The fighs, tears, frantic ftarts, that banish reft,
And all the bursting sorrows of his breast.
But hark! a fudden power attunes the air! Th'inchanting found enamour'd breezes bear ; Now low, now high, they fink, or lift the fong, Which the cave echoes fweet, and fweet the creeks prolong.
1 liften'd, gaz'd, when, wondrous to behold!
From ocean steam'd, a vapour gathering roll'd:
A blue, round fpot on the mid-roof it came,
Spread broad, and redden'd into dazzling flame.
Full-orb'd it fhone, and dimm'd the swimming fight,
While doubling objects danc'd with darkling light. 230
Amaz'd I ftood!-amaz'd I ftill remain !
What earthly power this wonder can explain?
Gradual, at length, the luftre dies away :
My eyes reftor'd, a mortal form furvey.
My Hermit-friend! 'Tis he.-All hail! (he cries) 235
I fee, and would alleviate, thy furprize.
The vanish'd meteor was heaven's meffage meant,
To warn thee hence: I knew the high intent.
Hear then! in this sequester'd cave retir'd,
Departed faints converse with men infpir'd.
'Tis facred ground; nor can thy mind endure,
Yet unprepar'd, an intercourfe fo pure.
Quick let us hence. And now extend thy views
O'er yonder lawn; there find the heaven-born Muse!
Or feek her, where the trufts her tuneful tale
To the mid, filent wood, or vocal vale;
Where trees half check the light with trembling shades,
Clofe in deep glooms, or open clear in glades;
Or where furrounding viftas far defcend,
The landscape varied at each leffening end;
She, only he can mortal thought refine,
And raise thy voice to visitants divine.
WE left the cave. Be Fear (faid I) defy'd!
Virtue (for thou art Virtue) is my guide.
By time-worn fteps a steep afcent we gain,
Whofe fummit yields a profpect o'er the plain.
There, bench'd with turf, an oak our feat extends, 5
Whofe top a verdant, branch'd pavilion bends.
Viftas, with leaves, diverfify the fcene,
Some pale, fome brown, and fome of lively green.
Now, from the full-grown day a beamy shower
Gleams on the lake, and gilds each gloffy flower.
Gay infects sparkle in the genial blaze,
Various as light, and countless as its rays:
They dance on every ftream, and pictur'd play,
Till, by the watery racer, fnatch'd away.
Now, from yon range of rocks, ftrong rays rebound, 15 Doubling the day on flowery plains around : King cups beneath far-ftriking colours glance, Bright as th' etherial glows the green expanfe. Gems of the field !-the topaz charms the fight, Like thefe, effulging yellow ftreams of light.
From the fame rocks, fall rills with foften'd force,
Meet in yon mead, and well a river's fource.
Through her clear channel, fhine her finny fhoals,
O'er fands, like gold, the liquid crystal rolls.
Dimm'd in yon coarfer moor, her charms decay,
And shape, through rustling reeds, a ruffled way..
Near willows short and bushy shadows throw :
Now loft, fhe feems through nether tracts to flow
Yet, at yon point, winds out in filver state,
Like Virtue from a labyrinth of fate.
In lengthening rows, prone from the mountains, run The flocks-their fleeces gliftening in the fun;
Her ftreams they feek, and, 'twixt her neighbouring trees, Recline in various attitudes of ease.
Where the herds fip, the little fcaly fry,
Swift from the shore, in fcattering myriads fly.
Each livery'd cloud, that round th' horizon glows, Shifts in odd fcenes, like earth, from whence it rose. The bee hums wanton in yon jasmine bower, And circling fettles, and defpoils the flower. Melodious there the plumy fongsters meet, And call charm'd Echo from her arch'd retreat. Neat polish'd mansions rife in prospect gay; Time-batter'd towers frown awful in decay; The fun plays glittering on the rocks and spires, And the lawn lightens with reflected fires.
Here Mirth, and Fancy's wanton train advance, And to light measures turn the swimming dance. Sweet, flow-pac'd Melancholy next appears, Pompous in grief, and eloquent of tears.
Here Meditation fhines, in azure dreft,
All-ftarr'd with gems: a fun adorns her creft.
Religion, to whofe lifted, raptur'd eyes
Seraphic hosts descend from opening skies;
Beauty, who sways the heart, and charms the fight; 55
Whofe tongue is music, and whose smile delight;
Whofe brow is majefty; whofe bofom peace;
Who bade creation be, and chaos ceafe ;
Whose breath perfumes the spring; whose eye
Kindled the fun, and gave its light to shine.
Here, in thy likeness, fair Ophelia,* feen,
She throws kind luftre o'er th' enliven'd green.
Next her Defcription, rob'd in various hues,
Invites attention from the pensive Muse!
The Mufe!-fhe comes! refin'd the Paffions wait, 65
And Precept, ever winning, wife, and great.
The Mufe! a thousand spirits wing the air
(Once men, who made like her mankind their care) :
Inamour'd round her prefs th' infpiring throng,
And fwell to ecítacy her folemn fong.
Thus in the dame each nobler grace we find,
Fair Wortley's angel-accent, eyes, and mind.
Whether her fight the dew-bright dawn furveys,
The noon's dry heat, or evening's temper'd rays,
The hours of storm, or calm, the gleby ground, 75
The coral'd fea, gem'd rock, or sky profound,
A Raphael's fancy animates each line,
Each image ftrikes with energy divine;
Bacon and Newton in her thoughts confpire;
Nor fweeter than her voice is Handel's lyre.
My Hermit thus. She beckons us away:
Oh, let us fwift the high beheft obey!
Now through alane, which mingling tracts have croft, The way unequal, and the landscape loft,
We rove.
The lark on wing, the linnet on the spray,
While mufic trembles in their fongful throats,
The bullfinch whiftles fft his flute-like notes.
The bolder blackbird fwells fonorous lays;
The varying thrush commands a tuneful maze;
Each a wild length of melody pursues;
The warblers lively tunes eflay,
While the foft-murmuring, amorous wood-dove coos.
And, when in fpring these melting mixtures flow,
The cuckoo fends her unifon of woe.
But as fimooth feas are furrow'd by a storm;
As troubles all our tranquil joys deform;
So, loud through air, unwelcome noifes found,
And harmony's at once, in difcord, drown'd.
From yon dark cyprefs, croaks the raven's cry;
As diffonant the daw, jay, chattering pie:
The clamorous crows abandon'd carnage seek,
And the harsh owl thrills out a sharpening fhriek.
At the lane's end a high-lath'd gate's prefer'd,
To bar the trespass of a vagrant herd.
Faft by, a meagre mendicant we find,
Whofe ruffet rags hang fluttering in the wind :
Years bow his back, a staff supports his tread,
And foft white hairs fhade thin his palfy'd head.
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