But, Fancy, downward urge thy flight.
On fome mountain's towering height;
With hoary frofts eternal crown'd,
Rapt with dufky vapours round,
Let me fix my ftedfast feet.
I feel, I feel the fanning gales;
The wat'ry mists beneath retreat.
The noontide ray now darts its heat,
And pours its glories o'er the vales.
Glittering to the dancing beams,
Urging their stubborn way the rocks among,
I hear, and fee a thousand streams
Foam, and roar, and rush along.
But to the plains defcended,
Their fudden rage is ended.
Now loft in deep recefs of darkfome bowers,
Again now sparkling through the meads
Vefted foft with vernal flowers,
Reflecting the majestic towers,
Its peaceful flood the roving channel leads.
There the rural cots are feen,
From whose low roof the curling fmoke afcends,
And dims with blueish volumes all the green.
There fome foreft far extends
Its groves embrown'd with lengthen'd fhade;
Embofom'd where fome Gothic feat,
Of monarchs once retreat;
In wild magnificence array'd,
The pride of anicent times presents,
And lifts, in contrast fair display'd,
Its fun-reflecting battlements.
Near, fome imperial city seems to reign,
Triumphant o'er the fubject land;
With domes of art Vitruvian crown'd.
See gleam her gilded fpires around,
Her gates in awful grandeur ftand.
Equal to fhine in peace or war fuftain,
Her mighty bulwarks threat the plain
With many a work of death, and armed mound. Where rolls her wealthy river deep and wide,
of crowded masts arise;
Their ftreamers waving to the skies.
The banks are white with fwelling fails,
And diftant veffels ftem the tide
Circling through pendant cliffs, and watery dales.
The ruffet hills, the valleys green beneath,
The fallows brown, and dufky heath,
The yellow corn, empurpled vine,
In union foft their tints combine,
And, Fancy, all engage thine eye
With a fweet variety.
While clouds the fleeting clouds pursue,
In mutual fhade, and mutual light,
The changing landscape meets the fight;
'Till the ken no more can view;
And heaven appears to meet the ground; The rifing lands, and azure distance drown'd Amid the gay horizon's golden bound.
Such are the fcenes that oft' invite
To feed thee, Fancy, with delight.
All that nature can create,
Beauteous, awful, new and great,
Sweet enthusiast, is thy treasure,
Source of wonder, and of pleasure ;
Every sense to transport winning,
Still unbounded and beginning.
Then, Fancy, fpread thy wings again;
Unlock the caverns of the main.
Above, beneath, and all around:
Let the tumbling billows spread;
'Till the coral floor we tread,
Exploring all the wealth that decks the realms profound;
There, gather gems that long have glow'd
In the vast, unknown abode,
The jafper vein'd, the faphire blue,
The ruby bright with crimson hue,
Whate'er the bed refplendent paves,
Or decks the glittering roofs on high,
Through whofe translucent arch are feen the rolling waves.
Fancy, these shall clasp thy veft,
With these thy lovely brows be dreft,
In every gay, and various dye.
But hark!the feas begin to roar,
The whiffling winds affault my ear,
The low'ring ftorms around appear-
Fancy, bear me to the shore.
There in thy realms, bright goddefs, deign,
Secure to fix thy votary's feet:
O give to follow oft' thy train;
Still with accuftom'd lay thy power to greet;
To dwell with Peace, and fport with thee,
Fancy, ever fair and free.
On the Death of a Lady's Owl.
HE Owl expires! death gave the dreadful word,
And lovely Anna weeps her fav'rite bird.
Ye feather'd choir in willing throngs repair
And footh the forrows of the melting fair;
In founds of woe the dear-departed greet,
With cyprefs ftrew, ye doves, the green retreat;
The fateful raven tolls the paffing bell,
The folemn dirge be fung by Philomel;
Sir Chanticlear, a chief of hardy race,
Shall guard from kites and daws, the facred place.
With your just tears a bard fhall mix his own,
And thus, in artless verfe, infcribe the stone.
Nterr'd within this little space
The bird of wisdom lies;
Learn hence, how vain is ev'ry grace,
How fruitless to be wife.
Can mortal ftop the arm of Death
Who ne'er compaffion knew?
He* Venus' lover robb'd of breath,
He, Anna's darling flew.
Ah happy bird, to raise those fighs
Which man could ne'er obtain !
Ah happy bird, to cloud those eyes
That fir'd each kneeling fwain!
Thrice blefs'd thy life, her joy, her blifs,
Thrice blefs'd thy happy doom;
She gave thee many a melting kiss,
She wept upon thy tomb.
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