Or with fond languishment around my fair
Sigh in the loose luxuriance of her hair ;
O heed the spell, and hither wing your way,
Like far-off music, voyaging the breeze!
SPIRITS! to you the infant Maid was given
Form'd by the wond'rous Alchemy of Heaven!
No fairer Maid does Love's wide empire know,
No fairer Maid e'er heav'd the bosom's snow.
A thousand Loves around her forehead fly;"
A thousand Loves sit melting in her eye;

Love lights her smile-in Joy's bright nectar dips
The flamy rose, and plants it on her lips!
Tender, serene, and all devoid of guile,

Soft is her soul, as sleeping infant's smile :
She speaks! and hark that passion-warbled song-
Still, Fancy still those mazy notes prolong.
Sweet as th' angelic harps, whose rapturous falls
Awake the soften'd echoes of Heaven's Halls!

O (have I sigh'd) were mine the wizard's rod,
Or mine the power of Proteus, changeful God!
A flower-entangled ARBOUR I would seem

To shield my Love from Noontide's sultry beam :
Or bloom a MYRTLE, from whose od❜rous boughs
My Love might weave gay garlands for her brows.
When Twilight stole across the fading vale,
To fan my Love I'd be the EVENING GALE;
Mourn in the soft folds of her swelling vest,
And flutter my faint pinions on her breast!
On Seraph wing I'd float a DREAM, by night,
To soothe my Love with shadows of delight :-
Or soar aloft to be the SPANGLED Skies,

And gaze upon

her with a thousand eyes!

As when the Savage, who his drowsy frame
Had bask'd beneath the Sun's unclouded flame,

Awakes amid the troubles of the air,

The skiey deluge, and white lightning's glare-
Aghast he scours before the tempest's sweep,
And sad recalls the sunny hour of sleep:-
So tost by storms along Life's wild'ring way
Mine eye reverted views that cloudless day,
When by my native brook I wont to rove
While Hope with kisses nurs'd the Infant Love.

Dear native brook! like PEACE, so placidly
Smoothing thro' fertile fields thy current meek!
Dear native brook! where first young POESY

Star'd wildly-eager in her noontide dream,
Where BLAMELESS PLEASURES dimple QUIET's cheek,
As water-lilies ripple a slow stream!

Dear native haunts! where Virtue still is gay:

Where Friendship's fix'd star sheds a mellow'd ray;

Where LOVE a crown of thornless roses wears :

Where soften'd SORROW smiles within her tears;
And Mem'ry, with a VESTAL's chaste employ,
Unceasing feeds the lambent flame of Joy!
No more your sky-larks melting from the sight
Shall thrill th' attuned heart-string with delight :-
No more shall deck your pensive Pleasures sweet
With wreaths of sober hue my evening seat.
Yet dear to Fancy's eye your varied scene

Of wood, hill, dale, and sparkling brook between!
Yet sweet to Fancy's ́ear the warbled song,

That soars on Morning's wing your vales among.

Scenes of my Hope! the aking eye ye leave
Like yon bright hues that paint the clouds of eve!
Tearful and sad'ning with the sadden'd blaze

Mine eye the gleam pursues with wistful gaze;

Sees shades on shades with deeper tint impend,

Till chill and damp the moonless night descend.