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So thro' the vales of Loire the bee-hives glide.

An allufion to the floating bee-house, or barge laden with bee-hives, which Goldfmith fays he faw in fome parts of France and Piedmont.

Hift. of the Earth. viii. 87.

NOTE 18. Verse 228.

And, with the fwallow, wings the year away!

It was the boast of Lucullus that he changed his

climate with the birds of paffage.

Plut. in Vit. Lucull.

How often must he have felt the truth here incul

cated, that the master of many houses has no home!

THE SAILOR.

AN ELEGY.

THE Sailor fighs as finks his native shore,

As all its leffening turrets bluely fade;

He climbs the mast to feaft his eye once more,

And bufy Fancy fondly lends her aid.

Ah! now, each dear, domestic scene he knew, Recall'd and cherish'd in a foreign clime, Charms with the magic of a moonlight-view, Its colours mellow'd, not impair'd, by time.

True as the needle, homeward points his heart,

Thro' all the horrors of the stormy main ;

This, the last wish with which its warmth could

part,

To meet the smile of her he loves again.

When Morn first faintly draws her filver line,
Or Eve's grey cloud descends to drink the wave;
When fea and fky in midnight darkness join,

Still, ftill he views the parting look fhe gave.

Her gentle fpirit, lightly hovering o'er,
Attends his little bark from pole to pole;

And, when the heating billows round him roar,
Whispers sweet hope to footh his troubled foul.

Carv'd is her name in many a spicy grove,
In many a plantain-foreft, waving wide;
Where dusky youths in painted plumage rove,
And giant-palms o'er-arch the yellow tide.

But lo, at last he comes with crowded fail!

Lo, o'er the cliff what eager figures bend!

And hark, what mingled murmurs swell the gale!

In each he hears the welcome of a friend.

'Tis fhe, 'tis fhe herself! fhe waves her hand!

Soon is the anchor caft, the canvas furl'd;

Soon thro' the whitening furge he springs to land, And clafps the maid he fingled from the world.

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