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W HILE the Shepherds are blithe on the green,

And welcome the blushes of MAY; With sorrow I look on the scene,

While PHILLIDA wanders away.

But lo! the sweet maiden appears !

Ah, pleas’d, she descends from the stile; She hastes to repay all my fears,

And the pang of my heart, with a smile !

How could PHILLIDA leave me forlorn!

With a frown-at the deed I would rail; But thy smile is the beam of the morn,

That chaces the gloom of the vale.

Thou thinkest it nothing to rove,

And loiter so long from my sight: Know, the loss of a moment in Love,

Is the loss of an age of Delight.




Far from her hallow'd grot, where, mildly

bright, The pointed crystals shot their trembling light; From dripping moss, where sparkling dew-drops fell,

[shell, Where coral glow'd, where twin'd the wreathed Pale Isis lay; a willow's lowly shade Spread its thin foliage o'er the sleeping Maid ; Clos'd was her eye, and from her heaving breast In careless folds loose flow'd her zoneless vest; While down her neck her vagrant tresses flow, In all the awful negligence of woe; Her urn sustain'd her arm, that sculptur'd vase Where Vulcan's art had lavish'd all his grace. Here,full with life,was heaven-taughtScience seen, Known by the laurel wreath and musing mien ;

There cloud-crown'd Fame, here Peace, sedate

and bland, Swell’d the loud trump, and wav'd the olive wand; While solemn domes, arch'd shades, and vistas

green, At well-mark'd distance close the sacred scene.

On this the goddess cast an anxious look, o Then dropp'd a tender tear, and thus she spoke: Yes, I could once with pleas’d attention trace The mimic charms of this prophetic vase ; Then lift my head, and with enraptur'd eyes View on yon plain the real glories rise. Yes, Isis ! oft hast thou rejoic’d to lead Thy liquid treasures o'er yon fav'rite mead: Oft hast thou stopp'd thy pearly car to gaze, While ev'ry Science nurs’d its growing bays ; While ev'ry Youth, with Fame's strong impulse Press’d to the goal, and at the goal untir’d, (fir’d, Snatch'd each celestial wreath to bind his brow The Muses, Graces, Virtues, could bestow.

E'en' now fond Fancy leads th’ ideal train, And ranks her troops on Memory's ample plain; See ! the firm leaders of my patriot line, See! Sidney, Raleigh, Hampden, Somers, shine. See Hough, superior to a tyrant's doom, Smile at the menace of the slave of Rome : Each soul whom truth could fire, or virtue move, Each breast strong panting with its country's love, All that to Albion gave their heart or head, That wisely counsell’d, or that bravely bled, . All, all appear ; on me they grateful smile, The well-earn’d prize of every virtuous toil To me with filial reverence they bring, And hang fresh trophies o'er my honour'd spring. Ah! I remember well yon beechen spray: There Addison first tun'd his polish'd lay; 'Twas there great Cato's form first met his eye, In all the pomp of free-born majosty; [awe, “ My son,” he cried, “ observe this mien with • In solemn lines the strong resemblance draw; “ The piercing notes shall strike each British ear; “ Each British eye shall drop the patriot tear!


6. And, rous'd to glory hy the nervous strain, “ Each youth shall spurnat Slavery's abject reign; “ Shall guard with Cato's zeal Britannia's laws, " And speak, and act, and bleed, in Freedom's

“ cause."

The hero spoke; the bard assenting bow'd ;
The lay to Liberty and Cato flow'd;
While Echo, as she rov'd the vale along,
Join'd the strong cadence of his Roman song,

But, ah! how Stillness slept upon the ground, . How mute attention check'd each rising sound, Scarce stole a breeze to wave the leafy spray, Scarce trilld sweet Philomel her softest lay, When Locke walk'd musing forth! e'en now I view Majestic Wisdom thron’d upon his brow; View Candour smile upon his modest cheek, And from his eye all Judgment's radiance break. 'Twas here the sage his manly zeal express’d, Here stripp'd vain Falsehood of her gaudy vest;

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