Through Earth's throng'd visions while we toss forlorn, 'Tis tumult all, and rage, and restless strife; But these shall vanish like the dreams of morn, When Death awakes us to immortal life. ELEGY. WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1758. Still shall unthinking man substantial deem The forms that fleet through life's deceitful dream? Till at some stroke of Fate the vision flies, And sad realities in prospect rise; And, from Elysian slumbers rudely torn, The startled soul awakes, to think, and mourn. O ye, whose hours in jocund train advance, Whose spirits to the song of gladness dance, Who flowery plains in endless pomp survey, Glittering in beams of visionary day; 10 O yet, while Fate delays the impending woe, Be roused to thought, anticipate the blow; Lest, like the lightning's glance, the sudden ill Flash to confound, and penetrate to kill; Lest, thus encompass'd with funereal gloom, Like me, ye bend o'er some untimely tomb, Pour your wild ravings in Night's frighted ear, And half pronounce Heaven's sacred doom severe. Wise, beauteous, good! O every grace combined, That charms the eye, or captivates the mind! 20 Fresh, as the floweret opening on the morn, Whose leaves bright drops of liquid pearl adorn! Sweet, as the downy pinion'd gale, that roves To gather fragrance in Arabian groves! Mild, as the melodies at close of day, That, heard remote, along the vale decay! Yet, why with these compared? What tints so fine, What sweetness, mildness, can be match'd with thine? Why roam abroad, since recollection true Restores the lovely form to fancy's view? 30 Still let me gaze, and every care beguile, Gaze on that cheek, where all the graces smile; That soul-expressing eye, benignly bright, Where Meekness beams ineffable delight; That brow, where Wisdom sits enthroned serene, Each feature forms, and dignifies the mean: Still let me listen, while her words impart The sweet effusions of the blameless heart; Till all my soul, each tumult charm'd away, Yields, gently led, to Virtue's easy sway. 40 By thee inspired, O Virtue, age is young, And music warbles from the faltering tongue: Thy ray creative cheers the clouded brow, And decks the faded cheek with rosy glow, Brightens the joyless aspect, and supplies Pure heavenly lustre to the languid eyes: But when youth's living bloom reflects thy beams, Resistless on the view the glory streams: Love, wonder, joy, alternately alarm, And beauty dazzles with angelic charm. 50