studious PROSFERO's mysterious spell
Eonven'd the subject-spirits to his cell;
Each, at thy call, advances or retires,
As judgment dictates, or the scene inspires.
Each thrills the seat of sense; that sacred source
Whence the fine nerves direct their mazy course,
And thro' the frame invifibly convey

The subtle, quick vibrations as they play.

Survey the globe, each ruder realm explore;
From Reason's faintest ray to NEWTON SO2r.
What different spheres to human bliss assign'd!
What slow gradations in the scale of mind!
Yet mark in each these mystic wonders wrought;
Oh mark the fleepless energies of thought!

Th' adventurous boy, that asks his little share, And hies from home, with many a goffip's prayer, Turns on the neighbouring hill, once more to see The dear abode of peace and privacy;

And as he turns, the thatch among the trees,

The smoke's blue wreaths ascending with the breeze,
The village-common spotted white with sheep,

The church-yard yews, round which his fathers fleep; (b))

All rouse Reflexion's sadly-pleafing train,

And oft he looks and weeps, and looks again,

So, when the mild TUPIA dar'd explore
Arts yet untaught, and works unknown before,
And, with the sons of Science, woo'd the gale
'That rising swell'd their strange expanse of sail;
So when he breath'd his firm yet fond adieu, (c),
Borne from his leafy hut, his carv'd canoe,

And all his soul best lov'd, such tears he shed,
While each soft scene of summer beauty fled :
Long o'er the wave a wistful look he cast,

Long watch'd the streaming signal from the mast;
Till twilight's dewy tints deceiv'd his eye,

And fairy forests fring'd the evening sky.

So Scotia's Queen, as slowly dawn'd the day, (d) Rose on her couch, and gaz'd her soul away. Her eyes had bless'd the beacon's glimmering height, That faintly tipt the feathery surge with light; But now the morn with orient hues pourtray'd Each castled cliff, and brown monastic shade : All touch'd the talisman's resistless spring, And lo, what busy tribes were instant on the wing!

Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire, (e) As summer-clouds flash forth electric fire.

And hence this spot gives back the joys of youth,
Warm as the life, and with the mirror's truth.

Hencehome felt pleasure prompts the Patriot's sigh ; (ƒ))

This makes him wish to live, and dare to die.
For this FOSCARI, whose relentless fate (g)
Venice should blush to hear the Muse rela te,,
When exile wore his blooming years away,
To sorrow's long soliloquies a prey,

When reason, justice, vainly urg'd his cause ; :
For this he rous'd her sanguinary laws;
Glad to return, tho' Hope could grant no more,
And chains and torture hail'd him to the shore.

And hence the charm historic scenes impart :
Hence Tiber awes, and Avon melts the heart.
Aerial forms, in Tempe's claffic vale,

Glance thro' the gloom, and whisper in the gale;
In wild Vaucluse with love and LAURA dwell,
And watch and weep in ELOISA's cell. (')
'Twas ever thus: As now at VIRGIL's tomb, (i)
We bless the shade, and bid the verdure bloom;
So TULLY paus'd, amid the wrecks of Time, (k)
On the rude stone to trace the truth sublime
When at his feet, in honour'd dust disclos'd,
Th' immortal Sage of Syracu e repos'd.
And as his youth in sweet delusion hurg,
Where once a PLATO taught, a PINDAR sung

Who now but meets him musing, when hè roves

His ruin'd Tusculan's romantic groves?

B3

In Rome's great forum, who but hears him roll
His moral thunders o'er the subject-soul?

And hence that calm delight the portrait gives : We gaze on every feature till it lives!

Still the fond lover views the absent maid ;
And the loft friend still lingers in his shade !
Say why the pensive widow loves to weep, (1)
When on her knee she rocks her babe to sleep :
Tremblingly still, she lifts his veil to trace

The father's features in his infant face.

The hoary grandsire smiles the hour away,
Won by the charm of Innocence at play;
He bends to meet each artless burst of joy,
Forgets his age, and acts again the boy.

What tho' the iron school of war erase Each milder virtue, and each softer grace; What tho' the fiend's torpedo-touch arrest Each gentler, finer impulse of the breast; Still shall this active principle perside, And wake the tear to Pity's self denied.

The intrepid Swiss, that guards a foreign shore, Condemn'd to climb his mountain-cliffs no more, If chance he hears the song so sweetly wild (m) Which on those cliffs his infant hours beguil'd,

Melts at the long lost scenes that round him rise.
And sinks a martyr to repentant sighs.

Ask not if courts or camps dissolve the charm; Say why VESPASIAN lov'd his Sabine farm; (n) Why great NAVARRE, when France and freedom. bled, (0)

Sought the lone limits of a forest-shed?

When DIOCLETIAN's self-corrected mind (p)
Th' imperial fasces of a world resign'd,

Say why we trace the labours of his spade,
In calm Salona's philosophic shade?

Say, when ambitious CHARLES renounc'd a throne, (q)

To muse with monks, unletter'd and unknown

What from his soul the parting parting tribute drew ?
What claim'd the sorrows of a last adieu ?

The still retreats that sooth'd his tranquil breast,
Ere grandeur dazzled, and its cares oppress'd.

Undamp'd by time the generous Instinct glows,
Far as Angola's sands, as Zembla's snows;
Glow's in the tiger's den, the serpent's nest,
On every form of varied life împrest.
The social tribes its choicest influence hail :-
And when the drum beats briskly in the gale,
The war-worn courser charges at the sound,

And with young vigour wheels the pasture round,