Yes, from the gods, from earliest Saturn, sprung
Our facred race; thro' demigods, convey'd,
And he, ally'd to PHOEBUS, ever young,
My god-like boy, muft wed their duteous maid.

Oft, when a mortal vow profanes my ear,
My fire's dread fury murmurs thro' the sky;
And thou'd I yield-his inftant rage appears,
He darts th' uplifted vengeance--and I die.

Have you not heard unwonted thunders roll! Have you not seen more horrid light'nings glare! 'Twas then a vulgar love enfnar'd my foul; 'Twas then-I hardly fcap'd the fatal fnare.

'Twas then a peafant pour'd his amorous vow,
All as I liften'd to his vulgar ftrain ;-
Yet fuch his beauty-wou'd my birth allow,
Dear were the youth, and blifsful were the plain.

But oh! I faint! why waftes my vernal bloom,
In fruitless fearches ever doom'd to rove?
My nightly dreams the toilfome path refume,
And I fhall die-before I find my love.

When last I flept, methought, my ravifh'd eye,
On diftant heaths his radiant form furvey'd;
Tho' night's thick clouds encompass'd all the sky,
The gems that bound his brow, difpell'd the shade.
O how

O how this bofom kindled at the fight!

Led by their beams I urg'd the pleasing chace; Till, on a fudden, these with-held their light— All, all things envy the fublime embrace.

But now no more-behind the distant grove, Wanders my deftin'd youth, and chides my ftay; See, fee, he grafps the fteel-forbear, my loveIANTHE Comes; thy princefs haftes away."

Scornful she spoke, and heedlefs of reply
The lovely maniac bounded o'er the plain;
The piteous victim of an angry sky!

Ah me! the victim of her proud disdain!

ELEGY

ELE GY XVII.

He indulges the fuggeftions of Spleen: an elegy to the winds.

Eole, namque tibi divum pater atque bominum rex
Et mulcere dedit mentes & tollere vento.

TERN monarch of the winds, admit my pray'r!

STE

Awhile thy fury check, thy ftorms confine!

No trivial blaft impells the paffive air,

But brews a tempeft in a breast like mine.

What bands of black ideas fpread their wings!
The peaceful regions of content invade !
With deadly poifon taint the crystal springs!
With noisome vapour blast the verdant shade!

I know their leader, fpleen; and dread the fway
Of rigid EURUS, his detefted fire;

Thro' one my bloffoms and my fruits decay;
Thro' one my pleasures, and my hopes expire.

Like fome pale ftripling, when his icy way
Relenting yields beneath the noontide beam,
I ftand aghaft; and chill'd with fear furvey
How far I've tempted life's deceitful stream!

Where

Where by remorfe impell'd, repuls'd by fears,
Shall wretch'd fancy a retreat explore?
She flies the fad prefage of coming years,

And forr'wing dwells on pleasures now no more!

Again with patrons, and with friends she roves;
But friends and patrons never to return!
She fees the nymphs; the graces, and the loves,
But fees them, weeping o'er LUCINDA'S urn.

She vifits, Isis! thy forsaken stream,
Oh ill forfaken for Boeotian air!

She deems no flood reflects fo bright a beam,
No reed fo verdant, and no flow'rs fo fair.

She dreams beneath thy facred fhades where, peace, Thy bays might ev'n the civil ftorm repel; Reviews thy focial blifs, thy learned ease,

And with no chearful accent cries, farewel!

Farewel, with whom to these retreats I stray'd!
By youthful sports, by youthful toils ally'd!
Joyous we fojourn'd in thy circling fhade,
And wept to find the paths of life divide.

She paints the progrefs of my rival's vow;
Sees ev'ry mufe a partial ear incline;
Binds with luxuriant bays his favour'd brow,

Nor yields the refufe of his wreath to mine.

She

She bids the flatt'ring mirror, form'd to please,
Now blast my hope, now vindicate despair;
Bids my fond verse the love-fick parley cease;
Accuse my rigid fate, acquit my fair.

Where circling rocks defend some pathless vale,
Superfluous mortal, let me ever rove!

Alas! there echo will repent the tale

Where shall I find the filent scenes I love?

Fain would I mourn my luckless fate alone;
Forbid to please, yet fated to admire;
Away my friends! my forrows are my own;
Why should I breathe around my fick defire?

Bear me ye winds, indulgent to my pains,
Near fome fad ruin's ghastly shade to dwell!
There let me fondly eye the rude remains,

And from the mould'ring refufe, build my cell!

Genius of ROME! thy proftrate pomp display;
Trace ev'ry dismal proof of fortune's power;
Let me the wreck of theatres furvey,

Or pensive fit beneath some nodding tow'r.

Or where fome duct, by rolling feasons worn,
Convey'd pure streams to ROME's imperial wall,
Near the wide breach in filence let me mourn;

Or tune my dirges to the water's fall.