In thy serener shades our ghosts delight, In vaults and gloomy caves they stray, Though solid bodies dare exclude the light, Nor will the brightest ray admit; No substance can thy force repel, Thou reign'st in depths below, dost in the centre dwell. The sparkling gems, and ore in mines below, Tho' form'd within the womb of night, Bright as their sire they shine, with native rays of light. When thou dost raise thy venerable head, And art in genuine night array'd, Thy negro beauties then delight; Beauties like polish'd jet, with their own darkness bright. Thou dost thy smiles impartially bestow, All things appear the same by thee, Thou, Darkness, art the lover's kind retreat, Thou dost inspire them with thy shade, Giy'st vigour to the youth, and warm'st the yielding maid. Calm as the bless'd above the Anchorites dwell Their minds with heavenly joys are fill'd; In caves of night, the oracles of old Did all their mysteries unfold: Darkness did first Religion grace, Gave terrors to the God, and reverence to the place, When the Almighty did on Horeb stand, Thy shades enclos'd the hallow'd land; When he appear'd arm'd in his power and might, When terrible with majesty, In tempests he gave laws, and clad himself in thee. Ere the foundation of the earth was laid, Or brighter firmament was made; Ere matter, time, or place was known, Thou, Monarch Darkness, sway'dst these spacious realms alone. But now the moon (though gay with borrow'd light) Invades thy scanty lot of Night: By rebel subjects thou'rt betray'd, The anarchy of stars depose their monarch, Shade. Yet fading Light its empire must resign, And Nature's power submit to thine : And universal ruin shall erect thy throne, And Fate confirm thy kingdom evermore thy own. STANZAS ON WOMAN. WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly, The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, EDWIN AND ANGELINA. A BALLAD. "TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, "And guide my lonely way, "To where yon taper cheers the vale, "With hospitable ray. "For here forlorn and lost I tread, "With fainting steps and slow; "Where wilds immeasurably spread, "Seem length'ning as I go." "Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, "To tempt the dangerous gloom; "For yonder faithless phantom flies "To lure thee to thy doom. "Here to the houseless child of want "My door is open still; "And though my portion is but scant, "I give it with good will. "Then turn to-night, and freely share "Whate'er my cell bestows; "My rushy couch and frugal fare, "My blessing and repose. "No flocks that range the valley free, "To slaughter I condemn; "Taught by that power that pities me, "I learn to pity them: "But from the mountain's grassy side "A guiltless feast I bring; "A scrip with herbs and fruits supply'd, "And water from the spring. "Then pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego; "All earth-born cares are wrong; "Man wants but little here below, "Nor wants that little long." Soft as the dew from Heav'n descends, The modest stranger lowly bends, Far in a wilderness obscure No stores beneath its humble thatch Requir'd a master's care; The wicket, op'ning with a latch, L |