The seasons. In four books. : With Britannia. / By James Thomson. ; To which are added the following pieces, I. Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, by Mr. Pope. II. Alexander's Feast, or The power of musick, by Mr. Dryden. III. Ode on solitude, by Mr. Pope. IV. The dying Christian to his soul, an ode, by the same. V. The universal prayer, by the same. VI. Elegy, to the memory of an unfortunate lady, by the same. VII. Veni creator spiritus, translated in paraphrase, by Mr. Dryden. ; To which is prefixed, the life and literary character of Mr. Thomson. ; Illustrated with a new set of designs.

THE SEASONS. IN FOUR BOOKS. WITH BRITANNIA. BY JAMES THOMSON.

To which are added the following Pieces, I. Ode on St. Cecilia's Day, by Mr. POPE. II Alexander's Feaſt, or the Power of Muſick, by Mr. DRYDEN. III. Ode on Solitude, by Mr POPE. IV. The dying Chriſtian to his Soul, an Ode, by the ſame. V. The Univerſal Prayer, by the ſame. VI. Elegy, to the Memory of an unfortunate Lady, by the ſame. VII. Veni Creator Spirittus, tranſlated in Paraphraſe, by Mr. DRYDEN.

To which is prefixed, The LIFE and LITERARY CHARACTER of Mr. THOMSON.

Illuſtrated with a new Set of DESIGNS

PHILADELPHIA: Pinted for RICE and Co. MARKET-STREET. MDCCLXXXVIII.

To the READER.

THE Methods now purſued in teaching the Engliſh Tongue, are ſuch as give all the Advantages, that formerly could only be acquired by an Acquaintance with the dead Languages; This has raiſed its Value, and brought into Eſteem many of the Productions, and elegant Compoſitions, that have appeared in the Engliſh Language, whoſe Beauties and Value were hitherto, only perceptible to thoſe who had laboured in the learned Languages, or had walked in the Fields of Science.

The preſent Method of teaching the Engliſh Language, adopted in our firſt Schools, where Gentlemen of the moſt claſſical as well as liberal Education preſide, not only leads the Scholar into a proper Knowledge of Grammar, but introduces him to the more polite Parts of Literature, whereby he is inſtructed in Syntax, Proſody, and all the Beauties of Trope and Figure, &c. Theſe, while they refine the Taſte, enlarge the Conception, and ſo improve the Mind, as to fit it for the moſt rational of all Amuſements, that of ſtudying a good Author, entering thoroughly into his Meaning, and as it were imbibing his Spirit. In theſe Purſuits ſome of the moſt admired of the Engliſh Writers, both in Proſe and Verſe, have been introduced into our Schools; whoſe Beauties and Excellencies being firſt laid before the Pupil by his Tutor, he in a little Time becomes capable of himſelf to point them out. And as that Part of THOMSON'S WORKS, which include the SEASONS, is particularly adapted to the Purpoſe, a very correct Edition is here offered, Printed from his laſt Corrections; to which is added his Poem, entitled, BRITANNIA, which breathing the Spirit of true Patriotiſm, Liberty, and Love of Mankind, is peculiarly well calculated for Youth and tender minds; and, as our Author himſelf expreſſes it, —"to rear the tender Thought, To teach the young Idea how to ſhoot, To pour the freſh Inſtruction o'er the Mind, To breathe th' enlivening Spirit, and to fix The generous Purpoſe in the glowing Breaſt." SPRING, 1148. But that this Piece may be ſtill more uſeful, and more fully to anſwer the Deſign, and lead the Youth into a Variety of the pleaſing Paths of Poetry, a Collection of other Pieces are here inſerted, to inſtruct him in the Beauties of an Ode, an Elegy, &c. without raiſing the Purchaſe above the Rate of common School Books.

THE LIFE AND LITERARY CHARACTER OF JAMES THOMSON; Pointing out ſome particular Beauties of the Author for the Uſe of young Minds.

JAMES THOMSON, an eminent Britiſh poet, was the ſon of a Divine in Scotland, and born at Ednam, in the ſhire of Roxburgh, the eleventh of September, 1700. He gave early marks of genius, which was diſcoverable through the rudeneſs of his puerile eſſays; and, after the uſual courſe of ſchool education at J • dburgh, was ſent to the univerſity of Edinburgh. In the ſecond year of his admiſſion, his ſtudies were for ſome time interrupted by the death of his father; but his mother ſoon after repaired with her family, which was very numerous, to Edinburgh, where ſh • lived in a decent frugal manner, till her favourite ſon had not only finiſhed his academical courſe, but was even d • ſtinguiſhed and patronized as a genius. About this time the ſtudy of poetry became pretty general in Scotland, the beſt Engliſh authors being univerſally read, and imitations of them attempted; but taſte as yet had made but little progreſs, cr • ticiſm being there limited to rules and forms, which ſerved only to diſcover the inaccuracies of a poet, while his fire and fancy eſcaped their notice. Thomſon, who believed he was entitled to judges of a more exalted genius, began to turn his views towards London which an accident ſoon after intirely determined him in.

The divinity chair at Edinburgh was then filled by Mr Hamilton, whoſe lectures our author attended ab • ut a year, when in an exerciſe in the pſalm, in which the power and majeſty of God were celebrated, he gave ſo highly poetical and ſublime a paraphraſe and illuſtration, that it ſurprized the whole audience. Mr. Hamilton complimented him on this performance in a particular manner; but at the ſame time told him, in his ſmiles of approbation, that if he expected to be uſeful in the miniſtry, he muſt keep a ſtricter rein upon his imagination, and expreſs himſelf in language more ſuitable to an audience, where the learned and unlearned are equally reſpectable. Thomſon concluded from this, that his expectations from the ſtudy of theology might be precarious, even though the church had been his choice; ſo that, having ſome encouragement from a lady of quality, a friend of his mother, then in London, he quickly prepared for his journey, which ended in no more than giving him an opportunity of entering on the ſtage of the unknown world, without a patron, and but ſparingly provided with caſh.

However, his merit did not lie long concealed. Mr. Forbes, af • erw • rds lord preſi • ent of the ſeſſion, received him very kindly, and introduced him to ſome of his friends, part • cularly to Mr. Aickman, whoſe premature death he has with great affection commemorated, • n a copy of verſes written on that occaſion. The favourable manner in which he was every where received, emboldened him to riſk the publicat • on of his Winter, in March • 726, which wa • no ſooner read than univ • rſally admired; and from that time his acquaintance was courted by all men of taſte Dr. Rundle, afterwards biſhop of Lerry, received him into his intimate confidence and friendſhip; promoted his character every where: introduced him to his great friend the lord chancellor Talbot; and ſome years after, when the eldeſt ſon of that nobleman was to make his tour, recommended Mr Thomſon as a proper companion for him. His affection and gratitude to Dr. Rundle are finely expreſſed, in his poem to the memory of lord Talbot. Our author held the eſtimation of the public ſo highly, that he finiſhed the plan which their wiſhes laid out for him; and the expectations which his Winter had raiſed, were fully anſwered in the ſucceſſive publication of the other ſeaſons; Summer, in the year • 727; Spring, in the beginn • ng of 1728; and Autumn, in a quarto edition of his works, in 1730.

Beſides theſe, and his tragedy of Sophoniſb • , which was well received in the year 1729, Mr. Thomſon had, in 1727, publiſhed his poem to the memory of Sir Iſaac Newton, th • n lately deceaſed. The ſame year, the reſentment of our merchants, for the interruption of their trade by the Spaniards in America▪ running very high, Mr Thomſon zea • ouſly took part in it, and wrote his poem Britannia, to rouſe the nation to revenge. His poetical purſuits were now interrupted by his attendance on the honourable Mr. Charles Talbot in his travels, with whom he viſited moſt of the courts and capital cities of Europe. How particular and judicious his obſervations were, appears from his poem on Liberty, in five parts, thus in • itled. Ancient and Modern Italy compared; Gre • ce; Rome; Britain; the Proſpect. While he was writing the firſt part of Liberty, he received a ſevere ſhock, by the death of his noble friend and fellow-traveller, and this was ſoon followed by another ſtill more ſo, and of more general concern, the death of lord Talbot himſelf; which Mr. Thomſon ſo pathetically laments, in the poem dedicated to his memory. At the ſame time he found himſelf from an eaſy competency, reduced to a ſtate of precarious dependence, in which he paſſed the remainder of his life, excepting only the two laſt years of it, during which he enjoyed the place of ſurveyor general of the Leeward iſlands, procured for him by the generous friendſhip of lord Lyttleton.

Immediately upon his return to England with Mr. Talbot, the chancellor had made him his ſecretary of briefs, a place of li • tle attendance, ſuiting his retired indolent way of life, and equal to all his wants. This place • ell with his patron; yet his genius could not be depreſſed, or his temper hurt, by this reverſe of fortune. He reſumed, in time, his uſual chearfulneſs, and never abated one article in his way of living; which, though ſimple, was elegant, and with a peculiar neatneſs. The profits ariſing from his works w • re not inconſiderable; his • rag • dy of Agamemnon, acted in 1738, gave many nigh • s to the author.

But his chief dependence, during this long interval, was on the protection and bounty of his royal highneſs Frederick Prince of Wales, who, upon the recommendation of lord Lyttleton, then his chief favourite, ſettled on him an handſome allowance, and always received him very graciouſly. It happened, however, that the favour of his royal highneſs was, in one inſtance, of ſome prejudice to Mr. Thomſon, in the refuſal of a licence for his tragedy of Edward and Eleanora, which he had prepared for the ſtage in the year 1739. This proceeded from the miſunderſtand • ng which then ſubſiſted between the court of the prince of Wales, and that of the king his father. His next dramatic performance was the maſque of Alfred, written jointly with Mr. Mallet, who was his good friend on many occaſions, and by command of the prince of Wales, for the entertainment of his royal highneſs's court at his Summer reſidence▪ In the year 1745, his Tancred and Sigiſmunda, taken from the novel in Gil Blas, was well received. He in the mean time, was finiſhing his Caſtle of Indolence, an allegorical poem, in two canto • . The ſtanza in which he wrote this piece is that of Spencer, borrowed from the Italian poets. This was the laſt piece publiſhed by Mr. Thomſon, his tragedy of C • ri • lanus being only. prepared for the theatre, when a fever ſeized him, and deprived the world of a very good man, as well as a very great poet. His death happened on the 27th of Auguſt, 1748. His executors were the lord Lyttleton and Mr. Mitchel; and, by their intereſt, the orphan play of Coriolanus was brought on the ſtage to the b • ſt advantage: from the pr • fits of which, and from the ſale of his manuſcripts and other effects, all demands were duly ſatisfied, and a handſome ſum remitted to his ſiſters. His remains were depoſited in the church of Richmond, under a plain ſtone, without any inſcription.

Mr. Thomſon himſelf hints, ſomewhere in his works, that his figure was not the moſt promiſing, his make being rather robuſt than graceful; and his worſt appearance was, when he was ſeen walking alone, in a thoughtful mood: but when ſaluted by a friend▪ and they entered into converſation he would inſtantly brighten into a moſt amiable aſpect, his features no longer the ſame, and his eyes darting a peculiar and animated fire. He had improved his taſte by the beſt originals, both ancient and modern, b • t could not bear to write what was not ſtrictly hi • own. What he borrowed from the ancients, he gives us in an avowed faithful paraphraſe, or tranſlation, as we ſee in a few paſſages taken from Virgil, and in that beautiful picture from the elder Pliny, where the courſe and gradual increaſe of the Nile are figured by the ſtages of man's life The Autumn was his favourite ſeaſon for poetical compoſition, and the deep ſilence of the night the t • me he commonly choſe for ſuch ſtudies: ſo that he would often be heard walking in his ſtudy till near morning, humming over, in his way, what he was to correct and write out the next day. The amuſements of his leiſure hours were civil and natural hiſtory, voyages, and the beſt relations of travellers; and, had his ſituation favoured it, he would certainly have excelled in gardening, agriculture, and every rural improvement and exerciſe. Although he performed on no inſtrument, he was paſſionately fond of muſic, and would ſometimes liſten a full hour at his window to the nightingales in Richmond-gardens. Nor was his taſte leſs exquiſite in the arts of painting, ſculpture, and architecture. In his travels, he had ſeen all the moſt celebrated monuments of antiquity, and the beſt productions of modern art, and had ſtudied them ſo minutely, and with ſuch true judgment, that, in ſome of his deſcriptions of his poem on Liberty, we have them ſo delineated as to place them in a ſtronger light, perhaps, than if we ſaw them with our eyes. As for the more diſtinguiſhing qualities of his mind and heart, they are beſt diſcoverable in his writings, than they can be preſented by the pen of any biographer. There his love of mankind, of his country and friends; his devotion to his God, founded on the moſt elevated and juſt conception of his operative power and providence, ſhines in every page. So unbounded was his tenderneſs of heart, that it took in even the brute creation: he was extremely tender towards his own ſpecies. He is not indeed known, through his whole life, to have given any perſon one moment's pain by his writings, or otherwiſe. He took no part in the poetical ſquabbles of his time, and ſo was reſpected and left undiſturbed by both parties. Theſe amiable virtues, this divine temper of mind, did not fail of their due reward: the beſt and greateſt men of his time honoured him with their friendſhip and protection: the applauſe of the public attended all his productions; his friends loved him with an enthuſiaſtic ardour, and ſincerely lamented his untimely death.

SPRING

SPRING. The ARGUMENT.

The ſubject propoſed. Inſcribed to the Counteſs of HARTFORD. The Seaſon is deſcribed as it affects the various parts of Nature, aſcending from the lower to the higher; with digreſſions ariſing from the ſubject. Its influence on inanimate Matter, on Vegetables, on brute Animals, and laſt on Man; concluding with a diſſuaſive from the wild and irregular paſſion of Love, oppoſed to that of a pure and happy kind.

SPRING. COME, gentle SPRING, ethereal Mildneſs, come, And from the boſom of yon dropping cloud. While muſick wakes around, veil'd in a ſhower Of ſhadowing roſes, on our plains deſcend. O HARTFORD, fitted, or to ſhine in courts With unaffected grace, or walk the plain With innocence and meditation join'd In ſoft aſſemblage, liſten to my ſong, Which thy own Seaſon paints; when Nature all Is blooming, and benevolent, like thee. AND ſee where ſurly WINTER paſſes off, Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blaſts: His blaſts obey, and quit the howling hill, The ſhatter'd foreſt, and the ravag'd vale; While ſofter gales ſucceed, at whoſe kind touch, Diſſolving ſnows in livid torrents loſt, The mountains lift their green heads to the ſky. AS yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd, And WINTER oft at eve reſumes the breeze, Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving ſleets Deform the day delightleſs: ſo that ſcarce The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulpht, To ſhake the ſounding marſh; or from the ſhore The plovers when to ſcatter o'er the heath, And ſing their wild notes to the liſtening waſte. AT laſt from Aries rolls the bounteous ſun, And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more Th' expanſive atmoſphere is cramp'd with cold; But, full of life and vivifying ſoul, Lifts the light clouds ſublime, and ſpreads them thin, Fleecy, and white, o'er all-ſurrounding heaven. FORTH fly the tepid airs; and unconfin'd, Unbinding earth, the moving ſoftneſs ſtrays, Joyous, th' impatient huſbandman perceives Relenting Nature, and his luſty ſteers Drives from their ſtalls, to where the well-us'd plough Lies in the furrow, looſen'd from the froſt. There, unrefuſing, to the harneſs'd yoke, They lend their ſhoulder, and begin their toil, Chear'd by the ſimple ſo • g and ſoaring lark. Meanwhile, incumbent o'er the ſhining ſhare, The maſter leans, removes th' obſtructing clay, Winds the whole work, and ſidelong lays the glebe. WHITE, thro' the neighbouring fields the ſower ſtalks, With meaſur'd ſtep; and, liberal, throws the grain Into the faithful boſom of the ground: The harrow follows harſh, and ſhuts the ſcene. BE gracious, HEAVEN! for now laborious Man Has done his part. Ye foſtering breezes, blow! Ye ſof • ening dews, ye te • der ſhowers, deſcend! And temper all, thou world-reviving ſun, Into the perfect year! Not ye who live In luxury and eaſe, in pomp and pride, Think theſe loſt themes unworthy of your ear: Such themes as theſe the rural MARO ſung To wide-imperial ROME, in the full height Of elegance and taſte, by GREECE refin'd. In antient times, the ſacred plough employ'd The kings, and awful fathers of mankind: And ſome, with whom compar'd, your inſect tribes Are but the beings of a ſummer's day, Have held the ſcale of empire, rul'd the ſtorm Of mighty war; then, with unwearied victorious hand, Diſdaining little delicacies, ſeiz'd The plough, and greatly independent liv'd. ſcorn'd This line not in the laſt Ed. All the vile ſtores corruption can beſtow. YE generous BRITONS, venerate the plough! And o'er your hills, and long withdrawing vales, Let Autumn ſpread his treaſures to the ſun, Luxuriant, and unbounded: as the ſea, Far thro' his azure turbulent domain, Your empire owns, and from a thouſand ſhores Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports; So with ſuperior boon may your rich ſoil, Exuberant, Nature's better bleſſings pour O'er every land, the naked nations cloathe, And be th' exhauſtleſs granary of a world! NOR only thro' the lenient air this change, Delicious, breathes; the penetrative ſun, His force deep-darting to the dark retreat Of vegetation, ſets the ſteaming Power At large, to wander o'er the vernant Earth, In various hues; but chiefly thee, gay Green! Thou ſmiling Nature's univerſal robe! United light and ſhade! where the ſight dwells With growing ſtrength, and ever-new delight. FROM the moiſt meadow to the wither'd hill, Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs, And ſwells, and deepens, to the cheriſh'd eye. The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, Till the whole leafy foreſt ſtands diſplay'd, In full luxuriance, to the ſighing gales; Where the deer ruſtle thro' the twining brake, And the birds ſing conceal'd. At once, array'd In all the colours of the fluſhing year, By Nature's ſwift and ſecret-working hand, The garden glows, and fills the liberal air With laviſh fragrance; while the promis'd fruit Lies yet, a little embryo, unperceiv'd, Within its crimſon ſolds. Now from the town Buried in ſmoke, and ſleep, and noiſome damps, Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields, Where freſhneſs breathes, and daſh the trembling drops From the bent buſh, as thro' the verdant maze Of ſweet-bria • hedges I purſue my walk; Or taſte the ſmell of dairy; or aſcend Some eminence, AUGUSTA, in thy plains, And ſee the country, far-diffus'd around, One boundleſs bluſh, one white-empurpled ſhower Of mingled bloſſoms; where the raptur'd eye Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath The fair profuſion, yellow Autumn ſpies. I • , bruſh'd from Ruſſian wilds, a cutting gale Riſe not, and ſcatter from his humid wings The clammy mildew; or, dry-blowing, breathe Untimely froſt; before whoſe baleful blaſt, The full-blown Spring thro' all her foliage ſhrinks, Joyleſs, and dead, a wide-dejected waſte. For oft, engender'd by the hazy north, Myriads on myriads, inſect-armies waft Keen in the poiſon'd breeze; and waſteful eat, Thro' buds and bark, into the blackened core, Their eager way. A feeble race! yet oft The ſacred ſons of vengeance! on whoſe courſe Corroſive famine waits, and kills the year. To check this plague the ſkilful farmer, chaff, And blazing ſtraw, before his orchard burns; Till, all involv'd in ſmoke, the latent foe From every cranny ſuffocated falls: Or ſcatters o'er the blooms the pungent duſt Of pepper, fatal to the froſty tribe: Or, when th' envenom'd leaf begins to curl, With ſprinkled water drowns them in their neſt: Nor, while they pick them up with • uſy bill, The little trooping birds unwiſely ſcares. BE patient, ſwains; theſe cruel-ſeeming winds Blow not in vain. Far hence they keep, rep • eſs'd, Thoſe deepening clouds on clou • s, ſurcharg'd with rain, That o'er the vaſt Atlantic hither • orne, In endleſs train, would quench the ſummer-blaze, And, chearleſs, drown the crude unripen'd year. THE north-eaſt ſpends his rage, h • and now, ſhut up Within his iron cave caves, th' effuſive • outh Warms the wide air, and o'er the void of heaven Breathes the big clouds with vernal ſhowers diſtent. At firſt a duſky wreath they ſeem to riſe, Scarce ſtaining ether; but by ſwift faſt degrees, In heaps on heaps, the doubling vapour ſails Along the loaded ſky, and mingling deep Sits on the horiſon round a ſettled gloom. Not ſuch as wintry ſtorms on mortals ſhed, Oppreſſing life; but lovely, gentle, kind, And full of every hope and every joy, The wiſh of Nature. Gradual, ſinks the breeze, Into a perfect calm; that not a breath Is heard to quiver thro' the cloſing woods, Or ruſtling turn the many-twinkling leaves Of aſpin tall. Th' uncurling floods, diffus'd In glaſſy breadth, ſeem'd thro' deluſive lapſe Forgetful of their courſe. 'Tis ſilence all, And pleaſing expectation. Herds and flocks Drop the dry ſprig, and mute-imploring eye The falling verdure. Huſh'd in ſhort ſuſpence, The plumy people ſtreak their wings with oil, To throw the lucid moiſture trickling off; And wait th' approaching ſign to ſtrike, at once, Into the general choir. Even mountains, vales, And foreſts ſeem, impatient, to demand The promis'd ſweetneſs. Man ſuperior walks Amid the glad creation, muſing praiſe, And looking lively gratitude. At laſt, The clouds conſign their treaſures to the fields, And, ſoftly ſhaking on the dimpled pool Preluſive drops, let all their moiſture flow, In large effuſion o'er the freſhen'd world. The ſtealing ſhower is ſcarce to patter heard, By ſuch as wander thro' the foreſt-walks, Beneath th' umbrageous multitude of leaves. • ut who can hold the ſhade, while Heaven deſcends In univerſal bounty, ſhedding herbs, And fruits, and flowers, on Nature's ample lap? Swift fancy fir'd anticipates their growth; And, while the milky nutriment diſtills, Beholds the kindling country colour round. THUS all day long the full-diſtended clouds Indulge their genial ſtores, and well-ſhowered earth Is deep enrich'd with vegetable life; 'Till, in the weſtern ſky, the downward ſun Looks out, effulgent, from amid the fluſh Of broken clouds, gay-ſhifting to his beam. The rapid radiance inſtantaneous ſtrikes Th' illumin'd mountain, thro' the foreſt ſtreams, Shakes on the floods, and in a yellow miſt, Far-ſmoaking o'er th' interminable plain, In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems. Moiſt, bright, and green, the landſcape laughs around. Full ſwell the woods; their every muſic wakes, Mix'd in wild concert with the warbling brooks Increas'd, the diſtant bleatings of the hills, And The hollow lows reſponſive from the vales, Whence blending all the ſweeten'd zephyr ſprings. Mean time refracted from yon eaſtern cloud, Beſtriding earth, the grand ethereal bow Shoots up immenſe; and every hue unfolds, In fair proportion running from the red, To where the violet fades into the ſky. Here, awful NEWTON, the diſſolving clouds Form, fronting on the ſun, thy ſhowery priſm; And to the ſage-inſtructed well-inſtructed eye unfold The various twine of light, by thee diſclos'd From the white mingling maze. Not ſo the boy ſwain; He wondering views the bright enchantment bend, Delightful, o'er the radiant fields, and runs To catch the falling glory; but amaz'd Beholds th' amuſive arch before him fly, Then vaniſh quite away. Still night ſucceeds, A ſoften'd ſhade, and ſaturated earth Awaits the morning-beam, to give to light▪ Rais'd thro' ten thouſand different plaſtic tubes, The balmy treaſures of the former day. THEN ſpring the living herbs, profuſely wild, O'er all the deep-green earth, beyond the power Of botaniſt to number up their tribes: Whether he ſteals along the lonely dale, In ſilent ſearch; or thro' the foreſt, rank With what the dull incurious weeds account, Burſts his blind way; or climbs the mountain-rock, Fir'd by the nodding verdure of its brow. With ſuch a liberal hand has Nature flung Their ſeeds abroad, blown them about in winds, Innumerous mix'd them with the nurſing mold, The moiſtening current, and prolific rain. BUT who their virtues can declare? who pierce, With viſion pure, into theſe ſecret ſtores Of health, and life▪ and joy? the food of Man, While yet he liv'd in innocence, and told A length of golden years, unfleſh'd in blood, A ſtranger to the ſavage arts of life, Death, rapine, carnage, ſurfeit, and diſeaſe, The lord, and not the tyrant of the world. THE firſt freſh dawn then wak'd the gladden'd race Of • ncorrupted Man, nor bluſh'd to ſee The ſluggard ſleep beneath its ſacred beam. For their light ſlumbers gently fum'd away; And up they roſe as vigorous as the ſun, Or to the culture of the willing glebe, Or to the chearful tendance of the flock. Meantime the ſong went round; and dance and ſport, Wiſdom and friendly talk, ſucceſſive, ſtole Their hours away. While in the roſy vale Love breath'd his infant ſighs, from anguiſh free, And full replete with bliſs; ſave the ſweet pain, That, inly thrilling, but exalts it more. Nor yet injurious act, nor ſurly deed, Was known among theſe happy ſons of HEAVEN; For reaſon and benevolence were law. Harmonious Nature too look'd ſmiling on, Clear ſhone the ſkies, cool'd with eternal gales, And balmy ſpirit all. The youthful ſun Shot his beſt rays, and ſtill the gracious clouds Drop'd ſatneſs down; as, o'er the ſwelling mead, The herds and flocks, commixing, play'd ſecure. This when, emergent from the gloomy wood, The glaring lion ſaw, his horrid heart Was meeken'd, and he join'd his ſullen joy. For muſic held the whole in perfect peace: Soft ſigh'd the flute; the tender voice was heard, Warbling the vary'd heart; the woodlands round Apply'd their quire; and winds and waters flow'd In conſonance. Such were thoſe prime of days. BUT now thoſe white unblemiſh'd manners minutes, whence The fabling poets took their golden age, Are found no more amid theſe iron times, Theſe dregs of life! Now the diſtemper'd mind Has loſt that concord of harmonious powers, Which forms the ſoul of happineſs; and all Is off the poiſe within: the paſſions all Have burſt their bounds; and reaſon half extinct, Or impotent, or elſe approving, ſees The foul diſorder. Senſeleſs, and deform'd, Convulſive anger ſtorms at large; or pale, And ſilent, ſettles into fell revenge. Baſe envy withers at another's joy, And hates that excellence it cannot reach. Deſponding fear, of feeble fancies ſull, Weak, and unmanly, looſens every power. Even love itſelf is bitterneſs of ſoul, A penſive anguiſh pining at the heart: Or, ſunk to ſordid intereſt, feels no more That noble wiſh, that never-cloy'd deſire, Which, ſelfiſh joy diſdaining, ſeeks, alone, To bleſs the dearer object of its flame. Hope ſickens with extravagance; and grief, Of life impatient, into madneſs ſwells; Or in dead ſilence waſtes the weeping hours. Theſe, and a thouſand mix'd emotions more, From ever-changing views of good and ill, Form'd infinitely various, vex the mind With endleſs ſtorm. Whence,d • eply inly rankling, grows The partial thought, a liſtleſs unconcern, Cold, and averting from our neighbour's good; Then dark diſguſt, and hatred, winding wiles, Coward deceit, and ruffian violence. At laſt, extinct each ſocial feeling, fell And joyleſs inhumanity pervades, And petrifies the heart. Nature diſturb'd Is deem'd, vindictive, to have chang'd her courſe. HENCE, in old duſky time, a deluge came: When the deep-cleft diſparting orb, that arch'd The central waters round, impetuous ruſh'd, With univerſal burſt, into the gulph, And o'er the high-pil'd hills of fractur'd earth Wide-daſh'd the waves, in undulation vaſt; Till, from the center to the ſtreaming clouds, A ſhoreleſs ocean tumbled round the globe. THE Seaſons ſince have, with ſeverer ſway, Oppreſs'd a broken world: the Winter keen Shook forth his waſte of ſnows; and Summer ſhot His peſtilential heats. Great Spring, before, Green'd all the year; and fruits and bloſſoms bluſh'd, In ſocial ſweetneſs, on the ſelf-ſame bough. Pure was the temperate air; an even calm Perpetual reign'd, ſave what the zephyrs bland Breath'd o'er the blue expanſe: for then nor ſtorms Were taught to blow, nor hurricanes to rage; Sound ſlept the waters; no ſulphureous glooms Swell'd in the ſky, and ſent the lightning forth; While ſickly damps, and cold autumnal fogs, Hung not, relaxing, on the ſprings of life. But now, of turbid elements the ſport, From clear to cloudy toſt, from hot to cold, And dry to moiſt, with inward-eating change, Our drooping days are dwindled down to nought, Their period finiſh'd ere 'tis well begun. AND yet the wholeſome herb neglected dies; Tho' with a pure exhilarating ſoul Of nutriment and health, and vital powers, Beyond the ſearch of art, 'tis copious bleſt. For, with hot ravine fir'd, enſanguin'd Man Is now become the lion of the plain, And worſe. The wolf, who from the nightly fold Fierce drags the bleating prey, ne'er drunk her milk, Nor wore her warming fleece: nor has the ſteer, At whoſe ſtrong cheſt the deadly tyger hangs, E'er plough'd for him. They too are temper'd high, With hunger ſtung, and wild neceſſity, Nor lodges pity in their ſhaggy breaſt. But Man, whom Nature form'd of milder clay, With every kind emotion in his heart, And taught alone to wee; while from her lap She pours ten thouſand delicacies, herbs, And fruits, as numerous as the drops of rain, Or beams that gave them birth: ſhall he, fair form! Who wears ſweet ſmiles, and looks erect on heaven, E'er ſtoop to mingle with the prowling herd, And dip his tongue in gore? the beaſt of prey, Blood-ſtain'd, deſerves to bleed: but you, ye flocks, What have you done; ye peaceful people, what, To merit death? you, who have given us milk In luſcious ſtreams, and lent us your own coat Againſt the Winter's cold? and the plain ox, That harmleſs, honeſt, guileleſs animal, In what has he offended? he, whoſe toil, Patient and ever-ready, cloathes the land With all the pomp of harveſt; ſhall he bleed, And ſtruggling groan beneath the cruel hands Even of the clown he feeds? and that, perhaps, To ſwell the riot of th' autumnal feaſt, Won by his labour? thus the feeling heart Would tenderly ſuggeſt: but 'tis enough, In this late age, adventurous, to have touch'd Light on the numbers of the Samian ſage. High HEAVEN forbids HEAVEN too forbids the bold preſumptuous ſtrain, Whoſe wiſeſt will has fix'd us in a ſtate That muſt not yet to pure perfection riſe. Now when the firſt foul torrent of the brooks, Swell'd with by the vernal rains, is ebb'd away; And, whitening, down their moſſy-tinctur'd ſtream Deſcends the billowy foam: now is the time, While yet the dark-brown water aids the guile, To tempt the trout. The well-diſſembled fly, The rod fine-tapering with elaſtic ſpring, Snatch'd from the hoary ſteed the floating line, And all thy ſlender watry ſtores prepare, But let not on thy hook the tortur'd worm, Convulſive, twiſt in agonizing folds; Which by rapacious hunger ſwallow'd deep, Gives, as you tear it from the bleeding breaſt Of the weak helpleſs uncomplaining wretch, Harſh pain and horror to the tender hand. WHEN, with his lively ray, the potent ſun Has pierc'd the ſtreams, and rous'd the finny race, Then, iſſuing chearful, to thy ſport repair; Chief ſhould the weſtern breezes curling play, And light o'er ether bear the ſhadowy clouds. High to their fount, this day, amid the hills, And woodlands warbling round, trace up the brooks; The next, purſue their rocky-channel'd maze, Down to the river, in whoſe ample wave Their little Naiads love to ſport at large. Juſt in the dubious point, where with the pool Is mix'd the trembling ſtream, or where it boils Around the ſtone, or from the hollow'd bank, Reverted, plays in undulating flow, There throw, nice-judging, the deluſive fly; And, as you lead it round in artful curve, With eye attentive mark the ſpringing game. Strait as above the ſurface of the flood They wanton riſe, or urg'd by hunger leap, Then fix, with gentle twitch, the barbed hook; Some lightly toſſing to the graſſy bank, And to the ſhelving ſhore ſlow-dragging ſome, With various hand proportion'd to their force. If yet too young, and eaſily deceiv'd, A worthleſs prey ſcarce bends your pliant rod, Him, piteous of his youth, and the ſhort ſpace He has enjoy'd the vital light of Heaven, Soft diſengage, and back into the ſtream The ſpeckled captive infant throw. But ſhould you lure From his dark haunt, beneath the tangled roots Of pendant trees, the monarch of the brook, Behoves you then to ply your fineſt art. Long time he, following cautious, ſcans the fly; And oft attempts to ſeize it, but as oft The dimpled water ſpeaks his jealous fear. At laſt, while haply o'er the ſhaded ſun Paſſes a cloud, he deſperate takes the death, With ſullen plunge. At once he darts along, Deep-ſtruck, and runs out all the lengthen'd line; Then ſeeks the fartheſt ooze, the ſheltering weed, The cavern'd bank, his old ſecure abode; And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool, Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand, That feels him ſtill, yet to his furious courſe Gives way, you, now retiring, following now Acroſs the ſtream, exhauſt his idle rage; Till floating broad upon his breathleſs ſide, And to his fate abandon'd, to the ſhore You gayly drag your unreſiſting prize. THUS paſs the temperate hours: but when the ſun Shakes from his noon-day throne the ſcattering clouds, Even ſhooting liſtleſs languor thro' the deeps; Then ſeek the bank where flowering elders croud, Where ſcatter'd wild the lily of the vale Its balmy eſſence breathes, where cowſlips hang The dewy head, where purple violets lurk, With all the lowly children of the ſhade: Or lie reclin'd beneath yon ſpreading aſh, Hung o'er the ſteep; whence, borne on liquid wing, The ſounding culver ſhoots; or where the hawk, High, in the beetling cliff, his airy builds. There let the claſſic page thy fancy lead Thro' rural ſcenes; ſuch as the Mantuan ſwain Paints in the matchleſs unequal harmony of ſong. Or catch thyſelf the landſcape, gliding ſwift Athwart imagination's vivid eye: Or by the vocal woods and waters lull'd, And loſt in lonely muſing, in a dream, Confus'd, of careleſs ſolitude, where mix Ten thouſand wandering images of things, Soothe every guſt of paſſion into peace, All but the ſwellings of the ſoften'd heart, That waken, not diſturb the tranquil mind. BEHOLD yon breathing proſpect bids the Muſe Throw all her beauty forth. But who can paint Like Nature? can imagination boaſt, Amid its gay creation, hues like her's? Or can it mix them with that matchleſs ſkill, And loſe them in each other, as appears In every bud that blows? if fancy then Unequal fails beneath the pleaſing taſk; Ah what ſhall language do? Ah where find words Ting'd with ſo many colours; and whoſe power, To life approaching, may perfume my lays With that fine oil, thoſe aromatic gales, That inexhauſtive flow continual round? YET, tho' ſucceſsleſs, will the toil delight. Come then, ye virgins, and ye youths, whoſe hearts Have felt the raptures of refining love; And thou, AMANDA, come, pride of my ſong! Form'd by the graces, lovelineſs itſelf! Come with thoſe downcaſt eyes, ſedate and ſweet, Thoſe looks demure, that deeply pierce the ſoul; Where, with the light of thoughtful reaſon, mix'd, Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart: Oh come! and while the roſy-footed May Steals bluſhing on, together let us tread The morning dews, and gather in their prime Freſh-blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair, And thy lov'd boſom that improves their ſweets. SEE, where the winding vale its laviſh ſtores, I • riguous, ſpreads. See, how the lily drinks The latent rill, ſcarce oozing thro' the graſs, Of growth luxuriant; or the humid bank, In fair profuſion, decks. Long let us walk, Where the breeze blows from you extended field Of bloſſom'd beans. Arabia cannot boaſt A fuller gale of joy than, liberal, thence Breathes thro' the ſenſe, and takes the raviſh'd ſoul. Nor is the mend unworthy of thy foot, Full of freſh verdure, and unnumber'd flowers, The negligence of Nature, wide, and wild; Where, undiſguis'd by mimic Art, ſhe ſpreads Unbounded beauty to the roving eye. Here their delicious taſk the fervent bees, In ſwarming millions, tend. Around, athwart, Thro' the ſoft air, the buſy nations fly, Cling to the bud, and, with inſerted tube, Suck its pure eſſence, its ethereal ſoul: And oft, with bolder wing, they ſoaring dare The purple heath, or where the wild-thyme grows And yellow load them with the luſcious ſpoil. AT length the finiſh'd garden to the view Its viſtas opens, and its alleys green. Snatch'd thro' the verdant maze, the hurried eye Diſtracted wanders; now the bowery walk Of covert cloſe, where ſcarce a ſpeck of day Falls on the lengthen'd gloom, protracted ſweeps; Now meets the bending ſky, the rive • now Dimpling along, the breezy-ruffled lake, The foreſt darkening round, the glittering ſpire, Th' ethereal mountain, and the diſtant main. But why ſo far excurſive? when at hand, Along theſe bluſhing borders, bright with dew, And in yon mingled wilderneſs of flowers, Fair-handed Spring unboſoms every grace: Throws out the ſnow-drop, and the crocus firſt; The daiſy, primroſe, violet darkly blue, And polyanthus of unnumber'd dyes; The yellow wall-flower, ſtain'd with iron brown; And laviſh ſtock that ſcents the garden round. From the ſoft wing of vernal breezes ſhed, Anemonies; auriculas, enrich'd With ſhining meal o'er all their velvet leaves; And full ranun • ulas of glowing red. Then comes the tulip-race, where beauty plays Her idle freaks▪ from family diffus'd To family, as flies the father-duſt, The varied colours run; and while they break On the charm'd eye, th' exulting floriſt ma • ks, With ſecret pride, the wonders of his hand. No gradual bloom is wanting; from the bud, Firſt-born of Spring, to Summer's muſky tribes: Nor hyacinths, of pureſt virgin white, Low-be • t, and bluſhing inward; nor jonquils, Nor hyacinths, deep-purpled; nor jonquils, Of potent fragrance; nor narciſſus fair, As o'er the fabled fountain hanging ſtill; Nor broad carnations; nor gay-ſpotted pinks; Nor, ſhower'd from every buſh, the damaſk-roſe. Infinite numbers, delicacies, ſmells, With hues on hues expreſſion cannot paint, The breath of Nature, and her endleſs bloom. Hail, SOURCE of BEING! UNIVERSAL SOUL Of Heaven and earth! ESSENTIAL PRESENCE, hail! To THEE I bend the knee; to THEE my thoughts, Continual, climb; who, with a maſter-hand, Haſt the great whole into perfection touch'd. By THEE the various vegetative tribes, Wrapt in a filmy net, and clad with leaves, Draw the live ether, and imbibe the dew. By THEE diſpos'd into congenial ſoils, Stands each attractive plant, and ſucks, and ſwells The juicy tide; a twining maſs of tubes. At THY command the vernal ſun awakes The torpid ſap, detruded to the root By wintry winds, that now in fluent dance, And lively fermentation, mounting, ſpreads All this innumerous-colour'd ſcene of things. As riſing from the vegetable world My theme aſcends, with equal wing aſcend, My panting Muſe; and hark, how loud the woods Invite you forth in all your gayeſt trim. Lend me your ſong, ye nightingales! oh pour The mazy-running ſoul of melody Into my varied verſe! while I deduce, From the firſt note the hollow cuckoo ſings, The ſymphony of Spring, and touch a theme Unknown to fame, the Paſſion of the groves. WHEN firſt the ſoul of love is ſent abroad, Warm through the vital air, and on th •• heart Harmonious ſeizes, the gay troops begin, In gallant thought, to plume the painted wing; And try again the long-forgotten ſtrain, At firſt faint-warbled. But no ſooner grows, The ſoft infuſion prevalent, and wide, Than, all alive, at once their joy o'erflows In muſic unconfin'd. Up-ſprings the lark, Shrill-voiced, and loud, the meſſenger of morn; Ere yet the ſhadows fly, he mounted ſings Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts Calls up the tuneful nations. Every copſe Deep-tangled Thick wove, and tree irregular, and buſh, Bending with dewy moiſture, o'er the heads Of the coy quiriſters that lodge within, Are prodigal of harmony. The thruſh And wood-lark, o'er the kind contending throng Superior heard, run thro' the ſweeteſt length Of notes; when liſtening Philomela deigns To let them joy, and purpoſes, in thought Elate, to make her night excel their day. The black-bird whiſtles from the thorny brake; The mellow bullfinch anſwers from the grove: Nor are the • innets, o'er the flowering furze Pour'd out profuſely, ſilent. Join'd to theſe Innumerous ſongſters, in the freſhening ſhade Of new-ſprung leaves, their modulations mix Mellifluous. The jay, the rook, the daw, And each harſh pipe diſcordant heard alone, Aid the full concert: while the ſtock-dove breathes A melancholy murmur thro' the whole. 'TIS love creates their melody, and all This waſte of muſic is the voice of love; That even to birds, and beaſts, the tender arts Of pleaſing teaches. Hence the gloſſy kind Try every winning way inventive love Can dictate, and in courtſhip to their mates Pour forth their little ſouls. Firſt, wide around, With diſtant awe, in airy rings they rove, Endeavouring by a thouſand tricks to catch The cunning, conſcious, half-averted glance Of their regardleſs charmer. Should ſhe ſeem Softening the leaſt approvance to beſtow, Their colours burniſh▪ and by hope inſpir'd, They briſk advance; then, on a ſudden ſtruck, Retire diſorder'd; then again approach; In fond rotation ſpread the ſpotted wing, And ſhiver every feather with deſire. CONNUBIAL leagues agreed, to the deep woods They haſte away, all as their fancy leads, Pleaſure, or food, or ſecret ſafety prompts; That Nature's great command may be obey'd, Nor all the ſweet ſenſations they perceive Indulg'd in vain. Some to the holly-hedge Neſtling repair, and to the thicket ſome; Some to the rude protection of the thorn Commit their feeble offspring. The cleft tree Offers its kind concealment to a few, Their food its inſects, and its moſs their neſts. Others apart far in the graſſy dale, Or roughening waſte, their humble texture weave. But moſt in woodland ſolitudes delight, In unfrequented glooms, or ſhaggy banks, Steep, and divided by a habbling brook, Whoſe murmurs ſoothe them all the live long day, When by kind duty for a ſeaſon fix'd. Among the roots Of hazel, pendant o'er the plaintive ſtream, They frame the firſt foundation of their domes; Dry ſprigs of trees, in artful fabrick laid, And bound with clay together. Now 'tis nought But reſtleſs hurry thro' the buſy air, Beat by unnumber'd wings. The ſwallow ſweeps The ſlimy pool, to build his hanging houſe Intent. And often, from the careleſs back Of herds and flocks, a thouſand tugging bills Pluck hair and wool; and oft, when unobſerv'd, Steal from the barn a ſtraw: till ſoft and warm, Clean, and compleat, their habitation grows. AS thus the patient dam aſſiduous ſits, Not to be tempted from her tender taſk, Or by ſharp hunger, or by ſmooth delight, Tho' the whole looſen'd Spring around her blows, Her ſympathizing lover takes his ſtand High on th' opponent bank, and ceaſeleſs ſings The tedious time away; or elſe ſupplies Her place a moment, while ſhe ſudden flits To pick the ſcanty meal. Th' appointed time With pious toil fulfill'd, the callow young Warm'd and expanded into perfect life, Their brittle bondage break, and come to light, A helpleſs family, demanding food With conſtant clamour. O what paſſions then, What melting ſentiments of kindly care, On the new parents ſeize! Away they fly Affectionate, and undeſiring bear The moſt delicious morſel to their young; Which equally diſtributed, again The ſearch begins. Even ſo a gentle pair, By fortune ſunk, but form'd of generous mold, And charm'd pierc'd with cares beyond the vulgar breaſt, In ſome lone cott amid the diſtant woods, Suſtain'd alone by providential HEAVEN, Oft, as they weeping eye their infant train, Check their own appetites and give them all. NOR toil pain alone they ſcorn: exalting love By the great FATHER OF THE SPRING inſpir'd, Gives inſtant courage to the fearful race, And to the ſimple art. With ſtealthy wing, Should ſome rude foot their woody haunts moleſt, Amid a neighbouring buſh they ſilent drop, And whirring thence, as if alarm'd, deceive Th' unfeeling ſchool-boy. Hence, around the head Of wandering ſwain, the white-wing'd plover wheels Her ſounding flight, and then directly on In long excurſion ſkims the level lawn, To tempt him from her neſt. The wild-duck, hence, O'er the rough moſs, and o'er the trackleſs waſte The heath-hen flutters, (pious fraud!) to lead The hot purſuing ſpaniel far aſtray. BE not the Muſe aſham'd, here to bemoan Her brothers of the grove, by tyrant Man Inhuman caught, and in the narrow cage From liberty confin'd, and boundleſs air. Dull are the pretty ſlaves, their plumage dull, Ragged, and all its brightening luſtre loſt; Nor is that ſprightly wildneſs in their notes, Which, clear and vigorous, warbles from the beech. Oh then, ye friends of love and love-taught ſong, Spare the ſoft tribes, this barbarous art forbear! If on your boſom innocence can win, Muſic engage, or piety perſuade. BUT let not chief the nightingale lament Her ruin'd care, too delicately fram'd To brook the harſh confinement of the cage. Oft when, returning with her loaded bill, Th' aſtoniſh'd mother finds a vacant neſt, By the hard hand of unrelenting clowns Robb'd, to the ground the vain proviſion falls; Her pinions ruffle, and low-drooping ſcarce Can bear the mourner to the poplar ſhade; Where, all abandon'd to deſpair, ſhe ſings Her ſorrows thro' the night; and, on the bough Sole-ſitting, ſtill at every dying fall Takes up again her lamentable ſtrain Of winding woe, till, wide around, the woods Sigh to her ſong, and with her wail reſound. BUT now the feather'd youth their former bounds, Ardent, diſdain; and, weighing oft their wings, Demand the free poſſeſſion of the ſky. This one glad office more, and then diſſolves Parental love at once, now needleſs grown. Unlaviſh Wiſdom never works in vain. 'Tis on ſome evening, ſunny, grateful, mild, When nought but balm is breathing thro' the woods, With yellow luſtre bright, that the new tribes Viſit the ſpacious heavens, and look abroad On Nature's common, far as they can ſee, Or wing, their range, and paſture. O'er the boughs Dancing about, ſtill at the giddy verge Their reſolution fails; their pinions ſtill, In looſe libration ſtretch'd, to truſt the void Trembling refuſe: till down before them fly The parent-guides, and chide, exhort, command, Or puſh them off. The ſurging air receives The plumy burden; and their ſelf-taught wings Winnow the waving element. On ground Alighted, bolder up again they lead, Farther and farther on, the lengthning ſligh • ; Till vaniſh'd every fear, and every power Rouz'd into life, and action, light in air Th' acquitted parents ſee their ſoaring race, And once rejoicing never know them more. HIGH from the ſummit of a craggy cliff, Hung o'er the deep, ſuch as amazing frowns On utmoſt The fartheſt of the weſtern iſlands of Scotland. Kilda's ſhore, whoſe lonely race Reſign the ſetting ſun to Indian worlds, The royal eagle draws his vigorous young, Strong-pounc'd, and ardent with paternal fire. Now fit to raiſe a kingdom of their own, He drives them from his fort, the towering ſeat, For ages, of his empire; which, in peace, Unſtain'd he holds, while many a league to ſea He wings his courſe, and preys in diſtant iſles. SHOULD I my ſteps turn to the rural ſeat, Whoſe lofty elms, and venerable oaks, Invite the rook, who high amid the boughs In early Spring, his airy city builds, And ceaſeleſs caws amuſive; there, well-pleas'd, I might the various polity ſurvey Of the mixt houſhold-kind. The careful hen Calls all her chirping family around, Fed, and defended by the fearleſs cock, Whoſe breaſt with ardour flames, as on he walks, Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond, The finely-checker'd duck, before her train, Rows garrulous. The ſtately-ſailing ſwan Gives out his ſnowy plumage to the gale; And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet Bears forward fierce, and guards his oſier iſle, Protective of his young. The turkey nigh, Loud-threatning, reddens; while the peacock ſpreads His every-colour'd glory to the ſun, And ſwims in radiant floating majeſty along. O'er the whole homely ſcene the cooing dove Flies thick in amorous chace, and wanton rolls The glancing eye, and turns the changeful neck. WHILE thus the gentle tenants of the ſhade Indulge their purer loves, the rougher world Of brutes, below, ruſh furious into flame, And fierce deſire. Thro' all his luſty veins The bull, deep-ſcorch'd, the raging paſſion feels. Of paſture ſick, and negligent of food, Scarce ſeen, he wades among the yellow broom, While o'er his ample ſides the rambling ſprays Luxuriant ſhoot; or thro' the mazy wood Dejected wanders, nor th' inticing bud Crops, tho' it preſſes on his careleſs ſenſe. And oft, in jealous madning fancy wrapt, He ſeeks the fight; and, idly-butting, feigns His rival gor'd in every knotty trunk. Him ſhould he meet, the bellowing war begins; Their eyes flaſh fury; to the hollow'd earth, Whence the ſand flies, they mutter bloody deeds, And groaning deep th' impetuous battle mix: While the fair heifer, balmy-breathing, near, Stands kindling up their rage. The trembling ſteed, With this hot impulſe ſeiz'd in every nerve, Nor hears the rein, nor heeds the ſounding thong; Blows are not felt; but toſſing high his head, And by the well-known joy to diſtant plains Attracted ſtrong, all wild he burſts away; O'er rocks and woods, and craggy mountains flies; And, neighing, on the aërial ſummit takes Th' exciting gale, then, ſteep deſcending, cleaves The headlong torrents foaming down the hills, Even where the madneſs of the ſtraiten'd ſtream Turns in black eddies round; ſuch is the force With which his frantick heart and ſinews ſwell. NOR undelighted, by the boundleſs Spring, Are the broad monſters of the foaming boiling deep: From the deep ooze, and gelid cavern rous'd, They flounce and tumble in unwieldy joy. Dire were the ſtrain, and diſſonant, to ſing The cruel raptures of the ſavage kind: How by this flame their native wrath ſublim'd, They roam, amid the fury of their heart, The far-reſounding waſte in fiercer bands, And growl their horrid loves. But this the theme I ſing, enraptur'd, to the BRITISH FAIR, Forbids, and leads me to the mountain-brow, Where ſits the ſhepherd on the graſſy turf, Inhaling, healthful, the deſ • ending ſun. Around him feeds his many-bleating flock, Of various cadence; and his ſportive lambs, This way and that convolv'd, in friſkful glee, Their frolicks play. And now the ſprightly race Invites them forth; when ſwift, the ſignal given, They ſtart away, and ſweep the maſſy mound That runs around the hill; the rampart once Of iron war, in ancient barbarous times, When diſu • ited BRITAIN ever bled, Leſt in eternal broil: ere yet ſhe grew To this deep-laid indiſſoluble ſtate, Where Wealth and Commerce lift their golden heads; And, o'er our labours, Liberty and Law, Impartial, watch, the wonder of a world! WHAT is this mighty Breath, ye ſages curious, ſay, That in a powerful language, felt not heard, That, in a language rather felt than heard, Inſtructs the fowls of heaven; and thro' their breaſt Theſe arts of love diffuſes? What, but GOD? Inſpiring GOD! who boundleſs Spirit all, And unremitting Energy, pervades, Adjuſts, ſuſtains, and agitates the whole. He ceaſeleſs works alone, and yet alone Seems not to work; with ſuch perfection fram'd Is this complex ſtupendous ſcheme of things. But, tho' conceal'd, to every purer eye Th' informing Author in his works appears: Chief, lovely Spring, in thee, and thy ſoft ſcenes, The SMILING GOD is ſeen▪ while water, earth, And air atteſt his bounty; which exalts The brute-creation to this finer thought, And annual melts their undeſigning hearts Profuſely thus in tenderneſs and joy. STILL let my ſong a nobler note aſſume, And ſing th' infuſive force of Spring on Man; When heaven and earth, as if contending, vye To raiſe his being, and ſerene his ſoul. Can he forbear to join the general ſmile Of Nature? Can fierce paſſions vex his breaſt, While every gale is peace, and every grove Is melody? Hence, from the bounteous walks Of flowing Spring, ye ſordid ſons of earth, Hard, and unfeeling of another's woe, Or only laviſh to yourſelves; away. But come, ye generous minds, in whoſe wide thought, Of all his works, CREATIVE BOUNTY burns With warmeſt beam; and on your open front, And liberal eye, ſits, from his dark retreat, Inviting modeſt want. Nor, till invok'd, Can reſtleſs goodneſs wait; your active ſearch Leaves no cold wintry corner unexplor'd; Like ſilent-working HEAVEN, ſurprizing oft The lonely heart with unexpected good. For you the roving ſpirit of the wind Blows Spring abroad; for you the teaming cloud Deſcend in gladſome plenty o'er the world; And the ſun ſheds his kindeſt rays for you, Ye flower of human race!—In theſe green days, Reviving ſickneſs lifts her languid head; Life flows afreſh; and young-ey'd health exalts The whole creation round. Contentment walks The ſunny glade, and feels an inward bliſs Spring o'er his mind, beyond the power of kings To purchaſe. Pure ſerenity apace Induces thought, and contemplation ſtill. By ſwift degrees the love of Nature works, And warms the boſom; till at laſt ſublim'd To rapture, and enthuſiaſtic heat, We feel the preſent DEITY, and taſte The joy of GOD to ſee a happy world. THESE are the ſacred feelings of thy heart, Thy heart inform'd by reaſon's purer pureſt ray, O LYTTELTON, the friend! thy paſſions thus And meditations vary, as at large, Courting the Muſe, thro' Hagley-Park thou ſtrayeſt; you ſtray, Thy Britiſh Tempe! There along the dale, With woods o'erhung, and ſhag'd with moſſy rocks, Whence on each hand the guſhing waters play, And down the rough caſcade white-daſhing fall, Or gleam in lengthen'd viſta thro' the trees, You ſilent ſteal; or ſit beneath the ſhade Of ſolemn oaks, that tuft the ſwelling mounts Thrown graceful round by Nature's careleſs hand, And penſive liſten to the various voice Of rural peace: the herds, the flocks, the birds, The hollow-whiſpering breeze, the plaint of rills, That, purling down amid the twiſted roots Which creep around, their dewy murmurs ſhake On the ſooth'd ear. From theſe abſtracted oft, You wander through the philoſophic world; Where in bright train continual wonders riſe, Or to the curious or the pious eye. And oft, conducted by hiſtoric truth, You tread the long extent of backward time: Planning, with warm benevolence of mind, And honeſt zeal unwarp'd by party-rage, BRITANNIA's weal; how from the venal gulph To raiſe her virtue, and her arts revive. Or, turning thence thy view, theſe graver thoughts The Muſes charm: while, with ſure taſte refin'd, You draw th' inſpiring breath of ancient ſong; Till nobly riſes, emulous, thy own. Perhaps thy lov'd LUCINDA ſhares thy walk, With ſoul to thine attun'd. Then Nature all Wears to the lover's eye a look of love; And all the tumult of a guilty world, Toſt by ungenerous paſſions, ſinks away▪ The tender heart is animated peace; And as it pours its copious treaſures forth, In vary'd converſe, ſoftening every theme, You, frequent-pauſing, turn, and from her eyes, Where meeken'd ſenſe, and amiable grace, And lively ſweetneſs dwell, enraptur'd, drink That nameleſs ſpirit of ethereal joy, Unutterable Inimitable happineſs! which love, Alone, beſtows, and on a favour'd few. Meantime you gain the height, from whoſe fair brow The burſting proſpect ſpreads immenſe around; And ſnatch'd o'er hill and dale, and wood and lawn, And verdant field, and darkening heath between, And villages emboſom'd ſoft in trees, And ſpiry towns by ſurging duſky columns mark'd Of houſhold riſing ſmoak, your eye excurſive roams: Wide-ſtretching from the Hall, in whoſe kind haunt The Hoſpitable Genius lingers harbours ſtill, To where the broken landſcape, by degrees, Aſcending, roughens into rigid ridgy hills; O'er which the Cambrian mountains, like far clouds That ſkirt the blue horiſon, duſky doubtful, riſe. FLUSH'D by the ſpirit of the genial year, Now from the virgin's cheek a freſher bloom Shoots, leſs and leſs, the live carnation round; Her lips bluſh deeper ſweets; ſhe breathes of youth; The ſhining moiſture ſwells into her eyes, In brighter flow; her wiſhing boſom heaves, With palpitations wild; kind tumults ſeize Her veins, and all her yielding ſoul is love. From the keen gaze her lover turns away, Full of the dear ecſtatic power, and ſick With ſighing languiſhment. Ah then, ye fair! Be greatly cautious of your ſliding hearts: Dare not th' infectious ſigh; the pleading look, Down-caſt, and low, in meek ſubmiſſion dreſt, But full of guile. Let not the fervent tongue, Prompt to deceive, with adulation ſmooth, Gain on your purpos'd will. Nor in the bower, Where woodbines flaunt, and roſes ſhed a couch, While evening draws her crimſon curtains round, Truſt your ſoft minutes with betraying Man. AND let th' aſpiring youth beware of love, Of the ſmooth glance beware▪ for 'tis too late, When on his heart the torrent-ſoftneſs pours. Then wiſdom proſtrate lies, and fading fame Diſſolves in air away; while the fond ſoul, Wrapt in gay viſions of unreal bliſs, Still paints th' i • luſ •• e form; the kindling grace; Th' inticing ſmile▪ the modeſt-ſeeming eye, Beneath whoſe beauteous beams, belying heaven, Lurk ſearchleſs cunning, cruelty, and death: And ſtill, • a • -warb • ing in his cheated ear, Her ſyren voice, enchanting, draws him on, To guileful ſhores, and meads of fatal joy. EVEN preſent, in the very lap of love Inglorious laid; while muſic flows around, Perfumes, and oils, and wine, and wanton hours; Amid the roſes fierce repentance rears Her ſnaky creſt: a quick-returning pang Shoots thro' the conſcious heart; where honour ſtill, And great deſign, againſt th' oppreſſive load Of luxury, by fits, impatient heave. BUT abſent, what fantaſtic woes, arous'd, Rage in each thought, by reſtleſs muſing fed, Chill the warm cheek, and blaſt the bloom of life? Neglected fortune flies; and ſliding ſwift, Prone into ruin, fall his ſcorn'd affairs. 'Tis nought but gloom around. The darken'd ſun Loſes his light. The roſy-boſom'd ſpring To weeping fancy pines; and you bright arch, Contracted, bends into a duſky vault. All Nature fades extinct; and ſhe alone Heard, felt, and ſeen, poſſeſſes every thought, Fills every ſenſe, and pants in every vein. Books are but formal dulneſs, tedious friends, And ſad amid the ſocial band he ſits; Lonely, and unattentive. From his tongue Th' unfiniſh'd period falls: while, borne away, On ſwelling thought, his wafted ſpirit flies To the vain boſom of his diſtant fair; And leaves the ſemblance of a lover, fix'd In melancholy ſite, with head declin'd, And love-dejected eyes. Sudden he ſtarts, Shook from his tender trance, and reſtleſs runs To glimmering ſhades, and ſympathetic glooms; Where the dun umbrage o'er the falling ſtream, Romantic, hangs; there thro' the penſive duſk Strays, in heart-thrilling meditation loſt, Indulging all to love; or on the bank Thrown, amid drooping lilies, ſwells the breeze With ſighs unceaſing, and the brook with tears. Thus in ſoft anguiſh he conſumes the day, Nor quits his deep retirement, till the moon Peeps thro' the chambers of the fleecy eaſt, Enlighten'd by degrees, and in her train Leads on the gentle hours: then forth he walks, Beneath the trembling languiſh of her beam, With ſoften'd ſoul, and wooes the bird of eve To mingle woes with his: or, while the world And all the ſons of care lie huſh'd in ſleep, Aſſociates with the midnight ſhadows drear; And, ſighing to the lonely taper, pours His idly-tortur'd heart into the page, Meant for the moving meſſenger of love; Where rapture burns on rapture, every line With riſing frenzy fir'd. But if on bed Delirious flung, ſleep from his pillow flies. All night he toſſes, nor the balmy power In any poſture finds; till the grey morn Lifts her pale luſtre on the paler wretch, Exani • ate by love: and then perhaps Exhauſted Nature ſinks a while to reſt, Still interrupted by diſtracted dreams That o'er the ſick imagination riſe, And in black colours paint the mimic ſcene. Oft with th' enchantreſs of his ſoul he talks; Sometimes in crouds diſtreſs'd; or if retir'd To ſecret-winding flower-enwoven bowers Far from the dull impertinence of Man, Juſt as he, credulous, his endleſs cares Begins to loſe in blind oblivious love, Snatch'd from her yielded hand, he knows not how, Thro' foreſts huge, and long untravel'd heaths With deſolation brown, he wanders waſte, In night and tempeſt wrapt; or ſhrinks aghaſt, Back, from the bending precipice; or wades The turbid ſtream below, and ſtrives to reach The farther ſhore; where ſuccourleſs, and ſad, She with extended arms his aid implores, But ſtrives in vain; borne by th' outrageous flood To diſtance down, he rides the ridgy wave, Or whelm'd beneath the boiling eddy ſinks. Theſe are the charming agonies of love, Whoſe miſery delights. But thro' the heart Should jealouſy its venom once diffuſe, 'Tis then delightful miſery no more, But agony unmix'd, inceſſant gall, Corroding every thought, and blaſting all Love's paradiſe. Ye fairy proſpects, then, Ye beds of roſes, and ye bowers of joy, Farewel! Ye gleamings of departed departing peace, Shine out your laſt! the yellow-tinging plague Internal viſion taints, and in a night Of livid gloom imagination wraps. Ah then! inſtead of love-enliven'd cheeks, Of ſunny features, and of ardent eyes With flowing rapture bright, dark looks ſucceed, Suffus'd, and glaring with untender fire, A clouded cloudy aſpect, and a burning cheek, Where the whole poiſon'd ſoul, malignant ſits, And frightens love away. Ten thouſand fears Invented wild, ten thouſand frantic views Of horrid rivals, hanging on the charms For which he melts in fondneſs, eat him up With fervent anguiſh, and conſuming rage. In vain reproaches lend their idle aid, Deceitful pride, and reſolution frail, Giving falſe peace a moment. Fancy pours, Afreſh, her beauties on his buſy thought, Her firſt endearments, twining round the ſoul, With all the witchcraft of enſnaring love. Strait the fierce ſtorm involves his mind anew, Flames thro' the nerves, and boils along the veins: While anxious doubt diſtracts the tortur'd heart; For even the ſad aſſurance of his fears Were eaſe peace to what he feels. Thus the warm youth Whom love deludes into his thorny wilds, Thro' flowery-tempting paths, or leads a life Of fever'd rapture, or of cruel care; His brighteſt aims extinguiſh'd all, and all His lively moments running down to waſte. BUT happy they! the happieſt of their kind! Whom gentle ſtars unite, and in one fate Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. 'Tis not the coarſer tie of human laws, Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind, That binds their peace, but harmony itſelf, Attuning all their paſſions into love; Where friendſhip full-exerts her ſofteſt power, Perfect eſteem enliven'd by deſire Ineffable, and ſympathy of ſoul; Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will, With boundleſs confidence: for nought but love Can anſwer love, and render bliſs ſecure. Let him, ungenerous, who, alone intent To bleſs himſelf, from ſordid parents buys The loathing virgin, in eternal care, Well-merited, conſume his nights and days: Let barbarous nations, whoſe inhuman love Is wild deſire, fierce as the ſuns they feel; Let eaſtern tyrants from the light of heaven Seclude their boſom-ſlaves, meanly poſſeſs'd Of a meer, lifeleſs, violated form: While thoſe whom love cements in holy faith, And equal tranſport, free as Nature live, Diſdaining fear. What is the world to them, Its pomp, its pleaſure, and its nonſenſe all! Who in each other claſp whatever fair High fancy forms, and laviſh hearts can wiſh; Something than beauty dearer, ſhould they look Or on the mind, or mind-illumin'd face; Truth, goodneſs, honour, harmony, and love, The richeſt bounty of indulgent HEAVEN. Mean-time a ſmiling offspring riſes round, And mingles both their graces. By degrees, The human bloſſom blows; and every day, Soft as it rolls along, ſhews ſome new charm The father's luſtre, and the mother's bloom. Then infant reaſon grows apace, and calls For the kind hand of an aſſiduous care. Delightful taſk! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to ſhoot, To pour the freſh • nſtruction o'er the mind, To breath 〈◊〉 • ivening ſpirit, and to fix The gene • p • rpoſe in the glowing breaſt. Oh ſpeak the joy,! ye, whom the ſudden tear Surprizes often, while you look around, And nothing ſtrikes your eye but ſights of bliſs, All various Nature preſſing on the heart: An elegant ſufficiency, content, Retirement, rural quiet, friendſhip, books, Eaſe and alternate labour, uſeful life, Progreſſive virtue, and approving HEAVEN. Theſe are the matchleſs joys of virtuous love; And thus their moments fly. The ſeaſons thus, As ceaſeleſs round a jarring world they roll, Still find them happy; and conſenting SPRING Sheds her own roſy garland on their heads: Till evening comes at laſt, ſerene and mild; When after the long vernal day of life, Enamour'd more, as more remembrance ſwells With many a proof of recollected love, Together down they ſink in ſocial ſleep; Together freed, their gentle ſpirits fly To ſcenes where love and bliſs immortal reign.

SUMMER

SUMMER. The ARGUMENT.

The ſubject propoſed. Invocation. Addreſs to Mr. DODINGTON. An introductory reflexion on the motion of the heavenly bodies; whence the ſucceſſion of the ſeaſons. As the face of Nature in this ſeaſon is almoſt uniform, the progreſs of the poem is a deſcription of a ſummer's day. The dawn. Sun-riſing. Hymn to the ſun. Forenoon. Summer inſects deſcrib'd. Hay-making. Sheep-ſhearing. Noon-day. A woodland retreat. Groupe of herds and flocks. A ſolemn grove: how it affects a contemplative mind. A cataract, and rude ſcene. View of ſummer in the torrid zone. Storm of thunder and lightning. A tale. The ſtorm over, a ſerene afternoon. Bathing. Hour of walking. Tranſition to the proſpect of a rich well-cultivated country; which introduces a panegyric on GREAT BRITAIN. Sun-ſet. Evening. Night. Summer meteors. A comet. The whole concluding with the praiſe of philoſophy.

SUMMER. FROM brightening fields of ether fair diſclos'd, Child of the ſun, refulgent SUMMER comes, In pride of youth, and felt thro' Nature's depth: He comes attended by the ſultry hours, And ever-fanning breezes, on his way; While, from his ardent look, the turning SPRING Averts her bluſhful face; and earth, and ſkies, All-ſmiling, to his hot dominion leaves. HENCE, let me haſte into the mid-wood ſhade, Where ſcarce a ſun-beam wanders thro' the gloom; And on the dark-green graſs, beſide the brink Of haunted ſtream, that by the roots of oak Rolls o'er the rocky channel, lie at large, And ſing the glories of the circling year. COME, Inſpiration! from thy hermit-ſeat, By mortal ſeldom found: may fancy dare, From thy fix'd ſerious eye, and raptur'd glance Shot on ſurrounding Heaven, to ſteal one look Creative of the poet, every power Exalting to an ecſtaſy of ſoul. AND thou, my youthful Muſe's early friend, In whom the human graces all unite: Pure light of mind, and tenderneſs of heart; Genius, and wiſdom; the gay ſocial ſenſe, By decency chaſtis'd; goodneſs and wit, In ſeldom-meeting harmony combin'd; Unblemiſh'd honour, and an active zeal, For BRITAIN's glory, Liberty, and Man: O DODINGTON! attend my rural ſong, Stoop to my theme, in ſpirit every line, And teach me to deſerve thy juſt applauſe. WITH what an awful world-revolving power Were firſt th' unwieldy planets launch'd along Th' illimitable void! Thus to remain Amid the flux of many thouſand years, That oft has ſwept the toiling race of Men And all their labour'd monuments away, Firm, unremitting, matchleſs, in their courſe; To the kind-temper'd change of night and day, And of the ſeaſons ever ſtealing round, Minutely faithful: Such TH' ALL PERFECT HAND! the perfect hand, That pois'd, impels, and rules the ſteady WHOLE. WHEN now no more th' alternate Twins are fir'd, And Cancer reddens with the ſolar blaze, Short is the doubtful empire of the night; And ſoon, obſervant of approaching day, The meek-ey'd Morn appears, mother of dews, At firſt faint-gleaming in the dappled eaſt: Till far o'er ether ſpreads the widening glow; And, from before the luſtre of her face, White break the clouds away. With quicken'd ſtep, Brown Night retires. Young Day pours in apace, And opens all the lawny proſpect wide. The dripping rock, the mountain's miſty top Swell on the ſight, and brighten with the dawn. Blue, thro' the duſk, the ſmoking currents ſhine; And from the bladed field the fearful hare Limps, aukward: while along the foreſt-glade The wild deer trip, and often turning gaze At early paſſenger. Muſic awakes, The native voice of undiſſembled joy; And thick around the woodland hymns ariſe. Rous'd by the cock, the ſoon-clad ſhepherd leaves His moſſy cottage, where with Peace he dwells; And from the crouded fold, in order, drives His flock, to taſte the verdure of the morn. FALSELY luxurious, will not Man awake; And, ſpringing from the bed of ſloth, enjoy The cool, the fragrant, and the ſilent hour, To meditation due, and ſacred ſong? For is there aught in ſleep can charm the wiſe? To lie in dead oblivion, loſing half The fleeting moments of too ſhort a life? Total extinction of th' enlighten'd ſoul; Or elſe to feveriſh vanity alive, Wilder'd, and toſſing thro' diſtemper'd dreams? Who would in ſuch a gloomy ſtate remain Longer than Nature craves; when every Muſe And every blooming pleaſure wait without, To bleſs the wildly-devious morning-walk? BUT yonder comes the powerful King of Day, Rejoicing in the eaſt. The leſſening cloud, The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow Illum'd with fluid gold, his near approach Betoken glad. Lo! now, apparent all, Aſlant the dew-bright earth, and colour'd air, He looks in boundleſs majeſty abroad; And ſheds the ſhining day, that burniſh'd plays On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering ſtreams, High-gleaming from afar. Prime chearer, light! Of all material beings firſt, and beſt! Efflux divine! Nature's reſplendent robe! Without whoſe veſting beauty all were wrapt In uneſſential gloom; and thou, O Sun! Soul of ſurrounding worlds! in whom beſt ſeen Shines out thy Maker! may I ſing of thee? 'TIS by thy ſecret, ſtrong, attractive force, As with a chain indiſſoluble bound, Thy Syſtem rolls entire: from the far bourne Of utmoſt Saturn, wheeling wide his round Of thirty years; to Mercury, whoſe diſk Can ſcarce be caught by philoſophic eye, Loſt in the near effulgence of thy blaze. INFORMER of the planetary train! Without whoſe quickening glance their cumbrous orbs Were brute unlovely maſs, inert and dead, And not as now the green abodes of life; How many forms of being wait on thee Inhaling ſpirit; from th' unfetter'd mind, By thee ſublim'd, down to the daily race, The mixing myriads of thy ſetting beam. THE vegetable world is alſo thine, Parent of Seaſons! who the pomp precede That waits thy throne, as thro' thy vaſt domain, Annual, along the bright ecliptic road, In world-rejoicing ſtate, it moves ſublime. Mean-time th' expecting nations, circled gay With all the various tribes of foodful earth, Implore thy bounty, or ſend grateful up A common hymn: while, round thy beaming car, High-ſeen, the Seaſons lead, in ſprightly dance Harmonious knit, the roſy-finger'd Hours, The Zephyrs floating looſe, the timely Rains, Of bloom ethereal the light-footed Dews, And ſoften'd into joy the ſurly Storms. Theſe, in ſucceſſive turn, with laviſh hand, Shower every beauty, every fragrance ſhower, Herbs, flowers, and fruits; till, kindling at thy touch, From land to land is fluſh'd the vernal year. NOR to the ſurface of enlivened earth, Graceful with hills and dales, and leafy woods, Her liberal treſſes, is thy force confin'd: But, to the bowel'd cavern darting deep, The mineral kinds confeſs thy mighty power. Effulgent, hence the veiny marble ſhines; Hence Labour draws his tools; hence burniſh'd War Gleams on the day; the nobler works of Peace Hence bleſs mankind, and generous Commerce binds The round of nations in a golden chain. THE unfruitful rock itſelf, impregn'd by thee, In dark retirement, forms the lucid ſtone. The lively Diamond drinks thy pureſt rays, Collected light, compact; that, poliſh'd bright, And all its native luſtre let abroad, Dares, as it ſparkles on the fair one's breaſt, With vain ambition emulate her eyes. At thee the Ruby lights its deepning glow, And with a waving radiance inward flames. From thee the ſapphire, ſolid ether, takes Its hue cerulean; and, of evening tinct, The purple-ſtreaming Amethyſt is thine. With thy own ſmile the yellow topaz burns. Nor deeper verdure dyes the robe of Spring, When firſt ſhe gives it to the ſouthern gale, Than the green Emerald ſhows. But, all combin'd, Thick thro' the whitening Opal play thy beams; Or, flying ſeveral from its ſurface, form A trembling variance of revolving hues, As the ſite varies in the gazer's hand. THE very dead creation, from thy touch, Aſſumes a mimic life. By thee refin'd, In brighter mazes, the relucent ſtream Plays o'er the mead. The precipice abrupt, Projecting horror on the blacken'd flood, Softens at thy return. The deſart joys Wildly, thro' all his melancholy bounds. Rude ruins glitter; and the briny deep, Seen from ſome pointed promontory's top, Far to the blue horizon's utmoſt verge, Reſtleſs, reflects a floating gleam. But this, And all the much-tranſported Muſe can ſing, Are to thy beauty, dignity, and uſe, Unequal far, great delegated ſource, Of light, and life, and grace, and joy below! HOW ſhall I then attempt to ſing of HIM, Who, LIGHT HIMSELF, in uncreated light Inveſted deep, dwells awfully retir'd From mortal eye, or angel's purer ken; Whoſe ſingle ſmile has, from the firſt of time, Fill'd, overflowing, all thoſe lamps of heaven, That beam for ever, thro' the boundleſs ſky: But, ſhould he hide his face, th' aſtoniſh'd ſun, And all th' extinguiſh'd ſtars, would looſening reel ſtart Wide from their ſpheres, and Chaos come again. AND yet was every faultering tongue of Man, ALMIGHTY FATHER MAKER! ſilent in thy praiſe; Thy Works themſelves would raiſe a general voice, Even in the depth of ſolitary woods, By human foot untrod, proclaim thy power, And to the quire celeſtial THEE reſound, Th' eternal cauſe, ſupport, and end of all! TO me be Nature's volume broad-diſplay'd: And to peruſe its all inſtructing page, Or, haply catching inſpiration thence, Some eaſy paſſage, raptur'd, to tranſlate, My ſole delight; as thro' the falling glooms Penſive I ſtray, or with the riſing dawn On Fancy's eagle-wing excurſive ſoar. NOW, flaming up the heavens, the potent ſun Melts into limpid air the high-rais'd clouds, And morning fogs miſts, that hover'd round the hills In party-colour'd bands; till wide unveil'd The face of Nature ſhines, from where earth ſeems, Far-ſtretch'd around, o meet the bending ſphere. HALF in a bluſh of cluſtering roſes loſt, Dew-dropping Coolneſs to the ſhade retires; There, on the verdant turf, or flowery bed, By gelid founts and careleſs rills to muſe; While tyrant Heat, diſpreading thro' the ſky, With rapid ſway, his burning influence darts On Man, and beaſt, and herb, and tepid ſtream. WHO can unpitying ſee the flowery race, Shed by the morn, their new fluſh'd bloom reſign, Before the parching beam? So fade the fair, When fevers revel thro' their azure veins. But one, the lofty follower of the ſun, Sad when he ſets, ſhuts up her yellow leaves, Drooping all night; and, when he warm returns, Points her enamour'd boſom to his ray. HOME, from his morning taſk, the ſwain retreats; His flock before him ſtepping to the fold: While the full-udder'd mother lows around The chearful cottage, then expecting food, The food of innocence, and health! The daw, The rook and magpie, to the grey-grown oaks (That the calm village in their verdant arms, Sheltering, embrace) direct their lazy flight; Where on the mingling boughs they fit embower'd, All the hot noon, till cooler hours ariſe. Faint, underneath, the houſhold fowls convene; And, in a corner of the buzzing ſhade, The houſe-dog, with the vacant greyhound, lies, Out-ſtretch'd, and ſleepy. In his ſlumbers one Attacks the nightly thief, and one exults O'er hill and dale; till, waken'd by the waſp, They ſtarting ſnap. Nor ſhall the Muſe diſdain To let the little noiſy ſummer-race Live in her lay, and flutter thro' her ſong: Not mean tho' ſimple; to the ſun ally'd, From him they draw their animating fire. WAK'D by his warmer ray, the reptile young Come wing'd abroad; by the light air upborn, Lighter, and full of ſoul. From every chink, And ſecret corner, where they ſlept away The wintry ſtorms; or riſing from their tombs, To higher life; by myriads, forth at once, Swarming they pour; of all the vary'd hues, Their beauty-beaming parent can diſcloſe. Ten thouſand forms! ten thouſand different tribes! People the blaze. To ſunny waters ſome By fatal inſtinct fly; where on the pool They, ſportive, wheel; or, ſailing down the ſtream, Are ſnatch'd immediate by the quick-ey'd trout, Or darting ſalmon. Thro' the green-wood glade Some love to ſtray; there lodg'd, amus'd and fed, In the freſh leaf. Luxurious, others make The meads their choice, and viſit every flower, And every latent herb: for the ſweet taſk, To propagate their kinds, and where to wrap, In what ſoft beds, their young yet undiſclos'd, Employs their tender care. Some to the houſe, The fold, and dairy, hungry, bend their flight; Sip round the pail, or taſte the curdling cheeſe: Oft, inadvertent, from the milky ſtream They meet their fate; or, weltering in the bowl, With powerleſs wings around them wrapt, expire. BUT chief to heedleſs flies the window proves A conſtant death; where, gloomily retir'd, The villain ſpider lives, cunning, and fierce, Mixture abhorr'd! Amid a mangled heap Of carcaſſes, in eager watch he ſits, O'erlooking all his waving ſnares around. Near the dire cell the dreadleſs wanderer oft Paſſes, as oft the ruffian ſhews his front. The prey at laſt enſnar'd, he dreadful darts, With rapid glide, along the leaning line; And, fixing in the wretch his cruel fangs, Strikes backward grimly pleas'd: the fluttering wing, And ſhriller ſound declare extreme diſtreſs, And aſk the helping hoſpitable hand. RESOUNDS the living ſurface of the ground: Nor undelightful is the ceaſeleſs hum, To him who muſes thro' the woods at noon; Or drowſy ſhepherd, as he lies reclin'd, With half-ſhut eyes, beneath the floating ſhade Of willows grey, cloſe-crowding o'er the brook. GRADUAL, from theſe what numerous kinds deſcend, Evading even the microſcopic eye! Full Nature ſwarms with life; one wondrous maſs Of animals, or atoms organiz'd, Waiting the vital Breath, when PARENT-HEAVEN Shall bid his ſpirit blow. The hoary fen, In putrid ſteams, emits the living livid cloud Of peſtilence. Thro' ſubterranean cells, Where ſearching ſun-beams ſcarce can find a way, Earth animated heaves. The flowery leaf Wants not its ſoft inhabitants. Secure, Within its winding citadel, the ſtone Holds multitudes. But chief the foreſt-boughs, That dance unnumber'd to the playful breeze, The downy orchard, and the melting pulp Of mellow fruit, the nameleſs nations feed Of evaneſcent inſects. Where the pool Stands mantled o'er with green, inviſible, Amid the floating verdure millions ſtray. Each liquid too, whether it pierces, ſooths, Inflames, refreſhes, or exalts the taſte, With various forms abounds. Nor is the ſtream Of pureſt chryſtal, nor the lucid air, Tho' one tranſparent vacancy it ſeems, Void of their unſeen people. Theſe, conceal'd By the kind art of forming HEAVEN, eſcape The groſſer eye of Man: for, if the worlds In worlds inclos'd ſhould on his ſenſes burſt, From cates ambroſial, and the nectar'd bowl, He would abhorrent turn; and in dead night, Whence ſilence ſleeps o'er all, be ſtun'd with noiſe. LET no preſuming impious railer tax CREATIVE WISDOM, as if aught was form'd In vain, or not for admirable ends. Shall little haughty ignorance pronounce His works unwiſe, of which the ſmalleſt part Exceeds the narrow viſion of her mind? As if upon a full proportion'd dome, On ſwelling columns heav'd, the pride of art! A critic-fly, whoſe feeble ray ſcarce ſpreads An inch around, with blind preſumption bold, Should dare to tax the ſtructure of the whole. And lives the Man, whoſe univerſal eye Has ſwept at once th' unbounded ſcheme of things; Mark'd their dependance ſo, and firm accord, As with unfaultering accent to conclude That This availeth nought? Has any ſeen The mighty chain of beings, leſſening down From INFINITE PERFECTION to the brink Of dreary Nothing, deſolate abyſs! From which aſtoniſh'd thought, recoiling, turns? Till then alone let zealous praiſe aſcend, And hymns of holy wonder, to that POWER, Whoſe wiſdom ſhines as lovely on our minds, As on our ſmiling eyes his ſervant-ſun. THICK in you ſtream of light, a thouſand ways, Upward, and downward, thwarting, and convolv'd, The quivering nations ſport: till, tempeſt-wing'd, Fierce Winter ſweeps them from the face of day. Even ſo luxurious Men, unheeding, paſs An idle ſummer-life in fortune's ſhine, A ſeaſon's glitter! Thus they flutter on From toy to toy, from vanity to vice; Till, blown away by death, oblivion comes Behind, and ſtrikes them from the book of life. NOW ſwarms the village o'er the jovial mead: The ruſtic youth, brown with meridian toil, Healthful, and ſtrong; full as the ſummer-roſe Blown by prevailing ſuns▪ the ruddy maid, Half naked, ſwelling on the ſight, and all Her kindled graces burning o'er her cheek. Even ſtooping age is here; and infant-hands Trail the long rake, or, with the fragrant load O'ercharg'd, amid the kind oppreſſion roll. Wide flies the tedded grain; all in a row Advancing broad, or wheeling round the field, They ſpread the breathing harveſt to the ſun, That throws refreſhful round a rural ſmell: Or, as they rake the green appearing ground, And drive the duſky wave along the mead, The ruſſet hay-cock riſes thick behind, In order gay. While heard from dale to dale, Waking the breeze, reſounds the blended voice Of happy labour, love, and ſocial glee. OR ruſhing thence, in one diffuſive band, They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog Compell'd, to where the mazy-running brook Forms a deep pool: this bank abrupt and high, And that fair-ſpreading in a pebbled ſhore. Urg'd to the giddy brink, much is the toil, The clamour much, of men, and boys, and dogs, Ere the ſoft fearful people to the flood Commit their woolly ſides. And oft the ſwain, On ſome impatient ſeizing, hurls them in: Embolden'd then, nor heſitating more, Faſt, faſt, they plunge amid the flaſhing wave, And panting labour to the farther ſhore. Repeated this, till deep the well-waſh'd fleece Has drunk the flood, and from his lively haunt The trout is baniſh'd by the ſordid ſtream; Heavy, and dripping, to the breezy brow Slow move the harmleſs race: where, as they ſpread Their ſwelling treaſures to the ſunny ray, Inly diſturb'd, and wondering what this wild Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints The country fill; and, toſs'd from rock to rock, Inceſſant bleatings run around the hills. At laſt, of ſnowy white, the gather'd flocks Are in the wattled pen innumerous preſs'd, Head above head; and, rang'd in luſty rows, The ſhepherds ſit, and whet the ſounding ſhears. The houſewife waits to roll her fleecy ſtores, With all her gay-dreſt maids attending round. One, chief, in gracious dignity inthron'd, Shines o'er the reſt, the paſtoral queen, and rays Her ſmiles, ſweet-beaming, on her ſhepherd-king; While the glad circle round them yield their ſouls To feſtive mirth, and wit that knows no gall. Meantime, their joyous taſk goes on apace: Some mingling ſtir the melted tar, and ſome, Deep on the new-ſhorn vagrant's heaving ſide, To ſtamp his maſter's cypher ready ſtand; Others th' unwilling wether drag along, And, glorying in his might, the ſturdy boy Holds by the twiſted horns th' indignant ram. Behold where bound, and of its robe bereft, By needy Man, that all-depending lord, How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies! What ſoftneſs in its melancholy face, What dumb complaining innocence appears! Fear not, ye gentle tribes, 'tis not the knife Of horrid ſlaughter that is o'er you wav'd; No, 'tis the tender ſwain's well-guided ſhears, Who having now, to pay his annual care, Borrow'd your fleece, to you a cumbrous load, Will ſend you bounding to your hills again. A SIMPLE ſcene! yet hence BRITANNIA ſees Her ſolid grandeur riſe: hence ſhe commands Th' exalted ſtores of every brighter clime, The treaſures of the ſun without his rage: Hence, fervent all, with culture, toil, and arts, Wide glows her land: her dreadful thunder hence Rides o'er the waves ſublime, and now, even now, Impending hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coaſt, Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world. 'TIS raging Noon; and, vertical, the Sun Darts on the head direct his forceful rays, O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye Can ſweep, a dazling deluge reigns; and all From pole to pole is undiſtinguiſh'd blaze. In vain the ſight, dejected to the ground, Stoops for relief; thence hot aſcending ſteams And keen reflection pain. Deep to the root Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields And ſlippery lawn and arid hue diſcloſe, Blaſt Fancy's blooms, and wither even the ſoul. Echo no more returns the chearful ſound Of ſharpening ſcythe: the mower ſinking heaps O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfum'd; And ſcarce a chirping graſs-hopper is heard Thro' the dumb mead. Diſtreſsful Nature pants. The very ſtreams look languid from afar; Or, thro' th' unſhelter'd glade, impatient, ſeem To hurl into the covert of the grove. ALL-CONQUERING Heat, oh intermit thy wrath! And on my throbbing temples potent thus Beam not ſo fierce! Inceſſant ſtill you flow, And ſtill another fervent flood ſucceeds, Pour'd on the head profuſe. In vain I ſigh, And reſtleſs turn, and look around for Night; Night is far off; and hotter hours approach. Thrice happy he! who that on the ſunleſs ſide Of a romantic mountain, foreſt-crown'd, Beneath the whole collected ſhade reclines: Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought, And freſh-bedew'd with ever-ſpouting ſtreams, Sits coolly calm; while all the world without, Unſatisfy'd, and ſick, toſſes in noon. Emblem inſtructive of the virtuous Man, Who keeps his temper'd mind ſerene, and pure, And every paſſion aptly harmoniz'd, Amid a jarring world with vice inflam'd. WELCOME, ye ſhades! ye bowery thickets, hail! Ye lofty pines! ye venerable oaks! Ye aſhes wild, reſounding o'er the ſteep! Delicious is your ſhelter to the ſoul, As to the hunted hart the ſallying ſpring, Or ſtream full flowing, that his ſwelling ſides Laves, as he floats along the herbag'd brink. Cool, thro' the nerves, your pleaſing comfort glide • ; The heart beats glad; the freſh expanded eye And ear reſume their watch; the ſinews knit; And life ſhoots ſwift thro' all the lighten'd limbs. AROUND th' adjoining brook, that purls along The vocal grove, now fretting o'er a rock, Now ſcarcely moving thro' a reedy pool, Now ſtarting to a ſudden ſtream, and now Gently diffus'd into a limpid plain; A various groupe the herds and flocks compoſe, Rural confuſion! On the graſſy bank Some ruminating lie; while others ſtand Half in the flood, and often bending ſip The circling ſurface. In the middle droops The ſtrong laborious ox, of honeſt front, Which incompos'd he ſhakes; and from his ſides The troublous inſects laſhes with his tail, Returning ſtill. Amid his ſubjects ſafe, Slumbers the monarch-ſwain; his careleſs arm Thrown round his head, on downy moſs ſuſtain'd; Here laid his ſcrip, with wholeſome viands fill'd; There, liſtening every noiſe, his watchful dog. LIGHT fly his ſlumbers, if perchance a flight Of angry gad-flies faſten on the herd; That ſtartling ſcatters from the ſhallow brook, In ſearch of laviſh ſtream. Toſſing the foam, They ſcorn the keeper's voice, and ſcour the plain, Thro' all the bright ſeverity of noon: While, from their labouring breaſts, a hollow moan Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills. OFT in this ſeaſon too the horſe, provok'd, While his big ſinews full of ſpirits ſwell, Trembling with vigour, in the heat of blood, Springs the high fence; and, o'er the field effus'd, Darts on the gloomy flood, with ſtedfaſt eye, And heart eſtrang'd to fear: his nervous cheſt, Luxuriant, and erect, the ſeat of ſtrength! Bears down th' oppoſing ſtream: quenchleſs his thirſt; He takes the river at redoubled draughts; And with wide noſtrils, ſnorting, ſkims the wave. STILL let me pierce into the midnight depth Of yonder grove, of wildeſt largeſt growth; That, forming high in air a woodland quire, Nods o'er the mount beneath. At every ſtep, Solemn, and ſlow, the ſhadows blacker fall, And all is awful liſtening gloom around. THESE are the haunts of meditation, theſe The ſcenes where ancient bards th' inſpiring breath, Extatic, felt; and, from this world retir'd, Convers'd with angels, and immortal forms, On gracious errands bent: to ſave the fall Of virtue ſtruggling on the brink of vice; In waking whiſpers, and repeated dreams, To hint pure thought, and warm the favour'd ſoul For future trials fated to prepare; To prompt the poet, who devoted gives His muſe to better themes; to ſooth the pangs Of dying worth, and from the patriot's breaſt, (Backward to mingle in deteſted war, But foremoſt when engag'd) to turn the death; And numberleſs ſuch offices of love, Daily, and nightly, zealous to perform. SHOOK ſudden from the boſom of the ſky A thouſand ſhapes or glide athwart the duſk, Or ſtalk majeſtic on. Deep-rous'd, I feel A ſacred terror, a ſevere delight, Creep through my mortal frame; and thus, methinks, A voice, than human more, th' abſtracted ear Of fancy ſtrikes. "Be not of us afraid, "Poor kindred Man; thy fellow-creatures, we, "From the ſame PARENT-POWER our beings drew, "The ſame our lord, and laws, and great purſuit. "Once ſome of us, like thee, thro' ſtormy life, "Toil'd, tempeſt-beaten, ere we could attain "This holy calm, this harmony of mind, "Where purity and peace immingle charms. "Then fear not us; but with reſponſive ſong, "Amid theſe dim receſſes, undiſturb'd "By noiſy folly and diſcordant vice, "Of Nature ſing with us, and Nature's GOD. "Here frequent, at the viſionary hour, "When muſing midnight reigns or ſilent noon, "Angelic harps are in full concert heard, "And voices chaunting from the wood-crown'd hill, "The deepening dale, or inmoſt ſilvan glade: "A privilege beſtow'd by us, alone, "On Contemplation, or the hallow'd ear "Of Poet, ſwelling to ſeraphic ſtrain." AND art thou, A young lady, well known to the author, who died at the age of eighteen, in the year 1738. STANLEY, of that ſacred band? Alas, for us too ſoon! Tho' rais'd above The reach of human pain, above the flight Of human joy; yet, with a mingled ray Of ſadly-pleas'd remembrance, muſt thou feel A mother's love, a mother's tender woe: Who ſeeks thee ſtill, in many a former ſcene; Seeks thy fair form, thy lovely-beaming eyes, Thy pleaſing converſe, by gay lively ſenſe Inſpir'd; where moral wiſdom mildly ſhone, Without the toil of art, and virtue glow'd, In all her ſmiles, without forbidding pride. But, O thou beſt of parents! wipe thy tears; Or rather to PARENTAL NATURE pay The tears of grateful joy, who for a while Lent thee this younger ſelf, this opening bloom Of thy enlighten'd mind and gentle worth. Believe the Muſe: the wintry blaſt of death Kills not the buds of virtue; no, they ſpread, Beneath the heavenly beam of brighter ſuns, Thro' endleſs ages, into higher powers. THUS up the mount, in airy viſion wrapt, I ſtray, regardleſs whither; till the ſound Of a near fall of water every ſenſe Wakes from the charm of thought: ſwift-ſhrinking back, I check my ſteps, and view the broken ſcene. SMOOTH to the ſhelving brink, a copious flood Rolls fair, and placid; where collected all, In one impetuous torrent, down the ſteep It thundering ſhoots, and ſhakes the country round. At firſt, an azure ſheet, it ruſhes broad; Then whitening by degrees, as prone it falls, And from the loud-reſounding rocks below Daſh'd in a cloud of foam, it ſends aloft A hoary miſt, and forms a ceaſeleſs ſhower. Nor can the tortur'd wave here find repoſe: But, raging ſtill amid the ſhaggy rocks, Now flaſhes o'er the ſcatter'd fragments, now Aſlant the hollow'd channel rapid darts; And falling faſt from gradual ſlope to ſlope, ſteep to ſteep, With wild infracted courſe, and leſſen'd roar, It gains a ſafer bed, and ſteals, at laſt, Along the mazes of the quiet vale. INVITED from the cliff, to whoſe dark brow He clings, the ſteep-aſcending eagle ſoars, With upward pinions thro' the flood of day; And, giving full his boſom to the blaze, Gains on the ſun; while all the tuneful race, Smit by afflictive noon, diſorder'd droop, Deep in the thicket; or, from bower to bower Reſponſive, force an interrupted ſtrain. The ſtock-dove only thro' the foreſt cooes, Mournfully hoarſe; oft ceaſing from his plaint, Short interval of weary woe! again The ſad idea of his murder'd mate, Struck from his ſide by ſavage fowler's guile, Acroſs his fancy comes; and then reſounds A louder ſong of ſorrow thro' the grove. BESIDE the dewy border let me ſit, All in the freſhneſs of the humid air; There in that hollow'd rock, groteſque and wild, An ample chair moſs-lin'd, and over head By flowering umbrage ſhaded; where the bee Strays diligent, and with th' extracted balm Of fragrant woodbine loads his little thigh. NOW, while I taſte the ſweetneſs of the ſhade, While Nature lies around deep-lull'd in Noon, Now come, bold Fancy, ſpread a daring flight, And view the wonders of the torrid Zone: Climes unrelenting! with whoſe rage compar'd, Yon blaze is feeble, and yon ſkies are cool. SEE, how at once the bright-effulgent ſun, Riſing direct, ſwift chaſes from the ſky The ſhort-liv'd twilight; and with ardent blaze Looks gayly fierce o'er all the dazling air; He mounts his throne; but kind before him ſends, Iſſuing from out the portals of the morn, The Which blows conſtantly between the tropics from the eaſt, or the collateral points, the north-eaſt and ſouth-eaſt: cauſed by the preſſure of the rarefied air on that before it, according to the diurnal motion of the ſun from eaſt to weſt. general Breeze, to mitigate his fire, And breathe refreſhment on a fainting world. Great are the ſcenes, with dreadful beauty crown'd And barbarous wealth, that ſee, each circling year, Returning ſuns and In all climates places between the tropics, the ſun as he paſſes and repaſtes in his annual motion, is twice a-year vertical perpendicular, which produces this effect. double ſeaſons paſs: Rocks rich in gems, and mountains big with mines, That on the high equator ridgy riſe, Whence many a burſting ſtream auriferous plays: Majeſtic woods, of every vigorous green, Stage above ſtage, high-waving o'er the hills; Or to the far horiſon wide diffus'd, A boundleſs deep immenſity of ſhade. Here lofty trees, to ancient ſong unknown, The noble ſons of potent heat and floods Prone-ruſhing from the clouds, rear high to Heaven Their thorny ſtems, and broad around them throw Meridian gloom. Here, in eternal prime, Unnumber'd fruits, of keen delicious taſte And vital ſpirit, drink amid the cliffs, And burning ſands that bank the ſhrubby vales, Redoubled day, yet in their rugged coats A friendly juice to cool its rage contain. BEAR me, Pomona! to thy citron groves; To where the lemon and the piercing lime, With the deep orange, glowing thro' the green, Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclin'd Beneath the ſpreading tamarind that ſhakes, Fann'd by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit; Deep in the night the maſſy locuſt ſheds, Quench my hot limbs; or lead me thro' the maze, Embowering endleſs, of the Indian fig; Or thrown at gayer eaſe, on ſome fair brow, Let me behold, by breezy murmurs cool'd, Broad o'er my head the verdant cedar wave, And high palmetos lift their graceful ſhade. O ſtretch'd amid theſe orchards of the ſun Give me to drain the cocoa's milky bowl, And from the palm to draw its freſhning wine! More bounteous, &c. Or, ſtretch'd amid theſe orchards of the ſun, O let me drain the cocoa's milky bowl, More bounteous far than all the frantic juice Which Bacchus pours. Nor, on its ſlender twigs Low-bending, be the full pomegranate ſcorn'd; Nor, creeping thro' the woods, the gelid race Of berries. Oft in humble ſtation dwells Unboaſted worth, above faſtidious pomp. Witneſs thou beſt Anâna, thou the pride Of vegetable life, beyond whate'er The poets imag'd in the golden age: Quick let me ſtrip thee of thy tufty ſpiny coat, Spread thy ambroſial ſtores, and feaſt with Jove! FROM theſe the proſpect varies. Plains immenſe Lie ſtretch'd below, interminable meads And vaſt ſavannahs, where the wand'ring eye, Unfix'd, is in a verdant ocean loſt. Another Flora there, of bolder hues, And richer ſweets, beyond our garden's pride, Plays o'er the fields, and ſhowers with ſudden hand Exuberant ſpring: for oft theſe valleys ſhift Their green-embroider'd robe to fiery brown, And ſwift to green again, as ſcorching ſuns, Or ſtreaming dews and torrent rains prevail. ALONG theſe lonely regions, where retir'd, From little ſcenes of art, great Nature dwells In awful ſolitude, and nought is ſeen But the wild herds that own no maſter's ſtall. Prodigious rivers roll their fatning ſeas: On whoſe luxuriant herbage, half-conceal'd, Like a fall'n cedar, far diffus'd his train, Cas'd in green ſcales, the crocodile extends. The flood diſparts: behold! in plaited mail, The Hippopotamus, or river-horſe. Behemoth rears his head. Glanc'd from his ſide, The darted ſteel in idle ſhivers flies: He fearleſs walks the plain, or ſeeks the hills; Where, as he crops the vary'd fare, the herds In widening circle round, forget their food, And at the harmleſs ſtranger wondering gaze. PEACEFUL, beneath primeval trees, that caſt Their ample ſhade o'er Niger's yellow ſtream, And where the Ganges rolls his ſacred wave; Or mid the central depth of blackning woods, High rais'd in ſolemn theatre around, Leans the huge elephant: wiſeſt of brutes! O truly wiſe! with gentle might endow'd, Tho' powerful, not deſtructive! here he ſees Revolving ages ſweep the changeful earth, And empires riſe and fall; regardleſs he Of what the never-reſting race of men Project: thrice happy! could he 'ſcape their guile, Who mine, from cruel avarice, his ſteps; Or with his towery grandeur ſwell their ſtate, The pride of kings; or elſe his ſtrength pervert, And bid him rage amid the mortal fray, Aſtoniſh'd at the madneſs of mankind. WIDE o'er the winding umbrage of the floods, Like vivid bloſſoms glowing from afar, Thick-ſwarm the brighter birds. For Nature's hand, That with a ſportive vanity has deck'd The plumy nations, there her gayeſt hues Profuſely pours. In all the regions of the torrid zone, the birds, though more beautiful in their plumage, are obſerved to be leſs melodious than ours. But, if ſhe bids them ſhine, Array'd in all the beauteous beams of day, Yet frugal ſtill, ſhe humbles them in ſong. Nor envy we the gaudy robes they lent Proud Montezuma's realm, whoſe legions caſt A boundleſs radiance waving on the ſun, While Philomel is ours; while in our ſhades, Thro' the ſoft ſilence of the liſtening night, The ſober-ſuited ſongſtreſs thrills her lay. BUT come, my Muſe, the deſart-barrier burſt, A wild expanſe of lifeleſs ſand and ſky? And, ſwifter than the toiling caravan, Shoot o'er the vale of Sennar; ardent climb The Nubian mountains, and the ſecret bounds Of jealous Abyſſinia boldly pierce. Thou art no ruffian, who beneath the maſk Of ſocial commerce com'ſt to rob their wealth; No holy fury thou, blaſpheming HEAVEN, With conſecrated ſteel to ſtab their peace, And thro' the land, yet red from with civil wounds, To ſpread the purple tyranny of Rome, Thou, like the harmleſs bee, may'ſt freely range, From mead to mead, bright with exalted flowers, From jaſmine grove to grove, may'ſt wander gay, Thro' palmy ſhades and aromatic woods, That grace the plains, inveſt the peopled hills, And up the more than alpine mountains wa • e. There on the breezy ſummit, ſpreading fair, For many a league; or on ſtupendous rocks, That from the ſun redoubling valley lift, Cool, to the middle air, their lawny tops; Where palaces, and fanes, and villas riſe; And gardens ſmile around, and cultur'd fields; And fountains guſh; and careleſs herds and flocks Securely ſtray; a world within itſelf, Diſdaining all aſſault: there let me draw Ethereal ſoul, there drink reviving gales, Profuſely breathing from the ſpicy groves, And vales of fragrance; there at diſtance hear The roaring floods, and cataracts that ſweep From diſembowel'd earth the virgin gold; And o'er the vary'd landſkip, reſtleſs, rove Fervent with life of every fairer kind; A land of wonders! which the ſun ſtill eyes With ray direct, as of the lovely realm Inamour'd, and delighting there to dwell. HOW chang'd the ſcene! In blazing height of noon, The ſun, oppreſs'd, is plung'd in thickeſt gloom. Still horror reigns, a dreary twilight round, Of ſtruggling night and day malignant mix'd. For to the hot equator crowding faſt, Where, highly rarefy'd, the yielding air Admits their ſtream, inceſſant vapours roll, Amazing clouds on clouds continual heap'd; Or whirl'd tempeſtuous by the guſty wind, Or ſilent borne along, heavy, and ſlow, With the big ſtores of ſteaming oceans charg'd. Meantime, amid theſe upper ſeas, condens'd Around the cold aërial mountain's brow, And by conflicting winds together daſh'd, The thunder holds his black tremendous throne, From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage; Till, in the furious elemental war Diſſolv'd, the whole precipitated maſs Unbroken floods and ſolid torrents pours. THE treaſures theſe, hid from the bounded ſearch Of ancient knowledge; whence, with annual pomp, Rich king of floods! o'erflows the ſwelling Nile. From his two ſprings in Gojam's ſunny realm, Pure-welling out, he thro' the lucid lake Of fair Dambea rolls his infant-ſtream. There, by the Naiads nurs'd, he ſports away His playful youth, amid the fragrant iſles, That with unfading verdure ſmile around. Ambitious, thence the manly river breaks; And gathering many a flood, and copious fed With all the mellow'd treaſures of the ſky, Winds in progreſſive majeſty along: Thro' ſplendid kingdoms now devolves his maze, Now wanders wild o'er ſolitary tracts Of life-deſerted ſand; till, glad to quit The joyleſs deſart, down the Nubian rocks From thundering ſteep to ſteep, he pours his urn, And Egypt joys beneath the ſpreading wave. HIS brother Niger too, and all the floods In which the full-form'd maids of Afric lave Their jetty limbs; and all that from the tract Of woody mountains ſtretch'd thro' gorgeous Ind Fall on Cormandel's coaſt, or Malabar; From The river that runs thro' S • am; on whoſe banks a vaſt multitude of thoſe inſects called Fire flies make a beautiful appearance in the night. Menam's orient ſtream, that nightly ſhines With inſect-lamps, to where Aurora ſheds On Indus' ſmiling banks the roſy ſhower: All, at this bounteous ſeaſon, ope their urns, And pour untoiling harveſt o'er the land. NOR leſs thy world, COLUMBUS, drinks, refreſh'd, The laviſh moiſture of the melting year. Wide o'er his iſles, the branching Oronoque Rolls a brown deluge; and the native drives To dwell aloft on life-ſufficing trees, At once his dome, his robe, his food, and arms. Swell'd by a thouſand ſtreams, impetuous hurl'd From all the roaring Andes, huge deſcends The mighty The river of the Amazons. Orellana. Scarce the Muſe Dares ſtretch her wing o'er this enormous maſs Of ruſhing water; ſcarce ſhe dares attempt The ſea-like Plata; to whoſe dread expanſe, Continuous depth, and wond'rous length of courſe, Our floods are rills. With unabated force, In ſilent dignity they ſweep along, And traverſe realms unknown, and blooming wilds, And fruitful deſarts, worlds of ſolitude, Where the ſun ſmiles, and ſeaſons teem in vain, Unſeen, and unenjoy'd. Forſaking theſe, O'er peopled plains they fair-diffuſive flow, And many a nation feed, and circle ſafe, In their ſoft boſom, many a happy iſle; The ſeat of blameleſs Pan yet undiſturb'd By chriſtian crimes, and Europe's cruel ſons. Thus pouring on they proudly ſeek the deep, Whoſe vanquiſh'd tide, recoiling from the ſhock, Yields to this liquid weight of half the globe; And ocean trembles for his green domain. BUT what avails this wondrous waſte of wealth? This gay profuſion of luxurious bliſs? This pomp of Nature? what their balmy meads, Their powerful herbs, and Ceres void of pain? By vagrant birds diſpers'd, and wafting winds, What their unplanted fruits? What the cool draughts, Th' ambroſial food, rich gums, and ſpicy health, Their foreſts yield? Their toiling inſects what, Their ſilky pride, and vegetable robes? Ah! what avail their fatal treaſures, hid Deep in the bowels of the pitying earth, Golconda's gems, and ſad Potoſi's mines; Where dwelt the gentleſt children of the ſun? What all that Afric's golden rivers roll, Her odorous woods, and ſhining ivory ſtores? Ill-fated race! the ſoftening arts of Peace, Whate'er the humanizing Muſes teach; The godlike wiſdom of the temper'd breaſt; Progreſſive truth, the patient force of thought; Inveſtigation calm, whoſe ſilent powers Command the world; the LIGHT that leads to HEAVEN; Kind equal rule, the government of laws, And all-protecting FREEDOM, which alone Suſtains the name and dignity of Man: Theſe are not theirs. The parent-ſun himſelf Seems o'er this world of ſlaves to tyrannize; And, with oppreſſive ray, the roſeat bloom Of beauty blaſting, gives the gloomy hue, And feature groſs: or worſe, to ruthleſs deeds, Mad jealouſy, blind rage, and fell revenge, Their fervid ſpirit fires. Love dwells not there, The ſoft regards, the tenderneſs of life, The heart-ſhed tear, th' ineffable delight Of ſweet humanity: theſe court the beam Of milder climes; in ſelfiſh fierce deſire, And the wild fury of voluptuous ſenſe, There loſt. The very brute-creation there This rage partakes, and burns with horrid fire. Lo! the green ſerpent, from his dark abode, Which even imagination fears to tread, At noon forth-iſſuing, gathers up his train In orbs immenſe, then, darting out anew, Seeks the refreſhing fount; by which diffus'd, He throws his folds: and while, with threatning tongue, And deathful jaws erect, the monſter curls His flaming creſt, all other thirſt, appall'd, Or ſhivering flies, or check'd at diſtance ſtands, Nor dares approach. But ſtill more direful he, The ſmall cloſe-lurking miniſter of fate, Whoſe high-concocted venom thro' the veins A rapid lightning darts, arreſting ſwift The vital current. Form'd to humble Man, This child of vengeful nature! There, ſublim'd To fearleſs luſt of blood, the ſavage race Roam, licens'd by the ſhading hour of guilt, And foul miſdeed, when the pure day has ſhut His ſacred eye. The tyger darting fierce, Impetuous on the prey his glance has doom'd. The lively-ſhining leopard, ſpeckled o'er With many a ſpot, the beauty of the waſte; And, ſcorning all the taming arts of Man, The keen Hyena, felleſt of the fell. Theſe, ruſhing from th' inhoſpitable woods Of Mauritania, or the tufted iſles, That verdant riſe amid the Lybian wild, Innumerous glare around their ſhaggy king, Majeſtic, ſtalking o'er the printed ſand; And, with in perious and repeated roars, Demand their fated food. The fearful flocks Crowd near the guardian ſwain; the nobler herds, Where round their lordly bull, in rural eaſe, They ruminating lie, with horror hear The coming rage. Th' awaken'd village ſtarts; And to her fluttering breaſt the mother ſtrains Her thoughtleſs infant. From the Pyrate's den, Or ſtern Morocco's tyrant ſang eſcap'd, The wretch half-wiſhes for his bonds again: While, uproar all, the wilderneſs reſounds, From Atlas eaſtward to the frighted Nile. UNHAPPY he! who from the firſt of joys, Society, cut off, is left alone Amid this world of death. Day after day, Sad on the jutting eminence he ſits, And views the main that ever toils below; Still fondly forming in the fartheſt verge, Where the round ether mixes with the wave, Ships, dim-diſcovered, dropping from the clouds. At evening, to the ſetting ſun he turns A mournful eye, and down his dying heart Sinks helpleſs; while the wonted roar is up, And hiſ • continual thro' the tedious night. Yet here, even here, into theſe black abodes Of monſters, unappall'd, from ſtooping Rome, And guilty Caeſar, LIBERTY retir'd, Her CATO following thro' Numidian wilds: Diſdainful of Campania's gentle plains, And all the green delights Auſonia pours; When for them ſhe muſt bend the ſervile knee, And fawning take the ſple • did robber's • o •• . NOR ſtop the terrors of theſe regions here. Commiſſion'd demo • oft, angels of wrath, Let looſe the raging elements. Breath'd hot, From all the boundleſs furnace of the ſky, And the wide glittering waſte of burning ſand, A ſuffocating wind the pilgrim ſmites With inſtant death. Patient of thirſt and toil, Son of the deſart! even the camel feels, Shot thro' his wither'd heart, the fiery blaſt. Or from the black-red ether, burſting broad, Sallies the ſudden whirlwind. Strait the ſands, Commov'd around, in gathering eddies play: Nearer and nearer ſtill they darkening come; Till, with the general all-involving ſtorm Swept up, the whole continuous wilds ariſe; And by their noon-day fount dejected thrown, Or ſunk at night in ſad diſaſtrous ſleep, Beneath deſcending hills, the caravan Is buried deep. In Cairo's crowded ſtreets, Th' impatient merchant, wondering, waits in vain, And Mecca ſaddens at the long delay. BUT chief at ſea, whoſe every flexile wave Obeys the blaſt, th' aë • ial tumult ſwells. In the dread ocean, undulating wide, Beneath the radiant line that girts the globe, The circling Typhon and Eenephia, names terms for particular ſtorms or hurricane • , known only between the tropic • . Typhon, whirl'd from point to point, Exhauſting all the rage of all the ſky, And dire Typhon and Eenephia, names terms for particular ſtorms or hurricane • , known only between the tropic • . Ecnephia reign. Amid the heavens, Falſely ſerene, deep in a cloudy Called by ſailors the Ox-Eye, being in appearance at firſt no bigger. ſpeck Compreſs'd, the mighty tempeſt brooding dwells: Of no regard, ſave to the ſkilful eye, Fiery and ſoul, the ſmall prognoſtic hangs Alo • t, or on the promontory's brow Muſters its force. A faint deceitful calm, A fluttering gale, the demon ſends before, To tempt the ſpreading ſail. Then down at once, Precipitant, deſcends a mingled maſs Of roaring winds, and flame, and ruſhing floods. In wild amazement fix'd the ſailor ſtands. Art is too ſlow. By rapid fate oppreſs'd, His broad-wing'd veſſel drinks the whelming tide, Hi • • n the boſom of the black abyſs. With ſuch mad Seas the daring VASCO DE GAMA, the firſt who ſailed round Africa, by the Cape of Good Hope, to the Eaſt-Indies. GAMA fought, For many a day, and many a dreadful night, Inceſſant, lab'ring round the ſtormy Cape; By bold ambition led, and bolder thirſt Of gold. For then from antient gloom emerg'd The riſing world of trade: the Genius, then, Of navigation, that, in hopeleſs ſloth, Had ſlumber'd on the vaſt Atlantic deep, For idle ages, ſtarting, heard at laſt The DON HENRY, third ſon to John the firſt, king of Portugal. His ſtrong Genius to the diſcovery of new countries wa • the ſource of all the modern improvement • in navigation. LUSITANIAN PRINCE; who, HEAV'N-inſpir'd, To love of uſeful glory rous'd mankind▪ And in unbounded Commerce mix'd the world. INCREASING ſtill the terrors of theſe ſtorms, His jaws hor • ific arm'd with threefold fate, Here dwells the direful ſhark. Lur'd by the ſcent Of ſtreaming crowds, of rank diſeaſe, and death, Behold! he ruſhing cuts the briny flood, Swift as the gale can bear the ſhip along; And, from the partners of that cruel trade, Which ſpoils unhappy Guinea of her ſons, Demands his ſhare of prey; demands themſelves. The ſtormy fates deſcend: one death involves Tyrants and ſlaves; when ſtrait, their mangled Limbs Craſhing at once, he dyes the purple ſeas With gore, and riots in the vengeful meal. WHEN o'er this world, by equinoctial rains Flooded immenſe, looks out the joyleſs ſun, And draws the copious ſteam: from ſwampy fens, Where putrefaction into life ferments, And breathes deſtructive myriads; or from woods, Impenetrable ſhades, receſſes foul, In vapours rank and blue corruption wrapt, Whoſe gloomy horrors yet no deſperate foot Has ever dar'd to pierce; then, waſteful, forth Walks the dire Power of peſtilent diſeaſe. A thouſand hideous f • ends her courſe attend, Sick Nature blaſting, and to heartleſs woe, And feeble deſolation, caſting down The towering hopes and all the pride of Man. Such as, of late, at Curthagena quench'd The BRITISH fire. You, gallant VERNON, ſaw The miſerable ſcene; you, pitying ſaw To infant-weakneſs ſunk the warrior's arm; Saw the deep-racking • ang, the ghaſtly form, The lip pale-quivering, and the beamleſs eye No more with ardour bright: you heard the groans Of agonizing ſhips, from ſhore to ſhore; Heard, nightly plung'd amid the ſullen waves, The frequent corſe; while on each other fix'd, In ſad preſage, the blank aſſiſtants ſeem'd, Silent, to aſk, whom fate would next demand. WHAT need I mention thoſe inclement ſkies, Where, frequent o'er the ſickening city, plague, The fierceſt child of NEMESIS divine, Deſcends? Theſe are the cauſes ſuppoſed to be the firſt origin of the Plague, in Dr. MEAD's elegant book on that ſubject. From Ethiopia's poiſon'd woods, From ſtifled Cairo's filth, and fetid fields With locuſt-armies putrefying heap'd, This great deſtroyer ſprung. Her awful rage The brutes eſcape. Man is her deſtin'd prey▪ Intemperate Man! and, o'er his guilty domes, She draws a cloſe incumbent cloud of death▪ Uninterrupted by the living winds, Forbid to blow a wholeſome breeze; and ſtain'd With many a mixture by the ſun, ſuffus'd, Of angry aſpect. Princely wiſdom, then, Dejects his watchful eye; and from the hand Of feeble juſtice, ineffectual, drop The ſword and balance: mute the voice of joy, And huſh'd the clamour of the buſy world. Empty the ſtreets, with uncouth verdure clad; Into the worſt of deſarts ſudden turn'd The chearful haunt of Men: unleſs eſcap'd From the doom'd houſe, where matchleſs horror reigns, Shut up by barbarous fear, the ſmitten wretch, With frenzy wild, breaks looſe; and, loud to heaven Screaming, the dreadful policy arraigns, Inhuman, and unwiſe. The ſullen door, Yet uninfected, on its cautious hinge Fearing to turn, abhors ſociety. Dependants, friends, relations, Love himſelf, Savag'd by woe, forget the tender tie, The ſweet engagement of the feeling heart. But vain their ſelfiſh care: the circling ſky, The wide enlivening air is full of fate▪ And, ſtruck by turns, in ſolitary pangs They fall, unbleſt, untended, and unmourn'd. Thus o'er the proſtrate city black Deſpair Extends her raven wing; while, to compleat The ſcene of deſolation, ſtretch'd around, The grim guards ſtand, denying all retreat, And give the flying wretch a better death. MUCH yet remains unſung: the rage intenſe Of brazen-vaulted ſkies, of iron fields, Where drought and famine ſtarve the blaſted year: Fi • 'd by the torch of noon to tenfold rage, Th' infuriate hill that ſhoots the pillar'd flame; And, rous'd within the ſubterranean world, Th' expanding earthquake, that reſiſtleſs ſhakes Aſpiring cities from their ſolid baſe, And buries mountains in the flaming gulph. But 'tis enough; return, my vagrant Muſe▪ A nearer ſcene of horror calls thee home. BEHOLD, ſlow-ſettling o'er the lurid grove Unuſual darkneſs broods; and growing gains The full poſſeſſion of the ſky, ſurcharg'd With wrathful vapour, from the ſecret beds, Where ſleep the mineral generations, drawn. Thence Nit • e, Sulphur, and the fiery ſpume Of fat B • t • m • n, ſteaming on the day, With various tinctur'd trains of l •• ent flame Pollute the ſky, and in yon baleful cloud, A reddening gloom, a magazine of ſate, Ferment; till, by the touch ethereal rous'd, The daſh of clouds, or irritating war Of fighting winds, while all is calm below, They furious ſpring. A boding ſilence reigns, Dread thro' the dun expanſe; ſave the dull ſound, That from the mountain, previous to the ſtorm, Rolls o'er the muttering earth, diſturbs the flood, And ſhakes the foreſt-leaf without a breath. Prone, to the loweſt vale, th' aë • ial tribes Deſcend: the tempeſt-loving raven ſcarce Dares wing the dubious duſk. In • rueful g • ze The cattle ſtand, and on the ſcowling heavens Caſt a deploring eye; by Man forſook, Who to the crowded cottage hies him faſt, Or ſeeks the ſhelter of the downward cave. 'Tis liſtening fear, and dumb amazement all: When to the ſtartled eye the ſudden glance, Appears far ſouth, eruptive thro' the cloud; And following flower, in exploſion vaſt, The Thunder raiſes his tremendous voice. At firſt, heard ſolemn o'er the verge of heaven, The tempeſt growls; but as it nearer comes, And rolls its awful burthen on the wind, The lightnings flaſh a larger curve, and more The noiſe aſtounds: till over head a ſheet Of livid flame diſcloſes wide; then ſhuts And opens wider; ſhuts and opens ſtill Expanſive, wrapping ether in a blaze. Follows the looſen'd, aggravated roar, Enlarging, deepening, mingling; peal on peal Cruſh'd horrible, convulſing heaven and earth. DOWN comes a deluge of ſonorous hail, Or prone-deſcending rain. Wide-rent, the clouds. Pour a whole flood; and yet, its flame unquench'd, Th' unconquerable lightning ſtruggles through, Ragged and fierce, or in red whirling balls, And fires the mountains with redoubled rage. Black from the ſtroke, above, the ſmouldring pine Stands a ſad ſhatter'd trunk; and, ſtretch'd below, A lifeleſs group the blaſted cattle lie: Here the ſoft flocks, with that ſame harmleſs look They wore alive, and ruminating ſtill In fancy's eye; and there the frowning bull, And ox half-rais'd. Struck on the caſtled cliff, The venerable tower and ſpiry fane Reſign their aged pride. The gloomy woods Start at the flaſh, and from their deep receſs, Wide-flaming out, their trembling inmates ſhake. Amid Carnarvon's mountains rages loud The repercuſſive roar: with mighty cruſh, Into the flaſhing deep, from the rude rocks Of Penmanmaur heap'd hideous to the ſky, Tumble the ſmitten cliffs; and Snowden's peak, Diſſolving, inſtant yields his wintry load. Far-ſeen, the heights of heathy Cheviot blaze, And Thule bellows thro' her utmoſt iſles. GUILT hears appall'd, with deeply troubled thought; And yet not always on the guilty head Deſcends the ſated flaſh. Young CELADON And his AMELIA were a matchleſs pair, With equal virtue form'd, and equal grace, The ſame diſtinguiſh'd by their ſe • a • one: Hers the mild luſtre of the blooming morn, And his the radiance of the riſen day. THEY lov'd. But ſuch their guileleſs guiltleſs paſſion was, As in the dawn of time inform'd the heart Of innocence, and undiſſembling truth. 'Twas friendſhip heighten'd by the mutual wiſh, Th' enchanting hope, and ſympathetic glow, Beam'd from the mutual eye. Devoting all To love, each was to each a dearer ſelf; Supremely happy in th' awaken'd power Of giving joy. Alone, amid the ſhades, Still in harmonious intercourſe they liv'd The rural day, and talk'd the flowing heart, Or ſigh'd, and look'd unutterable things. SO paſs'd their life, a clear united ſtream, By care unruffled; till, in evil hour, The tempeſt caught them on the tender walk, Heedleſs how far, and where its mazes ſtray'd, While, with each other bleſt, creative love Still bade eternal Eden ſmile around. Preſaging inſtant fate Heavy with inſtant fate her boſom heav'd Unwonted ſighs, and ſtealing oft a look Of the big gloom on C • LADON her eye Fell • earful, wetting her diſorder'd cheek. In vain aſſuring love, and confidence In HEAVEN, repreſs'd her fear; it grew, and ſhook Her frame near diſſolution. He perceiv'd Th' unequal conflict, and as angels look On dying ſaints, his eyes compaſſion ſhed, With love illumin'd high. "Fear not," he ſaid, "Sweet innocence! thou ſtranger to offence, "And inward ſtorm! He who you ſkies involves "In frowns of darkneſs, ever ſmiles on thee, "With kind regard. O'er thee the ſecret ſhaft "That waſtes at midnight, or th' undreaded hour "Of noon, flies harmleſs: and that very voice, "Which thunders terror thro' the guilty heart, "With tongues of Seraphs whiſpers peace to thine. "'Tis ſafety to be near thee ſure, and thus "To claſp perfection!" From his void embrace, (Myſterious Heaven!) that moment, to the ground, A blacken'd corſe, was ſtruck the beauteous maid. But who can paint the lover, as he ſtood, Pierc'd by ſevere amazement, hating life, Speechleſs, and fix'd in all the death of woe! So, faint reſemblance, on the marble tomb, The well-diſſembled mourner ſtooping ſtands, For ever ſilent, and for ever ſad. AS from the face of heaven the ſhatter'd clouds Tumultuous rove, th' interminable ſky Sublimer ſwells, and o'er the world expands A purer azure. . . . Thro' the lighten'd air A higher luſtre . . . . Nature, from the ſtorm, Shines out afreſh; and thro' the lighten'd air A higher luſtre and a clearer calm, Diffuſive, tremble; while, as if in ſign Of danger paſt, a glittering robe of joy, Set off abundant by the yellow ray, Inveſts the fields, and nature ſmiles reviv'd. yet dropping from diſtreſs. 'TIS Beauty all, and grateful ſong around, Join'd to the low of kine, and numerous bleat Of flocks thick-nibbling thro' the clover'd vale. And ſhall the hymn be marr'd by thankleſs Man, Moſt-favour'd; who with voice articulate Should lead the chorus of this lower world? Shall he, ſo ſoon forgetful of the hand That huſh'd the thunder, and ſerenes the ſky, Extinguiſh'd feel that ſpark the tempeſt wak'd, That ſenſe of powers exceeding far his own, Ere yet his feeble heart has loſt its fears? CHEAR'D by the milder beam, the ſprightly youth Speeds to the well-known pool, whoſe cryſtal depth A ſandy bottom ſhews. A while he ſtands Gazing th' inverted landſkip, half afraid To meditate the blue profound below; Then plunges headlong down the circling flood. His ebon treſſes, and his roſy cheek Inſtant emerge; and thro' th' obedient wave, At each ſhort breathing by his lip repell'd, With arms and legs according well, he makes, As humour leads, an eaſy-winding path; While, from his poliſh'd ſides, a dewy light Effuſes on the pleas'd ſpectators round. THIS is the pureſt exerciſe of health, The kind refreſher of the ſummer-heats; Nor, when cold Winter keens the brightening flood, Would I weak-ſhivering linger on the brink. Thus life redoubles, and is oft preſerv'd, By the bold ſwimmer, in the ſwift illapſe Of accident diſaſtrous. Hence the limbs Knit into force; and the ſame Roman arm, That roſe victorious o'er the conquer'd earth, Firſt learn'd, while tender, to ſubdue the wave. Even, from the body's purity, the mind Receives a ſecret ſympathetic aid. CLOSE in the covert of an hazel copſe, Where winded into pleaſing ſolitudes Runs out the rambling dale, young DAMON ſat, Penſive, and pierc'd with love's delightful pangs. There to the ſtream that down the diſtant rocks Hoarſe-murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that play'd Among the bending willows, falſely he Of MUSIDORA's cruelty complain'd. She felt his flame; but deep within her breaſt, In baſhful coyneſs, or in maiden pride, The ſoft return conceal'd; ſave when it ſtole In ſide-long glances from her downcaſt eye, Or from her ſwelling ſoul in ſtifled ſighs. Touch'd by the ſcene, no ſtranger to his vows, He fram'd a melting lay, to try her heart; And, if an infant paſſion ſtruggled there, To call that paſſion forth. Thrice happy ſwain! A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine. For lo! conducted by the laughing Loves, This cool retreat his MUSIDORA ſought: Warm in her cheek the ſultry ſeaſon glow'd; And, robe'd in looſe array, ſhe came to bathe Her fervent limbs in the ref • eſhing ſtream. What ſhall he do? In ſweet confuſion loſt, And dubious flutterings, he a while remain'd: A pure ingenuous elegance of ſoul, A delicate refinement, known to few, Perplex'd his breaſt, and urg'd him to retire. But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, ſay, Say, ye ſevereſt, what would you have done? Meantime, this fairer nymph than ever bleſt Arcadian ſtream, with timid eye around The banks ſurveying, ſtrip'd her beauteous limbs, To taſte the lucid coolneſs of the flood. Ah then! not Paris on the pi • y ſhady top Of Ida panted ſtronger, when aſide The rival-goddeſſes the veil divine Caſt unconfin'd, and gave him all their charms, Than, DAMON, thou; as from the ſnowy leg, And ſlender foot, th' inverted ſilk ſhe drew; As the ſoft touch diſſolv'd the virgin zone; And, thro' the parting robe, th' alternate breaſt, With youth wild-throbbing, on thy lawleſs gaze In full luxuriance roſe. But, deſperate youth, How durſt thou riſque the ſoul-diſtracting view; As from her naked limbs, of glowing white, Harmonious ſwell'd by Nature's fineſt hand. In folds looſe-floating fell the fainter lawn; And fair-expos'd ſhe ſtood, ſhrunk from herſelf With fancy bluſhing, at the doubtful breeze Alarm'd, and ſtarting like the fearfu • fawn? Then to the flood ſhe ruſh'd; the parted flood Its lovely gueſt with cloſing waves receiv'd; And every beauty ſoftening, every grace Fluſhing anew, a mellow luſtre ſhed: As ſhines the lily thro' the chryſtal mild; Or as the roſe amid the morning dew, Freſh from Aurora's hand, more ſweetly glows. While thus ſhe wanton'd, now beneath the wave But ill-conceal'd; and now with ſtreaming locks, That half-embrac'd her in a humid veil, Riſing again, the latent DAMON drew Such madning draughts of beauty to the ſoul. As for a while o'erwhelm'd his raptur'd thought With luxury too daring. Check'd, at laſt, By love's reſpectful modeſty, he deem'd. The theft profane, if aught profane to love Can e'er be deem'd; and, ſtruggling from the ſhade, With headlong hurry fled; but firſt theſe lines, Trac'd by his ready pencil, on the bank With trembling hand he threw. "Bathe on, my fair, "Yet unbeheld ſave by the ſacred eye "Of faithful love. I go to guard thy haunt, "To keep from thy receſs each vagrant foot, "And each licentious eye." With wild ſurprize, As if to marble ſtruck, devoid of ſenſe, A ſtupid moment motionleſs ſhe ſtood: So •• ands the The Venus of Medici. ſtatue that enchants the world, So bending tries to veil the matchleſs boaſt, The mingled beauties of exulting Greece. Recovering, ſwift ſhe flew to find thoſe robes Which bliſsful Eden knew not; and, array'd In careleſs haſte, th' alarming paper ſnatch'd. But when her DAMON's well-known hand ſhe ſaw, Her terrors vaniſh'd, and a ſofter train Of mix'd emotions, hard to be deſcrib'd, Her ſudden boſom ſeiz'd: ſhame void of guilt, The charming bluſh of innocence, eſteem And admiration of her lover's flame, By modeſty exalted: even a ſenſe Of ſelf-approving beauty ſtole acroſs Her buſy thought. At length, a tender calm Huſh'd by degrees the tumult of her ſoul; And on the ſpreading beach, that o'er the ſtream Incumbent hung, ſhe with the ſilvan pen Of rural lovers this confeſſion carv'd, Which ſoon her DAMON kiſs'd with weeping joy: "Dear youth! ſole judge of what theſe verſes mean, "By fortune too much favour'd, but by love, "Alas! not favour'd leſs, be ſtill as now "Diſcreet: the time may come you need not fly." THE ſun has loſt his rage: his downward orb Shoots nothing now but animating warmth, And vital luſtre; that, with various ray, Lights up the clouds, thoſe beauteous robes of heaven, Inceſſant roll'd into romantic ſhapes, The dream of waking fancy! Broad below, Cover'd with ripening fruits, and ſwelling faſt Into the perfect year, the pregnant earth And all her tribes rejoice. Now the ſoft hour Of walking comes: for him who lonely loves To ſeek the diſtant hills, and there converſe With Nature; there to harmonize his heart, And in pathetic ſong to breathe around The harmony to others. Social friends, Attun'd to happy uniſon of ſoul; To whoſe exalting eye a fairer world, Of which the vulgar never had a glimpſe, Diſplays its charms; whoſe minds are richly fraught With philoſophic ſtores, ſuperior light; And in whoſe breaſt, enthuſiaſtic, burns Virtue, the ſons of intereſt deem romance; Now call'd abroad enjoy the falling day▪ Now to the verdant Portico of woods, To Nature's vaſt Lyce • m, forth they walk; By that kind School where no proud maſter reigns, The full free converſe of the friendly heart Improving and improv'd. Now from the world, Sacred to ſweet retirement, lovers ſteal, And pour their ſouls in tranſport, which the SIRE Of love approving hears, and calls it good. Which way, AMANDA, ſhall we bend our courſe? The choice perplexes. Wherefore ſhould we chuſe? All is the ſame with thee. Say, ſhall we wind Along the ſtreams? or walk the ſmiling mead? Or court the foreſt-glades? or wander wild Among the waving harveſts? or aſcend, While radiant Summer opens all its pride, Thy hill, delightful The old name of Richmond, ſignifying in Saxon Shining, of Splendor. Shene? Here let us ſweep The boundleſs landſkip: now the raptur'd eye, Exulting ſwift, to huge AUGUSTA ſend, Now, to the High-gate and Hamſtead▪ Siſter-hills that ſkirt her plain, To lofty Harrow now, and now to where Majeſtic Windſor lifts his princely brow. In lovely contraſt to this glorious view, Calmly magnificent, then will we turn To where the ſilver THAMES firſt rural grows. There let the feaſted eye unweary'd ſtray: Luxurious, there, rove thro' the pendan • woods That nodding hang o'er HARRINGTON's retreat; And, ſtooping thence to Ham's embowering walks, Beneath whoſe ſhades, in ſpotleſs peace retir'd, With HER the pleaſing partner of his heart, The worthy QUEENSB'RY yet laments his GAY, And poliſh'd CORNBURY wooes the willing muſe, Slow let us trace the matchleſs VALE OF THAMES; Fair-winding up to where the Muſes haunt In Twi • nam's bowers, and for their POPE implore The healing God In his laſt ſickneſs., to royal Hampton's pile, To Clermont's terraſs'd height, and F • ſher's groves, Where in the ſweeteſt ſolitude, embrac'd By the ſoft windings of the ſilent Mole, From courts and ſenates PELHAM finds Repoſe. Inchanting vale! beyond whate'er the Muſe Has of Achaia or Heſperia ſung! O vale of bliſs! O ſoftly-ſwelling hills! On which the Power of Cultivation lies, And joys to ſee the wonders of his toil. HEAVENS! what a goodly proſpect ſpreads around▪ Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawn • , and ſpires, And glittering towns, and gilded ſtreams, till all The ſtretching landſkip into ſmoke decays! Happy BRITANNIA! where the QUEEN OF ARTS, Inſpiring vigour, LIBERTY abroad Walks, unconfin'd, even to thy fartheſt cotts, And ſcatters plenty with unſparing hand. RICH is thy ſoil, and merciful thy clime; Thy ſtreams unfailing in the ſummer's drought; Unmatch'd thy guardian-oaks; thy vallies float With golden waves: and on thy mountains flocks Bleat numberleſs; while, roving round their ſides, Bellow the blackening herds in luſty droves. Beneath, thy meadows glow, and riſe unquell'd Againſt the mower's ſcythe. On every hand, Thy villas ſhine. Thy country teems with wealth; And property aſſures it to the ſwain, Pleas'd, and unweary'd, in his guarded toil. FULL are thy cities with the ſons of art; And trade and joy, in every buſy ſtreet, Mingling are heard: even Drudgery himſelf, As at the car he ſweats, or duſty hews The palace-ſtone, looks gay. Thy crowded ports, Where riſing maſts an endleſs proſpect yield, With labour burn, and echo to the ſhouts Of hurry'd ſailor, as he hearty waves His laſt adieu, and looſening every ſheet, Reſigns the ſpreading veſſel to the wind. BOLD, firm, and graceful, are thy generous youth, By hardſhip ſinew'd, and by danger fir'd, Scattering the nations where they go; and firſt Or on the liſted plain, or ſtormy wintry ſeas. Mild are thy glories too, as o'er the plans Of thriving peace thy thoughtful fires preſide; In genius, and ſubſtantial learning, high; For every virtue, every worth renown'd; Sincere, plain-hearted, hoſpitable, kind; Yet like the muſtering thunder when provok'd, The dread of tyrants, and the ſole reſource Of thoſe that under grim oppreſſion groan. THY SONS OF GLORY many! ALFRED thine, In whom the ſplendor of heroic war, And more heroic peace, when govern'd well, Combine; whoſe hallow'd name the virtues ſaint▪ And his own Muſes love, the beſt of Kings. With him thy EDWARDS and thy HENRY's ſhine▪ Names dear to fame; the firſt who deep impreſs'd On haughty Gaul the terror of thy arms, That awes her genius ſtill. In Stateſmen thou, And Patriots, fertile. Thine a ſteady MORE, Who, with a generous tho' miſtaken zeal, Withſtood a brutal tyrant's uſeful rage, Like CATO firm, like ARISTIDES juſt, Like rigid CINCINNATUS nobly poor, A dauntleſs ſoul erect, who ſmil'd on death. Frugal, and wiſe, a WALSINGHAM is thine; A DRAKE, who made thee miſtreſs of the deep, And bore thy name in thunder round the world▪ Then flam'd thy ſpirit high: but who can ſpeak The numerous worthies of the MAIDEN REIGN? In RALEIGH mark their every glory mix'd, RALEIGH, the ſcourge of Spain! whoſe breaſt with all The ſage, the patriot, and the hero burn'd. Nor ſunk his vigour, when a coward-reign The warrior • etter'd, and at laſt reſign'd, To glut the vengeance of a vanquiſh'd foe. Then, active ſtill and unreſtrain'd, his mind Explor'd the vaſt extent of ages paſt, And with his priſon hours enrich'd the world; Yet found no times, in all the long reſearch, So glorious, or ſo baſe, as thoſe he prov'd, In which he conquer'd, and in which he bled. Nor can the Muſe the gallant SIDNEY paſs, The plume of war! with early lawrels crown'd, The Lover's myrtle, and the Poet's bay. A HAMPDEN too is thine, illuſtrious land, Wiſe, ſtrenuous, firm, of unſubmitting ſoul, Who ſtem'd the torrent of a downward age To ſlavery prone, and bade thee riſe again, In all thy native pomp of freedom bold. Bright, at his call, thy age of Men effulg'd, Of Men on whom late time a kindling eye Shall turn, and tyrants tremble while they read. Bring every ſweeteſt flower, and let me ſtrow The grave where RUSSEL lies; whoſe temper'd blood With calmeſt chearfulneſs for thee reſign'd, Stain'd the ſad annals of a giddy reign; Aiming at lawleſs power, tho' meanly ſunk In looſe inglorious luxury. With him His friend, the ALCERMON SIDNEY. BRITISH CASSIUS, fearleſs bled; Of high determin'd ſpirit, roughly brave, By antient learning to th' enlighten'd love Of antient freedom warm'd. Fair thy renown In awful Sages and in noble Bards; Soon as the light of dawning ſcience ſpread Her orient ray, and wak'd the Muſes' ſong. Thine is a BACON; hapleſs in his choice, Unfit to ſtand the civil ſtorm of ſtate, And thro' the ſmooth barbarity of courts. With firm but pliant virtue, forward ſtill To urge his courſe. Him for the ſtudious ſhade Kind Nature form'd, deep, comprehenſive, clear, Exact, and elegant; in one rich ſoul, PLATO, the STAGYRITE, and TULLY join'd. The great deliverer he! who from the gloom Of cloyſter'd monks, and jargon-teaching ſchools, Led forth the true Philoſophy, there long Held in the magic chain of words and forms, And definitions void: he led her forth, Daughter of HEAVEN! that, ſlow-aſcending ſtill, Inveſtigating ſure the chain of things, With radiant finger points to HEAVEN again. The generous ANTHONY ASHLEY COOPER, Earl of Shafteſbury. ASHLEY thine, the friend of Man; Who ſcann'd his Nature with a brother's eye, His weakneſs prompt to ſhade, to raiſe his aim, To touch the finer movements of the mind, And with the moral beauty charm the heart. Why need I name thy BOYLE, whoſe pious ſearch A mid the dark receſſes of his works, The great CREATOR ſought? And why thy LOCKE, Who made the whole internal world his own? Let NEWTON, pure Intelligence, whom GOD To mortals lent, to trace his boundleſs works From laws ſublimely ſimple, ſpeak thy fame In all philoſophy. For lofty ſenſe, Creative fancy, and inſpection keen Thro' the deep windings of the human heart, Is not wild SHAKESPEAR thine and Nature's boaſt? Is not each great, each amiable Muſe Of claſſic ages in thy MILTON met? A genius univerſal as his Theme, Aſtoniſhing as Chaos, as the bloom Of blowing Eden fair, as Heaven ſublime. Nor ſhall my verſe that elder bard forget, The gentle SPENSER, Fancy's pleaſing ſon; Who, like a copious river, pour'd his ſong O'er all the mazes of enchanted ground: Nor thee, his antient maſter, laughing ſage, CHAUCER, whoſe native manners-painting verſe, Well-moraliz'd, ſhines thro' the Gothic cloud Of time and language o'er thy genius thrown. MAY my ſong ſoften, as thy DAUGHTERS I, BRITANNIA, hail! for beauty is their own, The feeling heart, ſimplicity of life, And elegance, and taſte: the faultleſs form, Shap'd by the hand of harmony; the cheek, Where the live crimſon, through the native white Soft-ſhooting o'er the face diffuſes bloom, And every nameleſs grace; the parted lip, Like the red roſe bud moiſt with morning-dew, Breathing delight; and, under flowing jet, Or ſunny ringlets, or of circling brown, The neck ſlight-ſhaded, and the ſwelling breaſt; The look reſiſtleſs, piercing to the ſoul, And by the ſoul inform'd, when dreſt in love She ſits high-ſmiling in the conſcious eye. ISLAND of bliſs! amid the ſubject ſeas, That thunder round thy rocky coaſts, ſet up, At once the wonder, terror, and delight, Of diſtant nations; whoſe remoteſt ſhores Can ſoon be ſhaken by thy naval arm, Not to be ſhook thy ſelf, but all aſſaults Baffling, as like thy hoar cliffs the loud ſea-wave. O THOU! by whoſe almighty Nod the ſcale Of empire riſes, or alternate falls, Send forth the ſaving VIRTUES round the land, In bright patrol: white Peace, and ſocial Love; The tender-looking Charity, intent On gentle deeds, and ſhedding tears thro' ſmiles; Undaunted Truth, and Dignity of mind; Courage compos'd, and keen; ſound Temperance Healthful in heart and look; clear Chaſtity, With bluſhes reddening as ſhe moves along, Diſorder'd at the deep regard ſhe draws; Rough Induſtry; Activity untir'd, With copious life inform'd, and all awake: While, in the radiant front, ſuperior ſhines That firſt paternal virtue, Public Zeal, Who throws o'er all an equal wide ſurvey, And, ever muſing on the common weal, Still labours glorious with ſome great deſign. LOW walks the ſun, and broadens by degrees, Juſt o'er the verge of day. The ſhifting clouds Aſſembled gay, a richly-gorgeous train, In all their pomp attend his ſetting throne. Air, earth, and ocean ſmile immenſe. And now, As if his weary chariot ſought the bowers Of Amphitritè, and her tending nymphs, (So Grecian fable ſung) he dips his orb; Now half-immers'd; and now a golden curve Gives one bright glance, then total diſappears. FOR ever running an enchanted round, Paſſes the day, deceitful, vain, and void; As fleets the viſion o'er the formful brain, This moment hurrying wild th' impaſſion'd ſoul, The next in nothing loſt. 'Tis ſo to him, The dreamer of this earth, an idle blank: A ſight of horror to the cruel wretch, Who all day long in ſordid pleaſure roll'd, Himſelf an uſeleſs load, has ſquander'd vile, Upon his ſcoundrel train, what might have cheer'd A drooping family of modeſt worth. But to the generous ſtill-improving mind, That gives the hopeleſs heart to ſing for joy, Diffuſing kind beneficence around, Boaſtleſs, as now deſcends the ſilent dew; To him the long review of order'd life Is inward rapture, only to be felt. CONFESS'd from yonder ſlow-extinguiſh'd clouds, All ether ſoftening, ſober Evening takes Her wonted ſtation in the middle air; A thouſand Shadows at her beck. Firſt this She ſends on earth; then that of deeper dye Steals ſoft behind; and then a deeper ſtill, In circle following circle, gathers round, To cloſe the face of things. A freſher gale Begins to wave the wood, and ſtir the ſtream, Sweeping with ſhadowy guſt the fields of corn; While the quail clamours for his running mate. Wide o'er the thiſtly lawn, as ſwells the breeze, A whitening ſhower of vegetable down Amuſive floats. The kind impartial care Of Nature nought diſdains: thoughtful to ſeed Her loweſt ſons, and clothe the coming year, From field to field the feather'd ſeeds ſhe wings. HIS folded flock ſecure, the ſhepherd home Hies, merry-hearted; and by turns relieves The ruddy milk-maid of her brimming pail; The beauty whom perhaps his witleſs heart, Unknowing what the joy-mix'd anguiſh means, Sincerely loves, by that beſt language ſhewn Of cordial glances, and obliging deeds. Onward they paſs, o'er many a panting height, And valley ſunk, and unfrequented; where At fall of eve the fairy people throng, In various game, and revelry to paſs The ſummer-night, as village-ſtories tell. But far about they wander from the grave Of him, whom his ungentle fortune urg'd Againſt his own ſad breaſt to lift the hand Of impious violence. The lonely tower I • alſo ſhunn'd; whoſe mournful chambers hold, So night-ſtruck fancy dreams, the yelling ghoſt. AMONG the crooked lanes on every hedge, The glow-worm lights his gem; and, thro' the dark, A moving radiance twinkles. Evening yields The world to Night; not in her winter-robe Of maſſy ſtygian woof, but looſe array'd In mantle dun. A faint erroneous ray, Glanc'd from th'imperfect ſurfaces of things, Flings half an image on the ſtraining eye; While wavering woods, and villages, and ſtreams, And rocks, and mountain-tops, that long retain'd Th' aſcending gleam, are all one ſwimming ſcene, Uncertain if beheld. Sudden to heaven Thence weary viſion turns; where, leading ſoft The ſilent hours of love, with pureſt ray Sweet Venus ſhines; and from her genial riſe, When day-light ſickens till it ſprings afreſh, Unrival'd reigns, the faireſt lamp of night, As thus th' effulgence tremulous I drink, With cheriſh'd gaze, the lambent lightnings ſhoot Acroſs the ſky; or horizontal dart, In wondrous ſhapes: by fearful murmuring crowds Portentous deem'd. Amid the radiant orbs, That more than deck, that animate the ſky, The life-infuſing ſuns of other worlds; Lo! from the dread immenſity of ſpace Returning, with accelerated courſe, The ruſhing comet to the ſun deſcends; And as he ſinks below the ſhading earth, With awful train projected o'er the heavens, The guilty nations tremble. But, above Thoſe ſuperſtitious horrors that enſlave The fond ſequacious herd, to myſtic faith And blind amazement prone, th' enlighten'd few, Whoſe godlike minds philoſophy exalts, The glorious ſtranger hail. They feel a joy Divinely great; they in their powers exult, That wondrous force of thought, which mounting ſpurns This duſky ſpot, and meaſures all the ſky; While, from his far excurſion thro' the wilds Of barren aether, faithful to his time, They ſee the blazing wonder riſe anew, In ſeeming terror clad, but kindly bent To work the will of all-ſuſtaining LOVE: From his huge vapoury train perhaps to ſhake Reviving moiſture on the numerous orbs, Thro' which his long ellipſis winds; perhaps To lend new fuel to declining ſuns, To light up worlds, and feed th' eternal fire. WITH thee, ſerene PHILOSOPHY! with thee, And thy bright garland, let me crown my ſong! Effuſive ſource of evidence, and truth! A luſtre ſhedding o'er th' ennobled mind. Stronger than ſummer-noon; and pure as that, Whoſe mild vibrations ſoothe the parted ſoul, New to the dawning of celeſtial day. Hence thro' her nouriſh'd powers, enlarg'd by thee; She ſprings aloft, with elevated pride, Above the tangling maſs of low deſires, That bind the fluttering crowd; and, angel-wing'd, The heights of ſcience and of virtue gains, Where all is calm and clear; with Nature round Or in the ſtarry regions, or th' abyſs, To reaſon's and to fancy's eye diſplay'd: The Firſt up-tracing, from the dreary void, The chain of cauſes and effects to HIM, The world-producing ESSENCE, who alone Poſſeſſes being; while the Laſt receives The whole magnificence of heaven and earth, And every beauty, delicate or bold, Obvious or more remote, with livelier ſenſe, Diffuſive painted on the rapid mind. TUTOR'D by thee, hence POETRY exalts Her voice to ages; and informs the page With muſic, image, ſentiment, and thought, Never to die! the treaſure of mankind! Their higheſt honour, and their trueſt joy! WITHOUT thee what were unenlighten'd Man? A ſavage roaming thro' the woods and wilds, In queſt of prey; and with th' unfaſhion'd furr Rough-clad; devoid of every finer art, And elegance of life. Nor happineſs Domeſtic, mix'd of tenderneſs and care, Nor moral excellence, nor ſocial bliſs, Nor guardian law were his; nor various ſkill To turn the furrow, or to guide the tool Mechanic; nor the heaven-conducted prow Of navigation bold, that fearleſs braves The burning line, or dares the wint'ry pole; Mother ſevere of infinite delights! Nothing, ſave rapine, indolence, and guile, And woes on woes, a ſtill-revolving train! Whoſe horrid circle had made human life Than non-exiſtence worſe: but, taught by thee, Ours are the plans of policy, and peace; To live like brothers, and conjunctive all Embelliſh life. While thus laborious crowds Ply the tough oar, PHILOSOPHY directs The ruling helm; or like the liberal breath Of potent Heaven, inviſible, the ſail Swells out, and bears th' inferior world along. NOR to this evaneſcent ſpeck of earth Poorly confin'd, the radiant tracts on high Are her exalted range; intent to gaze Creation thro'; and, from that full complex Of never-ending wonders, to conceive Of the SOLE BEING right, who ſpoke the Word, And Nature mov'd compleat. With inward view, Thence on th' ideal kingdom ſwift ſhe turns Her eye; and inſtant, at her powerful glance, Th' obedient phantoms vaniſh or appear; Compound, divide, and into order ſhift, Each to his rank, from plain perception up To the fair forms of Fancy's fleeting train: This line not in the ſecond Edition. To Reaſon then, deducing truth from truth; And notion quite abſtract; where firſt begins The world of ſpirits, action all, and life Unfetter'd, and unmix'd. But here the cloud, So wills ETERNAL PROVIDENCE, ſits deep. Enough for us to know that this dark ſtate, In wayward paſſions loſt, and vain purſuits, This infancy of being, cannot prove The final iſſue of the works of GOD, By boundleſs LOVE and perfect WISDOM form'd, And ever riſing with the riſing mind.

AUTUMN

AUTUMN. The ARGUMENT.

The ſubject propoſed. Addreſſed to Mr ONSLOW. A proſpect of the fields ready for harveſt. Reflections in praiſe of induſtry rais'd by that view. Reaping. A tale relative to it. A harveſt-ſtorm. Shooting and hunting, their barbarity. A ludicrous account of fox-hunting. A view of an orchard. Wall-fruit. A vineyard. A deſcription of fogs, frequent in the latter part of Autumn: whence a digreſſion, enquiring into the riſe of fountains and rivers. Birds of ſeaſon conſidered, that now ſhift their habitation. The prodigious number of them that cover the northern and weſtern iſles of SCOTLAND. Hence a view of the country. A proſpect of the diſcoloured, fading woods. After a gentle duſky day, moon-light. Autumnal meteors. Morning: to which ſucceeds a calm, pure, ſun-ſhiny day, ſuch as uſually ſhuts up the ſeaſon. The harveſt being gathered in, the country diſſolved in joy. The whole concludes with a panegyric on a philoſophical country life.

AUTUMN. CROWN'D with the ſickle and the wheaten ſheaf, While AUTUMN, nodding o'er the yellow plain, Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more, Well pleas'd, I tune. Whate'er the Wint'ry froſt Nitrous prepar'd; the various-bloſſom'd Spring Put in white promiſe forth; and Summer-ſuns Concocted ſtrong, ruſh boundleſs now to view, Full, perfect all, and ſwell my glorious theme. ONSLOW! the Muſe, ambitious of thy name, To grace, inſpire, and dignify her ſong, Would from the Public Voice thy gentle ear A-while engage. Thy noble cares ſhe knows, The patriot virtues that diſtend thy thought, Spread on thy front, and in thy boſom glow; While liſtening ſenates hang upon thy tongue, Devolving thro' the maze of eloquence A roll of periods, ſweeter than her ſong. But ſhe too pants for public virtue; ſhe, Tho' weak i • of power, yet ſtrong in ardent will, Whene'er her country ruſhes on her heart, Aſſumes a bolder note, and fondly tries To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame. WHEN the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days, And Libra weighs in equal ſcales the year; From heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence ſhook Of parting ſummer, a ſerener blue, With golden light enliven'd, wide inveſts The happy world. Attemper'd ſuns ariſe, Sweet-beam'd, and ſhedding oft thro' lucid clouds A pleaſing calm; while broad, and brown, below, Extenſive harveſts hang the heavy head. Rich, ſilent, deep, they ſtand; for not a gale Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain; A calm of plenty! till the ruffled air Falls from its poiſe, and gives the breeze to blow. Rent is the fleecy mantle of the ſky; The clouds fly different; and the ſudden ſun By fits effulgent gilds th' illumin'd field, And black by fits the ſhadows ſweep along▪ A gayly-checker'd heart-expanding view, Far as the circling eye can ſhoot around, Unbounded toſſing in a flood of corn. THESE are thy bleſſings, INDUSTRY! rough power! Whom labour ſtill attends, and ſweat, and pain; Yet the kind ſource of every gentle art, And all the ſoft civility of life; Raiſer of human kind! by Nature caſt, Naked, and helpleſs, out amid the woods, And wilds, to rude inclement elements; With various ſeeds of art deep in the mind Implanted, and profuſely pour'd around Materials infinite; but idle all. Still unexerted, in th' unconſcious breaſt, Slept the lethargic powers; corruption ſtill, Voracious, ſwallow'd what the liberal hand Of bounty ſcatter'd o'er the ſavage year: And ſtill the ſad barbarian, roving, mix'd With beaſts of prey; or for his acorn-meal Fought the fierce tuſky boar; a ſhivering wretch! Aghaſt, and comfortleſs, when the bleak north, With Winter charg'd, let the mix'd tempeſt fly, Hail, rain, and ſnow, and bitter-breathing froſt: Then to the ſhelter of the hut he fled: And the wild ſeaſon, ſordid, pin'd away. For home he had not; home is the reſort Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where, Supporting and ſupported, poliſh'd friends, And dear relations mingle into bliſs. But this the rugged ſavage never felt, Even deſolate in crowds; and thus his days, Roll'd heavy, dark, and unenjoy'd along; A waſte of time! till INDUSTRY approach'd, And rous'd him from his miſerable ſloth: His faculties unfolded; pointed out, Where laviſh Nature the directing hand Of art demanded; ſhew'd him how to raiſe His feeble force by the mechanic powers, To dig the mineral from the vaulted earth, On what to turn the piercing rage of fire, On what the torrent, and the gather'd blaſt; Gave the tall antient foreſt to his axe; Taught him to chip the wood, and hew the ſtone, Till by degrees the finiſh'd fabric roſe; Tore from his limbs the blood-polluted furr, And wrapt them in the woolly veſtment warm, Or bright in gloſſy ſilk, and flowing lawn; With wholeſome viands fill'd his table, pour'd The generous glaſs around, inſpir'd to wake The life-refining ſoul of decent wit: Nor ſtoop'd at barren bare neceſſity, But ſtill advancing bolder, led him on, To pomp, to pleaſure, elegance, and grace; And, breathing high ambition thro' his ſoul, Set ſcience, wiſdom, glory, in his view, And bade him be the Lord of all below. THEN gathering men their natural powers combin'd And form'd a Public; to the general good Submitting, aiming, and conducting all. For this the Patriot-Council met, the full, The free, and fairly repreſented Whole; For this they plann'd the holy guardian laws, Diſtinguiſh'd orders, animated arts, And with joint force Oppreſſion chaining, ſet Imperial Juſtice at the helm; yet ſtill To them accountable: nor ſlaviſh dream'd That toiling millions muſt reſign their weal, And all the honey of their ſearch, to ſuch As for themſelves alone themſelves have rais'd. HENCE every form of cultivated life In order ſet, protected, and inſpir'd, Into perfection wrought. Uniting all, Society grew numerous, high, polite, And happy. Nurſe of art! the city rear'd In beauteous pride her tower-encircled head; And, ſtretching ſtreet on ſtreet, by thouſands drew, From twining woody haunts, or the tough yew To bows ſtrong-ſtraining, her aſpiring ſons. THEN COMMERCE brought into the public walk The buſy merchant; the big ware-houſe built; Rais'd the ſtrong crane; choak'd up the loaded Street With foreign plenty; and thy ſtream, O THAMES, 121 Large, gentle, deep, majeſtic, king of floods! This line not in the laſt Edition. Than whom no river heaves a fuller tide, Choſe for his grand reſort. On either hand, Like a long wint'ry foreſt, groves of maſts Shot up their ſpires; the bellying ſheet between Poſſeſs'd the breezy void; the ſooty hulk Steer'd ſluggiſh on; the ſplendid barge along Row'd, regular, to harmony; around, The boat, light-ſkimming, ſtretch'd its oary wings; While deep the various voice of fervent toil From bank to bank increas'd; whence ribb'd with oak, To bear the BRITISH THUNDER, black, and bold, The roaring veſſel ruſh'd into the main. THEN, too, the pillar'd dome, magnific, heav'd Its ample roof; and luxury within Pour'd out her glittering ſtores: the canvas ſmooth, With glowing life protuberant, to the view Embodied roſe; the ſtatue ſeem'd to breathe, And ſoften into fleſh, beneath the touch Of forming art, imagination-fluſh'd, ALL is the gift of INDUSTRY; whate'er Exalts, embelliſhes, and renders life Delightful. Penſive Winter cheer'd by him Sits at the ſocial fire, and happy hears Th' excluded tempeſt idly rave along; His harden'd fingers deck the gaudy Spring; Without him Summer were an arid waſte; Nor to th' autumnal months could thus tranſmit Thoſe full, mature, immeaſurable ſtores, That, waving round, recall my wandering ſong. SOON as the morning trembles o'er the ſky, And, unperceiv'd, unfolds the ſpreading day; Before the ripen'd field the reapers ſtand, In fair array; each by the laſs he loves, To bear the rougher part, and mitigate By nameleſs gentle offices her toil. At once they ſtoop and ſwell the luſty ſheaves; While thro' their chearful band the rural talk. The rural ſcandal and the rural jeſt Fly harmleſs, to deceive the tedious time, And ſteal unfelt the ſultry hours away. Behind the maſter walks, builds up the ſhocks; And conſcious, glancing oft on every ſide His ſated eye, feels his heart heave with joy. The gleaners ſpread around, and here and there, Spike after ſpike, their ſcanty ſparing harveſt pick. Be not too narrow, huſbandmen! but fling From the full ſheaf, with charitable ſtealth, The liberal handful. Think, oh grateful think! How good the GOD of HARVEST is to you; Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields; While theſe unhappy partners of your kind Wide-hover round you, like the fowls of heaven, And aſk their humble dole. The various turns Of fortune ponder; that your ſons may want What now, with hard reluctance, faint, ye give. THE lovely young LAVINIA once had friends; And Fortune ſmil'd, deceitful, on her birth. For, in her helpleſs years depriv'd of all, Of every ſtay, ſave Innocence and HEAVEN, She with her widow'd mother, feeble, old, And poor, liv'd in a cottage, far retir'd Among the windings of a woody vale; By ſolitude and deep ſurrounding ſhades, But more by baſhful modeſty, conceal'd. Together thus they ſhunn'd the cruel ſcorn Which virtue, ſunk to poverty, would meet From giddy paſſion faſhion and low-minded pride: Almoſt on Nature's common bounty fed, Like the gay birds that ſung them to repoſe, Content, and careleſs of to-morrow's fare. Her form was freſher than the morning roſe, When the dew wets its leaves; unſtain'd, and pure, As is the lily, or the mountain ſnow, The modeſt virtues mingled in her eyes, Still on the ground dejected, darting all Their humid beams into the blooming flowers: Or when the mournful tale her mother told, Of what her faithleſs fortune promis'd once, Thrill'd in her thought, they, like the dewy ſtar Of evening, ſhone in tears. A native grace Sate fair-proportion'd on her poliſh'd limbs, Veil'd in a ſimple robe, their beſt attire, Beyond the pomp of dreſs; for lovelineſs Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, But is when unadorn'd adorn'd the moſt. Thoughtleſs of beauty, ſhe was beauty's ſelf, Recluſe amid the cloſe-embowering woods. As in the hollow breaſt of Appenine, Beneath the ſhelter of incircling hills, A myrtle riſes, far from human eye, And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild; So flouriſh'd blooming, and unſeen by all, The ſweet LAVINIA: till, at length, compell'd By ſtrong neceſſity's ſupreme command, With ſmiling patience in her looks, ſhe went To glean PALEMON's fields. The pride of ſwains PALEMON was, the generous, and the rich; Who led the rural life in all its joy, And elegance, ſuch as Arcadian ſong Tranſmits from antient uncorrupted times; When tyrant cuſtom had not ſhackled Man, But free to follow Nature was the mode. He then, his fancy with autumnal ſcenes Amuſing, chanc'd beſide his reaper-train To walk, when poor LAVINIA drew his eye; Unconſcious of her pow • r, and turning quick With unaffected bluſhes from his gaze: He ſaw her charming, but he ſaw not half The charms her down-caſt modeſty conceal'd. That very moment love and chaſte deſire Sprung in his boſom, to himſelf unknown; For ſtill the world prevail'd, and its dread laugh, Which ſcarce the firm philoſopher can ſcorn, Should his heart own a gleaner in the field: And thus in ſecret to his ſoul he ſigh'd. "WHAT pity! that ſo delicate a form, "By beauty kindled, where enlivening ſenſe, "And more than vulgar goodneſs ſeem to dwell, "Shou •• be devoted to the rude embrace "Of ſome indecent clown? She looks, methinks, "Of old ACASTO's line; and to my mind "Recalls that patron of my happy life, "From whom my liberal fortune took its riſe; "Now to the duſt gone down; his houſes, lands, "And once fair-ſpreading family, diſſolv'd. "'Tis ſaid that in ſome lone obſcure retreat, "Urg'd by remembrance ſad, and decent pride, "Far from thoſe ſcenes which knew their better days, "His aged widow and his daughter live, "Whom yet my fruitleſs ſearch could never find, "Romantic wiſh! would this the daughter were!" WHEN, ſtrict enquiring, from herſelf he found She was the ſame, the daughter of his friend, Of bountiful ACASTO; who can ſpeak The mingled paſſions that ſurpriz'd his heart, And thro' his nerves in ſhivering tranſport ran? Then blaz'd his ſmother'd flame, avow'd, and bold; And as he view'd her, ardent, o'er and o'er, Love, gratitude, and pity wept at once. Confus'd, and frighten'd at his ſudden tears, Her riſing beauties fluſh'd a higher bloom, As thus PALEMON, paſſionate, and juſt, Pour'd out the pious rapture of his ſoul. "And art thou then ACASTO's dear remains? "She, whom my reſtleſs gratitude has ſought, "So long in vain? Oh heav'ns yes! the very ſame, "The ſoften'd image of my noble friend, ""Alive his every look, his every feature, Alive, his every feature, every look, "More elegantly touch'd. Sweeter than Spring! "Thou ſole ſurviving bloſſom from the root "That nouriſh'd up my fortune! Say, ah where, "In what ſequeſter'd deſart, haſt thou drawn "The kindeſt aſpect of delighted HEAVEN? "Into ſuch beauty ſpread, and blown ſo fair; "Tho' poverty's cold wind, and cruſhing rain, "Beat keen, and heavy, on thy tender years? "O let me now, into a richer ſoil, "Tranſplant thee ſafe! where vernal ſuns, and ſhowers, "Diffuſe their warmeſt, larg ••• influence; "And of my garden be the pride, and joy! "It ill befits thee, oh it ill befits "ACASTO's daughter, his, whoſe open ſtores, "Tho' vaſt, were little to his ampler heart, "The father of a country, thus to pick "The very refuſe of thoſe harveſt-fields, "Which from his bounteous friendſhip I enjoy: "Then throw that ſhameful pittance from thy hand, "But ill-apply'd to ſuch a rugged taſk; "The fields, the maſter, all, my fair, are thine; "If to the various bleſſings which thy houſe "Has on me laviſh'd, thou wilt add that bliſs, Has laviſh'd on me, thou wilt add that bliſs, "That deareſt bliſs, the power of bleſſing thee!" HERE ceas'd the youth: yet ſtill his ſpeaking eye Expreſs'd the ſacred triumph of his ſoul, With conſcious virtue, gratitude, and love, Above the vulgar joy divinely rais'd. Nor waited he reply. Won by the charm▪ Of goodneſs irreſiſtible, and all In ſweet diſorder loſt, ſhe bluſh'd conſent. The news immediate to her mother brought, While, pierc'd with anxious thought, ſhe pin'd away The lonely moments for LAVINIA's fate; Amaz'd, and ſcarce believing what ſhe heard, Joy ſeiz'd her wither'd veins, and one bright gleam Of ſetting life ſhone on her evening hours: Not leſs enraptur'd than the happy pair; Who flouriſh'd long in tender bliſs, and rear'd A numerous offspring, lovely like themſelves, And good, the grace of all the country round. DEFEATING oft the labours of the year, The ſultry ſouth collects a potent blaſt. At firſt, the groves are ſcarcely ſeen to ſtir Their trembling tops; and a ſtill murmur runs Along the ſoft-inclining fields of corn: But as th' aërial tempeſt fuller ſwells, And in one mighty ſtream, inviſible, Immenſe, the whole excited atmoſphere, Impetuous ruſhes o'er the ſounding world; Strain'd to the root, the ſtooping foreſt pours▪ A ruſtling ſhower of yet untimely leaves. High beat, the circling mountains eddy in, From the bare wild, the diſſipated ſtorm, And ſend it in a torrent down the vale. Expos'd, and naked, to its utmoſt rage, Thro' all the ſea of harveſt rolling round, The billowy plain floats wide; nor can evade, Tho' pliant to the blaſt, its ſeizing force; Or whirl'd in air, or into vacant chaff Shook waſte. And ſometimes too a burſt of rain, Swept from the black horiſon, broad, deſcends In one continuous flood. Still over head The mingling tempeſt weaves its gloom, and ſtill The deluge deepens; till the fields around Lie ſunk, and flatted, in the ſordid wave. Sudden, the ditches ſwell; the meadows ſwim. Red, from the hills, innumerable ſtreams Tumultuous roar; and high above its banks The river lift; before whoſe ruſhing tide, Herds, flocks, and harveſts, cottages and ſwains, Roll mingled down; all that the winds had ſpar'd, In one wild moment ruin'd; the big hopes, And well-earn'd treaſures of the painful year. Fled to ſome eminence, the huſbandman, Helpleſs beholds the miſerable wreck Driving along; his drowning ox at once Deſcending, with his labours ſcatter'd round, He ſees; and inſtant o'er his ſhivering thought Comes Winter unprovided, and a train Of clamant children dear. Ye maſters, then, Be mindful of the rough laborious hand, That ſinks you ſoft in elegance and eaſe; Be mindful of thoſe limbs, in ruſſet clad, Whoſe toil to yours is warmth, and graceful pride; And o • be mindful of that ſparing board, Which cover • yours with luxury profuſe, Makes your glaſs ſparkle, and your ſenſe rejoice! Nor cruelly demand what the deep rains, And all-involving winds have ſwept away. HERE the rude clamour of the ſportſman's joy, The gun faſt-thundering, and the winded horn, Would tempt the Muſe to ſing the rural Game: How, in his mid-career, the ſpaniel ſtruck, Stiff, by the tainted gale, with open noſe, Out-ſtretch'd, and finely ſenſible, draws full, Fearful, and cautious, on the latent prey; As in the ſun the circling covey baſk Their varied plumes, and watchful every way, Through the rough ſtubble turn the ſecret eye. Caught in the meſhy ſnare, in vain they beat Their idle wings, intangled more and more: Nor on the ſurges of the boundleſs air, Tho' borne triumphant, are they ſafe; the gun, Glanc'd juſt, and ſudden, from the fowler's eye, O'ertakes their ſounding pinions; and again, Immediate, brings them from the towering wing, Dead to the ground; or drives them wide-diſpers'd, Wounded, and wheeling various, down the wind. THESE are not ſubjects for the peaceful Muſe, Nor will ſhe ſtain with ſuch her ſpotleſs ſong; Then moſt delighted, when ſhe ſocial ſees The whole mix'd animal-creation round Alive, and happy. 'Tis no joy to her, This falſely-chearful barbarous game of death; This rage of pleaſure, which the reſtleſs youth Awakes, impatient, with the gleaming morn; When beaſts of prey retire, that all night long, Urg'd by neceſſity, had rang'd the dark, As if their conſcious ravage ſhunn'd the light, Aſham'd. Not ſo the ſteady tyrant Man, Who with the thoughtleſs inſolence of power Inflam'd, beyond the moſt infuriate wrath Of the worſt monſter that e'er roam'd the waſte, For ſport alone purſues the cruel chace, Amid the beamings of the gentle days. Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage▪ Ye ravening Tribes, upbraid our wanton rage, For hunger kindles you, and lawleſs want; But laviſh fed, in Nature's bounty roll'd, To joy at anguiſh, and delight in blood, Is what your horrid boſoms never knew. POOR is the triumph o'er the timid hare! Scar'd from the corn, and now to ſome lone ſeat Retir'd: the ruſhy fen; the ragged furze, Stretch'd o'er the ſtony heath: the ſtubble chapt; The thiſtly lawn; the thick intangled broom; Of the ſame friendly hue, the wither'd fern: The fallow ground laid open to the ſun, Concoctive; and the nodding ſandy bank, Hung o'er the mazes of the mountain brook. Vain is her beſt precaution; tho' ſhe ſits Conceal'd, with folded ears; unſleeping eyes, By Nature rais'd to take th' horizon in; And head couch'd cloſe betwixt her hairy feet, In act to ſpring away. The ſcented dew Betrays her early labyrinth; and deep, In ſcatter'd ſullen openings, far behind, With every breeze ſhe hears the coming ſtorm. But nearer, and more frequent, as it loads The ſighing gale, ſhe ſprings amaz'd, and all The ſavage ſoul of game is up at once: The pack full-opening, various; the ſhrill horn, Reſounded from the hills; the neighing ſteed, Wild for the chace; and the loud hunter's ſhout; O'er a weak, harmleſs, flying creature, all Mix'd in mad tumult, and diſcordant joy. THE Stag too, ſingled from the herd, where long He rang'd the branching monarch of the ſhades, Before the tempeſt drives. At firſt, in ſpeed He ſprightly, puts his faith; and, rous'd by fear, fear-arous'd, Gives all his ſwift aërial ſoul to flight. Againſt the breeze he darts, that way the more To leave the leſſening murderous cry behind: Deception ſhort! tho' fleete • than the winds Blown o'er the keen-air'd mountain by the north, He burſts the thickets, glances thro' the glades, And plunges deep into the wildeſt wood; If ſlow, yet ſure, adheſive to the track Hot-ſteaming, up behind him come comes again Th' inhuman rout, and from the ſhady depth Expel him, circling thro' his every ſhift. He ſweeps the forreſt oft; and ſobbing ſees The glades mild opening to the golden day; Where, in kind conteſt, with his butting friends He wont to ſtruggle, or his loves enjoy. Oft in the full-deſcending flood he tries To loſe the ſcent, and lave his burning ſides; Oft ſeeks the herd; the watchful herd alarm'd, With ſelfiſh care avoid a brother's woe. What ſhall he do? His once ſo vivid nerves, So full of buoyant ſpirit, now no more Inſpire the courſe; but fainting breathleſs toil, Sick, ſeizes on his heart: he ſtands at bay; And puts his laſt weak refuge in deſpair. The big round tears run down his dappled face; He groans in anguiſh; while the growling pack, Blood-happy, hang at his fair jutting cheſt, And mark his beauteous chequer'd ſides with gore. OF this enough. But if the ſylvan youth Whoſe fervent blood boils into violence, Muſt have the chace; behold, deſpiſing flight, The rous'd-up lion, reſolute and ſlow, Advancing full on the protended ſpear, And coward-band, that circling wheel aloof. Slunk from the cavern, and the troubled wood, See the grim wolf; on him his ſhaggy foe Vindictive fix, and let the ruffian die: Or, growling horrid, as the brindled boar Grins fell deſtruction, to the monſter's heart Let the dart lighten from the nervous arm. THESE BRITAIN knows not; give, ye BRITONS, then, Your ſportive fury, pityleſs, to pour Looſe on the nightly robber of the fold: Him, from his craggy-winding haunts unearth'd, Let all the thunder of the chace purſue. Throw the broad ditch behind you; o'er the hedge High-bound, reſiſtleſs; nor the deep moraſs Refuſe, but thro' the ſhaking wilderneſs Pick your nice way; into the perilous flood Bear fearleſs, of the raging inſtinct full; And as you ride the torrent, to the banks Your triumph ſound ſonorous, running round, From rock to rock, in circling ecchoes toſt; Then ſcale the mountains to their woody tops; Ruſh down the dangerous ſteep; and o'er the lawn, In fancy ſwallowing up the ſpace between, Pour all your ſpeed into the rapid game, For happy he! who tops the wheeling chace; Has every maze evolv'd, and every guile Diſclos'd; who knows the merits of the pack; Who ſaw the villain ſeiz'd, and dying hard, Without complaint, tho' by an hundred mouths Relentleſs torn: O glorious he, beyond His daring peers! when the retreating horn Calls them to ghoſtly halls of grey renown, With woodland honours grac'd; the fox's fur, Depending decent from the roof; and ſpread Round the drear walls, with antic figures fierce, The ſtag's large front: he then is loudeſt heard, When the night ſtaggers with ſeverer toils, With feats Theſſalian Centaurs never knew, And their repeated wonders ſhake the dome. BUT firſt the fuel'd chimney blazes wide; The tankards foam; and the ſtrong table groans Beneath the ſmoaking ſirloin, ſtretch'd immenſe From ſide to ſide; in which, with deſperate knife, They deep inciſion make, and talk the while Of ENGLAND's glory, ne'er to be defac'd, While hence they borrow vigour: or amain Into the paſty plung'd, at intervals, If ſtomach keen can intervals allow, Relating all the glories of the chace. Then ſated Hunger bids his brother Thirſt Produce the mighty bowl; the mighty bowl, Swell'd high with fiery juice, ſteams liberal round. A potent gale, delicious as the breath Of Maia, to the love-ſick ſhepherdeſs, On violets diffus'd, while ſoft ſhe hears Her panting ſhepherd ſtealing to her arms. Nor wanting is the brown October, drawn Mature and perfect, from his dark retreat Of thirty years; and now his honeſt front Flames in the light refulgent, not afraid Even with the vineyard's beſt produce to vie. To cheat the thirſty moments, whiſt a while Walks his dull round, beneath a cloud of ſmoak, Wreath'd fragrant from the pipe; or the quick dice, In thunder leaping from the box, awake The ſounding gammon: while romp-loving Miſs Is haul'd about in gallantry robuſt. AT laſt theſe puling idleneſſes laid Aſide, frequent and full, the dry divan Cloſe in firm circle; and ſet, ardent, in For ſerious drinking. Nor evaſion ſly, Nor ſober ſhift is to the puking wretch Indulg'd apart; but earneſt, briming Bowls Lave every ſoul, the table floating round, And pavement faithleſs to the fuddled foot. Thus as they ſwim in mutual ſwill, the talk, Vociferous at once from twenty tongues, Reels faſt from theme to theme; from horſes, hounds, To church or miſtreſs, politicks or ghoſt, In endleſs mazes, intricate, perplex'd. Mean-time, with ſudden interruption, loud, Th' impatient catch burſts from the joyous heart: That moment touch'd is every kindred ſoul; And, opening in a full-mouth'd cry of joy, The laugh, the ſlap, the jocund curſe goes round; While from their ſlumbers ſhook, the kennel'd hounds Mix in the muſic of the day again. As when the tempeſt, that has vex'd the deep The dark night long with fainter murmurs falls: So gradual ſinks their mirth. Their feeble tongues, Unable to take up the cumbrous word, Lie quite diſſolv'd. Before their maudlin eyes, Seen dim, and blue, the double tapers dance, Like the ſun wading thro' the miſty ſky. Then, ſliding ſoft, they drop. Confus'd above, Glaſſes and bottles, pipes and gazetteers, As if the table even itſelf was drunk, Lie a wet, broken ſcene; and wide, below, Is heap'd the ſocial ſlaughter: where aſtride The lubber Power in filthy triumph ſits, Slumbrous, inclining ſtill from ſide to ſide, And ſteeps them drench'd in potent ſleep till morn. Perhaps ſome doctor of tremendous paunch, Awful and deep, a black abyſs of drink, Out-lives them all; and from his bury'd flock Retiring full of rumination ſad. Laments the weakneſs of theſe latter times. But if the rougher ſex by this fierce ſport Is hurried wild, let not ſuch horrid joy E'er ſtain the boſom of the BRITISH FAIR. Far be the ſpirit of the chace from them! Uncomely courage, unbeſeeming ſkill; To ſpring the fence, to rein the prancing ſteed; The cap, the whip, the maſculine attire, In which they roughen to the ſenſe, and all The winning ſoftneſs of their ſex is loſt. In them 'tis graceful to diſſolve at woe; With every motion, every word to wave Quick o'er the kindling cheek, the ready bluſh; And from the ſmalleſt violence to ſhrink, Unequal, then the lovelieſt in their fears; And by this ſilent adulation, ſoft, To their protection more engaging Man. O may their eyes no miſerable ſight, Save weeping lovers ſee! a nobler game, Thro' Loves enchanting wiles purſu'd, yet fled, In chace ambiguous. May their tender limbs Float in the looſe ſimplicity of dreſs, And faſhion'd all to harmony, alone Know they to ſeize the captivated ſoul, In rapture warbled from love-breathing lips; To teach the lute to languiſh; with ſmooth ſ • ep, Diſcloſing motion in its every charm, To ſwim along, and ſwell the mazy dance; To train the foliage o'er the ſnowy lawn; To guide the pencil, turn the tuneful page; To lend new flavour to the fruitful year, And heighten'd Nature's dainties; in their race To re • their graces into ſecond life, To give Society its higheſt taſte; Well-ordered home Man's beſt delight to make; And by ſubmiſſive wiſdom, modeſt ſkill, With every gentle care-eluding art, To raiſe the virtues, animate the bliſs, And ſweeten all the toils of human life: This be the female dignity and praiſe▪ Ye ſwains, now haſten to the hazel bank; W • ere down you dale the wildly-winding brook • alls hoarſe from ſteep to ſteep. In cloſe array, Fit for the thickets and the tangling ſhrub, Ye virgins, come. For you their lateſt ſong The woodlands raiſe; the cluſtering nut for you The lover finds amid the ſecret ſhade; And where they burniſh on the topmoſt bough, With active vigour cruſhes down the tree; Or ſhakes them ripe from the reſigning huſk, A gloſſy ſhower, and of an ardent brown, As are the ringlets of MELINDA's hair: MELINDA! form'd with every grace complete, Yet theſe neglecting, above beauty wiſe, And far tranſcending ſuch a vulgar praiſe. Hence from the buſy joy-reſounding fields, In che • rful error, let us tread the maze Of Autumn, unconfin'd; and taſte, rev • v'd, The breath of orchard big with bending fruit. Obedient to the breeze and beating ray, From the deep-loaded bough a mellow ſhower Inceſſant m • lts away. The juicy pear Lies, in a ſoft profuſion, ſcattered round. A va • ious ſweetneſs ſwells the gentle race: • y nature's all-refining hand prepar'd: Of • emper'd ſun and water, earth, and air, In ever-changing compoſition mix'd. Such, falling frequent thro' the chiller night, The fragrant ſtores, the wide-projected heap • Of apples, which the luſty-handed year, Innumerous, o'er the bluſhing orchard ſhakes. A various ſpirit, freſh, delicious, keen, Dwells in their gelid pores; and, active, points▪ The piercing cyder for the thirſty tongue: Thy native theme, and boon inſpirer too, PHILLIPS, Pomona's bard, the ſecond thou Who nobly durſt, in rhyme-unfetter'd verſe, With BRITISH freedom ſing the BRITISH ſong: How, from Silu • ian vats, high-ſparkling wines Foam in tranſparent ſtoods; ſome ſtrong to cheer The wintry revels of the labouring hind: And taſteful ſome to cool the ſummer hours. In this glad ſeaſon, while his ſweeteſt heams The ſun ſhades equal to the meeken'd day; Oh loſe me in the green delightful walks Of DODINGTON, thy ſeat, ſerene, and plain; Where ſimple Nature reigns; and every view, Diffiuſive, ſpreads the pure D • rſetian downs, In boundleſs proſpect; yonder ſhagg'd with wood, Here rich with harveſt, and there wh • te with flocks! Meantime the grandeur of thy lofty dome, Far ſplendid, ſeizes on the raviſh'd eye▪ New beauties riſe with each revolving day; New columns ſwell; and ſtill the freſh Spring •• nds New plants to quicken, and new groves to green▪ Full of thy genius all! the Muſes' ſeat: Where in the ſecret bower, and winding walk, For virtuous YOUNG and thee they twine the bay. Here wandering oft, fir'd with the reſtleſs thirſt Of thy applauſe, I ſolitary court Th' inſpiring breeze: and meditate the book Of Nature ever open; aiming thence Warm from the heart, to learn the moral ſong. Here, as I ſteal along the ſunny wall, Where Autumn baſks, with fruit impurpled deep, My pleaſing theme continual prompts my thought: Preſents the downy peach; the ſhi • ing plumb; The ruddy, fragrant nectarine; and dark, Beneath his ample leaf, the luſcious fig. The vine, too, here her curling tendrils ſhoots; Hangs out her cluſters, glowing to the ſouth; And ſcarcely wiſhes for a warmer ſky. Turn we a moment Fancy's rapid flight To vigorous ſoils, and climes of fair extent; Where by the potent ſun elated high, The vineyard ſwells refulgent on the day; Spreads o'er the vale; or up the mountain climbs, Profuſe and drinks amid the ſunny rocks, From cliff to cliff encreas'd, the heightened blaze. Low bend the weighty boughs. The cluſters clear, Half thro' the foliage ſeen, or ardent flame, Or ſhine tranſparent; while perfection breathes White o'er the turgent film the living d • w. As thus they brighten with exalted juice, Touch'd into flavour by th • mingling ray; The rural youth and virgins o'er the field, Each fond for each to cull th' autumnal prime, Exulting rov • , and ſpeak the v • ntage • igh, Then comes the cruſhing ſwain; the country floats, And foams unbounded with the maſhy flood; That by degrees fermented, and refin'd, Round the rais'd nations pour the cup of joy: The claret ſmooth, red as the lip we preſs In ſparkling fancy, while we drain the bowl; The mellow-taſted Burgundy; and quick, As is the wit it gives, the gay Champaign. Now, by the cool declining year candens'd, Deſcend the copious exhalations, check'd As up the middle ſky unſeen they ſtole, And roll the doubling fogs around the hill. No more the mountain, horrid, vaſt, ſublime, Who pours a ſweep of rivers from his ſides, And high between contending kingdoms rears The rocky long diviſion, fills the view With great variety; but in a night Of gathering vapour, from the baffled ſenſe Sinks dark and dreary. Thence expanding far The huge duſk, gradual ſwallows up the plain: Vaniſh the woods; the dim-ſeen river ſeems, Sullen, and ſlow, to roll the miſty wave. Even in the height of noon oppreſs'd, the ſun Sheds, weak, and blunt, his wide-refracted ray; Whence glearing oft, with many a broaden'd orb, He frights the nations. Indiſtinct on earth, Seen thro' the turbid air, beyond the life Objects appear; and, wilder'd, o'er the waſte The ſhepherd ſtalks gigantic. Till at laſt Wreath'd dun around, in deeper circles ſtill Succeſſive cloſing, ſits the general fog Unbounded o'er the world; and, mingling thick, A formleſs grey confuſion covers all. As when of old (ſo ſung the HEBREW BARD) Light, uncollected, thro' the chaos urg'd Its infant way; nor Order yet had drawn His lovely train from out the dubious gloom. Theſe roving miſts, that conſtant now begin To ſmoak along the hilly country, theſe, With weighty rains, and melted Alpine ſnows, The mountain-ciſterns fill, thoſe ample ſtores Of water, ſcoop'd among the hollow rocks; Whence guſh the ſtreams, the ceaſeleſs fountains play, And their unfailing wealth the rivers draw. Some ſages ſay, that, where the numerous wave For ever laſhes the reſounding ſhore. Drill'd thro' the ſandy ſtratum, every way, The wa • ers with the ſandy ſtratum riſe; Amid whoſe angles infinitely ſtrain'd, They joyful leave their jaggy ſalts behind And clear and ſweeten, as they ſoak along. Nor ſtops the reſtleſs fluid, mounting ſtill, Though oft amidſt th' irrig • ous vale it ſprings; Put to the mountain courted by the ſand, That leads it darkling on in faithful maze, Far from the parent-main, it boils again Freſh in to day; and all the glittering hill Is bright with ſpouting rills. But hence this vain Amuſive dream! why ſhould the waters love To take ſo far a journey to the hills, When the ſweet valleys offers to their toil Inviting quiet, and a nearer bed? Or if, by blind ambition led aſtray, They muſt aſpire; why ſhould they ſudden ſtop Among the broken mountain's ruſhy dells. And, ere they gain its higheſt peak, deſert Th' attractive ſand that charm'd their courſe ſo long? Beſides, the hard agglomerating ſalts, The ſpoil of ages, would impervious choak Their ſecret channels; or by ſlow degrees, High as the hills protrude the ſwelling val • s▪ Old Ocean too, ſuck'd thro' the porous globe, Had long ere now forſook his horrid bed, And brought D • u • a • lion's watery times again. Say than, where lurk the vaſt eternal ſprings That, like CREATING NATURE. He conceal'd From mortal eye, yet with their laviſh ſtores Refreſh the globe, and all its joyous tribes? O thou pervading Genius, given to man, To trace the ſecrets of the dark abyſs, O lay the mountains bare! and wide diſplay Their hidden ſtructure to th' aſtoniſh'd view; Strip from the branching Alps their p • ny load! The huge incumbrance of horrifie woods From Aſian Taurus, from Ima • , ſtretch'd Athwart the roving Tartar's ſullen bounds! Give opening Hemus to my ſearching eye, And high Olymp •• pouring many a ſtream! O from the ſounding ſummits of the north, The Dofrine hills, thro' Scandinavia roll'd To fartheſt Lapland and the frozen main; From lofty Caac • ſus, far ſeen by thoſe Who in the Caſpian and black Euxine toil; From cold Riphean rocks, which the wild Ruſs Believes the The Muſcovites call the Riplean Mountains Weliki C • manypoy • , that is the great ſtony girdle; becauſe they ſuppoſe them to encompaſs the • hole earth. ſtony girdle of the world; And all the dreadful mountains, wrapt in ſtorm, Whence wide Siberia draws her lonely floods; O ſweep th' eternal ſnow • ! Hung o'er the deep, That ever works beneath his ſounding baſe, Bid Atlas, propping heaven, as poets feign, His ſubterranean wonders ſpread! unveil The miny caverns, blazing on the day, Of Abyſſinia's cloud-compelling cliffs, And of the bending A range of mountains in Africa, that ſurround almoſt all Monom • tapa. Mountains of the Moon! O'ertoping all theſe giant ſons of earth, Let the dire Andes, from the radiant line Stretch'd to the ſtormy ſeas that thunder round The ſouthern pole, their hideous deeps unfold! Amazing ſcene! Behold? the glooms diſcloſe! I ſee the rivers in their infant beds! Deep, deep I hear them lab'ring to get free! I ſee the leaning ſtrata, artful rang'd; The gaping fiſſures to receive the rains The melting ſnows, and ever-dripping fogs. Strow'd bibulous above I ſee the ſands, The pebbly g • avel next, the layers then Of mingled moulds, of more retentive earths, The gutter'd rocks and mazy running clefts; That, while the ſtealing moiſture they tranſmit, Retard its motion, and forbid its waſte. Beneath th' inceſſant weeping of theſe drains, I ſee the rocky ſiphons ſtretch'd immenſe, The mighty reſervoirs, of harden'd chalk, Or ſtiff-compacted clay, capacious form'd O'erflowing thence, the congregated ſtores, The cryſtal treaſures of the liquid world, Thro' the ſtir'd ſands a bubbling paſſage burſt; And welling out, around the middle ſteep. Or from the bottoms of the boſom'd hills, In pure eff • ſion flow. United, thus, Th' exhaling ſun, the vapour-burden'd air, The gelid mountains, that to rain condens'd Theſe vapours in continual current draw, And ſend them, o'er the fair-divided earth, In bounteous rivers to the deep again. A ſocial commerce hold, and firm ſupport The full adjuſted harmony of things. When Autumn ſcatters his departing gleams, Warn'd of approaching Winter, gathered, play The ſwallow-people; and toſs'd wide around, O'er the calm ſky, in convolution ſwift, The feathered eddy floats: rejoicing once, • re to their wint'ry ſlumbers they retire; ••• luſters clung, beneath the mould'ring bank, And where, unpierc'd by froſt, the cavern ſweats, Or rather into warmer climes convey'd, With other kindred birds of ſeaſon, there They twitter chearful, till the vernal months Invite them welcome back: for, thronging, now Innumerous wings are in commotion all. Where the Rhine loſes his majeſtic force In Belgian plains, won from the raging deep, By diligence amazing, and the ſtrong Unconquerable hand of Liberty, The ſtork-aſſembly meets; for many a day, Conſulting deep, and various, ere they take Their arduous voyage thro' the liquid ſky. And now their route deſign'd, their leaders choſe, Their tribes adjuſted, clean'd their vigorous wings; And ma • y a circle, many a ſhort eſſay, Wheel'd round and round, in congregation full The figur'd flight aſcends; and, riding high Th • a • rial b • llows, mixes with the clouds. Or where the Northern ocean, in vaſt whirls, Boils round the naked melancholy iſles Of fartheſt Th • l, and th' Atlantic ſurge Pours in among the ſtormy • ebrides; Who can recount what tranſmigrations there Are annual made? what nations come and go? And how the living clouds on clouds ariſes? Infinite wings! till all the plume-dark air, And rude reſounding ſhore, are on the cry. Here the plain harmleſs native his ſmall flock, And herd diminutive of many hues. Tends on the little iſland's verdant ſwell, The ſhepherd's ſea-girt reign • or, to the rocks Dire clinging, gathers his ovarious food; Or ſweeps the fiſhy ſhore; or treaſures up The plumage, riſing full, to form the bed Of luxury. And here a while the Muſe, High-hovering o're the broad coerulean ſcene, Sees CALEDONIA, in romantic view; Her airy mountains, from the waving main, Inveſted with a keen diffuſive ſky. Breathing the ſoul acute; her foreſts huge, Incult, robuſt, and tall, by Nature's hand Planted of old; her azure lakes between, Pour'd out extenſive, and of watery wealth Full; winding deep, and green, her fertile vales; With many a cool tranſlucent brimming flood Waſh'd lovely, from the Twee • (pure parent ſtream, Whoſe Paſtoral banks firſt heard my D • ric reed, With ſilvan Je • , thy tributary brook) To where the north-in • tated tempeſt foames O'er Orca's or B • tubi • 's higheſt peak: Nurſe of a people, in misfor • une's ſchool Train'd up to hardy deeds; ſoon viſited By Le • rning, when before the Gothic rage She took her weſtern flight. A manly race, Of unſubmitting ſpirit, wiſe and brave; Who ſtill thro' bleeding ages ſtruggled hard, As w • ll unhappy WALLACE can atteſt, Great patriot-hero • ill requited chief!) To hold a generous undiminiſh'd ſtate; Too much in vain! Hence of unequal bounds Impatient, and by tempting glory borne O'er every land, for every land their life Has flow'd profuſe, their piercing genius plan'd, And ſwell'd the pomp of peace their faithful toil. As from their own clear north, in radiant ſtreams, Bright over Europe burſts the B • real Morn. Oh is there not ſome patriot, in whoſe power That beſt, that godlike Luxury is plac'd, Of bleſſing thouſands, thouſands yet unborn, Thro' late poſterity? ſome, large of ſoul, To chear dejected induſtry? to give A double harveſt to the pining ſwain? And teach the labouring hand the ſweets of toil? How, by the fineſt art, the native robe To weave; how, white as hyperborean ſnow To form the lucid lawn; with venturous oar How to daſh wide the billow; nor look on. Shamefully paſſive, while Ba • avian fleets Defraud us of the glittering finny ſwarms, That heave our friths, and croud upon our ſhores▪ How all-enlivening trade to rouſe, and wing The proſperous ſail, from every growing port, Uninjur'd, round the ſea-incircled globe; And thus, in ſoul united as in name, Bid BRITAIN reign the miſtreſs of the deep? Yes, there are ſuch. And full on thee, ARGYLE, Her hope, her ſtay, her darling, and her boaſt, From her firſt patriots and her heroes ſprung, Thy fond imploring Country turns her eye; In thee, with all a mother's triumph, ſees Her every virtue, every grace combin'd, Her genius, wiſdom, her engaging turn, Her pride of honour, and her courage try'd, Calm, and intrepid, in the very throat Of ſulphurous war, on Tenier's dreadful field. Nor leſs the palm of peace in wreathes thy brow: For, powerful as thy ſword, from thy rich tongue Perſuaſion flows, and wins the high debate; While mix'd in thee combine the charm of youth, The force of manhood, and the depth of age. Thee, FORBES, too, whom every worth attends, As truth ſincere, as weeping friendſhip kind, Thee, truly generous, and in ſilence great, Thy country feels thro' her reviving arts, Plan'd by thy wiſdom, by thy ſoul inform'd; And ſeldom has ſhe known a friend like thee. But ſee the fading many colour'd woods, Shade deepening over ſhade, the country round Imbrowns; a crowded umbrage, duſk, and dun, Of every hue, from wan declining green To ſooty dark. Theſe now the loneſome Muſe, Low-whiſpering, lead into their leaf-ſtrown walks, And give the ſeaſon in its lateſt view. Meantime, light-ſhadowing all, a ſober calm Fleeces unbounded aether▪ whoſe leaſt wave Stands tremulous, uncertain where to turn The gentle current▪ while illumin'd wide, The dewy-ſkirted clouds imbibe the ſun, And thro' their lucid veil his ſoftened force Shed o'er the peaceful world. Then is the time For thoſe whom wiſdom and whom Nature charm▪ To ſteal themſelves from the degenerate crowd, And ſoar above this little ſ • ene of things; To tread low-thoughted vic • beneath their • eet▪ To ſoothe the throbbing paſſions into peace; And wooe lone Quie • in her ſilent walks. Thus ſolitary, and in penſive guiſe, Oft let me wander o'er the ruſſ • t • mead, And thro' the ſadden'd grove, where ſcarce is heard One dying ſtrain to cheer the woodman's toil. Haply ſome widow'd ſongſter po • rs her plaint, Far, in faint warblings, thro' the tawny copſe. While congregated thruſ • es, linnets, larks, And each wild throat, whoſe artleſs ſtrains ſo late Swell'd all the muſic of the ſwarming ſhades, Robb'd of their tuneful ſouls, now ſhivering ſit On the dead tree, a full deſpondent flock; With not a brightneſs waving o'er their plumes, And nought ſave chattering diſcord in their note. O let not, aim'd from ſome inhuman eye, The gun, the muſic of the coming year Deſtroy; and harmleſs, unſuſpecting harm, Lay the weak tribes, a miſerable prey, In mingled murder, fluttering on the ground! The pale deſcending year, yet pleaſing ſtill, A gentler mood inſpires; for now the leaf Inceſſant ruſtles from the mournful grove; Oft ſtartl • ng ſuch as, ſtudious, walk below, And ſlowly circles thro' the waving air. But ſhould a quicker breeze amid the boughs Sob, o'er the ſky the leafy deluge ſtreams; Till choak'd and matted with the dreary ſhower, The foreſt-walks, at every riſing gale, Roll wide the wither'd waſte, and whiſtle bleak, Fled is the blaſted verdure of the fields; And ſhrunk into their beds the flowery race Their ſunny robes reſign. Even what remain'd Of ſtronger fruits falls from the naked tree; And woods, fields, gardens, orchards, all around The deſolated proſpect thrills the ſoul. He comes! he comes! in every breeze the POWER Of PHILOSOPHIC MELANCHOLY comes! His near approach the ſudden ſtarting tear, The glowing cheek, the mild dejected air, The ſoften'd feature, and the beating heart, Pierc'd deep with many a virtuous pang, declare. O'er all his ſoul his ſacred influence breathes! Inflames imagination; thro' the breaſt Infuſes every tenderneſs; and far Beyond dim earth exalts the ſwelling thought. Ten thouſand thouſand fleet ideas, ſuch As never mingled with the vulgar dream, Croud faſt into the mind's creative eye, As faſt the correſpondent paſſions riſe, As varied, and as high: Devotion rais'd To rapture, and divine aſtoniſhment; The love of Nature unconfin'd, and, chief, Of human race; the large ambitious wiſh, To make them bleſt; the ſigh for ſuffering worth, Loſt in obſcurity; the noble ſcorn Of tyrant pride; the fearleſs great reſolve; The wonder which the dying patriot draws, Inſpiring glory thro' remoteſt time; The awaken'd throb for virtue and for ſame; The ſympathies of love, and friendſhip dear; With all the ſocial off • pring of the heart. Oh bear me then to vaſt embowering ſhades, To twilight-grove • , and viſionary vales; To weeping grottoes, and prophetic glooms; Where angel-forms athwart the ſolemn duſk, Tremendous ſweep, or ſeem to ſweep along; And voices more than human, thro' the void Deep-ſounding, ſeize the enthuſiaſtic ear! Or is this gloom too much? Then lead, ye powers, That o'er the garden and the rural ſeat Preſide, which ſhining thro' the chearful land In countleſs numbers, bleſt BRITANNIA ſees; O lead me to the wide-extended walks, The fair majeſtic paradiſe of The ſeat of Lord Viſcount Colham, now of Earl Temple. STOWE! Not Perſian Cyrus on Ionia's ſhore E'er ſaw ſuch ſilvan ſcenes; ſuch various art By genius fir'd, ſuch ardent genius tam'd By cool judicious art; that in the ſtrife, A • l-beauteous Nature ſears to be outdone. And there, O PITT▪ thy country's early boaſt, There let me ſit beneath the ſheltered ſlopes, Or in that Temple of Virtue in Stowe-Gardens. Temple, where, in future times, Thou well ſhalt merit a diſtinguiſh'd name; And, with thy converſe bleſs'd, catch the laſt ſmiles Of Autumn beaming o'er the yellow woods. While there with thee th' inchanted round • walk, The regulated wild, gay fancy then Will tread in thought the groves of Attic land; W • ll from thy ſtandard taſte refine her own, Correct her pecil to the pureſt truth Of Nature, or, the unimpaſſion'd ſhades Forſaking, raiſe it to the human mind. Or if hereafter ſhe, with juſter hand, Shall draw the tragic ſcene, inſtruct her thou, To mark the varied movements of the heart, What every decent character requires, And every paſſion ſpeaks: O thro' her ſtrain Breathe thy pathetic eloquence! that moulds Th' attentive ſenate, charms, perſuades, exalts, Of honeſt Zeal the indignant lightening throws, And ſhakes Corruption on her ve • a • throne, While thus we talk, and thro' Ely • n v • les Delighte • rove, perhaps a ſigh eſcape • : What p • ty COBHAM, thou th • v • rdan files Of order'd trees ſhould • ſt here inglorious range, Inſtead of ſquadrons flaming o'er 〈…〉 And long embattled hoſts; when th • 〈…〉 The faithleſs vain diſturber of mank • . Inſulting Gaul, has rous'd the world 〈…〉 When keen, once more, within their 〈…〉 Thoſe poliſh'd robbers, thoſe a • biti • 〈◊〉 The BRITISH YOUTH would h • thy 〈…〉 • and, Thy temper'd ardor, and thy veteran ſk • The weſtern ſun withdraws the ſhor • 〈…〉 ▪ And humid evening, gliding o'er the ſk • In her chill • progreſs, to the ground c • 〈◊〉 The vapours throws. Where • reeping 〈◊〉 is ooze, Where marſhes ſtagnate, and where rive • • nd, Cluſter the rolling fogs, and • wi • along The duſky mantled lawn • Meanwhile the moon Full-orb'd, and breaking thro' the ſcattered clouds, Shews her broad viſage in the crimſon'd caſt. Turn'd to the ſun direct her ſpotted diſk Where mountains riſe, umbrageous • ales deſcend, And caverns deep 〈◊〉 optic tube deſcries. A ſmal • er earth • ves us its blaze agai • ▪ Void of its flame, and ſheds a ſo • ter 〈◊〉 Now thro' the paſſing cloud ſhe ſeen 〈◊〉 • oop. Now up the pure coerulean rides ſub • Wide • he pale deluge floats, and ſtr • 〈◊〉 mild O'er the ſky'd mountain to the ſhad • 〈◊〉 , While rocks and floods reflect the 〈◊〉 gleam, The whole air whiten • with a b • 〈…〉 Of ſilver radiance trembling ro • d • he • or • d But when half-blotted from the ſky, her light, Fainting, pemits the ſtarry fires to burn With keener luſtre thro' the depth of heaven; Or near extinct her deadened orb appears And ſcarce appears, of ſickly beamleſs white; Oft in this ſeaſon, ſilent from the north A blaze of meteors ſhoots: enſweeping firſt The lower ſkies▪ they all at once converge High to the crown of heaven, and all at once Relapſing quick, as quickly reaſcend, And mix, and thwart, extinguiſh, and renew, All aether courſing in a maze of light. From look to look, contagious thro' the croud The panic runs, and into wondrous ſhapes Th' appearance throws: armies in meet array, Throng'd with aërial ſpears, and ſteeds of fire; Till the long lines to full-extended war In bleeding fight commix'd, the ſanguine flood Rolls a broad ſlaughter o'er the plains of heaven. As thus they ſcan the viſionary ſcene, On all ſides ſwells the ſuperſtitious din, Incontinent; and buzy frenzy talks Of blood and battle; cities overturn'd And late at night in ſwallowing earthquake ſunk, Or hideous wrapt in fierce aſcending flame; Of ſallow famine, inundation, ſtorm; Of peſtilence, and every great d • ſtreſs; Empires ſubvers'd, when ruling Fate has ſtruck Th' unalterable hour: even Nature's ſelf▪ Is deem'd to totter on the brin • of rime. Not ſo the man of philoſophic eye, And inſpect ſage; the waving brightneſs he Curious ſurveys, inquiſitive to know The cauſes and materials, yet unfix'd, Of this appearance, beautiful and new. Now the black, and deep, night begins to fall, A ſhade immenſe, Sunk in the quenching gloom, Magnificent and vaſt, are heaven and earth. Order confounded lyes; all beauty void; Diſtinction loſt; and gay variety One univerſal blot; ſuch the fair power Of light, to kindle and create the whole. Drear is the ſtate of the benighted wretch, Who then, bewilder'd, wanders thro' the dark, Full of pale fancies, and chimeras huge; Nor viſited by one directive ray, From cottage ſtream • ng▪ or from airy hall. Perhaps impatient as he ſtumbles on, Struck from the root of ſlimy ruſhes, blue, The wild-fire ſcatters round, or gathered trails A length of flame decitful o'er the moſs: Whither decoy'd by the fantaſtic blaze, Now loſt, and now renew'd, he ſinks abſorpt, Rider and horſe, amid the mi • y gulph: Where ſtill, from day to day, his pin • ng wife, And plaintive ch • ldren, his return await, In wild conjecture loſt. At other times, Sent by the better Genius of the night, Innoxious, gleaming on the horſe's mane, The meteor ſits; and ſhews the narrow path, That winding leads thro' pits of death, or elſe Inſtructs him how to take the dangerous ford. The lengthened night elaps'd, the morning ſh • nes Serene, in all her dewy beauty bright, Unfolding fair the laſt autumnal day. And now the mounting ſun diſpels the fog; The rigid hoar-froſt melts before his beam; And hung on every ſpray, on every blade Of graſs, the myriad dew-drops twinkle round. Ah ſee where robb'd, and murder'd, in that pit, Lyes the ſtill heaving hive; at evening ſnatch'd, Beneath the cloud of guilt-concealing night. And fix'd o'er ſulphur: while, not dreaming ill, The happy people, in their waxen cells, Sat tending public cares, and planing ſchemes Of temperance▪ for Winter poor; rejoic'd To mark, full flowing round, their copious ſtores, Sudden the dark oppreſſive ſteam aſcends: And, us'd to milder ſcents, the tender race, By thouſands▪ tumble from their honeyed domes, Convolv'd and agnoizing in the duſt. And was it then for this you rom'd the Spring, Intent from flower to flower? for this you toil'd Ceaſeleſs the burning Summer-heats away? For this in Autumn ſearch'd the blooming waſte, Nor loſt on ſunny gleam? for this ſad fate? O Man! tyrannic lord! how long, how long, Shall proſtrate Nature groan beneath your rage; Awaiting renovation? When obliged, Muſt you deſtroy? Of their ambroſial food Can you not borrow; and, in juſt return, Afford them ſhelter from the wint'ry winds: Or, as the ſharp year pinches, with their own Again regale them on ſome ſmiling day? See where the ſtony bottom of their town Looks deſolate and w • ld; with here and there A helpleſs number, who the ruin'd ſtate Survive, lamenting weak, caſt out to death. Thus a proud city, populous and rich, Full of the works of peace, and high in joy, At theatre or feaſt, or ſunk in ſleep, (As late Palermo, was they ſate) is ſeiz'd By ſome dread earthquake, and convulſive hurl'd Sh • er from the black foundation, ſtench-involv'd, Into a gulph of blue ſulphureous flame. Hence every harſher ſight! for now the day. O'er heaven and ear • h diſ • us'd, grows warm, and high Infinite ſplender! wi • e-inveſting all. How ſtill the breeze! ſave what the filmy threads Of dew evaporate bruſhes from the plain. How clear the cloudleſs ſky! how deeply ting'd With a peculiar blue! th' ethereal arch How ſwell'd immenſe! amid whoſe azure th • on' • The radiant ſun how gay! how calm below The gilded earth! the harveſt-treaſures all Now gather'd in, beyond the rage of ſtorms, Sure to the ſwain; the circling ſence ſhut up; And inſtant Winter's utmoſt rage defy'd. While, looſe to feſtive joy, the country round Laugh • with the loud ſincerity of mirth, Shook to the wind their cares. The toil-ſtrung youth, By the quick ſenſe of muſic taugh • • lone, Leaps wildly graceful in the lively dance. He every charm abroad, the village toaſt, Young, buxom▪ warm, in native beauty rich▪ Darts no • -unmeaning looks; and, where her eye Points an approving ſmile, with double force, The cudgel rattles, and the wreſtler twines. Age too ſhines out; and, garrulous, recounts The fa • es of youth. Thus they rejoice; nor think That with to-morrow's ſun, their annu • toil Begins again the never-ceaſing round Oh, knew he but his happineſs, of men The happieſt he! who far from public rage, Deep in the vale, with a choice few retired, Drinks the pure pleaſures of the RURAL LIFE. What tho' the dome be wanting, whoſe proud gate, Each morning, vomits out the ſneaking croud Of flatterers falſe, and in their turn abus'd? Vile intercourſe! What tho' the glittering robe Of every hue reflected light can give, Or floating looſe, or ſtiff with mazy gold, The pride and gaze of fools! oppreſs him not? What tho', from utmoſt land and ſea purvey'd For him each rarer tributary life Bleeds not, and his inſatiate table heaps With luxury and death? What tho' his bowl Flames not with coſtly juice, nor ſunk in beds, Oft of gay care, he toſſes out the night, Or melts the thoughtleſs hours in idle ſtate? What tho' he knows not thoſe fantaſtic joys That ſtill amuſe the wanton, ſtill deceive; A face of pleaſure, but a heart of pain▪ Their hollow moments undelighted all? Sure peace is his; a ſolid life, eſtrang'd To diſappointment, and fallacious hope: Rich in content, in Nature's bounty rich, In herbs and fruits; whatever greens the Spring, When Heaven deſcends in ſhowers; or bends the bough When Summer reddens, and when Au • umn beams; Or in the wint'ry glebe whatever lies Conceal'd, and fatte • s with the richeſt ſap: Theſe are not wanting: nor the milky drove, Luxuriant, ſpread o'er all the lowing vale; Nor bleating mountains; nor the chide of ſtreams, And hum of bees, inviding ſle • p ſincere Into the guiltleſs breaſt, beneath the ſhade, Or thrown at large amid the fragrant • ay; Nor aught beſides of proſpect, grove, or ſong, Dim grotto • s, gleaming lakes, and fountain clear. Here too dwells ſimple truth; plain innocence; Unſullied beauty; ſound unbroken youth, Patient of labour, with a little pleas'd; Health ever-blooming; unambitious toil; Calm contemplation, and poetic eaſe. Let others brave the flood in queſt of gain, And beat for joyleſs months, the gloomy wave Let ſuch as deem it glory to deſtroy, Ruſh into blood, the ſack of cities ſeek; Unpierc'd, exulting in the widow's wail, The virgin's ſhriek, the infant's trembling cry. Let ſome, far diſtant from ther native ſoil, Urg'd or by want, or hardened avarice, Find other lands beneath another ſun. Let this thro' cities work his eager way, By legal outrage and eſtabliſh'd guile, The ſocial ſenſe extinct; and that ferment Mad into tumult the ſeditious herd, Or melt them down to ſlavery. Let theſe Inſnare the wretched in the toils of law, Fomenting diſcord, and perplexing right, An iron race! and thoſe of fairer front, But equal inhumanity, in courts, Deluſive pomp, and dark cabals, delight: Wreathe the deep brow diffuſe the lying ſmile, And tread the weary labyrinth of ſtate. While he, from all the ſtormy paſſions free That reſtleſs men involve, hears, and but hears, At diſtance ſafe, the human tempeſt roar, Wrapt cloſe in conſcious peace. The fall of kings, The rage of nations, and the cruſh of ſtates Move not the man, who from the world eſcap'd In ſtill retreats, and flowery ſolitudes, To Nature's voice attends, from month to month, And day to day, thro' the revolving year; Admiring ſees her in her every ſhape, Feels all her ſweet emotions at his heart; Takes what ſhe liberal gives, nor thinks of more. He, when young Spring protrudes the burſting gems, Marks the firſt bud, and ſucks the healthful gale Into his freſhen'd ſoul; her genial hours He full enjoys; and not a beauty blows, And not an opening bloſſom breathes in vain. In Summer he, beneath the living ſhade, Such as o'er frigid Tempe wont to wave, Or Hemus cool, reads what the Muſe of th • ſe Perhaps, has in immortal numbers ſung; Or what ſhe dictates writes: and, oft an eye Shot round, rejoices in the vigorous year. When Autumn's yellow luſtre gilds the world, And tempts the fickled ſwain into the field; Se • z'd by the general joy, his heart diſtends With gentle throes; and thro' the tepid gleams Deep-muſing, then he beſt exerts his ſong. Even winter wild to him is full of bliſs. The mighty tempeſt and the hoary waſte, Abrupt, and deep, ſtretch'd o'er the buried earth, Awake to ſolemn thought. At night the ſkies, Diſclos'd, and k • ndled, by refining froſt, Pour ev'ry luſtre on th' exalted eye. A friend, a book, the ſtealing hours ſecure, And mark them down for wiſdom. With ſwift wing, O'er land and ſea imagination roams; Or truth, divinely breaking on his mind, Ela • es his being, and unfolds his powers. Or in his breaſt heroic virtue burns. The touch of kindred to • , and love he feels; The modeſt eye, whoſe beams on his alone▪ Ecſtatic ſhine; the little ſtrong embrace Of prattling children, twin'd around his neck, And emulous to pleaſe him, calling forth The fond parental ſoul. Nor purpoſe gay, Amuſement, dance, or ſong, he ſternly ſcorns; For happineſs and true philoſophy Are of the ſocial ſtill, and ſmiling kind. This is the life which thoſe who fret in guilt. And guilty cities, never knew; the life Led by primeval ages, uncorrupt, When angels dwelt, and GOD himſelf, with man! Oh NATURE! all-ſufficient! over all! Enrich me with the knowledge of thy works! Snatch me to heaven; thy rolling wonders there, World beyond world, in infinite extent, Profuſely ſcattered o'er the blue immenſe, Shew me; their motions, periods, and their laws, Give me to ſcan; thro' the diſcloſing deep Light my blind way: the mineral ſtrata there, Thruſt, blooming, thence the vegetable world; O'er that the riſing ſyſtem, more complex, Of an • mals; and higher ſtill the mind, The varied ſcene of quick-compounded thought, And where the mixing paſſions endleſs ſhift; Theſe ever open to my raviſh'd eye; A ſearch the fl • ght of time can n'er exhauſt? But if to that unequal; if the blood, In ſluggiſh ſtreams about my heart, forbid That beſt ambition; under cloſing ſhades, In glorious lay me by the lowly brook, And whiſper to my dreams. From THEE begin, Dwell all on THEE, with THEE conclude my ſong; And let me never, never ſtray from THEE!

WINTER

WINTER. The ARGUMENT.

The ſubject propoſed. Addreſs to the Earl ef WILMINGTON. Firſt approach of Winter. According to the natural courſe of the ſeaſon, various ſtorms deſcribed. Rain. Wind. Snow. The driving of the ſnows: A Man periſhing among them; whence reflections on the wants and miſeries of human life. The wolves deſcending from the Alps and Appenines. A wintry evening deſcribed; as ſpent by philoſophers; by the country people; in the city Froſt. A view of Winter within the polar circle. A thaw. The whole concluding with moral reflexions on a future ſtate.

WINTER. SEE, WINTER comes, to rule the varied year, Sullen, and ſad, with all his riſing train; Vapours, and Clouds, and Storms. Be theſe my theme, Theſe, that exalt my ſoul to ſolemn thought, And heavenly muſing. Welcome, kindred glooms! Congenial horrors, hail! with frequent foot, Pleas'd have I, in my chearful morn of life, When nurs'd by careleſs ſolitude I liv'd, And ſung of Nature with unceaſing joy, Pleas'd have I wander'd thro' the rough domain; Trod the pure virgin-ſnows, myſelf as pure; Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burſt; Or ſeen the deep fermenting tempeſt brew'd, In the grim-evening ſky Thus paſs'd the time, Till thro' the lucid chambers of the ſouth Look'd out the joyous SPRING, look'd out and ſmil'd. To thee, the patron of her firſt eſſay, The Muſe, O WILMINGTON! renews her ſong. Since has ſhe rounded the revolving year: Skimm'd the gay Spring; on eagle-pinions borne, Attempted thro' the Summer-blaze to riſe; Then ſwept o'er Autumn with the ſhadowy gale; And now among the wint'ry clouds again, Roll'd in the doubling ſtorm, ſhe tries to ſoar; To ſwell her no • e w • th all the ruſhing winds; To ſuit her ſounding cadence to the floods; As in her theme, her numbers wildly great: Thrice happy! could ſhe fill thy judging ear With bold deſcription, and with manly thought. Nor art thou ſkill • • n awful ſchemes alone, And how to m •• e a mighty people thrive: But equal • oodneſs, ſound integrity, A f •• m • ſhaken uncorrupted ſoul Ami •• ſliding age, and burning ſtrong, Not vainly blazing for thy country's weal, A ſteady ſpirit regularly free; Theſe, each exalting each, the ſtateſman light Into the patriot; theſe, the public hope And eye to thee converting, bid the Muſe ••• ord what envy dares not flattery call. Now when the chearleſs empire of the ſky To Capricorn the C • ntaur Archer yield • , And fierce Aquarius ſtains th'inver • ed year. Hung o'er the fartheſt ve • ge of heaven, the ſun Scarce ſpreads o'er aether the deje • ted day. Faint are his gleams, and ineffectual ſhoot His ſtruggling rays, in horizontal lines, Thro' the thick air▪ as cloath'd in cloudy ſtorm. Weak, wan, and broad, he ſkirts the ſouthern ſky; And, ſoon deſcending, to the long dark night▪ •• de ſhading all, the proſtrate world reſign • . Nor is the night unwiſh'd; while vital heat, Light, life, and joy, the dubious day forſake. Meantime, in ſable cincture, ſhadows vaſt, Deep-ting'd, and damp, and congregated clouds, And all the vapoury turbulence of heaven Involve the face of things. Thus Winter falls, A heavy gloom oppreſſive o'er the world. Thro' Nature ſhedding influence malign▪ And rou • es up the ſeeds of dark diſeaſe. The ſoul of man dies in him, loathing life▪ And black with more than melancholy views, The cattle 〈◊〉 and o'er the •• rrowed land▪ Freſh from th • plough, the ſun diſco • 〈◊〉 fl • cks, Untended ſpreading, crop the wholeſome 〈◊〉 Along the woods, along the mooriſh ſens, Sighs the ſad Genius of the coming ſtorm; And up amongſt the looſe disjointed cliffs, And fractur'd mountains wild, the brawling brook And cave, preſageful, ſend a hollow • oan, Reſounding long in l ••• ening Fancy's ear. Then comes the father of the tempeſt forth, Wrapt in black glooms. Firſt joyleſs, rains obſcure Drive through the mingling ſki • with vapour ſoul; Daſh on the mountain's brow, and ſhake the wood, That grumbling wave below. Th' unſightly plain Lyes a brown de • uge; as the low-bent clouds P • ur flood on flood, yet unexhauſted ſtill Combine, and, deepening into night, ſhut up The day's fair face. The wanderers 〈◊〉 you, Each to his home re • ire; • a • e 〈…〉 love To take their paſtime in the troubled air, Or ſkimming •• utter round the dimply pool. The cattle from th' untaſted fields return, And aſk, with meaning lowe, their wonted ſtalls, Or ruminate in the contiguous ſhade, Thither the houſehold feathery people croud, The creſted cock, with all his female train. Penſive, and dripping; while the cottage-hind Hangs o'er th' enlivening blaze, and taleful there Recounts his ſimple frolic; much he talks, And much he laughs, nor recks the ſtorm that blows Without, and rattles on his humble roof. Wide o'er • he brim, with many a torrent ſwell'd. And the mix'd ruin of its banks o'erſpread, At laſt the rous'd-up river pours along▪ Reſiſtleſs, roaring, dreadful, down it comes, From the • de mountain, and the moſſy wild, Tumbl • g thro' rocks abrupt, and ſounding far; Th • o'er the ſanded valley floating ſpreads, • alm, ſluggiſh, ſilent; till again conſtrain'd Between two meeting hills, it burſts away, Where rocks and woods o'er hang the turbid ſtream; There gathering triple force, rapid, and deep, It boils, and wheels, and foams and thunders through. Nature! great parent! whoſe unceaſing hand Rolls round the ſeaſons of the changeful year, How mighty, how majeſtic, are thy works! With what a pleaſing dread they ſwell the ſoul! That ſees aſton • ſh'd! and aſtoniſh'd ſings! Ye too, ye winds! that now begin to blow, With boiſterous ſweep, I raiſe my vo • ce to you. Where are your ſtores, ye powerful beings! ſay, Where your aërial magaz • nes reſerv'd, To ſwell the brooding terrors of the ſtorm! In what far-diſtant reg • on of the ſky, Huſh'd in deep ſilence, ſleep ye when 'tis calm? When from the pallid ſky the ſun deſcends, With many a ſpot, that o'er his glaring orb Uncertain wanders, ſta • n'd; red fiery ſtreaks Begin to fluſh around. The reeling clouds Stagger with dizzy poiſe, as doubting yet Which maſter to obey: while riſing ſlow, Blank, in the leaden-colour'd eaſt, the moon Wears a wan circle round her blunted horns. Seen thro' the turb'd, fluctuating air, The ſtars obtuſe emit a ſhiver'd ray; Or frequent ſeem to ſhoot athwart the gloom, And long behind them trail the whitening blaze. Snatch'd in ſhort eddies, plays the wither'd leaf; And on the flood the dancing feather floats. With broadened noſtrils to the ſky up-turn'd, The conſcious heifer ſnuffs the ſtormy gale, Even as the matron, at her nightly taſk, With penſive labour draws the ſiaxen thread, The waſted taper and the crackling flame Foretel the blaſt. But chief the plumy race, The tenants of the ſky, its changes ſpeak. Retiring from the downs, where all day long They pick'd their ſcanty fair, a blackening train, Of clamorous rooks thick urge their weary flight, And ſeek the cloſing ſhelter of the grove; Aſſiduous, in his bower, the wailing owl Plies his ſad ſong. The cormorant on high Wheels from the deep, and ſcreams along the land Loud ſhrieks the ſoaring hern; and with wild wing The circling ſea-fowl cleave the flaky clouds. Ocean, unequal preſs'd, with broken tide And blind commotion heaves; while from the ſhore, Eat into caverns by the reſtleſs wave, And foreſt-ruſtling mountain, comes a voice, That ſolemn-ſounding bids the world prepare. Then iſſues forth the ſtorm with ſudden burſt, And hurls the whole precipitated air Down, in a torrent. On the paſſive main Deſcends th' ethereal force, and with ſtrong guſt Turns from its bottom the diſcoloured deep. Thro' the black night that ſits immenſe arounds, Laſh'd into foam, the fierce-conflicting brine Seems o'er a thouſand raging waves to burn: Meantime the mountain billows, to the clouds In dreadful tumult ſwell'd ſurge above ſurge, Burſt into chaos with tremendous roar, And anchor'd navies from their ſtations drive, Wild as the winds acroſs the howling waſte Of mighty waters: now th' inflated wave Straining they ſcale, and now impetuous ſhoot Into the ſecret chambers of the deep. The wint'ry Baltic thund'ring o'er their head. Emerging thence again, before the breath Of full-exerted heaven they wing their courſe, And dart on diſtant coaſts; if ſome ſharp rock, Or ſhoal inſidious break not their career, And in looſe fragments fling them floating round. Nor leſs at land the looſened tempeſt reigns. The mountain thunders; and its ſturdy ſons Stoop to the bottom of the rocks they ſhade. Lone on the midnight ſteep, and all aghaſt, The dark wayfaring ſtranger breathleſs toils, And, often falling, climbs againſt the blaſt. Low waves the rooted foreſt, vex'd, and ſheds What of its tarniſh'd 〈◊〉 yet remain; D • ſh'd down, and ſcatter'd, by the tearing winds ••• duous fury, its gigantic limbs. Thus ſtruggling thro' the diſſipated grove, The whirling tempeſt raves along the plain; And on the cottage thatch'd, or lordly roof, Keen-faſtening, ſhakes them to the ſolid baſe. Sleep frighted flies; and round the rocking dome, For entrance eager, howls the ſavage bla • . Then too, they ſay, thro' all the burthen'd ai • , Long groans are heard, ſhrill ſounds and diſtant ſighs, That, utter'd by the Demon of the night, Warn the devoted wretch of woe and death. Huge uproar lords it wide. The clouds commix'd With ſtars ſwift-gliding ſweep along the ſky. All Nature reels. Till Nature's KING, who oft Amid tempeſtuous darkneſs dwells alone, And on the wings of the careering wind Walks dreadfully ſerene, commands a calm; Then ſtraight air, ſea, and earth are huſh'd at once. As yet, 'tis midnight deep. The weary clouds, Slow-meeting, mingle into ſolid gloom. Now, while the drowſy world lies loſt in ſleep, Let me aſſociate with the ſerious Night, And Contemplation her ſedate compeer; Let me ſhake off th'intruſive cares of day, And lay the meddling ſenſes all aſide. Where now, ye lying vanities of life! Ye ever-tempting, ever-cheating train! Where are ye now! and what is your amount? Vexation, diſappointment, and remorſe. Sad, ſickening thought! and yet deluded Man, A ſcene of crude disjointed viſions paſt, And broken ſlumbers, riſes ſtill reſolv'd, With new-fluſh'd hopes, to run the giddy round. Father of light and life! thou GOOD SUPREME! O teach me what is good! teach me THYSELF! Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, From every low purſuit! and feed my ſoul With knowledge, conſcious peace, and virtue pure; Sacred, ſubſtantial, never-fading bliſs! The keener tempeſts riſe: and ſuming du • From all the livid eaſt, or piercing north, Thick clouds aſcend▪ in whoſe capacious womb A vapoury deluge lies, to ſnow congeal'd. Heavy they roll their fleecy world along; And the ſky faddens with the gathered ſtorm. Thro' the huſh'd air the whitening ſhower deſcends, At firſt thin wavering; till at laſt the flakes Fall broad, and wide, and faſt, dimming the day, With a continual flow. The cheriſh'd fields Put on their winter-robe of pureſt white. 'Tis brightneſs all; ſave where the new ſnow melts Along the mazy current. Lo, the woods Bow their hoar head; and, ere the languid ſun, Faint from the weſt, emits his evening ray▪ Earth's univerſal face, deep hid and chill, Is one wide dazzling waſte, that burys wide The works of Man. Drooping, the labourer-ox Stands cover'd o'er with ſnow, and then demands The fruit of all his toil. The fowls of heaven, Tam'd by the cruel ſeaſon, croud around The winnowing ſtore, and claim the little boon Which PROVIDENCE aſſigns them. One alone, The red-breaſt, ſacred to the houſhold gods, Wiſely regardful of th' embroiling ſky, In joyleſs fields, and thorny thickets, leaves His ſhivering mates, and pays to truſted Man His annual viſit. Half afraid, he firſt Againſt the window beats; then, briſk, alights On the warm hearth: then hopp • ng o'er the floor Eyes all the ſmiling family aſkance, And pecks, and ſtarts, and wonders where he is: Till more fam • liar grown, the table crumbs Attract his ſlender feet. The foodleſs wilds Pour forth their brown inhabitants. The hare, Tho' timorous of heart, and hard beſet By death in various forms, dark ſnares, and dogs, And more unpitying Men, the garden ſeeks, Urg'd on by fearleſs want. The bleating kind Eye the black heaven, and next the gliſt • ning earth, With looks of dumb deſpair; then, ſad diſpers'd, Dig for the wither'd herb thro heaps of ſnow. Now, ſhepherds, to your helpleſs charge be kind, Baffle the raging year, and fill their penns With food at will; lodge them below the ſtorm, And watch them ſtrict: for from their bellowing eaſt, In this d • re ſeaſon, oft the whirlwinds wing Sweeps up • he burthen of whole wintry plains At one wide waft, and o'er the hapleſs flocks, H • d in the hollow of two neighbouring hills, The billowy tempeſt whelms; till upward urg'd, The valley to a ſhining mountain ſwells. Tipt with a wreath high curling in the ſky. As thus the ſnows ariſe; and foul, and fierce, All Winter drives along the darkened air; In his own looſe revolving fields, the ſwain Diſaſter'd ſtands; ſees other hills aſcend, Of unknown joyleſs brow; and other ſcenes, Of horrid proſpect, ſhag the trackleſs plain; Nor finds the river, nor the foreſt, hid Beneath the formleſs wild; but wanders on From hill to dale, ſtill more and more aſtray. Impatient flouncing thro' the drifted heaps, Stung wi • h the thoughts of home; the thoughts of home Ruſh on his nerves, and call their vigour forth In many a vain attempt. How ſinks his ſoul! What black deſpair, what horror fills his heart? When for the duſky ſpot, which fancy feign'd His tufted cottage riſing thro' the ſnow, He meets the roughneſs of the middle waſte, Far from the tract, and bleſt abode of Man; While round him night reſiſtleſs cloſes faſt, And every tempeſt▪ howling o'er his head, Renders the ſavage wilderneſs more wild. Then throng the buſy ſhapes into his mind, Of cover'd pits, unfathomably deep, A dire deſcent! beyond the power of froſt, Of faithleſs bogs; of precipices huge, Smooth'd up with ſnow; and, what is land, unknown What water, of the ſtill unfrozen ſpring, In the looſe marſh or ſolitary lake, Where the freſh fountain from the bottom boils. Theſe check his fearful ſteps and down he ſink • Beneath the ſhelter of the ſhapeleſs drift, Thinking o'er all the bitterneſs of death, Mix'd with the tender anguiſh Nature ſhoots Thro' the wrung boſom of the dying Man, His wife, his children, and his friends unſeen. In vain for him th' officious wife prepares The fire fair-blazing and the veſtment warm; In vain his little children, peeping out Into the mingling ſtorm, demand their fire, With tears of artleſs innocence. Alas! Nor wife, nor children, more ſhall he behold, Nor friends, nor ſacred home. On ev • ry nerve The deadly Winter ſeizes: ſhuts up ſenſe; And, o'er his inmoſt vi • als creeping cold, Lays him along the ſnows, a ſtiffened corſe, Stretch'd out, and bleaching in the northern blaſt. Ah little think the gay licentious proud, Whom pleaſure, power, and affluence ſurround; They, who their thoughtleſs hours in giddy mirth, And wanton, often cruel, riot waſte: Ah little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death, And all the ſad variety of pain. How many ſink in the devouring flood, Or more devouring flame. How many bleed, By ſhameful variance betwixt Man and Man. How many pine in want, and dungeon-glooms; Shut from the common air, and common uſe Of their own limbs. How many drink the cup Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread Of miſery. Sore pierc'd by wintry winds, How many ſhrink into the ſordid hut Of cheerleſs poverty. How many wake With all the fiercer tortures of the mind, Unbounded paſſion, madneſs, guilt, remorſe; Whence tumbled headlong from the height of life, They furniſh matter for the tragic Muſe. Even in the vale where wiſdom loves to dwell, With friendſhip, peace, and contemplation join'd, How many, rack'd with honeſt paſſions, droop In deep retir'd-diſtreſs. How many ſtand Around the death-bed of their deareſt friends, And point the parting anguiſh. Thought fond Man Of theſe, and all the thouſand nameleſs ills, That one inceſſant ſtruggle render life, One ſcene of toil, of ſuffering, and of fate, Vice in his high career would ſtand appall'd, And heedleſs rambling Impulſe learn to think; The conſcious heart of Charity would warm, And her wide wiſh Benevolence dilate; The ſocial tear would riſe, the ſocial ſigh; And into clear perfection, gradual bliſs, Refining ſtill, the ſocial paſſions work. And here can I forget the generous The jail-committee, in the year 1729. band, Who, touch'd with human woe, redreſſive ſearch'd Into the horrors of the gloomy jail? Unpitied and unheard, where miſery moans; Where ſickneſs pines; where thirſt and hunger burn, And poor misfortune feels the laſh of vice. While in the land of liberty, the land Whoſe every ſtreet and public meeting glow With open freedom, little tyrants rag'd; Snatch'd the lean morſel from the ſtarving mouth; Tore from cold wintry limbs the tatter'd weed; Even robb'd them of the laſt of comforts, ſleep; The free-born BRITON to the dungeon chain'd, Or, as the luſt of cruelty prevail'd, At pleaſure mark'd him with inglorious ſtripes; And cruſh'd out lives, by ſecret barbarous ways, That for their country would have toil • d or bled. O great deſign! if executed well, With patient care, and wiſdom-temper'd zeal. Ye ſons of mercy! yet reſume the ſ • arch; Drag forth the leg • l monſters into light, Wrench from their hands Oppreſſion's iron rod, And bid the cruel feel the pains they give. Much ſtill untouch'd remains; in thi • rank age, Much is the patriot's weeding hand requir'd. The toils of law (what dark inſidious Men Have cumbrous added to perplex the truth, And lengthen ſimple juſti • e into trade) How glorious were the day that ſaw theſe broke, And every man within the reach of right By wintry famine rous'd from all the tract Of horrid mountains which the ſhining Alps, And wavy Apennine, and Pyrennees, Branch out ſtupendous into diſtant lands; Cruel as death, and hungry as the grave! Burning for blood! bony, and gaunt, and grim! Aſſembling wolves in raging troops deſcend; And, pouring o'er the country, bear along, Keen as the north wind ſweeps the gloſſy ſnow. All • s their prize. They faſten on their ſteed, Preſs him to death and pierce his mighty heart. Nor can the bull his awful front defend, Or ſhake the murdering ſavages away. Rapacious, at the mother's throat they fly, And tear the ſcreaming infant from her breaſt. The god-like face of Man avails him nought. Even beauty, force divine! at whoſe bright glance The generous lion ſtands in ſoftened gaze, Here bleeds, a hapleſs, undiſtinguiſh'd prey, But if, appris'd of the ſevere attack, The country be ſhut up, lur'd by the ſcent On churchyards drear (inhuman to relate!) The diſappointed prowlers fall, and dig, The ſhrouded body from the grave; o'er which, Mix'd with foul ſhades, and frighted ghoſts, they howl. Among thoſe hilly regions, where embrac'd In peaceful vales the happy Griſons dwell! Oft, ruſhing ſudden from the loaded cliffs, Mountains of ſnow their gathering torrents roll. From ſteep to ſteep loud thundering down they come, A wintry waſte in dire commotion all; And herds, and flocks, and travellers and ſwains, And ſometimes whole brigades of marching troops, Or hamlets ſleeping in the dead of night, Are deep beneath the ſmothering ruin whelm'd. Now, all amid the rigours of the year, In the wild depth of Winter, while without The ceaſeleſs winds blow ice, be my retreat, Between the groaning foreſt and the ſhore Beat by the boundleſs multitude of waves, A rural, ſhelter'd, ſolitary ſcene; Where ruddy fire and beaming tapers join, To chear the gloom. There ſtudious let me ſit, And hold high converſe with the MIGHTY DEAD; Sages of antient time as gods rever'd, As gods beneficent, who bleſs'd mankind With arts, and arms, and humaniz'd a world. Rous'd at th'inſpiring thought, I throw aſide The long-liv'd volume; and, deep-muſing, hail The ſacred ſhades, that ſlowly-riſing paſs Before my wondering eyes. Firſt, SOCRATES, Who, firmly good in a corrupted ſtate, Againſt the rage of tyrants, ſingle ſtood, Invincible! calm Reaſon's holy law, That Voice of GOD within th' attentive mind, Obeying, fearleſs, or in life or death: Great moral teacher! Wiſeſt of mankind! SOLON the next, who built his common-weal On Equity's wide baſe; by tender laws A lively people curbing, yet undamp'd, Preſerving ſtill that quick peculiar fire, Whence in the laurel'd field of finer arts, And of bold freedom, they unequal'd ſhone, The pride of ſmiling GREECE and humankind. LYCURGUS then, who bow'd beneath the force Of ſtricteſt diſcipline, ſeverely wiſe, All human paſſions. Following him, I ſee, As at Thermopylae he glorious fell, The firm Leonidas. DEVOTED CHIEF, who prov'd by deeds The hardeſt leſſon which the other taught. Then ARISTIDES lifts his honeſt front; Spotleſs of heart, to whom th' unflattering voice Of freedom gave the nobleſt name of Juſt; In pure majeſtic poverty rever'd; Who, even his glory to h • s country's weal Submi • ting, ſwell'd a haughty Themiſtocle • . Rival's fame. Rear'd by his care, of ſofter ray appears CIMON, ſweet-ſoul'd; whoſe genius, riſing ſtro •• Shook off the load of young debauch; abroad, The ſcourge of Perſian pride, at home, the friend Of every worth and every ſplindid art; Modeſt, and ſimple, in the pomp of wealth, Then the laſt worthies of declining GREECE, Late-call'd to glory, in unequal times, Penſive, appear. The fair Corinthian boaſt, TIMOLEON, happy temper! mild and firm, Who wept the brother, while the tyrant bled. And, equal to the beſt, the Pelopidas, and Ep • minondas. THEBAN PAIR, Whoſe virtues, in heroic concord join'd, Their country rais'd to freedom, empire, fame. He too, with whom Athenian honour ſunk, And left a maſs of ſordid lees behind, PHOCION the Good; in public life ſevere, To virtue ſtill inxorably firm; But when beneath his low illuſtrious roof, Sweet 〈…〉 happy wiſdom ſmooth'd his brow, Not friendſhip ••• ter was, nor love more kind. And he, the laſt of old LYCURGUS ſons, The generous victim to that vain attempt, To ſave a rotten ſtate, AGIS, who ſaw Even SPARTA's ſelf to ſervile avarice ſunk. The two Achaian heroes cloſe the train, ARATUS, whom a while relum'd the ſoul Of fondly-lingering liberty in GREECE: And he her darling as her lateſt hope The gallant PHILOPOEMEN who to arms Turn'd the luxurious pomp he could not cure; Or, toiling in his farm, a ſimple ſwain: Or, bold and ſkilful, thundering in the field. Of rougher front, a mighty people come! A race of heroes, in thoſe virtuous times Which knew no ſtain, ſave that with partial flame Their deareſt country they too fondly lov'd: Her better founder firſt the light of ROME, NUMA, who ſoften'd her rapacious ſons: SERVIUS the King who laid the ſolid baſe On which o'er earth the vaſt republic ſpread. Then the great conſuls venerable riſe. The Marcus Junius Brutus. PUBLIC FATHER who the private quell'd, As on the dread tribunal ſternly ſad. He, whom his thankleſs country could not loſe, CAMILLUS, only vengeful to her foes. FABRICIUS, ſcorner of all-conquering gold: And CINCINNATUS, awful from the plough. Thy Regulus. WILLING VICTIM, Carthage burſting looſe From all that pleading Nature could oppoſe, From a whole city's tears, by rigid fa • th Imperious call'd, and honour's dire command. SCIPIO, the gentle chief, humanely brave, Who ſoon the race of ſpotleſs glory ran, And, warm, in youth, to the poetic ſhade With Friendſhip and Philoſophy retir'd. TULLY, whoſe powerful eloquence a while Reſtrain'd the rapid fate of ruſhing ROME. Unconquer'd CATO, virtuous in extreme. And thou, unhappy BRUTUS, kind of heart, Whoſe ſteady arm, by awful virtue urg'd, Lifted the Roman ſteel againſt thy Friend. Thouſand beſides the tribute of a verſe Demand; but who can count the ſtars of heaven? Who ſing their influence on this lower world? Behold, who yonder comes! in ſober ſtate, Fair, mild, and ſtrong, as is a vernal ſun: 'Tis Phoebus' ſelf, or elſe the Mantuan Swain! Great HOMER too appears, of daring wing, Parent of ſong! and equal by his ſide, The BRITISH MUSE: join'd hand in hand they walk, Darkling, full up the middle ſteep to fame Nor abſent are thoſe ſhades, whoſe ſkilful touch Pathetic drew the impaſſion'd heart, and charm'd Tranſported Athens with the MORAL SCENE: Nor thoſe who, tuneful, wak'd th' inchanting LYRE. Firſt of your kind! ſociety divine! Still viſit thus my nights, for you reſerv'd, And mount my ſoaring ſoul to thoughts like yours. Silence, thou lonely power; the door be thine; See on the hallow'd hour that none intrude, Save a few choſen friends, who ſometimes deign To bleſs my humble roof, with ſenſe refin'd, Learning digeſted well, exalted faith, Unſtudy'd wit, and humour ever gay. Or from the Muſes' hill will POPE deſcend To raiſe the ſacred hour, to bid it ſmile, And with the ſocial ſpirit warm the heart: For tho' not ſweeter his own HOMER ſings, Yet is his life the more endearing ſong. Where art thou, HAMMOND? thou the darling pride, The friend and lover of the tuneful throng! Ah why dear youth, in all the blooming prime Of vernal genius, where diſcloſing faſt Each active worth, each manly virtue lay, Why wert thou raviſh'd from our hope ſo ſoon? What now avails that noble thirſt of fame, Which ſtung thy fervent breaſt! that treaſur'd ſtore Of knowledge, early gain'd? that eager zeal To ſerve thy country, glowing in the band Of YOUTHFUL PATRIOTS, who ſuſtain her name? What now, alas! that life-diffuſing charm Of ſprightly wit? that rapture for the Muſe, That heart of friendſhip, and that ſoul of joy, Which bade with ſofteſt light thy virtues ſmile? Ah! only ſhew'd, to check our fond purſuits, And teach our humble hopes that life is vain! Thus in ſome deep retirement would I paſs The winter-glooms, with friends of pliant ſoul, Or blithe, or ſolemn, as the theme inſpir'd: With them would ſearch, if Nature's boundleſs frame Was call'd, late-riſing from the void of night, Or ſprung eternal from th' ETERNAL MIND: Its life, its laws, its progreſs, and its end Hence larger proſpects of the beauteous whole Would, gradual, open on our opening minds; And each diffuſive harmony unite In full perfecti •• • o th • 〈◊〉 eye▪ Then would we try to • can the moral world, Which tho' to us it ſeems embro •• 'd, moves on In higher order; fitted, and impell'd, By WISDOM's fineſt hand, and iſſuing all In general good. The ſage hiſtoric Muſe Should next conduct us thro' the deeps of time: Shew us how empire grew, declin'd, and fell, In ſcatter'd ſtates; what makes the nations ſmile, Improves their ſoil, and gives them double ſuns; And why they pine beneath the brighteſt ſkies, In Nature's richeſt lap. As thus we talk'd, Our hearts would burn within us, would in hale That portion of divinity, that ray Of pureſt heaven, which lights the public ſoul Of patriots, and of heroes. But if doom'd, In powerleſs humble fortune, to repreſs Theſe ardent riſings of the kindling ſoul; Then, even ſuperior to ambition, we Would learn the private virtues; how to glide Thro' ſhades and plains, along the ſmootheſt ſtream Of rural life: or ſnatch'd away by hope, Thro' the dim ſpaces of futurity, With earneſt eye anticipate thoſe ſcenes Of happineſs, and wonder; where the mind, In endleſs growth and infinite aſcent, Riſes from ſtate to ſtate, and world to world. But when with theſe the ſerious thought is foil'd, We, ſhifting for relief, would play the ſhapes Of frolic fancy, and inceſſant form Thoſe rapid pictures, that aſſembled train Of fleet ideas, never join'd before, Whence lively Wit excites to gay ſurpriſe; Or folly-painting Humor, grave himſelf, Calls Laughter forth, deep-ſhaking every nerve. Meantime the village rouſes up the fire; While well atteſted, and as well believ'd, Heard ſolemn, goes the gobling-ſtory round; Till ſuperſtitious horror creeps o'er all. Or, frequent in the ſounding hall, they wake The rural gambol. Ruſtic mirth goes round; The ſimple joke that takes the ſhepherd's heart, Eaſily pleas'd; the long loud laugh, ſincere; The kiſs ſnatch'd haſty from the ſide-long maid, On purpoſe guardleſs, or pretending ſleep: The leap, the ſlap, the haul; and, ſhook to notes Of native muſic, the reſpondent dance. Thus jocound fleets with them the winter night. The city ſwarms intenſe. The public haunt, Full of each theme, and warm with mix'd dicourſe, Hums indiſtinct. The ſons of riot flow Down the looſe ſtream of falſe inchanted joy, To ſwift deſtruction. On the rankled ſoul The gaming fury falls; and in one gulph Of total ruin, honour, virtue, peace, Friends, families, and fortune headlong ſink. Up-ſpring the dance along the lighted dome, Mix'd, and evolv'd a thouſand ſprightly ways, The glittering court effuſes every pomp; The circle deepens; beam'd from gaudy robes, Tapers and ſparkling gems, and radiant eyes, A ſoft effulgence o'er the palace waves; While a gay inſect in his ſummer ſhine, The fop, light-fluttering, ſpreads his mealy wings. Dread o'er the ſcene, the ghoſt of HAMLET ſtalks; OTHELLO rages; poor MONIMIA mourns; And BELVIDERA pours her ſoul in love. Terror alarms the breaſt; the comely tear Steal o'er the cheek: or elſe the COMIC MUSE Holds to the world a picture of itſelf, And raiſes ſly the fair impartial laugh. Sometimes ſhe lifts her ſtrain, and paints the ſcenes Of beauteous life; whate'er can deck mankind, Or charm the heart, in generous A character in the Conſcious Lovers, written by Sir Richard Steel. BEVIL ſhew'd. O THOU, whoſe wiſdom, ſo • id yet refin'd, Whoſe patriot-virtues and conſummate ſkill To touch the finer ſprings that move the world, Join'd to whate'er the Graces can beſtow, And all Apollo's animating fire, Give thee, with pleaſing diginity to ſhine At once the guardian, ornament and joy Of poliſh'd life; permit the Rural Muſe, O CHESTERFIELD, to grace with thee her ſong! Ere to the ſhades again ſhe humbly flies, Indulge her fond ambition in thy train, (For every Muſe has in thy train a place) To mark thy various full-accompliſh'd mind: To mark that ſpirit, which, with Britiſh ſcorn, Rejects th' allurements of corrupted power; That elegant politeneſs, which excels, Even in the judgment of preſumptuous France, The boaſted manners of her ſhining court; That wit the vivid energy of ſenſe, The truth of Nature, which with Attic point, And kind well-temper'd ſatire, ſmoothly keen, Steals thro' the ſoul, and without pain corrects. Or riſing thence with yet a brighter flame, O let me hail thee on ſome glorious day, When to the liſtening ſenate, ardent, croud BRITANNIA's ſons to hear her pleaded cauſe. Then dreſs'd by thee, more amiably fair, Truth the ſoft robe of mild perſuaſion wears: Thou to aſſenting reaſon giveſt again Her own enlightened thoughts; call'd from the heart, Th' obedient paſſion on thy voice attend; And even reluctant party feels a while Thy gracious power: as thro' the varied maze Of eloquence, now ſmooth, now quick, now ſtrong Profound and clear, you roll the copious flood. To thy lov'd haunt return, my happy Muſe: For now, behold the joyous winter days, Froſty ſucceed; and thro' the blew ſerene, For ſight too fine, th' ethereal nitre flies; Killing infectious damps, and the ſpent air Storing afreſh w • th elemental life. Cloſe crouds the ſhining atmoſphere; and binds Our ſtrengthened bodies in its cold embrace, Conſtringent feeds, and animates our blood; Refines our ſpirits, thro' the new ſtrung nerves In ſwifter ſallies darting to the brain; Where ſits the ſoul, intenſe, collected, cool, Bright as the ſkies, and as the ſeaſon keen. All nature feels the renovating force Of Winter, only to the thoughtleſs eye In ruin ſeen. The froſt-concocted gleabe Draws in abundant vegetable ſoul, And gathers vigour for the coming year. A ſtronger glow fits on the lively cheek Of ruddy fire: and luculent along The purer river flows; their ſullen deeps, Tranſparent, open to the ſhepherds gaze, And murmur hoarſer at the fixing froſt. What art thou, froſt? and whence are thy keen ſtores Deriv'd, thou ſecret all-invading power, Whom even th' illuſive fluid cannot fly? Is not thy potent energy, unſeen Myriads of little-falts, or hook'd or ſhap'd Like double wages, and diffus'd immenſe Thro' water, earth, and aether? Hence at eve, Steam'd eager from the red horizon round, With the fierce rage of Winter deep ſuffus'd, An icy gale, oft ſhifting, o'er the pool Breathes a blue film, and in its mid career Ar •• ſts the bickering ſtream. The looſened ice, Let down the flood, and half-diſſolv'd by day, Ruſtles no more; but to the ſedgy bank Faſt grows, or gathers round the pointed ſtone, A cryſtal pavement, by the breath of heaven Cemented firm; till ſeiz'd from ſhore to ſhore, The whole impriſon'd river growls below. Loud rings the frozen earth, and hard reflects A double noiſe; while, at his evening-watch, The village dog deters the nightly thief; The heifer lows; the diſtant water-fall Swells in the breeze; and, with the haſty tread Of traveller, the hollow-ſounding plain Shakes from afar. The full aetherial round, Infinite worlds diſcloſing to the view, Shines out intenſely keen; and, all one cope Of ſtarry glitter, glows from pole to pole. From pole to pole the rigid influence falls, Thro' the ſtill night, inceſſant, heavy, ſtrong, And ſeizes Nature faſt. It freezes on; Till morn, late-riſing o'er the drooping world, Lifts her pale eye unjoyous. Then appears The various labour of the ſilent night: Prone from the dripping cave, and dumb caſcade, Whoſe idle torrents only ſeem to roar, The pendent icicle; the froſt-work fair, Where tranſient hues, and fancy'd figures riſe; Wide ſpouted o'er the hill, the frozen brook, A livid tract, cold-gleaming on the morn; The foreſt bent beneath the plumy wave; And by the froſt refin'd the whiter ſnow Incruſted hard, and ſounding to the tread Of early ſhepherd, as he penſive ſeeks His pining flock, or from the mountain-top, Pleas'd with the ſlippery ſurface, ſwift deſcends. On blithſome frolics bent, the youthful ſwains, While every work of man is laid at reſt, Fond o'er the river croud, in various ſport And revelry diſſolv'd; where mixing glad, Happieſt of all the train! the raptur'd boy Laſhes the whirling top. Or, where the Rhine Branch'd out in many a long canal extends, From every province ſwarming, void of care, Batavia ruſhes forth; and as they ſweep, On ſound • g ſkates, a thouſand different ways, In circling poiſe, ſwift as the winds, along, The then g • y land is maddened all to joy. Nor leſs the northern courts, wide o'er the ſnow, Pour a new pomp. Eager, on rapid ſleds, Their vigorous youth in bold contention wheel The long reſounding courſe. Meantime, to riſe The manly ſtrife, with highly blooming charms, Fluſh'd by the ſeaſon, Scandinavia's dames, Or Ruſſia's buxom daughters, glow around. Pure, quick, and ſportful, is the wholeſome day; But ſoon elaps'd. The horizontal ſun, Broad o'er the ſouth, hangs at his utmoſt noon: And inffectual, ſtrikes the gelid cliff: His azure gloſs the mountain ſtill maintains, Nor feels the feeble touch. Perhaps the vale Relents a while to the reflected ray; Or from the foreſt falls the cluſter'd ſnow, Myriads of gems, that in the waving gleam Gay-twinkle as they ſcatter. Thick around Thunders the ſport of thoſe, who with the gun, And dog impatient bounding at the ſhot, Worſe than the ſeaſon, deſolate the fields; And, adding to the ruins of the year, Diſtreſs the footed or the feathered game. But what is this? Our infant Winter ſinks, Diveſted of his grandeur, ſhould our eye Aſtoniſh'd ſhoot into the Frigid Zone; Where, for relentleſs months, continual night Holds o'er the glittering waſte her ſtarry reign. There, thro' the priſon of unbounded wilds, Barr'd by the hand of Nature from eſcape, Wild roams the Ruſſian exile. Nought around Strikes his ſad eye, but deſarts loſt in ſnow; And heavy loaded groves; and ſolid floods, That ſtretch, athwart the ſolitary vaſt, Their icy horror to the frozen main; And chearleſs towns far diſtant, never bleſs'd, Save when its annual courſe the caravan Bends to the golden coaſt of rich The old name for China, Cathay, With news of humankind. Yet there life glows; Yet cheriſh'd there, beneath the ſhining waſte, The furry nations harbour: tipt with jet, Fair ermines, ſpotleſs as the ſnows they preſs; Sables, of gloſſy black; and dark embrown'd, Or beauteous ſtreak'd with many a mangled hue, Thouſands beſides, the coſtly pride of courts. There, warm together preſs'd, the trooping deer Sleep on the new fallen ſnows; and ſcarce his head Rais'd o'er the heapy wreath, the branching elk Lyes ſullen in the white abyſs. The ruthleſs hunter wants nor dogs nor toils Nor with the dread of ſounding bows he drives The fearful flying race; with ponderous clubs, As weak againſt the mountain heap they puſh Their beating breaſts in vain, and piteous bray, He lays them quivering on th' enſanguin'd ſnows, And with loud ſhouts rejoicing bears them home. There thro' the piny foreſt half-abſorpt, Rough tenant of theſe ſhades, the ſhapeleſs bear, With dangling ice all horrid, ſtalks forlorn; Slow pac'd and ſourer as the ſtorms encreaſe, He makes his bed beneath th' inclement drift, And, with ſtern patience, ſcorning weak complaint, Hardens his heart againſt aſſailing want. Wide o'er the ſpacious regions of the north, That ſee Bootes urge his tardy wain, A boiſterous race, by froſty The north-weſt wind. Caurus pierc'd, Who little pleaſure know and fear no pain, Prolific ſwarm. They once relum'd the flame Of loſt mankind in poliſh'd ſlavery ſunk, Drove martial The wandering Scythian Cla • t. horde on horde with dreadful ſweep Reſiſtleſs ruſhing o'er the enfeebled ſouth, And gave the vanquiſh'd world another form. Not ſuch the ſons of Lapland; wiſely they Deſpiſe th' inſenſate barbarous trade of war; They aſk no more than ſimple Nature gives, They love their mountains and enjoy their ſtorms. No falſe deſires, no pride-created wants, Diſturb the peaceful current of their time; And thro' the reſtleſs ever-tortur'd maze Of pleaſure, or ambition, bid it rage; Their rein-deer form their riches. Theſe their tents, Their robes, their beds, and all their homely wealth Supply their wholeſome fare, and chearful cups. Obſequious at their call, the docile tribe Yield to the ſled their necks and whirl them ſwift O'er hill and dale, heap'd into one expanſe Of marbled ſnow, as far as eye can ſweep With a blue cruſt of ice unbounded glaz'd. By dancing meteors then, that ceaſeleſs ſhake A waving blaze refracted o'er the heavens, And vivid moons, and ſtars that keener play With double luſtre from the gloſſy waſte, Even in the depth of P • lar Night they find A won'drous day: enough to light the chaſe, Or guide their daring ſteps to Finland fairs. Wiſh'd Spring returns; and from the hazy ſouth. While dim Aurora ſlowly moves before, The welcome ſun, juſt verging up at firſt, By ſmall degrees extends the ſwelling curve! Till ſeen at laſt for gay rejoicing months, Still round and round, his ſpiral courſe he winds, And as he nearly dips his flaming orb, Wheels up again, and re-aſcends the ſky. In what glad ſeaſon, from the lakes and floods, Where pure M. de Ma • pertuis ▪ in his book on the F • gure of the Earth, after having deſcribed the beautiful Lake and Mountain of Niemi Lapland, ſays,— From this h • ight we had opportunity ſeveral times to ſee thoſe vapours riſe from the lake which the people of the country call Haltio • , and which they deem to be the guardian ſpirits of the mountains. We had been frighted with ſtories of bears that haunted this place, but ſaw none. It ſeemed rather a place of reſort for Fairies and G • nii, than bears. Niemi's fairy mountains riſe, And fring'd with roſes, The ſame Author obſerves— I was ſurpriſed to ſee upon the banks of this river (the Tenglio) roſes of as lively a red a • any that are in our gardens. Tenglio rolls his ſtream, They draw the copious fry. With theſe, at eve, They, chearful-loaded, to their tents repair; Where, all day long in uſeful cares employed, Their kind unblemiſh'd wives the fire prepare. Thrice happy race! by poverty ſecur'd From legal plunder and rapacious power: In whom fell intereſt never yet has ſown▪ The ſeeds of vice: whoſe ſpotleſs ſwains ne'er knew Injurious deed, nor, blaſted by the breath Of faithleſs love, their blooming daughters woe. Still preſſing on, beyond • orn • a's lake, And Hecla, flaming through a waſte of ſnow, And fartheſt Gre •• land, to the pole itſelf, Where, failing gradual, life 〈◊〉 length goes out, The Muſe expands her ſolitary flight; And, hovering o'er the wild ſtupendous ſcene, Beholds new ſeas beneath The other hemiſphere another ſky, Thron'd in his palace of coerulean ice, Here WINTER holds his unrejoicing court; And thro' his airy hall the loud miſrule Of driving tempeſt is for ever heard; Here the grim tyrant meditates his wrath; Here arms his winds with all-ſubduing froſt; Moulds his fierce hail, and treaſures up his ſnows, With which he now oppreſſes half the globe. Thence winding eaſtward to the Tartar's coaſt, She ſweeps the howling margin of the main; Where undiſſolving, from the firſt of time, Snows ſwell on ſnows amazing to the ſky; And icy mountains high on mountains pil'd, Seem to the ſhivering ſailor from afar, Shapeleſs and white, an atmoſphere of clouds. Projected huge, and horrid, o'er the ſurge, Alps frown on Alps; or ruſhing hideous down, As if old Chaos was again return'd, Wide-rend the deep, and ſhake the ſolid pole. Ocean • tſelf no longer can reſiſt The binding fury; but, in all its rage Of tempeſt taken by the boundleſs froſt, Is many a fathom to the bottom chain'd, And bid to roar no more: a bleak expanſe, Shagg'd o'er with wavy rocks, chearleſs and void Of every life, that from the dreary months Flies conſcious ſouthward. Miſerable they! Who, here entangled in the gath'ring ice, 〈…〉 look of the deſcending ſun; 〈◊〉 , full of death, and fierce with tenfold froſt, The long long night, incumbent o'er their heads, Falls horrible. Such was the Sir Hugh Willoughby, ſent by Queen Elizabeth to diſcover the north-eaſt paſſage. BRITON's ſate, As with firſt prow (what have not BRITONS dar'd!) He for the paſſage ſought, attempted ſince So much in vain, and ſeeming to be ſhut By jealous Nature with eternal bars. In theſe fell regions, in Arzina caught, And to the ſtony deep his idle ſhip Immediate ſeal'd, he with his hapleſs crew, Each full exerted at his ſeveral taſk, Froze into ſtatues; to the cordage glu'd The ſailor, and the pilot to the helm. Hard by theſe ſhores, where ſcarce his freezing ſtream Rolls the wild Oby, live the laſt of Men; And half-enliven'd by the diſtant ſun That rears and ripens Man, as well as plants, Here Human Nature wears its rudeſt form. Deep from the piercing ſeaſon ſunk in caves, Here by dull fires, and with unjoyous cheer, They waſte the tedious gloom. Immers'd in furs, Doze the groſs race Nor ſprightly jeſt, nor ſong, Nor tenderneſs they know; nor aught of life, Beyond the kindred bears that ſtalk without. Till morn at length, her roſes drooping all, Sheds a long twilight brightening o'er their fields, And calls the quiver'd ſavage to the chace. What cannot active government perform, New-moulding Man! Wide-ſtretching from theſe ſhores A people ſavage from remoteſt time, A huge neglected empire ONE VAST MIND, By HEAVEN inſpir'd, from Gothic darkneſs call'd. Immortal PETER! firſt of monarchs! He His ſtu •• orn country tam'd, her rocks, her fens, Her floods, her ſeas, her ill-ſubmitting ſons; And while the fierce Barbarian he ſubdu'd, To more exalted ſoul he rais'd the Man. Ye ſhades of ancient heroes, ye who toil'd Thro' long ſucceſſive ages to build up A labouring plan of ſtate, behold at once The wonder done! behold the matchleſs prince! Who left his native throne, where reign'd till then A mighty ſhadow of unreal power; Who greatly ſpurn'd the flothful pomp of courts; And roaming every land, in every port His ſceptre laid aſide, with glorious hand Unwearied plying the mechanic tool, Gather'd the ſeeds of trade, of uſeful arts, Of civil wiſdom, and of martial ſkill. Charg'd with the ſtores of Europe home he goes! Then cities riſe amid th' illumin'd waſte; O'er joyleſs deſarts ſmiles the rural reign; Far-diſtant flood to flood is ſocial join'd; Th' aſtoniſh'd Euxine hears the B ••• ic roar; Proud navies ride on ſeas that never foam'd With daring keel before; and armies ſtretch Each way their dazzling files, repreſſing here The frantic Alexander of the north, And awing there ſtern Othman's ſhrinking ſons. Sloth flies the land, and Ignorance, and Vice, Of old diſhonour proud: it glows arou Taught by the ROYAL HAND that rous'd the whole, One ſcene of arts, of arms, of riſing trade: For what his wiſdom plann'd, and power enforc'd, More potent ſtill, his great example ſhew'd. Muttering, the winds at eve, with blunted point, Blow, hollow-bluſtering from the ſouth. Subdu'd. The froſt reſolves into a trickling thaw. Spotted the mountains ſhine; looſe ſleet deſcends, And floods the country round. The rivers ſwell, Of bonds impatient. Sudden from the hills, O'er rocks and woods, in broad brown cataracts, A thouſand ſnow-fed torrents ſhoot at once; And, where they ruſh, the wide reſounding plain Is leſt one ſlimy waſte. Thoſe ſullen ſeas, That waſh'd th' ungenial pole, will reſt no more Beneath the ſhackles of the mighty north; But, rouſing all their waves, reſiſtleſs heave. And hark! the lengthening roar continuous runs Athwart the rifted deep: at once it burſts, And piles a thouſand mountains to the clouds. Ill fares the bark with trembling wretches charg'd, That, toſs'd amid the floating fragments, moors Beneath the ſhelter of an icy iſle, While night o'erwhelms the ſea, and horror looks More horrible. Can human force endure Th' aſſembled miſchiefs that beſiege them round? Heart-gnawing hunger, fainting wearineſs, The roar of winds and waves, the cruſh of ice, Now ceaſing, now renew'd with louder rage. And in dire echoes bellowing round the main. More to embroil the deep, Leviathan And his unwieldy train, in dreadful ſport, Tempeſt the looſen'd brine, while thro' the gloom, Far from the bleak inhoſpitable ſhore, Loading the winds, is heard the hungry howl Of famiſh'd monſters, there awaiting wrecks. Yet PROVIDENCE, that ever-waking Eye, Looks down with pity on the feeble toil Of mortals loſt to hope, and lights them ſafe, Thro' all this dreary labyrinth of ſate. 'Tis done! dread WINTER ſpreads his lateſt glooms And reigns tremendous o'er the conquer'd year, How dead the vegetable kingdoms lyes! How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends His deſolate domain. Behold, fond Man! See here thy pictur'd life; paſs ſome few years, Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent ſtrength, Thy ſober Autumn fading into age, And pale concluding Winter comes at laſt, And ſhuts the ſcene. Ah! whither now are fled Thoſe dreams of greatneſs? thoſe unſolid hopes Of happineſs? thoſe longings after fame? Thoſe reſtleſs cares? thoſe buſy buſtling days? Thoſe gay ſpent feſtive nights? thoſe veering thoughts Loſt between good and ill, that ſhar'd thy life? All now are vaniſh'd! VIRTUE ſole ſurvives, Immortal, never-failing friend of Man, His guide to happineſs on high. And ſee! 'Tis come, the glorious morn! the ſecond birth Of heaven, and earth! awakening Nature hears The new-creating word, and ſtarts to life, In every heightened form, from pain and death For ever free. The great eternal ſcheme, Involving all, and in a perfect whole Uniting▪ as the proſpect wider ſpreads, To reaſon's eye refin'd clears up apace. Ye vainly wiſe! ye blind preſumptuous! now, Confounded in the duſt, adore that POWER, And WISDOM oft arraign'd: ſee now the cauſe, Why unaſſuming worth in ſecret liv'd, And dy'd, neglected: why the good man's ſhare In life was gall and bitterneſs of ſoul: Why the lone widow and her orphans pin'd In ſtarving ſolitude; while Luxury, In palaces, lay ſtraining her low thought, To form unreal wants: why heaven-born Truth, And Moderation fair, wore the red marks Of ſuperſtition's ſcourge: why licens'd Pain, That cruel ſpoiler, that emboſom'd foe, Imbittered all our bliſs. Ye good diſtreſs'd! Ye noble few! who here unbending ſtand Beneath life's preſſure, yet bear up a while, And what your bounded view, which only ſaw A little part, deem'd Evil, is no more: The ſtorms of WINTRY TIME will quickly paſs, And one unbounded SPRING incircle all.

A HYMN. THeſe, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, theſe Are but the varied GOD. The rolling year Is full of thee. Forth in the pleaſing Spring THY beauty walks, THY tenderneſs and love. Wide fluſh the fields; the ſoften • ng air is balm; Echo the mountains round; the foreſt ſmiles; And every ſenſe, and every heart is joy. Then comes THY glory in the ſummer-months, With light and heat refulgent. Then THY ſun Shoots full perfection thro' the ſwelling year: And oft THY voice in dreadful thunder ſpeaks; And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves, in hollow-whiſpering gales. THY bounty ſhines in Autumn unconfin'd, And ſpreads a common feaſt for all that lives. In Winter awful THOU? with clouds and ſtorms Around THEE thrown, tempeſt o'er tempeſt roll'd, Majeſtic darkneſs! on the whirlwind's wing, Riding ſublime, THOU b • d'ſt the world adore, And humbleſt Nature with thy northern Blaſt. MYSTER • OUS round! what ſkill, what ſorce divine, Deep felt, in theſe appear! a ſimple train, Yet ſo delightful mix'd, with ſuch kind art, Such beauty and beneficence combin'd; Shade, unperceiv'd, ſo ſoftening into ſhade; And all ſo forming an harmonious whole; That▪ as they ſtill ſucceed, they raviſh ſtill. But •• nd'ring oft, with brute unconſcious Gaze, Ma •• marks not THEE, marks not the mighty Hand That, ever-buſy, wheels the ſilent Spheres; Works in the ſecret Deeps; ſhoots, ſteaming, thence The fair Profuſion that o'erſpreads the Spring: Flings from the Sun direct the flaming Day; Feeds every Creature; hurls the Tempeſt forth; And, as on Earth this grateful Change revolves. With Tranſport touches all the Springs of Life. NATURE, attend! join every living Soul, Beneath the ſpacious Temple of the Sky, In Adoration join; and, ardent, raiſe One general Song! To HIM, ye vocal Gales, • reathe ſoft, whoſe SPIRIT in your Freſhneſs breathes: Oh talk of HIM in ſolitary Glooms! Where, o'er the Rock, the ſcarcely-waving Pine Fills the brown Shade with a religious Awe. And ye, Whoſe bolder Note is heard afar, Who ſhakes th' aſtoniſh'd World, lift high to Heaven Th' impetuous Song, and ſay from whom you rage. HIS Praiſe, ye Brooks, attune, ye trembling Rills; And let me catch it as I muſe along. Ye headlong Torrents, rapid, and profound; Ye ſofter Floods, that lead the humid Maze Along the Vale; and thou, majeſtic Train, A ſecret World of Wonders in thyſelf, Sound HIS ſtupendous Praiſe; whoſe greater Voice Or bids you roar, or bids your Roarings fall. Soft-roll your In • enſe, Herbs, and Fruits, and Flowers, In mingled clouds to HIM; whoſe Sun exalts, Whoſe Breath perfumes you, and whoſe Pencil paints. Ye Foreſts bend, ye Harveſts wave, to HIM; Breathe your ſtill Song into the Reaper's Heart, As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth aſleep Unconſcious lyes, effuſe your mildeſt beams, Ye conſtellations, while your angels ſtrike, Amid the ſpangled ſky, the ſilver lyre. Great ſource of day! beſt image here below Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide, From world to world, the vital ocean round, On Nature write with every beam HIS praiſe. The thunder rolls: be huſh'd the proſtrate world; While cloud to cloud returns the ſolemn hymn. Bleat out afreſh, ye hills: ye moſſy rocks, Retain the ſound: the broad reſponſive • owe, Ye valleys raiſe; for the GREAT SHEPHERD reigns And his unſuffering kingdom yet will come. Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundleſs ſong Burſt from the groves! and when the reſtleſs day, Expiring, lays the warbling world aſleep, Sweeteſt of birds! ſweet Philomela, charm The liſt'ning ſhades, and teach the night HIS praiſe. Ye chief, for whom the whole creation ſmiles, At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all, Crown the great hymn! in ſwarming cities vaſt, Aſſembled men, to the deep organ join The long reſounding voice, oft breaking clear, At ſolemn pauſes, through the ſwelling baſe; And as each mingling flame encreaſes each, In one united ardor riſe to heaven. Or if you rather chuſe the rural ſhade, And find a fane in every ſacred grove; There let the ſhepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, The prompting ſeraph, and the poet's lyre, Still ſing the GOD OF SEASONS, as they roll. For me, when I forget the darling theme, Whether the bloſſom blows, the ſummer-ray Ruſſets the plain, inſpiring Autumn gleams; Or Winter riſe in the blakening eaſt; Be my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more, And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat! Should fate command me to the fartheſt verge Of the green earth, to diſtant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to Song; where firſt the ſun Gilds Indian mountains, or his ſetting beam Flames on th' Atlantic iſles: 'tis nought to me: Since GOD is ever preſent, ever felt, In the void waſte as in the city full; And where HE vital breathes, there muſt be joy. When even at laſt the ſolemn hour ſhall come, And wing my myſtic flight to future worlds, I chearful will obey: there, with new powers, Will riſing wonders ſing: I cannot go Where UNIVERSAL Love not ſmiles around, Suſtaining all yon orbs and all their ſons; From ſeeming evil ſtill educing good And better thence again, and better ſtill, In infinite progreſſion. But I loſe Myſelf in HIM, in LIGHT INEFFABLE! Come then, expreſſive ſilence, muſe HIS praiſe.

BRITANNIA. A POEM. — Et tantas audetis t • llere moles? Quos ego—ſed m • tos praeſtat componere fluctus. Poſt mihi non ſimili poena commiſſa laetis. Maturate fugam, regique ha • c dicite veſtro: Non illi imperium pelagi, ſaevumque trid • ntem, Sed mihi ſorte datum. — VIRGIL. AS on the ſea-beat Shore Britannia ſet▪ Of her degenerate Sons the faded Fame, Deep in her anxious Heart, revolving ſad: Bare was her throbbing Boſom to the Gale, That hoarſe, and hollow, from the bleak Surge blew; Looſe flow'd her Treſſes; rent her azure Robe; Hung o'er the Deep, from her majeſtic Brow She tore the Laurel, and ſhe tore the • ay. Nor ceas'd the copious Grief to bathe her Cheek; Nor ceas'd her Sobs to murmur to the Main. Peace diſcontented nigh, departing, ſtretch'd Her Dove-like Wings. And War, tho' greatly rous'd, Yet mourn'd his fetter'd hands. While thus the Queen Of Nations ſpoke; and what ſhe ſaid the Muſe Recorded, faithful, in unbidden Verſe. EVEN not yon Sail, that, from the ſky-mixt Wave, Dawns on the Sight, and wafts the ROYAL YOUTH Frederic Prince of Wales, then lately arrived.. A Freight of future Glory to my ſhore; Even not the flattering View of golden Days, And riſing Periods yet of bright Renown, Beneath the Parents, and their endleſs Line Thro' late revolting Time, can ſooth my Rage; While, unchaſtis'd, the inſulting Spaniard dares Infeſt the trading Flood, full of vain War, Deſpiſe my Navies, and my Merchants ſeize; As, truſting to falſe Peace, they fearleſs roam The World of Waters wild, made, by the Toil, And liberal Blood of glorious Ages, mine: Nor burſts my ſleeping Thunder on their Head. Whence this unwonted Patience? this weak Doubt? This tame beſeeching of rejected Peace? This meek Forbearance? this unnative Fear, To generous Britons never known before? And ſail'd my Fleets for this; on Indian Tides To float, unactive, with the veering Winds? The Mockery of War! while hot Diſeaſe, And Sloth diſtemper'd, ſwept off burning Crouds, For Action ardent; and amid the Deep, Inglorious, ſunk them in a watry Grave. There now they lie beneath the rolling Flood, Far from their Friends, and Country unaveng'd? And back the drooping War-ſhip comes again, Diſpirited, and thin; her Sons aſham'd Thus idly to review their native Shore; With not one Glory ſparkling in their Eye, One Triumph in their Tongue. A Paſſenger, The violated Merchant comes along; That far-ſought Wealth, for which the noxious Gale He drew, and ſweat beneath Equator Suns, By lawleſs Force detain'd; a Force that ſoon Would melt away, and ev'ry Spoil reſign, Were once the Britiſh Lion heard to roar. Whence is it that the proud Iberian thus, In their own well-aſſerted Element, Dares rouze to Wrath the Maſters of the Main? Who told him, that the big incumbent War Would not, ere this, have roll'd his trembling Ports In ſmoky Ruin? and his guilty Stores, Won by the Ravage of a butcher'd World, Yet unaton'd, ſunk in the ſwallowing Deep, Or led the glittering Prize into the Thames? THERE was a time (Oh let my languid Sons Reſume their Spirit at the rouzing Thought!) When all the Pride of Spain, in one dread Fleet, Swell'd o'er the lab'ring Surge; like a whole Heaven Of Clouds, wide-roll'd before the boundleſs Breeze▪ Gaily the ſplendid Armament along Exultant plough'd, reflecting a red Gleam, As ſunk the Sun, o'er all the flaming Vaſt; Tall, gorgeous, and elate; drunk with the Dream Of eaſy Conqueſt; while their bloated War, Stretch'd out from Sky to Sky, the gather'd Force Of Ages held in its capacious Womb. But ſoon, regardleſs of the cumbrous Pomp, My dauntleſs Britons came, a gloomy few, With Tempeſt black, the goodly Scene deform'd, And laid their Glory waſte. The Bolts of Fate Reſiſtleſs thunder'd thro' their yielding Sides; Fierce o'er their Beauty blaz'd the lurid Flame; And ſeiz'd in horrid Graſp, or ſhatter'd wide, Amid the mighty Waters, deep they ſunk. Then too from ev'ry Promontory chill, Rank Fen, and Cavern where the wild Wave works, I ſwept confederate Winds, and ſwell'd a Storm. Round the glad Iſle, ſnatch'd by the vengeful Blaſt, The ſcatter'd Remnants drove; on the blind Shelve, And pointed Rock, that marks th' indented Shore, Relentleſs daſh'd, where loud the Northern Main Howls thro' the fractur'd Caledonian Iſles. Such were the Dawnings of my wa • ry Reign; But ſince bow vaſt it grew, how abſolute, Even in thoſe troubled Times, when dreadful Blake Aw'd angry Nations with the Britiſh Name, Let every humbled State, let Europe ſay, Suſtain'd, and ballanc'd, by my naval Arm. Ah what muſt theſe im • ortal Spirits think Of your poor Shifts? Thoſe, for their Country's good, Who fac'd the blackeſt Danger, knew no Fear, No mean Submiſſion, but commanded Peace. Ah how with Indignation muſt they burn? (If aught, but Joy, can touch etherial Breaſts) With Shame? with Grief? to ſee their feeble Sons Shrink from that Empire o'er the conquer'd Seas, For which their Wiſdom plan'd, their Councils glow'd, And their Veins bled thro' many a toiling Age. OH firſt of human Bleſſings! and ſupreme! Fair Peace! how lovely, how delightful Thou! By whoſe wide Tie, the kindred Sons of Men, Like Brothers live, in Amity combin'd. And unſuſpicious Faith; while honeſt Toil Gives every Joy, and to thoſe Joys a Right, Which idle, barbarous Rapine but uſurps. Pure is thy Reign; when, unaccurs'd by Blood, Nought, ſave the Sweetneſs of indulgent Showers, Trickling diſtils into the vernant Gl • be; Inſtead of mangled Carcaſſes, ſad-ſcene, When the blythe ſheaves lie ſcatter'd o'er the Field; When only ſhining Shares, the crooked Knife, And Hooks imprint the vegetable Wound; When the Land bluſhes with the Roſe alone, The falling Fruitage and the bleeding Vine. Oh, Peace! thou ſource and ſoul of ſocial Life; Beneath whoſe calm, inſpiring Influence, Science his Views enlarges, Art refines, And ſwelling Commerce opens all her Ports; Bleſt be the Man divine who gives us Thee! Who bids his Trumpet huſh his horrid Clang, Nor blow the giddy Nations into Rage; Who ſheaths the murderous Blade; the deadly Gun Into the well-pil'd Armory returns; And, every Vigour from the Work of Death, To grateful Induſtry converting, makes The Country flouriſh, and the City ſmile. Unviolated, him the Virgin ſings; And him the ſmiling Mother to her Train. Of him the Shepherd, in the peaceful Dale, Chaunts; and, the Treaſures of his Labour ſure, The Huſbandman of him, as at the Plough, Or Team, he toils. With him the Sailor ſooths, Beneath the trembling Moon, the Midnight Wave; And the full City, warm from Street to Street, And Shop to Shop, reſponſive, rings of him. Nor joys one Land alone; his Praiſe extends Far as the Sun rolls his diffuſive Day; Far as the Breeze can bear the Gifts of Peace, Till all the happy Nations catch the Song. WHAT would not Peace! the Patriot bear for thee What painful Patience? What inceſſant Care? What mixt Anxiety? What ſleepleſs Toil? Even from the Raſh protected what Reproach? For he thy Value knows; thy Friendſhip he To human Nature: but the better thou, The richer of Delight, ſometimes the more Inevitable War; when Ruffian Force Awakes the Fury of an injur'd State. Even the good patient Man, whom Reaſon rules; Rouz'd by bold Inſult, and injurious Rage, With ſharp, and ſudden Check, th' aſtoniſh'd Sons Of Violence confounds; firm as his Cauſe, His bolder Heart; in awful Juſtice clad; His Eyes effulging a peculiar Fire; And, as he charges thro' the proſtrate War, His keen Arm teaches faithleſs Men no more To dare the ſacred Vengeance of the Juſt. AND what, my thoughtleſs Sons, ſhould fire you more, Than when your well-earn'd Empire of the Deep The leaſt beginning Injury receives? What better Cauſe can call your Lightning forth? Your thunder wake? Your deareſt Life demand? What better Cauſe, than when your Country ſees The ſly Deſtruction at her Vitals aim'd? For oh, it much imports you, 'tis your all, To keep your Trade entire, entire the Force, And honour of your Fleets; o'er that to watch Even with a Hand ſevere, and jealous Eye. In Intercourſe be gentle, generous, juſt, By Wiſdom poliſh'd, and of Manners fair; But on the Sea be terrible; untam'd, Unconquerable ſtill: let none eſcape, Who ſhall but aim to touch your Glory there. Is there the Man, into the Lion's Den Who da • es intrude, to ſnatch his young away? And is a Briton ſeiz'd? and ſeiz'd beneath The ſlumbering Terrors of a Britiſh Fleet? Then ardent riſe! oh great in Vengeance riſe; O'erturn the Proud, teach Rapine to reſtore: And as you ride ſublimely round the World, Make every Veſſel ſtoop, make every State At once their Welfare and their Duty know. This • s your Glory; this your Wiſdom; this The native Power for which you were deſign'd By Fate, when Fate deſign'd the firmeſt State That e'er was ſeated on the ſubject Sea; A State, alone, where Liberty ſhould live, In theſe late Times, this Evening of Mankind, When A • hens, Rome and Carthage are no more, The World almoſt in ſlaviſh ſloth diſſolv'd. For this theſe Rocks around your Coaſt were thrown; For this your Oaks, peculiar harden'd, ſhoot Strong into ſturdy Growth; for this your Hearts Swell with a ſullen Courage, growing ſtill As Danger grows; and Strength, and Toil for this Are liberal pour'd o'er all the fervent Land. Then cheriſh this, this unexpenſive Power, Undangerous to the Public, ever prompt, By laviſh Nature thruſt into your Hand; And, unencumber'd with the Bulk immenſe Of Conqueſt, whence huge Empires roſe, and ſell Self-cruſh'd. Extend your Reign from ſhore to ſhore. Where-e'er the Wind your high Beheſts can blow, And fix it deep on this eternal Baſe. For ſhould the ſliding Fabric once give Way, Soon ſlacken'd quite and paſt Recovery broke, It gathers Ruin as it it rolls along▪ Steep-ruſhing down to that devouring Gulph, Where many a mighty Empire bury'd lyes. And ſhould the big redundant Flood of Trade, In which ten thouſand thouſand Labours join Their ſeveral Currents, till the boundleſs Tide Rolls in a radiant Deluge o'er the Land; Should this bright Stream, the leaſt inflected, point Its Courſe another Way, o'er other Lands The various Treaſures would reſiſtleſs pour, Ne'er to be won again; its ancient Tract Left a vile Channel, deſolate and dead, With all around a miſerable Waſte. Not Egypt, were her better Heaven, the Nile Turn'd in the Pr • de of flow; when o'er his Rocks, And roaring Cataracts, beyond the Reach Of dizzy Viſion pil'd, in one wide Flaſh An Ethiopian Deluge foams again; (Whence wondering Fable trac'd him from the Sky) Even not that Prime of Earth where Harveſts croud On untill'd Harveſts, all the teeming Year, If of the fat o'erflowing Culture robb'd, Were then a more uncomfortable Wild, Steril, and void; than of her Trade depriv'd, Britons, your boaſted Iſle: her Princes ſunk; Her high-built Honour moulder'd to the Duſt; Unnerv'd her Force; her Spirit vaniſh'd quite; With rapid Wing her R • ches fled away; Her unfrequented Ports alone the Sign Of what ſhe was; her Merchants ſcatter'd wide; Her hollow ſhops ſhut up; and in her ſtreets, Her Fields, Woods, Markets, Villages and Roads, The chearful Voice of Labour heard no more. OH let not then waſte Luxury impair That manly Soul of Toil which ſtrings your Nerves, And your own proper Happineſs creates! Oh let not the ſoft penetrating Plague Creep on the free-born Mind! and working there, With the ſharp Tooth of many a new-form'd Want, Endleſs, and idle all, eat out the Heart Of Liberty; the high Conception blaſt; The noble Sentiment, th' impatient Scorn Of baſe Subject • on, and the ſwelling Wiſh For general Good, eraſing from the Mind: While nought ſave narrow Selfiſhneſs ſucceeds, And low Deſign, the ſneaking Paſſions all Let looſe, and reigning in the rankled Breaſt. Induc'd at laſt by ſcarce-perceiv'd Degrees, Sapping the very Frame of Government, And Life, a total Diſſolution • omes; Sloth, Ignorance, Dejection, Flattery, Fear, Oppreſſion raging o'er the Waſte he makes; The human Being almoſt quite extinct; And the whole State in broad Corruption ſinks, Oh ſhun that Gulph, that gaping Ruin ſhun! And countleſs Ages roll it far away From you, ye heaven-belov'd! May Liberty! The Light of Life! the Sun of human kind! Whence Heroes, Bards, and Patriots borrow Flame, Even where the keen depreſſive North deſcend • ▪ Still ſpread, exalt, and actuate your Powers! While ſlaviſh ſouthern Climates beam in vain. And may a public Spirit from the Throne, Where every Virtue ſits, go copious forth Live o'er the Land! the finer Arts inſpire; Make thoughtful Science raiſe his penſive Head, Blow the freſh Bay, bid Induſtry rejoice, And the rough Sons of loweſt Labour ſmile. As when pro • u • e of Spring, the looſen'd Weſt Lifts up the pining Year and balmy breathes You • h, Life and Love, and Beauty o'er the World. BUT haſte we from theſe melancholy Shores, Nor to deaf Winds, and Waves, our fruitleſs Plaint Pour weak; the Country claims our active Aid! That let us roam; and where we find a ſpark Of public Virtue, blow it into Flame. Lo! now my Sons, the Sons of Freedom! meet In awful Senate; thither let us fly; Burn in the Patriot's thought, flow from his Tongue In fearleſs Truth; myſelf transform'd preſide, And ſhed the Spirit of Britannia round. THIS ſaid; her fleeting Form and airy Train, Sunk in the Gale; and nought but ragged Rocks Ruſh'd on the broken Eye, and nought was heard But the rough Cadence of the daſhing Wave.

ODE for MUSIC ON ST. CECILIA's DAY. I. DESCEND, ye Nine! deſcend and ſing; The breathing inſtruments inſpire, Wake into voice each ſilent ſtring, And ſweep the ſounding lyre! In a ſadly-pleaſing ſtrain Let the warbling lute complain: Let the loud trumpet ſound 'Till the roofs all around The ſhrill echoes rebound: While in more lengthen'd notes and ſlow, The deep, majeſtic, ſolemn organs blow. Hark! the numbers ſoft and clear Gently ſteal upon the ear; Now louder, and yet louder riſe, And fill with ſpreading ſounds the ſkies; Exulting in triumph now ſwell the bold notes, In broken air, trembling, the wild muſic floats; 'Till, by degrees, remote and ſmall, The ſtr •• n • decay, And melt away, In a dying, dying fall. II. By Muſic, minds an equal temper know, Nor ſwell too high, nor ſink too low. If in the breaſt tumultuous joys ariſe, Muſic her ſoft aſſuaſive voice applies; Or, when the ſoul is preſs'd with cares, Exalts her in enlivening airs. Warriors ſhe fires with animated ſounds; Pours b • lm into the bleeding lover's wounds: Melancholy lifts her head, Morpheus rouzes from his bed, Sloth unfolds his arms and wakes, Liſt'ning Envy drops her ſnakes; Inteſtine war no more our Paſſions wage, And giddy Factions hear away their rage. III But when our Country's cauſe provokes to Arms, How mar • ial muſic ev'ry boſom warms! So when the firſt bold veſſel dar'd the ſeas, High on the ſtern the Thracian rais'd his ſtrain, Wh •• e Argo ſaw her kindred trees De • c •• d from Pelion to the main. Tranſported demi-gods ſtoo • round, And men grew heroes at the ſound, Enflam'd with glory's charms: Each chief his ſev'nfold ſhield diſplay'd, And half unſheath'd the ſhining blade: And ſeas, and rocks, and ſkies rebound To arms, to arms, to arms! IV. But when thro' all th' infernal bounds, Which flaming Phlegeton ſurrounds, Love, ſtrong as Death, the Poet led To the pale nations of the dead, What ſounds were heard, What ſcenes appear'd, O'er all the dreary coaſts! Dreadful gleams, Diſmal ſcreams, Fires that glow, Shrieks of woe, Sullen moans Hollow groans, And cries of tortur'd ghoſts! But hark! he ſtrikes the golden lyre; And ſee! the tortur'd ghoſts reſpire, See, ſhady forms advance! Thy ſtone, O Siſyphus, ſtands ſtill, Ixion reſts upon his wheel, And the pale ſpectres dance! The Furies ſink upon their iron beds, And ſnakes uncurl'd hang liſt'ning round their heads. V. By the ſtreams that ever flow, By the fragran' winds that blow O'er th' Elyſ • an flow'rs; By thoſe happy ſouls who dwell In yellow me • d of Aſphodel, Or Amaranthine bowers; By the hero's armed ſhades, Glitt'ring thro' the gloomy glades; By the youths that dy'd for love, Wand'ring in the myrtle grove, Reſtore, reſtore Euridice to life: Oh take the huſband, or return the wife! He ſung, and hell conſented To hear the Poet's prayer; Stern Proſerpine relented, And gave him back the fair. Thus ſong could prevail O'er death, and o'er Hell, A conqueſt how hard and how glorious? Tho' fate had faſt bound her, With Styx nine times round her, Yet muſic and love were victorious. VI. But ſoon, too ſoon, the lover turns his eyes: Again ſhe falls, again ſhe dies, ſhe dies! How wilt thou now the fatal ſiſters move! No crime was thine, if 'tis no crime to love. Now under hanging mountains, Beſide the falls of fountains Or where the Hebrus wanders, Rolling in meanders, All alone, Unheard, unknown, He makes his moan: And calls her ghoſt, For ever, ever loſt! Now with Furies ſurrounded, Deſpairing, confounded, He trembles, he glows, Amidſt Rhodopoe's ſnows: See, wild as the winds o'er the deſert he flies; Hark! Haemus reſounds with the Bacchanal's cries— Ah ſee! he dies! Yet ev'n in death Euridice he ſung, Euridice ſtill trembled on his tongue, Euridice the woods, Euridice the floods. Euridice the rocks, and hollow mountains rung. VII. Muſic the fierceſt grief can charm, And ſate's ſevereſt rage diſarm: Muſic can ſoften pain to eaſe, And make deſpair and madneſs pleaſe: Our joys below it can improve, And antedate the bliſs above. This the divine Cecilia ſound And to her Maker's praiſe confin'd the ſound, When the full organ joins the tuneful quire, Th'immortal pow'rs incline their ear; Borne on the ſwelling notes our ſou • s aſpire, While ſolemn a • s improve the ſacred fire, And angels lean from heav'n to hear. Of Orpheus n • w no more let Poets tell, To bright Cecilia greater pow'r is giv • n; His numbers rais'd a ſhade from hell, Her's lift the ſoul to heav'n.

ALEXANDER's FEAST. OR, THE POWER of MUSICK, An ODE. In Honour of St. Cecilia's Day. By Mr. DRYDEN. I. 'TWAS at the Royal Feaſt, for Perſia won, By Philip's Warlike Son: Aloft in awful State, The God-like Hero ſate On his imperial Throne: His valiant Peers were plac'd around; Their Brows with Roſes and with Myrtles bound. (So ſhould Deſert in Arms be crown'd:) The lovely Thais by his Side, Sate like a blooming Eaſtern Bride In Flow'r of Youth and Beauty's Pride. Happy, happy, happy Pair! None but the Brave, None but the Brave, None but the Brave deſerves the Fair. CHORUS. Happy, happy, happy Pair! None but the Brave, None but the Brave, None but the Brave deſerves the Fair. II. Timotheus plac'd on high, Amid the tuneful Quire, With flying Fingers touch'd the Lyre: The trembling Notes aſcend the Sky, And Heav'nly Joys inſpire. The Song began from Jove; Who left his bliſsful Seats above, (Such is the Pow'r of mighty Love.) A Dragon's fiery Form bely'd the God: Sublime on radiant Spires He rode, When He to fair Olympia preſs'd: And while He ſought her ſnowy Breaſt, Then, round her ſlender Waiſt he curl'd, And ſt • mp'd an Image of himſelf, a Sov'reign of the World. The liſt'ning Crowd admi • e the lofty Sound. A preſent Deity, they ſhout around: A preſent Deity the vaulted Roofs rebound: With raviſh'd Ears The Monarch hears, Aſſumes the God, Affects to nod, And ſeems to ſhake the Spheres. CHORUS. With raviſh'd Ears The Monarch hears, Aſſumes the God, Affects to nod, And ſeems to ſhake the Spheres. III. The Pr • iſ • of Ba ••• us then • he ſweet Muſ • cian ſung; O • 〈…〉 : The jolly God in Triumph comes; Sound the Trumpets; beat the Drums; Fluſh'd with a purple Grace He ſhews his honeſt Face, Now gives the Hautboys breath; He comes, He comes, Bacchus, ever Fair and Young, Drinking Joys did firſt ordain: Bacchus' Bleſſings are a Treaſure, Drinking is the Soldier's Pleaſure: Rich the Treaſure, Sweet the Pleaſure; Sweet is Pleaſure after Pain. CHORUS. Bacchus' Bleſſings are a Treaſure; Drinking is the Soldier's Pleaſure; Rich the Treaſure, Sweet the Pleaſure; Sweet is Pleaſure after Pain. IV. Sooth'd with the Sound the King grew vain; Fought all his Battles o'er again; And thrice he routed all his Foes; and thrice he ſlew the ſlain. The maſter ſaw the Madneſs riſe, His glowing Cheeks, his ardent Eyes; And while he Heav'n and E • r • h defy'd, Chang'd his Hand, and cheek'd his Pride. He choſe a mournful Muſe. Soft Pity to infuſe: He ſung Darius Great and Good, By too ſevere a Fate, Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen, Fallen from his high Eſtate, And weltring in his Blood: Deſerted at his utmoſt Need, By thoſe his former Bounty fed: On the bare Earth expos'd he lies, With not a friend to cloſe his Eyes. With down-caſt Looks the joyleſs Victor ſate, Revolving in his alter'd Soul The various Turns of Chance below; And, now, and then, a ſigh he ſtole; And Tears began to flow. CHORUS. Revolving in his alter'd Soul The various Turns of Chance below; And, now and then, a ſigh he ſtole; And Tears began to flow. V. The mighty Maſter ſmil'd, to ſee That Love was in the next Degree: 'Twas but a Kindred-Sound to move; For Pity melts the Mind to Love. Softly ſweet, in Lydian Meaſures, Soon he ſooth'd his Soul to Pleaſures. War, he ſung, is Toil and Trouble; Honour but an empty Bubble. Never ending, ſtill beginning, Fighting ſtill, and ſtill deſtroying, If the World be worth thy Winning, Think, O think, it worth Enjoying. Lovely Thais ſits beſide thee, Take the Good the Gods provide thee. The Many rend the Skies, with loud Applauſe; So Love was crown'd, but Muſic won the Cauſe. The Prince, unable to conceal his Pain, Gaz'd on the Fair Who caus'd his Care, And ſigh'd and look'd, and ſigh'd again: At length, with Love and Wine at once oppreſs'd, The vanquiſh'd Victor ſunk upon her Breaſt. CHORUS. The Prince, unable to conceal his Pain, Gaz'd on the F • ir Who caus'd his Care, And ſigh'd and look'd and ſigh'd again: At length, with Love and Wine at once oppreſs'd, The vanquiſh'd Victor ſunk upon her Breaſt. VI. Now ſtrike the Golden Lyre again: A louder yet, and yet a louder Strain. Break his Bands of Sleep aſunder, And rouze him, like a ra • tling Peal of Thunder. Hark, hark, the horrid Sound Has • ais'd up his Head, As awak'd from the Dead, And amaz • d, he ſtar • s around. Revenge, Revenge, Timotheus cries, See the Furies ariſe: See the Snakes that they rear, How they hiſs in their Hair, And the Sparkle • that fl • ſh • rom their Eyes! Behold a ghaſtly Band, Each a Torch in his Hand! Thoſe are Grecian Ghoſts, that in Battle were ſlain, And unbury'd remain Inglorious on the Plain. Give the Vengeance due To the Valiant Crew. Behold how they toſs their Torches on high, How they point to the Perſian Abodes, And glitt'ring Temples of their Hoſtile Gods, The Princes applaud, with a furious Joy; And the King ſeiz'd a Flambeau, with Zeal to deſtroy; Thais led the Way, To light him to his Prey, And like another Helen, fir'd another Troy. CHORUS. And the King ſeiz'd a Flambeau, with Zeal to deſtroy; Thais led the way, To light him to his Prey, And like another Helen, fir'd another Troy. VII Thus, long ago, Ere heaving Bellows learn'd to blow, While Organs yet were mute; Timotheus, to his breathing Flute, And ſounding Lyre Cou'd ſwell the Soul to Rage, or kindle ſoft Deſire At laſt divine Ceci • ia came, Inventreſs • f the Vocal Frame; The ſweet Enthuſiaſt, from her ſacred Store, Enlarg'd the f • me • narrow Bounds, • nd added Length to ſolemn Sounds, Wi • h Nature's Mother- • it, and Arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the Prize, Or both divide the Crown; He rais'd a Mortal to the ſkies; She drew an Angel down. Grand CHORUS. At laſt, Divine Cecilia came, Inventreſs of the Vocal Frame; The ſweet Enthuſiaſt, from her ſacred Store, Enlarg'd the former narrow Bounds, And added Length to ſolemn Sounds, With Nature's Mother-Wit, and Arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the Prize, Or both divide the Crown; He rais'd a Mortal to the Skies; She drew an Angel down.

ODE on SOLITUDE. By Mr. POPE. HAPPY the man, whoſe wiſh and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground. Whoſe herds with milk, whoſe fields with bread, Whoſe flocks ſupply him with attire, Whoſe trees in ſummer yield him ſhade, In winter fire. Bleſt, who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years ſlide ſoft away, In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day, Sound ſleep by night; ſtudy and eaſe, Together mixt; ſweet recreation: And innocence, which moſt does pleaſe With meditation. Thus let me live, unſeen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die, Steal from the world, and not a ſtone, Tell where I lie.

The dying Chriſtian to his Soul. ODE. By Mr. POPE. I. VITAL ſpark of heav'nly flame: Quit, oh quit this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, Oh the pain, the bliſs of dying! Ceaſe, fond Nature, ceaſe thy ſtrife, And let me languiſh into life. II. Hark! they whiſper; Angels ſay, Siſter Spirit, come away. What is this abſorbs me quite? Steals my ſenſes, ſhuts my ſight, Drowns my ſpirits, draws my breath? Tell me, my ſoul, can this be Death? III. The world recedes; it diſappears! Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears With ſounds ſeraphic ring: Lend, lend your wings! I mount, I fly! O Grave? where is thy V • ctory? O Death! where is thy Sting?

THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER. DEO OPT. MAX. By Mr. POPE. FATHER of All! in ev'ry Age, In ev'ry Clime ador'd, By Saint, by Savage, and by Sage, Jehovah, Jove, or Lord! Thou Great Firſt Cauſe, leaſt underſtood, Who all my Senſe confin'd To know but this, that Thou art Good, And that myſelf am blind; Yet gave me, in this dark Eſtate, To ſee the Good from Ill; And binding Nature faſt in Fate, Left free the Human Will. What Conſcience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This, teach me more than Hell to ſhun, That, more than Hea • 'n purſue. What Bleſſings thy free Bounty gives, Let me not caſt away; For God is paid when Man receives, T' enjoy is to obey. Yet not to Earth's contracted Span Thy Goodneſs let me bound, Or think Thee Lord alone of Man, When thouſand Worlds are round: Let not this weak, unknowing Hand Preſume thy Bolts to throw. And deal Damnation rou • d the Land, On each I judge thy Foe. If I am right, thy Grace impart, Still in the right to ſtay: If I am wrong, oh teach my Heart To find that better Way. Save me alike from fooliſh Pride, Or impious Diſcontent, At ought thy Wiſdom has deny'd, Or aught thy Goodneſs lent. Teach me to feel another's Woe, To hide the Fault I ſee; That Mercy I to others ſhew, That Mercy ſhew to me. Mean tho' I am, not wholly ſo, Since quicken'd by thy Breath; O lead me whereſo • 'er I go, Thro' this Day's Life or Death. This Day, be Bread and Peace my Lot: All elſe beneath the Sun, Thou know'ſt if beſt beſtow'd or not, And let thy Will be done. To thee, whoſe Temple is all Space, Wh • ſe Altar, Earth, Sea, Skies! One Chorus let all Being raiſe! All Nature's Incenſe riſe!

ELEGY To the MEMORY of an UNFORTUNATE LADYSee the Duke of Buckingham's verſes to a Lady deſigning to retire into a Monaſtery compared with Mr. P • pe's Le • ters to ſeveral Ladies, p. 206. quarto edition She ſeems to be the ſame perſon whoſe unfortunate death is the ſubject of this poem.. By Mr. POPE. WHAT beck'ning ghoſt, along the moon-light ſhade Invites my ſteps, and points to yonder glade! 'Tis ſhe!—but why that bleed • ng boſom gor'd, Why dimly gleams the viſionary ſword? Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly! • ell, Is it, in Heav'n a crime to love too well? T • bear too tender, or too firm a heart, To act a Lover's or a Roman's part? Is there no bright reverſion in the ſky, For thoſe who greatly think, or bravely die? Why bade ye elſe, ye pow'rs! her ſoul aſpire Above the vulgar flight of low deſire? Ambition firſt ſprung from your bleſt abodes; The glorious Fault of Angels and of Gods▪ Thence to their images on earth it flows, And in the breaſts of Kings and Heroes glows. Moſt ſouls, 'tis true, but peep out onc • • n age, Dull ſullen pris'ners in the body's cage: Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years, Uſeleſs, unſeen, as lamps in ſepulchres; Like Eaſtern Kings, a lazy ſtate they keep, And cloſe conf • n'd to their own palace ſleep. From theſe perhaps (ere nature bade her die) Fate ſnatcht her early to the pitying ſky, As into air the purer ſpirits flow, And ſep'rate from their kindred dregs below; So flew the ſoul to its congenial place, Nor left one virtue to redeem her race. But thou falſe guardian of a charge too good, Thou mean deſerter of a Brother's blood! See on theſe ruby lips the trembling breath, Theſe cheeks now fading at the blaſt of death; Cold is the breaſt that warm'd the world 〈◊〉 And thoſe love darting eyes muſt roll no mor • ▪ Thus, if eternal juſtice rules the ball, Thus ſhall your wives, and thus your children fal • On all the line a ſudden vengeance waits, And frequent h • rſe ſh • l • beſi • g • your gates. There paſſengers ſhall ſtand and pointing ſay, (While the long funeral blackens all the way,) Lo! theſe were they, whoſe ſouls the Furies ſteel'd, And curs'd with hearts unknowing how to yield. Thus unlamented paſs the crowd away, The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day! So periſh all, whoſe breaſts ne'er learn'd to glow For others good, or melt at others woe. What can atone (oh ever injur'd ſhade!) Thy fate unpity'd, and thy rites unpaid? No friend's complaint, no kind domeſtic tear Pleas'd thy pale ghoſt, or grac'd thy mournful bier: By foreign hands thy dying eyes were clos'd, By foreign hands thy decent limbs compos'd, By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn'd, By ſtrangers honour'd, and by ſtrangers mourn'd! What tho' no friends in ſable weeds appear, Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, And bear about the mockery of woe To midnight dances, and the public ſhow? What tho no weeping loves thy aſhes grace, Nor poliſh'd marble emulate thy face? What tho' no ſacred earth allow thee room, Nor hallow'd dirge be mutter'd round thy tomb? Yet ſhall thy grave with riſing flow • rs be dreſt, And the green • urf l • e lightly on thy breaſt: There ſhall the mor • her earlieſt tears beſtow, There the firſt roſes of the year ſhall blow; While A • ge • s with their ſilver w • ngs o'erſhade The ground now ſacred by thy reliques made. So peaceful reſts without a ſtone, a name, What once had beauty, titles, wealth and fame. How lov'd, how honour'd once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom be got; A heap of duſt alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art and all the proud ſhall be! Poets themſelves muſt fall like th • ſe they ſung, Deaf the prais'd ear, and mu • e the tuneful tongue. Ev'n he, whoſe ſoul now me •• s in mournful lays, Shall ſhortly want the gen'rous tear he pays; Then from his cloſing eyes thy form ſhall part, And the laſt pang ſhall • ear thee f • om his heart. Life's idle buſineſs at one gaſp be o'er, The Muſe forgot, and thou belov'd no more!

VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS. Tranſlated in Paraphraſe. By Mr. DRYDEN. CReated Spirit, by whoſe Aid The World's Foundations firſt were laid, Come viſit ev • ry pious Mind; Come pour thy Joys on Human Kind; From Sin and Sorrow ſet us free; And make thy Temples worthy Thee. O, Source of uncreated Light, The Father's promis'd Paraclete! Comforter. Thrice Holy Fount, thrice Holy Fire, Our Hearts with Heav'nly love inſpire; Come, and thy Sacred Unction bring To ſanctify us, while we ſing! Plenteous of Grace, deſcend from high, Rich in thy ſev'nfold Energy! Thou Strength of his Almighty Hand, Whoſe Pow'r does Heaven and Earth command. Proceeding Spirit, our Defence, Who do'ſt the Gift of Tongues diſpenſe, And crown'ſt thy Gift with Eloquence! Refine and purge our Earthly Parts; But, Oh, inflame and fire our Hearts! Our Frailties help, our Vice controul; Submit the Senſes to the Soul; And when rebellious they are grown, Then, lay thy Hand, and hold 'em down. Chaſe from our Minds th'infernal Fo • ; And Peace, the Fruit of Love, beſtow: And, leſt our Feet ſhould ſtep aſtray; Protect, and guide us in the way. Make us Eternal Truths receive, And practiſe all that we believe: Give us thyſelf, that we may ſee The Father, and the Son, by thee. Immortal Honour, endleſs Fame, Attend th' Almighty Father's Name; The Saviour Son be glorify'd, Who for loſt Man's Redemption dy'd, And equal Adoration be, Eternal Paraclete, to thee. FINIS.