Soft from the circlet of her star,
The tender turtles draw the car
Of Venus and of Love.
The growing charm invites the eye;
See morning gradual paint the sky
With purple and with gold!
See spring approach with sweet delay!
See rose-buds open to the ray,
And leaf by leaf unfold!
We love the alluring line of grace
That leads the eye a wanton chase,
And lets the fancy rove;
The walk of beauty ever bends,
And still begins, but never ends
The labyrinth of love.
At times, to veil is to reveal,
And to display is to conceal;
Mysterious are your laws!
The vision finer than the view;
Her landscape nature never drew
So fair as fancy draws.
A beauty, carelessly betray'd,
Enamours more, than if display'd
All woman's charms were given; And, o'er the bosom's vestal white, The gauze appears a robe of light, That veils, yet opens heaven.
See virgin Eve, with graces bland
Fresh blooming from her Maker's hand,
In orient beauty beam!
Fair on the river-margin laid,
She knew not that her image made
The angel in the stream.
Still ancient Eden blooms your own; But artless innocence alone
Secures the heavenly post;
For if, beneath an angel's mien,
The serpent's tortuous train is seen,
Our paradise is lost.
O Nature, Nature, thine the charm!
Thy colours woo, thy features warm,
Thy accents win the heart!
Parisian paint of every kind
That stains the body or the mind,
Proclaims the harlot's art.
The midnight minstrel of the grove,
Who still renews the hymn of love,
And woos the wood to hear;
Knows not the sweetness of his strain,
Nor that, above the tuneful train,
He charms the lover's ear.
The zone of Venus, heavenly fine,
Is nature's handiwork divine,
And not the web of art;
And they who wear it never know
To what enchanting charm they owe
The empire of the heart.
OSSIAN'S HYMN TO THE sun.
O THOU whose beams the sea-girt earth array,
King of the sky, and father of the day!
O sun! what fountain, hid from human eyes,
Supplies thy circle round the radiant skies,
For ever burning, and for ever bright,
With Heaven's pure fire, and everlasting light?
What awful beauty in thy face appears!
Immortal youth, beyond the power of years!
When gloomy darkness to thy reign resigns,
And from the gates of morn thy glory shines,
The conscious stars are put to sudden flight,
And all the planets hide their heads in night;
The queen of Heaven forsakes the ethereal plain,
To sink inglorious in the western main.
The clouds refulgent deck thy golden throne,
High in the heavens, immortal and alone!
Who can abide the brightness of thy face!
Or who attend thee in thy rapid race!
The mountain oaks like their own leaves decay;
Themselves the mountains wear with age away;
The boundless main that rolls from land to land,
Lessens at times, and leaves a waste of sand;
The silver moon, refulgent lamp of night,
Is lost in heaven, and emptied of her light;—
But thou for ever shalt endure the same,
Thy light eternal, and unspent thy flame.
When tempests with their train impend on high, Darken the day, and load the labouring sky; When heaven's wide convex glows with lightnings
All ether flaming, and all earth on fire;
When loud and long the deep-mouth'd thunder
And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles ;-
If from the opening clouds thy form appears,
Her wonted charm the face of nature wears;
Thy beauteous orb restores departed day,
Looks from the sky, and laughs the storm away.
No longer hoary winter reigns,
No longer binds the streams in chains,
Or heaps with snow the meads;
Array'd with robe of rainbow-dye,
At last the spring appears on high,
And, smiling over earth and sky,
Her new creation leads.
The snows confess a warmer ray,
The loosen'd streamlet loves to stray
And echo down the dale;
The hills uplift their summits green,
The vales more verdant spread between,
The cuckoo in the wood unseen
Coos ceaseless to the gale.
The rainbow arching woos the eye,
With all the colours of the sky,
With all the pride of spring:
Now heaven descends in sunny showers,
The sudden fields put on the flowers,
The green leaves wave upon the bowers,
And birds begin to sing.
The cattle wander in the wood,
And find the wanton verdant food,
Beside the well-known rills;
Blithe in the sun the shepherd swain,
Like Pan, attunes the pastoral strain,
While many echoes send again
The music of the hills.
At eve, the primrose path along,
The milkmaid shortens with a song
Her solitary way;
She sees the fairies, with their queen,
Trip hand in hand the circled green,
And hears them raise at times, unseen,
The ear-enchanting lay.
Maria, come! Now let us rove,
Now gather garlands in the grove,
Of every new-sprung flower;
We'll hear the warblings of the wood,
We'll trace the windings of the flood;
O come, thou fairer than the bud
Unfolding in a shower!
Fair as the lily of the vale,
That gives its bosom to the gale
And opens in the sun;
And sweeter than thy favourite dove, The Venus of the vernal grove, Announcing to the choirs of love Their time of bliss begun.
Now, now thy spring of life appears, Fair in the morning of thy years, And May of beauty crown'd: Now vernal visions meet thine eyes, Poetic dreams to fancy rise,
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