Without the smile from partial beauty won,

O! what were man?-a world without a sun!

Till Hymen brought his love-delighted hour,
There dwelt no joy in Eden's: rosy bow'r!
In vain the viewless seraph ling'ring there,
At starry midnight charm'd the silent air;

In vain the wild-bird carol'd on the steep,

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To hail the sun, slow-wheeling from the deep;

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In vain, to soothe the solitary shade,

Aërial notes in mingling measure play'd;

The summer wind that shook the spangled tree,

The whispering wave, the murmur of the bee;--
Still slowly pass'd the melancholy day,

And still the stranger wist not where to stray,

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The world was sad!-the garden was a wild!

And Man, the hermit, sigh'd-till Woman smil'd!

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,

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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

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Thy heart-warm wishes, true to happiness,

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(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

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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

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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;

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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
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!