FRAGMENT, Supposed to have been written among the RUINS of TINMOUTH CASTLE and MONASTERY, NORTHUMBERLAND

**************** Lonely indeed! 'Tis awful! 'tis superbly ruinous! How chang'd this Scene! *********** In Lethean Years long, long elaps'd, The swift-wing'd Bullet of Destruction, Loud-lab'ring from the brazen Cannon's Womb, Pierc'd hence with Light'ning Speed, the perv'ous Air, And roar'd, re-ecchoed from yon murm'ring Main, Death's thund'ring Summons, and sulphur'ous Call.

How level'd now the lofty Battlements! The sky-topt Towers and rock-rear'd Batteries! Impregnable to Military Art! That ever and anon Time totters now, And rushes down with dread Precipitation! ********************

********** Uninterrupted Solitude! The sacred Tenant of this cheerless Shade, Sequester'd reigns in saddening Silence, 'Amid the hoary Heaps and weed-wrapt Ruins Of yon old venerable Monast'ry: Where Times unnumer'd Offspring ceaseless ply, Hours, Minutes, Moments, in their envious Round, Defacing the proud Dome Devotion rear'd, With all its lonesome, long-untrodden Iles, By erring Superstition erst adorn'd, With many a Cross and crumbling Relique.

More solemn still the dread-imposing Gloom This vaulted Cloister yields, pale Terror's Cell! That traverses now the bramble-wild'ring Waste, Ev'n unappall'd, tho' Cynthia's silvering Beam Bright burnishes the Hemisphere of Heav'n.

Ye blasted Efforts of aspiring Art! Piles! Pillars! shatter'd with a Weight of Years, Afford, beneath your mould'ring Arches' Shade, Unenvied, unmolested Privacy, To the most wretched of the Sons of Woe, Or suff'ring Victims of supernal Fate, High o'er whose dreading and distemper'd Head The Angel of Affliction torrents down His fiercest Vial of unpit'ying Wrath.

************** call forth The saline Tear from sullen Sorrow's Eye, And mournf'ly smooth the haggard, frightful Frown Of raven-vested Melancholy. Ah me! that deep o'erwhelms, oppresses dire, Shocks, sinks, and saddens down my moping Mind, 'Spite of FAITH's Balm, and ev'ry chearful Ray Of hope-inspiring CHRISTIANITY; RELIGION's Messenger! last-born and best, To rouse the sin-stain'd Race of Adam fall'n. *****************

************ Charnel Ground! This Place of Skulls, and low-laid Mortals' Graves, Where sable Mem'ry pours her mourning Wail, And slowly walks her moralizing Round 'Mong letter'd Stones and marbled Monuments!

Hark! from the leafy Thicket of yon Grove, What serenading Chorister awakes The slumb'ring Stillness that surrounds me, And far 'yond TINMOUTH's Villa distant sounds To the dull, drowsy Ear of silent Night? 'Tis PHILOMEL! That sweetly thrills her melodizing Notes, (Love-lengthen'd) to the listening Moon; While, save herself, each feather'd Songster sleeps: — Peace! warbling Innocence! Thy shrill-tun'd Symphony is lost on me, Nor aught accords my solitary Taste, Save the nocturnal Owl's ill-omen'd Scream, The day-skreen'd Bat, or croaking Raven's Cry, Frequenting the obscene and ragg'd Retreats, Where Ruin low'rs, and ven'ming Vermin dwell, The baneful Asp, and poison-bloated Toad, Inseparable 'ssociats of DESPAIR, That ev'n now maddens in my phrenzied Brain, And points the desp'rate, disobedient Sting Of Hell-suggested SUICIDE.

— Triumphing o'er me, Save that the heav'n-born Beam of radiant Hope, Like this tall Turret's air-illuming Flame, That blinks to the benighted Mariner A glimm'ring Passage o'er yon pathless Wave, Cheers, soothes, supports —