THE FABLES OF FLORA. 35 



Come, then; thy kind recesses ope! 

 Fair keeper of the dreams of Hope! 

 Come with thy visionary train ; 

 And bring my morning scenes again! 



To Enon's wild and silent shade. 

 Where oft my lonely youth was laid ; 

 What time the icoodland Genius came. 

 And touched me with his holy flame.-— 



Or, where the hermit, Bel a, leads 



Her waves through solitary meads; 



And only feeds the desart-flower. 



Where once she soothed my slumbering hour: 



Or roused by Stainmore's wintry sky. 



She wearies echo with her cry; 



And oft, what storms her bosom tear. 



Her deeply-wounded banks declare. 



