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Elate of Heart and confident of Such was the sad and gloomy hour
When anguish'd care of sullen brow
Fame, From vales where Avon sports, the Prepared the Poison's death-cold power.
Already to thy lips was rais'd the bowl, When filial Pity stood thee by,
'Tis hard on Bagshot Heath to try
What tho' around thy drowsy head
Curst road! whose execrable way Was darkly shadow'd out in Milton's lay,
When the sad fiends thro' Hell's sulphureous roads
Took the first survey of their new abodes;
Or when the fall'n Archangel fierce
What time the Bloodhound lured by
Thro' all Confusion's quagmires floundering went.
Nor cheering pipe, nor Bird's shrill note
Thou mightier Goddess, thou demand'st my lay,
Born when earth was seized with
Or as more sapient sages say,
Compell'd their beings to enshrine
With hideous rout were plunging
And hog and devil mingling grunt and yell
Seized on the ear with horrible obtrusion ;
Then if aright old legendaries tell,
Wert thou begot by Discord on Confusion!
Yet here her pensive ghost delights to stay;
Oft pouring on the winds the broken lay
And hark, I hear her 'twas the passing blast.
I love to sit upon her tomb's dark grass, Then Memory backward rolls Time's shadowy tide;
The tales of other days before me glide:
With eager thought I seize them as they pass;
For fair, tho' faint, the forms of Memory gleam,
Like Heaven's bright beauteous bow reflected in the stream. ? 1790.
But ah! not Music's self, nor fragrant bower
Can glad the trembling sense of wan disease.
Now that the frequent pangs my frame assail,
Now that my sleepless eyes are sunk and dim,
And seas of pain seem waving through each limb
Ah what can all Life's gilded scenes avail? I view the crowd, whom youth and health inspire,
Hear the loud laugh, and catch the sportive lay,
Then sigh and think-I too could laugh and play
And gaily sport it on the Muse's lyre, Ere Tyrant Pain had chased away delight, Ere the wild pulse throbb'd anguish thro' the night!