Why should our joys transform to pain;

Why gentle Hyman's silken chain

   A plauge of iron prove?

Bendysh, 'tis strange the charm that binds

Millions of hands, should leave their minds

   At such a loose from love.

In vain I sought the wond'rous cause,

Rang'd the wide fields of Nature's laws,

   And urg'd the scholls in vain;

Then deep in thought within my breast

My soul retir'd, and slumber dress'd

   A bright instructive scene.

O'er the broad lands, and cross the tide,

On Fancy's airy horse I ride,

   (Sweet rapture of the mind!)

'Till on the banks of Ganges flood,

In a tall ancient grove I stood,

   For sacred use design'd.

Hard by, a venerable priest,

Ris'n with his God, the sun, from rest,

   Awoke his morning song;

Thrice he conjur'd the murm'ring stream;

The birth of souls was all his theme,

   And half divine his tongue.

He sang th' eternal rolling flame,

That vital mass, that still the same

   Does all our minds compose:

But shap'd in twice ten thousand frames;

Thence diff'ring souls of diff'ring names;

   And jarring tempers rose.

The mighty power that form'd the mind

One mould for every two design'd,

   And bless'd the new born pair:

This be a match for this; (he said,)

Then down he sent the souls he made,

   To seek them bodies here.

But parting from their warm abode,

They lost their fellows on the road,

   And never join'd their hands:

Ah, cruel Chance, and crossing Fates!

Our eastern souls have dropt their mates

   On Europe's barbarous lands.

Happy the youth that finds the bride

Whose birth is to his own ally'd,

   The sweetest joy of life:

But, oh, the crouds of wretched souls,

Fetter'd to minds of diff'rent moulds,

   And chain'd t' eternal strife.

Thus sang the wond'rous Indian bard;

My soul with vast attention heard,

   While Ganges ceas'd to flow:

Sure then (I cry'd) might I but see

That gentle nymph that twin'd with me,

   I might be happy too.

Some courteous Angel, tell me where,

What distant lands this unknown fair,

   Or distant seas detain?

Swift as the wheel of nature rolls

I'd fly to meet, and mingle souls,

   And wear the joyful chain.