O'er yon bleak defart's unfrequented round- Or wildly wails o'er thy lamented tomb; Or thrills the warbling note in thy mellifluous fong? I. 2. Oft while on earth 'twas thine to rove Where'er the wild-ey'd goddefs lov'd to roam, The loofe-rob'd graces crown'd with flow'rs, O'er all bright fancy's beamy radiance shone, Then from her glowing lips these melting accents broke. "To thee, my favourite fon, belong To pour the rapture-darting fong, "To paint gay hope's elyfian bower. "From nature's hand to fnatch the dart, Or in the loose robe's floating maze "Or penfive pity pale; "Or love's desponding tale Call from th' intender'd heart the fympathetic tear." II. I. Say, whence the magic of thy mind? Why thrills thy mufic on the springs of thought? Why, at thy pencil's touch refin'd, Starts into life the glowing draught? Profufe the radiant goddefs flood difplay'd, With all her fmiling offspring nigh. Sudden the mantling cliff, the arching wood, The broider'd mead, the landskip, and the grove, * Venus. Hills, vales, and sky-dipt seas, and torrents rude, II. 2. The pale-ey'd genius of the fhade Led thy bold step to Profper's magic bower; Gay fcenes by fancy's touch refin'd Glow'd to the musing mind; Such vifions blefs the hermit's dream, Then flam'd Miranda on th' enraptur'd gaze, II. 3. O lay me near yon limpid ftream, Whofe murmur fooths the ear of woe! * Ariel: fee the Tempeft. Tis 'Tis done :-o'er all the blufhing mead Breathes its mild fragrance on the gale; Titania rob'd in mantle green Sports on the moffy bank:-her train The beauteous shapes appear; While mock-eyed Cynthia near Illumes with streamy ray the filver-mantled lawn III. I. But hark! the tempeft howls afar! Burfts the loud whirlwind o'er the pathlefs wafte! What cherub blows the trump of war? What demon rides the ftormy blast? Diffolves. But ah! what kingly form - Roams the lone defart's defolated maze + ! * See the Midfummer's Night's Dream. Ye pale-ey'd lightnings fpare the cheek of age! Hears not the mourner's unavailing moan: Heart-pierc'd he bleeds, and ftung with wild despair Bares his time-blasted head, and tears his filver hair. III. 2. Lo! on yon long-refounding fhore, Where the rock totters o'er the headlong deep; What fantoms bathed in infant gore Stand muttering on the dizzy fteep! Their murmur shakes the zephyr's wing; The form obeys their pow'rful spell; See, from his gloomy cell Fierce winter starts! his fcowling eye To the deep vault the yelling harpies run *, Its yawning mouth receives th' inferna crew, Dim thro' the black gloom winks the glimmering fun, And the pale furnace gleams with brimftone blue. Hell howls and fiends that join the dire acclaim : Dance on the bubbling tide, and point the livid flame. III. 3. But ah! on forrow's cyprefs bough Can beauty breathe her genial bloom? The witches in Macbeth. t. T4 There |