"The fame our Lord, and laws, and great purfuit. "Once fome of us, like thee, thro' ftormy life "Toil'd, tempeft-beaten, ere we could attain "This holy calm, this harmony of mind, "Where purity and peace immingle charms. Then fear not us; but with refponfive fong, "Amid thefe dim receffes, undisturb'd "By noify Folly and difcordant Vice,
"Of Nature fing with us, and Nature's God. 555 "Here frequent, at the vifionary hour,
"When musing Midnight reigns or filent Noon, "Angelic harps are in full concert heard,
"And voices chanting from the wood-crown'd hill, "The deepening dale, or inmoft fylvan glade; 569 "A privilege beftow'd by us alone
"On Contemplation, or the hallow'd ear "Of poet, fwelling to feraphic ftrain."
And art thou Stanley*, of that sacred band?
Alas, for us too foon! tho' rais'd above
The reach of human pain, above the flight
Of human joy, yet, with a mingled ray
Of fadly-pleas'd remembrance, must thou feel
A mother's love, a mother's tender woe,
Who feeks thee still in many a former scene;
Seeks thy fair form, thy lovely-beaming eyes,
Thy pleasing converfe, by gay lively sense
A young lady, well known to the Author, who died at the age of eighteen, in the year 1738.
Inspir'd, where moral Wisdom mildly fhone
Without the toil of Art, and Virtue glow'd
In all her fmiles, without forbidding pride.
But, O thou beft of Parents! wipe thy tears,
Or rather to parental Nature pay
The tears of grateful joy, who for a while
Lent thee this younger felf, this opening bloom
Of thy enlighten'd mind and gentle worth.
Believe the Mufe; the wintry blaft of death
Kills not the buds of virtue; no, they fpread,
Beneath the heavenly beam of brighter funs,
Thro' endlefs ages, into higher powers.
Thus up the mount, in airy vifion rapt, 585 I ftray, regardlefs whither, till the found
Of a near fall of water every fenfe
Wakes from the charm of thought: fwift-shrinking
I check my steps, and view the broken scene. [back
Smooth to the fhelving brink a copious flood 590
Rolls fair and placid, where collected all,
In one impetuous torrent down the fleep
It thundering fhoots, and shakes the country round.
At first, an azure fheet, it rushes broad,
Then whitening by degrees, as prone it falls,
And from the loud-refounding rocks below
Dafh'd in a cloud of foam, it fends aloft
A hoary mift, and forms a ceafelefs fhower.
Nor can the tortur'd wave here find repofe,
But raging ftill amid the fhaggy rocks,
Now flashes o'er the fcattered fragments, now
Aflant the hollowed channel rapid darts,
And falling faft from gradual flope to slope,
With wild infracted courfe and leffened roar
It gains a fafer bed, and steals, at last,
Along the mazes of the quiet vale.
Invited from the cliff, to whose dark brow
He clings, the fteep-afcending eagle foars,
With upward pinions, thro' the flood of day,
And, giving full his bofom to the blaze,
Gains on the fun; while all the tuneful race,
Smit by afflictive Noon, difordered droop,
Deep in the thicket; or, from bower to bower
Refponfive, force an interrupted strain.
The stock-dove only thro' the forest cooes
Mournfully hoarfe, oft' ceafing from his plaint,
Short interval of weary woe! again
The fad idea of his murder'd mate,
Struck from his fide by favage fowlers' guile,
Across his fancy comes, and then refounds
A louder fong of forrow thro' the grove.
Befide the dewy border let me fit,
All in the freshness of the humid air;
There in that hollowed rock, grotefque and wild,
An ample chair mofs-lin'd, and over head,
625
By flowering umbrage fhaded, where the bee
Strays diligent, and with th' extracted balm
Of fragrant woodbine loads his little thigh,
Volume I.
Now while I tafte the sweetness of the shade, While Nature lies around deep-lull'd in noon, 630 Now come, bold Fancy, spread a daring flight, And view the wonders of the Torrid zone; Climes unrelenting! with whofe rage compar'd Yon' blaze is feeble, and yon' skies are cool. See how at once the bright effulgent fun, Rifing direct, fwift chases from the fky The short-liv'd twilight, and with ardent blaze Looks gaily fierce o'er all the dazzling air:
He mounts his throne; but kind before him sends,
Iffuing from out the portals of the Morn,
The general breeze*, to mitigate his fire,
And breathe refreshment on a fainting world.
Great are the scenes, with dreadful beauty crown'd
And barbarous wealth, that fee, each circling year,
Returning funs and double seasons pass +;
Rocks rich in gems, and mountains big with mines,
That on the high equator ridgy rife,
Whence many a bursting stream auriferous plays;
Majestic woods, of every vigorous green,
Stage above stage, high waving o'er the hills; 650
Or to the far horizon wide diffus'd,
* Which blows conftantly between the tropics from the eaft, or the collateral points, the north-eaft and fouth-eaft; caufed by the preffure of the rarified air on that before it, according to the diurnal motion of the fun from east to west.
+ In all climates between the tropics, the fun, as he paffes and repaffes in his annual motion, is twice a-year vertical, which produces this effect.
A boundless, deep immensity of shade.
Here lofty trees, to ancient fong unknown,
The noble fons of potent heat and floods,
Prone-rushing from the clouds, rear high to heaven
Their thorny stems, and broad around them throw
Meridian bloom: here, in eternal prime,
Unnumber'd fruits of keen delicious tafte
And vital spirit, drink amid the cliffs,
And burning fands that bank the fhrubby vales, 660
Redoubled day, yet in their rugged coats
A friendly juice to cool its rage contain.
Bear me, Pomona! to thy citron groves,
To where the lemon and the piercing lime,
With the deep orange, glowing thro' the green, 665
Their lighter glories blend. Lay me, reclin'd,
Beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes,
Fann'd by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit.
Deep in the night the maffy locuft sheds.
Quench my hot limbs, or lead me thro' the maze, 670
Embowering endless, of the Indian fig;
Or thrown at gayer ease on some fair brow,
Let me behold, by breezy murmurs cool'd,
Broad o'er my head the verdant cedar wave,
And high palmetos lift their graceful shade:
Or, ftretch'd amid thefe orchards of the fun,
Give me to drain the cocoa's milky bowl,
And from the palm to draw its freshening wine!
More bounteous far than all the frantic juice
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