Awhile to rule the vacant sky,
Till fhe fhall to her lamp fupply
A ftream of brighter rays.

II.

O Hefper, while the ftarry throng
With awe thy path furrounds,
Oh listen to my fuppliant fong,
If haply now the vocal sphere
Can fuffer thy delighted ear
To stoop to mortal sounds.

III.

So may the bridegroom's genial ftrain

Thee ftill invoke to shine:

So may the bride's unmarried train

To Hymen chaunt their flattering vow,
Still that his lucky torch may glow

With luftre pure as thine.

IV.

Far other vows muft i prefer
To thy indulgent power.
Alafs, but now i paid my tear
On fair Olympia's virgin tomb:

And lo, from thence, in quest i roam

Of Philomela's bower.

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10

15

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V.

Propitious fend thy golden ray,
Thou pureft light above:
Let no false flame feduce to ftray
Where gulph or fteep lie hid for harm:
But lead where mufic's healing charm

May footh afflicted love.

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VI,

To them, by many a grateful fong

In happier seasons vow'd,

These lawns, Olympia's haunt, belong:

Oft by yon filver stream we walk'd,

Or fix'd, while Philomela talk'd,

Beneath yon copses stood.

VII.

Nor feldom, where the beechen' boughs
That rooflefs tower invade,

We came while her inchanting Muse
The radiant moon above us held:
Till by a clamorous owl compell'd

She fled the folemn fhade.

VIII.

But hark; i hear her liquid tone.

Now, Hefper, guide my feet

Down the red marle with mofs o'ergrown,

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Through yon wild thicket next the plain,
Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane
Which leads to her retreat.

IX.

See the green space: on either hand
Inlarg'd it spreads around :

See, in the midst she takes her stand,
Where one old oak his awful shade
Extends o'er half the level mead

Inclos'd in woods profound.

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X.

Hark, how through many a melting note

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She now prolongs her lays :

How sweetly down the void they float!

The breeze their magic path attends:

The stars fhine out: the foreft bends:

The wakeful heifers

gaze.

XI.

Whoe'er thou art whom chance may bring

To this fequefter'd spot,

If then the plaintive Syren fing,

Oh foftly tread beneath her bower,

And think of heaven's difpofing power,

Of man's uncertain lot.

XII.

Oh think, o'er all this mortal stage,
What mournful scenes arife:

What ruin waits on kingly rage:

How often virtue dwells with woe:

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WHOE'ER thou art whofe path in fummer lies Through yonder village, turn thee where the grove Cf branching oaks a rural palace old

Imbofoms. there dwells Albert, generous lord

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Of all the harvest round. and onward thence
A low plain chapel fronts the morning light
Faft by a filent riv'let. Humbly walk,
O, ftranger, o'er the confecrated ground;
And on that verdant hilloc, which thou fee'ft
Befet with ofiers, let thy pious hand
Sprinkle fresh water from the brook and ftrew
Sweet-fmelling flowers. for there doth Edmund reft,
The learned fhepherd; for each rural art
Fam'd, and for fongs harmonious, and the woes
Of ill-requited love. The faithlefs pride
Of fair Matilda fank him to the grave

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In manhood's prime. But foon did righteous heaven
With tears, with tharp remorse, and pining care,
Avenge her falfhood. nor could all the gold
And nuptial pomp, which lur'd her plighted faith 20
From Edmund to a loftier husband's home,
Relieve her breaking heart, or turn aside
The ftrokes of death. Go, traveller; relate
The mournful story. haply some fair maid
May hold it in remembrance, and be taught 25
That riches cannot pay for truth or love.

Me tho' in life's fequefter'd vale

The Almighty fire ordain'd to dwell,