Drooping and spiritlefs, at life's defpair,
He bade it pass, not worth his farther care;
When fuddenly he spied a diftant light,

That faintly twinkled through the gloom of night,

And his heart leap'd for joy, and bless'd the welcome Oft-times he doubted, it appear'd fo far,

And hung fo high, 'twas nothing but a star,

[fight.

Or kindled vapour wand'ring through the sky,
But still prefs'd on his fteed, ftill kept it in his eye;
'Till, much fatigue, and many dangers past,
At a huge mountain he arriv'd at laft.

There lighting from his horfe, on hands and knees
Grop'd out the darkfomé road, by flow degrees,
Crawling or clamb'ring o'er the rugged way;
The thunder rolls above, the flames around him play.
Joyful at length he gain'd the steepy height,

And found the rift whence fprang the friendly light.

And here he stopp'd to rest his wearied feet,
And weigh the perils he had ftill to meet;
Unfheath'd his trufty fword, and dealt his eyes
With caution round him to prevent furprize;
Then fummon'd all the forces of his mind,
And ent'ring boldly caft his fears behind :

Refolv'd

Refolv'd to push his way, whate'er withstood,
Or perish bravely as a monarch should.

While he the wonders of the place furvey'd,
And through the various cells at random stray'd,
In a dark corner of the cave he view'd
Somewhat, that in the shape of woman ftood;
But more deform'd than dreams can represent
The midnight hag, or poet's fancy paint

The Lapland witch, when the her broom beftrides,
And scatters storms and tempefts as she rides.
She look'd as nature made her to difgrace

Her kind, and caft a blot on all the race;

Her fhrivel'd skin with yellow fpots befmear'd
Like mouldy records feem'd; her eyes were blear'd;
Her feeble limbs with age and palsy shook;
Bent was her body, haggard was her look.
From the dark nook outcrept the filthy crone,
And propp'd upon her crutch came tott'ring on.

The prince in civil guise approach'd the dame,

Told her his piteous cafe, and whence he came,

1

And 'till Aurora fhould the fhades expel,

Implor'd a lodging in her friendly cell.

Mortal, whoe'er thou art, the fiend began,

And as the fpake a deadly horror ran

Through all his frame; his cheeks the blood forfook,
Chatter'd his teeth, his knees together ftruck.

Whoe'er thou art, that with prefumption rude
Dar'ft on our facred privacy intrude,

And without licence in our court appear,

Know, thou'rt the firft that ever enter'd here.
But fince thou plead'ft excufe, thou'rt hither brought
More by thy fortune than thy own default,

Thy crime, though great, an eafy pardon finds,
For mercy ever dwells in royal minds;

And would you learn from whose indulgent hand
You live, and in whofe aweful prefence stand,
Know farther, through yon wide extended plains
Great Eolus the king of tempefts reigns,
And in this lofty palace makes abode,

Well fuited to his ftate, and worthy of the God.
The various elements his empire own,
And pay their humble homage at his throne;
And hither all the ftorms and clouds refort,
Proud to increase the splendor of his court.
His queen am I, from whom the beauteous race
Of winds arose, sweet fruit of our embrace!
She scarce had ended, when, with wild uproar,
And horrid din, her fons impetuous pour

Around

A

Around the cave; came rufhing in amain
Lybs, Eurus, Boreas, all the boist'rous train;
And close behind them on a whirlwind rode
In clouded majefty the bluft'ring God.
Their locks a thousand ways were blown about;
Their cheeks like full-blown bladders ftrutted out;
Their boafting talk was of the feats th' had done,
Of trees uprooted, and of towns o'erthrown;
And when they kindly turn'd them to accoft

The prince, they almost pierc'd him with their frost.
The gaping hag in fix'd attention stood,

And at the clofe of every tale cried

good,

Bleffing with outstretch'd arms each darling fon,
In due proportion to the mifchief done.

And where, faid fhe, does little Zephyr stray?
Know ye, my fons, your brother's rout to-day?
In what bold deeds does he his hours employ?
Grant heav'n no evil has befall'n my boy!
Ne'er was he known to linger thus before.
Scarce had the fpoke, when at the cavern door
Came lightly tripping in a form more fair
Than the young poet's fond ideas are,
When fir'd with love he tries his utmoft art
To paint the beauteous tyrant of his heart,

A fatin

A fatin veft his flender fhape confin'd,
Embroider'd o'er with flow'rs of every kind,
Flora's own work, when firft the goddess strove
To win the little wanderer to her love.

Of burnish'd filver were his fandals made,
Silver his buskins, and with gems o'erlaid;
A faffron-colour'd robe behind him flow'd,
And added grace and grandeur as he trod.
His wings than lillies whiter to behold,
Sprinkled with azure spots, and streak'd with gold;
So thin their form, and of fo light a kind,

That they for ever danc'd, and flutter'd in the wind.
Around his temples with becoming air,
In wanton ringlets curl'd his auburn hair,
And o'er his fhoulders negligently spread;
A wreath of fragrant rofes crown'd his head.
Such his attire, but O! no pen can trace,
No words can fhew the beauties of his face;
So kind! fo winning! fo divinely fair!
Eternal youth and pleasure flourish there;
There all the little loves and graces meet,

And every thing that's foft, and every thing that's fweet. Thou vagrant, cried the dame in angry tone, Where could't thou loiter thus fo long alone?