See! yon poor Maniac! shivering in her cell, With hair dishevell'd, and with bosom bare; Once bless'd with innocence, each hour was gay,

Till in her breast convulsing passions strove,

And raised a dark and wild tornado there,

That in its progress burst the slight barrier,

Which in each fine wrought mind but feebly guards The seat of intellect: all, all was then

A splendid ruin, and an awful wreck.

Mark her, ye gay seducers! mark her well! For who like you should feel the awful change? And tell me if the transient joys you knew

When virtue sunk the victim of your ait,

Can e'er compensate your atrocious guilt

Or wipe away the bitter, bitter tears,

Which prostrate virtue sheds when reason dares

Resume, at interval, her desert throne,

And points the happy heights whence she has fallen?

Go, bid imagination's magic power

Roll back on time, and tell what once she was

Mark her,
· ye gay

For who like
you.

seducers; mark her well:

- should fed the aw full changes;

Form'd to delight the circle where she moved,
Esteem'd, admired by all; Olivia bloom'd

In the rich garden of parental love,

And promised fairest fruit: nursed in delight, Each charm or grace her opening mind display'd,

Was cultured with a fond assiduous care,

And, as her growing virtues burst on view,
She reign'd unrivall'd 'mid her blooming plains;

In sweet simplicity her youth roll'd on,
Till in a ruthless hour a plunderer came,
All skill'd to lure her unsuspecting soul,
And win her heart, ere he betray'd his own.
Great was the conflict in her struggling frame
'Twixt duty and affection-long she strove
To tear his favour'd image from her breast,
And oft resolved to fly her peaceful plains
To escape a passion now so deep infixt;
But what in absence had assumed resolve,
On his return, became resolve no more,
And virtue sunk beneath his baneful arts.
Thus fell Olivia! Ye proud in virtue,

Say not you could like Alpine snows have stood

Spotless and pure beneath such burning sun.
Wound not her bieeding mind, nor dare to boast
Till you have triumph'd in temptation's hour:
Her soul untainted, shudder'd at her fall;-

She on the sacred records solemn swore
Never again to see the human fiend
Who thus despoil'd her virtue and her peace;
She fled her native scenes, and long retired
'Mid solitude and shade, repentant, strove
To sooth her mind, and long lost calm restore.
Deep solitude and shade-reflection's darts
But swifter urged, and with impetuous force,
To frenzy's rage. With quick and hurried step,
With heaving bosom, but with stedfast eye,
She sought the flood, and instant plunging there
A dark oblivious stream had hoped to find.
Snatch'd from the watery death by pitying hands,
Stretch'd out to save in desperation's hour,
She woke to life—just felt its fever burn.
Affrighted reason fled-and all was void.

END OF PART 1.