Then glow'd the tints, pure, precious, and refin❜d, So thy fair hand, enamour'd Fancy gleans With Peace embofom'd in Idalian bow'rs! Remote from bufy Life's bewilder'd way, O'er all his heart fhall Tafte and Beauty (way! Free on the funny flope, or winding shore, With hermit steps to wander and adore! 85 90 There shall he love, when genial morn appears, Like penfive Beauty smiling in her tears, To watch the bright'ning rofes of the sky,. And mufe on Nature with a poet's eye !— 95 And when the fun's laft fplendour lights the deep, When fairy harps th' Hefperian planet hail, And the lone cuckoo fighs along the vale, His path fhall be where ftreamy mountains swell. Their fhadowy grandeur o'er the narrow dell, 105 Mingling with darker tints the living green; The moon is up-the watch-tow'r dimly burns And oft he lingers from his home a while To watch the dying notes!-and start, and smile !: Let Winter come! let polar fpirits sweep The dark'ning world, and tempeft-troubled deep! Yet fhall the fmile of focial love repay, With mental light, the melancholy day! And, when its fhort and fullen noon is o'er, The ice-chain'd waters slumb'ring on the shore, LIS I 20 How bright the faggots in his little hall Blaze on the hearth, and warm the pictur'd wall ! How bleft he names, in Love's familiar tone, 125 The kind fair friend, by Nature mark'd his own; And, in the waveless mirror of his mind, Views the fleet years of pleasure left behind, Since Anna's empire o'er his heart began! Since first he call'd her his before the holy man! 130 Trim the gay taper in his ruftic dome, And light the wint'ry paradife of home; Now, while the moaning night-wind rages high, 135 While fiery hosts in Heav'n's wide circle play, And bathe in livid light the milky way, Safe from the form, the meteor, and the fhower, Some pleafing page shall charm the folemn hour- 140 Thy woes, Arion! and thy fimple tale, * O'er all the heart fhall triumph and prevail ! Charm'd as they read the verse too fadly true, 145 How gallant Albert, and his weary crew, Heav'd all their guns, their foundering bark to fave, Yes, at the dead of night, by Lonna's fteep, The feaman's cry was heard along the deep; 150 |