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,
Around him feeds his many-bleating flock, Of various cadence; and his sportive lambs, This way and that convolv'd, in friskful glee Their frolics play. And now the sprightly race
And ceaseless caws amusive; there, well pleas'd, Invites them forth; when swift, the signal given,
I might the various polity survey
Of the mixt household kind. The careful hen Calls all her chirping family around, Fed and defended by the fearless cock;
Whose breast with ardor flames, as on he walks Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond, The finely-chequer'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 threatening reddens; while the peacock spreads
His every-color'd glory to the Sun, And swims in radiant majesty along.
O'er the whole homely scene, the cooing dove Flies thick in amorous chase, 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. Through 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 side the rambling sprays Luxuriant shoot; or through the mazy wood Dejected wanders, nor th' enticing bud Crops, though it presses on his careless sense. And oft, in jealous maddening 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 heeds the rein, nor hears 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;
They start away, and sweep the massy mound That runs around the hill; the rampart once
Of iron war, in ancient barbarous times, When disunited Britain ever bled, Lost in eternal broil: ere yet she grew To this deep-laid indissoluble state, Where Wealth and Commerce lift their golden And o'er our labors, Liberty and Law, Impartial, watch; the wonder of a world!
What is this mighty Breath, ye sages, say, That, in a powerful language, felt, not heard, Instructs the fowls of heaven; and through 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, though 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, vie 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,
O'er rocks, and woods, and craggy mountains flies: Can restless goodness wait: your active search And, neighing, on th' aërial summit takes Th' exciting gale; then, steep-descending, cleaves The headlong torrents foaming down the hills, Ev'n where the madness of the straiten'd stream Turns in black eddies round; such is the force With which his frantic heart and sinews swell. Nor undelighted by the boundless Spring Are the broad monsters of the foaming 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 descending Sun.
Leaves no cold wintery corner unexplor'd; Like silent-working Heaven, surprising oft The lonely heart with unexpected good. For you, the roving spirit of the wind Blows Spring abroad; for you, the teeming clouds 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 ray, O Lyttleton, the friend! thy passions thus And meditations vary, as at large.
With sighing languishment. Ah then, ye fair! Be greatly cautious of your sliding hearts: Dare not th' infectious sigh; the pleading look, Downcast, and low, in meek submission drest,
Courting the Muse, through Hagley Park thou But full of guile. Let not the fervent tongue,
Thy British Temple! There along the dale, With woods o'er-hung and shagg'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 through 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 gulf 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 varied 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 happiness! which love, Alone, bestows, and on a favor'd few. Meantime you gain the height, from whose fair brow The bursting prospect spreads immense around: And stretch'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 columns mark'd Of household smoke, your eye excursive roams: Wide-stretching from the hall in whose kind haunt The hospitable genius lingers still,
To where the broken landscape, by degrees, Ascending, roughens into rigid hills; O'er which the Cambrian mountains, like far clouds That skirt the blue horizon, dusky 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
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' illusive form; the kindling grace; Th' enticing smile; the modest-seeming eye, Beneath whose beauteous beams, belying Heaven, Lurk searchless cunning, cruelty, and death: And still false-warbling in his cheated ear, Her syren voice, enchanting, draws him on To guileful shores, and meads of fatal joy. Ev'n 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 through the conscious heart, where honor And great design, against the 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 yon 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 dullness, 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 through 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 through 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, Exanimate by love: and then perhaps Exhausted nature sinks awhile to rest, Still interrupted by distracted dreams, That o'er the sick imagination rise,
And in black colors paint the mimic scene. Oft with th' enchantress of his soul he talks; Sometimes in crowds 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, Through forests huge, and long untravell'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 succorless, 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 through 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, Farewell! Ye gleamings of departed 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 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. Straight the fierce storm involves his mind anew, Flames through the nerves, and boils along the veins; While anxious doubt distracts the tortur'd heart: For ev'n the sad assurance of his fears Were ease to what he feels. Thus the warm youth, Whom Love deludes into his thorny wilds, Through flowery-tempting paths, or leads a life
Of fever'd rapture, or of cruel care; His brightest flames extinguish'd all, and all His lively moments running down to waste.
But happy they! the happiest of their kind! Whom gentler 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 lothing 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 mere, 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, honor, harmony, and love, The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven. Meantime a smiling offspring rises round, And mingles both their graces. By degrees, The human blossom blows; and every day, Soft as it rolls along, shows 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 instruction o'er the mind, To breathe th' enlivening spirit, and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast. Oh, speak the joy! ye whom the sudden tear Surprises 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 labor, 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
The subject proposed. Invocation. Address to Mr. Doddington. An introductory reflection 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 described. Hay-making. Sheep-shearing. Noon-day. A woodland retreat. Group 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.
FROM brightening fields of ether fair disclos'd, Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes, In pride of youth, and felt through 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 sunbeam wanders through 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 honor, and an active zeal For Britain's glory, liberty, and man: O Doddington! attend my rural song, Stoop to my theme, inspirit every line, And teach me to deserve thy just applause. With what an awful world-revolving power Were first th' unwieldy planets lanch'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 labor'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! 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, through the dusk, the smoking currents shine; And from the bladed field the fearful hare Limps, awkward; 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 crowded 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 the enlighten'd soul! Or else to feverish vanity alive, Wilder'd, and tossing through 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 color'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 cheerer 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
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 through thy vast domain, Annual, along the bright ecliptic road,
In world-rejoicing state, it moves sublime. Meantime 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 enliven'd 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 Labor draws his tools; hence burnish'd War Gleams on the day; the nobler works of Peace Hence bless mankind, and generous Commerce
The round of nations in a golden chain.
Th' 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 deepening 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 through 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 reluctant stream Plays o'er the mead. The precipice abrupt, Projecting horror on the blacken'd flood, Softens at thy return. The desert joys Wildly, through 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 o'erflowing, all those lamps of Heaven, That beam for ever through the boundless sky : But, should he hide his face, th' astonish'd Sun, And all the extinguish'd stars, would loosening reel Wide from their spheres, and Chaos come again.
And yet was every faltering tongue of man, Almighty Father! silent in thy praise, Thy works themselves would raise a general voice, Ev'n 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 through 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 that hover'd round the hills In party-color'd bands; till wide unveil'd The face of Nature shines, from where Earth seems, Far stretch'd around, to 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 through 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 through their azure veins. But one, the lofty follower of the Sun, Sad when he sits, 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 cheerful 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 sit embower'd, All the hot noon, till cooler hours arise. Faint, underneath, the household 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 through her song. Not mean, though simple; to the Sun allied, From him they draw their animating fire.
Wak'd by his warmer ray, the reptile young Come wing'd abroad; by the light air upborne Lighter, and full of soul. From every chink, And secret corner, where they slept away The wintery storms; or rising from their tomba, To higher life; by myriads, forth at once, Swarming they pour; of all the varied hues Their beauty-beaming parent can disclose. 2 M
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