To the pure foul by Fancy's fire refined, Ah what is mirth but turbulence unholy, When with the charm compared of heavenly melancholy! LVI. Is there a heart that mufic cannot melt? He needs not woo the Mufe; he is her fcorn. LVII. For Edwin Fate a nobler doom had plann'd ; For this of time and culture is the fruit; Meanwhile, whate'er of beautiful, or new, Thus on the chill Lapponian's dreary land, When Sol from Cancer fends the season bland, And in their northern cave the storms hath bound ; From filent mountains, ftraight, with startling found, Torrents are hurl'd; green hills emerge; and lo, The trees with foliage, cliffs with flowers are crown'd; Pure rills through vales of verdure warbling go; And wonder, love, and joy, the peasant's heart o'erflow.* LX. Here paufe my Gothic lyre, a little while. But if ***** on this labour smile, New ftrains ere long shall animate thy frame : I only wish to please the gentle mind, Whom Natures charms inspire, and love of humankind. Spring and Autumn are hardly known to the Laplanders. About the time the fun enters Cancer, their fields, which a week before were covered with fnow, appear of a sudden full of grafs and flowers. SCHEFFER'S Hiftory of Lapland, p. 61. THE MINSTREL; OR, THE PROGRESS OF GENIUS. THE SECOND BOOK. Doctrina fed vim promovet infitam, Rectique cultus pectoro roborant. HORAT. OF 1. F chance or change O let not man complain, Elfe shall he never never ceafe to wail: For, from the imperial dome, to where the swain Rears the lone cottage in the filent dale. All th' affault of fortune's fickle gale ; Art, empire, earth itself, to change are doom'd; Earthquakes have raised to heaven the humble vale, And gulfs the mountain's mighty mafs entomb'd, And where th' Atlantick rolls wide continents have bloom'd.* See PLATO's Timeus. II. But fure to foreign climes we need not range, But fpare, O Time, whate'er of mental grace, Whate'er of fancy's ray, or friendship's flame is mine. III. aye So I, obfequious to Truth's dread command, Shall here without reluctance change my lay, And fmite the Gothic lyre with har her hand; Now when I leave that flowery path for Of childhood, where I fported many a-day, Warbling and fauntering carelefly along; Where every face was innocent and gay, Each vale romantick, tuneful every tongue, Sweet, wild, and artlefs all, as Edwin's infant fong. IV. Perish the lore that deadens young defire' Is the foft tenor of my fong no more. Edwin, though loved of Heaven, must not aspire. To blifs, which mortals never new before. On trembling wings let youthful fancy foar, Nor always haunt the funny realms of joy; But now and then the shades of life explore; Though many a found and fight of woe annoy. And many a 'qualm of care his rifing hopes deftroy. V. Vigour from toil, from trouble patience grows. And from the ftormy promontory tower, And tofs their giant arms amid the fkies, While each affailing blaft encrease of strength supplies. VI. And now the downy cheek and deepen'd voice Which heretofore his foot had never trode ; VII. Thither he hied, enamour'd of the scene; For rocks on rocks piled, as by magic fpell, Here fcorch'd with lightning, there with ivy green, Fenced from the north and eaft this favage dell; Southward a mountain rofe with eafy fwell, Whofe long long groves eternal murmur made; And towards the western fun a ftreamlet fell, Where, through the cliffs, the eye, remote, furvey'd Blue hills, and glittering waves, and fkies in gold array'd. VIII. Along this narrow valley you might fee The wild deer fporting on the meadow ground, Or moffy ftone, or rock with woodbine crown'd. IX. One cultivated spot there was, that spread |