CELADON
to
MIRA
.
TO
thee
,
O
Mira
,
I
these
Lines
commend
,
These
from
thy
gentle
and
immortal
Friend
,
Tho'
not
to
thee
my
airy
Form
appears
,
Yet
I've
been
oft
a
Witness
to
thy
Tears
,
(
At
Night
when
,
lonely
by
the
Taper's
Flame
,
In
a
still
Whisper
thou
hast
breath'd
my
Name
)
And
in
thy
Eyes
beheld
the
rising
Woe
;
(
Ah
simple
Sorrows
when
for
me
they
flow
!
)
Think
not
,
O
Mira
,
not
in
me
to
find
A
Friend
like
Vido
,
or
like
Rosalind
,
Or
like
Courtine
to
cheat
thy
dazzl'a
Eye
,
And
sooth
thy
Weakness
with
a
well-bred
Lye
:
These
are
(
as
thou
wilt
by
the
Sequel
find
)
Below
a
Spirit
of
the
blissful
kind
:
And
was
thy
Form
,
as
wanton
Helen
gay
,
Or
did
thy
Eyes
outshine
the
Lamp
of
Day
,
These
please
not
me
—
Bright
Eyes
in
vain
may
roll
,
I
read
no
Charms
but
in
the
purer
Soul
.
By
thy
chang'd
Features
I
too
often
find
The
wild
Ideas
of
thy
restless
Mind
;
All
serious
now
abstracted
from
the
Crew
,
No
prudent
Stoick
more
serene
than
you
,
Till
in
your
Brain
some
gaudy
Pictures
spring
,
All
gay
and
careless
,
then
you
laugh
and
sing
:
These
vanish
like
a
painted
Cloud
—
and
now
Pale
Discontent
o'er-shades
thy
mournful
Brow
:
You
form
dark
Visions
and
at
Phantoms
start
,
These
Woes
proceed
from
an
ill-govern'd
Heart
,
From
a
too
thoughtless
or
too
roving
Mind
;
For
these
are
Strangers
to
a
Soul
resign'd
.
Canst
thou
presume
thy
little
Bark
may
steer
From
Griefs
black
Eddy
and
the
Gulphs
of
Fear
?
Or
canst
thou
hope
to
scape
the
gloomy
Land
,
Where
Disappointments
crowd
the
rocky
Strand
?
Not
so
—
nor
let
thy
Vanity
pretend
To
hope
for
more
than
ever
blest
thy
Friend
;
In
Life
I
shone
conspicuous
o'er
the
rest
,
While
the
pure
Beams
malignant
Eyes
opprest
;
Sound
Judgment
,
Learning
,
Wisdom
,
too
was
mine
,
And
piercing
Wit
superior
far
to
thine
;
Yet
gaping
Rage
stood
ready
to
devour
,
And
Dulness
rain'd
on
me
a
leaden
Shower
:
Now
stung
with
Scoffs
,
and
now
with
Flatt'ry
tir'd
,
Defam'd
,
applauded
,
envy'd
,
and
admir'd
:
This
Fate
was
mine
—
to
hope
canst
thou
presume
A
milder
Passage
and
more
easy
Doom
?
Deluded
Girl
!
let
not
a
Thought
so
vain
Elate
thy
Spirits
,
nor
ascend
thy
Brain
.
But
hear
,
O
Mira
,
nor
too
late
be
wise
,
From
painted
Trifles
turn
thy
longing
Eyes
;
Ask
not
for
what
will
make
thy
Pray'r
offend
,
But
ask
Content
,
a
Parent
and
a
Friend
;
Ask
Bread
and
Peace
,
'tis
all
that
Nature
craves
,
This
Kings
acknowledge
,
when
they
find
their
Graves
.
Say
,
why
thy
Features
lose
their
healthful
Dye
,
And
the
Tears
tremble
in
the
languid
Eye
?
The
mighty
Conflict
I
with
pity
see
,
When
thy
rude
Passions
struggle
to
be
free
,
And
rack
thy
Breast
—
the
incoherent
Stage
,
Where
grave
and
comick
jar
like
Youth
and
Age
;
Now
Death
appears
all
horrible
and
grim
:
But
the
next
Moment
none
so
fair
as
him
,
And
now
you
sigh
—
Ah
,
let
me
calmly
die
:
Then
shrinking
,
trembling
from
the
Grave
you
fly
,
Such
jarring
Tumults
in
your
Bosom
roll
;
(
Ah
,
what
so
various
as
a
Woman's
Soul
!
)
But
thou
,
beware
,
and
if
thy
Fate
has
join'd
A
sickly
Body
to
a
roving
Mind
;
Be
calm
nor
mourn
at
the
Supreme
Decree
,
Nor
think
the
Mandate
shall
be
chang'd
for
thee
,
But
meet
with
Patience
what
thou
canst
not
flee
.
Wou'dst
thou
repine
to
see
thy
Form
decay
,
When
Spio's
Eye-lids
are
forbid
the
Day
!
Might'st
thou
with
us
unbodied
Spirits
fly
,
From
Sphere
to
Sphere
and
trace
the
boundless
Sky
?
Then
wou'd
the
Lives
of
little
Mortals
shew
,
Like
empty
Bubbles
rais'd
of
Morning
Dew
:
All
seem
as
Trifles
,
whether
we
behold
A
Monarch
banish'd
,
or
a
Sparrow
sold
;
A
thoughtless
Insect
trampled
in
the
Mire
,
Or
a
proud
Beauty
in
her
Bloom
expire
.
More
noble
Scenes
enraptur'd
Spirits
view
,
But
the
grand
Prospect
is
too
large
for
you
:
A
closer
Bound
best
suits
thy
narrow
Mind
,
A
few
Examples
of
thy
fading
kind
.
Hast
thou
forgot
the
soft
Iphenia's
Name
,
Whose
smiling
Face
not
Spleen
itself
could
blame
;
Scarce
nineteen
Years
her
dawning
Beauties
knew
,
E'er
the
young
Roses
bid
her
Cheeks
adieu
;
Yet
bless'd
with
all
,
cou'd
please
a
Woman's
Pride
:
In
this
gay
Bloom
the
bright
Iphenia
dy'd
;
Her
Sire
lifts
to
Heav'n
his
mournful
Eyes
,
And
her
sad
Brother
fills
the
Air
with
Cries
:
Her
Brother
Clodius
,
who
to
Grief
resign'd
To
fruitless
Passion
all
his
manly
Mind
.
What
simple
Sorrow
to
the
dead
you
pay
,
Who
soon
must
follow
the
same
dusky
Way
.
For
e'er
the
Transport
of
his
Grief
was
o'er
,
Fate
gave
the
Sign
and
Clodius
was
no
more
.
Still
Pero
liv'd
a
yet
surviving
Son
,
A
little
Space
and
Pero's
Race
was
done
:
Death's
icy
Hand
his
youthful
Limbs
invades
,
And
bids
him
mingle
with
his
kindred
Shades
.
So
quickly
Pero
and
Narcissa
fell
,
Scarce
looking
round
them
e'er
they
bid
farewel
:
Yet
dang'rous
'tis
to
wander
here
too
long
;
These
went
more
willing
as
they
fell
more
young
;
But
Laura's
Name
demands
thy
flowing
Tears
,
Whose
Doubts
increasing
with
her
lengthen'd
Years
,
Serv'd
not
to
clear
but
cloud
the
dusky
Way
,
And
gave
new
Terrors
to
her
final
Day
:
The
dreadful
Moment
wou'd
have
past
as
well
,
At
sixteen
Years
had
weeping
Laura
fell
.
Let
this
,
O
Mira
,
chear
thy
drooping
Mind
,
To
bear
the
Sentence
past
on
all
Mankind
:
I
bore
the
same
,
whose
Life
was
more
desir'd
,
More
lov'd
,
more
known
,
and
justly
more
admir'd
:
Yet
this
grand
Fear
is
wove
with
Nature's
Laws
;
Is
sometimes
right
,
and
sometimes
has
no
Cause
:
Repent
and
mend
—
these
Vapours
then
will
fly
,
And
the
Clouds
brighten
to
a
purer
Sky
;
Still
look
to
Heav'n
and
its
Laws
attend
,
And
next
the
Lines
of
thy
aerial
Friend
.