Grant me to feed on beauty's rifled charms,
And clasp a willing damsel in my arms,―
Her bosom fairer than a hill of snow,

And gently bounding like a playful roe;
Her lips more fragrant than the summer air;
And sweet as Scythian musk her hyacinthine hair;
Let new delights each dancing hour employ,
Sport follow sport, and joy succeed to joy.'

The goddess grants the simple youth's request,
And, mildly, thus accosts her lovely guest-
'On that smooth mirror, full of magic light,
Awhile, dear Maia, fix thy wandering sight.'
She looks; and in the' enchanted crystal sees
A bower o'ercanopied with tufted trees:
The wanton stripling lies beneath the shade,
And by his side reclines a blooming maid;
O'er her fair limbs a silken mantle flows,
Through which her youthful beauty softly glows,
And, part conceal'd and part disclosed to sight,
Through the thin texture casts a ruddy light;
As the ripe clusters of the mantling vine
Beneath the verdant foliage faintly shine,
And, fearing to be view'd by envious day,
Their glowing tints unwillingly display.

The youth, while joy sits sparkling in his eyes, Pants on her neck, and on her bosom dies; From her smooth cheek nectareous dew he sips, And all his soul comes breathing to his lips. But Maia turns her modest eyes away, And blushes to behold their amorous play.

She looks again; and sees, with sad surprise, On the clear glass far different scenes arise: The bower, which late outshone the rosy morn, O'erhung with weeds she saw, and rough with thorn;

With sting of asps the leafless plants were wreathed;
And curling adders gales of venom breathed :—
Low sat the stripling on the faded ground,
And in a mournful knot his arms were bound;
His eyes, that shot before a sunny beam,
Now scarcely shed a saddening, dying gleam,
Faint as a glimmering taper's wasted light,
Or a dull ray that streaks the cloudy night :-
His crystal vase was on the pavement roll'd,
And from the bank was fallen his cup of gold;
From which the' envenom'd dregs of deadly hue
Flow'd on the ground in streams of baleful dew,
And, slowly stealing through the wither'd bower,
Poison'd each plant, and blasted every flower:
Fled were his slaves, and fled his yielding fair,
And each gay phantom was dissolved in air;
Whilst in their place was left a ruthless train,
Despair and grief, remorse and raging pain.

Aside the damsel turns her weeping eyes,
And sad reflections in her bosom rise;
To whom thus, mildly, speaks the radiant queen→→
'Take sage example from this moral scene;
See! how vain pleasures sting the lips they kiss,
How asps are hid beneath the bowers of bliss!
Whilst ever fair the flower of temperance blows,
Unchanged her leaf, and without thorn her rose;
Smiling she darts her glittering branch on high,
And spreads her fragrant blossoms to the sky.'
Next, toward the throne she saw a knight*
advance;

Erect he stood, and shook a quivering lance;
A fiery dragon on his helmet shone,

And on his buckler beam'd a golden sun;

VOL. I.

* Glory.

N N

O'er his broad bosom blazed his jointed mail
With many a gem and many a shining scale;
He trod the sounding floor with princely mien,
And thus with haughty words address'd the

queen

'Let falling kings beneath my javelin bleed,
And bind my temples with a victor's meed;
Let every realm that feels the solar ray
Shrink at my frown, and own my regal sway:
Let Ind's rich banks declare my deathless fame,
And trembling Ganges dread my potent name.'
The queen consented to the warrior's prayer;
And his bright banners floated in the air;
He bade his darts in steely tempests fly, [sky;
Flames burst the clouds, and thunders shake the
Death aim'd his lance, earth trembled at his nod,
And crimson conquest glow'd where'er he trod.
And now the damsel, fix'd in deep amaze,
The' enchanted glass with eager look surveys:
She sees the hero in his dusky tent,

His guards retired, his glimmering taper spent ;
His spear, vain instrument of dying praise,
On the rich floor, with idle state, he lays;
His gory falchion near his pillow stood,
And stain'd the ground with drops of purple blood;
A busy page his nodding helm unlaced,
And on the couch his scaly hauberk placed.
Now on the bed his weary limbs he throws,
Bathed in the balmy dew of soft repose:
In dreams he rushes o'er the gloomy field,
He sees new armies fly, new heroes yield;
Warm with the vigorous conflict he appears,
And e'en in slumber seems to move the spheres.
But lo! the faithless page, with stealing tread,
Advances to the champion's naked head;

With his sharp dagger wounds his bleeding breast, And steeps his eyelids in eternal rest: [gore), Then cries (and waves the steel that drops with 'The tyrant dies; oppression is no more.'

Now came an aged sire* with trembling pace; Sunk were his eyes, and pale his ghastly face; A ragged weed of dusky hue he wore,

And on his back a ponderous coffer bore.

The queen with faltering speech he thus address'd

O, fill with gold thy true adorer's chest!'

Behold,' said she, and waved her powerful hand,

'Where yon rich hills in glittering order stand, There load thy coffer with the golden store; Then bear it full away, and ask no more.'

With eager steps he took his hasty way Where the bright coin in heaps unnumber'd lay; There hung enamour'd o'er the gleaming spoil, Scoop'd the gay dross, and bent beneath the toil. But bitter was his anguish to behold The coffer widen, and its sides unfold: And every time he heap'd the darling ore, His greedy chest grew larger than before; Till, spent with pain, and falling o'er his hoard, With his sharp steel his maddening breast he gored: On the loved heap he cast his closing eye, Contented on a golden couch to die.

A stripling, with the fair adventure pleased, Stepp'd forward, and the massy coffer seized; But with surprise he saw the stores decay, And all the long-sought treasures melt away: In winding streams the liquid metal roll'd, And through the palace ran a flood of gold.

* Avarice.

Next, to the shrine advanced a reverend sage Whose beard was hoary with the frost of age; His few gray locks a sable fillet bound,

And his dark mantle flow'd along the ground:
Grave was his port, yet show'd a bold neglect,
And fill'd the young beholder with respect;
Time's envious hand had plough'd his wrinkled
Yet on those wrinkles sat superior grace; [face,
Still full of fire appear'd his vivid eye,

Darted quick beams, and seem'd to pierce the sky.
At length, with gentle voice and look serene,
He waved his hand, and thus address'd the
queen-

Twice forty winters tip my beard with snow,
And age's chilling gusts around me blow;
In early youth, by contemplation led,

With high pursuits my flatter'd thoughts were fed;
To nature first my labours were confined,

And all her charms were open'd to my mind,
Each flower that glisten'd in the morning dew,
And every shrub that in the forest grew:
From earth to heaven I cast my wondering eyes,'
Saw suns unnumber'd sparkle in the skies,
Mark'd the just progress of each rolling sphere,
Described the seasons, and reform'd the year.
At length sublimer studies I began,

And fix'd my level'd telescope on man;

Knew all his powers, and all his passions traced,
What virtue raised him, and what vice debased:
But when I saw his knowledge so confined,
So vain his wishes, and so weak his mind,
His soul a bright obscurity at best,

And rough with tempests his afflicted breast,

* Knowledge.