Embracing strains the mistress of his soul; 40 Nor less o'erjoy'd, with sympathetic truth, Each faithful maid expects the approaching youth. In distant souls congenial passions glow, And mutual feelings mutual bliss bestow: Such shadowy happiness their thoughts employ, Illusion all, and visionary joy! Thus time elapsed, while o'er the pathless tide Their ship through Grecian seas the pilots guide. Occasion call'd to touch at Candia's shore, Which, blest with favouring winds, they soon explore; The haven enter, borne before the gale, 50 Despatch their commerce, and prepare to sail. Eternal powers! what ruins from afar Mark the fell track of desolating war: Here arts and commerce with auspicious reign Once breathed sweet influence on the happy plain: While o'er the lawn, with dance and festive song, Young Pleasure led the jocund hours along: In gay luxuriance Ceres too was seen To crown the valleys with eternal green: 60 For wealth, for valour, courted and revered, What Albion is, fair Candia then appear'd. Ah! who the flight of ages can revoke? The free-born spirit of her sons is broke, They bow to Ottoman's imperious yoke. No longer fame their drooping heart inspires, For stern oppression quench'd its genial fires: Though still her fields, with golden harvests crown'd, Supply the barren shores of Greece around, Sharp penury afflicts these wretched isles, 70 There hope ne'er dawns, and pleasure never smiles: The vassal wretch contented drags his chain, And hears his famish'd babes lament in vain. These eyes have seen the dull reluctant soil A seventh year mock the weary labourer's toil. No blooming Venus, on the desert shore, Now views with triumph captive gods adore; No lovely Helens now with fatal charms Excite the avenging chiefs of Greece to arms; No fair Penelopes enchant the eye, 80 For whom contending kings were proud to die: Here sullen beauty sheds a twilight ray, While sorrow bids her vernal bloom decay: Those charms, so long renown'd in classic strains, Had dimly shone on Albion's happier plains! Now in the southern hemisphere the sun Through the bright Virgin, and the Scales, had run, And on the Ecliptic wheel'd his winding way, Till the fierce Scorpion felt his flaming ray. Four days becalm'd the vessel here remains, 90 And yet no hopes of aiding wind obtains; For sickening vapours lull the air to sleep, And not a breeze awakes the silent deep: This, when the autumnal equinox is o'er, And Phoebus in the north declines no more, The watchful mariner, whom Heaven informs,