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,

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The woods, and waves, and murm'ring winds asleep; 100

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!

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

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,

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With mental light, the melancholy day!

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

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, The kind fair friend, by Nature mark'd his own;

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And, in the waveless mirror of his mind,

Views the fleet years of pleasure left behind,

Since Anna's empire o'er his heart began!

Since first he call'd her his before the holy man!

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Trim the gay taper in his rustic dome,

And light the wint'ry paradise of home;
And let the half-uncurtain'd window hail

Some way-worn man benighted in the vale!

Now, while the moaning night-wind rages high,

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As sweep the shot-stars down the troubled sky,

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- 140 With pathos shall command, with wit beguile,

A generous tear of anguish, or a smile

Thy woes, Arion! and thy simple tale,

2

O'er all the heart shall triumph and prevail!
Charm'd as they read the verse too sadly true,

How gallant Albert, and his weary crew,

Heav'd all their guns, their foundering bark to save,
And toil'd-and shriek'd—and perish'd on the wave!

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Yes, at the dead of night, by Lonna's steep, The seaman's cry was heard along the deep;

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There on his funeral waters, dark and wild,

The dying father blest his darling child!

Oh! Mercy, shield her innocence, he cried,
Spent on the pray'r his bursting heart, and died?

Or will they learn how generous worth sublimes

3

The robber Moor, and pleads for all his crimes!

How

poor Amelia kiss'd, with many a tear,

His hand blood-stain'd, but ever ever dear!
Hung on the tortur'd bosom of her lord,
And wept, and pray'd perdition from his sword!

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160

Nor sought in vain! at that heart-piercing cry
The strings of nature crack'd with agony!
He, with delirious laugh, the dagger hurl'd,

And burst the ties that bound him to the world!