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od, And ply in caves the unutterable trade, 'Midst fiends and spectres, quench the moon in blood, Yell in the midnight storm, or ride the infuriate flood. XLV. But when to horror his amazement rose, A gentler strain the Beldam would rehearse, A tale of rural life, a tale of woes, The orphan-babes, and guardian uncle fierce. O cruel! will no pang of pity pierce That heart by lust of lucre seared to stone! For sure, if aught of virtue last, or verse, To latest times shall tender souls bemoan Those helpless orphan-babes by thy fell arts undone. XLVI. Behold, with berries smeared, with brambles torn, The babes, now famished, lay them down to die; 'Midst the wild howl of darksome woods forlorn, Folded in one another's arms they lie; Nor friend, nor stranger, hears their dying cry: 'For from the town the man returns no more.' But thou, who Heaven's just vengeance darest defy, This deed with fruitless tears shalt soon deplore, When Death lays waste thy house, and flames consume thy store. XLVII. A stifled smile of stern vindictive joy Brightened one moment Edwin's starting tear.-- 'But why should gold man's feeble mind decoy, 'And innocence thus die by doom severe?' O Edwin! while thy heart is yet sincere, The assaults of discontent and doubt repel: Dark even at noontide is our mortal sphere; But let us hope; to doubt, is to rebel; Let us exult in hope, that all shall yet be well. XLVIII. Nor be thy generous indignation checked, Nor checked the tender tear to misery given; From Guilt's contagious power shall that protect, This soften and refine the soul for heaven. But dreadful is their doom, whom doubt hath driven To censure Fate, and pious hope forego; Like yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven, Perfection, beauty, life, they never know, But frown on all that pass, a monument of woe. XLIX. Shall he, whose birth, maturity, and age, Scarce fill the circle of one summer-day, Shall the poor gnat, with discontent and rage, Exclaim that Nature hastens to decay, If but a cloud obstruct the solar ray, If but a momentary s
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