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The moon, preceded by the breeze
That bade the clouds retire,
A phenix-nest on fire.
Her chariot mounts on high!
she rides Pale regent of the sky! Where Time upon the wither'd tree
Hath carved the moral chair,
And breathe the placid air.
Its branches brayed the sky!
Shall youth and vigour die. I'm lifted to the blue
We'll search the milky way,
Fatigues my feeble mind;
Is impotent and blind.
That o'er the moorland ran ?Vapours.-How like the
desires That cheat the heart of man ! But there's a friendly guide!-a flame,
That lambent o'er its bed, Enlivens, with a gladsome beam,
The hermit's osier shed,
Among the russet shades of night,
It glances from afar!
It seems a silver star!
If Virtue deigns to dwell,
Gives lustre to her cell.
Progressive to the deep!
Have charm’d the waves to sleep.
Ye indolent! ye gay!
Life wings its trackless way.
Conceals the azure sky;
Throws sacred Truth behind:
She bursts upon the mind.
They lock the shepherd's fold: But hark-I hear a lamb complain, 'Tis lost
An unresisting prize!
The little rambler dies.
As luckless is the virgin's lot,
Whom pleasure once misguides; When hurried from the halcyon cot,
Where Innocence presides The passions, a relentless train!
To tear the victim run: She seeks the paths of peace in vain,
Is conquer'd-and undone. How bright the little insects blaze,
Where willows shade the way; As proud as if their painted rays
Could emulate the day! "Tis thus, the pigmy sons of power
Advance their vain parade! Thus, glitter in the darken'd hour,
And like the glowworms fade! The soft serenity of night
Ungentle clouds deform! The silver host, that shone so bright,
Is hid behind a storm! The angry elements engage!
An oak (an ivied bower!) Repels the rough wind's noisy rage,
And shields me from the shower. The rancour, thus, of rushing Fate
I've learn'd to render vain :
The soul will sit serene.
Amidst that cloister'd gloom, Bids me, and ’tis a solemn thought!
Reflect upon the tomb.
The tomb!—The consecrated dome!
The temple raised to Peace! The port that to its friendly home
Compels the human race ! Yon village, to the moral mind,
A solemn aspect wears; Where sleep hath lulld the labour'd hind,
And kill'd his daily cares :
An emblematic bed!
The temporary dead.
The grave's unmeasured deep;
To meet my final sleep
The gracious moon restored!
That through the forest roar'd!
Renews her gentle strains;
Her wonted seat regains.
And darting from on high,
Shall keep her native sky.
My limbs refreshment find;
Give vigour to the mind.
Rura mibi et irrigui placeant in vallibus amnes.
Now that Summer's ripen’d bloom
Frolics where the Winter frown'd, Stretch'd
these banks of broom, We command the landscape round. Nature in the prospect yields
Humble dales, and mountains bold, Meadows, woodlands, heaths, and fields
Yellow'd o'er with waving gold. Goats upon that frowning steep,
Fearless, with their kidlings browse; Here a flock of snowy sheep,
There a herd of motley cows. On the uplands, every glade
Brightens in the blaze of day; O'er the vales, the sober shade
Softens to an evening gray. Where the rill, by slow degrees,
Swells into a crystal pool, Shaggy rocks and shelving trees
Shoot to keep the waters cool. Shiver'd by a thunderstroke,
From the mountain's misty ridge, O’er the brook a ruin'd oak,
Near the farmhouse, forms a bridge.