In airy tumult swell. Beneath a hill
Amyntor heaves of overwhelming seas;
Or rides, with dizzy dread, from cloud to cloud,
The billow's back. Anon, the shadowy world
Shifts to some boundless continent unknown, 253
Where folitary, o'er the starless void,
Dumb-silence broods. Through heaths of dreary lengthy.
Slow on he drags his staggering step infirm
With breathless toil; hears torrent floods afar
Roar through the wild ; and, plung'din central caves, 30
Falls headlong many a fathom into night.
Yet there, at once, in all her living charms,
And brightening with their glow the brown abyss,
Rose Theodora. Smiling, in her eye
Sat, without cloud, the soft-consenting soul, 35
That, guilt unknowing, had no wish to hide.
A spring of sudden myrtles flowering round
Their walk embower'd; while nightingales beneath
Sung spousals, as along th' enamel'd turf
They seem'd to fly, and interchang’d their souls,
Melting in mutual softness. Thrice his arms
The Fair encircled : thrice she fled his grasp,
And fading into darkness mix?d with air-
O, turn ! O, stay thy flight! - so loud he cry'd;
Sleep and its train of humid.vapours fied.

45
He groan’d, he gaz'd around : his inward sense
Yet glowing with the vision's vivid beam,
Still, on his eye, the hovering shadow blaz’d;
Her voice still. murmur'd in his tinkling ear;
Grateful deception! till returning thought 50

65

Left broad awake, amid th' incumbent lour
Of mute and mournful night, again he felt
His grief inflam'd throb fresh in every vein.
To frenzy stung, upstarting from his couch,
The vale, the shore, with darkling step he roam'd, 55
Like fome drear spectre from the grave unbound:
Then, scaling yonder cliff, prone o'er its trow
He hung, in aet to plunge amid the flood
Scarce from that height discern'd. Nor reason's voice,
Nor ow'd submission to the will of heaven,

60
Restrains him; but, as paslion whirls his thought,
Fond expectation, that perchance efcap'd,
Though passing all belief, the frailer skiff,
To which himself had borne th' unhappy Fair,
May yet be seen. Around, o'er sea and thore,
He roll'd his ardent eye ; but nought around
On land or wave within his ken appears,
Nor skiff, nor floating corse, on which to shed
The last fad tear, and lay the covering mold!

And now, wide open’d by the wakeful hours 70
Heaven's orient gate, forth on her progress comes
Aurora smiling, and her purple lamp
Lifts high o'er earth and sea : while, all-unveil'd,
The vast horizon on Amyntor's eye
Pours full its scenes of wonder, wildly great, 75
Magnificently various. From this steep,
Diffus'd immense in rolling prospect lay
The northern deep. Amidst, from space to space,
Her numerous ifles, rich gems of Albion's crown,
As flow th' ascending mists disperse in air,

80

Shoot

:

85

Shoot gradual from her bofom : and beyond,
Like distant clouds blue-floating on the verge
Of evening skies, break forth the dawning hills.
A thousand landscapes ! barren some and bare,
Rock pild on rock, amazing, up to heaven,
Of horrid grandeur : some with sounding ash,
Or oak broad-shadowing, or the spiry growth
Of waving pine high-plum'd, and all beheld
More lovely in the sun's adorning beam;
Who now, fair-rising o'er yon eastern cliff, go
The vernal verdure tinctures gay with gold.

Mean while Aurelius, wak'd from sweet repose,
Repose that Temperance sheds in timely dews
On all who live to her, his mournful guest
Came forth to hail, as hospitable rites

95
And Virtue's rule enjoin : but first to him,
Spring of all charity, who gave the heart
With kindly sense to glow, his matin-song,
Superior duty, thus the fage addrest:

Fountain of light! from whom yon orient sun First drew his splendor; Source of life and love ! Whole smile now wakes o’er earth's rekindling face The boundless blum of spring; O, First and Best ! Thy essence, though from human fight and search, Though from the climb of all created thought, 105 Ineffably remov’d; yet man himself, Thy lowest child of reason, man may read Unbounded power, intelligence supreme, The Maker's hand, on all his works imprest, In characters coëval with the sun,

And

100

II

to

in

1

120

And with the fun to last; from world to world,
From age. age, every clime, disclos’d,
Sole revelation through all time the same,
Hail, universal Goodness! with full ftream
For ever flowing from beneath the throne

tis
Through earth, air, sea, to all things that have life:
From all that live on earth, in air and sea,
The great community of Nature's fons,
To thee, first Father, ceaseless praise ascend!
And in the reverent hymn my grateful voice
Be duly heard, among thy works not least,
Nor lowest; with intelligence informd,
To know thee, and adore ; with free-will crown'd,
Where Virtue leads, to follow and be blest,
0, whether by thy prime decree ordain'd

12.5
To days of future life; or whether now
The mortal hour is instant, ftill vouchsafe,
Parent and friend, to guide me blameless on
Through this dark scene of error and of ill,
Thy truth to light me, and thy peace to chear. 13°
All else, of me unask'd, thy will fupreme
With-hold or grant: and let that will be done.

This from the soul in silence breath'd sincere,
The hill's steep side with firm elastic step
He lightly scald: such health the frugal board, 135
The morn's fresh breath that exercise respires
In mountain-walks, and conscience free from blame,
Our life's best cordial, can through age prolong.
There, lost in thought, and felf-abandon'd, lay
The man unknown; nor heard approach his hoft, 140

Nor

Nor rais'd his drooping head. Aurelius, mov'd
By soft compaffion, which the favage scene,
Shut

up

and bari'd amid surrounding feas From human commerce, quicken'd into sense Of harper sorrow, thus apart began.

145 O fight, that from the eye of wealth or pride, Ev’n in their hour of vainest thought, might draw A feeling tear! Whom yesterday beheld By love and fortune crown’d, : of all posseft

That Fancy, tranc'd in fairest vision, dreams; 150 Now lost to all, each hope that softens life, Each bliss that chears; there, on the damp earth spread, Beneath a heaven unknown, behold him now! And let the gay, the fortunate, the great, The proud, be taught, what now the wretched feel, 155 The happy have to fear. O man forlorn, Too plain I read thy heart, by fondness drawn To this sad scene, to fights that but inflame Its tender anguish

Hear me, heaven! exclaim'd 166 The frantic mourner, could that anguish rise To madness and to mortal agony, I yet would bless my fate ; by one kind pang, From what I feel, the keener pangs of thought For ever freed. To me the fun is loft:

165 To me the future flight of days and years Is darknefs, is despair-But who complains Forgets that he can die. O, sainted maid! For such in heaven thou art, if from thy seat Of holy reft, beyond these changeful skies, 779

If