t the hand of righteousness afflict thee?
And who shall plead against it? who shall say
To Pow'r Almighty, Thou hast done enough;
Or bid his dreadful rod of vengeance it stay?--
Wait, then, with patience, till the circling hours
Shall bring the time of thy appointed rest
And lay thee down in death.

IMPATIENCE.

Oh! rid me of this torture, quickly there,
My Madam, with the everlasting voice.
The bells, in time of pestilence, ne'er made
Like noise, or were in that perpetual motion.
---------------------------------All my house,
But now, steam'd like a bath, with her thick breath,
A lawyer could not have been heard, nor scarce
Another woman, such a hail of words
She has let fall.

REMORSE AND DESPAIR.

Henceforth, let no man trust the first false step
Of guilt. It hangs upon a precipice,
Whose deep descent in last perdition ends.
How far am I plung'd down, beyond all thought
Which I this evening fram'd--
Consummate horror! guilt beyond, a name!--
Dare not, my soul, repent. In thee, repentance
Were second guilt; and 'twere blaspheming Heav'n
To hope for mercy. My pain can only cease
When gods want power to punish.--Ha!--the dawn--
Rise never more, O fun!--let night prevail:
Eternal darkness close the world's wide scene--
And hide me from myself.

DISTRACTION.

Mercy!--I know it not--for I am miserable.
I'll give thee misery--for here she dwells,
This is her house--where the sun never dawns:
The bird of night sits screaming o'er the roof;
Grim spectres sweep along the horrid gloom;
And nought in heard, but wailings and lamenting.
Hark!--something cracks above;--it shakes--it totters!
And see--the nodding ruin falls to crush me!--
'Tis fallen--'Tis here!--I feel it on my brain!
A waving flood of bluish fire swells o'er me!
And now 'tis out--and I am drown'd in blood.--
Ha! what art thou? thou horrid headless trunk!--
It is my Hastings--See, he wafts me on!
Away I go!--I fly!--I follow thee!

GRATITUDE.

My Father! Oh! let me unlade my breast;
Pour out the fullness of my soul before you;
Shew ev'ry tender, ev'ry grateful thought,
This wond'rous goodness stirs. But 'tis impossible,
And utt'rance all is vile; since I can only
Swear you reign here, but never tell how much.

INTREATY.