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OF TEMPER.
59


When, by the honour'd shade of Virgil led
Thro' all the dreary circles of the dead,
Hell's fiercest demons threaten'd to divide
The living poet from his shadowy guide;
And bade him, friendless, and alone, return,
Thro' the dire horrors of the dark sojourn.
Not long the lovely fair-one's terrors last;
For safely thro' th' impending rock she past;
And slow advancing to the gloomy strand,
The sullen pilot brings her safe to land.
There, fondly hovering on her guardian plumes,
The heavenly Monitor her charge resumes;
And smiling, leads along the rocky road,
Whole windings open into Spleen's abode.
Thou queen of shades! whose spirit-damping speil
Too oft is seen the poet's pride to quell,
May I unpunish'd by thy subtle power,
Dare to display thy subterranean bower,
And to this wond'ring upper world explain
The shadowy horrors of thy secret reign?