RAPHAEL, whom virtue snatch'd from rash despair,
Now seem'd the test of what the heart can bear:
As he beheld the barbarous flames ascend,
And o'er the pile the circling smoke extend,
Awhile, by each sublimer thought forsook,
All that was human in his bosom shook;
A frantic wish of death alone inspires
To mingle souls, and rush amid the fires;
Desp'rate he flew tow'rds where the fagots blaz'd,
But, ere he plung'd, from pious habit rais'd
His heart to GOD; that sacred name impress'd
The sense of duty on his rebel breast;
He felt a power divine his rage controul,
An inward voice restrain his daring soul;
Awful against self-murder conscience rose;
Trembling he stopp'd; his heart with horror froze:
"Can the rash suicide e'er hope to join
" IANTHE'S spirit in the realms divine? "