LYRIC POEMS. And must this building then, this costly frame, Stand here for strangers ? must some unknown name Possess these rooms, the labours ofmy friend ?j Why were these walls rais'd for this hapless end? Why these apartments all adorn'd so gay ? Why his rich fancy lavish'd thus away ! Muse, view the paintings, how the hov'ringlight Plays ó er the colours in a wanton flight, And mingled shades wrought in by soft degrees, Give a sweet foil to all the charming piece; But night, eternal night, hangs black around The dismal chambers of the hollow ground, And solid shades unmingled round his bed Stand hideous: Earthly fogs embrace his head, And noisome vapours glide along his face Rising perpetual. Muse, forsake the place, Flee the raw damps of the unwholesome clay, Look to his airy spacious hall, and say, " How bas he chang'd it fora lonesome cave, " Confined and crowded in a narrow grave." Tb' unhappy home looks desolate and mourns, And ev'ry door groans doleful as it turns ; The pillars languish ; and each lofty wall Stately in grief, Laments the master's fall, In drops of briny dew; the fabric bears His faint resemblance, and renews my tears. Solid and square it rises from below: A noble air without a gaudy show Reigns thro' the model, and adorns the whole, Manly and plain. Such was the builder's soul. O how I love to view the stately frame, that dear memorial of the best -lov'd name! Then could I wish for some prodigious cave Vast as his seat, and silent as his grave ; Where the tall shades stretch to the hideous roof, Forbid the day, and guard the sun -beams off; Thither, my willing feet, should ye be drawn At the grey twilight, and the early dawn. There sweetly sad should my soft minutes roll, Numb'ring the sorrows of my drooping soul. But these are airy thoughts : substantial grief Grows by these objects that should yield relief; Fond of my woes 1 heave my eyes around, My grief from ev'ry prospect courts a wound ; Views the green gardens,views the smiling skies, Still my heart sinks, and still my cares arise ; My wand'ring feet round the fair mansion rove, And there to soothe my sorrows I indulge my love. Oft have I laid the awful Calvin by, And the sweet Cowley, with impatient eye Te see those walls, pay the sad visit there, And drop the tribute of an hourly tear: Still I behold some melancholy scene, With many a pensive thought, and many a sigh between. Two days ago we took the evening air, 1, and my grief, and my Urania there ; Say, my Urania, how the western sun Broke from black clouds, and in full glory shone, 301
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