Tell me, ye maidens fair and wise,
Who joy in Nature's loveliness,
What forms, what hues in earth or skies
Doth Beauty most delight to bless?
Comes she on Autumn's sounding wing,
Or on the frolic breath of Spring?

Dwells she beneath that banner bright
That o'er the car of Morning streams,
Or trembling in the wan moonlight
When faint the rose of Evening gleams?
Kindles her eye with Hope's full blaze,
Or melts in Memory's lingering gaze?

If right I guess, our hearts beguiling,
By turns she pours her fairy glance,
Now in Regret all sadly smiling,
Now fix'd in Faith's prophetic trance:
Still luring us to heaven, our home,
By bliss gone by, or bliss to come
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