6
The Complaint.
Night I.
Resembles Ocean into Tempest wrought,
To waft a Feather, or to drown a Fly.
Where falls this Censure? It o'erwhelms myself.
How was my Heart incrusted by the World!
O how self-fetter'd was my grov'ling Soul!
How, like a Worm, was I wrapt round and round
In silken Thought, which reptile Fancy spun,
Till darken'd Reason lay quite clouded o'er
With soft Conceit of endless Comfort here,
Nor yet put forth her Wings to reach the Skies!
Night-visions may befriend (as sung above):
Our waking Dreams are fatal. How I dreamt
Of things impossible? (Could Sleep do more?)
Of Joys perpetual in perpetual Change?
Of stable Pleasures on the tossing Wave?
Eternal Sunshine in the Storms of Life?
How richly were my noon-tide Trances hung
With gorgeous Tapestries of pictur'd Joys?
Joy behind Joy, in endless Perspective!
Till at Death's Toll, whose restless Iron Tongue
Calls daily for his Millions at a Meal,
Starting I woke, and found myself undone.
Where now my Phrensy's pompous Furniture?
The cobweb'd Cottage, with its ragged Wall
Of mould'ring Mud, is Royalty to me!
The Spider's most attenuated Thread
Is Cord, is Cable, to Man's tender Tie
On earthly Bliss; it breaks at every Breeze.
O ye blest Scenes of permanent Delight!
Full, above Measure! lasting, beyond Bound!
A Perpetuity of Bliss is Bliss.
Could you, so rich in Rapture, fear an End,
That ghastly Thought would drink up all your Joy,
And quite unparadise the Realms of Light.
Safe are you lodg'd above these rolling Spheres;
To waft a Feather, or to drown a Fly.
Where falls this Censure? It o'erwhelms myself.
How was my Heart incrusted by the World!
O how self-fetter'd was my grov'ling Soul!
How, like a Worm, was I wrapt round and round
In silken Thought, which reptile Fancy spun,
Till darken'd Reason lay quite clouded o'er
With soft Conceit of endless Comfort here,
Nor yet put forth her Wings to reach the Skies!
Night-visions may befriend (as sung above):
Our waking Dreams are fatal. How I dreamt
Of things impossible? (Could Sleep do more?)
Of Joys perpetual in perpetual Change?
Of stable Pleasures on the tossing Wave?
Eternal Sunshine in the Storms of Life?
How richly were my noon-tide Trances hung
With gorgeous Tapestries of pictur'd Joys?
Joy behind Joy, in endless Perspective!
Till at Death's Toll, whose restless Iron Tongue
Calls daily for his Millions at a Meal,
Starting I woke, and found myself undone.
Where now my Phrensy's pompous Furniture?
The cobweb'd Cottage, with its ragged Wall
Of mould'ring Mud, is Royalty to me!
The Spider's most attenuated Thread
Is Cord, is Cable, to Man's tender Tie
On earthly Bliss; it breaks at every Breeze.
O ye blest Scenes of permanent Delight!
Full, above Measure! lasting, beyond Bound!
A Perpetuity of Bliss is Bliss.
Could you, so rich in Rapture, fear an End,
That ghastly Thought would drink up all your Joy,
And quite unparadise the Realms of Light.
Safe are you lodg'd above these rolling Spheres;
The
