Now hath the Sun his evanescent fires Quench'd in the billows of the western main: Sequester'd brakes enshroud the feathery choirs, And shelt'ring folds th' imprison'd herds retain.
Fall, ye deep shades! unhear'd ye waters roll!
Spread thy dominion, Silence, o'er the grove!
For LESBIA sleeps:-nor cheers my pensive soul
The glance of rapture, nor the voice of love.
Ye Winds, whose havoc-spreading pinions ply
Their furious speed, and with dire yell invade
This nether world, whose wasteful tyranny
Pale Dryads mourn in many a ruin'd shade,
Wake not my love!-let not your thund'ring cry
With dread alarm the haunts of peace infest;
Here breathe in soft Æolian melody
Each cadence sweet that sooths the soul to rest.
Ye Spectres (whom belated pilgrims fear,
Issuing in throngs from charnel, vault, or tomb,
What time deep-shadowing clouds thy radiant sphere,
Cynthia! involve in night's meridian gloom,)
Hence to deserted fane or mouldering hall,
Or the gaunt felon's ruthless course control!
With monitory shriek the wretch appal,
And to compunction wake his torpid soul:
But walk not near the couch where LESBIA lies
Like some rich pearl in its enamell'd shell,
Or sainted relick from profaner eyes
Secluded in the dim shrine's silver cell.
Wanton, ye Fairies! round her tranquil bower,
With blissful elves fantastic measures tread;
O'er her soft eyelids dews of opiate power,
Cull'd from choice blooms, in show'rs of fragrance shed:
Let your bright tapers' visionary ray
The raven-tinctur'd robe of Night illume;
And streaming o'er your spangled crests display
The wave-enamour'd halcyon's emerald plume!
And bid your Minstrel-Fays, a shadowy choir
That charm the planets from their spheres sublime,
Celestial songs, that love and joy inspire,
Chaunt to their golden harps' harmonious chime!
And, when morn's purple streaks th' horizon stain,
And fairies fly the peal of chanticleer,
Let fancy still your glittering hues retain,
Still let your wild notes tremble on her ear!
Then, LESBIA! wake thy beauties, fresher far
Than Galatea boasted when she lav'd
In the smooth deep her coral-axled car,
And the stern heart of Neptune's Son enslav'd!
Wake at his call, to sooth whose soul in vain Morn sheds her radiant beam, her odorous airs, Save when, attentive to his artless strain,
That radiant beam, those odours, LESBIA shares.
He asks no laureate wreath to deck his brows, No golden meed his bounded wishes claim:
Blest if the object of his tenderest vows
Smile on his lay-for LESBIA's smile is Fame.
FATE gave with unrelenting speed to fly
The genial hours that Love and LESBIA bless'd;
Sad, on her ear I pour'd the parting sigh,
Sad, on her hand the parting kiss impress'd.
Nor LESBIA, generous maid, her hand withdrew,
Nor did her ear disdain the parting sigh;
Swift to her cheek the living crimson flew,
Soft pity fill'd her breast and sympathy.
There all the gentle Charities reside,
With liberal sentiment, and chaste desire;
And banish cold reserve, and ruthless pride,
That bid affection's trembling flame expire.
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