See Phrygia's lawns in flowery verdure gay,
See purer gales o'er bright Ilissus stray;
Eternal clouds on huge Ripheus roll'd,
And Thracia flaming with barbaric gold.
Here frosts for ever reign, and winter roars;
There the full vine her purple tribute pours;

A thousand herds on rich Emathia low,
And flocks unnumber'd fleece her hills with snow;
O'er Libya's fields the lordly lion roves,
In Tempe's vale the turtle tells her loves;
Beside those lofty towers, that fruitful plain,
Where Agrigentum holds her wealthy reign,
The fiery coursers flew, inured to bear
Her dames in peace, her mighty chiefs in war;
For Agragas was then, nor prouder shone
The jewell'd pomp of Persia's regal throne.
Now sad and silent all her glory lies,

Save where yon Fanes in mouldering beauty rise;
They, sole surviving, grace the classic scene,
And mark the spot where greatness once has been.
Above, below, through ocean, earth, and air,
All, all is life; the God is every where.

He form'd the Eagle's rapid wing for flight,

Curv'd his strong beak, and clear'd his piercing sight; He bade the timid Ostrich scour the plain;

He fring'd with gold the Peacock's painted train.

The Halcyon's plume is His; and every song
That sweetly sounds fair Hybla's woods among.
There, ever mindful of her early day,

Sad Philomela pours her plaintive lay;

The blue Jay roving o'er the thymy vale,

Drops his spread wing and drinks the thrilling tale.
Around ten thousand busy insects play,

The thoughtless tenants of the noon-tide ray.
Born with the beam, their happy race they run,
And sink to silence with the falling sun.
Yet oh! approach, that short-lived form behold,
Mark his blue helm, his cuirass strip'd with gold,
His silken wings in filmy lustre spread,

And the lythe antlers waving o'er his head;

How firm the threads that bind each springy limb! How beams that eye which one short hour shall dim! Immense profusion, which could thus array

A worm, a mite, to frolick for a day!

Nor less old Ocean's azure fields declare
Unbounded power in wisdom working there.
But oh! what voice can tell, or thought explore,
The countless tribes that people every shore,
Or peaceful slumber in the coral cave,

Or ride exulting on the roaring wave!

For every form is there; they float, they swim,
Ply the soft oar, and bend the jointed limb:

There is the slimy Seal, the unwieldy Whale;
The Oyster valv'd, the Lobster cas'd in mail,
The Dolphin brightest of the watery train,
And Turtle slumbering on the milky main.
There sails the ravenous Shark in tyrant pride,
His faithful Pilot fearless at his side;

There the huge Porpoise floats, while sportive round
The spangled Trout and active Tunny bound.

Oft by those shores, where stretch'd in slumber lay
The summer waye in Oran's peaceful bay,

Or far on western seas with side-long sail
Haul'd close and brac'd to meet the adverse gale,
What time fast sinking to his rosy bed,

The Sun's full beams a prouder lustre shed;
Oft have I seen the mingled troops advance,
Bask in the smooth, or lead the liquid dance;
Or bounding swift and high in gamböls rude,
Dash through the brine pursuing and pursued.

Joy play'd around them, Pleasure blythe and strong
Curl'd the blue billows as they shot along;

That my sad heart has leap'd, though press'd with pain,
And felt the pulse of rapture beat again.

1

Oh! then, what gladness wak'd the Sage's soul, Whose ardent thought survey'd the amazing whole! From sea, from shore, tall cliff, and lowly dell,

He heard Creation's choral anthem swell;

The high Hosanna, borne upon the gale,

Breath'd through each grove, and stream'd from every vale;

Bright Arno's waves responsive murmurs sung,

Dark Ida's heights with echoing rapture rung;

And air and ocean, as it swept along,

Raised a glad shout to swell the general song.

LINES

Written at the Fountain of Arethusa, on the road
from Palermo to Syracuse.

"Lives there one who worships now.

"Arethusa's slighted wave?

"Still beside my sacred stream,

"None the song of joy renew,

"Silent springs the morning beam, "Sad descends the evening dew.

"Not such was Freedom's early day,

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By haunted stream and hallow'd grove, "When rapture poured the festive lay, "When rung the lyre to mirth and love;

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And youths in Fancy's wizard hour "Would on this favour'd marge recline, "And maidens hung the votive flower,

"An offering at my virgin shrine.

"But fierce around this lowly dell, "The flames of war and conquest spread,

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My sons for freedom fought and fell,

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My frighted maidens wept and fled.

"Ah! woe betide the cruel sword,
"And woe befall the luckless day,
"That gave me to a tyrant lord,

"That swept my children all away.

"Now strangers hold this classic bower,

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My meads, my groves, my altars spurn, "And rudely crush each hallowed flower, "That lightly wreathed my agate urn.