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There shall he love, when genial morn appears, 95
And the lone cuckoo sighs along the vale,
Where mouldering piles and forests intervene,
Mingling with darker tints the living green;
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!
And the dim sun scarce wanders through the storm;
Yet shall the smile of social love repay,
The ice-chain'd waters slumbering on the shore,
How bright the faggots in his little hall
Blaze on the hearth, and warm the pictur'd wall!
How blest he names, in Love's familiar tone,
Trim the gay taper in his rustic dome,
And light the wint'ry paradise of home;
Some way-worn man benighted in the vale!
135 While fiery hosts in Heav'n's wide circle play,
And bathe in livid light the milky way,
Safe from the storm, the meteor, and the shower,
Some pleasing page shall charm the solemn hour
With pathos shall command, with wit beguile,
A generous tear of anguish, or a smile
Thy woes, Arion! and thy simple tale, 2
Heay'd all their guns, their foundering bark to save,
Yes, at the dead of night, by Lonna’s steep, The seaman's cry was heard along the deep;
There on his funeral waters, dark and wild,
The dying father blest his darling child!
Oh! Mercy, shield her innocence, he cried,
Or will they learn how generous worth sublimes
The strings of nature crack'd with agony !
He, with delirious laugh, the dagger hurld,