The god of winds drew sounds of deep delight. Whence, with just cause, the harp of Æolus* it hight.

41. Ah me! what hand can touch the string so Who up the lofty diapason roll [fine? Such sweet, such sad, such solemn airs divine, Then let them down again into the soul? Now rising love they fann'd; now pleasing dole They breath'd, in tender musings, through the heart: And now a graver sacred strain they stole, As when seraphic hands an hymn impart ; Wide warbling Nature all, above the reach of Art. 42. Such the gay splendour, the luxurious state, Of caliphs old, who on the Tigris' shore, In mighty Bagdat, populous and great, Held their bright court, where was of ladies store, And verse, love, music, still the garland wore ; When sleep was coy, the bard, in waiting there, Cheer'd the lone midnight with the Muse's lore,+ Composing music bade his dreams be fair, And music lent new gladness to the morning air. 43. Near the pavilions where we slept still ran Soft-tinkling streams, and dashing waters fell, And sobbing breezes sigh'd, and oft began (So work'd the wizard) wintry storms to swell, As heaven and earth they would together mell: At doors and windows, threat'ning seem'd to call The demons of the tempest, growling fell,

Yet the least entrance found they none at all, [hall. Whence sweeter grew our sleep, secure in massy

*This is not an imagination of the Author, there being in fact such an instrument, called Eolus's harp, which, when placed against a little rushing or current of air, produces the effect here described

†The Arabian caliphs had poets among the officers of their court, whose office it was to do what is here mentioned.

44. And hither Morpheus sent his kindest dreams, Raising a world of gayer tinct and grace, O'er which were shadowy cast Elysian gleams, That play'd in waving lights, from place to place, And shed a roseate smile on Nature's face. Not Titian's pencil e'er could so array, So fleece with clouds the pure ethereal space; Ne could it e'er such melting forms display, As loose on flowery beds all languishingly lay.

45. No, fair illusions! artful phantoms, no! My Muse will not attempt your fairy-land : She has no colours that like you can glow, To catch your vivid scenes too gross her. hand. But sure it is, was ne'er a subtler band Than these same guileful angel-seeming sprights, Who thus in dreams, voluptuous, soft, and bland, Pour'd all th' Arabian heaven upon our nights, And bless'd them oft besides with more refin'd delights.

46. They were in sooth a most enchanting train, E'er feigning virtue; skilful to unite

With evil good, and strew with pleasure pain :
But for those fiends whom blood and broils delight,
Who hurl the wretch, as if to hell outright,
Down, down black gulfs, where sullen waters sleep,
Or hold him clambering all the fearful night
On beetling cliffs, or pent in ruins deep,
[keep.
They, till due time shall serve, were bid far hence to

47. Ye guardian spirits! to whom man is dear, From these foul demons shield the midnight gloom : Angels of fancy, and of love! be near,

And o'er the blank of sleep diffuse a bloom :
Evoke the sacred shades of Greece and Rome,
And let them virtue with a look impart ;
But chief awhile, O! lend us from the tomb

Those long-lost friends for whom in love we smart, And fill with pious awe and joy-mixt woe the heart.

48. Or are you sportive ?-Bid the morn of youth Rise to new light, and beam afresh the days Of innocence, simplicity, and truth,

To cares estrang'd, and manhood's thorny ways,
What transport, to retrace our boyish plays,
Our easy bliss, when each thing joy supply'd,
The woods, the mountains, and the warbling maze
Of the wild brooks !-But, fondly wand'ring wide,
My Muse ! resume the task that yet doth thee abide.

49. One great amusement of our household was,
In a huge crystal magic globe to spy,
Still as you turn'd it, all things that do pass,
Upon this ant-hill earth! where constantly
Of idle busy men the restless fry

Run bustling to and fro with foolish haste,
In search of pleasures vain that from them fly,
Or, which obtain'd, the caitiffs dare not taste;
When nothing is enjoy'd, can there be greater waste?
50. Of Vanity the mirror this was call'd.
Here you a muck-worm of the town might see,
At his dull desk, amid his ledgers stall'd,
Ate up with carking care and penury,
Most like to carcass parch'd on gallows-tree.
A penny saved is a penny got ;'

Firm to this scoundrel maxim keepeth he,
Ne of its rigour will he bate a jot,

Till it has quench'd his fire and banished his pot.

51. Straight from the filth of this low grub, behold! Comes fluttering forth a gaudy spendthrift heir, All glossy gay, enamell'd all with gold, The silly tenant of the summer air, In folly lost, of nothing takes he care;

Pimps, lawyers, stewards, harlots, flatterers vile, And thieving tradesmen, him among them share; His father's ghost from Limbo like, the while, Sees this, which more damnation doth upon him pile.

52. This globe portray'd the race of learned men Still at their books, and turning o'er the page Backwards and forwards: oft they snatch the pen, As if inspir'd, and in a Thespian rage,

Then write, and blot, as would your ruth engage.
Why, authors! all this scrawl and scribbling sore?
To lose the present, gain the future age,
Praised to be when you can hear no more, [store?
And much enrich'd with fame when useless worldly

53. Then would a splendid city rise to view,
With carts, and cars, and coaches, roaring all :
Wide pour'd abroad behold the giddy crew,
See how they dash along from wall to wall:
At every door, hark how they thundering call!
Good Lord! what can this giddy rout excite?
Why, on each other with fell tooth to fall,
A neighbour's fortune, fame, or peace to blight,
And make new tiresome parties for the coming night

54. The puzzling sons of Party next appear'd, In dark cabals and nightly juntos met,

And now they whisper'd close, now shrugging rear`d
Th' important shoulder; then, as if to get
New light, their twinkling eyes were inward set.
No sooner Lucifer* recalls affairs,

Then forth they various rush in mighty fret: [cares,
When, lo! push'd up to power, and crown'd their
In comes another set, and kicketh them down stairs.

55. But what most shew'd the vanity of life, Was to behold the nations all on fire,

In cruel broils engag'd, and deadly strife;
The morning star.

Most Christian kings, inflam'd by black desire,
With honourable ruffians in their hire,

Cause war to wage, and blood around to pour :
Of this sad work when each begins to tire,

They sit them down just where they were before,
Till for new scenes of woe peace shall their force

restore.

56. To number up the thousands dwelling here, An useless were, and, eke, an endless task, From kings, and those who at the helm appear, To gipsies brown in summer glades who bask; Yea, many a man, perdie, I could unmask, Whose desk and table make a solemn show, With tape-ty'd trash, and suits of fools that ask For place or pension laid in decent row; But these I passen by, with nameless numbers moe. 57. Of all the gentle tenants of the place, There was a man of special grave remark; A certain tender gloom o'erspread his face, Pensive, not sad; in thought involv'd, not dark; As scot this man could sing as morning lark, And teach the noblest morals of the heart; But these his talents were yburied stark; Of the fine stores he nothing could impart, Which or boon Nature gave, or nature-painting Art. 58. To noontide shades incontinent he ran, Where purls the brooks with sleep-inviting sound, Or when Dan Sol to slope his wheels began, Amid the broom he bask'd him on the ground, Where the wild thyme and camomile are found There would he linger, till the latest ray

Of light sate trembling on the welkin's bound, Then homewards through the twilight shadows stray, Sauntering and slow: so had he passed many a day.