Farewell, dear youth!-how will our bosoms burn Fo the sweet moment of our blest return!'

The king, who wept, yet knew his tears were vain, Took the seven keys, and kiss'd the parting train. A glittering car, which bounding coursers drew, They mounted strait, and through the forest flew.

The youth, unknowing how to pass the day, Review'd the bowers, and heard the fountains play; By hands unseen whate'er he wish'd was brought: And pleasures rose obedient to his thought. Yet all the sweets, that ravish'd him before, Were tedious, now, and charm'd his soul no more: Less lovely still, and still less gay they grew; He sigh'd, he wish'd, and long'd for something new: Back to the hall he turn'd his weary feet,

And sat repining on his royal seat.

Now, on the seventh bright gate he casts his eyes;
And in his bosom rose a bold surmise;

The nymph,' said he, was sure dispos'd to jest,
Who talk'd of dungeons in a place so blest:
What harm to open, if it be a cell
Where deathful spirits and magicians dwell?
If dark or foul, I need not pass the door;
If new or strange, my soul desires no more.'

He said, and rose; then took the golden keys,
And op'd the door: the hinges mov'd with ease.

Before his eyes appear'd a sullen gloom,
Thick, hideous, wild; a cavern, or a tomb.
Yet, as he longer gaz'd, he saw afar

A light that sparkled like a shooting star.
He paus'd: at last, by some kind angel led,
He enter❜d; and advanc'd, with cautious tread.
Still, as he walk'd, the light appear'd more clear;
Hope sooth'd him, then, and scarcely left a fear.
At length an aged sire* surpris'd he saw,
Who fill'd his bosom with a sacred awe :

A book he held, which, as reclin'd he lay,
He read, assisted by a taper's ray;

His beard, more white than snow on winter's breast,
Hung to the zone that bound his sable vest?
A pleasing calmness on his brow was seen,
Mild was his look, majestic was his mien.
Soon as the youth approach'd the reverend sage,
He rais'd his head, and clos'd the serious page;
Then spoke: O son! what chance has turn'd thy feet
To this dull solitude, and lone retreat ?'

To whom the youth: First, holy father! tell,
What force detains thee in this gloomy cell?

* Religion.

This isle, this palace, and those balmy bowers,
Where six sweet fountains fall on living flowers,
Are mine; a train of damsels chose me king,
And through my kingdom smiles perpetual spring.
For some important cause, to me unknown,

This day they left me joyless and alone;

But, ere three morns with roses strow the skies,
My lovely brides will charm my longing eyes.'

Youth,' said the sire, on this auspicious day
Some angel hither led thy erring way:

Hear a strange tale, and tremble at the snare,
Which for thy steps thy pleasing foes prepare.
Know, in this isle prevails a bloody law;

List, stripling, list! (the youth stood fix'd with awe :)
But seventy days* the hapless monarchs reign,
Then close their lives in exile and in pain;
Doom'd in a deep and frightful cave to rove,
Where darkness hovers o'er the iron grove.
Yet know, thy prudence and thy timely care
May save thee, son! from this destructive snare.
Not far from this, a lovelier island † lies,
Too rich, too splendid, for unhallow'd eyes:
On that blest shore, a sweeter fountain flows
Than this vain clime, or this gay palace knows,

Which if thou taste, whate'er was sweet before
Will bitter seem, and steal thy soul no more.
But ere these happy waters thou canst reach,
Thy weary steps must pass yon rugged beach,
Where the dark sea* with angry billows raves,
And, fraught with monsters, curls his howling waves.
If to my words, obedient, thou attend,

Behold in me thy pilot and thy friend :

A bark I keep, supplied with plenteous store,
That now lies anchor'd on the rocky shore;
And, when of all thy regal toys bereft,
In the rude cave an exile thou art left,
Myself will find thee on the gloomy lea,
And waft thee safely o'er the dangerous sea.'

The boy was fill'd with wonder as he spake, And from a dream of folly seem'd to wake: All day the sage his tainted thoughts refin'd; His reason brighten'd, and reform'd his mind: Through the dim cavern hand in hand they walk'd, And much of truth, and much of heav'n, they talk'd. At night the stripling to the hall return'd; With other fires his alter'd bosom burn'd.

O! to his wiser soul how low, how mean,

Seem'd all he e'er had heard, had felt, had seen!

* Death.

He view'd the stars; he view'd the crystal skies;

And bless'd the POWER All-good, All-great, All-wise.
How lowly now appear'd the purple robe,

The rubied sceptre, and the ivory globe!
How dim the rays that gild the brittle earth!
How vile the brood of Folly, and of Mirth!

When the third morning, clad in mantle gray, Brought in her rosy car her seventieth day, A band of slaves, who rush'd with furious sound, In chains of steel the willing captive bound; From his young head the diadem they tore, And cast his pearly bracelets on the floor; They rent his robe that bore the rose's hue, And o'er his breast a hairy mantle threw ; Then drag'd him to the damp and dreary cave, Drench'd by the gloomy sea's surrounding wave. Meanwhile the voices of a numerous crowd Pierc'd the dun air, as thunder breaks a cloud : The nymphs another hapless youth had found, And then were leading o'er the guilty ground: They hail'd him king, (alas, how short his reign!) And with fresh chaplets strow'd the fatal plain.

The happy exile, monarch now no more, Was roving slowly o'er the lonely shore;