But, triumph not, ye peace-enamour'd few! Fire, Nature, Genius, never dwelt with you! Where rapture utter'd vows, and wept between ; 'Tis yours, unmov'd, to fever and to meet ; No pledge is facred, and no home is fweet! 10 15 Who that would ask a heart to dulnefs wed, The waveless calm, the flumber of the dead? No; the wild blifs of Nature needs alloy, And fear and forrow fan the fire of joy! 20 And say, without our hopes, without our fears, Without the home that plighted love endears, Without the fmile from partial beauty won, O! what were man?-a world without a fun! Till Hymen brought his love-delighted hour, In vain the viewlefs feraph ling'ring there, 25 To hail the fun, flow-wheeling from the deep; 30 In vain, to foothe the folitary fhade, The summer wind that shook the spangled tree, And ftill the ftranger wift not where to ftray, 35 The world was fad !—the garden was a wild! And Man, the hermit, figh'd-till Woman fmil'd! True, the fad power to generous hearts may bring Delirious anguish on his fiery wing! 40 Barr'd from delight by Fate's untimely hand, By wealthless lot, or pitilefs command ; Or doom'd to gaze on beauties that adorn The smile of triumph, or the frown of scorn; While Memory watches o'er the fad review Of joys that faded like the morning dew; 45 But, can the noble mind for ever brood, The willing victim of a weary mood, 50 On heartless cares that fquander life away, And cloud young Genius bright'ning into day ! Shame to the coward thought that e'er betray'd The noon of manhood to a myrtle shade !— 1 If Hope's creative spirit cannot raise One trophy facred to thy future days, Scorn the dull crowd that haunt the gloomy fhrine Of hopeless love to murmur and repine ! But, fhould a figh of milder mood exprefs Thy heart-warm wishes, true to happiness, 55 60. (For love pursues an ever devious race, True to the winding lineaments of grace); Yet ftill may Hope her talisman employ To fnatch from Heaven anticipated joy, 70 That burn the brighteft in the pureft heart! When first the Rhodian's mimic art array'd The queen of Beauty in her Cyprian fhade, The happy mafter mingled on his piece Each look that charm'd him in the fair of Greece; To faultlefs Nature true, he ftole a grace From every finer form and fweeter face; 75 And, as he fojourn'd on the Ægean ifles, Woo'd all their love, and treasur'd all their smiles; 80 |