Page:Vocal miscellany.pdf/25



In vain attempts the woeful wight
 * That would despair remove;

is little finger has more weight
 * Than all the loins of love.

Thus the poor wretch that left his dome
 * With spirit foul accurst,

Found sev'n, returning late, at home,
 * More dreadful than the first.

Tell hop'd I, once, that constancy
 * Might soften rigour's frown,

Could from the chains of hate set free,
 * And pay my ransom down.

, ah! the judge is too severe,
 * I sink beneath his ire;

The sentence is gone forth, to bear
 * Despair's eternal fire.

hopes of sinners in the day
 * Of grace their fears abate;

ev'ry hope flies far away,
 * When mercy shuts her gate.

The smallest alms could not suffice
 * Love's hunger to assuage;

Despair, the worm that never dies,
 * Still gnaws with ceaseless rage.