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ODE TO REMORSE.
259
Thy sharp upbraidings urge
Against the 'unrighteous deed,
Till thine accursed mother shall expire,
And a new world spring forth from renovating fire.
O ! when the glare of day is fled,
And calm, beneath the evening star,
Reflection leans her pensive head,
And calls the passions to her solemn bar ;
Reviews the censure rash, the hasty word,
The purposed act too long deferred,
Of time the wasted treasures lent,
And fair occasions lost and golden hours misspent :
When anxious Memory numbers o'er
Each offered prize we failed to seize ;
Or friends laid low, whom now no more
Our fondest love can serve or please,
And thou, dread power ! bring'st back in terrors drest,
The' irrevocable past, to sting the careless breast ;
