(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,
And all her kindred energies impart,
That burn the brightest in the purest heart!

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;

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And, as he fojourn'd on the Ægean ifles,

Woo'd all their love, and treasur'd all their fmiles;

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Then glow'd the tints, pure, precious and refin'd,
And mortal charms feem'd heav'nly when combin'd!
Love on the picture fmil'd! Expreffion pour'd
Her mingling fpirit there-and Greece ador'd!

So thy fair hand, enamour'd Fancy! gleans
The treasur'd pictures of a thousand scenes!
Thy pencil traces on the Lover's thought
Some cottage-home, from towns and toil remote,
Where Love and Lore may claim alternate hours,

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!

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There fhall he love, when genial morn appears,

Like penfive Beauty fmiling in her tears,

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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,
The woods, and waves, and murm'ring winds afleep; 100

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,.
Where mouldering piles and forefts intervene,
Mingling with darker tints the living green;
No circling hills his ravifh'd eye to bound,
Heaven, Earth, and Ocean, blazing all around!.

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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
To watch the dying notes!—and start, and smile!

Let Winter come! Let polar fpirits sweep

The dark'ning world, and tempeft-troubled deep!
Though boundless fnows the wither'd heath deform,
And the dim fun scarce wanders through the ftorm ;

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

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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;

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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!

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Trim the gay taper in his ruftic dome,

And light the wint'ry paradife of home;
And let the half-uncurtain'd window hail
Some way-worn man benighted in the vale!

Now, while the moaning night-wind rages high,
As fweep the fhot-ftars down the troubled sky,

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