Faft by, a Naïad taught her ftream to glide, Which through the dale a winding channel wore ; The filver willow deck'd it's verdant fide, The whisp'ring fedges wav'd along the fhore. Here oft, when morn peep'd o'er the dusky hill; And pour'd in strains like these his artless tale. Ah!' would he say-and then a figh would heave; Ah, Cynthia! sweeter than the breath of morn, Soft as the gentle breath that fans at eve, • Of thee bereft, how shall I live forlorn? • Ah! what avails this fweetly folemn bow'r, That filent ftream where dimpling eddies play; Yon thymy bank, bedeck'd with many a flow'r, • Where maple-tufts exclude the beam of day? • Robb'd of my love; for how can thefe delight, Though lavish Spring her fmiles around has caft! Despair, alas! that whelms the foul in night, • Dims the fad eye, and deadens ev'ry taste. As droops the lily at the blighting gale; Or crimson-fpotted cowflip of the mead, Whose tender ftalk (alas! their stalk fo frail) • Some hafty foot hath bruis'd with heedless tread : As droops the woodbine, when some village hind Hath fell'd the fapling elm it fondly bound; No more it gadding dances in the wind, But trails it's fading beauties on the ground; So droops my foul, dear maid, downcaft and fad, For ever! ah, for ever torn from thee! • Bereft of each sweet hope, which once it had, When love, when treacherous love, first fmil'd on me. Return, blefs'd days! return, ye laughing hours, Which ftrew'd my fimple path with vernal flow'rs, And bade me court chaste Science, and fair Truth. Ye know, the curling breeze, or gilded fly That idly wantons in the noon-tide air, Was not fo free, was not fo gay as I, For, ah! I knew not then, or love, or care. Witness, ye winged daughters of the year, Till Cynthia came, and robb'd my foul of rest! O, have you feen, bath'd in the morning dew, It shrinks, and scarcely trufts the blaze of day. • So foft, fo delicate, so sweet she came, Youth's damask glow juft dawning on her cheek: I gaz'd, I figh'd, I caught the tender flame, Yet not unpity'd was my pain the while ; For oft, befide yon fweet-briar in the dale, With many a blush, with many a melting fmile, She fate and liften'd to the plaintive tale. • Ah, • Ah, me! I fondly dream'd of pleasures rare, Nor deem'd fo fweet a face with fcorn could glow; How could you cruel, then, pronounce despair, • Chill the warm hope, and plant the thorn of woe ? What, though no treasures canker in my cheft, • Nor crowds of suppliant vaffals hail me lord! What, though my roof can boaft no princely guest, • Nor furfeits lurk beneath my frugal board! Yet fhould Content, that fhuns the gilded bed, • With smiling Peace, and Virtue there forgot, And rofe-lip'd Health, which haunts the ftraw-built fhed, With cherub Joy, frequent my little cot: • Led by chafte Love, the decent band should come, • The woodland nymphs, and gentle fays, at eve, Come then, bright maid, and quit the city throng, Scorns the fond vow, and spurns the ruffet ftole. Then, Love, be gone! thy thriftless empire yield; • In youthful toils I'll lofe th' unmanly pain : • With echoing horns I'll rouze the jocund field, Urge the keen chace, and fweep along the plain. < Or • Or all in fome lone mofs-grown tow'r fublime, With midnight lamp I'll watch pale Cynthia round, Explore the choiceft rolls of ancient Time, And heal with Wisdom's balm my hapless wound. < Or elfe I'll roam-Ah, no! that figh profound E northern blafts, and Eurus *, wont to sweep Awhile fufpend your violence, and waft From fandy Wefer † and the broad mouth'd Elbe, Safe o'er th' unruffled main : let ev'ry thought, The east wind. Bremen is fituated on the Wefer, and Hamburgh on the Elbe. Full Full on th' effulgent orb directs his eye, Nine times her monthly progress had renew'd Which gently roll'd befide her, now no more • Ye fragrant fhrubs and cedars, lofty shade, • Farewel! |