The New Hampshire Gazette And General Advertiser

Parnassian Spring.

A Lady very fearful of Thunder.

Why should my fairest shudder with surprize,
When the red lightning glances through the skies?
Or why the virtuous soul be fill'd with dread,
When thunder rattles o'er thy guiltless head?
No storms should e'er invade that peaceful breast,
That is of conscious innocence possest:
Let lightnings strike with fear the guilty soul,
And let him tremble when the thunders roll:
His troubled conscience echoes back the sound,
And in the awful noise his joys are drown'd;
His fleeting joys at once now disappear,
And leave the wretch a slave to servile fear;
The darkest prospects must his mind o'erspread;
Well may he shrink, and view it then with dread.
But thou my fair! thy mind from guilt is free,
E'en envy's dumb, at the approach of thee.
View then the stormy and tempestuous scene,
With calm composure, and with look serene.