OR.. DARWIN. 31 



Here, proudly nodding o'er the vale below, 

 High rocks of pearl reflect the morning ray, 



Whence gufhimg ftreams of azure ne&ar flow, 

 And tinge the trickling herbage on their way. 



Thefe, cull'd from every mountain, every plain, 

 Perennial flowers the ambient air perfume, 



Far off Hern Boreas holds his drear domain, 



Nor chains the ftreams, nor blights the facred bloom. 



Through all the year, in copfe and tangled dale, 

 Lone Philomel her fong to Venus pours, 



What time pale Evening fpreads the dewy ve'rl, 

 What time the red Morn bluflies on the iliores. 



Illufive vifions ! O, not here, not here, 

 Does Spring eternal hold her placid reign, 



Already Boreas chills the altering year, 



And blafts the purple daughters of the plain. 



So fade my promis'd joys t fair fcenes of bliis, 



Ideal fcenes, too long believ'd in vain, 

 Plung'd down and fwallow'd deep in Time's abyls !-^- 



So veering Chance, and rnthlefs fates ordain. 



Thee, Laura, thee, by fount, or mazy ftream, 

 Or thicket rude, unpreft'd by human feet, 



I figh, unheeded, to the moon's pale beam ; 

 Thee, Laura, thee, the echoing hiils repeat, 



Oleag 



