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Perchance, on some unpeopled strand
Doom'd from each native joy to part,
O most adored of earth or skies !
The rose-lipp'd Loves that, round their queen,
Idalian flowers their sweets diffuse,
fair Hope, if once again,
But ah! too early lost!-then go,
Sun of the soul! whose cheerful ray
Darts o'er this gloom of life a smile ;
Yet light my weary steps a while,
SWEET daughter of a rough and stormy sire, Hoar Winter's blooming child, delightful Spring!
Whose unshorn locks with leaves
And swelling buds are crown'd; From the green islands of eternal youth [shade), (Crown'd with fresh blooms, and ever springin
Turn, hither turn thy step,
O thou, whose powerful voice More sweet than softest touch of Doric reed, Or Lydian flute, can soothe the madding winds,
And through the stormy deep
Breathe thy own tender calm,
Thy blooming wilds among,
And vales and dewy lawns, With untired feet; and cull thy earliest sweets To weave fresh garlands for the glowing brow
Of him the favour'd youth
That prompts their whisper'd sigh. Unlock thy copious stores; those tender showers That drop their sweetness on the infant buds,
And silent dews that swell
The milky ear's green stem,
Now let me sit beneath the whitening thorn,
And watch with patient eye
Thy fair unfolding charms.
Throws his young maiden beams,
And with chaste kisses woos
Protects thy modest blooms
From his severer blaze.
Thy greens, thy flowerets all
Remorseless shall destroy.
Nor Summer's ruddiest fruits
Can aught for thee atone,
Each joy and new born hope
Nor vernal sight nor song
Go, with thy loathed band,
Whose strength the sun defies :
[land. While storms and hail and wind for ever fill the
But come, soft Spring! no more delay To bless us with thy genial sway! Thy beams have yet but faintly shone, By storms and darkness soon o'erblown; No fostering warmth they yet have shed To wake the verdure of the mead; To ope the primrose' wild perfume, Or rear to life the violet's bloom. Then come, sweet nymph, with fixed pace! The tyrant shall with fearful face Behold far off thy steady beams, And haste away his ragged teams. O, come, thou queen of gay delights, Though late, to bless our longing sights! Flowers shall spring up beneath thy way, And earth and air and seas be gay. Adown the mountain's woody side The tumbling torrent shall subside; And the whistling wind no more Through the castle's turrets roar; But rills shall lulling music keep, And spires and battlements shall peep With glittering hue amid the shade; While shepherds' pipes shall from the glade Echo sweet; and virgins gay, With fresh-bloom'd cheeks, to hear them play, Shall issue from the castle's bounds, And dance to thee their merry rounds.