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And Phoebus from his morning-goal again
Had reach'd the gulphs of the Iberian main.
I wish'd repose, and on my couch reclin'd,
Took early rest, to night and sleep resign'd:
When-Oh for words to paint what I beheld!
I seem'd to wander in a spacious field,

Where all the champaign glow'd with purple light Like that of sun-rise on the mountain height; Flow'rs over all the field, of ev'ry hue

That ever Iris wore, luxuriant grew.

Nor Chloris, with whom am'rous Zephyrs play, E'er dress'd Alcinous' garden half so gay.

A silver current, like the Tagus, roll'd

O'er golden sands, but sands of

purer gold,

With dewy airs Favonius fann'd the flow'rs,

With airs awaken'd under rosy bow'rs.

Such, poets feign, irradiated all o'er

The sun's abode on India's utmost shore.

While I, that splendour, and the mingled shade

Of fruitful vines, with wonder fixt survey'd,

At once, with looks, that beam'd celestial grace,

The seer of Winton stood before my face.

His

snowy vesture's hem descending low

His golden sandals swept, and pure as snow

New-fallen shone the mitre on his brow.

Where'er he trod a tremulous sweet sound

Of gladness shook the flow'ry scene around:
Attendant angels clap their starry wings,
The trumpet shakes the sky, all æther rings,
Each chaunts his welcome, folds him to his breast,
And thus a sweeter voice than all the rest:
"Ascend, my son! thy father's kingdom share!
My son! henceforth be freed from ev'ry care!"

So spake the voice, and at its tender close With psaltry's sound th' angelic band arose, Then night retired, and chas'd by dawning day The visionary bliss pass'd all away.

I mourn'd my banish'd sleep, with fond concern;

Frequent to me may dreams like this return!

ELEGY IV.

TO HIS TUTOR,

THOMAS YOUNG,

CHAPLAIN TO THE ENGLISH FACTORY AT HAMBURGH.

Written in the Author's 18th Year.

HENCE my epistle-skim the deep-fly o'er
Yon smooth expanse to the Teutonic shore!
Haste-lest a friend should grieve for thy delay-
And the Gods grant, that nothing thwart thy way!
I will myself invoke the king, who binds,
In his Sicanian echoing vault, the winds,
With Doris and her nymphs, and all the throng
Of azure gods, to speed thee safe along.
But rather to ensure thy happier haste,
Ascend Medea's chariot, if thou may'st;
Or that, whence young Triptolemus of yore
Descended, welcome on the Scythian shore.

The sands, that line the German coast, descried,

To opulent Hamburga turn aside!

So called, if legendary fame be true,

From Hama, whom a club-arm'd Cimbrian slew!
There lives, deep-learn'd and primitively just,
A faithful steward of his Christian trust,

My friend, and favorite inmate of my heart,
That now is forc'd to want its better part!

What mountains now, and seas, alas! how wide!
From me this other, dearer self divide,

Dear, as the sage renown'd for moral truth
To the prime spirit of the attic youth!
Dear, as the Stagyrite to Ammon's son,
His pupil, who disdain'd the world he won!
Nor so did Chiron, or so Phoenix shine
In young Achilles' eyes, as he in mine.
First led by him thro' sweet Aonian shade,
Each sacred haunt of Pindus I survey'd ;
And favour'd by the muse, whom I implor'd,
Thrice on my lip the hallow'd stream I pour'd.

But thrice the sun's resplendent chariot roll'd To Aries, has new-ting'd his fleece with gold, And Chloris twice has dress'd the meadows

gay,

And twice has summer parch'd their bloom

away,

Since last delighted on his looks I hung,

Or my ear drank the music of his tongue:
Fly, therefore, and surpass the tempest's speed;
Aware thyself, that there is urgent need!

Him, entering, thou shalt haply seated sce
Beside his spouse, his infants on his knee.
Or turning, page by page, with studious look,
Some bulky father, or God's holy book.

Or minist❜ring (which is his weighticst care)
To Christ's assembled flock their heavenly fare.
Give him, whatever his employment be,

Such gratulation, as he claims, from me!

And, with a down-cast eye, and carriage meek,

Addressing him, forget not thus to speak!

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