When the dew wets its leaves; unftain'd and pure,

As is the lily, or the mountain fnow.

The modeft virtues mingled in her eyes,
Still on the ground dejected, darting all
Their humid beams into the blooming flowers:
Or when the mournful tale her mother told,
Of what her faithless fortune promis'd once,
Thrill'd in her thought, they, like the dewy star
Of evening, fhone in tears. A native grace
Sat fair-proportion'd on her polish'd limbs,
Veil'd in a fimple robe, their best attire,
Beyond the pomp of drefs; for loveliness
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament,
But is when unadorn'd adorn'd the most.
Thoughtless of beauty, fhe was beauty's felf,
Reclufe amid the close-embowering woods.
As in the hollow breast of Appenine,
Beneath the fhelter of encircling hills,
A myrtle rifes, far from human eye,
And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild:
So flourish'd blooming, and unseen by all,
The fweet LAVINIA; till, at length, compell'd
By ftrong Neceffity's fupreme command,
With fmiling patience in her looks,, fhe went
To glean PALEMON's fields. The pride of fwains

PALEMON was, the generous, and the rich;
Who led the rural life in all its joy
And elegance, fuch as Arcadian fong
Tranfmits from ancient uncorrupted times;
When tyrant custom had not shackled Man,
But free to follow Nature was the mode.
He then, his fancy with autumnal fcenes
Amufing, chanc'd befide his reaper-train
To walk, when poor LAVINIA drew his eye;
Unconscious of her power, and turning quick
With unaffected blushes from his
gaze:
He saw her charming, but he faw not half
The charms her downcaft modesty conceal'd.
That very moment love and chafte defire
Sprung in his bofom, to himself unknown;
For ftill the world prevail'd, and its dread laugh,
Which scarce the firm philofopher can scorn,
Should his heart own a gleaner in the field;
And thus in fecret to his foul he figh'd.
"What pity! that fo delicate a form,

By beauty kindled, where enlivening fenfe "And more than vulgar goodness seem to dwell, "Should be devoted to the rude embrace "Of fome indecent clown! She looks, methinks, "Of old ACASTO's line; and to my mind

"Recalls that patron

of my happy life,

"From whom my liberal fortune took its rife ; "Now to the duft gone down; his houses, lands, "And once fair-fpreading family, diffolv'd. ""Tis faid that in fome lone obfcure retreat, "Urg'd by remembrance fad, and decent pride, "Far from those scenes which knew their better days, "His aged widow and his daughter live, "Whom yet my fruitless search could never find. "Romantic wifh! would this the daughter were!" When, ftrict enquiring, from herself he found She was the fame, the daughter of his friend, Of bountiful ACASTO; who can speak The mingled paffions that furpriz'd his heart, And through his nerves in fhivering transport ran? Then blaz'd his fmother'd flame, avow'd, and bold; And as he view'd her, ardent, o'er and o'er, Love, gratitude, and pity, wept at once. Confus'd, and frighten'd at his fudden tears, Her rifing beauties flush'd a higher bloom, As thus PALEMON, paffionate and juft, Pour'd out the pious rapture of his foul.

"And art thou then ACASTO's dear remains "She, whom my restless gratitude has fought, "So long in vain? O heavens! the very same,

“The softened image of my noble friend, “Alive his every look, his every feature,

"More elegantly touch'd.

Sweeter than Spring! "Thou fole furviving bloffom from the root "That nourish'd up my fortune! Say, ah where, "In what fequefter'd defert, haft thou drawn "The kindest aspect of delighted HEAVEN? "Into fuch beauty spread, and blown so fair; "Tho' poverty's cold wind, and crushing rain, "Beat keen, and heavy, on thy tender years? "O let me now, into a richer foil,

"Transplant thee safe! where vernal funs, and showers, "Diffuse their warmeft, largest influence; "And of my garden be the pride, and joy! "Ill it befits thee, oh it ill befits

"ACASTO's daughter, his whofe open ftores, "Tho' vaft, were little to his ample heart, "The father of a country, thus to pick "The very refuse of those harvest-fields, "Which from his bounteous friendship I enjoy. "Then throw that shameful pittance from thy hand, "But ill-apply'd to fuch a rugged task;

"The fields, the master, all, my fair, are thine;

"If to the various bleffings which thy house

"Has on me lavish'd, thou wilt add that bliss,
"That dearest blifs, the power of bleffing thee!"
Here ceas'd the youth: yet ftill his fpeaking eye
Exprefs'd the facred triumph of his foul,
With conscious virtue, gratitude, and love,
Above the vulgar joy divinely rais'd.

Nor wanted he reply. Won by the charm
Of goodness irresistible, and all

In fweet diforder lost, she blush'd confent.
The news immediate to her mother brought,
While, pierc'd with anxious thought, she pin'd away
The lonely moments for LAVINIA's fate;

Amaz❜d, and scarce believing what she heard,
Joy feiz'd her wither'd veins, and one bright gleam
Of setting life fhone on her evening-hours:
Not lefs enraptur'd than the happy pair;
Who flourish'd long in tender blifs, and rear'd
A numerous offspring, lovely like themselves,
And good, the grace of all the country round.
Defeating oft the labours of the year,
The fultry fouth collects a potent blast.
At first, the groves are scarcely feen to ftir
Their trembling tops; and a still murmur runs
Along the foft-inclining fields of corn.
But as the aërial tempeft fuller fwells,