Vain hope! no more in choral bands unite Brush the light dew-drops from the spangled lawn. b To her no more Augufta's wealthy pride Pour's the full tribute from Potofi's mine; No more the Maypole's verdant height around Wake the loud carol, and the sportive dance. Sudden in pensive sadness droop'd her head, Faint on her cheeks the blushing crimson dy'd"O! chafte victorious triumphs, whither fled? "My maiden honours, whither gone?" she cry'd. Ah! once to fame and bright dominion born, b The first, the faireft daughter of the skies, Alluding to the country cuftom of gathering May-dew. Then, Then, when at heav'n's prolific mandate sprung Hail'd the glad dawn, and angels call'd me MAY. Space in her empty regions heard the found, And shouting planets in their courfes fung. For ever then I led the conftant year; Saw Youth, and Joy, and Love's enchanting wiles; Saw the mild Graces in my train appear, And infant Beauty brighten in my fmiles. No Winter frown'd. In fweet embrace ally'd, With Autumn's blush, and Summer's lofty mien. Too soon, when man prophan'd the bleffings giv'n, And Vengeance arm'd to blot a guilty age, With bright Aftrea to my native heav'n I fled, and flying faw the Deluge rage: Saw Saw burfting clouds eclipfe the noontide beams, My nectar'd streams, that flow'd on fands of gold. Then vanish'd many a fea-girt ifle and grove, No longer bloom'd primeval Eden's bow'rs, Nor guardian dragons watch'd th' Hefperian steep: With all their fountains, fragrant fruits and flow'rs, Torn from the continent to glut the deep. No more to dwell in fylvan scenes I deign'd, And every echo caught my raptur'd name, And every virgin breath'd her am'rous vows, And precious wreaths of rich immortal fame, Show'r'd by the Mufes, crown'd my lofty brows. • See Plato. But But chief in Europe, and in Europe's pride, My Albion's favour'd realìms, I rose ador'd; Ah me! for now a younger rival claims Do morning funs in ruddier glory rife? Ah! no: the blunted beams of dawning light And Cynthia, riding on the car of night, Pale, Pale, immature, the blighted verdure fprings, When Silence liftens at the midnight hour. Nor wonder, man, that Nature's bashful face, With fhow'rs and funshine in her fickle eyes, Is this the fair invested with my spoil By Europe's laws, and Senates' ftern command? Ungen'rous Europe, let me fly thy foil, And waft my treasures to a grateful land: Again revive on Afia's drooping shore My Daphne's groves, or Lycia's ancient plain : Again to Afric's fultry fands reftore Embow'ring fhades, and Lybian Ammon's fane: Or |