With equal virtue form'd and equal grace,
The same, distinguish'd by their sex alone:
Her's the mild lustre of the blooming morn,
And his the radiance of the risen day.

They lov'd; but such their guileless passion was,
As in the dawn of time inform'd the heart

Of innocence and undissembling truth.
'Twas friendship heighten'd by the mutual wish,
The enchanting hope, and sympathetic glow,
Beam'd from the mutual eye. Devoting all
To love, each was to each a dearer self;
Supremely happy in the awaken'd power
Of giving joy. Alone, amid the shades,
Still in harmonious intercourse they liv'd
The rural day, and talk'd the flowing heart,
Or sigh'd, and look'd unutterable things.

So pass'd their life, a clear united stream,
By care unruffled; till in evil hour,
The tempest caught them on the tender walk,
Heedless how far, and where its mazes stray'd;
While with each other blest, creative love
Still bade eternal Eden smile around.
Presaging instant fate, her bosom heav'd
Unwonted sighs; and stealing oft a look
Of the big gloom, on Celadon her eye
Fell tearful, wetting her disorder'd cheek.

In vain assuring love, and confidence

In Heaven, repress'd her fear; it grew, and shook
Her frame near dissolution. He perceiv'd
The unequal conflict, and as angels look
On dying saints, his eyes compassion shed
With love illumin'd high. Fear not,' he said,
'Sweet innocence! thou stranger to offence,
And inward storm! He, who yon skies involves
In frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee
With kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft
That wastes at midnight, or the undreaded hour
Of noon, flies harmless: and that very voice,
Which thunders terror through the guilty heart,
With tongues of seraphs whispers peace to thine.
'Tis safety to be near thee, sure, and thus
To clasp perfection" From his void embrace,
D

Mysterious Heaven! that moment to the ground,
A blacken'd corse, was struck the beauteous maid.
But who can paint the lover, as he stood,
Pierc'd by severe amazement, hating life,
Speechless, and fix'd in all the death of woe!
So, faint resemblance! on the marble tomb,
The well-dissembled mourner stooping stands,
For ever silent, and for ever sad.

As from the face of heaven the shatter'd clouds
Tumultuous rove, the interminable sky
Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands
A purer azure. Through the lighten❜d air,
A higher lustre and a clearer calm,
Diffusive, tremble; while, as if in sign
Of danger past, a glittering robe of joy,
Set off abundant by the yellow ray,
Invests the fields; and Nature smiles reviv'd.
'Tis beauty all, and grateful song around,
Join'd to the low of kine, and numerous bleat
Of flocks thick-uibbling through the clover'd vale.
And shall the hymn be marr'd by thankless man,
Most favour'd; who, with voice articulate,
Should lead the chorus of the lower world?
Shall he, so soon forgetful of the hand

That hush'd the thunder, and serenes the sky,
Extinguish'd feel that spark the tempest wak'd,
That sense of powers exceeding far his own,
Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears?

Cheer'd by the milder beam, the sprightly youth Speeds to the well-known pool, whose crystal depth A sandy bottom shews. Awhile he stands

Gazing the inverted landscape, half afraid

To meditate the blue profound below;

Then plunges headlong down the circling flood.
His ebon tresses, and his rosy cheek,

Instant emerge: and, through the obedient wave,
At each short breathing by his lip repell'd,
With arms and legs according well, he makes,

As humour leads, an easy-winding path;
While, from his polish'd sides, a dewy light
Effuses on the pleas'd spectators round.

This is the purest exercise of health,

The kind refresher of the summer heats:

Nor, when cold Winter keens the brightening flood,
Would I weak-shivering linger on the brink.
Thus life redoubles, and is oft preserv'd
By the bold swimmer, in the swift illapse
Of accident disastrous. Hence the limbs
Knit into force; and the same Roman arm,
That rose victorious o'er the conquer'd earth,
First learn'd, while tender, to subdue the wave.
Even, from the body's purity, the mind
Receives a secret sympathetic aid.

Close in the covert of a hazel copse,
Where, winding into pleasing solitudes,
Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat,
Pensive, and pierc'd with love's delightful pangs.
There to the stream that down the distant rocks
Hoarse-murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that
Among the bending willows, falsely he [play'd
Of Musidora's cruelty complain'd.

She felt his flame; but deep within her breast,
In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride,
The soft return conceal'd; save when it stole
In sidelong glances from her downcast eye,
Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs.
Touch'd by the scene, no stranger to his vows,
He fram'd a melting lay, to try her heart;
And if an infant passion struggled there,
To call that passion forth. Thrice happy swain!
A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate
Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine.
For lo conducted by the laughing Loves,
This cool retreat his Musidora sought;
Warm in her cheek the sultry season glow'd;
And, rob'd in loose array, she came to bathe
Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream.
What shall he do? in sweet confusion lost,
And dubious flutterings, he a while remain'd:
A pure ingenuous elegance of soul,

A delicate refinement, known to few,
Perplex'd his breast, and urg'd him to retire :
But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, say,
Ɛay, ye severest, what would you have done?

Meantime, this fairer nymph than ever blest
Arcadian stream, with timid eye around

The banks surveying, stript her beauteous limbs,
To taste the lucid coolness of the flood.
Ah! then, not Paris on the piny top
Of Ida panted stronger, when aside
The rival goddesses the veil divine

Cast unconfin'd, and gave him all their charms,
Than, Damon, thou; as from the snowy leg,
And slender foot, the inverted silk she drew;
As the soft touch dissolv'd the virgin zone;
And, through the parting robe, th' alternate breast,
With youth wild-throbbing, on thy lawless gaze
In full luxuriance rose. But, desperate youth,
How durst thou risk the soul-distracting view;
As from her naked limbs of glowing white,
Harmonious swell'd by Nature's finest hand,
In folds loose-floating fell the fainter lawn;
And fair-expos'd she stood, shrunk from herself,
With fancy blushing, at the doubtful breeze
Alarm'd, and starting like the fearful fawn;
Then to the flood she rush'd: the parting flood
Its lovely guest with closing waves receiv'd;
And every beauty softening, every grace
Flushing anew, a mellow lustre shed:
As shines the lily through the crystal mild;
Or as the rose amid the morning dew,
Fresh from Aurora's hand, more sweetly glows.
While thus she wanton'd, now beneath the wave
But ill-conceal'd; and now with streaming locks,
That half-embraced her in a humid veil,
Rising again, the latent Damon drew
Such madd'ning draughts of beauty to the soul,
As for a while o'erwhelm'd his raptur'd thought
With luxury too daring. Check'd, at last,

By love's respectful modesty, he deem'd

The theft profane, if aught profane to love

Can e'er be deem'd, and struggling from the shade, With headlong hurry fled: but first these lines,

Trac'd by his ready pencil, on the bank

With trembling hand he threw: Bathe on, my fair, Yet uubeheld, save by the sacred eye

Of faithful love: I go to guard thy haunt,
To keep from thy recess each vagrant foot,
And each licentious eye.' With wild surprise,
As if to marble struck, devoid of sense,
A stupid moment motionless she stood:

So stands the statue* that enchants the world,
So bending tries to veil the matchless boast,
The mingled beauties of exulting Greece.
Recovering, swift she flew to find those robes
Which blissful Eden knew not; and, array'd
In careless haste, th' alarming paper snatch'd.
But, when her Damon's well-known hand she saw,
Her terrors vanish'd, and a softer train

Of mix'd emotions, hard to be describ'd,

Her sudden bosom seiz'd: shame void of guilt,
The charming blush of innocence, esteem
And admiration of her lover's flame,

By modesty exalted: even a sense

Of self-approving beauty stole across

Her busy thought. At length, a tender calm
Hush'd by degrees the tumult of the soul;

And on the spreading beech, that o'er the stream
Incumbent hung, she with the sylvan pen

Of rural lovers this confession carv'd,

Which soon her Damon kiss'd with weeping joy:
'Dear youth! sole judge of what these verses mean,
By fortune too much favour'd, but by love,
Alas! not favour'd less, be still as now

Discreet: the time may come you need not fly.'

The sun has lost his rage; his downward orb

Shoots nothing now but animating warmth,

And vital lustre: that, with various ray,

Lights up the clouds, those beauteous robes of heaven,
Incessant roll'd into romantic shapes,

The dream of waking fancy! Broad below,
Cover'd with ripening fruits, and swelling fast
Into the perfect year, the pregnant earth,
And all her tribes rejoice. Now the soft hour
Of walking comes: for him who lonely loves
To seek the distant hills, and there converse
With Nature; there to harmonize his heart,
The Venus of Medici.