Page:The Triumphs of Temper.djvu/187

---

---

And, inly blessing this victorious hour,
Her soul exults in its recover'd power.
In such mild terms she hails th' insulting peer,
As Spleen, if mortal, must expire to hear;
But, driven for ever from the lovely girl,
The foul fiend riots in the captive earl.
He answers not; but, with a sullen air,
On happier Edwin, who approach'd the fair,
Darts such a glance of rage and envious hate,
As Satan cast on Eden's blissful state,
When on our parents first he fixt his sight,
And undelighted gaz'd on all delight;
So doom'd to look, and doom'd such pangs to feel,
Scornful he turn'd on his elastic heel.

 "O lovely mildness! O angelic maid!
Deserving homage, tho' to scorn betray'd;
Rise still, sweet spirit, rise these wrongs above,
Turn from injurious pride to faithful love;