Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul,
And, dashing soft from rocks around,
Bubbling runnels joined the sound.

Through glades and glooms the mingled measures stole;
Or, o'er some haunted stream, with foul delay,
Round a holy calm diffusing,

Love of peace, and lonely musing,

In hollow murmurs died away.

But oh, how altered was its sprightlier tone
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,
Her bow across her shoulder flung,

Her buskins gemmed with morning dew,
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung,
The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known!
The oak-crowned Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen,
Satyrs and Sylvan Boys were seen,

Peeping from forth their alleys green;

Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear,

And Sport leaped up and seized his beechen spear.

Last came Joy's ecstatic trial:

He, with viny crown advancing,

First to the lively pipe his hand addrest.

But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol,

Whose sweet, entrancing voice he loved the best : They would have thought who heard the strain They saw in Tempé's vale her native maids, Amidst the festal-sounding shades,

To some unwearied minstrel dancing.
While, as his flying fingers kissed the strings,
Love framed with Mirth a gay, fantastic round;
Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound,
And he, amidst his frolic play,

As if he would the charming air repay,
Shook thousand odors from his dewy wings.

O Music sphere-descended maid,
Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid!
Why, goddess, why, to us denied,
Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside?
As, in that loved Athenian bower,
You learned an all-commanding power,

Thy mimic soul, O Nymph endeared,
Can well recall what then it heard.
Where is thy native, simple heart,
Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art?
Arise, as in that elder time,
Warm, energetic, chaste, sublime!
Thy wonders in that god-like age,
Fill thy recording Sister's page,
'Tis said-and I believe the tale-
Thy humblest reed could more prevail,
Had more of strength, diviner rage,
Than all which charms this laggard age;
E'en all at once together found,
Cecilia's mingled world of sound-
O bid our vain endeavors cease;
Revive the just designs of Greece;
Return in all thy simple state;
Confirm the tales her sons relate!

COLLINS, WILLIAM WILKIE, an English novelist, born in London, England, January 8, 1824; died September 23, 1889. He was the son of William Collins, an artist, and was educated. for the bar. His earliest literary performance was a biography of his father, published in 1848. His best work is The Woman in White. The reputation made for him by this masterpiece of fiction rapidly spread throughout England and the Continent of Europe, and extended to America and Australia until his readers could be found in every civilized country of the globe. The powerful interest of his novels lies in the mystery which is maintained to the end, and the art by which the reader's attention is fixed and maintained through the successive chapters. Saintsbury says of him: "The strictly literary merit of none of his works can be placed high, and the method-that of forwarding the result by a complicated intertwist of letters and narratives-though it took the public fancy for a time, was clumsy; while the author followed his master [Dickens] in more than one aberration of taste and sentiment." The following are his principal works: Antonina (1850); Rambles Beyond Railways (1851); Basil (1852); Mr. Wray's Cash Box (1852); Hide and Seek (1854); After Dark (1856); The Dead Secret (1857); The Queen of Hearts (1859); The Woman in White (1860); No