"Pale, o'er the field of carnage rise the dead, "And mutter curses on my guilty head,

"And gleamy shapes, in youth's luxuriance slain,
"Point to the gash that stretch'd them on the plain;
"Hated by all, alone, and sad I go

"To seek repose and friendship from a foe.”
He ceas'd-and swifter o'er the heights he flew,
Till Ida's verdant summits wav'd in view.
Then far around he cast his eyes, to find
Some shepherd, forester, or labouring hind.
Chang'd from a prince, in peasant weeds array'd,
He might perhaps deceive his mountain maid.
But rude the leathern frock which now he sought,
Unlike the garb by fond Enone wrought,
Not such the crook that in her grots and bow'rs
The smiling nymph adorn'd with wreaths of flow'rs,
But more unlike the princely shepherd's mind,
Where long remorse had left a sting behind.
And now he enters on the silent wild,
And hails the scenes remember'd from a child,
The grots and caverns of the nymphs, that pour
Their brawling waters down the mountain hoar,

"The grots and caverns of the nymphs"From CRINAGORAS.

The cool abodes beneath each frowning steep,
Where woodland gods their peaceful pleasures keep,
The melancholy oaks, and thick retreats
From sultry noon-the rude and stony seats,
He hails-but onward fairer scenes expand,
The sights and sounds of that enchanted land.
Mild streaks of lustre paint the skies, the gales
Full of sweet noises die along the vales;
Curl'd by their wanton breath the streamlet flow'd-
Wild fragrance floated round the blest abode,
From Spring's gay wardrobe all profusely flung,
Of herbs, and shrubs, and blossoms ever young;
And as he pass'd along, the herds around
Heedless lay stretch'd and sleeping on the ground:
Unus'd the herdsman's angry goad to feel,

They slept secure, nor fear'd the murderous steel,
But fruits with honey form'd the simple board,
Only their annual fleece the flocks afford.
Peace breath'd o'er all-and on the velvet green
In frolic sport were groups of Oreads seen:

Some charm'd the air with music strange and sweet,
Some wove the dance with light fantastic feet,
These from the musk-rose blend a liquid bloom,
Or from the rifled woodbine bear perfume,
These in light buskins brush the glittering dew,
Or chase the playful pard and bend the twanging yew.
Some on the bank where Xanthus roll'd his streams
In golden slumbers lay and heav'nly dreams;

While some. Tistr

Of man's weak de a
Or musing man Tere I
His giant, nicht mi

On bloody fees tot ama
Our griefs how m

While they

For ever patio ar

Their sense 22 3 1

Of step propcate

Sounds from 201

Above, bek. DIY reg
Or'mid the forest LAI TEL. S
The nymphs of VAT L SVC CHOC
And bid the streZTE FOR SETS
Around his steps the ba

But from the guilty mga ale nei
As on he went, with fear ar mu
Full on the lovely mait te 2: 11
Remote from men, for manu
Grace of the woods, to In the s
Bright was her eye-ber c

Was flush'd—her bosom was wa
And her fair ringlets in di

A panther's hide was o'er

Sylvan attire-about her ga

Her huntress' arms, the quiver, so a ce

The cool abodes beneath each frowning steep,
Where woodland gods their peaceful pleasures keep,
The melancholy oaks, and thick retreats
From sultry noon-the rude and stony seats,
He hails-but onward fairer scenes expand,
The sights and sounds of that enchanted land.
Mild streaks of lustre paint the skies, the gales
Full of sweet noises die along the vales;
Curl'd by their wanton breath the streamlet flow'd---
Wild fragrance floated round the blest abode,
From Spring's gay wardrobe all profusely flung,
Of herbs, and shrubs, and blossoms ever young;
And as he pass'd along, the herds around
Heedless lay stretch'd and sleeping on the ground:
Unus'd the herdsman's angry goad to feel,
They slept secure, nor fear'd the murderous steel,
But fruits with honey form'd the simple board,
Only their annual fleece the flocks afford.
Peace breath'd o'er all-and on the velvet green
In frolic sport were groups of Oreads seen:
Some charm'd the air with music strange and sweet,
Some wove the dance with light fantastic feet,
These from the musk-rose blend a liquid bloom,
Or from the rifled woodbine bear perfume,
These in light buskins brush the glittering dew,
Or chase the playful pard and bend the twanging yew.
Some on the bank where Xanthus roll'd his streams
In golden slumbers lay and heav'nly dreams;

While some, retir'd to grot or coral cell,
Of man's weak race and human miseries tell,
Or musing roam where'er the broad oak throws
His giant, mighty, venerable, boughs,

On bloody deeds that human hands imbrue,
Our griefs how many, and our years how few;
While they remain, by partial Heaven's behest,
For ever youthful and for ever blest.

Their sense aërial knew the guilty tread

Of step prophane-in haste the wood-nymphs fled.
Sounds from each hollow oak or sparry cell,
Above, below, upon the breezes swell,

Or 'mid the forest glooms in mournful pausings dwell.
The nymphs of water to their caverns go,
And bid the streams more sorrowfully flow,
Around his steps the beasts no longer play,
But from the guilty mortal slink away.
As on he went, with fear and mix'd delight,
Full on the lovely maid he fix'd his sight.
Remote from men, for man had prov'd untrue,
Grace of the woods, to Ida she withdrew.
Bright was her eye-her cheek with nature's rose
Was flush'd-her bosom white with nature's snows,
And her fair ringlets in disorder hung;

A panther's hide was o'er her shoulder flung,
Sylvan attire about her grot appear

Her huntress' arms, the quiver, bow, and spear.