Our life is carried with too strong a tide;
A doubtful cloud our substance bears,
And is the horse of all our years.
Each day doth on a winged whirlwind ride.
We and our glass run out, and must
Both render up our dust.
But his past life who without grief can see;
Who never thinks his end too near,
But says to Fame, 'Thou art mine heir;'
That man extends life's natural brevity-
This is, this is the only way
To outlive Nestor in a day.
THE SEVEN FOUNTAINS.
An Eastern Allegory.
DECK'D with fresh garlands, like a rural bride,
And with the crimson streamer's waving pride,
A wanton bark was floating o'er the main;
And seem'd with scorn to view the azure plain:
Smooth were the waves; and scarce a whispering
Fann'd with his gentle plumes the silken sail.
High on the burnish'd deck a gilded throne
With orient pearls and beaming diamonds shone ;
On which reclined a youth of graceful mien,
His sandals purple, and his mantle green';
His locks in ringlets o'er his shoulders roll'd,
And on his cheek appear'd the downy gold.
Around him stood a train of smiling boys,
Sporting with idle cheer and mirthful toys:
Ten comely striplings *, girt with spangled wings, Blew piercing flutes, or touch'd the quivering strings;
Ten more, in cadence to the sprightly strain,
Waked with their golden oars the slumbering main:
The waters yielded to their guiltless blows,
And the green billows sparkled as they rose.
Long time the barge had danced along the deep,
And on its glassy bosom seem'd to sleep;
But now a glittering isle arose in view †,
Bounded with hillocks of a verdant hue:
Fresh groves and roseate bowers appear'd above
(Fit haunts, be sure, of pleasure and of love);
And, higher still, a thousand blazing spires
Seem'd with gilt tops to threat the heavenly fires.
Now each fair stripling plied his labouring oar,
And straight the pinnace struck the sandy shore.
The youth arose, and, leaping on the strand,
Took his lone way along the silver sand;
While the light bark, and all the airy crew,
Sunk like a mist beneath the briny dew.
With eager steps the young adventurer stray'd
Through many a grove and many a winding glade:
At length he heard the chime of tuneful strings,
That sweetly floated on the Zephyr's wings;
And soon a band of damsels blithe and fair ‡,
With flowing mantles and dishevel❜d hair,
Rush'd, with quick pace, along the solemn wood,
Where rapt in wonder and delight he stood:
In loose transparent robes they were array'd,
Which half their beauties hid, and half display'd.
The follies of youth.
+ The world.
The follies and vanities of the world.
A lovely nymph approach'd him with a smile, And said, 'O, welcome to this blissful isle; For thou art he whom ancient bards foretold, Doom'd in our clime to bring an age of gold: Hail, sacred king! and from thy subject's hand Accept the robes and sceptre of the land.'
Sweet maid!' said he, 'fair learning's heavenly
[gleam;
O'er my young mind ne'er shed her favouring
Nor has my arm e'er hurl'd the fatal lance,
While desperate legions o'er the plain advance.
How should a simple youth, unfit to bear
The steely mail, that splendid mantle wear?'
"Ah!' said the damsel, 'from this happy shore
We banish wisdom and her idle lore;
No clarions here the strains of battle sing,—
With notes of mirth our joyful valleys ring.
Peace to the brave:-o'er us the beauteous reign,
And ever charming pleasures form our train.'
This said, a diadem, inlaid with pearls,
She placed respectful on his golden curls;
Another o'er his graceful shoulder threw
A silken mantle of the rose's hue, [flow'd,
Which, clasp'd with studs of gold, behind him
And through the folds his glowing bosom show'd.
Then in a car, by snow-white coursers drawn,
They led him o'er the dew-besprinkled lawn,
Through groves of joy and arbours of delight,
With all that could allure his ravish'd sight;
Green hillocks, meads, and rosy grots he view'd,
And verdurous plains with winding streams be-
On every bank, and under every shade, [dew'd.
A thousand youths, a thousand damsels play'd;
Some wantonly were tripping in a ring
On the soft border of a gushing spring;
While some, reclining in the shady vales,
Told to their smiling loves their amorous tales :
But when the sportful train beheld from far
The nymphs returning with the stately car,
O'er the smooth plain with hasty steps they came,
And hail'd their youthful king with loud acclaim;
With flowers of every tint the paths they strow'd,
And cast their chaplets on the hallow'd road.
At last they reach'd the bosom of a wood,
Where, on a hill, a radiant palace stood;
A sumptuous dome, by hands immortal made,
Which on its walls and on its gates display'd
The gems that in the rocks of Tibet glow,
The pearls that in the shells of Ormus grow.
And now a numerous train advance to meet
The youth descending from his regal seat;
Whom to a rich and spacious hall they led,
With silken carpets delicately spread :
There on a throne with gems unnumber'd graced
Their lovely king six blooming damsels placed *,
And, meekly kneeling, to his modest hand
They gave the glittering sceptre of command;
Then on six smaller thrones they sat reclined,
And watch'd the rising transports of his mind :
When thus the youth a blushing nymph address'd,
And, as he spoke, her hand with rapture press'd—
Say, gentle damsel, may I ask, unblamed,
How this gay isle and splendid seats are named?
And you, fair queen of beauty and of grace,
Are you of earthly or celestial race?
To me the world's bright treasures were unknown, Where late I wander'd, pensive and alone;
* The pleasures of the Senses.
And, slowly winding on my native shore,
Saw the vast ocean roll, but saw no more;
Till from the waves, with many a charming song,
A barge arose, and gaily moved along;
The jolly rowers reach'd the yielding sands,
Allured my steps, and waved their shining hands:
I went, saluted by the vocal train,
And the swift pinnace cleaved the waves again;
When on this island struck the gilded prow,
I landed full of joy: the rest you know.
Short is the story of my tender years:
Now speak, sweet nymph, and charm my listening ears.'
[flowers' These are the groves for ever deck'd with The maid replied, and these the fragrant bow
Where Love and Pleasure hold their airy court,
The seat of bliss, of sprightliness and sport;
And we, dear youth! are nymphs of heavenly line;
Our souls immortal, as our forms divine:
For Maia, fill'd with Zephyr's warm embrace,
In caves and forests cover'd her disgrace;
At last she rested on this peaceful shore,
Where, in yon grot, a lovely boy she bore,
Whom, fresh and wild and frolic from his birth,
She nursed in myrtle bowers, and call'd him Mirth.
He on a summer's morning chanced to rove
Through the green labyrinth of some shady grove,
Where, by a dimpled rivulet's verdant side,
A rising bank, with woodbine edged, he spied:
There, veil'd with flowerets of a thousand hues,
A nymph lay bathed in slumber's balmy dews
(This maid by some, for some our race defame,
Was Folly call'd, but Pleasure was her name):
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