And Phoebus from his morning-goal again 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: 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 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! My friend, and favorite inmate of my heart, What mountains now, and seas, alas! how wide! Dear, as the sage renown'd for moral truth 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: Him, entering, thou shalt haply seated sce Or minist❜ring (which is his weighticst care) Such gratulation, as he claims, from me! And, with a down-cast eye, and carriage meek, Addressing him, forget not thus to speak! |