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Without the smile from partial beauty won,
Till Hymen brought his love-delighted hour,
And still the stranger wist not where to stray,---
The world was sad !--the garden was a wild!
And Man, the hermit, sighd-till Woman smild!
True, the sad power to generous hearts may bring
By wealthless lot, or pitiless command;
Or doom'd to gaze on beauties that adorn
The smile of triumph, or the frown of scorn;
While Memory watches o'er the sad review,
Of joys that faded like the morning dew;
Peace may depart—and life and nature seem
A barren-path-a wildness, and a dream!
But, can the noble mind for ever brood, The willing victim of a weary mood,
On heartless cares that squander life away,
Of hopeless love to murmur and repine!
Her blissful visions on thy pensive hour,
No tear to blot thy memory's pictur'd page,
(For love pursues an ever devious race,
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
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 heavenly when combin'd!
Love on the picture smil'd! Expression pour'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,
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!