While shrouded manes palely ftare,

And beckoning wish to breathe their care:
Thus real woes from false he bears,

And feels the death, the hell he fears.

O Thou! whose Spirit warms my song, With energy divinely ftrong,

Erect his foul, confirm his breast,

And let him know the sweets of reft;
Till ev'ry human pain and care,
All that may be, and all that are,
But falfe imagin'd ills appear,
Beneath our hope, our grief, or fear.
And, if I right invoke thy aid,
By Thee be all my woes allay'd:
With fcorn inftruct me to defy
Impofing fear, and lawless joy ;-
To ftruggle thro' this scene of ftrife,
The pains of death, the pangs of life;
With conftant brow to meet my fate,
And meet ftill more, Euanthe's hate.
And when fome fwain her charms fhall claim,
Who feels not half my gen'rous flame;
Whofe cares her angel-voice beguiles,
On whom she bends her heav'nly fmiles;
For whom the weeps, for whom she glows,
On whom her treasur'd soul bestows;
When perfect mutual joy they share,
Ah! joy enhanc'd by my despair!
Mix beings in each flaming kiss,
And blefs'd, ftill rife to higher bliss:
Then, then, exert my utmost pow'r,
And teach me being to endure;
Left reafon from the helm should start,
And lawless fury rule my heart;
Left madness all my foul fubdue,
To afk her Maker, What doft thou?'

Yet

Yet couldst thou, in that dreadful hour,
On my rack'd foul all Lethe pour ;
Or fan me with the gelid breeze,
That chains in ice th' indignant feas;
Or wrap my heart in ten-fold steel;
I still am man, and ftill muft feel.

I'

N ancient days, when Arthur reign'd,

Sir Elmer had no peer!

And no young knight in all the land

The ladies lov'd fo dear.

His fifter Mey, the fairest maid

Of all the virgin train,

Won ev'ry heart at Arthur's court,
But all their love was vain.

In vain they lov'd, in vain they vow'd,
Her heart they could not move :
Yet at the evening hour of pray'r
Her mind was loft in love.

The abbefs faw, the abbefs knew,
And urg'd her to explain:
O name the gentle youth to me,
• And his confent I'll gain.'

Long

Long urg'd, long tir'd, fair Mey reply'd,

• His name how can I say?

An angel from the fields above

The live-long year fair Mey bemoan'd
Her hopeless pining love:

But when the balmy fpring return'd,
And fummer cloath'd the grove;

All round, by pleasant Humber fide,
The Saxon banners flew,

And to Sir Elmer's caftle-gates

The fpearmen came in view.

'Fair blush'd the morn when Mey look'd o'er

The caftle-wall fo fheen ;

And, lo! the warlike Saxon youth
Were fporting on the green.

For thee I'll quit my father's throne,
• With thee the wilds explore;

Or with thee fhare the British crown,
With thee the crofs adore."

Beneath the timorous virgin blufh,
With love's foft warmth fhe glows:
So, blushing thro' the dews of morn,
Appears the opening rofe.

'Twas now the hour of morning pray'r,
When men their fins bewail;
And Elmer heard King Arthur's horn
Shrill founding thro' the dale.

The pearly tears from Mey's bright eyes

Like April dew-drops fell,
When with a parting dear embrace

Her brother bade farewel.

The cross with sparkling diamonds bright,
That veil'd her fnowy breaft,

With pray'rs to Heav'n, her lily hands

Have fix'd on Elmer's veft.

Now, with five hundred bowmen true,
He's march'd across the plain,
Till with his gallant yeomandrie
He join❜d King Arthur's train.

Full forty thousand Saxon fpears
Came glitt'ring down the hill,

And with their shouts and clang of arms

The diftant vallies fill.