IV...

But, Fancy, downward urge thy flight.

On fome mountain's towering height;

With hoary frosts eternal crown'd,
Rapt with dufky vapours round,

Let me fix my ftedfaft feet.
I feel, I feel the fanning gales;
The wat'ry mifts beneath retreat.
The noontide ray now darts its heat,
And pours its glories o'er the vales.
Glittering to the dancing beams,.
Urging their stubborn way the rocks among,
I hear, and fee a thoufand ftreams
Foam, and roar, and rufh along..
But to the plains defcended,

Their fudden rage is ended.

Now loft in deep recefs of darkfome bowers,
Again now sparkling through the meads
Vefted foft with vernal flowers,
Reflecting the majestic towers,

Its peaceful flood the roving channel leads.

There the rural cots are feen,

From whofe low roof the curling smoke afcends,

And dims with blueish volumes all the

There fome foreft far extends

green.

Its groves embrown'd with lengthen'd shade;
Embofom'd where fome Gothic feat,

Of monarchs once retreat;

In

In wild magnificence array'd,

The pride of anicent times prefents,
And lifts, in contrast fair display'd,
Its fun-reflecting battlements.

V.

Near, fome imperial city seems to reign,
Triumphant o'er the fubject land;
With domes of art Vitruvian crown'd.
See gleam her gilded fpires around,
Her gates in awful grandeur ftand.
Equal to fhine in peace or war fustain ;

Her mighty bulwarks threat the plain

With many a work of death, and armed mound. Where rolls her wealthy river deep and wide,

Tall

groves of crowded masts arife;

Their ftreamers waving to the fkies.

The banks are white with fwelling fails,

And diftant veffels ftem the tide

Circling through pendant cliffs, and watery dales.
The ruffet hills, the valleys green beneath,

The fallows brown, and dusky heath,
The yellow corn, empurpled vine,
In union foft their tints combine,
And, Fancy, all engage thine eye

With a fweet variety.

While clouds the fleeting clouds pursue,
In mutual fhade, and mutual light,
The changing landscape meets the fight;
'Till the ken no more can view;

And heaven appears to meet the ground; The rifing lands, and azure distance drown'd

Amid the gay horizon's golden bound.

VI.

Such are the scenes that oft' invite
To feed thee, Fancy, with delight.
All that nature can create,
Beauteous, awful, new and great,
Sweet enthufiaft, is thy treasure,
Source of wonder, and of pleasure;
Every sense to transport winning,
Still unbounded and beginning.
Then, Fancy, fpread thy wings again;
Unlock the caverns of the main.
Above, beneath, and all around:
Let the tumbling billows spread;
"Till the coral floor we tread,

Exploring all the wealth that decks the realms profound;
There, gather gems that long have glow'd

In the vaft, unknown abode,
The jafper vein'd, the faphire blue,
The ruby bright with crimson hue,
Whate'er the bed refplendent paves,

Or decks the glittering roofs on high,
Through whofe translucent arch are feen the rolling waves.

Fancy, thefe fhall clafp thy veft,

With these thy lovely brows be dreft,
In every gay, and various dye.

But

But hark!the feas begin to roar,
The whiftling winds assault my ear,
The low'ring ftorms around appear.
Fancy, bear me to the fhore.

There in thy realms, bright goddefs, deign,
Secure to fix thy votary's feet:

O give to follow aft' thy train;

Still with accuftom'd lay thy power to greet;
To dwell with Peace, and fport with thee,
Fancy, ever fair and free.

On the Death of a Lady's Owl.

HE Owl expires! death gave the dreadful word, And lovely Anna weeps her fav'rite bird. Ye feather'd choir in willing throngs repair And footh the forrows of the melting fair; In founds of woe the dear-departed greet, With cyprefs ftrew, ye doves, the green retreat; The fateful raven tolls the paffing bell, The folemn dirge be fung by Philomel

Sir Chanticlear, a chief of hardy race,

Shall guard from kites and daws, the facred place.
With your just tears a bard shall mix his own,

And thus, in artless verse, inscribe the stone.

I

EP IT A PH.

Nterr'd within this little space

The bird of wisdom lies;

Learn hence, how vain is ev'ry grace,

How fruitlefs to be wife.

Can mortal ftop the arm of Death
Who ne'er compassion knew?
He* Venus' lover robb'd of breath,
He, Anna's darling flew.

Ah happy bird, to raise those fighs
Which man could ne'er obtain !
Ah happy bird, to cloud those eyes
That fir'd each kneeling swain!

Thrice blefs'd thy life, her joy, her blifs,
Thrice blefs'd thy happy doom;
She gave thee many a melting kiss,
She wept upon thy tomb.

Adonis:

An