Nor wine to cheer his heart, nor fire to burn,
Nor place to rest, nor prospect to return;
Drooping and spiritless, at life's despair,
He bade it pass, not worth his farther care;
When suddenly be spied a distant light,
That faintly twinkled thro' the gloom of night,
And his heart leapt for joy, and bless'd the wel-
come sight,

Oft times he doubted, it appear'd so far,
And hung so high, 'twas nothing but a star,
Or kindling vapor wand'ring through the sky;
But still press'd on his steed, still kept it in his

eye;

Till much fatigue and many dangers past,
At a huge mountain he arriv'd at last.
There lighting from his horse, on hands and
knees

Grop'd out the darksome road by slow degrees,
Crawling or clamb'ring o'er the rugged way,
The thunder rolls above, the flames around him
play.

Joyful at length he gain'd the steepy height, And found the rift whence sprang the friendly light;

And here he stopp'd to rest his wearied feet, And weigh the perils he had still to meet; Unsheath'd his trusty sword, and dealt his eyes With caution round him, to prevent surprise; Then summon'd all the forces of his mind, And ent'ring boldly cast his fears behind: Resolv'd to push his way, whate'er withstood, Or bravely perish as a monarch should.

While he the wonders of the place survey'd,
And through the various cells at random stray'd,
In a dark corner of the cave he view'd
Somewhat that in the shape of woman stood;
But more deform'd, than dreams can represent
The midnight hag, or poet's fancy paint
The Lapland witch, when she her broom be-
strides,

And scatters storms and tempests as she rides.
She look'd as nature made her to disgrace
Her kind, and cast a blot on all the race;
Her shrivel'd skin with yellow spots besmear'd
Like mouldy records seem'd, her eyes were
blear'd;

Her feeble limbs with age and palsy shook,
Bent was her body, haggard was her look.
From the dark nook outcrept the filthy crone,
And propt upon her crutch, came tott'ring on.
The prince in civil guise approach'd the
dame,

Told her his piteous case, and whence he came,
And till Aurora should the shades expel,
Implor'd a lodging in her friendly cell.
Mortal, whoe'er thou art, the fiend began,
And as she spake a deadly horror ran
Thro' all his frame; his cheeks the blood for-
sook,

Chatter'd his teeth, his knees together shook:
Whoe'er thou art, that with presumption rude
Dar'st on our sacred privacy intrude,
And without licence in our court appear,
Know, thou'rt the first that ever enter'd here.
But since thou plead'st excuse, thou'rt hither
brought

More by thy fortune than thy own default;

Thy crime, tho' great, an easy pardon finds,
For mercy ever dwells in royal minds.
And would you learn from whose indulgent
hand

You live, and in whose awful presence stand;
Know farther, thro' yon wide extended plains,
Great Eolus, the king of tempests, reigns,
And in this lofty palace makes abode,
Well suited to his state, and worthy of the god.
The various elements his empire own,
And pay their humble homage at his throne;
And hither all the storms and clouds resort,
Proud to increase the splendor of his court.
His queen am I, from whom the beauteous race
Of Winds arose, sweet fruit of our embrace!
She scarce had ended, when with wild uproar,
And horrid din, her sons impetuous pour
Around the cave; came rushing in amain,
Lybs, Eurus, Boreas, all the boist'rous train;
And close behind them on a whirlwind rode
In clouded majesty the blust'ring god.
Their locks a thousand ways were blown about,
Their cheeks, like full-blown bladders, strutted
[done,

out;

Their boasting talk was of the feats th' had Of trees uprooted, and of towns o'erthrown; And when they kindly turn'd them to accost The prince, they almost pierc'd him with their frost.

The gaping hag in fix'd attention stood, And at the close of every tale cried-Good! Blessing, with outstretch'd arms, each darling

son,

In due proportion to the mischief done.
And where, says she, does little Zephyr stray?
Know ye, my sons, your brother's route to day
In what bold deeds does he his hours employ?
Grant heaven no evil has befall'n my boy;
Ne'er was he known to linger thus before.
Scarce had she spoke, when at the cavern door
Came lightly tripping, in a form more fair
Than the young poet's fond ideas are,
When, fir'd with love, he tries his utmost art
To paint the beauteous tyrant of his heart.
A satin vest his slender shape confin'd,
Embroider'd o'er with flowers of every kind,
Flora's own work, when first the goddess

strove

To win the little wanderer to her love.
Of burnish'd silver were his sandals made,
Silver his buskins, and with gems o'erlaid;
A saffron-color'd robe behind him flow'd,
And added grace and grandeur as he trod,
His wings than lilies whiter to behold,
Sprinkled with azure spots, and streak'd with
gold;

So thin their form, and of so light a kind,
That they for ever danc'd, and flutter'd in the
wind.

Around his temples, with becoming air,
In wanton ringlets curl'd his auburn hair,
And o'er his shoulders negligently spread,
A wreath of fragrant roses crown'd his head.

Such his attire, but O! no pen can trace, No words can show the beauties of his face; So kind! so winning! so divinely fair, Eternal youth and pleasure flourish there;

There all the little loves and graces meet, And every thing that's soft, and every thing that's sweet.

Thou vagrant, cried the dame, in angry tone, Where couldst thou loiter thus, so long alone? Little thou car'st what anxious thoughts molest, What pangs are laboring in a mother's breast; Well do you show your duty by your haste, For thou of all my sons art always last.

A child less fondled would have fled more fast. Sure 'tis a curse on mothers, doom'd to mourn, Where best they love, the least and worst

return.

My dear mamma, the gentle youth reply'd,
And made a low obeisance, cease to chide;
Nor wound me with your words, for well you
know

Your Zephyr bears a part in all your woe.
How great must be his sorrow then to learn
That he himself's the cause of your concern!
Nor had I loiter'd thus, had I been free,
But the fair Princess of Felicity
Entreated me to make some short delay,
And ask'd by her, could I refuse to stay?
Surrounded by the damsels of her court,
She sought the shady grove, her lov'd resort;
Fresh rose the grass, the flowers were mix'd

between

grown,

On a cool mossy couch she laid her down;
Her air, her posture, all conspir'd to please,
Her head upon her snowy arm at ease
Reclin'd, a studied carelessness express'd;
Loose lay her robe, and naked heav'd her
breast.

Eager I flew to that delightful place,
And pour'd a shower of kisses on her face;
Now hover'd o'er her neck, her breast, her arms,
Like bees o'er flowers, and tasted all their
charms:

And then her lips, and then her cheeks I tried, And fann'd, and wanton'd round on ev'ry side.

O Zephyr! cried the fair, thou charming boy,
Thy presence only can create me joy;
To me thou art beyond expression dear,
Nor can I quit the place while thou art

here.

Excuse my weakness, madam, when I swear Such gentle words, join'd with so soft an air, Pronounc'd so sweetly from a mouth to fair, Quite ravish'd all my sense, nor did I know How long I stay'd, or when, or where to go. Meanwhile the damsels, debonair and gay, Prattled around, and laugh'd the time away: These in soft notes address'd the ravish'd ear, And warbled out so sweet,'twas heaven to hear; And those in rings, beneath the green-wood shade,

Dane'd to the melody their fellows made;

O gentle youth, he cried, proceed to tell
In what fair country does this princess dwell;
What regions unexplor'd, what hidden coast,
Can so much goodness, so much beauty boast?
To whom the winged god, with gracious look,
Numberless sweets diffusing while he spoke,
Thus answer'd kind: These happy gardens lie
Far hence remov'd, beneath a milder sky;
Their name-the Kingdom of Felicity.
Sweet scenes of endless bliss, enchanted ground,
A soil for ever sought, but seldom found;
Though in the search all human kind in vain
Weary their wits, and waste their lives in pain;
In different parties, different paths they tread,
As reason guides them, or as follies lead; [see,
These wrangling for the place they ne'er shall
Debating those, if such a place there be;
But not the wisest or the best can say
Where lies the point, or mark the certain way.

Some few, by Fortune favor'd, for her sport,
Have sail'd in sight of this delightful port;
In thought already seiz'd the bless'd abodes,
And in their fond delirium rank'd with gods.
Fruitless attempt! all avenues are kept
By dreadful foes, sentry that never slept.
Here fell Detraction darts her pois'nous breath,
Fraught with a thousand stings, and scatters
death;

Short-sighted Envy there maintains her post, And shakes her flaming brand, and stalks around the coast;

These on the helpless crowd their fury pour, Plunge in the waves, or dash against the shore, Teach wretched mortals they were doom'd to

Say, would you choose to visit this retreat, And view the world where all these wonders meet?

Wish you some friend o'er the tempestuous sea
To bear you safe? behold that friend in me.
My active wings shall all their force employ,
And nimbly waft you to the realms of joy,
As once, to gratify the god of love,

I bore fair Psyche to the Cyprian grove;

There in Peruvian vales a moment staid, And smooth'd his wings beneath the citron shade.

Then swift his oary pinions plied again, Cross'd the new world, and sought the southern main;

Where many a wet and weary league o'erpast, The wish-for paradise appear'd at last.

With force abated, now they gently sweep O'er the smooth surface of the shining deep; The Dryads hail'd them from the distant shore, The Nereids play'd around, the Tritons swam before;

While soft Favonius their arrival greets,
And breathes his welcome in a thousand sweets.
Nor pale Disease, nor health-consuming Care,
Nor Wrath, nor foul Revenge, can enter there:
No vapor's foggy gloom imbrowns the sky,
No tempests rage, no angry lightnings fly;
But dews and soft refreshing airs are found,
And pure etherial azure shines around.
Whate'er the sweet Sabæan Isle can boast,
Or Mecca's plains, or India's spicy coast;
What Hybla hills, or rich balia's fields,
Or flow'ry vale of fam'd Hymettus yields;
Or what of old th' Hesperian orchard grac'd,
All that was e'er delicious to the taste,
Sweet to the smell, or lovely to the view,
Collected there, with added beauty grew.
High-tow'ring to the heavens, the trees are seen,
Their bulk immense, their leaf for ever green;
So closely interwove, the tell-tale sun

Can ne'er descry the deeds beneath them done,
But where by fits the sportive gales divide
Their tender tops, and fan the leaves aside.
Like a smooth carpet at their feet lies spread
The matted grass, by bubbling fountains fed;
And on each bough the feather'd choir employ
Their melting notes, and nought is heard but
joy.

The painted flow'rs exhale a rich perfume,
The fruits are mingled with eternal bloom;
And Spring and Autumn hand in hand appear,
Lead on the merry months, and join to clothe
the year.
[pour'd,
Here, o'er the mountain's shaggy summits
From rock to rock the tumbling torrent roar'd;
While beauteous Iris, in the vale below,
Paints on the rising fumes her radiant bow:
Now thro' the meads the mazy current stray'd,
Now hid its wand'rings in the myrtle shade;
Or in a thousand veins divides its store,
Visits each plant, refreshes every flow'r;
O'er gems and golden sands in murmurs flows,
And sweetly soothes the soul, and lulls to soft
repose.

If hunger call, no sooner can the mind
Express her will to needful food inclin'd,
But in some cool recess, or op'ning glade,
The seats are plac'd, the tables neatly laid,
And instantly convey'd by magic hand,
In comely rows the costly dishes stand;
Meats of all kinds that nature can impart,
Prepar'd in all the nicest forms of art.
A troop of sprightly nymphs array'd in green,
With How'ry chaplets crown'd, come scudding

in.

With fragrant blossoms these adorn the breast
Those with officious zeal attend the guest;
Beneath his feet the silken carpet spread,
Or sprinkle liquid odors o'er his head.
Others in ruby cups, with roses bound
Delightful! deal the sparkling nectar round;
Or weave the dance, or tune the vocal lay;
The lyres resound, the merry minstrels play:
Gay health, and youthful joys o'erspread the
place,
[face.
And swell each heart, and triumph in each
So when embolden'd by the vernal air,
The busy bees to blooming fields repair;
For various use employ their chymic pow'r;
One culls the snowy pounce, one sucks the
flow'r :

Again to diff'rent works returning home,
Some steeve the honey, some erect the comb;}
All for the general good in concert strive,
And every soul's in motion, every limb's alive.

And now descending from his flight, the god
On the green turf releas'd his precious load;
There, after mutual salutations past,
And endless friendship vow'd, they part in
haste;

Zephyr impatient to behold his love, [grove,
The prince in raptures wand'ring through the
Now skipping on, and singing as he went,
Now stopping short, to give his transports vent,
With sudden gusts of happiness oppress'd,
Or stands intranc'd, or raves like one possess'd;
His mind afloat, his wand'ring senses quite
O'ercome with charms, and frantic with de-
light;

From scene to scene by random steps convey'd, Admires the distant views, explores the secret shade,

Dwells on each spot, with eager eye devours The woods, the lawns, the buildings, and the bow'rs;

New sweets, new joys at ev'ry glance arise,
And every turn creates a fresh surprise.
Close by the borders of a rising wood,
In a green vale a crystal grotto stood,
And o'er its sides, beneath a beechen shade,
In broken falls a silver fountain play'd.
Hither, attracted by the murmuring stream,
And cool recess, the pleas'd Porsenna came,
And on the tender grass reclining chose
To wave his joys a while, and take a short re-
pose.

The scene invites him, and the wanton breeze
That whispers thro' the vale, the dancing trees,
The warbling birds, and rills that gently creep,
All join their music to prolong his sleep.

The princess to her morning walk prepar'd; The female troops attend, a beauteous guard. Array'd in all her charms appear'd the fair; Tall was her stature, unconfin'd her air; Proportion deck'd her limbs, and in her face Lay love enshrin'd, lay sweet attractive grace, Temp'ring the awful beams her eyes convey'd And like a lambent flame around her play'd. No foreign aids, by mortal ladies worn, From shells and rocks her artless charms adorn

For grant that beauty were by gems increas'd, "Tis render'd more suspected at the least;