For Aid immortal; less her Brother's Right.

She, with the Spheres harmonious, nightly leads
The mazy Dance, and hears their matchlefs Strain,
A Strain for Gods, deny'd to mortal Ear.

Tranfmit it heard, Thou Silver Queen of Heav'n!
What Title, or what Name, endears thee most?
CYNTHIA! CYLLENE! PHOEBE!-or doft hear
With higher Guft, fair PD of the Skies?
Is that the foft Enchantment calls thee down,
More pow'rful than of old Circean Charm?
Come; but from Heav'nly Banquets with thee bring
The Soul of Song, and whisper in mine Ear
The Theft divine; or in propitious Dreams
(For Dreams are Thine) transfufe it thro' the Breaft
Of thy firft Votary--But not thy last;
If, like thy Namefake; Thou art ever kind.

And kind Thou wilt be; Kind on fuch a Theme;
A Theme fo like thee, a quite Lunar Theme,
Soft, modeft, melancholy, female, fair!
A Theme that rofe all pale, and told my Soul,
'Twas Night; on her fond Hopes perpetual Night;
A Night which struck a Damp, a deadlier Damp,
Than that which fmote me from PHILANDER's Tomb.
NARCISSA follows, ere his Tomb is clos'd.

Woes cluster; rare are folitary Woes;

They love a Train, they tread each other's Heel;

Her

Her Death invades His mournful Right, and claims
The Grief that ftarted from my Lids for Him:
Seizes the faithlefs, alienated Tear,

Oh PHILANDER!

Or fhares it, ere it falls. So frequent Death,
Sorrow, He more than caufes, He confounds;
For human Sighs his rival Strokes contend,
And make Diftrefs, Diftraction.
• What was thy Fate? A double Fate to me;
Portent, and Pain! a Menace, and a Blow!
Like the black Raven hov'ring o'er my Peace,
Not lefs a Bird of Omen, than of Prey.
It call'd NARCISSA long before her Hour;
It call'd her tender Soul, by Break of Blifs,
From the first Bloffom, from the Buds of Joy;
Thofe few our noxious Fate unblafted leaves
In this inclement Clime of human Life.

Sweet Harmonist! and Beautiful as fweet!
And Young as beautiful! and Soft as young!
And Gay as foft! and Innocent as gay!
And Happy (if aught Happy bere) as good!
For Fortune fond had built her Nest on high.
Like Birds quite exquifite of Note and Plume,
Transfixt by Fate, (who loves a lofty Mark)
How from the Summit of the Grove fhe fell,
And left it unharmonious! All its Charm
Extinguifht in the Wonders of her Song!

Her Song ftill vibrates in my ravisht Ear,
Still melting there, and with voluptuous Pain
(O to forget her!) thrilling thro' my Heart!
Song, Beauty, Youth, Love, Virtue, Joy! this Group
Of bright Ideas, Flow'rs of Paradise,

As yet unforfeit! in one Blaze we bind,

Kneel, and prefent it to the Skies; as All

We guess of Heav'n: And thefe were all her own..
And fhe was mine; and I was-was moft bleft-
Gay Title of the deepest Misery!

As Bodies grow more pond'rous, robb'd of Life
Good loft weighs more in Grief, than gain'd, in Joy.
Like bloffom'd Trees o'erturn'd by vernal Storm,
Lovely in Death the beauteous Ruin lay;
And if in Death still lovely, lovelier There;
Far lovelier! Pity fwells the Tide of Love.
And will not the Severe excufe a Sigh?

Scorn the proud Man that is afham'd to weep;
Our Tears indulg'd indeed deserve our Shame.
Ye that e'er loft an Angel! pity me.

Soon as the Luftre languifht in her Eye,
Dawning a dimmer Day on human Sight;
And on her Cheek, the Residence of Spring,
Pale Omen fat; and scatter'd Fears around
On all that faw, (and who would ceafe to gaze,
That once had feen?) with Hafte, parental Hafte,

I flew, I fnatch'd her from the rigid North,
Her native Bed, on which bleak Boreas blew,
And bore her nearer to the Sun; the Sun'
(As if the Sun could envy) checkt his Beam,
Deny'd his wonted Succour, or with more
Regret beheld her drooping, than the Bells
Of Lilies! Faireft Lilies not fo fair.

Queen Lilies! and ye painted Populace! Who dwell in Fields, and lead ambrofial Lives; In Morn and Ev'ning Dew, your Beauties bathe, And drink the Sun; which gives your Cheeks to glow, And out-blush (mine excepted) ev'ry Fair;

You gladlier grew, ambitious of her Hand,

Which often cropt your Odours, Incense meet
To Thought fo pure; her flow'ry State of Mind
In Joy unfal'n. Ye lovely Fugitives!
Coæval Race with Man! for Man you fmile;
Why not smile at him too? You share indeed
His fudden Pafs; but not his conftant Pain.

So Man is made, nought minifters Delight,
But what his glowing Paffions can engage;
And glowing Paffions, bent on aught Below,
Muft, foon or late, with Anguifh turn the Scale;
And Anguish, after Rapture, how fevere!

Rapture? Bold Man! who tempts the Wrath divine,
By plucking Fruit deny'd to mortal Taste,
E 3

While

While Here, prefuming on the Rights of Heav'n,
For Transport doft Thou call on ev'ry Hour,
LORENZO? At thy Friend's Expence be wife;
Lean not on Earth; 'twill pierce thee to the Heart;
A broken Reed, at beft; but, oft, a Spear;
On its sharp Point Peace bleeds, and Hope expires.
Turn, hopeless Thought! turn from Her:-Thought
Refenting rallies, and wakes ev'ry Woe.
[repell'd,
Snatch'd ere thy Prime! and in thy bridal Hour!
And when kind Fortune, with thy Lover, fmil'd!
And when high-flavour'd thy frefh-op'ning Joys!
And when blind Man pronounc'd thy Blifs complete!
And on a Foreign Shore; where Strangers wept!.
Strangers to Thee; and, more furprising still,
Strangers to Kindness wept: Their Eyes let fall
Inhuman Tears; ftrange Tears; that trickled down
From marble Hearts! obdurate Tenderness!
A Tenderness that call'd them more fevere;
In spite of Nature's foft Perfuafion, steel'd;
While Nature melted, Superftition rav'd;
That mourn'd the Dead; and This deny'd a Grave.
Their Sighs incenft; Sighs foreign to the Will!
Their Will the Tyger fuck'd, outrag'd the Storm.
For Oh! the curft Ungodlinefs of Zeal!

While finful Flefb relented, Spirit nurst
In blind Infallibility's Embrace,

The