Bright-eyed Fancy, hov'ring o'er, Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe and words that burn.

And moody madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.

Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, Beneath the good how far,-but far above the great.

Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields beloved in vain! Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow A momentary bliss bestow.

E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.

We frolic while 'tis May.

Youth smiles without any reason. It is one of its chiefest charms.