Thus pass the temperate hours: but when the sun Shakes from his noonday throne the scattering clouds, Even shooting listless languor through the deeps, Then seek the bank where flowering elders crowd, Where scatter'd wild the lily of the vale Its balmy essence breathes, where cowslips hang The dewy head, where purple violets lurk, With all the lowly children of the shade; Or lie reclin'd beneath yon spreading ash Hung o'er the steep, whence borne on liquid wing The sounding culver shoots; or where the hawk High in the beetling cliff his eyry builds. There let the classic page thy fancy lead Through rural scenes, such as the Mantuan swain Paints in the matchless harmony of song; Or catch thyself the landscape, gliding swift Athwart imagination's vivid eye; Or, by the vocal woods and waters lull'd, And lost in lonely musing, in a dream, Confus'd, of careless solitude, where mix Ten thousand wandering images of things, Soothe every gust of passion into peace-- All but the swellings of the soften'd heart, That waken, not disturb, the tranquil mind. Behold, yon breathing prospect bids the muse Throw all her beauty forth. But who can paint Like Nature? Can imagination boast, Amid its gay creation, hues like hers? Or can it mix them with that matchless skill, And lose them in each other, as appears In every bud that blows? If fancy, then, Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task, Ah, what shall language do? ah, where find words Ting'd with so many colors; and whose power, To life approaching, may perfume my lays With that fine oil, those aromatic gales, That inexhaustive flow continual round? Yet, though successless, will the toil delight. Come then, ye virgins and ye youths whose hearts Have felt the raptures of refining love; And thou, Amanda, come, pride of my song! Form'd by the Graces, loveliness itself! Come with those downcast eyes, sedate and sweet, Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the soul-- Where, with the light of thoughtful reason mix'd. Shines lively fancy, and the feeling heart: Oh come! and while the rosy-footed May Steals blushing on, together let us tread The morning dews, and gather in their prime Fresh-blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair And thy lov'd bosom that improves their sweets. [Illustration: Together let us tread the morning dews] [Illustration: Gather fresh flowers to grace thy hair]