"And see, the mizzling, misty midnight reigns, 245 "And no soft dews are on my eye-lids sent!-- "Here, stranger, lend thy hand; a.s.sist me, pray, "To walk a circuit of no large extent."--

63

On my prest shoulders leaning, round he went, And could have made the boldest spectre flee, 250 I led him up stairs, and I led him down, But not one moment's rest from pain got he.

64

Then with his dart, its cusp unpointed now, Thrice with main strength he smote the trembling floor; The roof resounded to the fearful blow, 255 And Cleon started, doom'd to sleep no more.

65

When thus spoke Death, impatient of controul, "Quick, move, and bring from yonder black bureau "The sacred book that may preserve my soul "From long d.a.m.nation, and eternal woe. 260

66

"And with it bring--for you may find them there, "The works of holy authors, dead and gone, "The sacred tome of moving Drelincourt, "Or what more solemn Sherlock mus'd upon:

67

"And read, my Cleon, what these sages say, 265 "And what the sacred Penman hath declar'd, "That when the wicked leaves his odious way, "His sins shall vanish, and his soul be spar'd."

68

But he, unmindful of the vain command, Reason'd with Death, nor were his reasonings few: 270 Quoth he--"My Lord, what frenzy moves your brain, "Pray, what, my Lord, can Sherlock be to you,

69

"Or all the sage divines that ever wrote, "Grave Drelincourt, or heaven's unerring page; "These point their arrows at your hostile breast, 275 "And raise new pains that time must ne'er a.s.suage.

70

"And why should thus thy woe disturb my rest?

"Much of Theology I once did read, "And there 'tis fixt, sure as my G.o.d is so, "That Death shall perish, tho' a G.o.d should bleed. 280

71

"The martyr, doom'd the pangs of fire to feel, "Lives but a moment in the sultry blast; "The victim groans, and dies beneath the steel, "But thy severer pains shall always last.

72

"O miscreant vile, thy age has made thee doat-- 285 "If peace, if sacred peace were found for you, "h.e.l.l would cry out, and all the d.a.m.n'd arise "And, more deserving, seek for pity too.

73

"Seek not for Paradise--'tis not for thee, "Where high in heaven its sweetest blossoms blow, 290 "Nor even where, gliding to the Persian main, "Thy waves, Euphrates, through the garden flow!

74

"b.l.o.o.d.y has been thy reign, O man of h.e.l.l, "Who sympathiz'd with no departing groan; "Cruel wast thou, and hardly dost deserve 295 "To have _Hic Jacet_ stampt upon thy stone.

75

"He that could build his mansion o'er the tombs, "Depending still on sickness and decay, "May dwell unmov'd amidst these drowsier glooms, "May laugh the dullest of these shades away. 300

76

"Remember how with unrelenting ire "You tore the infant from the unwilling breast-- "Aspasia fell, and Cleon must expire, "Doom'd by the impartial G.o.d to endless rest:

77

"In vain with stars he deck'd yon' spangled skies, 305 "And bade the mind to heaven's bright regions soar, "And brought so far to my admiring eyes "A glimpse of glories that shall blaze no more!

78

"Even now, to glut thy devilish wrath, I see "From eastern realms a wasteful army rise: 310 "Why else those lights that tremble in the north?

"Why else yon' comet blazing through the skies?

79

"Rejoice, O fiend; Britannia's tyrant sends "From German plains his myriads to our sh.o.r.e.

"The fierce Hibernian with the Briton join'd-- 315 "Bring them, ye winds!--but waft them back no more.

80

"To you, alas! the fates in wrath deny "The comforts to our parting moments due, "And leave you here to languish and to die, "Your crimes too many, and your tears too few. 320

81

"No cheering voice to thee shall cry, Repent!

"As once it echoed through the wilderness-- "No patron died for thee--d.a.m.n'd, d.a.m.n'd art thou "Like all the devils, nor one jot the less.

82

"A gloomy land, with sullen skies is thine, 325 "Where never rose or amaranthus grow, "No daffodils, nor comely columbine, "No hyacinths nor asphodels for you.

83

"The barren trees that flourish on the sh.o.r.e "With leaves or fruit were never seen to bend, 330 "O'er languid waves unblossom'd branches hang, "And every branch sustains some vagrant fiend.

84

"And now no more remains, but to prepare "To take possession of thy punishment; "That's thy inheritance, that thy domain, 335 "A land of bitter woe, and loud lament.

85

"And oh that He, who spread the universe, "Would cast one pitying glance on thee below!

"Millions of years in torments thou might'st fry, "But thy eternity!--who can conceive its woe!" 340