Speeds to dark Phlegethon's detested maze. Lo, startled at the heavenly ray, With speed unwonted Indolence upsprings, And sullen glides away : I. 3. Ten thousand forms, by pining Fancy view'd, When Phoebus rears his awful brow, The troops of fen-born mists retire. The joyous swain Eyes the gay villages again, And gold-illumined spire; While on the billowy ether borne Floats the loose lay's jovial measure; Shoot to the desart realms of their congenial Night. II. 1. When first on Childhood's eager gaze Life's varied landscape, stretch'd immense around, Thy voice incites to tempt th' untrodden maze. His wingy nerves to climb. II. 2. Pursue thy pleasurable way, Safe in the guidance of thy heavenly guard, While melting airs are heard, And soft-eyed cherub forms around thee play; Simplicity, in careless flowers array'd, Prattling amusive in his accent meek; And Modesty, half turning as afraid, The smile just dimpling on his glowing cheek! With Innocence and Peace, advance, and sing; And Mirth, in many a mazy ring, Frisks o'er the flowery land. II. 3. Frail man, how various is thy lot below! And Peace soft gliding down the sky The thunder's sound Rolls rattling on through heaven's profound, Ye days, that balmy influence shed, Ye cherub train, that brought him on his way, For now youth's eminence he gains: But what a weary length of lingering toil remains! III. 1. They shrink, they vanish into air. Now Slander taints with pestilence the gale; And mingling cries assail, The wail of Wo, and groan of grim Despair. Darts quick destruction in each baleful glance; Pale wither'd Care his giant-stature rears, To grasp its feeble prey. III. 2. Who now will guard bewilder'd youth Safe from the fierce assault of hostile rage? Such war can Virtue wage, Virtue, that bears the sacred shield of Truth? Alas! full oft on Guilt's victorious car The spoils of Virtue are in triumph borne ; While the fair captive, mark'd with many a scar In lone obscurity, oppress'd, forlorn, Resigns to tears her angel form. Ill-fated youth, then whither wilt thou fly? No friend, no shelter now is nigh. And onward rolls the storm. III. 3. But whence the sudden beam that shoots along? Lo, from amidst Affliction's night, Hope burts all radiant on the sight: Her words the troubled bosom sooth. "Why thus dismay'd? "Though foes invade, "Hope ne'er is wanting to their aid, "And with glad visions of to-morrow "Repair the weary soul's decay, "When Death's cold touch thrills to the freezing heart, "Dreams of heaven's opening glories I impart, "Till the freed spirit springs on high "In rapture too severe for weak Mortality." |