Page:The dispensary - a poem in six canto's (sic) (IA b30356775).pdf/103

 In vain th'unhappy Ghost still urg'd his Stay; Then rising from the Ground, he shew'd the Way.

Nigh the dull Shoar a shapeless Mountain stood, That with a dreadful Frown survey'd the Flood. Its fearful Brow no lively Greens put on, No frisking Goats bound o'er the ridgy Stone. To gain the Summit the bright Goddess try'd, And Celsus follow'd, by degrees, his Guide.

Th'Ascent thus conquer'd, now they tow'r on high, And taste th'Indulgence of a milder Sky. Loose Breezes on their airy Pinions play, Soft Infant Blossoms their chast Odours pay; And Roses blush their fragrant Lives away. Cool Streams thro' flow'ry Meadows gently glide; And as They pass, their painted Banks they chide. These blissful Plains no Blights, nor Mildews fear, The Flow'rs ne'er fade, and Shrubs are Myrtles here. The Morn awakes the Tulip from her Bed; E'er Noon in painted Pride she decks her Head: Roab'd in rich Dye she triumphs on the Green, And ev'ry Flow'r does Homage to their Queen. So when bright Venus rises from the Flood, Around in Throngs the wond'ring Nereids crowd; The Tritons gaze, and tune each vocal Shell, And ev'ry Grace unsung, the Waves conceal.

The Delegate observes, with wond'ring Eyes, Ambrosial Dews descend, and Incense rise. Then hastens onward to the pensive Grove, The silent Mansion of disastrous Love. Here