IN THELMON'S breast contending passions rise,
While, with resentment stung, he proudly flies;
The harmonist divine, to madness fir'd,
Rashly to CARMEL'S youthful charms aspir'd;
But she, with Virtue's awful power possess'd,
Taught him to blush, and drove him from her breast.
First anger in his heated bosom rose,
With pride he burns, for speedy vengeance glows:
His instrument, of heaven-inspired sound,
Touch'd by dire discord wounds the air around;
Then vengeance dies, and fierce disdain succeeds;
He flies, while CARMEL'S heart with sorrow bleeds;
His agonies are chang'd to bitter scorn,
Nor can the lofty spirit stoop to mourn;
Disowning every tie that link'd the heart,
He lost in vice the racking sense of smart;
He gave a scope to all his mad desires.
(Perverted genius deepest crimes inspires)
The wanton chords he struck with loose delight,
And wit's strong flashes shed luxuriant light;
Till, satiate with the empty joys of sense,
And oft disgusted with their impotence,
Wearied of follies reap'd without controul,
With self-reproach he smarted to the soul;
With shame and scorn from noisy pleasures flew,
And to the calms of solitude withdrew;
Nature exploring, and with music fir'd,
Lost in research he wander'd as inspir'd.