This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
OF TEMPER.
13


It seem'd all passions melted into one,
Assum'd the face of all, and yet was none:
Hell stood aghast at its portentous mien,
And shuddering demons call'd the spectre Spleen.
'Hie thee to earth!' its mighty master cried,
'O'er the vex'd globe in heavy vapours ride!
Within its centre fix thy shadowy throne!
With shades thy subjects, and that hell thy own!
Reign there unseen! but let thy strong controul
Be hourly felt in woman's wayward soul!
With darkest poisons from our deep abyss,
Taint that pure source of sublunary bliss!'
Th' enormous phantom, at this potent sound,
Roll'd forth obedient from the vast profound:
The quaking fiends recover'd from their dread,
And hell grew lighter as the monster fled.
But now round earth the gliding vapours run,
Blot the rich æther, and eclipse the sun;
All Nature sickens; and her fairest flower,
Enchanting Woman, feels the baneful Power: