As when fome ftately veffel, bound
To blefs'd Arabia's distant ground,
Borne from her courfes, haply lights
Where Barca's flow'ry clime invites,
Conceal'd around whofe treach'rous land,
Lurks the dire rock, and dang'rous fand
The pilot warns with fail and oar,
To fhun the much fufpected fhore,
In vain; the tide, too fubtly strong,
Still bears the wrestling bark along,
Till, found'ring, fhe refigns to fate,
And finks, o'erwhelm'd, with all her freight.
So, baffling ev bar to fin,
And Heav'n's own pilot, plac'd within,
Along the devious, fmooth descent,
With pow'rs increasing as they went,
The dames, accustom'd to fubdue,
As with a rapid current drew,
And o'er the fatal bounds convey'd
The loft, the long reluctant maid.
Here stop, ye fair ones, and beware,
Nor fend your fond affections there;
Yet, yet your darling, now deplor'd,
May turn, to you and Heav'n reftor'd ;
Till then, with weeping Honour wait,
The fervant of her better fate,
With Honour, left upon the shore,
Her friend and handmaid now no more;
Nor, with the guilty world, upbraid
The fortunes of a wretch betray'd,
But o'er her failing caft the veil,
Rememb'ring, you yourselves are frail.
And now, from all-enquiring light,
Fast fled the confcious fhades of night;
The damfel, from a short repose,
Confounded at her plight, arose.
As when, with flumb'rous weight opprefs'd,
Some wealthy miser finks to rest,
Where felons eye the glitt'ring prey,
And steal his hoard of joys away ;
He, borne where golden Indus ftreams,
Of pearl, and quarry'd di'mond dreams,
Like Midas, turns the glebe to oar,
And stands all wrapt amidst his store,
But wakens, naked, and despoil'd
Of that, for which his years had toil'd.
So far'd the nymph, her treasure flown,
And turn'd, like Niobe, to ftone,
Within, without, obfcure, and void,
She felt all ravag'd, all destroy'd.
And, O thou curs'd, infidious coast!
Are these the bleffings thou can'ft boast ?
Thefe, Virtue! these the joys they find,
Who leave thy heav'n-topt hills behind?
Shade me, ye pines, ye caverns, hide,
Ye mountains, cover me, fhe cry'd!
Her trumpet Slander rais'd on high,
And told the tidings to the sky;
Contempt discharg'd a living dart,
A fide-long viper to her heart;
Reproach breath'd poifons o'er her face,
And foil'd, and blafted ev'ry grace;
Officious Shame, her handmaid new,
Still turn'd the mirror to her view,
While thofe, in crimes the deepest dy'd,
Approach'd, to whiten at her fide,
And every lewd, insulting dame,
Upon her folly rose to fame.
What should she do? Attempt, once more,
To gain the late-deserted shore;
So trufting, back the mourner flew,
As fast the train of fiends purfue.
Again the farther fhore's attain'd,
Again the land of virtue gain'd;
But Echo gathers in the wind,
And fhows her inftant foes behind.
Amaz'd, with head-long speed fhe tends,
Where, late, fhe left an host of friends;
Alas! those shrinking friends decline,
Nor longer own that form divine,
With fear they mark the following cry,
And from the lonely trembler fly,
Or backward drive her on the coast,
Where peace was wreck'd, and honour loft.
From earth, thus, hoping aid in vain,
To Heav'n, not daring to complain,
No truce by hostile Clamour giv'n,
And from the face of Friendfhip driv'n,
The nymph funk proftrate on the ground,
With all her weight of woes around.
Enthron'd within a circling fky, Upon a mount o'er mountains high, All radiant fate, as in a shrine, Virtue, firft effluence divine;
Far, far above the scenes of woe,
That fhut this cloud wrapt world below;
Superior goddess, effence bright,
Beauty of uncreated light,
Whom should mortality furvey,
As doom'd upon a certain day,
The breath of Frailty muft expire,
The world diffolve in living fire,
The gems of Heav'n, and folar flame,
Be quench'd by her eternal beam,
And Nature, quick'ning in her eye,
To rife a new-born Phoenix, die.
Hence, unreveal'd to mortal view,
A veil around her form the threw,
Which three fad fifters of the fhade,
Pain, Care, and Melancholy made.
Thro' this, her all-enquiring eye,
Attentive from her ftation high,
Beheld, abandon'd to despair,
The ruins of her fav'rite fair;
And, with a voice whofe awful found
Appal'd the guilty world around,
Bid the tumultuous winds be still;
To numbers bow'd each lift'ning hill,
Uncurl'd the furging of the main,
And smooth'd the thorny bed of pain,
The golden harp of Heav'n fhe ftrung,
And thus the tuneful goddess fung.
Lovely penitent, arise,
Come, and claim thy kindred fkies,
Come, thy fifter angels fay
Thou haft wept thy stains away.
Let experience now decide
"Twixt the good and evil, try'd,
In the fmooth, enchanted ground,
Say, unfold the treasures found.
Structures, rais'd by morning dreams,
Sands, that trip the flitting streams,
Down, that anchors on the air,
Clouds, that paint their changes there.
Seas, that smoothly dimpling lie,
While the ftorm impends on high,
Showing, in an obvious glafs,
Joys, that in poffeffion pafs;
Tranfient, fickle, light, and gay,
Flatt'ring, only to betray;
What, alas, can life contain!
Life! like all its circles-vain.
Will the ftork, intending reft,
On the billow build her neft ?
Will the bee demand his ftore
From the bleak, and bladeless shore?
Man, alone, intent to ftray,
Ever turns from Wifdom's way,
Lays up wealth in foreign land,
Sows the fea, and plows the fand.
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