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Contrasted with the graceful form of her, 165

The Trojan captive,* who with eyes uprais'd

Sat fix'd to marble near him.—Mournful now

The trav'ller sheds a tear upon thy fall,

And views the wild goat brouse where warriors kept

The midnight watch, hears the lone shepherd's pipe I 70

Where martial symphonies sounded the charge

Of battle; and beholds recumbent flocks

Pressing the dust where kindred monarchs sleep

Beneath the sepulchre's majestic dome.

This was the land of heroes; ev'ry spot 175 Still bears the footsteps of a mighty race Swept from the earth. These walls and ruin'd tow'rs, Cyclopian fabric, whose least block appears As riv'n by wintry torrents and by winds From the huge precipice, proclaim the work 180 Of an heroic age, and to the mind Incredulous, confirm what bards have sung Of rocks by warriors hurl'd, and lances driven Th ro' seven-fold shields by their unwearied arms. Whilst we, the progeny of pigmy sires, 185 Who faint with toil and languish with disease,

* Cassandra.

If sultrier suns or fiercer blasts assail

Our limbs, unharden'd by athletic toil,

Hear of such deeds with wonder, nor believe

A tale which brands us with a mark of shame. 190

So many years have pass'd since first the pipe Of Pastoral Simplicity was heard; And that long interval has been so stain'd With crimes, so blotted with deformities Of pestilence, of famine, and of war; 195 Our moral sense has been so dull'd by time, And by the rude attrition of the world, That the fond tales which Poesy has left Of rural innocence and earthly bliss, Seem dreams of Fancy; yet could we believe 200 The pleasing tale that such an age has been, And that Felicity once dwelt on earth With man, 'twas here she rais'd her rustic shed, Here 'midst the blooming vales of Arcady.

And we will often pause amidst her vales, - 205

And with our oaten reed resound the charms
Of fair Arcadia, till the peeping Fauns
And uncouth Satyrs, raise their pointed ears

To listen to our song, and mighty Pan

Snatch from the oaken bough, which dark imbrowns 210

His cool retreat of cave and dripping rock,

The rural pipe, and join our simple lay.

Haste we along, the breezes sleep, the sky

Is now suffus'd with ev'ning's softest tints

Of red and orange, green and silv'ry gray, 215

Melting in floods of amber. Calm the air

Wafts thousand odours from each thymy field,

And woodbine bow'r, and bank with roses fring'd.

Wide glows the valley broken into knoll

And hillock, whose enamell'd sides are wrought 220

With flow'ry-tissued web of ev'ry hue,

Lily and violet, and iris wreath'd

With hyacinth. Down ev'ry slope, close copse

Of arbutus luxuriates, clust'ring thick

Its crimson berries 'midst its yellow leaves, 22 5

Like rubies chas'd in gold; more sombre waves

The myrtle its dusk leaves, and on our path

Show'rs spangled flowrets; round each jutting crag,

Pomegranate twin'd with oleander, form

Light shade of cool recess, the fabled haunt 230 Of sylvan Deities; and overhead

The stately growth of ilex and of plane,

And oak coeval with the rural age

Of Innocence. Where their disparting boughs

Shew wider prospect, sunny lawns are seen, 23 5

And level downs, o'er which the shepherd boy,

In antique garment clad, with sandall'd foot

Follows his flocks with crook and rustic pipe,

Breathing his untaught lays. More distant swell

The azure mountains, mingling with the skies, 240

Not ridg'd in gloomy peaks, but heaving high,

In graceful undulation, their broad crests,

And wood-encinctur d bosoms. Rivers roll

Their sinuous course, now with a silver light

Glitt'ring, now pouring their brown streams beneath 245

The shade of pendent boughs, or ruin'd walls

Of ancient towns; or darker still engulph'd

In narrow glens, o'er rock and mossy stone

Dashing their waters with a mournful sound.

Their murmurs join'd with the low hum of bees, 250

The bark of watch-dog, and the past'ral reed

Of shepherd, in the distant valley heard,

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