And dauntless view, or seem to view, (As faintly flash the lightnings blue) Thin shiv'ring Ghosts from yawning charnels throng, And glance with silent sweep the shaggy vaults along. But such terrific charms as these, The conscious dignity of Song; His heart would melt with friendly woe) He too perchance, when these poor limbs are laid, Will heave one tuneful sigh, and sooth my hov'ring shade. ODE XXXIII. MELPOMENE. QUEEN of the human heart! at whose command Do thou his footsteps guide To nature's aweful courts, where nurst of yore, Young Shakspere, Fancy's child, was taught his various lore. So may his favour'd eye explore the source, The movements of the soul, Adjust its passions, harmonize its tone, To feel for others' woe, or nobly bear its own. Deep in the covert of a shadowy grove, Mid broken rocks where dashing currents play; Dear to the pensive pleasures, dear to love, And Damon's Muse, that breathes her melting lay, This ardent prayer was made. When lo! the secret shade, As conscious of some heavenly presence, shookStrength, firmness, reason, all-my astonish'd soul forsook. Ah! whither Goddess! whither am I borne ? Darkness inwraps me round, While from the vast profound Emerging spectres dreadful shapes assume, Ha! what is he whose fierce indignant eye, His words their passage choak: His eager steps, nor time nor truce allow, And dreadful dangers wait the menace of his brow. Protect me, Goddess! whence that fearful shriek His icy fingers on some guilty cheek, And all the powers of manhood shrunk dismay'd: Ah see! besmear'd with gore, Revenge stands threatening o'er A pale delinquent, whose retorted eyes In vain for pity call-the wretched victim dies. Not long the space-abandon'd to Despair, The pangs of whips and wheels; And sees, or fancies, all the fiends below, Before my wondering sense new phantoms dance, And stamp their horrid shapes upon my brainA wretch with jealous brow, and eyes askance, Feeds all in secret on his bosom pain. Fond love, fierce hate, assail; Alternate they prevail : While conscious pride and shame with rage conspire, And urge the latent spark to flames of torturing fire. The storm proceeds-his changeful visage trace: A growing phrenzy grins upon his face, And in his frightful stare Distraction speaks : Proclaims all reason fled; And not a tear bedews those vacant eyes But songs and shouts succeed, and laughter-mingled sighs. Yet, yet again !—a Murderer's hand appears The dreary miscreant shrouds His felon step-as 'twere to darkness given And hark! ah Mercy! whence that hollow sound! Lies shroudless, unentomb'd, he points the way "Was it for this, he cries, with kindly shower For this array'd him in the robe of power, To bare the murdering blade |