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The spirits, when they gayeft shine,
Youth, beauty, pleasure, all are thine !
O fun of life! whose heav'nly ray
Lights up and cheers our various day,
The turbulence of hopes and fears,
The storm of fate, the cloud of years,
Till nature, with thy parting light,
Repofes late in DEATH's calm night :
Fled from the trophy'd roofs of state,
Abodes of splendid pain and hate;
Fled from the couch, where, in sweet Neep,
Hot Riot would his anguish steep,
But tosses through the midnight-shade,
Of death, of life, alike afraid;
For ever fled to shady cell,
Where TEMP'RANCÉ, where the muses dwell;
Thou oft art feen, at early dawn,
Slow-pacing o'er the breezy lawn:
Or, on the brow of mountain high,
In filence-feafting ear and eye,
With song and prospect, which abound
From birds, and woods, and waters round.

But when the sun, with noon-tide ray,
Flames forth intolerable day;
While HEAT fits fervent on the plain,
With THIRST and LANGOur in his train :
All nature fick’ning in the blaze :
Thou, in the wild and woody maze,
That clouds the vale with umbrage deep,
Impendent from the neighb’ring Iteep,
Wist find betimes a calm retreat,
Where breathing coolness has her feat.

There, plung'd amid the lhadows brown,
* IMAGINATION lays him down ;
Attentive, in his airy mood,
To ev'ry murmur of the wood:
The bee in yonder flow'ry nook;
The chidings of the headlong brook;
The green-leaf shiv’ring in the gale;
The warbling hill, the lowing vale;

The distant WOODMAN's echoing stroke;
The thunder of the falling oak.
From thought to thought in vision led,
He holds high converse with the dead;
Sages, or poets. See they rise !
And Shadowy skim before his

Hark! ORPHEUs strikes the lyre again,
That softens favages to man:
Lo! Socrates, the sent of heav'n,
To hom its moral will was giv'n.
Fathers and friends of human-kind,
They form’d the nations, or refin'd;
With all that mends the head and heart,
Enlight'ning TRUTH, adorning ART.

While thus I mus'd beneath the shade,
At once the founding breeze was laid :
And NATURE, by the unknown law,
Shook deep with reverential awe.
Dumb SILENCE grew upon the hour ;
A browner night involv'd the bow'r :
When issuing from the inmost wood,
Appear'd fair FREEDOM's genius good.
0, FREEDOM! sov'reign boon of heav'n;
Great charter, with our being giv'n;
For which the PATRIOT and the SAGE,
Havé plann'd, have bled, through ev'ry age !
High privilege of human-race,
Beyond a mortal-monarch's grace:
Who could not give, nor can reclaim,
What but from Gop immediate came?


Scene, a Valley near Bagdat.-Time, Morning. YE PERSIAN maids, attend your poet's lays, " And hear how shepherds pass their

golden days, « Not all are bleft whom fortune's hand sustains fr With wealth in courts, nor all that haunt the


« Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell! “ 'Tis VIRTUE makes the bliss, where'er we dwell.”

Thus selim fung, by sacred TRUTH inspir'd; Nor praise, but such as TRUTH bestowd, desir'd : Wife in himself, his meaning songs convey'd, Informing morals to the SHEPHERD MAID; Or taught the swains that surest bliss to find, What groves nor streams beftow--AVIRTUOUS MIND.

When sweet and blushing, like a virgin bride, The radiant morn resum'd her orient pride, When wanton gales along the vallies play, Breathe on each flow'r, and bear their sweets away : By TIGRIS' wand'ring ways he fate, and sung This useful lesson for the fair and young:

“ Ye PERSIAN dames,” he said, “ to you belong, “ Well may they please, the morals of my fong: “ No fairer maids, I trust, than you are found, “ Grac'd with soft arts, the peopled world around! “ The morn that lights you, to your loves fupplies “ Each gentler ray, delicious to your eyes : “ For you those fow’rs her fragrant hands bestow, “And yours the love that kings delight to know. “ Yet think not these, all beaut’ous as they are, “ The best kind blessings heav'n can grant the fair ! • Who trust alone in beauty's feeble ray, “ Boaft but the worth Bassora's pearls display! Drawn from the deep, we own their surface bright, “ But, dark within, they drink no lustrous light; " Such are the maids, and such the charms they boast; “ By sense unaided, or to VIRTUE loft. “ Self-fatt'ring sex! your hearts believe, in vain, “ That LOVE Thall blind, when once he fires the

« fwain;

“ Or, hope a lover by your faults to win,
“ As spots in ermin beautify the skin:
“ Who seeks secure to rule, be first her care
“ Each softer Virtue that adorns the fair ;

“ Each tender passion man delights to find, The lov'd perfections of a female mind ! “ Blest were the days, when Wisdom held her

“ reign, “ And shepherds fought her on the silent plain; “ With Truth she wedded in the secret grove; “ Immortal TRUTH! and daughters bless’d their

“ love. “ O hafte, fair maids ! ye virtues come away! « Sweet peace and PLENTY lead you on your way! “ The balmy shrub for you shall love our shore,

By Ind excell’d, or ARABY, no more.

“ Loft to our fields, for fo the fates ordain, “ The dear deferters shall return again. • Come thou, whose thoughts as limpid springs are

" clear, « To lead the train, sweet MODESTY, appear: “ Here make thy court amidst our rural scene, “ And SHEPHERD-GIRLS Ihall own thee for their

queen. “ With thee be CHASTITY, of all afraid, Distrusting all, a wise suspicious maid, “ But MAN the most--not more the mountain Dog “ Holds the swift FALCON for her deadly foe. “ Cold is her breaft, like flow'rs that drink the dew, " A filken veil conceals her from the view; “ No wild defires amidst thy train be known, “ But FAITH, whose heart is fix'd on one alone :

Defponding meekness, with her down-cafteyes, “ And friendly Pity, full of tender sighs ; And love the last: by these your hearts approve, “ These are the VIRTUES that must lead to love.'

Thus sung the fwain ; and ancient legends say, The maids of BAGDAT verified the lay : Dear to the plains, the virtues came along; The SHEPHERDS lov’d, and selim bless’d his song.


ALAS! with swift and filent pace,

Impatient time rolls on the year; The seasons change, and nature's face

Now sweetly smiles, now frowns fevere. 'Twas SPRING, 'twas SUMMER, all was gay,

Now AUTUMN bends a cloudy brow; The flow'rs of Spring are swept away,,

And Summer fruits desert the bough. The verdant leaves that play'd on high,

And wanton'd on the western breeze, Now trod in duft neglected lie,

As BOREAs strips the bending trees.
The fields that wav'd with golden grain,

As russet heaths, are wild and bare;
Not moist with dew, but drench'd in rain,

Nor HEALTH, nor PLEASURE, wanders there. No more, while through the midnight-shade,

Beneath the moon's pale orb I ftray, Such pleasing woes my heart invade,

As PROGNE pours the melting lay. From this capricious clime she foars,

O! would fome god but wings fupply! To where each morn the SPRING restores,

Companion of her flight I'd fly. Vain wish! me fate compels to bear,

The downward seasons' iron reign;
Compels to breathe polluted air,

And liver on a blafted plain.
What bliss to life can AUTUMN yield,

If glooms, and show'rs, and storms prevail;
And ceres flies the naked field,

And flow'rs, and fruits, and PHBus fail?

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