10

New powers of vision on the eye descend,
As distant mountains from their bases bend,
Lean forward from their seats, to court the view,
While melt their soften'd tints in vivid blue.
But fairer still, at midnight's shadowy reign,
When liquid silver floods the moonlight plain,
And lawns, and fields, and woods of varying hue,
Drink the wan lustre, and the pearly dew;
While the still landscape, more than noontide bright,
Glistens with mellow tints of fairy light.

Yet, sure, these pastoral beauties ne'er can vie, With those, which fondly rise to Memory's eye, When, absent long, my soul delights to dwell On scenes in early youth she lov'd so well. 'Tis fabling Fancy, with her radiant hues, That gilds the modest scenes which Memory views; And softer, finer tints she loves to spread, For which we search in vain the daisied mead, In vain the grove, the rivulet's mossy cell

"Tis the delusive charm of Fancy's spell.