"On Contemplation, or the hallow'd ear "Of Poet, fwelling to feraphic ftrain."

And art thou, STANLEY*, of that facred 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, muft thou feel A mother's love, a mother's tender woe: Who feeks thee ftill, in many a former scene; Secks thy fair form, thy lovely beaming eyes, Thy pleafing converse, by gay lively sense Infpir'd; where moral wisdom mildly shone, 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 self, this opening bloom Of thy enlightened mind and gentle worth. Believe the Mufe: the wintry blast of death Kills not the buds of virtue; no, they spread,

* A young lady, well known to the author, who died at the age of eighteen, in the year 1738.

Beneath the heavenly beam of brighter funs,
Thro' endless ages, into higher powers.

Thus up the mount, in airy vision rapt,
I ftray, regardless whither; till the found
Of a near fall of water every sense

Wakes from the charm of thought: swift-shrinking back,
I check my steps, and view the broken scene.
Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood
Rolls fair, and placid; where collected all,
In one impetuous torrent, down the steep
It thundering fhoots, and shakes the country round.
At first, an azure sheet, it rushes broad;
Then whitening by degrees, as prone it falls,
And from the loud-refounding rocks below
Dash'd in a cloud of foam, it fends aloft
A hoary mift, and forms a ceaseless shower,
Nor can the tortur'd wave here find repose:
But, raging ftill amid the fhaggy rocks,
Now flashes o'er the fcatter'd fragments, now
Aflant the hollow channel rapid darts;
And falling faft from gradual flope to flope,
With wild infracted course, 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 steep-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, diforder'd 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 fowler's guile,
Acrofs 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
By flowering umbrage fhaded; where the bee
Strays diligent, and with th' extracted balm
Of fragrant woodbine loads his little thigh.

Now, while I taste the sweetness of the shade, While Nature lies around deep-lull'd in Noon, Now come, bold Fancy, fpread a daring flight,

And view the wonders of the torrid Zone:
Climes unrelenting! with whofe rage compar'd,
Yon blaze is feeble, and yon fkies are cool.
See, how at once the bright-effulgent fun,
Rifing direct, swift chases from the sky
The fhort-liv'd twilight; and with ardent blaze
Looks gaily fierce thro' all the dazzling air:

He

mounts his throne; but kind before him fends, 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 feasons † pass:

Rocks rich in gems, and mountains big with mines,
That on the high equator ridgy rise,

Whence many a bursting stream auriferous plays:
Majestic woods, of every vigorous green,

* Which blows conftantly between the tropics from the east, or the collateral points, the north-east and fouth-eaft: caused by the preffure of the rarefied 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 passes and repaffes in his annual motion, is twice a-year vertical, which produces this effect.

Stage above ftage, high waving o'er the hills;
Or to the far horizon wide diffus'd,

A boundless deep immensity of shade.
Here lofty trees, to ancient fong unknown,

The noble fons of potent heat and floods
Prone-rufhing from the clouds, rear high to Heaven
Their thorny stems, and broad around them throw
Meridian gloom. Here, in eternal prime,
Unnumber'd fruits of keen delicious tafte
And vital spirit, drink amid the cliffs,
And burning fands that bank the shrubby vales,
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,
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,
Embowering endless, of the Indian fig;
Or thrown at gayer cafe, on fome fair brow,
Let me behold, by breezy murmurs cool'd,
Broad o'er my head the verdant cedar wave,