Sweet Fancy fmil'd, and wav'd her myftick rod, When straight these vifions felt her pow'rful arm; And one by one fucceeded at her nod,

As vaffal fprites obey the wizard's charm.

Firft a celeftial form *-of azure hue,

Whofe mantle, bound with brede étherial, flow'd To each foft breeze it's balmy breath that drewSwift down the fun-beams of the noon-tide rode.

Obedient to the necromantick fway

Of an old fage, to folitude refign'd, With fenny vapours he obscur'd the day,

Launch'd the long lightning, and let loose the wind.

He whirl'd the tempeft thro' the howling air,
Rattled the dreadful thunder-clap on high,
And rais'd a roaring elemental war

Betwixt the fea-green waves and azure fky.

Then, like Heav'n's mild Ambassador of love
To man repentant, bade the tumult cease;
Smooth'd the blue bofom of the realms above,
And hush'd the rebel elements to peace.

Unlike to this in fpirit or in mien,

Another form + fucceeded to my view;

A two-legg'd brute, which Nature made in fpleen,
Or from the loathing womb unfinish'd drew.

Scarce could he fyllable the curfe he thought;
Prone were his eyes to earth, his mind to evil;
A carnal fiend to imperfection wrought,
The mongrel offspring of a witch and devil.

*Ariel in the Tempest.
Caliban in the Tempest.

Next bloom'd, upon an ancient foreft's bound,
The flow'ry margin of a filent ftream;
O'er-arch'd by oaks, with ivy mantled round,
And gilt by filver Cynthia's maiden beam.

On the green carpet of th' unbended grass,
A dapper train of female fairies play'd;
And ey'd their gambols in the wat'ry glass,

That smoothly ftole along the fhadowy glade.

Thro' these the Queen Titania pafs'd ador'd,
Mounted aloft in her imperial car ;
Journeying to fee great Oberon, her lord,

Wage the mock battles of a sportive war.

Arm'd cap-a-pee, forth march'd the fairy king,
A ftouter warrior never took the field;
His threat'ning lance a hornet's horrid fting,
The fharded beetle's fcale his fable fhield.

Around their chief the elfin hoft appear'd,
Each little helmet fparkled like a star;
And their fharp fpears in piercelefs phalanx rear'd,
A grove of thiftles, glitter'd in the air.

The scene then chang'd, from this romantick land,
To a bleak waste, by bound'ry unconfin'd;

Where three fmart fifters † of the weird band
Were mutt'ring curfes to the troublous wind.

Pale Want had wither'd ev'ry furrow'd face,
Bow'd was each carcafe with the weight of years,
And each funk eye-ball from it's hollow cafe
Diftill'd cold rheum's involuntary tears.

Fairy land, from the Midfummer Night's Dream.
The witches in Macbeth.

Hors'

Hors'd on three ftaves, they pofted to the bourn
Of a drear ifland, where the pendant brow
Of a rough rock, fhagg'd horribly with thorn,
Frown'd on the boift'rous waves which rag'd below.

Deep in a gloomy grot, remote from day,

Where fmiling Comfort never fhew'd her face; Where light ne'er enter'd, fave one rueful ray, Difcov'ring all the terrors of the place

They held damn'd myft'ries with infernal ftate,
Whilft ghaftly fpeâtres glided flowly by,
The fcreech-owl fcream'd the dying call of fate,
And ravens croak'd their baleful augury.

No human footstep chear'd the dread abode,
Nor fign of living creature could be feen;
Save where the reptile fnake, or fullen toad,

The murky floor had foil'd with venom green.

Sudden I heard the whirlwind's hollow found,
Each weird fifter vanifh'd into smoke!
Now a dire yell of fpirits under ground,

Thro' troubled Earth's wide-yawning furface broke

When, lo! each injur'd apparition rofe;

Aghaft the murd`rer started from his bed;
Guilt's trembling breath his heart's red current froze,
And Horror's dew-drops bath'd his frantick head.

More had I feen-But now the god of day

O'er Earth's broad breaft his flood of light had fpread; When Morpheus call'd his fickle dreams away,

And on their wings each bright illufion fled.

Ghofts in Macbeth, Richard III. &c.

Yet

Yet ftill the dear Enchantress of the brain,

My waking eyes with wifhful wand'rings fought;-
Whofe magick will controuls th' ideal train,
The ever-reftless progeny of Thought.

Sweet pow'r,' I said, for others gild the ray • Of Wealth, or Honour's folly-feather'd crown; 'Or lead the madding multitude aftray,

• To grasp at air-blown bubbles of renown.

• Me-humbler lot!-let blameless blifs engage, • Free from the noble mob's ambitious ftrife; Free from the muck-worm mifer's lucrous rage, 'In calm Contentment's cottag'd vale of life.

<If frailties therefor who from them is free?---
'Thro' Error's maze my devious footsteps lead;
Let them be frailties of humanity,

And my heart plead the pardon of my head.

Let not my reafon impiously require

'What Heav'n has plac'd beyond it's narrow span But teach it to fubdue each fierce defire,

Which wars within it's own small empire, man.

Teach me, what all believe, but few poffefs,
That life's beft fcience is ourselves to know;
The firft of human bleffings is to blefs,

'And happiest he who feels another's woe.

Thus, cheaply wife, and innocently great,

While Time's smooth fand fhall regularly pass;

* Each deftin'd atom's quiet course I'll wait,

Nor rafhly break, nor wifh to ftop, the glass.

And when in death my peaceful ashes lie,

"If e'er fome tongue congenial speaks my name,

Friendship shall never blush to breathe a figh,

• And great ones envy such an honest fame.'

HYMN TO FORTITUDE.

BY THOMAS BLACKLOCK, D. D.

NIGHT, brooding o'er her mute domain,

In aweful filence wraps her reign:

Clouds prefs on clouds; and, as they rife,
Condense to folid gloom the skies.
Portentous, thro' the foggy air,
To wake the dæmon of Despair,
The raven hoarfe, and boding owl,
To Hecate curs'd anthems howl.
Intent, with execrable art,

To burn the veins, and tear the heart,
The witch, unhallow'd bones to raise,
Through funeral vaults and charnels ftrays;
Calls the damn'd fhades from ev'ry cell,
And adds new labours to their hell.

And, fhield me, Heav'n! what hollow found,
Like Fate's dread knell, runs echoing round?
The bell ftrikes one, that magick hour,
When rifing fiends exert their power;
And now, fure now, fome caufe unblefs'd
Breathes more than horror thro' my breaft.
How deep the breeze! how dim the light!
What spectres fwim before my fight!
My frozen limbs pale Terror chains,
And in wild eddies wheels my brains
My icy blood forgets to roll,
And Death e'en feems to feize my foul.

What