Scarce had he spoken, when the bird of day 'Gan morn's approach with clarion shrill declare, At once th' unbodied phantoms fade away, The fond illusion all dissolves in air. ODE ON THE APPROACH OF SUMMER. BY A GENTLEMAN FORMERLY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN. _Te dea, te fugiunt venti, te nubila coeli, Adventumque tuum; tibi suaveis dædala tellus Submittit flores; tibi rident æquora ponti; Placatumque nitet diffuso lumine coelum._ LUCRETIUS. Hence, iron-scepter'd WINTER, haste To bleak Siberian waste! Haste to thy polar solitude; Mid cataracts of ice, Whose torrents dumb are stretch'd in fragments rude, From many an airy precipice, Where, ever beat by sleety show'rs, Thy gloomy Gothic castle tow'rs; Amid whose howling iles and halls, Where no gay sunbeam paints the walls, On ebon throne thou lov'st to shroud, Thy brows in many a murky cloud. E'en now, before the vernal heat, Sullen I see thy train retreat: Thy ruthless host stern EURUS guides, That on a ravenous tiger rides, Dim-figur'd on whose robe are shewn Shipwrecks, and villages o'erthrown: Grim AUSTER, dropping all with dew, In mantle clad of watchet hue: And COLD, like Zemblan savage seen, Still threatening with his arrows keen; And next, in furry coat embost With icicles, his brother FROST. WINTER farewell! thy forests hoar, Thy frozen floods delight no more; Farewell the fields, so bare and wild! But come thou rose-cheek'd cherub mild, Sweetest SUMMER! haste thee here, Once more to crown the gladden'd year. Thee APRIL blythe, as long of yore, Bermudas' lawns he frolick'd o'er, With muskie nectar-trickling wing, (In the new world's first dawning spring,) To gather balm of choicest dews, And patterns fair of various hues, With which to paint in changeful dye, The youthful earth's embroidery; To cull the essence of rich smells In which to dip his new-born bells; Thee, as he skim'd with pinions fleet, He found an infant, smiling sweet; Where a tall citron's shade imbrown'd The soft lap of the fragrant ground. There on an amaranthine bed, Thee with rare nectarine fruits he fed; Till soon beneath his forming care, You bloom'd a goddess debonnair; And then he gave the blessed isle Aye to be sway'd beneath thy smile: There plac'd thy green and grassy shrine, With myrtle bower'd and jessamine: And to thy care the task assign'd With quickening hand, and nurture kind, His roseate infant-births to rear, Till Autumn's mellowing reign appear. Haste thee nymph! and hand in hand, With thee lead a buxom band; Bring fantastic-footed Joy, With Sport that yellow-tressed boy. Leisure, that through the balmy sky, Chases a crimson butterfly.