Through the calm air the melting numbers float,
And wanton echo lengthens every note.
Soon, through the dome, a mingled hum arose,
Like a swift stream that o'er a valley flows;
Now louder still it grew, and still more loud,
As distant thunder breaks the bursting cloud:
Through the four portals rush'd a various throng,
That like a wintry torrent pour'd along :
A crowd, of every tongue and every hue,
Toward the bright throne, with eager rapture, flew. A lovely stripling step'd before the rest
With hasty pace, and toward the goddess prest;
His mien was graceful, and his looks were mild,
And in his eye celestial sweetness smil'd;
Youth's purple glow, and beauty's rosy beam,
O'er his smooth cheeks diffus'd a lively gleam;
The floating ringlets of his musky hair
Wav'd on the bosom of the wanton air:
With modest grace, the goddess he addrest,
And, thoughtless, thus prefer'd his fond request.
'Queen of the world! whose wide-extended sway, Gay youth, firm manhood, and cold age, obey, Grant me, while life's fresh blooming roses smile, The day with varied pleasures to beguile;
Let me on beds of dewy flowers réclinė,
And quaff, with glowing lips, the sparkling wine;
Grant me to feed on beauty's rifled charms,
And clasp a willing damsel in my arms;
Her bosom, fairer than a hill of snow,
And gently bounding like a playful roe;
Her lips, more fragrant than the summer air;
And sweet as Scythian musk, her hyacinthine hair;
Let new delights each dancing hour employ,
Sport follow sport, and joy succeed to joy.'
The goddess grants the simple youth's request,
And, mildly, thus accosts her lovely guest:
On that smooth mirror, full of magic light,
Awhile, dear Maia, fix thy wandering sight.'
She looks; and in th' enchanted crystal sees
A bower o'er-canopied with tufted trees:
The wanton stripling lies beneath the shade;
And, by his side, reclines a blooming maid;
O'er her fair limbs a silken mantle flows,
Through which her youthful beauty softly glows,
And, part conceal'd and part disclos'd to ́sight,
Through the thin texture casts a ruddy light;
As the ripe clusters of the mantling vine
Beneath the verdant foliage, faintly shine;
And, fearing to be view'd by envious day,
Their glowing tints unwillingly display.
The youth, while joy sits sparkling in his eyes,
Pants on her neck, and on her bosom dies;
From her smooth cheek nectareous dew he sips,
And all his soul comes breathing to his lips.
But Maia turns her modest eyes away,
And blushes to behold their amorous play.
She looks again; and sees, with sad surprize,
On the clear glass far different scenes arise:
The bower, which late outshone the rosy morn,
O'erhung with weeds she saw, and rough with thorn;
With sting of asps, the leafless plants were wreath'd;
And curling adders gales of venom breath'd:
Low sat the stripling on the faded ground;
And, in a mournful knot, his arms were bound;
His eyes, that shot before a sunny beam,
Now scarcely shed a saddening, dying gleam,
Faint as a glimm'ring taper's wasted light,
Or a dull ray that streaks the cloudy night:
His crystal vase was on the pavement roll'd,
And from the bank was fall'n his cup of gold;
From which, th' envenom'd dregs of deadly hue
Flow'd on the ground, in streams of baleful dew,
And, slowly stealing through the wither'd bow'r,
Poison'd each plant, and blasted every flow'r:
Fled were his slaves, and fled his yielding fair,
And each gay phantom was dissolv'd in air;
Whilst in their place was left a ruthless train,
Despair, and grief, remorse, and raging pain.
Aside the damsel turns her weeping eyes,
And sad reflections in her bosom rise;
To whom thus, mildly, speaks the radiant queen:
Take sage example from this moral scene;
See! how vain pleasures sting the lips they kiss,
How asps are hid beneath the bowers of bliss!
Whilst ever fair the flow'r of temperance blows,
Unchang'd her leaf, and without thorn her rose;
Smiling she darts her glittering branch on high,
And spreads her fragrant blossoms to the sky.'
Next, toward the throne she saw a knight* advance; Erect he stood, and shook a quiv'ring lance;
A fiery dragon on his helmet shone;
And on his buckler beam'd a golden sun;
O'er his broad bosom, blaz'd his jointed mail
With many a gem, and many a shining scale;
He trod the sounding floor with princely mien,
And thus with haughty words address'd the queen:
'Let falling kings beneath my javelin bleed,
And bind my temples with a victor's meed;
Let every realm that feels the solar ray,
Shrink at my frown, and own my regal sway:
Let Ind's rich banks proclaim my deathless fame,
And trembling Ganges dread my potent name.'
The queen consented to the warrior's pray'r;
And his bright banners floated in the air;
He bade his darts in steely tempests fly,
Flames burst the clouds, and thunder shakes the sky;
Death aim'd his lance, earth trembled at his nod,
And crimson conquest glow'd where'er he trod.
And now, the damsel, fix'd in deep amaze,
Th' enchanted glass with eager look surveys:
She sees the hero in his dusky tent,
His guards retir'd, his glimm'ring taper spent ;
His spear, vain instrument of dying praise,
On the rich floor, with idle state, he lays;
His gory falchion near his pillow stood,
And stain'd the ground with drops of purple blood;
A busy page his nodding helm unlac'd,
And on the couch his scaly hauberk plac'd :
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