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Article MADNESS, AN ELEGY: ← Page 4 of 4
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Madness, An Elegy:
'Twas her ' s to flirt and only seem sincere , The vain coquet , with blandishments her own ; To laugh , to sing , to wheedle , and to jeer . Till reason lost its unsubstantial throne . No stings of mem'ry to her vacant mind Reflection ' s busy images convey ; Though sad her friends , herself to mirth inclin'd ,
Is ne'er unhappy , never less than gay ; Charming delusion ! when distraction reigns , And fancied pleasures false ideas range . — But when black choler stagnates in the veins , Behold , and mark the melancholy change : ¦ His words-how broken ! fault ' ring ! and how slow Fallen in darkneslike a splendid star . '
, Melanthus view , immers'd in sullen woe , The winds of ' reason in perpetual war ! The poor fanatic , buried in despair , Wildly anticipates each future pain ; Caught in the zealot ' s unrelenting snare , Religion stretches out her hand in vain . Dark as his browthe workings of his mind
, Present eternal torments to his sight ; A Deity no longer good and kind , His apprehensions endless fears excite . Ill-founded fears 1 but who shall comfort bring When mad enthusiasm o ' erspreads the breast ; When horrors hence imagination wing To rob devotion of her purest rest ?
'Tis , Melancholy , thine in varied shape The voice of peace and pleasure to suppress ; To bind the brow of reason with thy crape , And o ' er the soul thy leaden weight to press . And , Av ' rice , thine , fell canker of each joy ! Thou foe to honour , pure fruition ' s bane , How much the human mind thy pangs annoy , The wretch that ' s next in view can well explain ;
Unsocial mortal ! opulently poor ! Deaf to misfortune ' s penetrating plaint , He spurn'd poor shiv ' ring mis'ry from his door , And starv'd 'mid plenty , making gold his saint The miser , frantic in epitome , Still is himself , although in piteous plight , Collecting bits of rags and leaves of tea , As hoards in fancy ' s eye immensely bright .
The poet ' s dreams , his " frenzy-rolling eye , " The Muse might paint , but ceases to intrude On jealous rage , or fell misanthropy , The multi-varied shapes of reason crude ; Curtails her , flight as tender feelings rise , And conscious tears protract the-mournful talc While heaves my soul in sympathetic sighs , And kindred nature draws compassion ' s veil .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Madness, An Elegy:
'Twas her ' s to flirt and only seem sincere , The vain coquet , with blandishments her own ; To laugh , to sing , to wheedle , and to jeer . Till reason lost its unsubstantial throne . No stings of mem'ry to her vacant mind Reflection ' s busy images convey ; Though sad her friends , herself to mirth inclin'd ,
Is ne'er unhappy , never less than gay ; Charming delusion ! when distraction reigns , And fancied pleasures false ideas range . — But when black choler stagnates in the veins , Behold , and mark the melancholy change : ¦ His words-how broken ! fault ' ring ! and how slow Fallen in darkneslike a splendid star . '
, Melanthus view , immers'd in sullen woe , The winds of ' reason in perpetual war ! The poor fanatic , buried in despair , Wildly anticipates each future pain ; Caught in the zealot ' s unrelenting snare , Religion stretches out her hand in vain . Dark as his browthe workings of his mind
, Present eternal torments to his sight ; A Deity no longer good and kind , His apprehensions endless fears excite . Ill-founded fears 1 but who shall comfort bring When mad enthusiasm o ' erspreads the breast ; When horrors hence imagination wing To rob devotion of her purest rest ?
'Tis , Melancholy , thine in varied shape The voice of peace and pleasure to suppress ; To bind the brow of reason with thy crape , And o ' er the soul thy leaden weight to press . And , Av ' rice , thine , fell canker of each joy ! Thou foe to honour , pure fruition ' s bane , How much the human mind thy pangs annoy , The wretch that ' s next in view can well explain ;
Unsocial mortal ! opulently poor ! Deaf to misfortune ' s penetrating plaint , He spurn'd poor shiv ' ring mis'ry from his door , And starv'd 'mid plenty , making gold his saint The miser , frantic in epitome , Still is himself , although in piteous plight , Collecting bits of rags and leaves of tea , As hoards in fancy ' s eye immensely bright .
The poet ' s dreams , his " frenzy-rolling eye , " The Muse might paint , but ceases to intrude On jealous rage , or fell misanthropy , The multi-varied shapes of reason crude ; Curtails her , flight as tender feelings rise , And conscious tears protract the-mournful talc While heaves my soul in sympathetic sighs , And kindred nature draws compassion ' s veil .