On contemplation, or the hallow'd ear
Of poet, swelling to seraphic strain.”

And art thou, Stanley, of that sacred band?
Alas, for us too soon! Though rais'd above
The reach of human pain, above the flight
Of human joy; yet, with a mingled ray
Of sadly-pleas'd remembrance, must thou feel
A mother's love, a mother's tender woe:
Who seeks thee still, in many a former scene;
Seeks thy fair form, thy lovely-beaming eyes,
Thy pleasing converse, by gay lively sense
Inspir'd: where moral wisdom mildly shone,
Without the toil of art; and virtue glow'd,
In all her smiles, without forbidding pride.
But, O thou best of parents! wipe thy tears;
Or rather to parental nature pay

The tears of grateful joy, who for a while
Lent thee this younger self, this op'ning bloom
Of thy enlighten'd mind and gentle worth.
Believe the muse: the wintry blast of death
Kills not the buds of virtue; no, they spread,

b A young lady, well known to the author, who died at the age of eight the year 1738.

Beneath the heav'nly beam of brighter suns,
Through endless ages, into higher pow'rs.

Thus up the mount, in airy vision wrapt,
I stray, regardless whither; till the sound
Of a near fall of water ev'ry sense

Wakes from the charm of thought: swift shrinking back,

I check my steps, and view the broken scene.
Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood
Rolls fair, and placid; where collected all,
In one impetuous torrent, down the steep
It thund'ring shoots, and shakes the country
round.

At first, an azure sheet, it rushes broad;
Then whit'ning by degrees, as prone it falls,
And from the loud-resounding rocks below
Dash'd in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft
A hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless show'r.
Nor can the tortur'd wave here find repose:
But, raging still amid the shaggy rocks,
Now flashes o'er the scatter'd fragments, now
Aslant the hollow channel rapid darts;

And falling fast from gradual slope to slope,

With wild infracted course, and lessen'd roar,
It gains a safer bed, and steals, at last,
Along the mazes of the quiet vale.

Invited from the cliff, to whose dark brow
He clings, the steep-ascending eagle soars,
With upward pinions through the flood of day;
And, giving full his bosom to the blaze,
Gains on the sun; while all the tuneful race,
Smit by afflictive noon, disorder'd droop,
Deep in the thicket; or, from bow'r to bow'r
Responsive, force an interrupted strain.
The stock-dove only through the forest cooes,
Mournfully hoarse; oft ceasing from his plaint,
Short interval of weary woe! again

The sad idea of his murder'd mate,

Struck from his side by savage fowler's guile,
Across his fancy comes; and then resounds
A louder song of sorrow through the grove.
Beside the dewy border let me sit,

All in the freshness of the humid air;
There in that hollow'd rock, grotesque and wild,
An ample chair moss-lin'd, and over head

By flow'ring umbrage shaded; where the bee

Strays diligent, and with th' extracted balm
Of fragrant woodbine loads his little thigh.

Now, while I taste the sweetness of the shade, While nature lies around deep-lull'd in noon, Now come, bold fancy! spread a daring flight, And view the wonders of the torrid zone: Climes unrelenting! with whose rage compar'd, Yon blaze is feeble, and yon skies are cool.

See, how at once the bright-effulgent sun,
Rising direct, swift chases from the sky
The short-liv'd twilight; and with ardent blaze
Looks gaily fierce through all the dazzling air:
He mounts his throne; but kind before him sends,
Issuing from out the portals of the morn,

The gen'ral breeze, to mitigate his fire,
And breathe refreshment on a fainting world.
Great are the scenes, with dreadful beauty crown'd
And barb'rous wealth, that see, each circling year,
Returning suns and double seasons pass:

c Which blows constantly between the tropics from the east, or the collateral points, the north-east and south-east: caused by the pressure of the rarefied air on that before it, according to the diurnal motion of the sun from east to west.

d In all climates between the tropics, the sun, as he passes and

Rocks rich in gems, and mountains big with mines, That on the high equator ridgy rise,

Whence many a bursting stream aurif'rous plays:
Majestic woods, of ev'ry vig'rous green,

Stage above stage, high waving o'er the hills;
Or to the far horizon wide diffus'd,

A boundless deep immensity of shade.

Here lofty trees, to ancient song unknown,
The noble sons of potent heat and floods

Prone rushing from the clouds, rear high to heav'n
Their thorny stems, and broad around them throw
Meridian gloom. Here, in eternal prime,
Unnumber'd fruits of keen delicious taste
And vital spirit, drink amid the cliffs,
And burning sands that bank the shrubby vales,
Redoubled day, yet in their rugged coats
A friendly juice to cool its rage contain.

Bear me, Pomona! to thy citron groves;

To where the lemon and the piercing lime, With the deep orange, glowing through the green, Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclin'd

repasses in his annual motion, is twice a year vertical, which produces this effect.