Part 22 (1/2)

Still grief recoils--How vainly have I strove Thy power, O Melancholy, to withstand!

Tired I submit; but yet, O yet remove Or ease the pressure of thy heavy hand.

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Yet for a while let the bewilder'd soul Find in society relief from woe; O yield a while to Friends.h.i.+p's soft control; Some respite, Friends.h.i.+p, wilt thou not bestow?

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Come, then, Philander! for thy lofty mind Looks down from far on all that charms the great; For thou canst bear, unshaken and resign'd, The brightest smiles, the blackest frowns of Fate:

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Come thou, whose love unlimited, sincere, Nor faction cools, nor injury destroys; Who lend'st to misery's moans a pitying ear, And feel'st with ecstasy another's joys:

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Who know'st man's frailty: with a favouring eye, And melting heart, behold'st a brother's fall; Who, unenslaved by custom's narrow tie, With manly freedom follow'st reason's call.

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And bring thy Delia, softly-smiling fair, Whose spotless soul no sordid thoughts deform: Her accents mild would still each throbbing care, And harmonize the thunder of the storm.

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Though blest with wisdom, and with wit refined, She courts not homage, nor desires to s.h.i.+ne: In her each sentiment sublime is join'd To female sweetness, and a form divine.

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Come, and dispel the deep surrounding shade: Let chasten'd mirth the social hours employ; O catch the swift-wing'd hour before 'tis fled, On swiftest pinion flies the hour of joy.

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Even while the careless disenc.u.mber'd soul Dissolving sinks to joy's oblivious dream, Even then to time's tremendous verge we roll With haste impetuous down life's surgy stream.

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Can Gaiety the vanish'd years restore, Or on the withering limbs fresh beauty shed, Or soothe the sad inevitable hour, Or cheer the dark, dark mansions of the dead?

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