Behold th' ascending villas on my side, Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide; 375 380 Their ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend! 384 Thy trees, fair Windsor! now shall leave their woods, And half thy forests rush into the floods, To the bright regions of the rising day; Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll, 391 Led by new stars, and borne by spicy gales! For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow, The coral redden, and the ruby glow, The pearly shell its lucid globe infold, 395 And Phoebus warm the rip'ning ore to gold. The time shall come, when, free as seas or wind, And seas but join the regions they divide; 400 Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold, 405 Till the freed Indians in their native groves Reap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves; Peru once more a race of kings behold, 411 And other Mexicos be roof'd with gold. 415 420 In brazen bonds, shall barb'rous Discord dwell: 426 My humble Muse, in unambitious strains, 10401 THE ARGUMENT. Phaon, a youth of exquisite beauty, was deeply ena. moured of Sappho, a lady of Lesbos, from whom he met with the tenderest returns of passion: but his affection afterwards decaying, he left her, and sailed for Sicily. She, unable to bear the loss of her lover, hearkened to all the mad suggestions of despair; and seeing no other remedy for her present miseries, resolved to throw herself into the sea, from Leucate, a promontory of Epirus, which was thought a cure in cases of obstinate love, and therefore had obtained the name of the Lover's Leap. But before she ven. tured upon this last step, entertaining still some fond hopes that she might be able to reclaim her inconstant, she wrote him this epistle, in which she gives him a strong picture of her distress and misery, occasioned by his absence, and endeavours, by all the artful insinuations and moving expressions she is mistress of, to soothe him to softness and a mutual feeling. [Anon.] SAY, lovely youth, that dost my heart command, Can Phaon's eyes forget his Sappho's hand? Must then her name the wretched writer prove, To thy remembrance lost, as to thy love? Ask not to cause that I new numbers chuse, The Inte 7 lected, and the lyric muse; Love taught my tears in sadder notes to flow, I burn, I burn, as when through ripen'd corn 5 By driving winds the spreading flames are borne ! 11 While I consume with more than Etna's fires! No more my soul a charm in music finds; Music has charms alone for peaceful minds. All other loves are lost in only thine, 15 20 25 Whom would not all those blooming charms surprise, |