(For love purfues an ever devious race, True to the winding lineaments of grace); Yet ftill may Hope her talifman employ To fnatch from Heaven anticipated joy, When firft 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; 70 75 And, as he fojourn'd on the Ægean ifles, Woo'd all their love, and treasur'd all their fmiles; 80 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 fway! Free on the funny flope, or winding shore, With hermit fteps to wander and adore! 85 99 There fhall he love, when genial morn appears, Like penfive Beauty fmiling in her tears, 95 To watch the bright'ning rofes of the sky, And mufe on Nature with a poet's eye!— 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 fwell Their fhadowy grandeur o'er the narrow dell,. 105 The moon is up-the watch-tow'r dimly burns And down the vale his fober step returns; But pauses oft, as winding rocks convey The ftill fweet fall of Mufic far away; And oft he lingers from his home a while Let Winter come! Let polar fpirits sweep The dark'ning world, and tempeft-troubled deep! Yet fhall the smile of focial love repay, With mental light, the melancholy day! And, when its short and fullen noon is o'er, The ice-chain'd waters flumb'ring on the fhore, ΠΙΟ 115 120 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, The kind fair friend, by Nature mark'd his own; 125 And, in the wavelefs mirror of his mind, Views the fleet years of pleasure left behind, Since Anna's empire o'er his heart began! Since firft 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 |