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The mountain snows are all dissolv'd,
And husb’d the blustering gale; While fragrant zephyrs gently breathe
Along the flowry vale.
The circling planets' constant rounds
The wintry wastes repair ;
Renew the verdant year.
But, ah! when once our transient bloom,
The spring of life, is o'er, That rosy season takes its flight,
And must return no more.
Yet judge by reason's sober rules,
From false opinion free,
Can steal from you or me.
Each moral pleasure of the heart,
Each lasting charm of truth, Depends not on the giddy aid
Of wild inconstant youth.
The vain coquet, whose empty pride
A fading face supplies,
Where all its glory dies.
Leave such a ruin to deplore,
To fading forms confined :
One feature of the mind.
Amidst the universal change,
Unconscious of decay,
Sweep all besides away.
Fix'd on its own eternal frame,
Eternal are its joys;
Each mortal pleasure flies.
While every short-lived flower of sense
Destructive years consume, Through Friendship's fair enchanting walks,
Unfading myrtles bloom.
Nor with the narrow bounds of time
The beauteous prospect ends, But, lengthen'd through the vale of death,
To paradise extends.
BY THE SAME.
The solitary bird of night
And quits the time-shook tower,
Beneath his ivy bower.
With joy I lear the solemn sound
And sighing gales repeat ;
At Wisdom's awful seat.
She loves the cool, the silent eve,
Beneath the lunar ray:
As in the glare of day.
O! Pallas, queen of every art, “ That glads the sense, or mends the heart,"
Bless'd source of purer joys ; In every form of beauty bright, That captivates the mental sight
With pleasure and surprise ;
To thy unspotted shrine I bow;
That breathes no wild desires :
To nobler views aspires.
Not fortune's gem, ambition's plume,
Be objects of my prayer:
The dull rewards of care.
To me thy better gifts impart,
By studious thought refined :
An empire o'er my mind,
When fortune drops her gay parade, When pleasure's transient roses fade,
And wither in the tomb, Unchanged is thy immortal prize, Thy ever-verdant laurels rise
In undecaying bloom.
By thee protected, I defy
Of ignorance and spite;
Of undiscerning wit.
From envy, hurry, noise, and strife, The dull impertinence of life,
In thy retreat I rest ; Pursue thee to thy peaceful groves, Where Plato's sacred spirit roves,
In all thy graces dress’d.
He bade Ilissus' tuneful stream
Of perfect, fair, and good: Attentive Athens caught the sound, And all her listening sons around
In awful silence stood.