But shoots along supported on her wings; A bird new-made about the banks she plies,

Not far from shore, and short excursions tries;

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Nor seeks in air her humble flight to raise,
Content to skim the surface of the seas:
Her bill, tho' slender, sends a creaking noise,
And imitates a lamentable voice.
Now lighting where the bloodless body lies,
She with a funeral note renews her cries.
At all her stretch her little wings she
spread,

And with her feather'd arms embrac'd the dead;

Then flick'ring to his pallid lips, she strove
To print a kiss, the last essay of love.
Whether the vital touch reviv'd the dead,
Or that the moving waters rais'd his head
To meet the kiss, the vulgar doubt alone;
For sure a present miracle was shown.
The gods their shapes to winter birds trans-
late,

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But both obnoxious to their former fate.
Their conjugal affection still is tied,
And still the mournful race is multiplied.
They bill, they tread; Alcyone, compress'd,
Sev'n days sits brooding on her floating
nest,

A wintry queen: her sire at length is kind,
Calms ev'ry storm, and hushes ev'ry wind;
Prepares his empire for his daughter's ease,
And for his hatching nephews smooths the

seas.

THE FLOWER AND THE LEAF

OR, THE LADY IN THE ARBOR

A VISION [OUT OF CHAUCER] Now turning from the wintry signs, the sun His course exalted thro' the Ram had run, And, whirling up the skies, his chariot drove Thro' Taurus and the lightsome realms of love;

Then from their breathing souls the sweets repair

To scent the skies, and purge th' unwholesome air;

Joy spreads the heart, and, with a general

song,

Spring issues out and leads the jolly months

along.

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In that sweet season, as in bed I lay
And sought in sleep to pass the night away,
I turn'd my weary side, but still in vain,
Tho' full of youthful health, and void of
pain:

Cares I had none, to keep me from my rest,
For love had never enter'd in my breast;
I wanted nothing Fortune could supply,
Nor did she slumber till that hour deny.
I wonder'd then, but after found it true,
Much joy had dried away the balmy dew:
Seas would be pools, without the brush-
ing air

30

To curl the waves; and sure some little

Some ruddy-color'd, some of lighter green. The painted birds, companions of the spring, Hopping from spray to spray, were heard to sing;

50

Both eyes and ears receiv'd a like delight,
Enchanting music, and a charming sight.
On Philomel I fix'd my whole desire,
And listen'd for the queen of all the choir;
Fain would I hear her heav'nly voice to
sing;

And wanted yet an omen to the spring.
Attending long in vain, I took the way,
Which thro' a path but scarcely printed
lay;

In narrow mazes oft it seem'd to meet,
And look'd as lightly press'd by fairy feet.
Wand'ring I walk'd alone, for still me-
thought

To some strange end so strange a path was

With

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grass, and some was sow'd with rising grain,

That (now the dew with spangles deck'd the ground)

A sweeter spot of earth was never found. I look'd and look'd, and still with new delight;

Such joy my soul, such pleasures fill'd my sight:

And the fresh eglantine exhal'd a breath, Whose odors were of pow'r to raise from

death.

Thus, as I mus'd, I cast aside my eye, And saw a medlar tree was planted nigh. The spreading branches made a goodly show, And full of opening blooms was ev'ry bough. A goldfinch there I saw with gaudy pride Of painted plumes, that hopp'd from side to side,

Still pecking as she pass'd; and still she drew

The sweets from ev'ry flow'r, and suck'd the dew:

Suffic'd at length, she warbled in her

throat,

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And tun'd her voice to many a merry note, But indistinct, and neither sweet nor clear, Yet such as sooth'd my soul and pleas'd

my ear.

Her short performance was no sooner tried,

When she I sought, the nightingale, replied:

So sweet, so shrill, so variously she sung,
That the grove echo'd, and the valleys rung;
And I so ravish'd with her heav'nly note,
I stood intranc'd, and had no room for
thought,

But all o'erpow'r'd with ecstasy of bliss, 120
Was in a pleasing dream of Paradise.
At length I wak'd, and, looking round the
bow'r,

Search'd ev'ry tree, and pried on ev'ry flow'r,

If anywhere by chance I might espy
The rural poet of the melody;

For still methought she sung not far away.
At last I found her on a laurel spray;
Close by my side she sate, and fair in sight,
Full in a line, against her opposite,
Where stood with eglantine the laurel
twin'd,

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And both their native sweets were well conjoin'd.

On the green bank I sat, and listen'd long;

(Sitting was more convenient for the song!) Nor till her lay was ended could I move, But wish'd to dwell forever in the grove. Only methought the time too swiftly pass'd,

And ev'ry note I fear'd would be the last. My sight, and smell, and hearing were employ'd,

And all three senses in full gust enjoy'd.
And what alone did all the rest surpass, 140
The sweet possession of the fairy place;
Single, and conscious to myself alone
Of pleasures to th' excluded world un-
known:

Pleasures which nowhere else were to be found,

And all Elysium in a spot of ground.

Thus while I sat intent to see and hear, And drew perfumes of more than vital air, All suddenly I heard th' approaching sound Of vocal music on th' enchanted ground: An host of saints it seem'd, so full the choir;

150

As if the blest above did all conspire
To join their voices and neglect the lyre.
At length there issued from the grove be-
hind

A fair assembly of the female kind:
A train less fair, as ancient fathers tell,
Seduc'd the sons of heaven to rebel.

A lady of a more majestic mien, By stature and by beauty mark'd their sovereign queen.

She in the midst began with sober grace; Her servants' eyes were fix'd upon her face,

And, as she mov'd or turn'd, her motions view'd,

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Her measures kept, and step by step pursued.

Methought she trod the ground with greater grace,

With more of godhead shining in her face;
And as in beauty she surpass'd the choir,
So, nobler than the rest, was her attire.
A crown of ruddy gold inclos'd her brow,
Plain without pomp, and rich without a
show:

A branch of agnus castus in her hand
She bore aloft (her scepter of command);
Admir'd, ador'd by all the circling crowd,
For wheresoe'er she turn'd her face, they
bow'd.

And as she danc'd, a roundelay she sung,
In honor of the laurel, ever young:

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She rais'd her voice on high, and sung` so clear,

The fawns came scudding from the groves to hear,

And all the bending forest lent an ear.
At ev'ry close she made, th' attending
throng

Replied, and bore the burden of the song:
So just, so small, yet in so sweet a note,
It seem'd the music melted in the throat. 200
Thus dancing on, and singing as they
danc'd,

They to the middle of the mead advanc'd,
Till round my arbor a new ring they made,
And footed it about the secret shade.
O'erjoy'd to see the jolly troop so near,
But somewhat aw'd, I shook with holy fear;
Yet not so much, but that I noted well
Who did the most in song or dance excel.

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Not long I had observ'd, when from afar I heard a sudden symphony of war; The neighing coursers, and the soldiers' cry, And sounding trumps that seem'd to tear the sky.

I saw soon after this, behind the grove From whence the ladies did in order move, Come issuing out in arms a warrior train, That like a deluge pour'd upon the plain: On barbed steeds they rode in proud array, Thick as the college of the bees in May, When swarming o'er the dusky fields they fly,

New to the flow'rs, and intercept the sky. So fierce they drove, their coursers were so fleet,

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