The fpirits, when they gayeft fhine,
Youth, beauty, pleasure, all are thine!
O fun of life! whofe heav'nly ray
Lights up and cheers our various day,
The turbulence of hopes and fears,
The ftorm of fate, the cloud of years,
Till nature, with thy parting light,
Reposes late in DEATH's calm night:
Fled from the trophy'd roofs of state,
Abodes of fplendid pain and hate;
Fled from the couch, where, in fweet fleep,
Hot RIOT would his anguifh fleep,
But toffes through the midnight-shade,
Of death, of life, alike afraid;
For ever fled to fhady cell,
Where TEMP'RANCE, where the mufes dwell; Thou oft art feen, at early dawn,
Slow-pacing o'er the breezy lawn:
Or, on the brow of mountain high,
In filence-feafting ear and eye,
With fong and profpect, which abound
From birds, and woods, and waters round.
But when the SUN, with noon-tide ray,
Flames forth intolerable day;
While HEAT fits fervent on the plain,
With THIRST and LANGOUR in his train:
All nature fick'ning in the blaze :
Thou, in the wild and woody maze,
That clouds the vale with umbrage deep,
Impendent from the neighb'ring steep,
Wilt find betimes a calm retreat,
Where breathing COOLNESS has her feat.
There, plung'd amid the fhadows brown,
IMAGINATION lays him down;
Attentive, in his airy mood,
To ev'ry murmur of the wood :
The BEE in yonder flow'ry nook;
The chidings of the headlong brook;
The green-leaf fhiv'ring in the gale;
The warbling hill, the lowing vale;
The diftant WOODMAN'S echoing stroke;
The thunder of the falling oak.
From thought to thought in vifion led,
He holds high converfe with the dead;
Sages, or poets. See they rife!
And shadowy fkim before his eyes.
Hark! ORPHEUS ftrikes the lyre again,
That foftens favages to man:
Lo! SOCRATES, the fent of heav'n,
To whom its moral will was giv'n.
Fathers and friends of human-kind,
They form'd the nations, or refin'd;
With all that mends the head and heart,
Enlight'ning TRUTH, adorning ART.
While thus I mus'd beneath the shade,
At once the founding breeze was laid :
And NATURE, by the unknown law,
Shook deep with reverential awe.
Dumb SILENCE grew upon the hour;
A browner night involv'd the bow'r :
When iffuing from the inmost wood,
Appear'd fair FREEDOM's genius good.
O, FREEDOM! fov'reign boon of heav'n;
Great charter, with our being giv'n;
For which the PATRIOT and the SAGE,
Have plann'd, have bled, through ev'ry age!
High privilege of human-race,
Beyond a mortal-monarch's grace:
Who could not give, nor can reclaim,
What but from Gop immediate came?
SELIM; OR, THE SHEPHERD's MORAL. Scene, a Valley near Bagdat.-Time, Morning.
'YE PERSIAN maids, attend your poet's lays, "And hear how SHEPHERDS pass their "golden days,
"Not all are bleft whom fortune's hand fuftains "With wealth in courts, nor all that haunt the plains:
"Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell!
""TiS VIRTUE makes the blifs, where'er we dwell."
Thus SELIM fung, by facred TRUTH infpir'd;
Nor praife, but fuch as TRUTH bestow'd, defir'd:
Wife in himself, his meaning fongs convey'd,
Informing morals to the SHEPHERD MAID;
Or taught the fwains that surest blifs to find,
What groves nor ftreams bestow-a VIRTUOUS MIND.
When fweet and blushing, like a virgin bride,
The radiant morn refum'd her orient pride,
When wanton gales along the vallies play,
Breathe on each flow'r, and bear their sweets away:
By TIGRIS' wand'ring ways he fate, and fung
This useful leffon for the fair and young:
"Ye PERSIAN dames," he faid, " to you belong, "Well may they please, the morals of my fong: "No fairer maids, I truft, than you are found, "Grac'd with foft arts, the peopled world around! "The morn that lights you, to your loves fupplies "Each gentler ray, delicious to your eyes:
"For you thofe flow'rs her fragrant hands beftow, "And yours the love that kings delight to know. "Yet think not thefe, all beaut'ous as they are, "The best kind bleffings heav'n can grant the fair! "Who truft alone in beauty's feeble ray,
"Boaft but the worth BASSORA's pearls difplay! "Drawn from the deep, we own their furface bright, "But, dark within, they drink no luftrous light; "Such are the maids, and fuch the charms they boast; "By fenfe unaided, or to VIRTUE loft.
"Self-flatt'ring fex! your hearts believe, in vain, "That LOVE fhall blind, when once he fires the "fwain;
"Or, hope a lover by your faults to win,
"As fpots in ermin beautify the skin:
"Who feeks fecure to rule, be first her care
"Each fofter VIRTUE that adorns the fair;
"Each tender paffion man delights to find, "The lov'd perfections of a female mind!
"Bleft were the days, when wISDOM held her "reign,
"And SHEPHERDS fought her on the filent plain; "With TRUTH fhe wedded in the fecret grove; "Immortal TRUTH! and daughters bless'd their "love.
"O hafte, fair maids! ye virtues come away! "Sweet PEACE and PLENTY lead you on your way! "The balmy fhrub for you shall love our shore, By IND excell'd, or ARABY, no more.
"Loft to our fields, for fo the fates ordain,
"The dear deferters fhall return again.
"Come thou, whofe thoughts as limpid fprings are "clear,
"To lead the train, sweet MODESTY, appear: "Here make thy court amidst our rural fcene, "And SHEPHERD-GIRLS fhall own thee for their 66 queen.
"With thee be CHASTITY, of all afraid,
Diftrufting all, a wife fufpicious maid,
"But MAN the moft-not more the mountain DOE "Holds the fwift FALCON for her deadly foe. "Cold is her breast, like flow'rs that drink the dew, "A filken veil conceals her from the view; "No wild defires amidst thy train be known, "But FAITH, whofe heart is fix'd on one alone : Defponding MEEKNESS, with her down-caft eyes, "And friendly PITY, full of tender fighs;
"And LOVE the laft: by thefe your hearts approve, "Thefe are the VIRTUES that must lead to LOVE.'
Thus fung the fwain; and ancient legends fay, The maids of BAGDAT verified the lay: Dear to the plains, the VIRTUES came along; The SHEPHERDS lov'd, and SELIM blefs'd his fong.
ALAS! with fwift and filent pace,
Impatient time rolls on the year;
The feafons change, and nature's face
Now fweetly fmiles, now frowns fevere.
'Twas SPRING, 'twas SUMMER, all was gay,
Now AUTUMN bends a cloudy brow;
The flow'rs of Spring are fwept away,
And Summer fruits defert the bough.
The verdant leaves that play'd on high,
And wanton'd on the western breeze,
Now trod in duft neglected lie,
AS BOREAS ftrips the bending trees.
The fields that wav'd with golden grain,
As ruffet heaths, are wild and bare;
Not moist with dew, but drench'd in rain,
Nor HEALTH, nor PLEASURE, wanders there.
No more, while through the midnight-fhade,
Beneath the moon's pale orb I stray,
Such pleafing woes my heart invade,
AS PROGNE pours the melting lay.
From this capricious clime fhe foars,
O! would fome god but wings fupply!
To where each morn the SPRING reftores,
Companion of her flight I'd fly.
Vain wish! me fate compels to bear,
The downward feafons' iron reign;
Compels to breathe polluted air,
And fhiver on a blasted plain.
What blifs to life can AUTUMN yield,
If glooms, and fhow'rs, and ftorms prevail;
And CERES flies the naked field,
And flow'rs, and fruits, and PHOBUS fail?
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