Yon pious Maids each earthly wish disown,
Kiss the dread cross, and crowd upon the throne:
O let thy soul the sacred charge attend,
Their warmths inspirit, and their virtues mend;
Teach every breast from every hymn to steal
The Seraph's meekness, and the Seraph's zeal
al;270
To rise to rapture, to dissolve away
In dreams of heaven, and lead thyself the way,
Till all the glories of the blest abode
Blaze on the scene, and every thought is God.
While thus thy exemplary cares prevail,
And make each vestal spotless as her veil,
Th' Eternal Spirit o'er thy cell shall move
In the soft image of the mystic dove;
The long-lost gleams of heavenly comfort bring,
Peace in his smile, and healing on his wing; 280
At once remove affliction from thy breast,
Melt o'er thy soul, and hush her pangs to rest.
*O that my soul, from love's curst bondage free,
Could catch the transports that I urge to thee!
O that some Angel's more than magic art
Would kindly tear the hermit from his heart!
Extinguish every guilty sense, and leave
No pulse to riot, and no sigh to heave.
Vain fruitless wish! still, still, the vigorous flame
Bursts, like an earthquake, thro' my shatter'd frame;
Spite of the joys that Truth and Virtue prove,
I feel but thee, and breathe not but to love;
Repent in vain, scarce wish to be forgiven;
Thy form my idol, and thy charms my heaven.
Yet, yet, my Fair! thy nobler efforts try, Lift me from earth, and give me to the sky; Let my lost soul thy brighter virtues feel, Warm'd with thy hopes, and wing'd with all thy zeal. And when, low-bending at the hallow'd shrine, Thy contrite heart shall Abelard resign; When pitying heaven, impatient to forgive, Unbars the gates of light, and bids thee live ; Seize on th' auspicious moment ere it flee, And ask the same immortal boon for me.
Then when these black, terrific scenes are o'er,
And rebel nature chills the soul no more;
When on thy cheek th' expiring roses fade,
And thy last lustres darken in the shade;
When arm'd with quick varieties of pain,
Or creeping dully slow from vein to vein,
Pale Death shall set my kindred spirit free,
And these dead orbs forget to doat on thee;
Some pious friend, whose wild affections glow
Like ours, in sad similitude of woe,
Shall drop one tender, sympathizing tear,
Prepare the garland, and adorn the bier
Our lifeless reliques in one tomb enshrine,
And teach thy genial dust to mix with mine.
Mean while, divinely purg'd from
Our active souls shall climb th' etherial plain, 320
To each bright Cherub's purity aspire,
Catch all his zeal, and pant with all his fire;
There, where no face the glooms of anguish wears,
No uncle murders, and no passion tears,
Enjoy with heaven eternity of rest,
For ever blessing, and for ever blest.
AFRICAN PRINCE,
NOW IN ENGLAND,
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR MDCCXLIX.
BY WILLIAM DODD, L. L. D.
PRINCES, my Fair, unfortunately great,
Born to the pompous vassalage of state,
Whene'er the Public calls, are doom'd to fly
Domestic bliss, and break the private tie,
Fame pays with empty breath the toils they bear,
And love's soft joys are chang'd for glorious care;
Yet conscious Virtue, in the silent hour,
Rewards the hero with a noble dower.
For this alone I dar'd the roaring sea,
Yet more, for this I dar'd to part with Thee. But while my bosom feels the nobler flame, Still unreprov'd, it owns thy gentler claim. Though virtue's awful form my soul approves, 'Tis thine, thine only, Zara, that it loves.
A private lot had made the claim but one,
The Prince alone must love for virtue shun.
Ah! why, distinguish'd from the happier crowd,
To me the bliss of millions disallow'd?
Why was I singled for imperial sway,
Since love and duty point a different way?20
Fix'd the dread voyage, and the day decreed,
When, duty's victim, love was doom'd to bleed,
Too well my memʼry can these scenes renew,
We met to sigh, to weep our last adieu.
That conscious palm, beneath whose towering shade
So oft our vows of mutual love were made;
Where hope so oft anticipated joy,
And plann'd of future years the best employ;
That palm was witness to the tears we shed,
When that fond hope, and all those joys were fled.36
Thy trembling lips, with trembling lips, I prest,
And held thee panting to my panting breast.
Our sorrow, grown too mighty to sustain,
Now snatch'd us, fainting, from the sense of pain.
Together sinking in the trance divine,
I caught thy fleeting soul, and gave thee mine!
O! blest oblivion of tormenting care!
O! why recall'd to life and to despair?
The dreadful summons came, to part-and why?
Why not the kinder summons but to die
To die together were to part no more,
To land in safety on some peaceful shore,
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