And thou hadst dashed it, at her soft command, But that Despair and Indignation rose, 95 And told again the story of thy woes; Told the keen insult of the unfeeling heart, The dread dependence on the low-born mind; Told every pang, with which thy soul must smart, Neglect, and grinning Scorn, and Want combined! 100 Recoiling quick, thou badest the friend of pain Roll the black tide of Death through every freezing vein! O spirit blest! Whether the Eternal's throne around, Amidst the blaze of Seraphim, 105 Thou pourest forth the grateful hymn, Or soaring thro' the blest domain Enrapturest Angels with thy strain,-- Grant me, like thee, the lyre to sound, Like thee with fire divine to glow;-- 110 But ah! when rage the waves of woe, Grant me with firmer breast to meet their hate, And soar beyond the storm with upright eye elate! Ye woods! that wave o'er Avon's rocky steep, To Fancy's ear sweet is your murmuring deep! 115 For here she loves the cypress wreath to weave; Watching with wistful eye, the saddening tints of eve. Here, far from men, amid this pathless grove, In solemn thought the Minstrel wont to rove, Like star-beam on the slow sequester'd tide 120 Lone-glittering, through the high tree branching wide. And here, in Inspiration's eager hour, When most the big soul feels the mastering power, These wilds, these caverns roaming o'er, Round which the screaming sea-gulls soar, 125 With wild unequal steps he pass'd along, Oft pouring on the winds a broken song: Anon, upon some rough rock's fearful brow Would pause abrupt--and gaze upon the waves below. Poor Chatterton! _he_ sorrows for thy fate 130 Who would have prais'd and lov'd thee, ere too late. Poor Chatterton! farewell! of darkest hues This chaplet cast I on thy unshaped tomb; But dare no longer on the sad theme muse, Lest kindred woes persuade a kindred doom: 135 For oh! big gall-drops, shook from Folly's wing, Have blacken'd the fair promise of my spring; And the stern Fate transpierc'd with viewless dart The last pale Hope that shiver'd at my heart! Hence, gloomy thoughts! no more my soul shall dwell 140 On joys that were! no more endure to weigh The shame and anguish of the evil day, Wisely forgetful! O'er the ocean swell Sublime of Hope I seek the cottag'd dell Where Virtue calm with careless step may stray; 145 And, dancing to the moon-light roundelay, The wizard Passions weave an holy spell!