NARCISSA.
41
Strangers to Kindness wept: Their Eyes let fall
Inhuman Tears; strange Tears; that trickled down
From marble Hearts! obdurate Tenderness!
A Tenderness that call'd them more severe;
In Spite of Nature's soft Persuasion, steel'd;
While Nature melted, Supersition rav'd;
That mourn'd the Dead; and This deny'd a Grave.
Their Sighs incenst; Sighs foreign to the Will!
Their Will the Tyger suck'd, outrag'd the Storm.
For Oh! the curst Ungodliness of Zeal!
While sinful Flesh relented, Spirit nurst
In blind Infallibility's Embrace,
The Sainted Spirit petrify'd the Breast;
Deny'd the Charity of Dust, to spread
O'er Dust! a Charity their Dogs enjoy.
What could I do? What Succour? What Resource?
With pious Sacrilege, a Grave I stole;
With impious Piety, that Grave I wrong'd;
Short in my Duty; Coward in my Grief!
More like her Murderer, than Friend, I crept,
With soft-suspended Step; and, muffled deep
In midnight Darkness, whisper'd my Last Sigh.
I whisper'd what should echo thro' their Realms:
Nor writ her Name, whose Tomb should pierce the Skies.
Presumptuous Fear! How durst I dread her Foes,
While Nature's loudest Dictates I obey'd?
Pardon Necessity, Blest Shade! Of Grief
And Indignation rival Bursts I pour'd;
Half-execration mingled with my Pray'r;
Kindled at Man, while I his God ador'd;
Sore-grudg'd the Savage Land her Sacred Dust;
Stampt the curst Soil; and with Humanity
(Deny'd Narcissa) wisht them all a Grave.
Glows my Resentment into Guilt? What Guilt
Can equal Violations of the Dead?
Inhuman Tears; strange Tears; that trickled down
From marble Hearts! obdurate Tenderness!
A Tenderness that call'd them more severe;
In Spite of Nature's soft Persuasion, steel'd;
While Nature melted, Supersition rav'd;
That mourn'd the Dead; and This deny'd a Grave.
Their Sighs incenst; Sighs foreign to the Will!
Their Will the Tyger suck'd, outrag'd the Storm.
For Oh! the curst Ungodliness of Zeal!
While sinful Flesh relented, Spirit nurst
In blind Infallibility's Embrace,
The Sainted Spirit petrify'd the Breast;
Deny'd the Charity of Dust, to spread
O'er Dust! a Charity their Dogs enjoy.
What could I do? What Succour? What Resource?
With pious Sacrilege, a Grave I stole;
With impious Piety, that Grave I wrong'd;
Short in my Duty; Coward in my Grief!
More like her Murderer, than Friend, I crept,
With soft-suspended Step; and, muffled deep
In midnight Darkness, whisper'd my Last Sigh.
I whisper'd what should echo thro' their Realms:
Nor writ her Name, whose Tomb should pierce the Skies.
Presumptuous Fear! How durst I dread her Foes,
While Nature's loudest Dictates I obey'd?
Pardon Necessity, Blest Shade! Of Grief
And Indignation rival Bursts I pour'd;
Half-execration mingled with my Pray'r;
Kindled at Man, while I his God ador'd;
Sore-grudg'd the Savage Land her Sacred Dust;
Stampt the curst Soil; and with Humanity
(Deny'd Narcissa) wisht them all a Grave.
Glows my Resentment into Guilt? What Guilt
Can equal Violations of the Dead?
The
