Nor bound am I in Habit’s unfelt chain,
Which o’er the fancy steals with gradual pow’r,
Till local sympathy awakes in pain,
That slept unconscious till the parting hour.
But ’tis the charm, so great, yet undefin’d,
That Nature’s self around fair Naples throws,
Which now excites and elevates the mind,
And now invites it to no dull repose.
No exhalations damp the spirits choke,
That feed on ether temp’rate and serene;
No yellow fogs, or murky clouds of smoke,
Obscure the lustre of this joyous scene.
The God of Gladness with prolific ray
Bids the rich soil its teeming womb expand,
While healthful breezes, cooled with Ocean’s spray,
Scatter a dewy freshness o’er the land.
No mountain billow’s huge uplifted crest
Lashes the foaming beach with sullen roar;
The smooth sea sparkles in unbroken rest,
Or lightly rakes upon the pebbled shore.
The Ocean’s Monarch on these golden sands
Seems the luxurious laws of Love to own,[2]
And yield his trident to Thalassia’s hands,
To rule the waters from the Baian throne.
Here the green olive, and the purple vine,
The lofty poplar and the elm espouse,
Or round the mulberry their tendrils twine,
Or creep in clusters through the ilex boughs.
A thousand flow’rs, enamelling the fields,
Declare the presence of returning spring;
A various harvest smiling Ceres yields,
And all the groves with vocal music sing.
Earth, air, and sea th’ enchantment of the clime,
Revived that young elation of the breast
When Hope, undaunted, saw the form of Time
In Fancy’s gay, deluding colours drest,
And though those visions are for ever fled
Which in the morning of existence rose,
And all the false and flatt’ring hopes are dead
That vainly promised a serener close.