Here on the brink of a pellucid stream,

Circling in eddies o'er its moss-grown bed, Where ever and anon a quivering beam, Piercing the covert, on the surface play'd:

A Beauty lay, surpassing all the train
Of virgin Delia, or Idalia's queen;
Or what of dryads poets sweetly feign,
On Ida, or Thessalian Oeta seen.

And by her side a form imperial lay,

With roses, and with myrtle garlands crown'd; The wither'd laurel cast in scorn away,

The pomp of war in Lydian measures drown'd.

The little Loves that flutter'd on the boughs,

In grateful bondage did their limbs entwine, And strove to join them closer than their vows, With woodbine sweet, and twisted eglantine.

But weak all bonds when those of Beauty fail;
The monarch sated left the flowery bed,
Nor griev'd to see the maid his loss bewail,
Nor mingled parting tears with those she shed.

Now swift advancing to the guilty bower,

With frantic step the injur'd queen drew nigh; And arm'd for vengeance seiz'd the fatal hour, When all things slept but rage and jealousy.

Each eager hand a deadly weapon fill'd,

A pointed dagger, and a poison'd bowl; My ebbing blood her mad demeanor chill'd, And anguish unallay'd possess'd my soul.

Ah stop, inhuman! with a faultering tongue
And inarticulate voice, as in a dream,
I cry'd; and strait the rattling thunder rung,
And livid lightnings in the welkin gleam!

No more the mazy grove, or bower appear'd,
But all around a waste and barren plain;
The scatter'd trees of leaves and branches bar'd,
And blanch'd by frowning winds and beating rain.

And Murder shrieking hideous wander'd there :
And ruthless Envy, and relentless Hate,
With snaky locks, and shrivell'd bosoms bare,
Whilst lurking felons on their motions wait.

And soon the landscape shifting like a cloud,
To less'ning distance bore the hellish crew;
Now twang in fainter sounds their yellings loud;
Now vanish'd quite; a milder scene I view.

Of chequer'd light and shade, a sober dawn,
Faint thro' a lingering vapor did disclose,
A hamlet seated on an open lawn,

And from each roof the pillar'd smoke arose.

For now with frequent challenge, had the cock
His rivals menacing, awak'd the swain;
Now in the pen impatient bleats the flock,
And ruddy streaks the horizon distain.

The crouching dog the moon no longer bays,
But stretch'd supine upon the social hearth
He lies, rejoicing in the crackling blaze,

Whilst slaunting sun-beams dry the moisten'd earth.

Whilst to the strain of rural minstrelsy,

A band forth issuing to a neighbouring hill
Welcom❜d the morn with decent jollity,
And all the air their youthful carols fill.

With unskill'd hands a simple crown they wove
Of vervain, and the never-fading bay ;
And rais'd a throne within a rude alcove ;
To grace the parent of the British lay :

Old Chaucer, who in rough, unequal verse,
Sung quaint allusion and facetious tale ;

And ever as his jests he would rehearse,
Loud peals of laughter echo'd thro' the vale :

And eager gap'd the rustic listening throng,
And still their joy and laughter they renew ;
And warlike barons, soften'd by the song,

From loud alarms to mute attention drew.

But short-liv'd pleasure soon to sorrow chang'd,
For melody a sigh, for mirth a tear;
And now the swains in solemn order rang'd,
Surround the bard extended on his bier.

What tho' succeeding poets, as their sire,
Revere his memory, and approve his wit ;
Tho' Spenser's elegance and Dryden's fire
His name to ages far remote transmit ;

His tuneless numbers hardly now survive,
As ruins of a dark and Gothic age;

And all his blithsome tales their praise derive From Pope's immortal song, and Prior's page!

Again, quick rising thro' the tufted green,
Turrets and lofty battlements ascend;
Trees half obscuring columns, intervene,

And real boughs with sculptur'd fruitage blend.

And arched windows shine with torches clear,
Soothing the wanderer. A delusive home!
And busy crouds of ministers appear,

Decking with jocund haste a festive room.

And now of sprightly youths and damsels gay,
A wanton bevy at the board was set,

And all intent they seem'd on amorous play,

For kindling glances, kindling glances met.

Their volant fingers o'er the chorded lyre,
With modulating touch the artists ply;
Pursuing still to animate desire,

Strains that in thrilling undulations die.

And every cheek with deep suffusion glow'd, Denoting thought inflam'd, and troubled breast, And passion in seducing sighs avow'd

Mutual, yet still by decency represt.

But soon excess to madding riot led,
Ensuing meaning jest, and licence bold;
Till comely Order from the banquet fled,
Asham'd the lustful orgies to behold.

A youth exalted high above the rest,
In bad pre-eminence conspicuous shone !
And blind submission to his lewd behest,
Unrivall❜d lewdness from them all had won.

And deeply was he skill'd in wanton lore,
With fertile thought suggesting every art,
To make impurer, fires impure before,
Tainting at once the manners and the heart.

Pleasing proportion, youthful Beauty's aid,
And bland complacency and winning smile,
And wit diffusive tempting to persuade,

Maintain❜d his power, and held him in the toil.