On heartless cares that squander life away,
And cloud young Genius bright'ning into day!—
Shame to the coward thought that e'er betray'd
The noon of manhood to a myrtle shade!—'

If Hope's creative spirit cannot raise

One trophy sacred to thy future days,

Scorn the dull crowd that haunt the gloomy shrine

Of hopeless love to murmur and repine!
But, should a sigh of milder mood express

Thy heart-warm wishes, true to happiness,
Should Heav'n's fair harbinger delight to pour
Her blissful visions on thy pensive hour,

No tear to blot thy memory's pictur'd page,

No fears but such as fancy can assuage;

Though thy wild heart some hapless hour may miss The peaceful tenor of unvaried bliss,

(For love pursues an ever devious race,
True to the winding lineaments of grace);
Yet still may Hope her talisman employ

To snatch from Heaven anticipated joy,
And all her kindred energies impart

That burn the brightest in the purest heart!

When first the Rhodian's mimic art array'd. The Queen of Beauty in her Cyprian shade,

The happy master mingled on his piece

Each look that charm'd him in the fair of Greece;

To faultless Nature true, he stole a grace

From every finer form and sweeter face;

And, as he sojourn'd on the Ægean isles,

Woo'd all their love, and treasur'd all their smiles;

Then glow'd the tints, pure, precious, and refin’d,
And mortal charms seem'd heav'nly when combin'd!
Love on the picture smil'd! Expression pour'd
Her mingling spirit there—and Greece ador'd!

So thy fair hand, enamour'd Fancy! gleans
The treasur'd pictures of a thousand scenes!
Thy pencil traces on the Lover's thought
Some cottage-home, from towns and toil remote,
Where love and lore may claim alternate hours,
With peace embosom'd in Idalian bow'rs!
Remote from busy life's bewilder'd way,

O'er all his heart shall taste and Beauty sway!
Free on the sunny slope, or winding shore,
With hermit steps to wander and adore!

There shall he love, when genial morn appears,

Like pensive Beauty smiling in her tears,

To watch the bright'ning roses of the sky,

And muse on Nature with a poet's eye!—

And when the sun's last splendour lights the deep,

The woods, and waves, and murm'ring winds asleep; When fairy harps th' Hesperian planet hail,

And the lone cuckoo sighs along the vale,

His path shall be where streamy mountains swell
Their shadowy grandeur o'er the narrow dell,
Where mouldering piles and forests intervene,
Mingling with darker tints the living green;
No circling hills his ravish'd eye to bound,
Heaven, Earth, and Ocean, blazing all around!

The moon is up-the watch-tow'r dimly burns——

And down the vale his sober step returns;

But pauses oft, as winding rocks convey

The still sweet fall of music far away;

And oft he lingers from his home a while
To watch the dying notes!—and start, and smile!

Let Winter come! let polar spirits sweep

The dark'ning world, and tempest-troubled deep! Though boundless snows the wither'd heath deform, And the dim sun scarce wanders through the storm;

Yet shall the smile of social love repay,

With mental light, the melancholy day!

And, when its short and sullen noon is o'er,

The ice-chain'd waters slumb'ring on the shore,

I