[ S; ] 



But fay, what flrain fhall wifdom find, • 



What fpell, to free th' eclipfing mind ? 



That Hebrew minflrel's hand of yore, 



The troubled fpirit could reftore, 



The virtuous numbers flow'd like precious balm, 



And o'er the wounded foul diffus'd an holy calm j 



They flow no more. 



XVI. 



O moon ! thy radiant ftreams I drink, 



Awake to feel, and calm to think, 



I fee thine orb of filver wane, 



I fee thee fill thy crefcent horn, 



I fee thee chafe the ftarry train, 



Slowly melting into morn. 



Enjoy thy charms, and hail thy ray, 



Free from the terrors of thy fway : 

 But fliould'ft thou, in thy future path. 

 Behold me mark'd by heav'nly wrath, 



A fpedacle, to fhow mankind 



The melancholy wafte of ruin'd mind ; 



Should madnefs come, with horrid phantafms fraught, 



To taint the fource of thought ; 



And blear illufions fenfe invade, 



And notions vain the mind o'erfhade, 



Soon may thy filken luftre wave 



O'er my new-made grave. 



