Conftantinople.
CONSTANTINOPLE.
WHERE the Thracian channel roars On lordly Europe's eastern shores, Where the proudly jutting land Frowns on Afia's western strand, High on seven hills is feen to shine The fecond Rome of Conftantine. Beneath her feet with graceful pride Propontis spreads his ample tide, His fertile banks profufely pour Of luscious fruits a varied ftore, Rich with a thousand glittering dyes His flood a finny fhoal fupplies, While crowding fails on rapid wing The rifled fouth's bright treasures bring. With crefcents gleaming to the skies Mofques and minarets arife, Mounted on whofe topmoft wall The turban'd priests to worship call; The mournful cypress rises round Tap'ring from the burial-ground; Olympus ever capped with fnow Crowns the busy scene below.
THIS fcene how rich from Thames's fide, While ev'ning funs their amber beam Spread o'er the glaffy-furfac'd tide, And 'mid the mafts and cordage gleam; Blaze on the roofs with turrets crown'd, And gild green pastures ftretch'd around, And gild the flope of that high ground Whofe corn-fields bright the prospect bound!
The white fails glide along the shore, Red streamers on the breezes play, The boatmen ply the dashing oar, And wide their various freight convey; Some Neptune's hardy thoughtless train, And fome the careful fons of gain, And fome the fportive nymph and swain Lift'ning to mufic's foothing ftrain.
But here, while these the fight allure, Still fancy wings her flight away To woods reclufe and vales obfcure, And streams that solitary stray;
The Tempestuous Evening.
To view the pine-grove on the hill, The rocks that trickling springs diftill, The meads that quiv'ring afpens fill, Or alders crowding o'er the hill.
THERE'S grandeur in this founding ftorm, That drives the hurrying clouds along, That on each other feem to throng, And mix in many a varied form; While bursting now and then between, The moon's dim mifty orb is feen,
And cafts faint glimpses on the green.
Beneath the blaft the forefts bend, And thick the branchy ruin lies, And wide the shower of foliage flies: The lake's black waves in tumult blend, Revolving o'er and o'er and o'er, And foaming on the rocky fhore, Whofe caverns echo to their roar.
The Pleasant Evening.
But can my foul the scene enjoy That rends another's breast with pain? O, hapless he, who, near the main, Now fees its billowy rage destroy! Beholds the found'ring bark defcend, Nor knows but what its fate may end The moments of his dearest friend!
DELIGHTFUL looks this clear calm sky, With Cynthia's orb on high!
Delightful looks this smooth green ground, With fhadows caft from cots around; Quick twinkling luftre decks the tide, And cheerful radiance gently falls On that white town and castle walls, That crown the fpacious river's further fide.
And now along the echoing hills The night-bird's strain melodious trills; And now the echoing dale along Soft flows the fhepherd's tuneful fong;
Defcription of a Cottage.
And now, wide o'er the water borne,
The city's mingled murmur fwells,
And lively change of diftant bells,
And varied warbling of the deep-ton'd horn.
DESCRIPTION OF A COTTAGE.
WHERE o'er the brook's moift margin hazels meet, Stands my lone home,-a pleasant, cool retreat. Gay looseftrife there and pale valerian spring, And tuneful reed-birds 'mid the fedges fing. Among green ofiers winds my ftream away, Where the blue halcyon fkims from spray to spray, Where waves the bulrufh as the waters glide, And yellow flag-flowers deck the funny fide. Eaft from my cottage stretch delightful meads, Where rows of willows rife, and banks of reeds; There roll clear rivers; there, old elms between, The mill's white roof and circling wheels are feen.
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