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Vain hope! no more in choral bands unite
Her virgin vot❜ries, and at early dawn,
Sacred to May and Love's mysterious rite,

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;
Nor fresh-blown garlands village maids provide,
A purer off'ring, at her ruftic fhrine.

No more the Maypole's verdant height around
To Valour's games th' ambitious youth advance:
No merry bells and tabors' sprightlier found

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,
The Earth and fmiling Ocean faw me rife,
With time coeval and the ftar of morn,

b

The first, the faireft daughter of the skies,

Alluding to the country cuftom of gathering May-dew.
The plate garlands of London.

Then,

Then, when at heav'n's prolific mandate sprung
The radiant beam of new-created day,
Celestial harps, to airs of triumph ftrung,

Hail'd the glad dawn, and angels call'd me MAY.

Space in her empty regions heard the found,
And hills, and dales, and rocks, and valleys rung;
The fun exulted in his glorious round,

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,
Three fifter Seafons danc'd th' eternal green;
And Spring's retiring softness gently vy'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,
While founding billows from the mountains roll'd,
With bitter waves polluting all my ftreams,

My nectar'd streams, that flow'd on fands of gold.

Then vanish'd many a fea-girt ifle and grove,
Their forests floating on the wat'ry plain :
Then, fam'd for arts and laws deriv'd from Jove,
My Atalantis funk beneath the main.

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,
Yet oft defcending to the languid earth,
With quick'ning pow'rs the fainting mafs fuftain'd,
And wak'd her flumb'ring atoms into birth.

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;
And pour'd my wealth to other climes deny'd,
From Amalthea's horn with plenty stor❜d.

Ah me! for now a younger rival claims
My ravish'd honours, and to her belong
My choral dances, and victorious games,
To her my garlands and triumphal song.
O fay what yet untasted bounties flow,
What purer joys await her gentle reign?
Do lillies fairer, vi'lets sweeter blow?
And warbles Philomel a fofter strain?

Do morning funs in ruddier glory rife?
Does ev'ning fan her with ferener gales ?
Do clouds drop fatnefs from the wealthier fkies?
Or wantons Plenty in her happier vales?

Ah! no: the blunted beams of dawning light
Skirt the pale orient with uncertain day;

And Cynthia, riding on the car of night,
Through clouds embattled faintly wins her way.

Pale,

Pale, immature, the blighted verdure fprings,
Nor mounting juices feed the fwelling flow'r;
Mute all the groves, nor Philomela fings

When Silence liftens at the midnight hour.

Nor wonder, man, that Nature's bashful face,
And op'ning charms her rude embraces fear:
Is the not sprung of April's wayward race,
The fickly daughter of th' unripen'd year?

With fhow'rs and funshine in her fickle eyes,
With hollow fmiles proclaiming treach❜rous peace;
With blushes, harb'ring in their thin disguise
The blast that riots on the Spring's increase.

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

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