THE dauntless youth, with heart elate,
Once more essays his chequered fate.
As perils new he boldly tries,
Behold a gathering tempest rise!
Now, all is fearful, all is dark,
Now, forked lightning strikes his bark;
The billowy waves, with angry roar,
Now dash him on a foreign shore.
Insensible he long remains:
At length he wakes to softest strains,
Which, on the rolling floods beneath,
In gentle sounds, symphonious breathe.

'TELL me, sweet youth, why thus is thrown
'Thy gracious form on coasts unknown?
'Ah, heed'st thou not my pitying sigh,
'Euterpe's sister watches near,
'And sheds the tender tear,
'So, may thy deep entrancement fly.
'Waken, arise, and bless ere long
'The PRINCESS of the SILVER SONG !'
'What dulcet notes,' AMANTOR cries,
'My ravished senses now surprise!'
He grateful views a gentle Fair,
Who o'er him bends with anxious care.
Now her full court in chorus join,
And thus chaunt forth, with voice divine:

'HEARS'T thou not the Minstrel's call?
'Haste, O favoured Stranger, haste
'To the sweetly echoing Hall,
'Every joy of SONG to taste,
'Where the Muses ever reign,
'With HERMIONE their Queen.'
With joy the blest ALAMANTOR speeds,
Where'er the tuneful charmer leads.
Fast by the ocean's swelling tide,
The Palace rose in graceful pride;
Each note the inmates thence repeat
On gliding waters sounds more sweet.
A pearly chain the Princess rung
Which to the jasper portal hung;

The slaves obey the silver call,
And welcome to the festive hall,
With grateful verse and dulcet voice,
In her returning sight rejoice.
AMANTOR finds, to these belong
Each word and thought to pour in song.
From humble page to raptured Bard,
Soft Music's note alone is heard.
And he, soon versed in tuneful lays,
The general law with ease obeys.
Thus at the court is carried on
The STATESMAN'S plan, the LOVER'S moan,
The MOURNER'S plaint, the WIT'S address,
The voice of gladness, or distress;
While all in harmony unite,
And novelty augments delight.

Euterpe at each Fête presides:
Now o'er the waves the Pageant glides ,
Gay courtiers, in Gondolas trim,
Along the watery surface skim;
While gentle airs to tender rhyme,
With silver oars, respond in time,
Or warbling flute, with softer lay,
On ocean's bosom dies away.
In spacious hall, or grot, or bower,
Where'er intrudes the Zephyr's power,
The Lyre of Æolus is found,
And breathes its plaintive sweetness round:
While rises near full many a grove
Where feathered tribes delighted rove.
Then would you count each coming hour?
Instructed by the Minstrel's power,

They chaunt them forth in measured strain,
That renders glass or time-piece vain.
At concerts oft, to sounding string
While Bards assembled proudly sing,
HERMIONE'S o'er-ruling will
Commands each bird, with heavenly trill,
His station in the choir to fill.
Then, with their wood-notes not content,
Her deep, attentive care is bent,
To teach them, with unwearied pains,
To sing in scientific strains.
Nor yet melodious throats alone
Her labours and instructions own;
At schools to dull, ungifted fowls,
Harsh-screaming parrots, hooting owls,
And tuneless sparrows, swallows, jays,
She tries to teach enchanting lays;

For plumed masters of the art
Their lessons, diligent, impart:
Yet still these Lords of Harmony
With shame their backward pupils see;
And, spite of all, no swift success
Appears, the Virgin's hopes to bless.
It chanced, while, in the realms of song,
AMANTOR'S hours rolled smooth along,
One morning, at a concert gay,
A tuneful courier forced his way,
With tidings of a warlike Host,
That long had hovered near the coast.
With terror-speaking looks, he cries,
'Behold the hostile Banners rise;
'The bright Battalions, now they form!
'Rouse, rouse, avert the threatening storm!'

For war unmeet, the affrighted court
To brave AMANTOR'S aid resort;
And, trembling, haste, untaught, unarmed,
Their tender Lyres to shields transformed;
While mellow Horn, and Trumpet loud
Sound forth to animate the croud.
Confused and desperate, they engage,
The Prince alone, with noble rage,
Amid the thickest hosts is found,
Diffusing death and terror round.
Pierced by his hand their Leader dies:
So falls their Pride, their Fortune flies!
Delivered from the threatened yoke,
HERMIONE the youth bespoke,
'My life, my realm, to thee I owe,
'Proud Glory's meed awaits thee now.'

A Laurel Wreath, with brilliants mixed,
Upon the Victor's brow she fixed.
Swift through the court a murmur ran,
A Bard, indignant, thus began,
'Sacred to Phoebus and the Nine,
'Profane not thus the leaf divine!
'What glories to the Prince belong?
'Does he excel in harp or song?
'Compared with us, the tender verse
'His lips, untaught, can scarce rehearse.
'What, tho' he shine in honour's field,
'Arms still to polished Arts should yield!'
The Princess, with repentant haste,
The bright reward, ashamed, displaced:
While, with regret and generous pain,
The Hero views the ungrateful train.

Yet, ere from thence he bent his way,
His lingering heart desired to stray,
Each pleasing scene once more to view,
And bid his favourite haunts adieu.
As now, with pensive step, he roved
Through each recess he long had loved,
And, on the Lyre she oft had praised,
With thoughtful eyed absorbed, he gazed,
Entranced by memory's painful spell,
Unheeded, from his hand it fell.
Arising through the trembling strings,
This plaintive strain, low-echoing, rings.
'See, in this fragile frame exprest,
'The emblem of a gentle breast,
'A heart each ruder touch can wound;
'Though injured, broken, hurled to ground,

'No angry sound its chords repeat,
'Its plaints and murmurs e'en are sweet,
'It mourns, but in melodious sighs,
'And, breathing soft vibrations, dies.'
And must I quit this world of sound,
Where Music's charm prevails around,
And ever-varying Harmony,
With sweet expression's powers agree?
Where things inanimate impart
A soothing lesson to the heart?
Yes- for amid these heavenly strains
Injustice triumphs, Envy reigns!
Now at each step new wonders rise,
That pleasure give, or win surprise,
For not in pride of SONG alone,
This Palace all domains outshone,

But rich and varied store could boast
Of treasures bright from every coast.
In chambers vast, preserved with care,
Were Art and Nature's wonders rare.
These, unremarked in happier days,
The wanderer now well-pleased surveys.
Thus oft gay Fortune's smile conceals
The treasured good that woe reveals,
The new resource, the bliss untried,
O'erlooked in joy's abundant tide.
Affliction! 'tis thy mournful hour,
Unveils sweet Friendship's soothing power:
Affliction! 'tis thy harsh controul
Awakes from sloth, the aspiring soul.
Mysterious power, to thee we owe
Each higher joy we taste below.

A cabinet, with gems enchased,
Whate'er had charmed before effaced,
An emerald key new treasures opes,
That e'en exceed his splendid hopes.
Whate'er on earth, or under ground,
Most curious, or most rich is found,
Of marble, shell, or shining spar,
Or work of matchless art, was there.
Now, gently sounding on his ears,
The voice of sad lament he hears.
'WHEN cheerly laughs the morning,
'And decks with vernal roses
'The portals she uncloses
'To life and new-born light,
'Then, Sloth's indulgence scorning,

'The forest's shaggy ranger,
'And beauteous feathered stranger,
'In freedom's joys delight.
But, no such bliss adorning
'This dark abode of anguish,
'A captive sad I languish
'In sorrow's endless night.'
These sounds, to his attentive ear,
Arising from a box appear,
With ivory's richest carving traced:
The lid a lovely portrait graced;
But different beauties centered there,
Than decked HERMIONE the Fair.
The Sapphic fire, the raptured look,
Where all the soul of genius spoke;

The cheek of ever-varying glow,
The smiles, that darting radiance throw,
The trembling lustre of the eye,
Bedewed with thrilling extacy,
This could not claim; a milder grace
Sat in this dove-like eye, and marked the gentle face.
'Oh, why, ye Fates!' AMANTOR cried,
'The fair one's name and story hide?'-
And now the plaint, so soft and sweet,
The voice he hears again repeat.
'Concealed within, some secret lies:'-
The opening lid in haste he tries.
That touched, a second box arose,
Which, oped, a third in order shows,
A fourth did this in turn disclose.
As he his anxious search pursued,
A hundred he successive viewed;

Each carved with exquisite design,
Of ivory to transparence fine.
The hundredth box so small appeared,
That e'en his constant mind despaired.
'This sure no treasure could contain.'
Lo, now again, with sorrowing strain,
But louder note, more clear and strong,
Is heard the hidden Mourner's song.
Once more the casket he essays,
The yielding spring at length betrays,
As at his touch it swift unlocks,
The CAPTIVE of the tiny BOX .
No charms he there must hope to find,
Like those upon the lid designed.
A form minute, of fairy mould,
Though chearful, silver-haired and old,

While she his kind assistance blessed,
Her young deliverer thus addressed.
'The victim of officious zeal,
'What pains have I been doomed to feel!
'The Fairy DISTAFF is my name.
'I scorn the Muse's vaunting claim;
'And fain my votaries would invite,
'To Industry's more calm delight.
'Know, thoughtless Youth, while here you dwell
'The beauteous Syren's train to swell,
'In smiling realms, not distant far,
'Benignly reigns a sister star.
'One hour, one parent, viewed their birth,
'But, ah! how different their worth!
'While gay HERMIONE employs
'Her hours in Music's empty joys,

'Bright EGLANTINE her time beguiles
'In sweetly-varied female toils,
'And loves, though blest with beauty's bloom,
'The purple labours of the loom,
'Their dying sire's paternal care
'To each bequeathed dominions fair,
'In minds thus formed of various mould,
'Love soon to mere Indifference cooled.
'HERMIONE , thy charming art
'From friendship's claim had stolen thy heart.
'Not so fair EGLANTINE , whose breast
'A sweet remembrance still confessed.
'The Limner's art, the rich design,
'To deck the casket all combine,
'The tender gift, with which she strove
'Once more to light a sister's love.

'Long had report proclaimed her fame:
'Her soft enthusiasm to reclaim,
'Within this case I forced my way,
'And, thus concealed, was borne away;
'My friendly visit and design
'Unknown to beauteous EGLANTINE.
'But, ah! how unforeseen my lot!
'The pleasing gift, o'erlooked, forgot,
'While SONG engrossed the owner's mind,
'Was to this cabinet consigned.
'This cabinet, which former reigns
'Had long adorned, by well-timed pains,
'With all the curious loved or prized,
'Is now disdained, unmarked, despised.
'For, when too long the partial mind
'To one pursuit remains inclined,

'(Though innocent itself the aim)
'It soon absorbs each other claim;
'And every duty, every joy
'Is banished for the loved employ.
'Meantime impatient tears I shed,
'Imprisoned in my ivory bed.
'Though in a sad, ill-omened hour,
'I entered here by fairy power,
'No fairy power could set me free;
'(That, gentle Prince, remained for thee)
'Some outward touch the spring must ope.
'Light, Freedom, renovated Hope
'To you I owe, and in return
'Her sweet abode you soon shall learn,
'Whom each admiring Stranger calls
'The PRINCESS of the IVORY HALLS .'

Fired with the unknown charmer's praise,
The Prince the fairy call obeys.
He follows swift her beckoning hand,
That leads him to the sea-girt strand.
'Behold our bark!' with joy she cries.
The Prince desponding, sad replies,
'No welcome vessel here I view!'
'Ah, doubting Youth, believe me true!
'Observe yon Nautilus's shell,
'Which soon my magic breath shall swell.'
Swift, as the mystic word she said,
The tiny sail begins to spread.
The curious parts by turns enlarge,
Till shines complete a sumptuous barge,
And, wafted by the gentle breeze,
They gaily cut the smiling seas.