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The trees no more their wonted verdure boast,
But weep in dewy tears their beauty loft:
No diftant landscapes draw our curious eyes,
Wrapt in Night's robe the whole creation lies:
Yet ftill, even now, while darkness clothes the land,
We view the traces of th' Almighty hand;
Millions of ftars in heaven's wide vault appear,
And with new glories hang the boundless fphere:
The filver moon her western couch forfakes,
And o'er the skies her nightly circle makes;
Her folid globe beats back the funny rays,
And to the world her borrow'd light repays.

Whether those stars that twinkling luftre fend
Are funs, and rolling worlds thofe funs attend,
Man may conjecture, and new fchemes declare,
Yet all his fyftems but conjectures are;

But this we know, that heaven's eternal King,
Who bid this universe from nothing spring,
Can at his word bid num'rous worlds appear,
And rifing worlds th' all-pow'rful word fhall hear.
When to the western main the fun defcends,

To other lands a rifing day he lends:

The spreading dawn another shepherd fpies,
The wakeful flocks from their warm folds arife;
Refresh'd, the peafant feeks his early toil,

And bids the plough correct the fallow foil.
While we in Sleep's embraces wafte the night,

The climes oppos'd enjoy meridian light;

And when those lands the busy fun forfakes,
With us again the rofy morning wakes:
In lazy fleep the night rolls swift away,
And neither clime laments his abfent ray.

When the pure foul is from the body flown,
No more fhall Night's alternate reign be known;
The fun no more shall rolling light bestow,
But from th' Almighty streams of glory flow.
Oh! may some nobler thought my foul employ,
Than empty, tranfient, fublunary joy.

The stars shall drop, the fun shall lose his flame,
But thou, O God! for ever fhine the fame.

THE NUN.

AN ELEGY.

WITH each perfection dawning on her mind,
All beauty's treasure opening on her cheek,
Each flatt'ring hope fubdu'd, each wish refign'd,
Does gay Ophelia this lone mansion feek.

Say, gentle maid, what prompts thee to forfake
The paths, thy birth and fortune ftrew with flow'rs?
Through nature's kind endearing ties to break,

And wafte in cloifter'd walls thy penfive hours?

Let fober thought restrain thine erring zeal,

That guides thy footsteps to the vestal gate, Left thy foft heart (this friendship bids reveal) Like mine unblest, should mourn like mine too late.

Does fome angelic lonely-whisp'ring voice,
Some facred impulse, or some dream divine,
Approve the dictates of thy early choice ?----
Approach with confidence the awful shrine.

There, kneeling at yon' altar's marble base

(While streams of rapture from thine eye-lid steal, And smiling Heav'n illumes thy foul with grace), Pronounce the vow thou never can'ft repeal.

Yet if mifled by falfe entitled friends,

Who fay---"That Peace with all her comely train, "From starry regions to this clime defcends, "Smooths ev'ry frown, and foftens ev'ry pain:

"That veftals tread contentment's flow'ry lawn,
"Approv'd of innocence, by health carest:
"That rob'd in colours bright, by fancy drawn,
"Celestial Hope fits smiling at their breast;"

Suspect their fyren song and artful style,

Their pleafing founds fome treach'rous thought conFull oft does pride with fainted voice beguile, [ceal! And fordid int'rest wear the mask of zeal.

A tyrant abbefs here perchance may reign,

Who, fond of pow'r, affects the imperial nod,

Looks down disdainful on her female train,

And rules the cloister with an iron rod.

Reflection fickens at the life-long tie,

Back-glancing mem'ry acts her busy part, Its charms the world, unfolds to fancy's eye, And sheds allurement on the wishful heart.

Lo! Difcord enters at the facred porch,

Rage in her frown, and terror on her crest: Ev'n at the hallow'd lamps fhe lights her torch, And holds it flaming to each virgin breaft.

But fince the legends of monaftic bliss

By fraud are fabled, and by youth believ'd, Unbought experience learn from my distress, Oh! mark my lot, and be no more deceiv'd.

Three luftres fcarce with hafty wing were fled,
When I was torn from ev'ry weeping friend,
A thoughtless victim to the temple led,

And (blush ye parents!) by a father's hand.

Yet then what folemn scenes deceiv'd my choice! The pealing organ's animating found,

The choral virgin's captivating voice,

The blazing altar, and the priests around;
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The train of youths array'd in purest white,

Who scatter'd myrtles as I pass'd along; The thousand lamps that pour'd a flood of light, The kifs of peace from all the vestal throng;

The golden cenfer tofs'd with graceful hand,
Whose fragrant breath Arabian odour shed:
Of meek-ey'd novices the circling band,

With blooming chaplets wove around their head.

---My willing foul was caught in rapture's flame, While facred ardour glow'd in ev'ry vein: Methought applauding angels fung my name, And heaven's unfullied glories gilt the fane.

This temporary transport soon expir'd,

My drooping heart confefs'd a dreadful void: E'er fince, alas! abandon'd, uninfpir'd,

I tread this dome to mifery allied.

No wakening joy informs my fullen breast,
Through opening skies no radiant feraph fmiles,

No faint defcends to footh my foul to reft,
No dream of blifs the dreary night beguiles.

'Here haggard Difcontent ftill haunts my view; The fombre genius reigns in ev'ry place, Arrays each virtue in the darkeft hue,

Chills ev'ry prayer, and cancels ev'ry grace.

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