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Oh, lead her timid ſteps to yonder glade,

Whoſe arching chfts depending alders ſhade;

"There,* as meck Evening wakes her.temperate breeze,

And moon-beams glimmer through the trembling

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The rills, that gurgle round, ſhall ſooth her ear, Phe weeping rocks ſhall number tear for tear; There as ſad Philomel, alike forlorn,

Sings to the Night from her accuſtomed thorn; While at ſweet intervals each falling note

vSighs in the gale, and whiſpers round the grot!; The fiſter-woe ſhall calm her aching breaſt,

And ſofter Numbers ſteal ber cares to reſt.=-

« Winds of the North! reſtrain Your icy gales, Nor chill the boſom of theſe happy vales! 4.0 Hence in dark heaps, ye gathering Clouds, revolve!

Diſperſe, ye Lightnings! and, ye Niſts, diflolve!

proje&ting rocks, from the edges of which trickles a perpetual ſhower of water; and it is here repreſented as adapted to love ſcenes, as being thence a proper reſidence for the modern god- deſs of Botany, and the eaſier to introduce the next poem on the Loves of the Plants according to the ſyſiem of Linneus,

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