Clear amethyfts combin'd their purple gleam
With the mild em'rald's fight-refreshing beam,
The fapphire fmil'd like yon blue plain above,
And rubies spread the blushing tint of love.
"These are the waters of eternal light,

"The damfel faid, the ftream of heav'nly fight,
"See, in this cup (fhe fpoke, and stoop'd to fill
"A vase of jasper with the sacred rill)

"See how the living waters bound and shine,
"Which this well-polish'd gem can scarce confine! "

From her foft hand the lucid urn he took,

And quaff'd the nectar with a tender look:

Straight from his eyes a cloud of darkness flew,
And all the scene was open'd to his view;

Not all the groves, where ancient bards have told

Of vegetable gems, and blooming gold,

Not all the bow'rs which oft in flow'ry lays

And folemn tales Arabian poets praise,

Though ftreams of honey flow'd through ev'ry mead,

Though balm and amber drop'd from ev'ry reed,

Held half the fweets that nature's ample hand
Had pour'd luxuriant o'er this wondrous land.
All flow'rets here their mingled rays diffufe,
The rainbow's tints to these were vulgar hues;
All birds that in the ftream their pinions dip,
Or from the brink the liquid crystal sip,

Or fhow their beauties to the funny skies,

Here wav'd their plumes that shone with varying dyes;

But chiefly he, that o'er the verdant plain

Spreads the gay eyes that grace his spangled train;

And he, that, proudly failing, loves to fhow
His mantling wings and neck of downy fnow;
Nor abfent he, that learns the human found,
With wavy gold and moving em'ralds crown'd,
Whose head and breast with polish'd faphires glow,
And on whose wing the gems of Indus grow.

The monarch view'd their beauties o'er and o'er,

He was all eye, and look'd from ev'ry pore.

But now the damfel calls him from his trance;

And o'er the lawn delighted they advance:

G 2

They

They pass the hall adorn'd with royal state,
And enter now with joy the fecond gate. *

A foothing found he heard, (but tafted firft
The gushing stream that from the valley burst)
And in the shade beheld a youthful quire

That touch'd with flying hands the trembling lyre;
Melodious notes drawn out with magick art,

Caught with sweet extasy his ravish'd heart;

An hundred nymphs their charming descants play'd,
And melting voices died along the glade;

The tuneful stream that murmur'd as it rose,

The birds that on the trees bewail'd their woes,

The boughs, made vocal by the whisp’ring gale,
Join'd their soft strain, and warbled through the vale,
The concert ends: and now the ftripling hears

A tender voice that strikes his wond'ring ears;

A beauteous bird in our rude climes unknown,

That on a leafy arbour fits alone,

* Hearing.

Strains

Strains his sweet throat, and waves his purple wings,

And thus in human accents foftly fings:

"Rife, lovely pair, a fweeter bow'r invites

"Your eager steps, a bow'r of new delights;
"Ah! crop the flow'rs of pleasure while they blow,
"Ere winter hides them in a veil of fnow.

"Youth, like a thin anemone, displays

"His filken leaf, and in a morn decays.

"See, gentle youth, a rofy-bosom❜d bride,
“See, nymph, a blooming stripling by thy fide?
" Then hafte and bathe your fouls in foft delights,
"A fweeter bow'r your wand'ring steps invites."
He ceas'd; the flender branch from which he flew
Bent its fair head and fprinkled pearly dew.

The damfel fmil'd; the blufhing boy was pleas'd,
And by her willing hand his charmer seiz'd:

Soon the third door he pass'd with eager hafte,
And the third stream was nectar to his taste,

* Smell.

His

His ravifh'd fense a scene of pleasure meets,

A maze of joy, a paradise of sweets.

Through jasmine bow'rs, and vi'let-fcented vales,

On filken pinions flew the wanton gales,

Arabian odours on the plants they left,

And whisper'd to the woods their spicy theft; Beneath the shrubs that spread a trembling fhade The musky roes, and fragrant civets play'd.

As when at eve an eastern merchant roves

From Hadramut to Aden's spikenard groves,
Where fome rich caravan not long before

Has pafs'd, with caffia fraught, and balmy store,

Charm'd with the scent that hills and vales diffuse,

His grateful journey gayly he purfues;

Thus pleas'd the monarch fed his eager foul, And from each breeze a cloud of fragrance ftole.

But now the nymph, who figh'd for sweeter joy, To the fourth gate conducts the blooming boy:

* Tafte.