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Spare farther the descriptive song~
Nature shudders at the sight.
Protract not, curious ears, the mournful tale, But o'er the hapless groupe, low drop Compassion's
BY MRS. CARTER.
Come, Melancholy! silent power,
To sober thought confin'd ;
Indulge my pensive mind.
No longer wildly hurried thro'
In folly's noisy stream:
Thy philosophic dream.
of mournful yews With solitary steps I muse,
By thy direction led :
Here, cold to pleasure's tempting forms, Consociate with my sister-worms,
And mingle with the dead.
Ye midnight horrors ! awful gloom I
My future peaceful bed :
In death's refreshing shade.
Ye pale inhabitants of night,
In solemn pomp ascend :
That varying life attend !
Ye faithless idols of our sense,
Ye empty names of joy!
Before the mental eye.
The dazzling colours, falsely bright,
With superficial state :
Thro' Reason's clearer optics view'd,
Appears the painted cheat.
Can wild Ambition's tyrant power,
The dread of death controul ?
That shake the parting soul?
Religion ! e'er the hand of Fate
My erring senses teach,
These awful relics preach.
Thy penetrating beams disperse
Derive their fatal spring :
The pale terrific king.
When sunk by guilt in sad despair,
And owns thy threatenings just :
Thy voice the shuddering suppliant chears, With Mercy calms her torturing fears,
And lifts her from the dust.
Sublim'd by thee, the soul aspires
In nobler views elate:
The universal debt.
In Death's soft slumber lull'd to rest,
That gently whisper Peace :
Of active life and bliss.