Pitying his toil, the wond'rous truth I told ;
How am'rous Jove trepann'd a mortal fair;
How thro' the race the generous current roll❜d,
And mocks the poet's art, and painter's care.

Yes, from the gods, from earliest Saturn, fprung
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 fhou'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 feen more horrid light'nings glare! "Twas then a vulgar love enfuar'd my soul; 'Twas then-I hardly scap'd the fatal fnare.

'Twas then a peasant pour'd his amorous vow,
All as I liften'd to his vulgar strain ;—
Yet fuch his beauty wou'd my birth allow,
Dear were the youth, and blissful 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

When laft I flept, methought, my ravish'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 fhade.

how this bofom kindled at the fight!

Led by their beams I urg'd the pleasing chace; "Till, on a fudden, thefe with-held their lightAll, all things envy the fublime embrace,

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

Scornful the 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!

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

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

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

STER

Awhile thy fury check, thy ftorms confine!

No trivial blaft impells the paffive air;

But brews a tempest in a breast like mine.

What bands of black ideas fpread their wings!
The peaceful regions of content invade !

With deadly poison taint the crystal springs !
With noifome vapour blast the verdant shade!

I know their leader, spleen; and dread the sway
Of rigid EURUs, his detefted fire;

Thro' one my blossoms 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 survey
How far I've tempted life's deceitful stream!

Where

Where by remorfe impell'd, repuls'd by fears,
Shall wretched 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 fhe 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 forfaken 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 shades were peace,
Thy bays might ev'n the civil storm repel;
Reviews thy social blifs, thy learned ease,

And with no chearful accent cries, farewel!

Farewel, with whom to these retreats I ftray'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 verfe the love-fick parley cease;
Accufe my rigid fate, acquit my fair.

Where circling rocks defend fome pathlefs vale,
Superfluous mortal, let me ever rove!

Alas! there echo will repeat the tale

Where fhall I find the filent scenes I love?

Fain would I mourn my lucklefs fate alone;
Forbid to pleafe, 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 ghaftly 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 difmal proof of fortune's power;
Let me the wreck of theatres survey,

Or penfive fit beneath fome nodding tow'r.

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

Or tune my dirges to the water's fall.

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