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Where the fage matron and her maidens sat,
The trav'ller is bewilder'd on a waste ;
His aqueducts, that led the limpid tide To pure canals, a crystal cool supply ! In the deep duft their barren beauties hide : Time's thirst, unquenchable, has drain'd them dry.
Tho' his rich hours in revelry were spent
Fleet are the fleecy moments ! Ay they must;
Can the deep Statesman, skill'd in great design,
No.--Tho' the paláce bar her golden gate,
What then avails, Ambition's wide stretch'd wipe, The Schoolman's page, or pride of Beauty's bloom? The crape-clad hermit, and the rich rob'd king, Levell’d, lie mix'd promifc'ous in the tomb.
The Macedonian monarch, wise and good, Bad, when the Morning's rosy reign began, Courtiers should call, as round his couch they stood, “Philip! remember thou’rt no more than man!
" Tho' Glory spread thy name from pole to pole ; “ Tho'chou art merciful, and brave, and just; “ Philip! reflect thou’rt posting to the goal “Where mortals mix in undistinguish'd duft !"
So Saladin, for arts and arms renown'd,
And as he rode high in his regal car,
While thus the herald cry'd, -".This son of Pow'r, “ This Saladin to whom the nations bow'd, “ May in the space of one revolving hour, “ Boast of no other spoil but yonder shroud!"
Search where Ambition rag'd, with rigour steel'd, Where Slaughter like the rapid lightning ran, And say, while Mem'ry weeps the blood-Itain'd field, Where lies the chief, and where the common man?
Vain then are pyramids and motto'd itones, And monumental trophies rais'd on high; For Time confounds them with the crumbling bones 'That mix'd in hafty graves unnotic'd lie.
Rolls not beneath the turf the peasant's head Soft as the lord's beneath the labour'd tomb ?
Or sleeps one colder in his close clay-bed
Hither let Lux'ry lead her loose-rob’d train,
A PASTORAL. O'ER moorlands and mountains, rude, barren, and As wilder'd and weary'd I roam,
(bare, A gentle young lhepherdess fees my despair,
And leads me, o'er lawns, to her home. Yeilow sheaves from rich Ceres her cottage had crown'd,
Green rushes were strew'd on her floor, Her casement sweet woodbines crept wantonly round,
And deck'd the sod seats at her door. We sat ourselves down to a cooling repast,
Fresh fruits ! and she cull'd me the best ;
Love Nyly stole into my breast.
(Ye Virgins! her voice was divine !)
“ But take me, fond Shepherd I'm thine." Her air was so modest, her aspect so meek,
So simple, yet sweet, were her charms !
And lock'd the dear maid in my arms.
Now jocund together we tend a fru heep,
And if by yon' prattler, the freim, Reclin’d on her bosom I sink jsicileep,
Her image still softens my dream.
Together we range o'er the now-rising hills,
Delighted with paftoral views,
And point out new themes for my Muse.
The damsel's of humble descent:
THE VISIONS OF FANCY,
IN FOUR ELEGIES,
CHILDREN of Fancy, wither are ye fled ?
Where have ye borne those hope.enliven'd hours, That once with myrtle garlands bound my head,
That once bestrew'd my vernal path with flowers ? In yon fair vale, where blooms the beechen grove,
V."here winds the flow wave thro’the flowery plain, To these fond arms you led the tyrant Love, With Fear, and Hope, and Folly in his train.
My lyre, that, left at careless distance, hung
Light on some pale branch of the ofier shade, To lays of amorous blandishment you sirung,
And o'er my Neep the lulling music play'd. « Rest, gentle youth! while on the quivering breeze
“ Slides to thine ear this softly breathing Atrain; “ Sounds that move smoother than the steps of eale,
" And pour oblivion in the ear of pain. “ In this fair vale eternal spring shall smile,
" And Time unenvious crown each roseate hour; “ Eternal joy shall every care beguile,
“ Breathe in each gale, and bloom in every flower. " This filver stream, that down its crystal way,
“ Frequent has led my musing steps along, 6Shall, fill the same, in funny mazes play,
" And with its murinurs melodise thy song. “ Unfading green shall these fair groves adorn;
- Thoie living meads immortal flowers unfold; “ In rosy smiles shall rise each bluhing morn,
" And every evening close in clouds of gold. “ The tender Loves that watch thy Numbering rest,
“ And round thee flowers and balmy myrtles strew, “ Shail charm, thro' all approaching life, thy breast,
“ With joys for ever pure, for ever new. co' The genial power that speeds the golden dart,
" Each charm of tender paflion shall infpire ; 66 (vith fond affection fill the mutual heart,
66 and reed the flame of ever-young Desire. 66 Come, gentie Loves ! your myrtle galands bring;
"The smiling bower with cluster'd roses spread;