XXXVIII.

'But ah! the Historic Muse has never dared 'To pierce those hallowed bowers: 'tis Fancy's beam, 'Poured on the vision of the enraptured Bard, 'That paints the charms of that delicious theme. 'Then hail sweet Fancy's ray! and hail the dream 'That weans the weary soul from guilt and woe! 'Careless what others of my choice may deem, 'I long where Love and Fancy lead to go, 'And meditate on heaven; enough of earth I know.'