FABLES OF FLORA. 7 
And find in Memory’s faithful eye, 
Our little stock of pleasures lie. 
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 woodland Genius came, 
And touched me with his holy flame; 
Or where the hermit, Bela, leads 
Her waves through solitary meads, 
And only feeds the desert 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 ; 
Where Eden’s fairer waters flow, 
By Milton’s bower, or Osty’s brow, 
Or Brockley’s alder-shaded cave, 
Or, winding round the Druid’s grave, 
Silently glide, with pious fear, 
To sound his holy slumbers near ; 
To these fair scenes of Fancy’s reign, 
O, Memory! bear me once again; 
For, when bfe’s varied scenes are past, 
’T is simple Nature charms at last.’ 
