The florets, opening, from their young cups dart Thy breath in living balms! And not a ryegrass trembles, but it gives Mild shadowy power! whilst now thy tresses, bathed In primrose tints, the snowdrop's coldness shed On skyblue hyacinths, Thy chaste and simple wreath; While flows to Zephyr thy transparent robe, Amid the rosy lawn! Yes! if thou mix the saffron hues that stream Or if thou love, along the lucent sod, Fleet as the shadow from the breded heaven 6 There, as its ambient arch with airy sweep Chequers the ground, thine eyes of dewy light' Pursue the turf that floats In many a tremulous wave. And now, retreating to the breezy marge To tinge its crystal tide: Or gently on thine alabaster urn Thy head reclines, beneath some aged beech Steeps its long-wreathed roots. While from the cave where first thine essence sprung, [spars, Where the chaste Naiads ranged their glittering Rills, trickling through the moss, Purl o'er the pebbled floor. There sleep till eve; as now the tyrant heat Kindles, with rapid strides, the' extensive lawn, And e'en thy favourite haunt, The verdurous oak, invades. And may no vapours from that osier'd bank The sallow's stagnant shade. There sleep till eve; unless the spring-loved showers, Pattering among the foliage, bid thee rise To taste those transient blooms That with the rainbow live. VOL. III. Q There sleep till eve; when as thy parent Air Joy'd shalt thou hail the watery-tinted cloud, The whole horizon stains; Till through the fragrance of his sweetbriar leaves Thy glowworm flings a solitary ray, As peace descends, to hush The twilight-bosom'd scene! POLWHELE. VICISSITUDE. -RAPT in thought that bids thee rise In all thy forms before mine eyes, I glow with joy to see thee come In rosy health and youthful bloom: And now cold horror trembles o'er my soul, When thou, in blank uncertainty array'd, With iron-hearted deaf control Throw'st all around thy awful dubious shade. Oh, give my song, mysterious power, The joys and terrors of thy sway to tell, Thy sway o'er universal nature spread, The sweetest hope of man, and darkest dread! Behold, where shivering in the rattling hail, While drizzling black clouds o'er him lour, Bent o'er his staff, with livid visage fell, Dull Winter stays his creeping step to pause, On April's meads. Beckoning on flowery May, Glistening with dew the green-hair'd Spring To veteran Autumn: yellow glows For him the full-orb'd moon with orange rays With hoary bearded cheek and front severe, And soon his snowy mantle wide he throws As listless to disturb the deep repose, The long-contented evening sweet he cheers; These are thy grateful changes, mighty power, And Spring, with primrose garland crown'd, |