As down the circling wave they glide,
Thus spoke at length the Elfin guide:
'My friend, behold the favoured coast,
'Where every care in bliss is lost,
'Where Peace presides, where Plenty smiles,
'And Labour carols while she toils,
'Where Royal Virtues mild dispense
'Their sweet and gracious influence.'
Now, every watery peril o'er,
With grateful heart he hails the shore,
And, rising soon of purest white,
The IVORY PALACE meets his sight.

There Emblems Fair of Industry
Salute the admiring stranger's eye.
Here, carved with skill, the GRECIAN WIFE ,
Amid contending suitors' strife,
Still o'er the mystic web depends,
That, oft unravelled, never ends.
ARACHNE , there, her labours shows,
Ere yet MINERVA'S wrath she knows.
The GODDESS here HERSELF presides,
Each flaxen fibre dextrous guides,
Inventress of the useful art,
The pleasing gift she deigns impart.
In ivory, preserved to Fame,
Then rose the faithful TROJAN DAME ,
Who, while she weeps her HECTOR'S doom,
Records his glories in the loom.

With tears, where joy and friendship blend,
Greets EGLANTINE her fairy friend;
Nor less with welcome, honours she
The Prince, who gave her liberty.
Not long within her realms he stayed,
When, as along the coast they strayed,
A distant vessel meets their eye;
Its near approach they now descry;
And now, the expanse of ocean past,
Its anchor near the shore is cast.
But what compassion, what surprise
In EGLANTINE'S soft bosom rise,
When, with the suppliant's tearful eye,
Approached the sad HERMIONE !
At length her woes their prison break:
'I come, your pity to bespeak,

'Driven from my realm by ruthless foes;-
'No farther can I now disclose.'
She said- and faint with toil and grief,
In showery tears finds short relief.
'Mysterious Heaven!' the Virgin cries,
'Is it thus my sister meets my eyes?
'Ah! long unkind, but ever loved!
'Soon to my friendly dome removed,
'A sister's heart, a sister's care,
'HERMIONE , awaits you there.'
Not distant far, in snowy state,
Arose the IVORY PALACE gate.
But who regards the storied pile,
The rare design, the artist's toil,
When, to the feeling heart, a scene
More precious far awaits within?

Where all the gentle triumph see
Of Friendship's fond fidelity,
Where joyful angels might approve,
The picture sweet of kindred love,
And bless the sacrifice divine
Of Anger at Affection's shrine
When Welcome kind, when sweet Repose
Have eased the lovely Mourner's woes,
Soft through each heart her accents steal,
And thus her tale of grief reveal-
'Not long had cold Injustice driven
'Far from my court the Approved of Heaven,
'Him, whose protecting arm alone
'Could yet have propped my tottering throne,
'When, with redoubled numbers, rose
'Again my fierce Barbarian foes.

'Without or Counsellor or Friend,
'My Life, my Empire to defend,
'In vain, to yield me feeble aid,
'My gentle slaves around me bled.
'At length the proud, triumphant foe
'With burning brands my bowers laid low.
' 'Twas then, to power, to glory lost,
'With tears I sought your friendly coast.
'Yet do not I deserve to share
'The soft regards that met me there!'
Sweet EGLANTINE , with tender smiles,
Her fruitless anguish, fond, beguiles.
The weeping fair, no longer proud
Of genius, or of charms allowed,
By flattering slaves no more caressed,
Finds solace in a SISTER'S breast.

And while to charm her cares away,
Each art would EGLANTINE essay,
She in AMANTOR'S eyes a star
Shines forth of purer lustre far,
And sympathy a sweeter grace
Diffuses o'er her lovely face,
Than all, that tempts the world's acclaim,
Of beauty bright, or laurelled fame.
Nor yet, with soothing words alone,
She cheers the plaintive sufferer's moan,
But with effectual aid would fain
Restore her to her realms again.
Forth she dispatched her duteous bands,
Beneath AMANTOR'S brave commands;
Within whose generous bosom lies
No thought of former injuries.

Oh! then, throughout the tuneful reign,
How soon does hope revive again!
How quickly learns the foe to fly,
Beneath AMANTOR'S threatening eye!
With tidings gay, of conquest fraught,
The Prince the IVORY PALACE sought.
'Twas then, from pain and sorrow freed,
Rich with experience' dear-bought meed,
The Princess and her shattered train,
With new-born hopes, now tempt the main,
And, wafted by a prosperous gale,
Again their late lost country hail.
But, ere she sighs a last farewell,
Fond prayers her secret bosom swell,
That Heaven may bless with joys divine
AMANTOR and fair EGLANTINE .

NOW , moving in a different scene,
Though active, calm; though gay, serene;
AMANTOR marks the fair one's toils,
As at her ivory wheel she smiles;
Or, with new pleasure and surprise,
The snowy palace frequent eyes,
Where couch, or throne, or festive board
The same fair objects still afford;
While their light, fragile forms appear
The unwary touch or breath to fear,
And ever call for care and thought,
When cheer invites, or rest is sought.
Nor does he long delay to find,
That EGLANTINE'S o'er-anxious mind,
Each precious moment she can spare
From tissued web, or tapestry rare,

Is fixed to guard, with watchful eyes,
Each delicate, and beauteous prize.
And, as the bow, by long restraint,
More swift regains its wonted bent,
So she, in whose soft, pitying heart,
Sweet Friendship's claim had stolen a part
From all her loved, domestic cares,
The forced neglect with haste repairs;
And thence, in joys minute engrossed,
To every other charm is lost.
No more in her he hopes to find
Congenial taste, or kindred mind;
And oft remembrance now recalls
Her tuneful Sister's VOCAL HALLS .
The wandering thought he strove to hide
The fair, in sportive guise, would chide.

'Describe the pleasures, that belong
'Peculiar, to the REALMS of SONG .'
Thus spoke the half-offended maid
How well, how soon, was she obeyed!
And, while AMANTOR would declare
What soft delights enslaved him there:
Or, with entranced remembrance, dwell
On cadence sweet, or murmuring swell,
By turns enumerating o'er
Each matchless proof of Music's power;
Or as, with fresh enthusiasm fired,
His fancy, by the theme inspired,
Each Muse's pencil seems to bribe
The pleasing picture to describe,
Unmindful of his wonted care,
Heedless he touched a pannel fair,

Where flowrets carved arose to view,
Of various form, but equal hue,
More exquisite than could withstand
The pressure of the incautious hand.
The Prince the havoc soon surveyed,
When low, a lovely wreck, was laid,
Shivered, defaced in many a part,
The frail, the beauteous boast of art!
With deepest woe's sad piercing moan,
The maid laments her treasure gone;
Reproaches, tears, by turns prevail,
By turns the offending youth assail.
Those trembling pearls, that wont to deck
With Pity's charm her blooming cheek,
He marks, indignant, as they fall
At Selfish Sorrow's trifling call.

'Alas, a heart like hers (he cries)
'To noble aims can seldom rise!
'A temper, by each transient blast
'So easy ruffled and o'ercast,
'A vainly busy, female mind,
'To petty joys and cares confined,
'No higher, dearer pleasures moves!-
'I leave her to the gauds she loves:
'And seek where, in PERFECTION bright,
'SOFTNESS and ENERGY unite.'