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NIGHT the THIRD.
NARCISSA.
Humbly Inscribed to her Grace
The Duchess, of P———.
From Dreams, where Thought in Fancy's Maze runs mad,
To Reason, that Heav'n-lighted Lamp in Man,
Once more I wake; and at the destin'd Hour,
Punctual as Lovers to the Moment sworn,
I keep my Assignation with my Woe.
O! Lost to Virtue, Lost to manly Thought,
Lost to the noble Sallies of the Soul!
Who think it Solitude, to be Alone.
Communion sweet! Communion large, and high!
Our Reason, Guardian Angel, and our God!
Then nearest These, when Others most remote;
And All, ere long, shall be remote, but These.
How dreadful, Then, to meet them all alone,
A Stranger! Unacknowleg'd! Unapprov'd!
Now woo them; wed them; bind them to thy Breast;
To win thy Wish, Creation has no more.
Or if we wish a Fourth, it is a Friend———
But Friends, how mortal! Dang'rous the Desire.
To Reason, that Heav'n-lighted Lamp in Man,
Once more I wake; and at the destin'd Hour,
Punctual as Lovers to the Moment sworn,
I keep my Assignation with my Woe.
O! Lost to Virtue, Lost to manly Thought,
Lost to the noble Sallies of the Soul!
Who think it Solitude, to be Alone.
Communion sweet! Communion large, and high!
Our Reason, Guardian Angel, and our God!
Then nearest These, when Others most remote;
And All, ere long, shall be remote, but These.
How dreadful, Then, to meet them all alone,
A Stranger! Unacknowleg'd! Unapprov'd!
Now woo them; wed them; bind them to thy Breast;
To win thy Wish, Creation has no more.
Or if we wish a Fourth, it is a Friend———
But Friends, how mortal! Dang'rous the Desire.
Take
