Loose to the wind her azure mantle flies, From her dishevell'd locks she rends the plume; No lustre lightens in her weeping eyes, And on her tear-stain'd cheek no roses bloom. Meanwhile the world, Ambition, owns thy sway, Nor in life's lofty bustling sphere alone, The sphere where monarchs and where heroes toil, Sink Virtue's sons beneath Misfortune's frown, While Guilt's thrill'd bosom leaps at Pleasure's smile. Full oft where Solitude and Silence dwell, Still Grief recoils-How vainly have I strove Yet for a while let the bewilder'd soul O yield a while to Friendship's soft control! Some respite, Friendship, wilt thou not bestow! Come then, Philander, whose exalted mind Looks down from far on all that charms the great; For thou canst bear, unshaken and resign'd, The brightest smiles, the blackest frowns of Fate. Come thou, whose love unlimited, sincere, Who know'st man's frailty, with a favouring eye, And bring thy Delia, sweetly-smiling fair, Though blest with wisdom, and with wit refin'd, To female softness and a form divine. Come, and disperse th' involving shadows drear; Ev'n while the careless disencumber'd soul Can Gaiety the vanish'd years restore, Or on the withering limbs fresh beauty shed, Or soothe the sad inevitable hour, Or chear the dark, dark mansions of the Dead? Still sounds the solemn knell in Fancy's ear, With her how jocund roll'd the sprightly year! Ah! Beauty's bloom avails not in the grave, Youth's lofty mien, nor Age's awful grace: Moulder alike unknown the Prince and Slave, Whelm'd in th' enormous wreck of human race. The thought-fix'd portraiture, the breathing bust, Fancy from Joy still wanders far astray; But 'tis enough; for I resist no more. The traveller thus, that o'er the midnight waste Through many a lonesome path is doom❜d to roam, 'Wilder'd and weary sits him down at last For the long night, and distant far his home. THE balmy Zephyrs o'er the woodland stray, Now thro' the bloomy park their revels take. Pale rise the rugged hills that skirt the North, And Aman murmuring thro' the willows strays. But ah! what means this silence in the grove, |