Still bade eternal Eden smile around.
Presaging instant fate her bosom heav'd
Unwonted sighs, and stealing oft a look
Of the big gloom, on Celadon her eye
Fell tearful, wetting her disorder'd cheek.
In vain assuring love, and confidence
In heav'n, repress'd her fear; it grew, and shook
Her frame near dissolution. He perceiv'd
Th' unequal conflict, and as angels look
On dying saints, his eyes compassion shed,
With love illumin'd high. "Fear not," he said,
"Sweet innocence! thou stranger to offence,
And inward storm! He, who yon skies involves
In frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee
With kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft
That wastes at midnight, or th' undreaded hour
Of noon, flies harmless: and that very voice,
Which thunders terror through the guilty heart,
With tongues of seraphs whispers peace to thine.
"Tis safety to be near thee sure, and thus
To clasp perfection!" From his void embrace,
Mysterious heav'n! that moment, to the ground,
A blacken'd corse, was struck the beauteous maid.
But who can paint the lover, as he stood, Pierc'd by severe amazement, hating life, Speechless, and fix'd in all the death of woe! So, faint resemblance! on the marble tomb, The well-dissembled mourner stooping stands, For ever silent, and for ever sad.
As from the face of heav'n the shatter'd clouds Tumultuous rove, th' interminable sky Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands A purer azure. Through the lighten❜d air A higher lustre and a clearer calm, Diffusive, tremble; while, as if in sign Of danger past, a glitt'ring robe of joy, Set off abundant by the yellow ray,
Invests the fields; and nature smiles reviv'd.
'Tis beauty all, and grateful song around, Join'd to the low of kine, and num'rous bleat Of flocks thick-nibbling through the clover'd vale. And shall the hymn be marr'd by thankless man, Most favour'd; who with voice articulate Should lead the chorus of this lower world? Shall he, so soon forgetful of the hand
That hush'd the thunder, and serenes the sky,
Extinguish'd feel that spark the tempest wak'd
That sense of pow'rs exceeding far his own,
Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears?
Cheer'd by the milder beam, the sprightly youth
Speeds to the well-known pool, whose crystal depth
A sandy bottom shews. A while he stands
Gazing th' inverted landscape, half afraid
To meditate the blue profound below;
Then plunges headlong down the circling flood.
His ebon tresses, and his rosy cheek
Instant emerge; and through th' obedient wave,
At each short breathing by his lip repell'd,
With arms and legs according well, he makes,
As humour leads, an easy-winding path;
While, from his polish'd sides, a dewy light
Effuses on the pleas'd spectators round.
This is the purest exercise of health,
The kind refresher of the summer-heats;
Nor, when cold Winter keens the bright'ning flood,
Would I weak-shiv'ring linger on the brink.
Thus life redoubles, and is oft preserv'd,
By the bold swimmer, in the swift illapse
Of accident disastrous. Hence the limbs
Knit into force; and the same Roman arm, That rose victorious o'er the conquer'd earth, First learn'd, while tender, to subdue the wave. E’en, from the body's purity, the mind Receives a secret sympathetic aid.
Close in the covert of an hazel copse,
Where winded into pleasing solitudes
Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat,
Pensive, and pierc'd with love's delightful pangs.
There to the stream that down the distant rocks
Hoarse-murm'ring fell, and plaintive breeze that
play'd
Among the bending willows, falsely he
Of Musidora's cruelty complain'd.
She felt his flame; but deep within her breast,
In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride,
The soft return conceal'd; save when it stole
In side-long glances from her downcast eye,
Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs.
Touch'd by the scene, no stranger to his vows,
He fram'd a melting lay, to try her heart;
And, if an infant passion struggled there,
To call that passion forth. Thrice happy swain!
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