O fly, thou first-born child of Hell, To some far distant, dreary, doleful plain, And black Remorse, and sullen Sorrows dwell: And writhing dreadful on their iron-bed Thither embost with vary'd woe, Hark, hark he raves !—Thy tablet shew, Oh mercy, Heaven!-Upstaring stands His grisly hair; his nerveless hands Shake; o'er his face the curdled blood, "Oh bring the poison'd bowl, let loose life's crimson "flood!" Sad, sacred wretch!-Thou power divine, Whose god-like word from chaos dark and dread Bad Discord fly, and Light sweet-smiling spread Her orient wing, controul this breast of mine! And still when gloomy thoughts prevail, Oh short, and partial be their sway! And beam'd from thee, let pleasure's gladsome ray The mournful progeny of grief dispel. So shall the chequer'd scenes of life delight, As morning brighter peers preceded still by night. ODE IX. ΤΟ DESPAIR. BY MRS. CHARLOTTE SMITH. THOU spectre, of terrific mien, Ah! hide for ever from my sight The faithless flatterer Hope-whose pencil, gay, Then bids the fairy tablet fade away; While in dire contrast, to mine eyes Thy phantoms, yet more hideous, rise, And Memory draws, from Pleasure's wither'd flow'r, Corrosives for the heart-of fatal power! I bid the traitor Love, Adieu ! Who to this fond, believing bosom came, With Pity's soothing voice,-in Friendship's name ; Nor Reason teach me to endure. And to that breast mild Patience pleads in vain, Yet not to me, tremendous power! That dreary, tranquil gloom I court To thee I give this tortured breast, Where hope arises but to foster pain ; Ah! lull its agonies to rest! Ah! let me never be deceived again! Behold, in long array, the woes Of the dread future, calm and undismay'd Till I may claim the hope--that shall not fade l ODE X. ON ENVY. BY R. SHEPHERD, D. D. BENEATH yon chain of barren rocks, O haste, O fly th' accursed cell, Ev'n now from her infernal dark abyss, |