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Mute, mournful, solemn. On the stranger's face
Observant, anxious, hung his fix'd regard :
Watchful his ear, each murmur, every breath,
Attentive seiz'd; now eager to begin
Consoling speech; now doubtful to invade 315
The sacred silence due fo grief supreme.
Then thus at last: O from devouring feasy
By miracle escap'd! if, with thy life,
Thy sense return’d, can yet discern the Hand,
All-wonderful, that through yon raging sea, 320
Yon whirling west of tempeft, led thee fafe;
That Hand divine with grateful awe confess,
With prostrate thanks adore. When thou, alas !
Wait number'd with the dead, and clos’d within
Th' unfathom’d gulph ;, when human hope was fled,
And human help in vain-th' Almighty Voice,
Then bade destruction spare, and bade the deep
Yield up its prey: that, by his


That mercy, thy fair life's remaining race,
A monument of wonder as of love,
May justify; to all the fons of men,
Thy brethren, ever present in their need.
Such praise delights him most-

He hears me not.
Some secret anguish, some transcendent woe, 335
Sits heavy on his heart, and from his eyes,
Through the clos'd lids, now rolls in bitter stream!

Yet, speak thy soul, afflicted as thou art ! For know, by mournful privilege 'tis mine, Myself most wretched and in forrow's ways





Severely train’d, to Mare in every pang
The wretched feel; to soothe the fad of heart;
To number tear for tear, and groan for groan,
With every son and daughter of distress.
Speak then, and give thy labouring bosom vent: 345
My pity is, my friendship shall be, thine;
To calm thy pain, and guide thy virtue back,
Through reason's paths, to happiness and heaven.

The hermit thus: and, after some sad pause
Of musing wonder, thus the Man unknown.

350 What have I heard ? - On this untravel'd shore, Nature's last limit, hem'd with oceans round Howling and harbourless, beyond all faith A comforter to find! whose language wears The garb of civil life; a friend, whofe breast 355 The gracious meltings of sweet pity move! Amazement all! my grief to silence charm'd Is lost in wonder-But, thou good unknown, If woes, for ever wedded to despair, That with no cure, are thine, behold in me

360 A meet companion; one whoin earth and heaven Combine to curfe ; whom never future morn Shall light to joy, nor evening with repose Descending shade, son of this wild world! From social converse though for ever barr’d, 365 Though chill'd with endless winter from the pole, Yet warm’d by goodness, form’d to tender fenfe Of human woes, beyond what milder climes, By fairer suns attemper’d, courtly boast; O say, did e'er thy breast, in youthful life, 37





Touch'd by a beam from Beauty all-divine,
Did e'er thy bosom her sweet influence own,
In pleasing tumult pour’d through every vein,
And panting at the heart, wlien first our eye
Receives impreffion! Then, as pasion grew, 375
Did heaven consenting to thy with indulge
That bliss no wealth can bribe, no power bestow,
That bliss of angels, love by love repaid ?
Heart streaming full to heart in mutual flow
Of faith and friendihip, tenderness and truth-
If these thy fate distinguish d, thou wilt then,
My joys conceiving, image my despair,
How total! how extreme! For this, all this,

my fair fortune, wreck'd on yonder flood,
Lies lost and bury'd there-O, awful heaven!
Who to the wind and to the whelming wave
Her blameless head devoted, thou alone
Canst tell what I have loft-0, ill-starr'd maid !
0, most undone Amyntor! Sighs and tears,
And heart-heav'd groans, at this, his voice suppress’d:
The rest was agony and dumb despair.

391 Now o'er their heads damp night her stormy gloom Spread, cre the glimmering twilight was expir’d, With huge and heavy horror closing round In doubling clouds on clouds. The mournful scene, 195 The moving tale, Aurelius deeply felt : And thus reply'd, as one in Nature skill'd, With soft assenting forrow in his look, And words to soothe, not combat hopeless love. 4


Amyntor, by that heaven who sees thy tears ! 400 By faith and friendship's sympathy divine ! Could I the forrows heal I more than share, This bofom, trust me, lould from thine transfer Its sharpest grief. Such grief, alas! how just? How long in silent anguish to descend,

405 When reason and when fondness o'er the tomb Are fellow-mourners ? He, who can resign, Has never lov'd: and wert thou to the sense, The sacred feeling of a loss like thine, Cold and insensible, thy breast were then 410 No mansion for humanity, or thought Of noble aim. Their dwelling is with love, And tender pity; whose kind tear adorns The clouded cheek, and fanctifies the soul They foften, not subdue. We both will mix, 415 For her thy virtue lov’d, thy truth laments, Our social sighs : and still, as morn unveils The brightening hill, or evening's mifty shade Its brow obscures, her gracefulness of form, Her mind all-lovely, each enobling each, 420 Shall be our frequent theme. Then shalt thou hear From me, in sad return, a tale of woes, So terrible-Amyntor, thy pain'd heart, Amid its own, will thudder at the ills That mine has bled with-But behold! the dark 425 And drowsy hour steals fast upon our talk. Here break we off : and thou, sad mourner, try Thy weary limbs, thy wounded mind, to balm With timely neep. Each gracious wing from heaven




Of those that minister to erring man,
Near-hovering, hush thy passions into calm ;
Serene thy slumbers with presented scenes
Of brightest vifion; whisper to thy heart
That holy peace which goodness ever shares:
And to us both be friendly as we need.


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OW midnight rose, and o'er the general scene,

Air, ocean, earth, drew broad her blackest veil, Vapour and cloud. Around th’ unsleeping ille, Yet howl'd the whirlwind, yet the billow groan'd; And, in mix'd horror, to Amyntor's ear

5 Borne through the gloom, his fhrieking sense appallid. Shook by each blast, and swept by every wave, Again pale memory labours in the storm : Again from her is torn, whom more than life | His fondness lov’d. And now, another shower

Of sorrow, o'er the dear unhappy maid,
Effusive stream'd; till late, through every power
The foul subdued funk sad to slow repose :
And all her darkening scenes, by dim degrees,
Were quench'd in total night. A pause from pain 15
Not long to last : for Fancy, oft awake
While Reason Neeps, from her illusive cell:

up wild shapes of visionary fear, Of vifionary bliss, the hour of rest To mock with mimic thews. And lo! the deeps 20

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