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 I 
 
 THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE 
 
 I I. L U S T It A T I .\ I i 
 
 'Clje ,^fasons anil ^tWnWv, of tlir JJrar, 
 
 T II E 1 1: 
 
 CHANGES, EMPLOYMENTS, LESSONS, AND PLEASURES, 
 
 TOPI C ALLY PARAGRAPHED; 
 
 COMPLETE INDEX: 
 
 JOSEPH WILLIAM JENKS. .M. A., 
 
 BOSTON: 
 PUBLISHED BY JOIL\ P. JEWETT AND COMPANV. 
 
 CLEVELAND, OHIO: 
 
 JEWETT, PROCTOR, AND WO RTIII XGTO X . 
 
 NEW YOUK; SHELDON, BLAKEMAN, & CO. 
 
 1856. 
 

 Au^V 
 
 Entered, accordmg to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by 
 
 JOSEPH WILLIAM JENKS, M. A., 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the District of Massacliusettfi. 
 
 VERY, COHSniLt. 
 
THE HON. MARSHALL PINCKNEY WILDER, 
 
 THE UNITED STATES ACniCULTURAL SOCIETY, 
 
 IM!ESIIi::XT OF THE AMEniCAX POMOLOGICAL SOCIETV, 
 
 GEXEBOUS, AND SUriESSFfL 
 
 l,L LOVEIIS OF 
 
 i.ND HER CULTURE I 
 
 I THE FRIEND OF AGRICULTURE AND RURAL ART ; — 
 
 ^inb also to 
 
 THE MEMBERS GEXEKALLY 
 
 3VE-NAMED USEFUL AND HONORED NATIONAL SOCIETIES; 
 
 AS TO THOSE WHO WILL BEST 
 
 BEST DESERVE THE PLACE OF PATRONS 
 
 ENTERPRISE, CONCEIV 
 
 SPIRIT KINDRED TO THEIR OWN, 
 
 ilris irolume of %m\ |0ttrn 
 
 IMS AND THEIR OBEDIENT HUMBLE SERVAN 
 
 J. W. JEXK3. 
 
 iv::255G48 
 
|lrcf;icf. 
 
 TnosE nations that have the most taste for 
 rural pursuits must ever rank higlicst ; for tlicy 
 have tlio greatest number of happy homes, where 
 that individuality and strength of character may 
 be produced which isolation among natural scenes 
 creates and nurtures ; — homes, where dwell the 
 virtues which make strong the foundations of a 
 state. Now, the cultivation of rural tastes through 
 poetry and poetic fancies, by making countiy 
 homes more attractive, tends to render tliese home 
 influences more powerful, by rendering them more 
 delightful. We may instance that in such a cul- 
 tivation, investing with correspondent forms, all 
 charming objects of a charming cUme, lay much 
 of the beautiful strength of the Greek character, 
 whose impress is so strong on all European, and, 
 of course, on our own civilization. 
 
 Americans, indeed, in the absence of pictures 
 and statues, consequent upon the newness of our 
 surroundings, are in a manner compelled to re- 
 sort to nature for unages of beauty which shall 
 cultivate and perfect the taste. Nowhere, how- 
 ever, does man less need the appliances of the 
 pictorial and statuary ai-ts than in our own wide 
 counti-y, where nature lavishes so much of beauty 
 and gi-andeur. 
 
 We are frequently told, that, for the sesthetic 
 cultivation so necessary tn n Infty civilization, 
 our countiy lacks the v™ei;il.lr niin^ nf time- 
 honored antiquity, round whirh Unit Imllowed 
 ideas, that enlarge humuuity by cxtuuding its 
 life into the past of our race, and aggrandize 
 its heart with an inheritance of the accumulated 
 sympathies of many generations. But, in the 
 lack of mouldering ruins, we may supply their 
 place by hallowing with poetry the antiquities of 
 nature, — our solemn forests of undated age, and 
 our rocks, hoary with the mosses of primeval 
 time. These antedate the oldest of man's mon- 
 uments, and arc coeval with that heavenly infancy 
 of humanity when the works of God were a suffi- 
 cient chronology, and dates were kept, not of selfish 
 deetls of renown, but of progi-ess in the formation 
 of character. The people of that Golden Age 
 raiseil no pynvmids, temples, nor towers ; they 
 passed easily to heaven from simple tents pitched 
 upon mountains, beside lovely springs and 
 streams, or in forest glades, under tlie shade of 
 whose trees they enjoyed the companionship of 
 angels, innocent like themselves, and, like them- 
 selves, in love with everything beautiful and good. 
 
 Rural poetry should therefore be held in lienor, 
 because it tends to heighten, purify, multiply, and 
 
 exphiin, tlic associations, correspondences, or anal- 
 iv/iv^. wlii. Ii fvrii yot, in these iron ages, give 
 111.- 1 i!' I III I ifi' iind language to itselcnicnts. 
 Ivh S 'it III I' nr, each form and function, 
 may iliu.-. lucmiir :l companion, or a lesson ; and 
 with tliia advantage over pictures and statues, 
 that, while the heart prone to depravity may be 
 corrupted by them, nature has no sights nor 
 sounds wliicli ■ m mini^tir to vice, for all her 
 influences :in- cliMiiin.; im 1 imrifying. 
 
 It was unilrr tlif iiiipiilse of such thoughts 
 that the compiler conceived the design, a decade 
 of years since, of bringing into one volume, in 
 an attractive form, the chief rural poems of tlie 
 language ; tliat thus lio midit fiiltil n part of that 
 
 obligation we :nv all mil. i- t,, lr,\ i-icty better 
 
 than we fouml it. SIimuM ilii- m.Iiiihc contribute 
 to awaken, cultivate, ur giatily, tUc rural tastes 
 of his countryiueu and countrywomen, he will 
 not regret the time and drudgery it has cost him 
 to collect, arrange, paragraph, and Index, these 
 choice portions of that legacy of English literature, 
 which is the common inheritance of the two 
 mightiest empires of mind. 
 
 A glance at the volume will explain its con- 
 veniences. How often, in a few moments of lei- 
 sure, snatched from the busy hours of a busy 
 people, do wo, in t-il:!:-/ v.y -i h,.,.]; nf poetry to 
 solace oursrlvi's nlih i i i ii ; i.:i;.'e, vainly 
 
 turn over till' liMM-. i . in,' page after 
 
 page, read much tluit v.u .j.n- n "! i"!', and, after 
 an harassing search, give up the passage in de.s- 
 p.air, as we find the halcyon moments we could 
 abandon to its charms have forever fled ; — how 
 often do we close the book in a disagreeable state 
 of mind, the memory of which prevents us from 
 soon opening its pages again ! But, in the ar- 
 rangement (which the editor believes to be entirely 
 original) adopted in this volume, what with the 
 minute division into conspicuous paragraphs, ac- 
 cording to topics, with copious and exact captions, 
 tlie ' arguments ' hciiding each separate book or 
 canto of a poem, and the very full index at the 
 end, — any favorite passage, and indeetl any 
 sought-for sentiment, name, precept, description, 
 or allusion, may be turned to without tlic loss of 
 a moment. We thus find with ease what we 
 are in the mood of reading, minister at once to 
 the good tastes we are cidtivating, and put aside 
 the book with a sense of improvement and pleas- 
 ure which spreads its zest over many an otherwise 
 weary and profitless hour. 
 
 .). W. .). 
 
 Boston, June, 1856. 
 
Conttitts, 
 
 SPRING, pp. 1—134. 
 
 MAKCH, pp. 1—40. 
 
 Tbouson^s Spriso, 3 — 14 
 
 Pastorals fob Mabch, 15—18 
 
 Spenser's March, an Eclofuc, 15 
 
 Gray's Vicissitude, 10 
 
 Theocritus's Daphnis (Chapman), .... 1" 
 
 HfSiOD's ■Works asp Days, 19—24 
 
 RcBAt Odks for March, 25, 26 
 
 Bryant's March, 25 
 
 Bion's Evening Star (Chapman), . . . .25 
 
 Burns's Mountain Daisy, 25 
 
 Moschus's Cupid a Runaway (Chapman), . . 26 
 Theocritus's DistafT (Chapman), .... 26 
 
 Giv's RcRAL Sports, 27—31 
 
 TvssER's March's HrsnASOBT, 31 
 
 RCSTIC BALI-iDS FOR MaRCB, 32—34 
 
 Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne, .... 32 
 
 Drayton's Robin in Sherwood, 34 
 
 Goi.DSJirrn'3 Desertbd Tillage, .... 35—38 
 
 llvMXS OP Praise for March, 39 
 
 Bryant's Forest Hymn, 39 
 
 Merrick's Psalm 8th, 40 
 
 Milton's Morning Hymn, 40 
 
 APRIL, pp. 41—78. 
 Bloomfield's Farmer's Bor ; Spriso, 
 
 Mrs. IIul 
 
 Pastorals for April, 
 
 Virgil's Tityrus and Melibffius, . 
 Herbert's Northern Spring, 
 Meleager's Spring (Buctcminster), 
 Armstrokg's Art of Hbaltb ; Air, 
 KcRAL Odes for April, . 
 Jlrs. Barbauld's Spring, 
 Longfellow's April Day, . . 
 
 47—50 
 61—54 
 
 fSprii 
 
 I'ercivars Spring o^ 
 
 I.«ngfeIlow's .\pril, 52 
 
 ' Clare's Spring Musings, 53 
 
 Warton's April, 54 
 
 Dodslet's Aoriccltcre, 65—70 
 
 Tcsser's April's Hosbasdrv, . • . . 7 ' 
 
 RcsTic Ballads for April, .... 71—74 
 
 Bloomfield's Abner and the TVidow Jones, . 71—73 
 
 Tickell's lucy and Colin, 73 
 
 Bloomfleld's Fakenhara Ghost, .... 73 
 
 Bloomfield's Rosy Hannah 74 
 
 Dyer's Rcbal Poems, 75—77 
 
 Dyer's Gronpar Hill, 75. 76 
 
 Dyer's Country Walk, 70, 77 
 
 P.SALMS OF Praise for April, 78 
 
 Mrs. Barbauld's Divine Sovereignty, ... 78 
 Addison's Twenty-third Psalm, .... 78 
 
 MAY, pp. 79—134. 
 Cowpeb's Gardes (Task), . 
 Pastorals for May, .... 
 
 Aikin'sWish 
 
 Moschus's Choice, .... 
 
 SOMERVILLE'S MAY GAMES, . 
 
 . . . . 89—100 
 
 RCRAL Odes for May, 101, 102 
 
 Percival's Reign of May, .... 101, 102 
 
 Milton's May Morning, 102 
 
 Holmes's Spring Scene, .... .102 
 
 Anacpeon's Spring, 102 
 
 , Dryden's Emily a-Maying, 102 
 
 ' RiHSAT's Oektle Shephbrd 103—123 
 
 BrSTio Ballads, &c., for Mat, . . . 129, 130 
 
 Graves's Ballad to the Birds 129 
 
 Breton's Phillidn and Corydon, .... 129 
 
Bloomfleld's Lucy, 129, 130 
 
 Street's Early Garden, 130 
 
 Heywood's Shepherd's Sang, 130 
 
 Forest Walk in Spring, . . 131—133 
 
 'dsser's May's Hdsbasdrv, 133 
 
 'SALMs OP Praise tor Mat, 134 
 
 Pope's Universal Prayer, 134 
 
 Addison's Nineteenth PsaUn, . . . 134 
 
 SUMMER, 
 
 JUNE, pp. 135—192. 
 Thomsos's Scmmee 
 
 Pastorals for June, . 
 
 Cunningham's Day, . 
 
 Shenstone's Hope, 
 
 Otway's Morning, 
 Browse's Bbitassia's Pastorals (e 
 
 HAL Odes for Jone, . 
 Warton's Hamlet, . 
 Bryant's Song of Wooing, 
 Dawes's Spirit of Beauty, 
 Motherwell's Summer Months, 
 
 Mason's E.nglish Gardes, . 
 Tcsser's Jcne's Hcsbandrt, 
 RnsTio Ballads for Jitse, . 
 
 The Children in the Wood, . 
 
 Lady Barnard's Auld Rubin Gray 
 Lyttelton's Progress of Love, 
 
 Uncertainty, .... 
 
 Jealousy, 
 
 Psalms of Praise for June, 
 Pope's Messiah, . 
 Quarles's Delight in God, 
 Ilerriok's Thanksgiving, . 
 
 JULY, pp. 193—244. 
 Bloomfield's Farmer's Bot ; Scmmeb, . . 193—197 
 
 Pastoral fob Jclt, 
 
 Pope's Summer, 198 
 
 Ar.mstbong's Art of Health ; Diet, . . 193—204 
 
 Tl'SSbb's July's IIcsbandry, 204 
 
 Rural Odes for Jclt, 205, 206 
 
 Bryant's After a Tempest, 205 
 
 Rogers's Rural Retreat, . . . . . .205 
 
 pp. 135—296. 
 
 Longfellow's Angler's Song, .... 205, 206 
 
 Drayton's Bouquet, 206 
 
 Bryant's Summer Wind, 206 
 
 Virgil's Georgics, 207-236 
 
 Elegy and Ballad for July, .... 2S7. 238 
 
 Gray's Elegy, 237 
 
 Bloomfield's Dolly, 2:S 
 
 Milton's Rural Poems, 239 — 243 
 
 L'AUegro 239, 240 
 
 II Penseroso 240, 241 
 
 Lycidas, 241—243 
 
 Rhymed Lessons fob Jclt, 
 
 Emerson's Wood-Notes, 244 
 
 Yaughan's Early Rising and Prayer, . . . 244 
 
 AUGUST, pp. 245—206. 
 
 CowpER's Sofa (Task), 245—262 
 
 Pastobals for Augitst, 253, 254 
 
 Theocritus's Singers of Pastorals, . . . 243, 254 
 
 Parnell's Health, 254 
 
 Crabbe's Village, 255—260 
 
 Rural Odes for August, 261. 262 
 
 Bryant's Rivulet, . . ... . . .261 
 
 Street's August, 262 
 
 Anacreon's Grasshopper (CuwIeyJ, ... 262 
 
 Clare's Summer Insects, 262 
 
 ■Delille's COU.NTRY Gentleman, .... 263-289 
 
 Rustic Ballads foe August, 
 
 Hood's Ruth, 290 
 
 Bloomfield's Gleaner's Song, 290 
 
 Collins's Fidele's Tomb, 290 
 
 Cowper's Shrubbery, 290 
 
 Pope's Windsor Forest, . . . ... 291—295 
 
 Tusser's August's Husbandry, 295 
 
 Psalms of Praise foe August, 
 
 Beattie's Hei-mit, 296 
 
 Pope's Universal Order, 296 
 
 On the Deity, 296 
 
AUTUMN, pp. 297—394. 
 
 SEPTEMBER, pp. 2117— USO. 
 
 Thomson's Aitcms, 297— ilO 
 
 Tdsser's Septkmbkh's IIi-sdasdry 310 
 
 Pastorals for SBrreMBER, 
 
 BrowDe'9 Britannia's Pastorals (extracts), 
 Crabbe'3 PABisn Reoistbr ; Baptisms, 
 
 S11-4J14 
 316—322 
 
 BCRAL Odes Foa Sei'tember, .... 323, 3i4 
 
 Lloyd's Country Box, 323 
 
 Clieetham's Happy Mean, 324 
 
 Rogers's Italian Cot, 324 
 
 Coleridge's Domestic Peace, 324 
 
 Clare's Brokes Heart, 325—327 
 
 RcsTic Ballad for September, 
 
 Bloomtteld's Uorkcy, or Harvest Home, . 328, 329 
 
 Psalm and Lessons for September, .... 
 
 Quarles's (Ps. 42 : 2) Longing to See God, . . 330 
 
 Pope's Mutual Dependence, 330 
 
 Gruhamc's Cliristian Sabbath 330 
 
 OCTOBER, pp. 331—358. 
 
 Bloomfield's Farmer's Bov ; Actumx, 
 Pastoral for AccrsT 
 
 Ramsay's Richy and Sandy, 
 Armstrong's Art of Prkservin( 
 I'xercise, . . . , 
 RcRAL Odes for October, . 
 
 Longfellow's Autumn, 
 
 Heal 
 
 Bryant's Autumn Woods, .... 
 
 Longfellow's Autumnal Nightfall, . 
 SOMERVlLLE'a CnASE (abridqed), 
 RcsTic Ballads for October, .... 
 
 Whittier's Huskers, 
 
 Hood's Season, 
 
 Miss Elliot's Flowers of the Forest, . 
 Psalm and Hymns for October, .... 
 
 Quarles's (Psalm 42 : 1) Longing after God, 
 
 Jones's Autumnal Hymn, .... 
 
 Young's Immortality, 
 
 343, 3U 
 
 . 344 
 
 345-355 
 
 NOVEMBER, pp. 359—394. 
 Cowter's Retirement (Table Talk), 
 Pastorals for November, . 
 
 Burns'3 Cotter's Saturday Night, . 
 
 Fletcher's (J.) Shepherd's Eve, . 
 Crabbe's Parish Reoister : Marriagi 
 
 C42l 
 
 337—0, 
 3-13,34-1 
 
 Odes for Novkmber, . , . . 
 Hood*3 Autumn, .... 
 llerrick's Farmer, .... 
 Bryant's Sonnet for November, 
 
 PlULIPS'S CiDEB, 
 
 TrssBR's November's Husbandry, 
 Ballad fob November, .... 
 
 Crabbe's Gypsy, or the Hall of Justk 
 Psalm of Praise for November, 
 
 Lon^'fellow's Thanksgiving, . 
 
 WINTER, pp. 395-515. 
 
 DECEJIBER, pp. 395—443. 
 Thomson's TVinter, 305 — 105 
 
 Pastorals for December, . 
 
 Shenstone's Absence, 
 
 Shenstone's Disappointment, . 
 Crabbe's Parish Reoister ; Bcrials, 
 Rural Odes for December, 
 
 First of December, .... 
 
 Bead's Stranger on the Door-Sill, . 
 Grainger's Scoar-Cane, 
 Tcssbr's December's HcsBASDRy, 
 
 Ballads i 
 
 Bloomfield's Market-Night, . 
 
 Happy Fireside, 
 
 Hymn of Praise for December, 
 
 Milton's Christmas Hymn (abridged), 
 
 J.VNU.VRY, pp. 445—406. 
 
 Bloomfield's Farmer'sB 
 
 TrssEE's Jaxcabt's Hcsd 
 
 Pastoral for .Tascarv, 
 
 Virgil's Melibtcus, . 
 
Arsistrong'3 Art of Health ; the Passion; 
 KuRAL Ode for January, 
 
 Winter, by W. Jenk3, D.D., . 
 Cowper's TVister Kvening (Task), 
 Ballad for Jancaet, . . . 
 
 Hamilton's 
 
 Braes of Yarrow, 
 Hymn of Praise for January, . 
 Coleridgc'3 Mont Blanc, . 
 
 FEBRUARY, pp. 467— 51-J. 
 
 Cowper's Winter Walks (Task), 
 Winter Morning Walli, . 
 Winter Wall£ at Noon, . 
 
 TdSSER'S rEBBUARY'S HUSBANDRY, .... 486 
 
 Pastorals for Pebbuary, 487,488 
 
 Browne's Respect to Age, .... 487,488 
 Fletcher's (P.) Shepherd's Life, .... 488 
 Dyer's Fleece (Three Books), .... 489—509 
 RCBAL Ode and Description for Februaby, 
 
 Greene's Shepherd and his Wife 510 
 
 Milton's Garden of Eden 610 
 
 Shenstone's Schoolmisteess 611—613 
 
 Ballads for February, 
 
 Longfellow's VUlage Blacksmith, .... 514 
 
 My Father, 614 
 
 Concluding Hymn of Praise 
 
 Thomson's Hymn of the Seasons, . . . 514,615 
 
tisi of ^Illustrations. 
 
 Frontispiece : Nature, the Alma JIater ; 
 Beneath, a Cartoon kepeesexting Medita- 
 tion AND Action. 
 
 Title-page : The Seasons Personified, and 
 their ever-changinq Circuit. 
 
 March, its Rural Employments and Pleas- 
 ures 3 
 
 April, its Rural Kmplovuenis and Pleas- 
 ures, 41 
 
 View of Shenstonf.'s Cottage, the Leasowes, 
 AT Uales-Owen, Shropshire, England, . . 50 
 
 May, ITS Rural Employments and Pleas- 
 ures, 79 
 
 View of Co^vpee's Birth-place, at Berkuam- 
 stead, Hertfordshire, England, .... 87 
 
 View of Thomson's Cottage, Kew-lane, near 
 Richmond, Cou.vtv of Surrey, Eng., ... 100 
 
 View of Ramsay's Lodge, near Edinburgh, 
 AND the Scenes of the 'Gentle Shepherd,' I'iS 
 
 June, its Rural Occupations and Pleas- 
 ures, 135 
 
 View of IIagley Park, the Residence of 
 Lord Lyttelton ; and frequently the 
 Abode of Thomson, 190 
 
 July, its Rural Occupations and Pleas- 
 ures, 193 
 
 Page 
 View of Austin (Ecston) Farm, the Residence 
 
 OF Bloomfield as a Farmer's Boy, ... 107 
 View of Milton's Cottage, at Chalfont, . . 24:! 
 August, its Rural Occupations and Enjoy- 
 
 View of Gray's Tomb and Stoke Church 
 and Cuurch-yaed, the Locality op Gray's 
 ' Elegy,' 2C0 
 
 September, its Products ; Hop-pickixg ; tim: 
 
 Chase 2'j7 
 
 October, its Employments and Amusements, . 331 
 
 View of Longfellow's Residence, Cambridge, 
 Massachusetts, 314 
 
 November ; Felling Tisider, 359 
 
 View op Crabbe's Bikth-place, Aldborouoh, . 374 
 
 View op Bryant's Residence, Roslyn, Long 
 Island, New York, 37G 
 
 December, its Snow and Christmas Cueeu, . 395 
 January ; the Winter Farm-yard, .... 415 
 
 February ; Hauling Wood, 407 
 
 View of the Cottage of Suenstone's School- 
 Mistress, at Hales-Owen, Shropshire, 
 
 WHERE ShENSTONE RECEIVED THE RUDIMENTS 
 
 OF HIS Education 513 
 
|iurat |1octr 
 
 THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 
 
SPRING-MARCH 
 
 'iLl}( J^irst of tijc g^casoiis. 
 
 THOMSON'S "SPRING." 
 
 The suhjpct prnpn!;ni. Tn=:cribp,l 
 
 ISVOCATIOS TO SPRIS'G. 
 
 Come, gentle Spring ! ethereal mildness ! co 
 And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud, 
 While music wakes around, veiled in a shower 
 Of sliadowing roses, on our plains descend. 
 
 Hertford' ! fitted or to shine in courts 
 With unaffected grace, or walk the plain 
 With innocence and meditation joined 
 In soft assemblage, listen to my song, 
 Which thy own season paints, when Nature all 
 Is blooming and benevolent, like thee. 
 
 1 The Countess of Hertford, a patroness of poetry, had 
 invited the poet to her residence, and during; his visit he 
 "le dedicated his " Summer " to her j a 
 
 And see where surly Winter passes off, 
 Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts : 
 His blasts obey, and quit the howling liill. 
 The shattered forest, and the ravaged vale ; 
 \Vhile softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch, 
 Iiissolving snows in livid torrents lost, 
 The mountains lift their green heads to the sky. 
 
 As yet the trembling year is unconfirmed. 
 And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze. 
 Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets 
 Dcfirii] tlie ilay ilclightlcss ; so that scarce 
 Th,. l.itt.rn knnws his time, with bill ingulfed, 
 To .-^iKikr thr snuivling marsh ; or from the shore 
 The plovuia when tu scatter o'er the heath. 
 And sing their wild notes to the listening waste. 
 
 EFFECTS op BETCRSINQ WARUTH. — PLOCGUIXG ; SOWING. 
 
 At last from Aries rolls the boanteous sun. 
 And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more 
 The expansive atmosphere is -cramped 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 unconfincd, 
 
EUEAL POETRY. — THOMSON. 
 
 Unbinding eaitli, the moving softness strays. 
 Joyous, tlie impatient husbandman perceives 
 Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers 
 Drives from their stalls, to where the well-used plough 
 Lies in the furrow, loosened from the frost. 
 There, unrefusing, to the harnessed yoke 
 Tlicy lend their shoulder, and begin their toil. 
 Cheered by the simple song and soaring lark. 
 Jleanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share 
 The master loans, removes the obstructing clay. 
 Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the glebe. 
 While through the neighboring fields the sower 
 stalks 
 With measured step, and, liberal, throws the grain 
 Into the faithful bosom of the ground : 
 The harrow follows harsh, and shuts the scene. 
 
 POWERS OF NATURE. ■ 
 
 - FARMING A SITB- 
 
 Be gracious, Heaven ! for now laborious man 
 Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow ! 
 Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, descend ! 
 And temper all, thou world-reviving sun. 
 Into the perfect year ! Jfor 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 refined. 
 
 In ancient times the sacred plough employed 
 The kings and awful fathers of mankind ; 
 And some, with whom compared your insect-tribes 
 Are but the beings of a summer's day, 
 Have held the scale of craiiire. ruled the storm 
 Of mighty war ; then, with unwearied hand. 
 Disdaining little delicacies, seized 
 The plough, and greatly independent lived. 
 
 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 through 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 clothe. 
 And be the exhaustless granary of a world ! 
 
 Nor only through 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 verdant 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 <vor-nrw d; ii.rtit. 
 
 From the moist meaduw h. ilir w iih I liiH, 
 
 Led by the breeze, the \i\ nl \. hIum i nn-, 
 And swells, and deepens, lo tin ilin i-lnd I'yc. 
 The hawthorn whitens ; and the juicy groves 
 Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees. 
 Till the whole leafy forest stands displayed, 
 In full luxiiri;nirr, to the sighing gales ; 
 WluTc 111. 'irrv 111-11. ■ tlifough the twiuiug brake, 
 
 And th.' liii.i- Mil- -L'aled. At once arrayed 
 
 In all th.' .■.l.ir- ..1 the flushing year. 
 By Nature's swift and secret-working hand. 
 The garden glows, and fills the liberal air 
 With lavish fragrance ; while the promised fruit 
 Lies yet a little embryo, unperocived. 
 Within its crimson folds. 
 
 WORLD OF BLOSSOMS. 
 
 Now from the town 
 Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps, 
 Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields, [drops 
 
 Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling 
 From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze 
 Of sweetbrier hedges I pursue my walk ; 
 Or taste the smell of dairy ; or ascend 
 Some eminence, Augusta,' in thy plains, 
 And see the country, far diffused around. 
 One boundless blush, one white-empurpled shower 
 Of mingled blossoms ; where the raptured eye 
 Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath 
 The fair profusion, yellow Autumn spies. 
 
 CUTTISG . KORTH-EiSTERS WISDS. — MILDEW. — FROST. — 
 ISSECT ARMIES. —FAMI.NE. 
 
 If, brushed 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 through all her foliage shrinks. 
 Joyless and dead, a wide-dejected waste. 
 For oft, engendered by the hazy north, 
 Myriads on myriads, insect armies warp 
 Keen in the poisoned breeze ; and wasteful eat, 
 Through 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 involved 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 the envenomed leaf begins to curl. 
 With sprinkled water drowns them in their nest ; 
 
 1 'Virgil, whose Latin i 
 
 vas Publius Virgilii 
 
 1 The poetic r 
 
 s of Londoi 
 
Nor, while they pick thorn up with 
 The little trooping birds unwisely s 
 
 Be patient, swains ; these cruel-soeming winds 
 Blow not in vain. Far henoo they keep repressed 
 Those deepening clouds on clouds, surcharged with 
 That, o'er the vast Atlantic hither borne, [rain, 
 In endless train, would quench the summer-blaze. 
 And, cheerless, drown the crude, unripeued year. 
 
 The north-east spends his rage ; he now shut up 
 M'ithin his iron cave, the etfusive south 
 Warms the wide air, .ind 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 degrees. 
 In heaps ou heaps, the doubling vapor sails 
 Along the loaded sky, and mingling deep 
 Sits on the horizon 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 through the closing woods, 
 Or rustling turn the many-twinkling leaves 
 Of aspen tall. The uncurling floods, di.Tused 
 In glassy breadth, seem through delusive lajjse 
 Forgetful of their course. 'T is silence all 
 And pleasing expectation. Herds and flocks 
 Drop the dry sprig, and, mute-imploring, eye 
 The falling verdure. Hushed in short suspense. 
 The plumy people streak their wings with oil,' 
 To throw the lucid moisture trickling off, 
 And wait the approaching sign to strike, at once, 
 Into the general choir. E'en mountains, vales, 
 And forest<i seem, impatient, to demand 
 The promised 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 freshened world. 
 The stealing shower is scarce to patter heard 
 By such as wander through the forest walks. 
 Beneath the umbrageous multitude of leaves. 
 
 ^ At I 
 
 But who can hold the shade, while Heaven descends 
 
 In universal bounty, shedding herbs 
 
 And fruits and flowers on Nature's ample lap ! 
 
 Swift Fancy fired anticipates their growth ; 
 
 And, while the milky nutriment distils, 
 
 Beholds the kindling country color round. 
 
 CLBilllSG CP OP THE APBIL SHOWER. — TIIE SfS ; JIJIX- 
 DBOPS J BIRDS ; DltoOKS J I-OWI.SG OF CATTLE ; ZEPIlYlt, 
 
 Thus all day long the full-distended clouds 
 Indulge their genial stores, and well-showered earth 
 Is deep enriched with vegetable life ; 
 Till, in the western sky, the dcnvnwanl sun 
 Looks out, effulgent, from amid the flush 
 Of broken clouds, gay-shifting to his beam. 
 The rapid radiance instantaneous strikes 
 The illumined mountain, through the forest streams, 
 Shakes on the floods, and in a yellow mist. 
 Far smoking o'er the interminable plain. 
 In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems. 
 Moist, briglit.and green, the landscape laughs around ; 
 Full swell the woods ; their every music wakes. 
 Mixed in wild concert with the warbling brooks 
 Increased, the distant bleatings of the hills, 
 And hollow lows responsive from the vales, 
 Whence blending all the sweetened zephyr springs. 
 
 TUE RAINBOW. — .NEWTON'S PRISM. — THE COL'STRY BOY. 
 
 Meantime, 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. 
 Hero, awful Newtun ! the dissolviog clouds 
 Forai, fronting on the sun, thy showery prism ; 
 And to the sage-instructed eye unfold 
 The various twine of light, by thee disclosed 
 From the white-mingling maze. Not so tho boy ; 
 He wondering views the bright enchantment bend. 
 Delightful, o'er the radiant fields, and runs 
 To catch the falling glory ; but amazed 
 Beholds the amusive arch before him fly. 
 Then vanish quite away. Still night succeeds, 
 A softened shade, and saturated earth 
 Awaits the morning beam, to give to light, 
 Raised through ten thousand different plastic tubes, 
 Tho balmy treasures of tho 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 through the forest, rank 
 With what the dull incurious weeds account. 
 Bursts his blind way ; Or climbs the mountain rock. 
 Fired by the nodding verdure of its brow. 
 With such a liberal hand has Nature flung 
 Their seeds abroad, blown them about in winds. 
 
RURAL POETRY. THOMSON. 
 
 Innumerous mixed them with the nursing mould, 
 The moistening current, and prolific rain. 
 
 VARIOUS USES OF PLANTS. — VEGETABLE DIET. 
 
 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 lived in innocence, and told, 
 A length of golden years ; unfleshed 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 GOLDEN AGE OF INNOCENCE. — MOBNING IN THE GOLD! 
 
 The first fresh dawn then waked the gladdened race 
 Of uncorrupted Man, nor blushed to see 
 The sluggard sleep beneath its sacred beam ; 
 For their light slumbers gently fumed away. 
 And up they rose as vigorous as the sun. 
 Or to the culture of the willing glebe. 
 Or to the cheerful 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 breathed 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 those happy sons of Heaven ; 
 For reason and benevolence were law. 
 
 Harmonious Nature, too, looked smiling on : 
 Clear shone the skies, cooled with eternal gales, 
 And balmy spirit all. The youthful sun 
 Shot his best rays, and still the gracious clouds 
 Dropped fatness down ; as o'er the swelling mead 
 The herds and flocks, commixing, played secure. 
 This when, emergent from the gloomy wood. 
 The glaring lion saw, his horrid heart 
 Was meekeued, and he joined his sullen joy ; 
 For music held the whole in perfect peace : 
 Soft sighed the flute ; the tender voice was heard, 
 Warbling the varied heart ; the woodlands round 
 Applied their choir ; and winds and waters flowed 
 Such were those prime of days. 
 
 AGE CONTRASTED 
 
 But now those will Ir, iinlilriiiMircl ni;nmrr>, whence 
 The fabling poets ln>,l-: Ihrli -mMih :i :>■. 
 Are fol^nd no morr :i!iii'l lii' -■■ ii'ii liinr-. 
 These dregs of life ! ]Hiiv tlir dM.'ini.riva mind 
 Has lost that concord of iiarmonious 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 deformed, 
 
 Convulsive anger storms at large ; or, pale 
 
 And silent, settles into ftU Vevenge. 
 
 Base envy withers at another's joy. 
 
 And hates that excellence it cannot reach. 
 
 Desponding fear, of feeble fancies full. 
 
 Weak and unmanly, loosens every power. 
 
 E'en 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-cloyed 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. 
 
 VARIOUS CURSES BORN OF 
 
 These, and a thousand mixed 
 From ever-changing views of good and ill, 
 Formed infinitely various, vex the mind 
 With endless storm : whence, deeply rankling, grows 
 The partial thought, a listless unconcern. 
 Cold, and averting from our neighbor's good ; 
 Then dark disgust, and hatred, winding wiles. 
 Coward deceit, and ruflian violence : 
 At last, extinct each social feeling, fell 
 And joyless inhumanity pervades 
 And petrifies the heart. Nature disturbed 
 Is deemed, vindictive, to have changed her course. 
 
 Hence, in old dusky time, a deluge came : 
 When the deep-cleft disparting orb, that arched 
 The central waters round, impetuous rushed. 
 With universal burst, into the gulf, 
 And o'er the high-piled hills of fractured earth 
 Wide dashed the waves, in undulation vast : 
 Till, from tlio centre to the streaming clouds, 
 A shoreless ocean tumbled round the globe. 
 
 The seasons since have, with severer sway, 
 Oppressed a broken world. The Winter keen 
 Shook forth his waste of snows ; and Summer shot 
 His pestilential heats. Great Spring, before. 
 Greened all the year, and fruits and blossoms blushed, 
 In social sweetness, on the self-same bough. 
 Pure was the temperate air ; an even calm 
 Perpetual reigned, save that the zephyrs bland 
 Breathed o'er the blue expanse ; for then nor storms 
 Were taught to blow, nor hurricanes to rage ; 
 Sound slept the waters ; no sulphureous glooms 
 Swelled 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 tossed, from hot to cold. 
 And dry to moist, with inward-eating change. 
 Our drooping days are dwindled down to naught. 
 Their period finished ere 'tis well begun. 
 
THE EATING OF ANIMAL FOOD BY MAN REPROBATED } PLEA 
 AGAINST THE SLACGHTER OF SHEEP AND CATTLE FOR FOOD. 
 — rVTUAGOHAS. 
 
 And 3'et the wholesome herb neglected dies ; 
 Though with the pure exhilarating soul 
 Of nutriment and health and vital powers, 
 Beyond the search of art, 't is copious blest. 
 For, with holf ravine fired, ensanguined 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 drank her milk. 
 Nor wore bur wanuiii'; (Icece ; nor has the steer, 
 .•\t wl]"-r -tt.-n- . Ii. -I ili,> deadly tiger hangs. 
 E'er pliii ! ; : i i i' 111' y too are tempered high, 
 Witli Inn ■ ■ n . 1 , « i Id necessity , 
 Nor ludguj i^;i\ ui iLlh _-baggy breast. 
 But man, whom Nature formed of milder clay. 
 With every kind emotion in his heart, 
 And taught alone to weep ; 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, fairform! 
 Who wears sweet sidtI'--. ;tnd !m(,1-:j erect on heaven, 
 
 I ! • I'cast of prey, 
 !• I il; liut you, ye flocks, 
 .'iiofful 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, clothes the land 
 With all the pomp of harvest ; shall he bleed. 
 And struggling groan beneath the cruel bauds 
 E'en of the clown he feeds ? and that, perhaps. 
 To swell the riot of the autumnal feast. 
 Won by his labor ? Thus the feeling heart 
 Would tenderly suggest : but 't is enough. 
 In this late age, adventurous, to have tbuchcd 
 Light on the numbers of the Samian sage.^ 
 High Heaven forliids the bold, presumptuous strain, 
 Whose wisest will has fixed us in a state 
 That must not yet to pure perfection rise. 
 
 Which, by rapacious hunger swallowed deep. 
 Gives, as you tear it from the bleedmg breiL-t 
 Of the weak, helpless, uncomplaining wreteli. 
 Harsh pain and horror to the tender hand. 
 
 HOW.— SMALL : 
 
 I THE WATER. 
 
 E er stoop to mm: 
 And dip his toii;;ii 
 Blood-stained, di-,- 
 What have vou do 
 
 I Vrken with his lively ray the potent sun 
 ' Has pierced the streams, and roused the finny race, 
 [ Then, issuing cheerful, to thy sport repair ; 
 j Chief should the western breezes curling play. 
 And light o'er ether bear the shadowy clouds. 
 I High to their fount, tliis day, amid the hills, 
 I And woodlands warbling round, trace up the brooks; 
 The next, pursue their rocky-channelled maze, 
 Dovra to the river, in whose ample wave 
 1 The little naiads love to sport at large. 
 
 .Just in the dubious point, where with the pool 
 j Is mixed the trembling stream, or where it boils 
 I Around the stone, or from the hollowed bank 
 Reverted plays in undulating flow — 
 There throw, nice-judging, the delusive fly ; 
 And, as you lead it round in artful cun-e. 
 With eye attentive mark the springing game. 
 Straight as above the surface of the flood 
 They wanton rise, or urged 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 proportioned to their force. 
 If yet too young, and easily deceived, 
 A worthless prey soaroo bends your pliant rod. 
 Him, piteous of his youth and the short space 
 He has enjoyed the vital light of heaven. 
 Soft disengage, and back into the stream 
 The speckled captive throw. 
 
 Now, when the first foul torrent of the brooks 
 Swelled with the vernal rains, is ebbed away ; 
 And, whitening, down their mossy-tinctured 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, 
 Snatched from the hoary steed the floating line. 
 And all thy slender, watery stores prepare. 
 But let not on thy hook the tortured worm, 
 Convulsive, twist in agonizing folds ; 
 
 But should you lure 
 From his dark haunt, beneath the tangled roots 
 Of pendent 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 darta along. 
 Deep struck, and runs out all the lengthened line ; 
 Then seeks the farthest ooze, the sheltering weed. 
 The cavcrned bank, his old secure abode ; 
 And flics aloft, and flounces round the poid. 
 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 &t« abandoned, to the shore 
 You gayly drag your unresisting prize. 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Thus pass the temperate hours ; but when the si 
 Shakes from his noon-day throne the scatterir 
 
 clouds. 
 E'en shooting listless languor through the deeps, 
 Then seek the bank where flowering elders crowd, 
 Where scattered 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 reclined beneath yon spreading ash, 
 Hung o'er the steep ; whence, borne on liquid win 
 The sounding culver shoots ; or where the hawk. 
 High, in the beetling cliff, his eyry builds. 
 There let the classic page thy fancy lead 
 Through rur.al scenes, such as the Mantuan swain 
 Paints in the matchless harmony of song ; 
 
 Orcat.-h |i i^.iri',. 1 1-:,].., '-IMiiig swift 
 
 Athwail , -_i i - 
 
 Orby tl,> ' : , I . , hilled, 
 
 AndlM.t II, I. -11. 1., iiiiinn,,,. Ill I'l-' .hvam. 
 Confused, of careless solitude, where mix 
 Ten thousand wandering images of things, 
 "Soothe every gust of passion into peace ; 
 All but the swellings of the scftened heart. 
 That waken, not disturb, the tranquil mind. 
 
 I the Muse 
 I can paint 
 
 i skill, 
 
 Behold yon bretitliini; prn 
 Throw .all her beii\itv Iniih. 
 Like Nature? Can iiuaiin: 
 Amidst its gay evcatiMH. Imi 
 Or can it mix them iviil, il,i 
 And lose them in r-irl, , ihrr, ii. iqipfars 
 In every bud that bluwa ? It laiicy, then, 
 Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task, 
 Ah, whiit shall language do ? ah, where find words 
 Tinge<l with so many colors, and whose power. 
 To life approaching, may perfume my lays 
 AVith that fine oil, those aromatic gales, 
 That inexhaustive flow continual round ? 
 
 LOVK ; AJIiNDA i MORKISG WALK WITU HER, GATIIEEISG 
 
 will the toil delight. 
 
 1 V v.aiths, whose hearts 
 
 Yet, though 
 Come, then, yi 
 Have felt the ra|-hii. ■ I .• '', m l..vo ; 
 And thou, Amaiala, ■ ■n ■ . , i i i luy si 
 Formed by the (u II ' ' I. ■ ii-'lf 
 
 Come with tli"-r (|.,uii>M I i . I.n. II 
 
 Those hii.h. .Iriii,,,,-, tliiii .|>. ; , , , 
 
 Where, Ullh llir imiil nl la, i._. : . 
 
 Shines lively laliey aud thu U.rlin^ li. a.l 
 0, come ! and while the rosy-footed May 
 Steals blushing on, together let us tread 
 
 e was a native of Mantua, 
 
 i(p), in classic mytholoiry, 
 )f .iupitcr, and namet] Eu- 
 leypersonilied beauty, taste, 
 
 The morning dews, and gather in their prime 
 Fresh-blooming flowers,' to grace thy braided ha 
 And thy loved bosom that improves their sweets 
 
 See, where the winding vale its lavish stores 
 Irriguous spreads. See, how the lily drinks 
 The latent rill, scarce oozing through the grass 
 Of growth luxuriant ; or the humid bank. 
 In fair profusion, decks. Long let us walk, 
 Where the breeze blows from yon extended field 
 Of blossomed beans. Arabia cannot boast 
 A fuller gale of joy, than, liberal, thence [soul. 
 
 Breathes through the sense, and takes the ravished 
 Nor is the mead unworthy of thy foot. 
 Full of fresh verdure and unnumbered flowers. 
 The negligence of Nature, wide, and wild ; 
 Where, undisguised by mimic Art, she spreads 
 Unbounded beauty to the roving eye. 
 Here their delicious task the fervent bees, 
 In swarming millions, tend ; around, athwart. 
 Through 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. 
 
 THE GARDEN IS SPRING. — THE BOWERY WALK THE 
 
 At length the finished garden to the view 
 
 Its vistas opens, and its alleys green. 
 
 Snatched through the verdant maze the hurried eye 
 
 Distracted wanders ; now the bowery walk 
 
 Of covert close, where scarce a speck of day 
 
 Falls on the lengthened gloom, protracted sweeps ; 
 
 Now meets the bendinjj; s!<y ; tin- rh it now 
 
 Dimpling along, the bnr/y'iuih d luki', 
 
 The forest darkening mnnd, tliv >;litliaing spire, 
 
 The 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 unnumbered dyes ; 
 The yellow wall-flower, stained with iron brown ; 
 And lavish stock that scents the garden round. 
 From the soft wing of vernal breezes shed. 
 Anemones : auriculas, enriched 
 With shining meal o'er all their velvet leaves ; 
 And full ranunculus, of glowing red. 
 Then comes the tulip-race, where Beauty plays 
 Her idle freaks ; from family diffused 
 To family, as flics the father-dust. 
 The varied colors run ; and, while they break 
 
SPRING — MARCH. 
 
 On the charmed eye, the exulting florist marks, 
 With secret prido, the wonders of his hand. 
 No gradual bloom is wanting ; from the bud, 
 First-bom of Spring, to Summer's musky tribes : 
 Nor hyacinths, of purest virgin white, 
 Low bent, and blushing inward ; nor jonquils, 
 Of potent fragrance ; nor Narcissus' fair. 
 As o'er the fabled fountain hanging still ; 
 Nor broad carnations, nor gay-spotted pinks ; 
 Nor, showered 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. 
 
 ASCRIPTION OP PRAISE TO THE ACTHOR OF NATURE. — THE 
 
 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 touched. 
 By Thee the various vcgetiitive tribes. 
 Wrapt in a filmy net, and clad with leaves. 
 Draw the live ether and imbibe the dew ; 
 By Thee disposed 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 fermenttition, mounting, spreads 
 All this innumerous-colored scene of things. 
 
 THE ANIMAL WORLD J ITS VARIED VOICES OF LOVE. — THE 
 
 As rising from the vegetable world 
 My theme ascends, with equal wing ascend. 
 My panting Muse ! and hark, how loud the woods 
 Invito you forth in all your gayest trim. 
 Lend me your song, ye nightingales ! 0, pour 
 The mazy-running soul of melody 
 Into my varied verse ! while I deduce. 
 From the fii-st note the hollow cuckoo sings. 
 The symphony of Spring, and touch a theme 
 Unknown to fame — the Passion of the Groves. 
 
 — l...VK-SiiN(.s OF THE LARK ; THRUSH j 
 
 \fhca first the soul of love i 
 
 I'arm thrcn^h the vital nir, a 
 
 At lir-t laiiii-iv:ii M-l , liiii ii'i iH-r grows 
 
 The soft iufusiuu pruvaloiit and wide. 
 Than, all alive, at once their joy o'erflows 
 In music imconfined. Up springs the lark, 
 
 • A benutiful youth, who, in punishment fnr his indiffer- 
 ence to love, was futilLHl to have been caused to become 
 ennmored of tiis own iinjijie reflected in a spring ; and after 
 pinnlg to death fur luve of it, to have been chanped into the 
 pensile flower which bears his name 
 
 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, tree irregular, and bush 
 
 Bending with dewy moisture o'er the heads 
 
 Of the coy choristers that lodge within. 
 
 Are prodigal of harmony. The thruFh 
 
 And wood-lark, o'er tli. llnl ..,,;. , liu' throng 
 
 Superior heard, run tin I i Ivngth 
 
 Of notes; when listens _ i'. - i i„-iis 
 
 To let them joy, and |iin|. - , im !|i i^lit 
 
 Elate, to make her night c.\cel their Jay. 
 
 The black-bird whistles from the thorny brake ; 
 
 The mellow bulfinch answers from the grove ; 
 
 Nor are the linnets, o'er the flowering furze 
 
 Poured out profusely, silent. Joined 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 through the whole. 
 
 COURTSHIP OF BIRBS. 
 
 'T is love creates their melody, and all 
 Tliis waste of music is the voice of love, 
 Th.it e'en 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, 
 
 Their colors burnish, and by hopu inspired. 
 They brisk advance ; then, on a sudden struck. 
 Retire disordered ; then again approach ; 
 In fond rotation spread the spotted wing. 
 And shiver every feather with desire. 
 
 THE BCILDINO OF NESTS. — THE VARIOUS PLACES CHOSEH 
 
 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 obeyed, 
 Nor all the sweet sensations they perceive 
 Indulged in vain. Some to the holly-hedgo 
 Nestling repair, and to the thicket some ; 
 Some to the rude protection of the thorn 
 Commit their feeble oTspring. The cleft tree 
 O.Ters its kind concealment to a few. 
 Their food its insoeti, 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, 
 
 brotJicr-ln-lnw, was fabled to have 
 
 because Philomela, the 
 bflnj: dishonored by her 
 changed into this 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 In unfrequented glooms, or shaggy banks, 
 
 Steep, aiKl .livldcd ],y ;i l.;.liblin- i.runk, 
 
 "Whose niuMimr- .-n'i|ln> tlidn all tin.' live-long day, 
 
 When l.y knid duly li.xr<|- Ai„m,- the roots 
 
 Of hazel, \n-udvui uVr tiie iiiainlive stream. 
 
 They frame the first foundation of their domes ; 
 
 Dry sprigs of trees, in artful fabric laid, 
 
 And bound with clay together. Now 't is naught 
 
 But restless hurry through the busy air, 
 
 Beat by unnumbered 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 unobserved. 
 
 Steal from the barn a straw ; till, soft and warm, 
 
 Clean and complete, their habitation grows. 
 
 As thus the patient dam assiduous sits, 
 
 ot to be tempted from her tender task 
 
 Or by sharp hunger, or by smooth delight. 
 
 Tho 
 Her s\ 
 High. 
 
 I Spring around her blo^ 
 ikes his stand 
 ik, and ceaseless sings 
 r else supplies 
 
 To pick the scanty meal. The appointed time 
 
 With pious toil fulfilled, the callow young, 
 
 Warmed and expanded into perfect life, 
 
 Their brittle bondage break, and come to light, 
 
 A helpless family, demanding food 
 
 With constant clamor. 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 formed of generous mould. 
 
 And charmed with cares beyond the vulgar breast. 
 
 In some lone cot, amid the distant woods, 
 
 Sustained alone by providential Heaven, 
 
 Oft, as they weeping eye their infant train. 
 
 Check their own appetites, and give them all. 
 
 Nor toil alone they scorn ; exalting love, 
 By the great Father of the Spring inspired. 
 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 neighboring bush they silent drop. 
 And whirring thence, as if alarmed, deceive 
 The unfeeling school-boy. Hence, around the head 
 Of wandering swain, tin' \\liit(-\\in,L;vd ploverwheels 
 Her sounding fli.L-lit, ami linn dinrily on 
 
 To tempt him fn.m Ikt m.-t. i'lm wild duck hence, 
 O'er the rough moss, and o'er the trackless waste 
 Tho heath-hen, flutters, pious fraud I to lead 
 The hot-pursuing spaniel far astray. 
 
 THE CAGING OP Bl 
 
 Be not the Muse ashamed here to bemoan 
 Her brothers of the grove, by tyrant Man 
 Inhuman caught, and in the narrow cage 
 From liberty confined, 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. 
 0, 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 ! 
 
 THE bird's nest BOBBED. — GRIEF OF THE PARENT BIRDS. 
 
 But let not chief the nightingale lament 
 Her mined care, too delicately framed 
 To brook the harsh confinement of the cage. 
 Oft when, returning with her loaded bill, 
 The astonished mother finds a vacant nest, 
 By the bard hand of unrelenting elowns 
 Robbed, to the ground the vain provision falls ; 
 Her pinions ruffle, and, low-drooping, scarce 
 Can bear the mourner to the poplar shade ; 
 Where, all abandoned to despair, she sings 
 Her sorrows through 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 feathered 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. 
 'T is on some evening, sunny, grateful, mild, [woods, 
 AVhen naught but balm is breathing through the 
 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 stretched, to trast the void 
 Trembling refuse ; till down before them fly 
 The parent guides, and chide, exhort, command, 
 Or push them off. The surging air receives 
 Its plumy burdou ; and their self-tauixht wings 
 
 Roused into life and action, light in air 
 The 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 
 
SPRING — MARCH. 
 
 Oq utmost Kilda'ai shore, whose lonely raco 
 Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds, 
 The royal eagle draws his vigorous young. 
 Strong-pounced, and ardent with paternal firo. 
 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, 
 Unstained he holds, while many a league to sea 
 Ko wings his course, and preys in distant isles. 
 
 THE rOrXO OF Tira POCLTRT-TABD. — THE ROOK ; HEX i 
 
 Should I my fir\>< tmti t^. t!i<' rural seat, 
 ■\Vhoso lofty elms, :i 111 vhrmLi. >,;iks, 
 Invito the rook, \\\\^' ln-h :iiiii<l tin' tmughs, 
 In early Spring, lii^ airy -.-ily Ijuiidir^, 
 And ceaseless caws amusive ; there, well-pleased, 
 I might the various polity survey 
 Of the mixed household kind. The careful hen 
 Calls all her chirping family around, 
 Fed and defended by the fearless cock, 
 AVhose breast with ardor flames, as on he walks, 
 Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond 
 The finely-checkered duck before her train 
 Rows garrulous. The stately-sailing swan 
 Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale ; 
 Aud» arehin;; proud his neck, with oary feet 
 lit'iirs fiirwurd licrce, and guards his osier-isle, 
 Prntrctive of his young. The turkey nigh, 
 Lnvid threatening, reddens; while the peacock spreads 
 His every-colored 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-scorched, 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 through the mazy wood 
 Dejected wanders, nor the enticing bud 
 Crops, though it presses on his careless sense. 
 And oft, in jealous maddening fancy rapt. 
 He seeks the fight, an<l, idly butting, feigns 
 Uis rival gored in every knotty trunk. 
 Him should he meet, the bellowing war begins : 
 Their eyes flash fury ; to the hollowed earth, 
 Whence the sand ilies, they mutter bloody deeds. 
 And, groaning deep, the impetuous battle mix : 
 While the fair heifer, balmy-breathing, near. 
 Stands kindling up their rage. 
 
 THE HORSE IN SPRING. —HIS nBADLOSG PASSION. 
 
 Tho trembling steed, 
 With this hot impulse seized in every nerve, 
 
 1 The farthest of the Western Islands of Scotland. 
 
 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 wide he bursts away ; 
 O'er rocks, and woods, and craggy mountains flies, 
 And, neighing, on the aerial summit takes 
 Tho exciting gale ; then, steep-descending, cleavei 
 The headlong torrents foaming down tho hills. 
 E'en where the madness of the straitened stream 
 Tiums in black eddies round : such is the force 
 With which his frantic heart and sinews swell. 
 
 Xur uii.lrlii^litrd l.y the boundless Spring 
 Are till III I ;i>l 111. I n -Ins of the foaming deep : 
 From rip W. r|, ,,./> ;ujd gelid cavern roused, 
 Thoy tlniiiH-- aiLii tiiiiiljlu in unwieldy joy. 
 Dire were the strain, aud dissonant, to sing 
 The cruel raptures of the savage kind ; 
 How, by this flame their native wrath sublimed. 
 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, enraptured, to tho British Fair, 
 Forbids, and leads me to the mountain brow. 
 Where sits the shepherd on the grassy turf. 
 Inhaling, healthful, the descending sun. 
 Around him feeds his many-bleating flock. 
 Of various cadence ; and his sportive lambs, 
 This way and that convolved, in friskful glee, 
 Their frolics 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, 
 M'hen 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 heads ; 
 And o'er our labors Liberty and Law, 
 Impartial, watch ; tho wonder of a world ! 
 
 CREATIVt: I.OVE. — INSTINCT. —SPRING, THE SMILE OF COD. 
 
 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, per^-ades. 
 Adjusts, sustains, and agitates the whole. 
 He ceaseless works alone ; and yet alone 
 Seems not to work : with such perfection framed 
 Is this complex, stupendous scheme of things. 
 But, though (^ncealed, to every purer eye 
 The 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. 
 
KURAL POETRY. 
 
 And, annual, molts their undesigning hearts 
 Profusely thus in tenderness and joy. 
 
 Still let my song a nobler note assume, 
 And sing the infusive force of Spring on Man ; 
 When heaven and earth, as if contending, vie 
 To raise his being, and serene his soul. 
 Can ho forbear to jniii i'.f ^.tucihI smilo 
 Of Nature? Can ti. m ,. |,;, ..„.,,- >,a his breast, 
 
 While every gale is i-.- , ;mm1 .--i y ,i;rove 
 
 Is melody? Hcucu I lium thu Ijvunti'uus walks 
 
 Of flowing Spring, ye sordid sons of earth, 
 
 Hard, and unfeeling of anothei-'s woe, 
 
 Or only lavish to yourselves, away ! 
 
 But come, ye generous minds, in whose wide thought, 
 
 Of all liis works, creative Bounty burns 
 
 ^Vitll warmest iK-ain ; and on your open front 
 
 And liberal eye sits, from his dark retreat 
 
 Inviting modest Want. Nor, till invoked. 
 
 Can restless Goodness wait ; your active search 
 
 Leaves no cold wintry corner unexplored ; 
 
 l;luwa fpiiug 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-eyed 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 tliciu;j;ht and contemplation still. 
 By switi 'l> ^M ' ' i!m I \ , ..f Nature works. 
 And \\:ii I' I 1 1 1 1 at last sublimed 
 To ra|iiir, . ,,! . 1,1 i.ii r-ii,- heat. 
 We feel t!iL |iii,.-ei.i Ikity, and taste 
 ■■IV of Uou to see a happy world ! 
 
 These are the sacred feelings of thy heart. 
 Thy heart informed by reason's purer ray, 
 Lyttelton,' the friend ! thy passions thus 
 And meditations vary, as at large, [stray'st ; 
 
 Coui'ting the Muse, through Hagley Park thou 
 Thy Brii.. Tempe 2 ! There, alons; the dale 
 
 1 George. Lord Lyttelton, -III' I - ! ~ii I' ini^. Rnr- 
 
 With woods o'erhung and shagged with mossy rocks, 
 
 Whence on each hand the gushing waters play. 
 
 And down the rough cascade white-dashing fall. 
 
 Or gleam in lengthened 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, and flocks, the birds. 
 
 The hollow-wliispering breeze, the plaint of rills. 
 
 That, purling down amid the twisted roots 
 
 Which creep around, their dewy murmurs shako 
 
 On the soothed 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 unwarped 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 refined, 
 
 You draw the inspiring breath of ancient song. 
 
 Till nobly rises, emulous, thy own. 
 
 Perhaps thy loved Lucinda shares thy walk. 
 With soul to thine attuned. Then Nature all 
 Wears to the lover's eye a look of love ; 
 And all the tumult of a guilty world, 
 Tossed 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 meekened sense and amiable grace 
 And lively sweetness dwell, enraptured, drink 
 That nameless spirit of ethereal joy, 
 Unutterable happiness ! which love 
 Alone bestows, and on a favored few. 
 
 THE PROSPECT AT HiCLET PiBK. 
 
 Meantime you gain the height from whose fair brow 
 The bursting prospect spreads, immense, around : 
 And snatched o'er hill and dale, and wood and lawn. 
 And verdant field, and darkening heath between. 
 And villages embosomed soft in trees. 
 And spiry towns by surging columns marked 
 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. 
 
 THE MAmEN IN SPKISG. — EFFECTS OF LOVE. — WA 
 
 Flushed by the spirit of the genial year. 
 Now from the virgin's cheek a fresher bloom 
 
SPRING — MARCH. 
 
 13 
 
 Shoots, loss and loss, tho livo carnation round j 
 Her lips blush deeper sweets : she breathes of youth ; 
 Tlie shining moisture swells into her eyes, 
 In brighter flow ; her wishing bosom heaves 
 With palpitations wild ; kind tumults seize 
 Uer veins, and all her yielding soul is love. 
 From tho keen gaze her lover turns away, 
 Full of the dear ecstatic power, and sick 
 M'ith sighing languishmcnt. Ah, then, yo fair ! 
 Bo greatly cautious of your sliding hearts : 
 Dare not tho infectious sigh, the pleading look. 
 Downcast and low, in meek submission dressed, 
 But full of guile. Let not the fervent tongue. 
 Prompt to deceive, with adulation smooth. 
 Gain on your purposed will. Nor in tho bower, 
 AVhcro woodbines flaunt, and roses shed a couch. 
 While Evening draws her crimson curtains round, 
 Trust your soft minutes with betraying man. 
 
 Yonrn waksed from lawless lovk. — its e.\brv.itu.o 
 
 And let tho aspiring youth beware of love. 
 Of tho smooth glance beware ; for 't is too late 
 When on his heart tho torrent-softness pours. 
 Then wisdom prostrate lies, and fading fame 
 Dissolves in air away ; while the fond soul, 
 Wrapped in gay visions of unreal bliss. 
 Still paints the illusive form ; the kindling grace ; 
 The enticing smile ; the modest seeming eye. 
 Beneath whose beauteous bcanit!, belying heaven, 
 Lurk scarehless cunning, cruelty, and death ; 
 And still, falsc-warbling in his cheated ear, 
 Her sirt.-ii \ li . I ti i'laijiiiLr. draws him on 
 Toguil.ln! , ..is of fatal joy. 
 
 E'en] 1 : . , i . ■...^ l;ipofl.:.vc 
 
 Ingloriiiii- 1... I , V. 111].' ii..i'i.. Hows around, 
 Perfumes, and oils, and wine, and wanton hours ; 
 Amid the roses fierce Repentance rears 
 Her snaky crest : a quick-returning pang [still 
 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, aroused. 
 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 scorned affairs. 
 'T is naught but gloom around ; tho darkened sun 
 Loses his light ; the rosy-bosomed Spring 
 To weeping fancy pines ; and yon bright arch. 
 Contracted, bends into a dusky vault. 
 All Nature fiwlcs extinct ; and she alone. 
 Heard, felt, and seen, possesses every thought. 
 Fills every sense, and pants in every vein. 
 Books are but fonnal dulness, tedious friends ; 
 And sad amid tho social band he sits. 
 Lonely, and unattcntivc. From his tongue 
 Tho unfinished period falls : while, borne away 
 On swelling thought, his waflod spirit flies 
 
 To the vain bosom of his distant fair ; 
 And leaves the semblance of a lover, fixed 
 In melancholy site, with head declined. 
 And love-dojeeted eyes. Sudden he starts. 
 Shook from his tender trance, and restless runs 
 To glimmering shades and sympathetic glooms ; 
 Where tho 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 ho consumes the day. 
 Nor quits his deep retirement, till the moon 
 Peeps throH^h the chambei-s of the fleecy cast, 
 EnliL'l.t. H. .1 1.. li _-..■. -s, and in her train 
 I'.:. I I _ II lli.urs; then forth he walks, 
 i!. .1' I ' I I i i . 1 1 u' languish of her beam, * 
 
 Willi II. iM .1 -...il. iiii.l woos the bird of eve 
 To miji^'lu woes with his ; or, while the world 
 And all the sons of Care lie hushed in sleep, 
 Associates with tho midnight shadows drear ; 
 And, sighing to the lonely taper, pours 
 His idly-tortured heart into the page 
 Meant for the moving messenger of love ; 
 Where rapture burns on rapture, every line 
 With rising frenzy fired. 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 gray morn 
 Lifts her pal,e lustre on the paler wretch, 
 Exanimate by love : and then perhaps 
 Exhausted nature sinks tt while to rest. 
 Still interrupted by distracted dreams. 
 That o'er the sick imagination rise, 
 And in black colors paint the mimic scene. 
 
 Oft with the enchantress of his soul ho talks ; 
 Sometimes in crowds distressed ; or if retired 
 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. 
 Snatched from her yielded hand, he knows not how. 
 Through forests huge, and long untravclled heaths 
 With desolation brown, ho wanders waste. 
 In night and tempest wrapped ; or shrinks aghast. 
 Back, from the bending precipice ; or wades 
 The turbid stream below, and strives to reach 
 Tho further shore ; where, succorless and sad. 
 She with extended anna his aid implores ; 
 But strives in vain ; borne by the outrageous flood 
 To distance down, he rides the ridgy wave. 
 Or whelmed beneath tho boiling eddy sinks. 
 
 These are the charming agonies of love, 
 Whoso misery delights. But through tho heart 
 Should jealousy its venom onco diffuse. 
 
RURAL POETRY. THOMSON. 
 
 'T is then delightful misery no more, 
 
 But agony unmixed, 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-enlivened cheeks. 
 
 Of sunny features, and of ardent eyes 
 
 With flowing rapture bright, dark looks succeed, 
 
 Suflfused and glaring with untender fire ; 
 
 A clouded aspect, and a burning cheek, 
 
 "Where the whole poisoned 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 consimiing 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; 
 
 AVhile anxious doubt distracts the tortured heart : 
 
 For e'en 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 evered rapture, or of cruel care ; 
 
 His brightest aims extinguished all, and all 
 
 His lively moments running down to waste. 
 
 A HAPPY MARBIAGE UNION. — SELFISH PASSION ; TRUE LOVE. 
 
 But happy they ! the happiest of their kind ! 
 AYhom gentler stars unite, and in one fate 
 Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. 
 'T is 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 enlivened by desire 
 Ineffable, and sympathy of soul ; 
 Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will. 
 With boundless confidence : for naught 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 possessed 
 Of a mere lifeless violated form : 
 While those whom love cements in holy faith, 
 And equal transport, free as Nature live. 
 Disdaining fear. ^\Tiat 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-illumined 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 the enlivening spirit, and to fix 
 The generous purpose in the glowing breast. 
 
 0, 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, I 
 
 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. 
 Enamored more as more remembrance swells 
 With many a proof of recollected love. 
 Together down they sink in social sleep ; 
 i Together freed, their gentle spirits fly 
 I To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign. 
 
|);istor;ils for \\n #rst llfck of Itarcl). 
 
 SPENSER'S "MARCH." 
 
 
 
 Thomalin, have no care for-thy. 
 
 AN ECLOGUE. 
 
 Myself will have a double eye 
 
 A II r. U M E K T . 
 
 Ylike to my flock and thine ; 
 
 
 For, alas ! at homo I have a sire, 
 
 to discourse of love, described here as a person. One of 
 
 A stopdame eke, as hot as fire, 
 
 them relates a story of his haying discovered him lately, 
 hid in a bush, and of his being wounded by him. 
 
 That duly adays counts mine. 
 
 Tbomalin, why sittcn wo so 
 As weren overwent with woo, 
 
 THOUALLV. 
 
 Nay, but thy seeing will not serve ; 
 
 My sheep for that may chance to swerve, 
 
 
 And fall into some mischief ; 
 
 Upon so fiiir ft morrow? 
 The joyous time now nigheth fast 
 That shall alegg this bitter blast, 
 
 
 For sithens is but the third morrow 
 That I chaunst to fall asleep with sorrow, 
 
 And slake the Winter sorrow. 
 
 And waked again with grief ; 
 
 
 The while thilk same unhappy ewe, 
 
 TnOJlALIS. 
 
 Whose clouted leg herself doth shew. 
 
 Siker, Willy, thou warnest well ; 
 
 Fell headlong into a dell, 
 
 For Winter's wrath begins to quell, 
 
 And then unjointed both her bones ; 
 
 And pleasant Spring appeareth ; 
 
 Mought her neck been jointed attones, 
 
 The grass now 'gins to bo rcfresht, 
 
 She should have need no more spell ; 
 
 The swallow peeps nut of her nest. 
 
 Th' elf was so wanton and so wood. 
 
 And cloudy welkin clcareth. 
 
 (But now I trow can better good) 
 
 WILLT. 
 
 She mought no gang on the green. 
 
 Seest not thilk same ha>rthorn stud. 
 
 WILLY. 
 
 How bragly it begins to bud 
 
 Let be as may be that is past ; 
 
 And utter his tender head ? 
 
 That is to come let bo forecast ; 
 
 Flora now callcth forth each flower. 
 
 Now tell us what thou hast seen. 
 
 AwD.i.U ,n:,k.- yr:,.\y Maia's bowcr. 
 
 
 Th^t „.« .- „|.n-. Inanbed: 
 
 THOMALIK. 
 
 Tho.-hall «.. ,-|„„|.n „■ delight. 
 
 It was upon a holy-day. 
 
 And learn with Lettiee to wex light 
 
 When shepherd's grooms han leave to play, 
 
 That scornfully looks askaunee ; 
 
 I cast to go a shooting ; 
 
 Tho will we little Love awake. 
 
 Long wandering up and down tho land, 
 
 That now siccpcth in Lethe lake. 
 
 With bow and bolts in either hand. 
 
 And pray hini leaden our dauncc. 
 
 For birds in bushes tooting ; 
 
 
 At length, within the ivy tod 
 
 TnoMAl.lN. 
 
 (There shrouded was tho little god) 
 
 Willy, I ween thou be a sot ; 
 
 I heard a busie bustling ; 
 
 For lusty Love still sleepeth not. 
 
 I bent my bolt against the bush. 
 
 But is abroad at his game. 
 
 Lisfning if anything did rush. 
 
 WILLY 
 
 But then heard no more lustling. 
 
 How kenst thou that ho is awoke? 
 
 Tho peeping close into the quick, 
 
 Or hast thyself his slumber broke? 
 Or made privy to tho same? 
 
 Whose shape appeared not, 
 
 But, were it fairy, fiend, or snake. 
 
 
 My courage earn'd it to awake. 
 
 TIIOMALIS. 
 
 And manfully thereat shot : 
 
 No ; but happily I him spido. 
 
 With that sprang forth a naked swain, 
 
 flTien in a bush ho did him hide, 
 
 With spotted wings like peacock's train. 
 
 With wings of purple and blue ; 
 
 And, laughing, lope to a tree ; 
 
 And were not that my sheep would straj-. 
 
 His gilden ((uivor at his back, 
 
 The privy marks I would bewray 
 
 And silver bow which was but slack. 
 
 Whereby by chance I him knew. 
 
 Which lightly ho bent at me : 
 
16 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — SPENSER — GRAY. 
 
 ' pi'iy* 
 
 That seeing, I levelled again, 
 
 And shot at him with might and mam, 
 
 As thick as it had hailed. 
 So long I shot that all was spent. 
 Though pumy stones I hastily hent. 
 
 And threw, but nought availed. 
 He was so nimble and so wight, 
 From bough to bough he leaped light. 
 
 And oft the pumies latched : 
 Therewith, afraid, I ran away ; 
 But, he that earst seemed but t 
 
 A shaft in earnest snatched, 
 And hit me, running, in the heel 
 For then I little smart did feel. 
 
 But soon it sore increased ; 
 And now it rankleth more and m 
 And inwardly it festreth sore, 
 
 Ne wot I how to ceaso it. 
 
 Thomalin, I pity thy plight ! 
 
 Perdy with Love thou diddest fight, — 
 
 I know him by a token ; 
 For once I heard my father say 
 How he him caught upon a day 
 
 (Whereof he will be wroken) 
 Entangled in a fowling-net. 
 Which he for carrion crows had set. 
 
 That in our pear-tree haunted ! 
 Tho said he was a winged lad, 
 But bow and shafts as then none had, 
 
 Else had he sore be daunted. 
 But, see ! the welkin thicks apace, 
 And stooping Phoebus steeps his face, — 
 
 It 's time to haste us homeward. 
 
 WILLY'S ESIBLEM. 
 
 iunted scarce to gods . 
 thomalin's EMBLESI. 
 
 * VICISSITUDE: 
 
 THE HARMONY OF NATURAL AND MORAL CHANGES. 
 A LYRIC IDVL. 
 
 Now the golden morn aloft 
 
 Waves her dew-bespangled wing, 
 AVith vermil cheek and whisper soft, 
 
 She woos the tardy Spring ; 
 Till April starts, and calls around 
 The sleeping fragrance from the ground. 
 And lightly o'er the living scene 
 Scatters his freshest, tenderest greeu. 
 
 New-born flocks, in rustic dance 
 
 Frisking, ply their feeble feet ; 
 Forgetful of their wintry trance, 
 
 The birds his presence greet : 
 But chief the skylark warbles high 
 His trembling, thrilling ecstasy ; 
 And, lessening from the dazzled sight. 
 Melts into air and liquid light. 
 
 Yesterday the sullen year 
 
 Saw the snowy whirlwind fly ; 
 Mute was the music of the air, 
 
 The herd stood drooping by ; 
 Their raptures now, that wildly flow. 
 No yesterday nor morrow know ; 
 'T is man alone that joy descries. 
 With forward and reverted eyes. 
 
 Smiles on past misfortune's brow 
 
 Soft reflection's hand can trace, 
 And o'er the cheek of sorrow throw 
 
 A melancholy grace : 
 WTiile hope prolongs our happier hour ; 
 Or deepest shades, that dimly lower, 
 And blacken round our weary way, 
 Gilds with a gleam of distant day. 
 
 iY TO THE ABOVE. 
 
 I surely ; quell, diminish in 
 i utter, ])ut forth ; Mala, 
 
 Still where rosy pleasure leads, 
 
 See a kindred grief pursue. 
 Behind the steps that misery treads 
 
 Approaching comfort view : 
 The hues of bliss more brightly gl >w 
 Chastised by sabler tints of woe ; 
 And blended form, with artful strife, 
 The strength and harmony of life. 
 
 hertla •, han, have ; cast, in..! i ■. ■ ■: .i :..■,-, i . .i . 
 
 in;?, seeking ; tod, thick Ihih.Ii , ., [. ,, : ■ ._ im I. , ■ .,i ..M, 
 
 moved; lope, leaped ; giMni, ^-ili ; [niiii) , |.ii ■ ; li.di, 
 
 gathered up, took up ; wimble, shilting ; wi^'lit, i\yuck, en- 
 ergetic ; hatched, caught ; earst, at first, before ; wote, 
 know ; perdy, par Dieu, verily ; wroken, revenged ; tho, 
 at that time } be, been } Plioebus, the suu } steeps, descends 
 
 See the wretch that long has tost 
 
 On the thorny bed of pain. 
 At length repair his vigor lost. 
 
 And breathe and walk again ! 
 The meanest flow'ret of the vale, 
 The simplest note that swells the gale 
 The common sun, the air, tho skies, 
 To him are opening Paradise. 
 
SPRING — MARCH. 
 
 THEOCRITOS'S "DAPHNIS." 
 
 J. M. CHAPMAN, M.i 
 
 Sweet is the music wliicli the whispering pine 
 Maiccs to the murmuring fountain ; sweet is thine, 
 Breathed from the pipe : the second prize thy duo — 
 To Pan, the horned ram ; to thee, the ewe ; 
 And thine the yearling, when the ewe he talces — 
 A savory mess the tender yearling makes. 
 
 Sweeter thy song than yonder gliding down 
 Of water from the rock's o'orhanging crown ; 
 If a ewe-sheep for fee the Aluses gain, 
 Thou, shepherd ! shalt a stall-fed lamb obtain ; 
 But if it rather please the tuneful nine 
 To take the lamb, the ewe shall then be thine. 
 
 0, wilt thou, for the Nymphs' sake, goatherd ! fill 
 Thy pipe with music on this sloping hill, 
 Where grow the tamarisks ? Wilt sit, dear friend, 
 And play for me while I thy goats attend ? 
 
 We must not pipe at noon in any case ; 
 For then Pan rests him, wearied from the chase. 
 Him, quick to wrath, wo fear, as us befits ; 
 On his keen nostril sharp gall ever sits. 
 But thou — to thee the griefs of Daphnis known, 
 .And the first skill in pastoral song thine own — 
 Come to yon elm, into whose shelter deep 
 Afront Priapus and the Naiads peep — [seat : 
 
 Where the thick oaks stand round the shepherd's 
 There, sitting with me in that cool retreat, 
 If thou wilt sing 03 when thou didst content 
 With Lybian Chromis which could sing the best, 
 Tliine, Thyrsis, this twin-bearing goat shall be, 
 That fills two milk-pails thrice a day for me ; 
 And this deep ivy-cup, with sweetest wax 
 Bedewed, twin-eared, that of the graver smacks. 
 Around its lips lu-sh ivy twines on high. 
 Sprinkled with drops of bright cassidony ; 
 And as the curling ivy spreads around. 
 On every curl the saflron fruit is found. 
 With flowing robe and Lydian head-dress on. 
 Within, a woman to the life is done — 
 An exquisite design ! on either side 
 Two men with flowing locks each other chide. 
 By turns contending for the woman's love ; 
 But not a whit her mind the pleadings move. 
 One while she gives to this a glance and smile. 
 And turns and smiles on that another while. 
 
 ' Dnphnis, s 
 
 Mercury, was ! 
 
 shepherd i 
 
 This beautiful poem is the first of the Idyls of Theocritus, 
 who aourishol in the latter pan of the third century B. C. 
 He is called the father of pastoral poetry, such .-is the * ec- 
 lo^e,' * bucolic,' * idyl,' * pastoral,* &c., and is imitjited by 
 all other writers of i>astorals, from Virgil downwards. But 
 the Hebrew idyl, calltU * Solomon's Song,' is earlier by seven 
 hundred years, and the pofltoral poem of *Job' is still more 
 ancient. — J. 
 
 But neither any certain favor gains — 
 
 Only their eyes are swollen for their pains. 
 
 Hard by, a rugged rock and fisher old, 
 
 Who drags a mighty net, and seems to hold, 
 
 Preparing for the cast : he stands to sight, 
 
 A fisher putting forth his utmost might. 
 
 A youth's strength in the gray-head seems to dwell. 
 
 So much the sinews of his neck ouUwell. 
 
 And near that old man with his sea-tanned hue. 
 
 With purple grapes a vineyard shines to view. 
 
 A little boy sits by the thorn-hedge trim. 
 
 To watch the grapes — two foxes watching him : 
 
 One through the ranges of the vines proceeds, 
 
 And on the hanging vintage slyly feeds ; 
 
 The other plots and vows his scrip to search. 
 
 And for his breakfast leaves him — in the lurch. 
 
 Meanwhile he twines and to a rush fits well 
 
 A locust-trap, with stalks of asphodel ; 
 
 And twines away with such absorbing glee, 
 
 Of scrip or vines ho never thinks — not he ! 
 
 The juicy, curled acanthus hovers round 
 
 Th' ^Eolian cup — when seen a marvel found. 
 
 Hither a Caledonian skipper brought it. 
 
 For a great cheese-cake and a goat I bought it ; 
 
 Untouched by lip, this cup shall be thy hire. 
 
 If thou wilt sing that song of sweet desire, 
 
 I envy not : begin ! the strain outpour ; 
 
 'T will not be thine on dull Oblivion's shore. 
 
 Begin, dear Muses ! the bucolic strain ; 
 For Thyrsis sings, your own ^tnean swain. 
 Where were ye, nymphs! when Daphnis pined away, 
 Where through his Tempe Peneus ' loved to stray, 
 Or Pindus lifts himself? Ye were not here — 
 Where broad Anapus flows or Acis' clear, 
 Or where tall JEtna looks out on the main. 
 
 Begin, dear Muses ! the bucolic strain : 
 From out the mountain-lair the lions growled. 
 Wailing his death — the wolves and jackals howled. 
 
 Begin, dear Muses ! the bucolic strain : 
 Around him, in a long and mournful train. 
 Sad-faced, a number of the horned kind. 
 Heifers, bulls, cows, and calves, lamenting pined. 
 Begin, io. 
 
 First, Hermes 3 from the mountain came and said: 
 " Daphnis, by whom art thou disquieted? 
 For whom dost thou endure so fierce a flame ? " 
 
 Begin, Ac. 
 Then cowherds, goatherds, shepherds, thronging came, 
 And asked what ailed him. E'en Priapus < went. 
 And said: " Sad Daphnis, why this languishment? 
 In every grove, by fountains far and near. 
 
 Begin, Ac. 
 Thee the loved girl is seeking everywhere. 
 
 1 s 3 4 Peneus is a river flowing from Mount Pindus through 
 Tempe, a valley of Thessaly ; Anapus and Acis arc streams 
 of Sicily -, Hermes is the Greek for Mercury ; Priapus was 
 the god of gardens. 
 
18 
 
 RURAL POETRY. THEOCRITUS. 
 
 Ah, foolish lover ! to thyself unkind, 
 Miscalled a cowherd, with a goatherd's mind ! 
 
 Begin, Ac. 
 The goatherd, when he sees his goats at play, 
 Envies their wanton sport, and pines away. 
 And thou, at sight of virgins, when they smile. 
 Dost looli with longing eyes, and pine the while, 
 Because with them the dance thou dost not lead." 
 No word he answered, but his grief did feed. 
 And brought to end his love, that held him fast. 
 And only ended with his life at last. 
 
 Begin, &c. 
 Then Cypris^ came, the queen of soft desire, 
 Smiling in secret, but pretending ire. 
 And said : "To conquer love did Daphnis boast ; 
 But, Daphnis, is not love now uppermost ? " 
 
 Begin, Ac. 
 Her answered he : " Thou cruel sorrow-feeder . 
 Curst Cypris ! mankind's hateful mischief-breeder ! 
 'T is plain my sun is set : but I shall show 
 The blight of love in Hades' house below. 
 
 ' Where Cypris kissed a cowherd ' — men will speak — 
 Hasten to Ida ! thine Anchises^ seek ! 
 Around their hives swarmed bees are humming here. 
 Here the low galingale — thick oaks are there. 
 
 Begin, &o. 
 Adonis, the fair youth, a shepherd too. 
 Wounds hares, and doth all savage beasts pursue. 
 
 Begin, &c. 
 Go ! challenge Diomede to fight with thee — 
 < I tame the cowherd Daphnis, fight with me.' 
 
 Begin, &a. 
 Ye bears, who in the mountain hollows dwell. 
 Ye tawny jackals, bounding wolves, farewell ! 
 The cowherd Daphnis never more shall rove 
 In quest of you, through thicket, wood, and grove ! 
 Farewell, ye rivers, that your stream profuse 
 From Thymbris' pour ! farewell, sweet Arethuso ! 
 
 Begin, Ac. 
 I drove my kino — a cowherd whilome here — 
 To pleasant pasture, aud to water clear. 
 
 Begin, &c. 
 
 1 Voims, parliculai-ly worshipped on the island of Cyprus, 
 whence she is called the Paphian queen, the Cyprian queen, 
 and Cypris. . , , 
 
 2 Daphnis, determined not to yield to the passion of love, 
 with which Venus, the goddess of Love, afflicted him even to 
 death, taunts her with Anchises, Adonis, and Diomede, her 
 lovers at various times. See the Classical Dictionaries. 
 
 3 Thymbris is the name of a mountain of Sicily. 
 
 Pan ! Pan ! ' if seated on a jagged peak 
 
 Of tall Lyncaeus = now ; or thou dost seek 
 
 The height of Maenalus^ — leave them a while, 
 
 And hasten to thy own Sicilian isle. 
 
 The tomb which ever gods admire leave now — 
 
 Lycaon's-* tomb and Helice'sS tall brow. 
 
 Cease, cease, ye Muses ! the bucolic strain. 
 Hasten, my king ! and take this pipe that clips," 
 Uttering its honey breath, the player's lips. 
 For even now, dragged downward, must I go. 
 By love dragged down to Hades' house below. 
 
 Cease, cease, ye Muses, &c. 
 Now violets ye thorns and brambles bear ! 
 Narcissus now on junipers appear ! 
 And on the pine-tree pears ! Since Daphnis dies. 
 To their own use all things be contraries ! 
 The stag trail hounds ; in rivalry their song 
 The mountain-owls with nightingales prolong ! " 
 
 Cease, cease, Ac. 
 He said, and ceased : and Cypris wished, indeed. 
 To raise him up, but she could not succeed ; 
 His fate-allotted threads of life were spent. 
 And Daphnis to the doleful river' went, [scorned, 
 The whirlpool gorged him — by the Nymphs not 
 Dear to the Muses, and by them adorned. 
 
 Cease ! cease, ye Muses ! the bucolic strain. 
 Give me the cup and goat that I may drain 
 The pure milk from her ; and, for duty's sake, 
 A due libation to the Muses make. 
 All hail, ye Muses ! hail, and favor me. 
 And my hereafter song shall sweeter be. 
 
 Honey and honey-combs melt in thy mouth, 
 And figs from AegilusS ! for thou, dear youth. 
 The musical cicada ^ dost excel. 
 Behold the cup ! how sweetly doth it smell ! 
 'T will seem to thee as though the lovely Hours 
 Had newly dipt it in their fountain showers. 
 Hither, Cissaetha! milk her! yearling friskers. 
 Forbear — behold the ram's huge beard and whiskers! 
 
 td personification of ( 
 
 ; god of shepherds, 
 
 ; world of shades. 
 
 J for the best tips. 
 i several varieties. 
 
Ijcsioii's "(ilGrhs ani) Hai) 
 
 900 TO 1000 B. C. 
 TRANSLATED FKOM THE GKEEK BY C. A. ELTON. 
 
 THE AGES OF HUMANITY. 
 
 FKOM "WORKS," PARI I. 
 
 When gods alike and mortals rose to birth, 
 A golden race tiie immortals formed on earth 
 Of many-languaged men ; they lived of old, 
 When Saturn reigned in heaven, an age of gold. 
 Like gods they lived, with calm, untroubled mind ; 
 Free from the toils and anguish of our kind : 
 Nor e'er decrepid age misshaped their frame, — 
 The hand's, the foot's proportions still the same. 
 Strangers to ill, their lives in feasts flowed by ; 
 Wealthy in flocks ; dear to the blest on high : 
 Dying thoy sank in sleep, nor seemed to die. 
 Theirs was each good ; the life-sustaining soil 
 Yielded its copious fruits, unbribed by toil ; 
 They with abundant goods, midst quiet lands. 
 All willing shared the gatherings of their hands. 
 
 When earth's dark womb had closed this race 
 around, [ground. 
 
 High Jove as da^nons' raised them= from the 
 Earth-wandering spirits ' they their charge began. 
 The ministers of good,< and guards of man. 
 Mantled with mist of darkling air they glide, 
 And compass earth, and pass on every side ; 
 And mark, with earnest vigilance' of eyes, 
 Where just deeds live, or crooked wrongs arise ; 
 Their kingly state ;" and, delegate from heaven, 
 By their vicarious hands the wealth of fields is given. 
 
 1 The dtemons, or daimonts, amon^ the ancients, were 
 spirits, either goal nr had. Our modern word denious is 
 always used in a bad sense. 
 
 - An immortality of the soul is here distinctly enunci- 
 ated, and also the origin of angels from the human race. 
 
 3 Compare J<ib 1 : 7. 
 
 < Compare lUb. 1 : 14 ; Gen. 19 : 1, 16 ; 17 : 2, 8 ; 
 2 Kings 6 : 17. 
 
 1 Compare Daniel 4 : 17 i 1 Corinthians 4: 9; Colos- 
 sians2: 18. 
 
 » That is, ' their state is kingly,' Implying, says Elton, 
 the ' administration of forensic justice.' The original — 
 and it is the closing sentence of the description — is simply, 
 *iind thev (got or) had this kingly (gift, endowment) of- 
 tiie ; • wh'ifh m.'ans. :is 1 uml.isniii.l il. Hit- truly kingly oflicc 
 of biinir sutis, I'liaritMh", l'i"!^, 'T d>-;il' is nf gcxKls, benefac- 
 
 nmn. '^'rvuiii'iVo Uiko 23; 25 j .Murk 10 : 44 ; Rom. la : 
 
 The gods then formed a second race of man, 
 Degenerate far ; and silver years began. 
 Unlike the mortals of a golden kind : 
 Unlike in frame of limbs and mould of mind. 
 Yet still a hundred years beheld the boy 
 Beneath the mother's roof, her infant joy ; 
 All tender and unformed • but when the flower 
 Of manhood bloomed, it withered in an hcmr. 
 Their frantic follies wrought them pain and woe 
 Nor mutual outrage could their hands forego ; 
 Nor would they serve the gods ; nor altars raise 
 That in just cities shed their holy blaze. 
 Them angry Jove ingulfed ; who dared refuse 
 The gods their glory and their sacred dues ; 
 Yet named the second-blest in earth they lie, 
 And second honors grace their memory. 
 
 The Sivp ..f l,.-!ivi.ii and earth created then 
 A r;ir, , tlf (iiii 1 1 niiiiiy-lauguaged men. 
 T'nlikL-ili' -iK'i i!n y: uf brazen mould, 
 Willi a-lLrii iv:ii->iii ;ns, terrible and bold ; 
 Their thoughts were bent on violence alono. 
 The deeds of battle, and the dying groan. 
 Bloody their feasts, with wheaten food unblest ; 
 Of adamant was each unyielding breast. 
 Huge, nerved with strength, eaeh hardy giant stands, 
 And mocks approach with unresisted hands : 
 Their mansions, implements and armor shino 
 In brass ; dark iron slept within the mine. 
 They by each other's hands inglorious fell, 
 In freezing darkness plunged, the house of hell ; 
 Ficrccthouglitli. v«. IV, ili.ir iimrtal course was run; 
 Death gloomy s<i/'> I :ui4 -n.it- lud them from the sun. 
 
 Them when the abyss had covered from the skies 
 Lo ! the fourth ago on nurturing earth arise : 
 Jove formed the race a lu-tter, juster line ; 
 A race of her.n- ;iirl -I -i.hii|. divine ; 
 Lights of the :i_- 1 il ! I. our own; 
 
 As demigods mVi - ,u i i > .;i"n known. 
 
 Y'et these dread ijattle huriied to tlieir end : 
 Some where the seven-fold gates of Thebes a.scend ; 
 The Cadmian realm, where they with fatal miglit 
 Strove for the flocks of iEdipus in fight. 
 
20 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — HESIOD. 
 
 Some war in naties led to Troy's far shore ; 
 
 O'er the great space of sea their course they bore ; 
 
 For sake of Helen with the beauteous hair : 
 
 And death for Helen's sake o'erwhelmed them there. 
 
 Them an earth's utmost verge the god assigned 
 
 A life, a seat distinct from human kind : 
 
 Beside the deepening whirlpools of the main, 
 
 In those blest isles where Saturn holds his reign, 
 
 Apart from heaven's immortals : calm they share 
 
 A rest unsullied by the clouds of care : 
 
 And yearly thrice with sweet luxuriance crowned, 
 
 Springs the ripe harvest from the teeming ground. 
 
 0, would that Nature had denied me birth 
 Midst this fifth raee ; this iron age of earth : 
 That long before within the grave I lay. 
 Or long hereafter could behold the day ! 
 Corrupt the race ; with toils and griefs opprest, 
 Nor day nor night can yield a pause of rest. 
 Still do the gods a weight of care bestow. 
 Though still some good is mingled with the woe. 
 Jove on this race of many-languaged man, 
 Speeds the swift ruin which but slow began : 
 For scarcely spring they to the light of day, 
 Ere age untimely strews their temples gray. 
 No fathers in the sons their features trace : 
 The sons reflect no more the fathers' face ; 
 The host with kindness greets his guest no more. 
 And friends and brethren love not as of yore. 
 Reckless of heaven's revenge, the sons behold 
 The hoary parents wax too swiftly old : 
 And impious point the keen dishonoring tongue, 
 With hard reproofs and bitter mockery hung : 
 Nor, grateful, in declining age repay 
 The nurturing fondness of their better day. 
 Now man's right hand is law : for spoil they wait. 
 And lay their mutual cities desolate. 
 Unhonored he by whom his oath is feared ; 
 Nor are the good beloved, the just revered. 
 "With favor graced the evil-doer stands. 
 Nor curbs with shame nor equity his hands ; 
 With crooked slanders wounds the virtuous man, 
 And stamps with perjury what hate began. 
 Lo ! ill-rejoicing Envy, winged with lies. 
 Scattering calumnious rumors as she flies, 
 The steps of miserable men pm'sue 
 With haggard aspect, blasting to the view. 
 Till those fair foiTOS in snowy raiment bright 
 Leave the broad earth, and heavenward soar from 
 Justice and Modesty from mortals driven, [sight : 
 Rise to the immortal family of heaven : 
 Dread sorrows to forsaken man remain ; 
 No cure of ills, no remedy of pain.' 
 
 ANCIENT GREEK HUSB.UsDRY. 
 
 FROM "WORKS," PART II. 
 
 When, Atlas-born, the Pleiad stars arise * 
 Before the sun above the dawning skies, 
 'T is time to reap ; and when they sink below 
 The morn-illumined West, 't is time to sow. 
 Know too they set, immerged into the sun. 
 While forty days entire their circle run ; 
 And with the lapse of the revolving year, 
 When sharpened is the sickle, reappear. 
 Law of the fields, and known to every swain 
 AVho turns the fallow soil beside the main ; 
 Or who, rciiii'tr finiii liillnwr ocean's gales. 
 Tills the ri.l. ul-lr .il in] l-winding vales. 
 
 Plough iiiil.ril- ^lill, iiii.l Hiikcd sow the soil. 
 And naked i^aii ; il kimlly tn thy toil 
 Thou hope to gather all that Ceres yields. 
 And view thy crops in season crown the fields ; 
 Lest thou to strangers' gates penurious rove. 
 And every needy effort fruitless prove. 
 
 That I shall give or lend thee of my store. 
 
 0, foolish Perses ! be the labors thine 
 AMiioh the good gods to earthly man assign ; 
 Lr-I nitli thy >|iniise, thy babes, thou vagrant ply, 
 A II' I -mhi.w in- 'iinr those arms which all deny. 
 'r\M' ■ iii:i> iii\ I'liiints benignant favor gain. 
 Anil liiiiily ilii iir in:iy not be poured in vain ; 
 If still persisting plead thy wearying prayer. 
 Thy words are naught, thy eloquence is air. 
 Did exhortation move, the thought should be. 
 From debt releasement, days from hunger free. 
 
 PROVIDE WELL ; AVOID ffiLENKSS AND PEOCRASTINATIO!!. 
 
 A house, a woman, and a steer provide. 
 Thy slave to tend the cows, but not thy bride. 
 Within let all fit implements abound. 
 Lest, with refused entreaty wandering round. 
 Thy wants still press, the season glide away. 
 And thou with scanted labor mourn the day. 
 Thy task defer not till the moon arise. 
 Or the third sun the unfinished work surprise ; 
 The idler never shall his garners fill. 
 Nor he that still defers and lingers still. 
 Lo ! diligence can prosper every toil ; 
 The loiterer strives with loss, and execrates the soil. 
 
 ■\Vhen rests the keen strength of the o erpowering 
 From heat that made the pores in rivers run ; [sun, 
 
 I This was, then, about May 11 ; their cosmical setting 
 was early in November ; their heliacal, on April 3d. 
 
 ' That is, stripped of the outer garments, as the word is 
 used John 21 : 7 ; Conip. Mat. 24 : 18. The precept is equiv- 
 alent to saying, Do your work thorouglily and earnestly ■, 
 ' strip to it,' and keep at it diligently, for winter is coming. 
 
21 
 
 When rushes in fresh rains autumnal Jove, 
 And man's unburthencd limbs now lighter move ; 
 For now the star of day with transient light 
 Rolls o'er our hoads and joys in longer night ; 
 M'hcn frcm the wnrm the forest boles are sound, 
 TriM- l.iiil iH. iiiui.', hut earthward cost around 
 Tlirir wiih'-i in;; l'..li;ii;e, then remember well 
 The tiiii..l.v lal)ni-. iLud thy timber fell. 
 
 Hew from the wood a mortar of three feet, 
 
 CWiwr mui,y-ear\ra l>lnrks tliy ^^h<■>A t-. round, 
 And let three spans its utmust orbit bouud ; 
 AVhereon slow-rolling thy suspended wain, 
 Ten spans in breadth, may traverse firm the plain. 
 
 HOW TO MAKE A PLOUGH. 
 
 If hill or field supply a holm-oak bough 
 Of bending figure like the downward plough, 
 Bear it away : this durable remains 
 While the strong steers in ridges cleave the plains : 
 If with firm nails thy artist join the whole, 
 Affix the share-beam, and adapt the pole. 
 
 Two ploughs provide, on household works intent, 
 This art-compacted, that of native bent : 
 A prudent forethought : one may crashing fail, 
 The other, instant yoked, shall jjrompt avail. 
 Of elm or bay the draught-polo firm endures ; 
 The plough-tail holm, the share-beam oak secures. 
 
 PROPER AGE FOR ' 
 
 PLOUG&MAS. 
 
 Two males procure : be nine their sum of years : 
 Tli> II !i,ih.i;il -1 I.I I i;x for toil the sturdy steers : 
 N I i-trong-struggling spurn the soil 
 
 Ai ■ , , I -li and mar the unfinished toil, 
 
 hi i.^.i[\\- [-;uii^ iiiy ploughman : one with bread 
 Of fuur-stjuared luaf in double portions fed. 
 He steadily shall cut the furrow true, 
 Nor towards his fellows glance a rambling view ; 
 Still on his task intent : a stripling throws 
 Heedless the seed, and in one furrow strews 
 The lavish handful twice ; while wistful stray 
 His longing thoughts to comrades far away. 
 
 Mark yearly, when among the clouds on high 
 Thou hear'st the shrill crane's migratory cry. 
 Of ploughing time the sign and wintry rains : 
 Care gnaws his heart who destitute remains 
 Of the fit yoke ; for then the season fulls 
 To feed thy horned sti-crs within their stalls. 
 
 Easy to speak the word, " Bosoeoh thee friend ! 
 Thy waggon and thy yoke of oxen lend : " 
 Easy the prompt refutsal ; ** Nay, but I 
 Have need of oxen, and their work is nigh." 
 
 Rich in bis own conceit, be then too late 
 May think to rear the waggon's timbered weight : 
 Fool ! nor yet knows the complicated frame 
 A hundred seasoned blocks may fitly claim : 
 These let thy timely care provide before, 
 And pile beneath thy roof the ready store. 
 Improve the season, to the plough apply 
 Both thou and thine ; and toil in wet and dry : 
 Haste to the field with break of glimmering mom, 
 That so thy grounds may wave with thickening com. 
 
 SOWlNn. — BKUGIOl-8 BITES TO BE DIXV OBSKRVBD. 
 
 Ill .spring upturn the glebe : and break again 
 With sunuuLT tilth the iterated plain. 
 It shall nut mock thy hopes : be lost thy toil. 
 Raised in light ridge, to sow the fallowed soil : 
 The fallowed soil bids execration fly, 
 And brightens with content the infant's eye. 
 
 Jove subterrcne,! chaste Ceres claim thy vow. 
 When, grasping first the handle of the plough, 
 O'er thy broad oxen's backs thy quickening hand 
 With lifted stroke lets fall the goading wand ; 
 Whilst, yoked and harnessed by the fastening thong, 
 They slowly drag the draught-pole's length along. 
 So shall the sacred gifts of earth appear. 
 And ripe luxuriance clothe the plenteous ear. 
 
 A boy should tread thy steps : with rake o'erlay 
 The buried seed, and scare the birds away. 
 
 PLENTY TOE RESULT OF A KIND PROVIDENCE AND GOOD 
 
 Good is the apt economy of things. 
 While evil management its mischief brings : 
 Thus, if aerial Jove ^ thy cares befriend. 
 And crown thy tillage with a prosperous end. 
 Shall the rich ear in fulness of its grain 
 Nod on the stalk and bend it to the plain. 
 So shalt thou sweep the spider's films away. 
 That round thy hollow bins lie hid from day ; 
 I ween ; rejoicing in the foodful stores 
 Obtained at length, and laid within thy doors : 
 For plenteousness shall glad thee through the year 
 Till the white blossoms of the spring appear : 
 Nor thou on others' heaps a gazer be, 
 But others owe their borrowed store to thee. 
 
 If, ill-advised, thou turn the genial plains. 
 His wintry tropic when the sun attains ; 
 Thou, then, mayst reap, and idle sit between : 
 Mocking thy gripe the meagre stalks are seen : 
 Whilst, little joyful, gather'st thou in bands 
 The com whose chaffy dust bestrews thy hands. 
 In one scant basket shall thy harvest lie, 
 And few shall pass tliee, then, with honoring eye. 
 
 3 be due. Ceres w 
 
 1 of crops, grain, and flowers. 
 
22 
 
 RURAL POETRY. ■ 
 
 Now thus, now otherwise is Jove's design ; 
 To men inscrutable the ways divine ; 
 But if thou late upturn the furrowed field, 
 One happy ohance a remedy may yield. 
 O'er the wide earth when men the cuckoo hear 
 From spreading oali-leaves first delight their ea 
 Three days and nights let heaven in ceaseless ra 
 Deep as thy ox's hoof o'erflow the plains ; 
 So shall an equal crop thy time repair 
 With his who earlier launched the shining share 
 Lay all to heart : nor let the blossomed hours 
 Of spring escape thee ; nor the timely showers. 
 
 Pass by the brazier's forge where loiterers meet, 
 Nor saunter in the portico's thronged heat ; 
 When in the wintry season rigid cold 
 Invades the limbs and binds them in its hold, 
 Lo ! then the industrious man, with thriving store, 
 Improves his household management the more : 
 And this do thou : lost intricate distress 
 Of winter seize, and needy cares ojipress : 
 Lest, famine-smitten, thou, at liiii;tli, In- seen 
 To gripe thy tumid foot niih liiiml Im.iii luiiiycr lean. 
 Pampering his empty b.iii.>. v.t iir,.<liii- food. 
 On ill designs behold thu i.ll.-i l.iood : 
 Sit in the crowded portico and feed 
 On that ill hope, while starving with his need. 
 Thou in midsummer to thy laborers cry, 
 " Make now your nests," for summer hours will fly. 
 
 A WINTER STORM FEOM THE NORTH DESCRIBED. — SHELTER. 
 
 Beware the January month ; beware 
 Those hurtful days, that keenly-piercing air 
 Which flays the herds ; those frosts that bitter sheathe 
 The nipping air, and glaze the ground beneath. 
 From Thraoia, nurse of steeds, comes rushing forth, 
 O'er the broad sea, the whirlwind of the north, 
 And moves it with his breath : then howl the shores 
 Of earth, and long and loud the forest roars. 
 He lays the oaks of lofty foliage low. 
 Tears the thick pine-trees from the mountain's brow. 
 And strews the valleys with their overthrow. 
 He stoops to earth ; shrill swells the storm around, 
 And all the vast wood rolls a deeper roar of sound. 
 The beasts their cowering tails with trembling fold. 
 And shrink and shudder at the gusty cold ; 
 Thick is the hairy coat, the shaggy skin. 
 But that all-chilling breath shall pierce within. 
 Not his rough hide can then the ox avail : 
 The long-haired goat defenceless feels the gale : 
 Yet vain the north-wind's rushing strength to wound 
 The flock, with thickening fleeces fenced around. 
 He bows the old man, crooked beneath the storm ; 
 But spares the smooth-skinned virgin's tender form. 
 Yet from bland Venus' mystic rites aloof, 
 She safe abides beneath her mother's roof : 
 The suppling waters of the bath sho swims. 
 With shining ointment sleeks her dainty limbs ; 
 
 In her soft chamber pillowed to repose. 
 
 While through the wintry nights the tempest bio 
 
 Now gnaws the boneless polypus his feet ; 
 Starved midst bleak rooks, his desolate retreat : 
 For now no more the sun with gleaming ray 
 Through seas transparent lights him to his proy. 
 O'er the swarth .^thiop rolls his bright career. 
 And slowly gilds the Grecian hemisphere. 
 And now the horned and unhorned kind. 
 Whoso lair is in the wood, sore-famished grind 
 Their sounding jaws, and frozen and quaking fly 
 Where oaks the mountain dells imbranch on high : 
 They seek to eouch in thickets of the glen. 
 Or lurk deep-sheltered in the rocky den. 
 Like aged men, who, propped on crutches, tread. 
 Tottering with broken strength and stooping head. 
 So move the beasts of earth ; and, creeping low. 
 Shun the white flakes and dread the drifting snow. 
 
 I warn thee, now, around thy body cast 
 A thick defence, and covering from the blast : 
 Let the soft cloak its woolly warmth bestow : 
 The under-tunio to thy ankle flow : 
 On a scant warp a woof abundant weave ; 
 Thus warmly-woven the mantling cloak receive : 
 Nor shall thy limbs beneath its ample fold 
 With bristling hairs start shivering to the cold. 
 Shoes from the hide of a strong-dying ox 
 Bind round thy feet; lined thick with woollen socks: 
 And kid-skins 'gainst the rigid season sew, 
 AVith sinew of the bull, and, sheltering, throw 
 Athwart thy shoulders when the rains impend ; 
 And let a well-wrought cap thy head defend, [scend. 
 And screen thine ears while drenching showers de- 
 
 Bleak is the morn when blows the north from high ; 
 Oft when the dawnlight paints the starry sky, 
 A misty cloud suspended hovers o'er 
 Heaven's blessed earth with fertilizing store 
 Drained from the living streams : aloft in air 
 The whirling winds the buoyant vapor bear, 
 Resolved at eve in rain or gusty cold. 
 As by the north the troubled rack is rolled. 
 Preventing this, the labor of the day 
 Accomplished, homeward bend thy hastening way : 
 Lest the dark cloud, with whelming rush deprest. 
 Drench thy cold limbs, and soak thy dripping vest. 
 
 This winter month with prudent caution fear : 
 Severe to flocks, nor less to men severe ; 
 Feed thy keen husbandman with larger bread : 
 With half their provender thy steers be fed : 
 Them rest assists : the night's protracted length 
 Recruits their vigor and supplies their strength. 
 This rule observe, while still the various earth 
 Gives every fruit and kindly seedling birth ; 
 
SPRING — MARCH. 
 
 23 
 
 Still to tho toil proportionate the choor, 
 The day to night, and equalize the year. 
 
 "When from tho wintry tropic of the sun ^ 
 Full sixty (lays thuir finished round have run, 
 Lo ! then tho saorod deep Arcturus leave, 
 First whole-apparent on tho verge of eve. 
 Through the gray dawn the swallow lifts her wing, 
 Mom-plaining bird, the harbinger of spring. 
 
 Anticipate tho time : tho cnro be thino 
 An earlier day tn jn m,- fin !i - l^i_- \ ine. 
 When the housi'-lM I! I ^^Iy found 
 
 To shun the Pleiii'l I' i i i; i iIr- ground,' 
 
 And climb the pbuif till !■ m, m i-i no more 
 To dress the vine, but give the vineyard o'er. 
 Whet the keen sickle, hasten every swain, 
 From shady booths, from morning sleep refrain. 
 Now, in the fervor ut' tin- har\. -t-.lay. 
 VHien the strong mim ,1i-.,.|\, - riir iVaiiR- away. 
 Now haste afield ; ii^w ImimI ih_\ ^h-'afy corn. 
 And earn thy food hy ri.-in;; witli the morn. 
 Lo ! the third portion of thy labor's cares 
 Tho early morn anticipating shares: 
 In early mom the labor swiftly wastes : 
 In early morn the speeded journey hastes. 
 The time when many a traveller tracks the plain, 
 And the yoked oxen bond them to the wain. 
 
 When the green artichoke ascending flowers, 
 ^Vhen, in tho sultry season's toilsome hours. 
 Perched on a branch, beneath his veiling wings, 
 The loud cicada shrill and frequent sings ; 
 Then the plumi) goat a savory food bestows, 
 The poignant wine in mellowest flavor flows : 
 Wanton the blood then bounds in woman's veins, 
 But weak of man tho beat enfeebled reigns. 
 Full on his brain d'Mrmls tlu- s.^lar flame, 
 Unnerves the laii;;ui'i km , -, :i!i.l all tho frame, 
 Exhaustive, dries n\\:iy n, thru, Iiu thine 
 
 And goal's inilK, -tiniil I iMm the kid, to slake 
 Thy thirst, ami . :ii iIm -li- [.hord'screamy cake : 
 The flesh nt" iir\\-.liM],f kM-^ and youngling cows, 
 That, never teeming, eropt the forest browse. 
 With dainty food so saturate thy soul. 
 And drink the wine dark-mautling in the bowl : 
 While in the cool and breezy gloom reclined 
 Thy face is turned to catch the breathing wind ; 
 And feel the freshening brook, whoso living stream 
 Glides at thy foot with clear and sparkling gleam : 
 Three parts its waters in thy cup should flow, 
 The fourth with brimming wine may mingled glow. 
 
 ^ The winter solstice, in the time of Heslod, occurred on 
 the 30th December. The rising of Arcturus toolt place on 
 Uie 5tli of March, 
 
 3 A thin. Thraclan wine 
 
 iXTS ; DOG } FODDEB. 
 
 "Wheni first Orion's beamy strength is born, 
 Let then thy laborers thresh tho sacred corn : 
 Smooth bo the level floor, on gusty ground, 
 Where winnowing gales may sweep in eddies round. 
 Hoard in thy ample bins the meted grain : 
 And now, as I advise, thy hireling swain 
 From forth thy house dismiss, when all the store 
 Of kindly food is laid within thy door : 
 And to thy service let a female come ; 
 But childless, for a child were burthensoine. 
 Keep, too, a sharp-toothed dog, nor thrifty spare 
 To feed his fierceness high with generous fart', 
 Lost the day-slumbering thief thy nightly door 
 Wakeful besiege, and pilfer from thy store. 
 For ox and mule tho yearly fodder lay 
 Within thy loft ; tho heapy straw and hay : 
 This care despatched, refresh the bending knees 
 Of thy tired hinds, and give thy unyoked oxen ease. 
 
 ^^'hen Sirius and Orion the mid-sky 
 Ascend, and on Arctums' looks from high 
 The rosy-fingered mnrn, tho vintage cnll.< : 
 Then bear tlo- -.-il,. n^.l _.,i|H.- ^^;rl,;,, tl,v walls. 
 Ten days an-l i,i ; . i |,,y 
 
 Basked in tlii I. _ i ,v : 
 
 Let five their Til ■ h:,.^^ i..u:,.l ■ ,i. ■■■>■. h. ■■ m,,, 
 WTiilst lie thy fraiU oVrshadod from the .sun : 
 The sixth in vats tho gifts of Bacchus press ; [ncss. 
 Of Bacchus* gladdening earth with store of pleasant- 
 
 But when beneath tho skies on morning's brink 
 The Pleiads, Ilyads, and Orion sink ;3 
 Know tlien the ploughing and the seed-time near : 
 Thus well-disposed shall glide thy Rustic Year. 
 
 HESIOD'S "BAYS." 
 
 ANCIENT StH'ERSTITIONS COSXECTED WTTO THK DAYS OP TOE 
 MONTH, AS LCCKY OR CSLCCKT. 
 
 Thy household teach a decent heed to pay, 
 And well observe each Jove -appointed day. 
 
 The thirtieth < of the moon inspect with care 
 Thy servants' tasks, and all their rations share : 
 What time the people to the courts repair.* 
 These days obey the all-wise Jove's behc-^t : 
 The first new moon, the fourth, the seventh is blest: 
 Phojbus, on this, from mild Latona born. 
 The golden-swordod god, beheld the mora. 
 
 
 of the Pleiads 
 
 f.Tuly. 
 
 the French, during their first re 
 were held in the 
 in the afternoon. 
 
 well as the Orientals, 
 ivfl. The Greek month 
 ys ; this wiis cnpiet) by 
 
24 
 
 KURAL POETRT. HESIOD. 
 
 The eighth, nor less the ninth, with favoring skies, 
 Speeds of the increasing month each rustic enterprise ; 
 And on the eleventh let thy Bocks be shorn, 
 And on the twelfth be reaped thy laughing corn. 
 Both days are good : yet is the twelfth confest 
 More fortunate, with fairer omen blest. 
 On this the air-suspended spider treads 
 In the full noon his fine and self-spun threads ; 
 And the wise emmet, tracking dark the plain. 
 Heaps provident the store of gathered grain. 
 On this let careful woman's nimble hand 
 Throw first the shuttle and the web expand. 
 
 On the thirteenth forbear to sow thy grain ; 
 But then the plant shall not be set in vain. 
 The sixteenth profitless to plants is deemed, 
 Auspicious to the birth of men esteemed ; 
 But to the virgin shall unprosperous prove, 
 Then born to light, or joined in wedded love. 
 
 So to the birth of girls with adverse ray 
 The sixth appears, an unpropitious day ; 
 But then the swain may fence his wattled fold. 
 And cut his kids and rams ; male births shall then 
 This day is fond of biting gibes and lies, [be bold. 
 And jocund tales, and whispered sorceries. 
 
 Cut on the eighth the goat, and lowing steer. 
 And hardy mule ; and when the noon shines clear, 
 Seek on the twenty-ninth to sow thy race, 
 For wise shall be the fruit of thy embrace. 
 
 The tenth propitious lends its natal ray 
 To men, to gentle maids the fourteenth day : 
 Tame, too, thy sheep on this auspicious morn, 
 And steers of flexile hoof and wreathed horn. 
 And labor-patient mules ; and mild command 
 Thy sharp-toothed dog with smoothly-flattering hand. 
 
 Tne fourth and twenty-fourth no grief should prey 
 Within thy breast, for holy either day. 
 
 Fourth of the moon lead home thy blooming bride, 
 And be the fittest auguries descried. 
 
 Beware the fifth, with horror fraught and woe : 
 'T is said the furies walk their round below. 
 Avenging the dread oath ; whose awful birth 
 From discord rose, to scourge the perjured earth. 
 
 On the smooth threshing-floor, the seventeenth 
 Observant throw the sheaves of sacred corn : [morn. 
 For chamber furniture the timber hew. 
 And blocks for ships with shaping axe subdue. 
 
 The fourth upon the stocks thy vessel lay. 
 Soon with light keel to skim the watery way. 
 The nineteenth mark among the better days. 
 When past the fervor of the noontide blaze. 
 Harmless the ninth : 't is good to plant the earth, 
 And fortunate each male and female birth. 
 Few know the twenty-ninth, nor heed the rules 
 To broach their casks, and yoke their steers and mules 
 And fleet-hoofed steeds ; and on dark ocean's way 
 Launch the oared galley ; few will trust the day. 
 
 Pierce on the fourth thy cask ; the fourteenth prize 
 As holy ; and when morning paints the skies. 
 The twenty-fourth is best — few this have known — 
 But worst of days when noon has fainter grown. 
 
 These are the days of which the careful heed 
 Each human enterprise will favoring speed : 
 Others there are, which intermediate fall, 
 Marked with no auspice and unomencd all : 
 And these will some, and those will others praise, 
 But few are versed in mysteries of days. 
 In this a step-mother's stern hate we prove, 
 In that the mildness of a mothei-'s love. 
 
 0, fortunate the man ! 0, blest is he 
 IVlio, skilled in this, fulfils his ministry : 
 He to whose note the auguries are given. 
 No rite transgressed, and void ofblame to Heaven ! 
 
liiral ([^cs for :^'narr() 
 
 BRYANT'S "MARCH." 
 
 AN IDYLLIC ODE. 
 The stormy March is como at last, 
 
 With wind and cloud and changing skies 
 I hear the rushing of the blast 
 
 That through the snowy valley flies. 
 
 Ah, passing few are they who speak, 
 Wild, stormy month ! in praise of thee ; 
 
 Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak. 
 Thou art a welcome month to me. 
 
 For thou to northern lands again 
 
 Tlie glad and glorious sun dost bring. 
 And thou hast joined the gentle train 
 
 And wear'st the gentle name of Spring. 
 And, in thy reign of blast and storm, 
 
 Smiles many a long, bright, sunny day, 
 MTicn the changed winds are soft and warn: 
 
 And heaven puts on the blue of May. 
 
 ing 
 
 And Mir lull -|iiiiij-, tVum frost set free. 
 That, l..i_'liil> h., 1.1114 il.iwn the hills, 
 Aruju-t srt i„it tiimrc-tthesea. 
 
 The year's departing beauty hides 
 Of wintry storms the sullen threat ; 
 
 But in thy sternest frown abides 
 A look of kindly promise yet. 
 
 Thou bring'st the hope of those ealra skies, 
 And that soft time of sunny showers. 
 
 When the wide bloom on earth that lies 
 Seems of a brighter world than ours. 
 
 BION'S "EVENING STAR." 
 
 AN IDYLLIC ODE. 
 TRANSLATED BY J. M. CHAPMAS, M.A. 
 
 Hesper ! sweet Aphrodite's golden light ! 
 Hesper ! bright ornament of swarthy night. 
 Inferior to the moon's clear sheen, as far 
 As thou outshinest every other star ; 
 Dear Hesper, hail ! and give thy light to me. 
 Leading the festive shepherd company. 
 For her now course to-day began the moon. 
 And is already set — 0, much too soon ! — 
 'T is not for impious theft abroad I stir, 
 Nor to waylay the nightly traveller : 
 I love ; and thou, bright stai of love ! shouldst lend 
 The lover light — his helper and his friend. 
 
 BURNS'S "MOUNTAIN DAISY." 
 Wee, modest orimson-tipped flower. 
 Thou 'st met me in an evil hour : 
 For I maun crush amang tho stourc 
 
 Thy slender stem. 
 To spare thee now is past my power. 
 
 Thou bonnie gem. 
 Alas ! 't Is no thy neebor sweet, 
 The bonnie lark, companion meet ! 
 Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet 
 
 Wi' speckled breast. 
 When upward springing, blythe, to greet 
 
 The purpling ea^t. 
 Cauld blew the bitter, biting North 
 Upon thy early, humble birth : 
 Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth 
 
 .\mid the storm. 
 Scarce reared atove the parent earth 
 
 Thy tender form. 
 The flaunting flowers our gardens yield. 
 High sheltering woods and wa's maun shield : 
 But thou, beneath the random bield 
 
 0' clod or stune. 
 Adorns the histie stibble-field. 
 
 Unseen, alane. 
 There in thy scanty mantle clad. 
 Thy snawie bosom sunward spread, 
 Thou lifts thy unassuming head 
 
 In humble guise ; 
 But now the share uptcars thy bed. 
 
 And low thou lies. 
 Such is the fate of artless maid. 
 Sweet floweret of the rural shade ! 
 By love's simplicity betrayed. 
 
 And guileless trust, 
 Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid 
 
 Low in the dust. 
 Such is the fate of simple bard. 
 On life's rough ocean luckless starred ! 
 Unskilful he to note the card 
 
 Of prudent lore. 
 Till billows rage, and gales blow hard. 
 
 And whelm him o'er. 
 Such fate to suffering worth is given. 
 Who long with wants and woes has striven, 
 By human pride or cunning driven 
 
 To misery's brink. 
 Till, wrenched of every stay but heaven, 
 
 He ruined sink ! 
 
RURAL POETRY. — MOSCHUS — THEOCRITUS. 
 
 E'en thou who moura'st the Daisy's fate, 
 That fate is thine — no distant date ; 
 Stern ruin's ploughshare drives elate 
 
 Full on thy bloom, 
 Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight, 
 
 Shall be thy doom. 
 
 GLOSSARY. 
 
 Wee, little ; maun, must j stoure, dust put in motion by 
 the wind ; neebor, neighbor -, weet, wetness ; cauki, cold ; 
 glinted, peeped brightly ; bield, shelter ; stane, stone ; his- 
 tie Btibble, dry stubble ; alane, alone : snawie, snowy. 
 
 MOSCHUS'Si ''CUPID A RUNAWAY." 
 
 AN IDYL. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY J. M. CHAPMAN, M.A. 
 
 Heb Eros thus proclaimed the Cyprian Queen : 2 
 If any one has in the highway seen 
 My straying Eros, and reports to me 
 His whereabouts, he shall rewarded be ; 
 A kiss for him ; but, if it shall betide 
 One bring Mm me, a kiss — and more beside. 
 Midst twenty ho is notable to view : 
 Not fair, but flamy is his dazzling hue ; 
 Sharp are his eyes, and flame their glanced fleet ; 
 His mind is wicked, but his speech is sweet. 
 His word and meaning are not like at all ; 
 His word is honey, and his meaning gall. 
 He is a mischievous, deceitful child ; 
 Beguiles with falsehood, laughs at the beguiled. 
 He has a lovely head of curling hair, 
 But saucy features, with a reckless stare. 
 His hands are tiny, but afar they throw. 
 E'en down to Dis^ and Acheron below. 
 Naked his form, his mind in covert lies ; 
 Winged as a feathered bird, he careless flies 
 From girls to boys, from men to women flits, 
 Sports with their heartstrings, on their vitals sits. 
 Small is his bow, his arrow small to sight, 
 But to Jove's court it wings its ready flight. 
 Upon his back a golden quiver sounds, 
 Full of sharp darts, with which e'en me he wounds. 
 All cruel things by cruel Love are done ; 
 His torch is small, yet scorches e'en the sun. 
 But, should you take him, fast and safely bind him. 
 And bring him to me with his hands behind him. 
 If he should weep, take heed — he weeps at will ; 
 But, should he smile — then drag him faster still ; 
 And, should he offer you a kiss, beware ! 
 Evil his kiss, his red lips poisoned are ! 
 
 1 Moschus was probably a pupil of Bion. Some scholars 
 make tliem contemporary with Theocritus ; others place 
 them a century later, at about 156 U. C. 
 
 ' Eros is the Greek for Cupid, god of love, son of Venug, 
 called ' Cyprian queen ' from Cyprus. See note 1, p. 18. 
 
 a Pluto, King of Hades, Hell, the Shades, the classic 
 spirit-world, of which Acheron was a river. 
 
 And should he say,, with seeming friendship hot, 
 "Accept my bow and arrows," touch them not ! 
 Tears, smiles, words, gifts, deceitful wiles inspire. 
 And everything he has is dipt in fire. 
 
 THEOCRITUS'S "DISTAFF.' 
 A LYRIC IDYL. 
 
 TRANSLATED BV J. M. CHAPMAN, 
 
 This sweet ditty was written to commend an ivory dis- 
 taff, which the poet, about to sail to Miletus, intended as a 
 present for Theugenis, the wife of Nicias, the physician. 
 Undei- the semblance of teaching the distaff what sort of a 
 mistress it is about to have, he cleverly and gracefully 
 
 . her husband. 
 
 Distaff ! quick implement of busy thrift, [gift ! 
 Which careful housewives ply, blue-eyed Athene's ^ 
 We go to rich Miletus, where is seen 
 The fane of Cypris 'mid the rushes green : 
 Praying to mighty Zeus,^ for voyage fair, 
 Thither to Nicias would I now repair, 
 Delighting and delighted by my host, 
 AVhom the sweet-speaking Graces love the most 
 Of all their favorites ; thee, distaff bright ! 
 Of ivory wrought, with art most exquisite, 
 A present for his lovely wife I take. 
 With her thou many various works shalt make ; 
 Garments for men, and such as women wear. 
 Of silk, whose color is the sea-bluo clear. 
 And she so diligent a housewife is, 
 That ever, for well-ankled Theugenis, 
 Thrice in a year are shorn the willing sheep 
 Of the fine fleeces, which for her they keep. 
 She loves what love right-minded women all ; 
 For never should a thriftless prodigal 
 Own thee with my consent ; 'twere shame and pity ! 
 Since thou art of that most renowned city,3 
 Built by Corinthian Archias erewhile, 
 The marrow of the whole Sicilian isle. 
 But in the house of that physician wise. 
 Instructed how by wholesome remedies 
 From human kind diseases to repel. 
 Thou shalt in future with lonians dwell, 
 In beautiful Miletus ; that the fame 
 For the best distafi" Theugenis may claim, 
 And thou ma/st ever to her mind suggest 
 The memory of her song-loving guest. 
 The worth of offering from friend we prize. 
 Not in the gift but in the giver lies. 
 
 1 Minerva, goddess of science, wisdoi 
 ry, etc., inventress of the distaff, and 
 
 2 Zeus and Dios were the Greek, Jovis anil Ju] 
 Latin names of the god of the air, ' ruler of gods am 
 
 ch once had 1,200,000 souls, 
 by Archias, B. C. 732, about twenty yea 
 
ian's ''^imil Sports." 
 
 ANGLING, FOWLING, AND HUNTING. 
 
 A OKOKOIC. 
 
 Yon, who tho sweets of rural life have known, 
 Despise th' ungrateful hurry of the town ; 
 In Windsor groves your easy hours employ, 
 And, undisturbed, yourself and muse enjoy ; 
 Thames listens to thy strains, and silent flows. 
 And no rude wind through rustling osier blows ; 
 While all his wondering nymphs around thoe throng, 
 To hear the sirens warble in thy song. 
 But I, who ne'er was blest by fortune's hand. 
 Nor brightened ploughshares in paternal land. 
 Long in the noisy town have been immured, 
 Respired its smoke, and all its cares endured ; 
 Where news and politics divide mankind, 
 And schemes of state involve the uneasy mind ; 
 Faction embroils the world ; and every tongue 
 Is moved by flattery, or with scandal hung : 
 Friendship, for sylvan shades, the palace flies, 
 WTiere all must yield to interest's dearer ties ; 
 Each rival Machiavel with envy burns, 
 And honesty forsakes them all by turns ; 
 While calumny upon each party 's thrown, 
 ^\'hich both promote, and both alike disown. 
 Fatigued, at last, a calm retreat I chose. 
 And soothed my harassed mind with sweet repose, 
 Where fields and shades, and the refreshing clime. 
 Inspire the sylvan song, and prompt my rhyme. 
 
 My muse shall rove through flowery meads and 
 plains, 
 And deck with Kural Sports her native strains. 
 And the same road ambitiously pursue. 
 Frequented by tho Mantuan swain and you.* 
 
 'T is not that Rural Sports alone invite. 
 But all tho grateful country breathes delight ; 
 Here blooming Health exerts her genial reign, 
 And strings the sinews of the industrious swain. 
 Soon as the morning lark salutes the day. 
 Through dewy fields I take my frequent way. 
 Where I behold the farmer's early care 
 In the revolving labors of the year. 
 
 1 This poem was originally inscribed to Pope, in 1713. 
 
 When the fresh Spring in all her state is crowned, 
 .\nd high, luxuriant grass o'erspreads the ground. 
 The laborer with a bending scythe is seen, 
 Sliaving the surface of the waving green ; 
 ur all her native pride disrobes the land. 
 And meads lay waste before his sweeping hand ; 
 While with the mounting sun the meadow glows. 
 The fading herbage round he loosely throws : 
 But, if some .«i^ii portend a histing shuwcr. 
 
 The e.\perieii 1 .u.nn t<;---' ■ ^ i:m . "Iiiiii- hour; 
 
 His sunburnt Ii.mmI iKi i' i _ : i.-ake. 
 
 And ruddy .l;i:ai N \'];. _ : 1 1 ■ ; 
 
 In rising hilLs lU^ l^siai.t h.unM. j,i..u.<, 
 And spreads along the lield in equal rows. 
 
 Now when the height of heaven bright Phoebus 
 
 And his steep * rays cleave wide the thirsty plains ; 
 When heifers seek the shade and cooling lake, 
 And in the middle pathway basks the snake ; 
 lead me, guard me from the sultry hours. 
 Hide me, ye forests, in your closest bowers, 
 Where the tall oak his spreading arms entwines. 
 And with the beech a mutual shade combines ; 
 Where flows the murmuring brook, inviting dreams, 
 Where bordering hazel overhangs tho streams, 
 WTiose rolling current, winding round and round. 
 With frequent falls makes all the wood resound ; 
 Upon the mossy couch my limbs I cast, 
 And e'en at noon the sweets of evening taste. 
 
 vniGIL'3 
 
 ORAIS i VISES ; 
 
 Here I peruse the Mantuan's Georgic strains. 
 And learn the labors of Italian swains ; 
 In every page I see new landscapes rise. 
 And all Ilesporia opens to ray eyes ; 
 T wander o'er the various rural toil, 
 And know the nature of each different soil : 
 This waving field is gilded o'er with corn, 
 That spreading trees with blushing fruit adorn ; 
 Here I survey the purple vintage grow. 
 Climb round the poles, and rise in graceful row : 
 Now I behold tho steed curvet and bound, 
 And paw with restless hoof the smoking grr)und : 
 The dew-lapped bull now chafes along the plain. 
 While burning love ferments in every vein ; 
 His well-armed front against his rival aims. 
 And by the dint of war his mistress claims. 
 
 1 The original has * level,' but without meaning. — J. 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 The careful insect midst his works I view, 
 Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew ; 
 "With golden treasures load his little thighs, 
 And steer his distant journey through the skies : 
 Some against hostile drones the hive defend. 
 Others with sweets the waxen cell distend ; 
 Each in the toil his destined office bears. 
 And in the little bulk a mighty soul appears. 
 
 BVENINO IN THE CODNTBV. —SILENCE. —SBNSET. 
 
 Or when the ploughman leaves the task of day, 
 And, trudging homeward, whistles on the way; 
 When the big-uddered cows with patience stand. 
 Waiting the strokings of the damsel's hand ; 
 No warbling cheers the woods ; the feathered choir, 
 To court kind slumbers, to the sprays retire ; 
 ■When no rude gale disturbs the sleeping trees. 
 Nor aspen-leaves confess the gentlest breeze ; 
 Engaged in thought to Neptune's bounds I stray. 
 To take my farewell of the parting day. 
 Far in the deep the sun his glory hides, 
 A streak of gold the sea and sky divides : 
 The purple clouds their amber linings show. 
 And edged with flame rolls every wave below : 
 Hero pensive I behold the fading light, 
 And o'er the distant billow lose my sight. 
 
 Now night in silent state begins to rise. 
 And twinkling orbs bestrew the uncloudy skies ; 
 Her borrowed lustre growing Cynthia lends. 
 And on the main a glittering path extends : 
 Millions of worlds hang in the spacious air, 
 "Which round their suns their annual circles steer ; 
 Sweet contemplation elevates my sense, 
 While I survey the works of Providence. 
 0, could the muse in loftier strains rehearse 
 The glorious Author of the universe. 
 Who reins the winds, gives the vast ocean bounds. 
 And circumscribes the floating worlds their rounds ; 
 My soul should overflow in songs of praise, 
 And my Creator's name inspire my lays ! 
 
 As in successive course the seasons roll. 
 So circling pleasures recreate the soul. 
 When genial Spring a living warmth bestows. 
 And o'er the year her verdant mantle throws. 
 No swelling inundation hides the grounds. 
 But crystal currents glide within their bounds ; 
 The finny brood their wonted haunts forsake. 
 Float in the sun, and skim along the lake ; 
 With frequent leap they range the shallow strear 
 Their silver coats reflect the dazzling beams. 
 Now let the fisherman his toils prepare. 
 And arm himself with every watery snare ; 
 His hooks, his lines, peruse with careful eye. 
 Increase his tackle, and his rod retio. 
 
 When floating clouds their spongy fleeces drain. 
 Troubling the streams with swift-descending rain ; 
 And waters, tumbling down the mountain's side, 
 Bear the loose soil into the swelling tide ; 
 Then soon as vernal gales begin to rise. 
 And drive the liquid burthen through the skies. 
 The fisher to the neighboring current speeds, 
 Whose rapid surface purls unknown to weeds : 
 Upon a rising border of the brook 
 He sits him down and ties the treacherous hook ; 
 Now expectation cheers his eager thought, 
 His bosom glows with treasures yet unoaught. 
 Before his eyes a banquet seems to stand. 
 Where every guest applauds his skilful hand. 
 
 Far up the stream the twisted hair he throws, 
 Which down the murmuring current gently flows ; 
 When if, or chance or hunger's powerful sway 
 Directs the roving trout this fatal way. 
 He greedily sucks in the twining bait, 
 And tugs and nibbles the fallacious meat ; 
 Now, happy fisherman, now twitch the line ! 
 How thy rod bends ! behold, the prize is thine ! 
 Cast on the bank, he dies with gasping pains. 
 And trickling blood his silver mail distains. 
 
 You must not every worm promiscuous use, 
 Judgment will tell the proper bait to choose : 
 The worm that draws along immoderate size 
 The trout abhors, and the rank morsel flies ; 
 And if too small, the naked fraud 's in sight, 
 And fear forbids, while hunger does invite. 
 Those baits will best reward the fisher's pains. 
 Whose polished tails a shining yellow stains ; 
 Cleanse them from filth ; to give a tempting gloss. 
 Cherish the sullied reptile race with moss ; 
 Amid the verdant bed they twine, they toil. 
 And from their bodies wipe their native soil. 
 
 But when the sun displays his gracious beams. 
 And shallow rivers flow with silver streams. 
 Then the deceit the scaly breed survey. 
 Bask in the sun and look into the day : 
 You now a more delusive art must try, 
 And tempt their hunger with the curious fly. 
 
 To frame the little animal, provide 
 All the gay hues that wait on female pride ; 
 Let nature guide thee ; sometimes golden wire 
 The shining bellies of the fly require : 
 The peacock's plumes thy tackle must not fail. 
 Nor the dear purchase of the sable's t.^il. 
 Each gaudy bird some slender tribute brings. 
 And lends the growing insect proper wings : 
 Silks of all colors must their aid impart, 
 And every fur promote the fisher's art. 
 
So the gay lady, with expensive care, 
 Borrows the pride of land, of sea, and air ; 
 Furs, pearls, aud plumes, the glittering thing displays, 
 Dazzles our eyes, and easy hearts betrays. 
 
 Mark well tho rarious seasons of the year, 
 How the succeeding insect race appear ; 
 In this revolving moon one color reigns, 
 Which in the next the fickle trout disdains. 
 
 Oft have I so.mi Ihf =ki!fn! niiglor try 
 
 The vai-iuus - ,,|,.i - ,.t li,,. tn lu-heruus fly, 
 
 AVhen he w iih inntlr-. pnn lijitU skimmed the brook. 
 
 And tbo <.-•'% li-h ii i<>[- ilir skipping hook. 
 
 thn 
 
 llo gentl_v takus him tVuui thy uliiiling tide; 
 Examines well his form with curious eyes, 
 His gaudy vest, his wings, his horns, and size ; 
 Then round his hook the chosen fur he winds, 
 And on the back a speckled feather binds ; 
 So just the colors shine through every part. 
 That nature seems again to live in art. 
 
 Let not thy wary step advance too near, 
 While all thy hope hangs on a single hair ; 
 The new-formed insect on the water moves, 
 The speckled trout the curious snare approves ; 
 Upon the curling surface let it glide, 
 With natural motion from thy hand supplied ; 
 Against the stream now gently- let it play, 
 Now in the rapid eddy roll away. 
 The scaly shoals float by, and, seized with fear, 
 Behold their fellows tost in thinner air ; 
 But soon they leap and catch the swimming bait, 
 Plunge on the hook, and share an equal fate. 
 
 IVben a brisk gale against the current blows. 
 And all the watery plain in wrinkles flows, 
 Then let the fisherman his art repeat, 
 "VMiere bubbling eddies favor tho deceit. 
 If an enormous salmon chance to spy 
 The wanton errors of the floating fly, 
 He lifts his silver gills above tho flood. 
 And greedily sucks in the unfaithful food ; 
 Then downward plunges with tho fraudful prey. 
 And bears with joy the little spoil away : 
 Soon in smart pain he feels the dire mistake, 
 Lashes the wave, and beats the foaming lako ; 
 With sudden rage he now aloft appears, 
 And in his eye con\'ulsive anguish bears ; 
 And now again, impatient of the wound. 
 He rolls and wreathes his shining body round ; 
 Then heatllong shoots beneath tho dashing tide. 
 The trembling fins the boiling wave divide. 
 Now hope exalts tho fisher's beating heart. 
 Now he turns palo and fears his dubious art ; 
 
 He views the trembling fish with longing eyes 
 While the lino stretches with the unwieldy prize ; 
 Each motion humors with his steady hands, 
 And one slight hair the mi-ility Inilk cuuuuands ; 
 Till, tired at last, despnil.,! ,>r ;,il hi. ^inM-th, 
 Tho game athwart tho ,-tir;, I, I ini!,.M- in icnj^th. 
 He now, with pleasure, ww- ilir -i [.m.' pri/.o 
 
 Gnash bis sharp teeth, ami n-ll In- \.\ i-lmti-yci 
 
 Then draws him to the >ii"ii\ u ith ;ii mhI rm-c. 
 And lifts his nostrils in th- ^i^kni,,;- ;iii ; 
 Upon tho burdened stream In- llnatiii;,' Ul^, 
 Stretches his quivering limbs, and gasping dies. 
 
 Would you preserve a numerous finny race, 
 Let your fit- rce dogs the ravenous otter chase ; — 
 The amphibiuus monster ranges all the shores, 
 Darts through the waves, and every haunt explores; — 
 Or let the gin his roving steps betray. 
 And save from hostile jaws the scaly prey. 
 
 I never wander where the bordering reeds 
 O*erlook the muddy stream, whose tangling weeds 
 Perplex the fisher ; I nor choose to bear 
 The thievish nightly net, nor barbed spear ; 
 Nor drain I ponds the golden carp to take. 
 Nor troll for pikes, dispeoplers of the lake ; 
 Around the steel no tortured worm shall twine. 
 No blood of living insect stain my line. 
 Let me, less crufi, cast the feathered hook. 
 With pliant rod, athwart the pebbled brook ; 
 Silent along tho mazy margin stray, 
 And with the fur-wrought fly delude the prey. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 Now, sporting muse, draw in the flowing reins, 
 Leave the clear streams a while for sunny plains. [ 
 Should you the various arms and toils rehearse, ' 
 
 And all the fishermen adorn thy verso ; 
 Should you the wide-encircling net display, 
 And in its spacious arch enclose tho sea ; 
 Then haul tho plunging load upon the land, 
 And with the sole and turbot hide the sand ; 
 It would extend the growing theme too long, 
 And tiro tho reader with the watery song. i 
 
 LET THE SPORTSMAN 5PARB THE STASDINO CROP J RBAPISO. 
 
 Let the keen hunter from the chase refrain, I 
 
 Nor render all the ploughman's labor vain, 
 When Ceres pours out plenty from her horn. 
 And clothes tho fields with golden cars of com. i 
 
 Now, now, ye reapers, to your task repair ; 
 Haste ! save the product of the bounteous year : 
 To the wide-gathering hook long furrows yield, 
 And rising sheaves extend through all the field. 
 
 Yet, if for Sylvan Sports thy bosom glow, 
 Let thy fleet greyhound urge his flying foe. 
 
KURAL POETRY. 
 
 With what delight the rapid course I view ! 
 How does my eye the circling race pursue ! 
 He snaps deceitful air with empty jaws ; 
 The subtle hare darts swift beneath his paws ; 
 She flies, he stretches, now with nimble bound 
 Eager he presses on, but overshoots his ground ; 
 She turns, he winds, and soon regains the way, 
 Then tears with gory mouth the screaming prey. 
 "What various sport does rural life afford ! 
 "What unbought dainties heap the wholesome board ! 
 
 FOWLING ; THE 
 
 Nor less the spaniel, skilful to betray, 
 Rewards the fowler with the feathered prey. 
 Soon as the laboring horse, with swelling veins, 
 Hath safely housed the farmer's doubtful gains. 
 To sweet repast the unwary partridge flies, 
 "With joy amid the scattered harvest lies ; 
 Wandering in plenty, danger he forgets. 
 Nor dreads the slavery of entangling nets. 
 The subtle dog scours with sagacious nose 
 Along the field, and snuffs each breeze that blows 
 Against the wind he takes his prudent way, 
 While the strong gale directs him to his prey. 
 Now the warm scent assures the covey near, 
 He treads with caution, and he points with fear ; 
 Then — lest some sentry fowl the fraud descry, 
 And bid his fellows from the danger fly — 
 Close to the ground in expectation lies, 
 Till in the snare the fluttering covey rise. 
 Soon as the blushing light begins to spread. 
 And glancing Phoebus gilds the mountain's head, 
 His early flight the ill-fated partridge takes, 
 And quits the friendly shelter of the brakes. 
 Or when the sun easts a declining ray. 
 And drives his chariot down the western way, 
 Let your obsequious ranger search around. 
 Where yellow stubble withers on the ground : 
 Nor will the roving spy direct in vain, 
 But numerous coveys gratify thy pain. 
 When the meridian sun contracts the shade. 
 And frisking heifers seek the cooling glade ; 
 Or when the country floats with sudden rains, 
 Or driving mists deface the moistened plains ; 
 In vain his toils the unskilful fowler trios, 
 While in thick woods the feeding partridge lies. 
 
 Nor must the sporting verse the gun forbear, 
 But what 's the fowler's be the muses' care. 
 See how the well-taught pointer leads the way : 
 The scent grows warm ; he stops ; he springs the prey ; 
 The fluttering coveys from the stubble rise, 
 Aud on swift wing divide the sounding skies ; 
 The scattering lead pursues the certain sight, 
 And death in thunder overtakes their flight. 
 Cool breathes the morning air, and winter's hand 
 Spreads wide her hoary mantle o'er the land ; 
 
 Now to the copse thy ksser spaniel take, 
 
 Teach him to range the ditch, and force the brake ; 
 
 Not closest coverts can protect the game : 
 
 Hark ! the dog opens ; take thy certain aim, 
 
 The woodcock flutters ; how he wavering flies ! 
 
 The wood resounds ; he wheels, he drops, he dies. 
 
 The towering hawk let future poets sing, 
 Wko terror bears upon his soaring wing : 
 Let them on high the frighted hem sun'cy. 
 And lofty numbers paint their aiVy fray. 
 Nor shall the mounting lark the muse detain. 
 That greets the morning with his early strain ; 
 When, *midst his song, the twinkling glass betrays, 
 While from each angle flash the glancing rays. 
 And in the sun the transient colors blaze, 
 Pride lures the little warbler from the skies : 
 The light-enamored bird deluded dies. 
 
 But still the chase, a pleasant task, remains ; 
 The hound must open in these rural strains. 
 Soon as Aurora drives away the night. 
 And edges eastern clouds with rosy light, 
 The healthy huntsman, with the cheerful horn, 
 Summons the dogs, and greets the dappled morn ; 
 The jocund thunder wakes the enlivened hounds ; 
 They rouse from sleep, and answer sounds for sounds; 
 Wide through the furzy field their route they take. 
 Their bleeding bosoms force the thorny brake ; 
 The flying game their smoking nostrils trace, 
 No bounding hedge obstructs their eager pace ; 
 The distant mountains echo from afar, 
 And hanging woods resound the flying war. 
 The tuneful noise the sprightly courser hears. 
 Paws the green turf, and pricks his trembling ears ; 
 The slackened rein now gives him all his speed, 
 Back flies the rapid ground beneath the steed ; 
 Hills, dales, and forests, far behind remain, [train. 
 While the warm scent draws on the deep-mouthed 
 AVhere shall the trembling hare a shelter find ? 
 Hark ! death advances in each gust of wind ! 
 New stratagems and doubling wiles she tries. 
 Now circling turns, and now at large she flics ; 
 Till, spent at last, she pants, and heaves for breath, 
 Then lays her down, aud waits devouring death. 
 
 But stay, adventurous muse ! hast thou the force 
 To wind the twisted horn, to guide the horse ? 
 To keep thy scat unmoved, hast thou the skill, 
 O'er the high gate, and down the headlong hill ? 
 Canst thou the stag's laborious chase direct, 
 Or the strong fox through all his arts detect? 
 The theme demands a more experienced lay : 
 Ye mighty hunters ! spare this weak essay. 
 
3i 
 
 0, happy plains, remote from war's alarms, 
 And all the ravages of hostile arms ! 
 And happy shepherds, who, secure from fear. 
 On open downs preserve your fleecy care ! 
 Whose spacious barns groan with increasing stoi 
 And whirling flails disjoint the cracking floor ! 
 No barbarous soldier, bent on cruel spoil. 
 Spreads desolation o'er your fertile soil ; 
 No trampling steed lays waste the ripened grain 
 Nor crackling fires devour the promised gain ■ 
 No flaming beacons cast their blaze afar, 
 The dreadful signal of invasive war : 
 No trumpet's clangor wounds the mother's ear, 
 And calls the lover from his swooning fair. 
 
 THE COrNTRY GIRL DESCRIBED ', OER HAPPY LOT. 
 
 What happiness the rural maid attends. 
 In cheerful labor while each day she spends ! 
 She gratefully receives what Heaven has sent, 
 And, rich in poverty, enjoys content ; 
 — Such happiness, and such unblemished fame. 
 Ne'er glad the bosom of the courtly dame : — 
 She never feels the spleen's imagined pains, 
 Nor melancholy stagnates in her veins ; 
 She never loses life in thoughtless ease. 
 
 Nor on the velvet couch invites disease ; 
 Her homespun dress in simple neatness lies, 
 And for no glaring equipage she sighs : 
 Her reputation, which is all her boast, 
 In a malicious visit ne'er was lost ; 
 No midnight masquerade her beauty wears, 
 And health, not paint, the fading bloom repairs. 
 If love's soft passion in her bosom reign, 
 An equal passion warms her happy swain ; 
 I No homebred jars her quiet state control, 
 Xnr watchful jealousy torments her soul ; 
 With secret joy she sees her little race 
 Ilang on her brea^it, and her small cottage grace ; 
 The fleecy ball their busy fingers cull, 
 Or from the spindle draw the lengthening wool. 
 Thus flow her hours with constant peace of mind, 
 Till age the latest thread of life unwind. 
 
 ADIEU TO TOR COUNTRY. 
 
 Ye happy fields, unknown to noise and strife, 
 The kind rewardcrs of inrlu?trious life ; 
 
 Ye shady woods, wl n. r T u ^ ■] u> rove, 
 
 Alike indulgent I' ' ■ I ■■.■■; 
 
 Ye murmuring .-t I r, I i' n :, unlrrsroll. 
 
 The sweet compos.', ni t\i- ^m n i .r .,,ul ; 
 Farewell ! — The city calls mu frum your bowers : 
 Farewell ! amusing thoughts and peaceful hours. 
 
 fusscr's ''HIarrlj's Ijusbiinitni/' 
 
 Worth r 
 
 
 t the li 
 
 White pcnson, both good for the pot and the purse, 
 By sowing too timely, prove often the worse. 
 Because tliey be tender, and bateth the cold, 
 Prove JIarch ere ye sow, for being too bold. 
 Spare meadow at Gregory,' marshes at Pasque.' 
 For fear of dry summer no longer time ask. 
 Then hedge them and ditch them, bestow thereon 
 
 Com, meadow, and pasture, ask alway good fence.** 
 In March, at the farthest, dry season or wet. 
 Hop-roots, 80 well chosen, let skilful go set. 
 The goeler< and younger, the better I love ; 
 Well gutted and pared, the better they prove. * * 
 In March is good grafling, the skilful do know, 
 So long as the wind in the east do not blow : 
 
 1 These extracts arc frnm that rare old Farmer's hook, 
 *Tusser*9 Five llundretl Points of Oood Ilusbandrv,' first 
 published in England, in Klizaheth's reifm, three hundred 
 years ago. The precepts were given in rhyme, so as to be 
 
 From moon being changed, till past be the prime. 
 
 For graffing and cropping is very good time. 
 
 Things grafted or planted, the greatest and least. 
 
 Defend against tempest, the bird and the beast ; 
 
 Defended shall prosper, the tother is lost. 
 
 The thing with the labor, the time, and the cost. 
 
 Sow barley in March, in April and May, 
 
 The later in sand, and the sooner in clay. 
 
 AVhat worser for barley than wetness and cold ? 
 
 What better to skilful than time to be bold? 
 
 \\'ho soweth his barley too soon, or in rain, 
 
 Of oats and of thistles shall often complain. * * 
 
 I>ct barley bo harrowed finely as dust. 
 
 Then workmanly trench it and fence it ye must. 
 
 This season well plied, set sowing an end. 
 
 And praise and pray God a good harvest to send.** 
 
 In March and in April, from morning to night. 
 
 In sowing and setting good housewives delight : 
 
 To have in a garden or other like plot. 
 
 To trim up their house, and to furnish their pot. • ' 
 
 Land falling or lying full south or south-west, 
 
 For profit by tillage, is lightly the best : * » 
 
 At spring for the Summer sow garden ye shall ; 
 
 At harvest for Winter, or sow not at all. * * 
 
ustit lallais for 
 
 lliu-tl 
 
 ' ROBES HOOD AND GUY OF GISBORNE." • 
 
 ■Whan shaws been shecne, and shraddes full fayre, 
 
 And leaves both large and longe, 
 Itt's merrye walkyng in the fayre forrest 
 
 To hear the small birdes songe/-! 
 The woodweele sang and would not cease, 
 
 gifting upon the spray, 
 So loud, he wakened Robin Hood, 
 In the greenwood where he lay. 
 Now, by my faye, said jolly Robin, 
 
 A sweaven I had this night ; 
 I dreamt me of two mighty yeomen, 
 
 That fast with me 'gan tight. 
 Methought they did me beat and bind, 
 
 And took my bow mo froe ; 
 If I be Robin alive in this land 
 I'll be wroken on them towe. 
 Sweavens are swift, said Little John, 
 
 As the wind blows over the hill ; 
 For if it be never so loud this night, 
 
 To-morrow it may be still. 
 Buske ye, bowne ye, my merry men, all. 
 
 And John shall go with me. 
 For I '11 go seek yond wighty yeomen, 
 
 In greenwood where they be. , 
 
 They then cast on their gowns of green. 
 
 And took their bows each one ; 
 And they away to the green forest 
 
 A shooting forth are gone ; 
 Until they came to the merry green wood 
 
 Where they had gladdest to be : 
 There they were ware of a wight yeoman 
 
 That leaned against a tree. 
 A sword and a dagger he wore by his side. 
 
 Of many a man the bane ; 
 And he was clad in his capuU hide 
 Top and tayll and mayne. 
 
 Pil-5 
 
 to lie molested, sparing pii"r ii 
 
 with what he got from iililKj s 
 
 ' of all theeves the prince and 
 
 2 The antique spelling of 
 
 Stand still, master, quoth Little John, 
 
 Under this tree so green. 
 And I will go to yond wight yeoman 
 
 To know what he doth mean. 
 Ah ! John, by me thou sett'st no store, 
 
 And that I farley find : 
 How often send I my men before, 
 
 And tarry myself behind ? 
 It is no cunning a knave to ken, 
 
 An a man but hear him speak ; 
 An it were not for bursting of my bow, 
 
 John, I thy head would break. 
 As often words they breeden bale. 
 
 So they parted Robin and John ; 
 
 And John is going to Barnesdale : 
 
 The gates he knoweth each one. 
 
 But when he came to Barnesdale, 
 
 Great heaviness there he had. 
 For he found two of his own fellowes 
 
 Were slain both in a slade. 
 And Scarlette he was flying afoot 
 
 Fast over stock and stone. 
 For the proud sheriffe with seven score men 
 
 Fast after him is gone. 
 One shoote now, I will shoote, quoth John, 
 
 With his might and mayne ; 
 
 I '11 make yond sheriff that wends so fast. 
 
 To stop he shall be fain. 
 Then John bent up his long bend bow. 
 
 And settled him to shoot ; 
 The bow was made of tender bough. 
 
 And fell down at his foot. 
 Woe worth, woe worth thee, wicked wood. 
 
 That ever thou grew on tree ; 
 For now this day thou art my bale. 
 
 My boote when thou should be. 
 
 His shoote it was hut loosely shot. 
 
 Yet flew not the arrow in vain. 
 
 For it met one of the sheriff's men. 
 
 And William a Trent was slain. 
 
 It had been better of AVilliam a Trent 
 
 To have been abed with sorrow. 
 Than to be that day iu the greenwood slade, 
 
 To meet with Little John's arrow. 
 For as it was said, when men be met, 
 
 Five can do more than three. 
 
 The sheriff hath taken Little John 
 
 And bound him fast to a tree. 
 
SPRING - 
 
 - MARCH. 33 
 
 
 Thou Shalt be drawn by dale and down, 
 
 And hanged high on a hill. 
 But thou mayest fail of thy purpose, quoth John, 
 
 If it be Christ his will. 
 
 My dwelling is in this wood, says Robin, 
 
 By thee I set right naught : 
 I am Robin Hood of Barnesdalo, 
 
 Whom thou so long has sought. 
 
 
 Let us leave talking of Little John, 
 And think of Robin Hood, 
 
 How ho is gone to the wight yeoman, 
 Where under the leaves ho stood. 
 
 He that had neither been kith nor kin 
 Might have seen a full fayre sight. 
 
 To soe how together these yeomen went 
 With blades both brown and bright : 
 
 
 Good-morrow, good fellow, said Robin so fair, 
 Hood-morrow, good fellow, quo' he : 
 
 Mothiuks, by this bow thou bears in thy hand, 
 A good areher thou should'st be. 
 
 To see how these yeomen together they fought 
 
 Two hours of a summer's day : 
 Yet neither Robin Hood nor Sir Guy 
 
 Them settled to fly away. 
 
 
 1 am wilfulle of my way, quo' tho yeoman. 
 
 And of my morning tyde. 
 I '11 lead thee through the wood, said Robin : 
 
 Good fellow, I '11 bo thy guide. 
 
 Robin was reachles on a root, 
 And stumbled at that tyde ; 
 
 And Guy was quick and nimble withal. 
 And hit him upon the side. 
 
 
 I seek an outliwe, the stranger said, 
 
 Men call him Robin Hood ; 
 Rather I'd meet with that proud outliwo, 
 
 Than forty pound so good. 
 
 Ah.deere Ladye, said Robin Hood, thou 
 That art both mother and may, 
 
 I think it was never man's destinye 
 To die before his day ! 
 
 
 Now conic with me, thou wighty yeoman. 
 And Robin thou soon shalt sec : 
 
 But first let us some pastime find 
 Under the greenwood tree. 
 
 Robin thought on our Ladye deere. 
 
 And soon leapt up again ; 
 And straight he came with a backward stroke, 
 
 And he Sir Guy hath slayne. 
 
 
 First let us some mnsterye make 
 
 Among tho woods so even ; 
 We may chance to meet with Kobin Hood 
 
 Here at some unsett Steven. 
 
 He took .'^ir Guy's heiul by the hair. 
 And .<tuck it upon his bow's end : 
 
 Thou hast been a traitor all thy life, 
 Which thing must have an end. 
 
 
 They cut them down two summer shroggs. 
 That grew both under a breere, 
 
 And set them three-score rod in twain. 
 To shoot the prickes y-fere. 
 
 Robin pulled forth an Irysh knife. 
 And nicked Sir Guy in the face. 
 
 That he was never on woman born 
 Could know whose head it was. 
 
 
 Lead on, good fellow, quoth Robin Hood, 
 
 Lead on, I do bid thee. 
 Nay, by my faith, good fellow, he said. 
 
 My leader thou shalt be. 
 
 Says, Lie there, lie there, now. Sir Guy, 
 
 And with me be not wroth : 
 If thou have had the worst strokes at my hand. 
 
 Thou shalt have the better cloth. 
 
 
 The first time Robin shot at the pricke. 
 He mist but an inch it fro : 
 
 The yeoman he was an archer good. 
 But he could never do so. 
 
 Robin did off his gown of green 
 And on Sir Guy did throw. 
 
 And he put on that capuU hide, 
 That clad him top to toe. 
 
 
 Tho second shooto had the wighty yeoman. 
 
 He shot within the garland : 
 But Robin he shot far belter than he. 
 
 For he clave tho good pricke-wande. 
 
 Thy bow, thy arrows, and little horn, 
 Now with mo I will bear ; 
 
 For I will away to Barnesdalo, 
 To see how my men do faro. 
 
 
 A blessing upon thy heart, he said ; 
 
 Good fellow, thy shooting is good ; 
 For an thy heart bo as good as thy hand, 
 
 Thou wert bettor than Robin Hood. 
 
 Robin Hood set Guy's horn to his mouth, 
 And a loud blajit in it did blow. 
 
 That beheard tho sheriff of Nottingham, 
 As he leaned under a lowe. 
 
 
 Now toll me thy name, good fellow, said he, 
 
 Under the leaves of lyne. 
 Nay, by my faith, quoth bold Robin, 
 
 Till thou have told me thine. 
 
 Hearken, hearken, said the sheriff, 
 
 I hear now tidings good. 
 For yonder I hear Sir Guy's horn blow, 
 
 And he hath slain Robin Hood. 
 
 
 I dwell by dale and down, quoth he. 
 And Robin to take I 'm sworn ; 
 
 And when I am called by my right name 
 I am Guy of good Gisborne. 
 
 Yonder I hear Sir Guy's horn blow. 
 
 It blows so well in tyde ; 
 And yonder comes that wightye yeoman, 
 
 Clad in hi^ capull liyde. 
 
 
34 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Come hither, come hither, thou good Sir Guy ; 
 
 Ask what thou wilt of me. 
 I will none of thy gold, said Robin, 
 
 Nor I will none of thy fee : 
 
 But now I have slain the master, he says, 
 
 Let me go strike the knave ; 
 For this is all the meed I ask, 
 
 None other reward I 'U have. 
 
 Thou art a madman, said the sheriff, 
 Thou shouldst have had a knight's fee : 
 
 But seeing thy asking has been so bad, 
 Well granted it shall be. 
 
 When Little John heard his master speak, 
 Well knew he it was his steven : 
 
 Now shall I be looset, quoth Little John, 
 With Christ his might in heaven. 
 
 Fast Robin he hied him to Little John, 
 
 He thought to loose him blive ; 
 The sheriff and all his company 
 
 Fast after him 'gan drive. 
 
 Stand aback, stand aback, said Robin, 
 Why draw you me so near ? 
 
 One's shrift another should hear. 
 
 But Robin puUed forth an Irish knife, 
 
 And loosed John hand and foot. 
 And gave him Sir Guy's bow in his band, 
 
 And bade it be bis boote. 
 
 Then John he took Guy's bow in his hand, 
 
 His bolts and arrows each one ; 
 When the sheriff saw Little John bend his bow. 
 
 He settled him to bo gone. 
 
 Towards his house in Nottingham town 
 
 He fled full fast away : 
 And so did all the company : 
 
 Not one behind would stay. * * * 
 
 DRAYTON'S *' ROBIN IN SHERWOOD." 
 
 In this our spacious isle, I think there is not one, 
 
 But he hath heard some talk of him and Little John ; 
 
 And to the end of time the tale shall ne'er be done, 
 
 Of Scarlock, George-a-Green, and Much the Miller's 
 
 Of Tuck the merry friar, which many a sermon made 
 In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws, and their trade. 
 An hundred valiant men had this same Robin Hood, 
 Still ready at his call, that bowmen were right good, 
 All clad in Lincoln green, with caps of red and blue; 
 His fellows' winded horn, not one of them but knew. 
 When setting to their lips their little beugles shrill. 
 The warbling echoes waked from every dale and hill : 
 Their bauldrichs set with studs, athwart their shoul- 
 ders cast, [fast. 
 To which under their arms their sheafs were buckled 
 A short sword at their belt, a buckler scarce a span, 
 Who struck below the knee, not counted they a man ; 
 All made of Spanish yew, their bows were wondrous 
 
 strong, 
 They not an arrow shot, but was a-s a cloth-yard long. 
 
 Of archery they had the very perfect craft ; 
 With broad-arrow, or but, or prick, or roving shaft, 
 At marks full forty score, they used to prick and rove, 
 Yet higher than the breast for compass never strove ; 
 Yet at the farthest mark a foot could hardly win : 
 At long-buts, short and hoyles, each one could cleave 
 
 the pin : 
 Their arrows finely paired for timber and for feather, 
 With birch and brazil pieced, to fly in any weather; 
 And shot they with the round, the square or forked 
 pile, [mile ; 
 
 The loose gave such a twang, as might be heard a 
 And of these archers brave there was not any one 
 But he could kill a deer his swiftest speed upon : 
 Which they did boil or roast in many a mighty wood. 
 Sharp hunger the fine sauce to their more kingly food. 
 Then taking them to rest, his merry men and he 
 Slept many a summer's night under the greenwood 
 tree. [dant store. 
 
 From wealthy abbots' chests, and churls' abun- 
 AVhat oftentimes he took he shared among the poor : 
 No lordly bishop came in lusty Robin's way, 
 To him before he went, but for his pass must pay : 
 The widow in distress he graciously relieved, 
 And remedied the wrongs of many a virgin grieved: 
 \\v ttniti the husband's bed no married woman wan, 
 l:ut ('• his mistress dear, his loved Marian, 
 Was ever constant known, who, wheresoe'er she came. 
 Was sovereign of the woods, chief lady of the game : 
 Her clothes tucked to the knee, and dainty braided 
 hair, [there 
 
 With bow and quiver armed, she wandered here and 
 Among the forests wild ; Diana never knew 
 Such pleasures, nor such harts as Mariana slew. 
 
6o(tisinitIj's "HcscrtcLi iUllaiu. 
 
 THE VILLiOE OP AUBniS IS ITS PBOSPERITIT. 
 
 Sweet Auburn ! loveliest village of the plain, 
 Where health and plenty cheered the laboring swain, 
 Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, 
 And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed. 
 Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease. 
 Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, 
 How often have I loitered o'er thy green, 
 Where humble happiness endeared each scene ! 
 I How often have I paused on every charm, — 
 The sheltered cot, tho cultivated farm, 
 The never-failing brook, the busy mill. 
 The decent church that topt the neighboring hill. 
 The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade. 
 For talking ago and whispering lovers made ! 
 
 TILLAGE PASTIMES J DASCISO ; SPORTIVE ISXOCESOE. 
 
 How often have I blest the coming day. 
 When toil remitting lent its turn to play, 
 And all the village train, from labor free. 
 Led up their sports bL-Tirntfi the -pre a.lini; tree ; 
 While many a pa^tiiii-' >iii Ir-1 in tlir -li;i<Ie, 
 
 The young contenililli; ;i- il M -mwyud ; 
 
 And many a gambol li-<i!i'-kril u'.r tin- ground. 
 And sleights of art and foats of strength went round. 
 And still as each repeated pleasure tired, 
 Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired ; 
 The dancing pair that simply sought renown. 
 By holding out, to tire each other down ; 
 The swain mistrustless of his smutted face, 
 While secret laughter tittered round the place ; 
 The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love. 
 The matron's glance that would those looks reprove. 
 Those were thy charms, sweet village ! sports like 
 
 With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please ; 
 These round thy bowers their cheerful in8uence shed. 
 These wore thy charms— but all those charms are fled. 
 
 DESOLATING EFFECTS OF LASD-MONOPOLY OS THE VILLAGE. 
 
 Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, 
 Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn ; 
 Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen. 
 And desolation saddens all thy green : 
 One only master grasps the whole domain, 
 And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain. 
 No more thy glassy brook reflects the day. 
 But, choked with sedges, works its weedy way ; 
 Along thy glades, a solitary guest, 
 Tho hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest ; 
 Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies. 
 And tires their echoes with unvaried cries. 
 Sunk arc thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, 
 
 And tho long grass o'ertop? tho mouldering wall ; 
 And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's band. 
 Far, far away, thy children leave the land. 
 
 REEHOLDS COMMENDED : CHASQES THROCGU J 
 
 111 fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, 
 Where wealth accumulates, and men decay ; 
 Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; 
 A breath can make them, as a breath has made : 
 But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, 
 When once destroyed can never be supplied. 
 
 A time there was, ere England's griefs began, 
 When every rood of ground maintained its man ; 
 For him light labor spread her wholesome store. 
 Just gave what life required, but gave no more ; 
 His best companions, innocence and health ; 
 And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. 
 
 But times are altered ; trade's unfeeling train 
 Usurp the land and dispossess the swain ; 
 Along the lawn, where scattered hamlets rose. 
 Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose ; 
 And every want to luxury allied. 
 And every pang that folly pays to pride. 
 These gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom. 
 Those calm desires that asked but little room. 
 Those healthful sports that graced the peaceful scene, 
 Lived in each look, and brightened all the greon ; 
 These, far departing, seek a kinder shore. 
 And rural mirth and manners are no more. 
 
 RF.MISISCEXCE.S AND DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 Sweet Auburn ! parent of the blissful hour, 
 Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power. 
 Here, as I take my solitaryrounds, 
 Amidst thy tangling walks, and ruined grounds, 
 And, many a year elapsed, return to view 
 Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, 
 Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, 
 Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. 
 
 In all my wanderings round this world of care, 
 In all my griefs — and God has given ray share — 
 I still had hopes my latest hours to crown. 
 Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down ; 
 To husband out life's ta,per at the close. 
 And keep the flame from wasting by repose : 
 I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, 
 Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill. 
 Around my fire an evening group to draw, 
 And tell of all I felt, and all 1 saw ; 
 And, as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue 
 Pants to the place from whence at first she flow, 
 I still had hopes, my long vexations past. 
 Here to return — and die at home at lo^t. 
 
RURAL POETRY. — GOLDSMITH. 
 
 blest retirement, friend to life's decline, 
 Retreats from care that never must be mine, 
 How blest is he who crowns in shades like these 
 A youth of labor with an age of ease ; 
 Who quits a world where strong temptations try, 
 And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly ! 
 For him no wretches, born to work and weep, 
 Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep ; 
 No Burly porter stands in guilty state, 
 To spurn imploring famine from the gate ; 
 But on he moves to meet his latter end, 
 Angels around befriending virtue's friend ; 
 Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay, 
 While resignation gently slopes the way ; 
 And, all his prospects brightening to the last, 
 His heaven commences ere the world be past ! 
 
 Sweet was the sound when oft at evening's close 
 Up yonder hill the village murmur rose ; 
 There, as I past with careless steps and slow, 
 The mingling notes came softened from below : 
 The swain responsive as the milU-maid fiiingj 
 The sober herd that lowed to meet their yuung ; 
 The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the p<Ktl, 
 The playful children just let loose from school ; 
 The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispVing wind, 
 And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; 
 These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, 
 And filled each pause the nightingale had made. 
 
 But now the sounds of population fail, 
 
 No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale, 
 
 No busy steps the grass-grown foot-way tread, 
 
 But all the blooming flush of life is fled. 
 
 All but yon widowed, solitary thing, 
 
 That feebly bends beside the plashy spring ; 
 
 She, wretched matron, forced, in age, for bread, 
 
 To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread, 
 
 To pick her wintry fagot from the thorn. 
 
 To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn ; 
 
 She only left of all the hannless train, 
 
 The sad historian of the pensive plain. 
 
 Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, 
 And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; 
 There, where a few torn shrubs the placL- disclose. 
 The vilhige preacher's modest mansion ruse. 
 A man he was to all the country dear. 
 And passing rich with forty pounds a year ; 
 Remote from towns he ran his godly race. 
 Nor e'er had changed nor wished to change his place ; 
 
 By.I... . : . Kvinghour; 
 
 Murr In-n, ,.,,:,,-.. iln.up.t ■!,..! than to rise. ' 
 His house was known to all the vagrant train. 
 He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain. 
 The long-remembered beggar was his guest, 
 
 ■\VTiose beard descending swept his aged breast ; 
 The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud. 
 Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed; 
 The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, 
 Sate by his fire, and talked the night away ; 
 Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow -done, [won. 
 Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were 
 Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to 
 And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; [glow, 
 Careless their merits or their faults to scan. 
 His pity gave ere charity began. 
 
 THE CLERGYMAN WITH THli POOR, SICK, AND DYING 
 
 Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride. 
 And even his failings leaned to virtue's side ; 
 But in his duty prompt at every call. 
 He watched and wept, he prayed and felt, for all. 
 And, as a bird each fond endearment tries, 
 To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies ; 
 He tried each art. reproved each dull delay. 
 Allured t-. briLr!ir<r w.^iMs, :ind led the way. 
 
 Beside tlir l^ci uli.-re ]i;iiting life was laid. 
 And sorrow, -uilt. ariii pain, by turns dismayed, 
 The reverend champion stood. At his control. 
 Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; 
 Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, 
 And his last faltering accents whispered praise. 
 
 At church, with meek and unaffected grace. 
 His looks adorned the venerable place ; 
 Truth from liis l\].< prevail, d with double sway, 
 And fools. uliM -aiiir tn <,-i,\\\ remained to pray. 
 
 1 1 : 1 J e the good man's smile. 
 His ready -uiil. a i :,,.,,!- uarmth exprest, 
 Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distrest ; 
 To them his heart, his love, his griefs, were given, 
 But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. 
 As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form. 
 Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm. 
 Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, 
 Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 
 
 
 Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way 
 With blossomed furze, unprofitably gay. 
 There, in his noisy nian>ion. skilled to rule. 
 The village master taui'-lit hi.- liitlr srlmol. 
 A man severe he w;i,-, ;iiid -inn t.. \ i-u. — 
 I knew him well, and every truanL knew ; 
 Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace 
 The day's disasters in his morning face ; 
 Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee 
 At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; 
 Full well the busy whisper, circling round, 
 Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned ; 
 Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught, 
 The love ho bore to learning was in fault ; 
 The village all declared how much he knew ; 
 'T was certain he could write, and cipher too ; 
 
SPRINa — MARCH. 
 
 37 
 
 could measure, terms and tides presage> 
 the story ran that he could gauge ; 
 ng, too, the parson owned his skill, 
 though vanquished, he could argue still ; 
 )rds of learned length and thundering souu 
 the gazing rustics ranged around ; 
 they gazed, and still the wonder grew 
 small head could carry all he knew. 
 is all his fame. The very spot 
 any a time ho triumphed is forgot. 
 
 Lands ho 
 And oven 
 In arguinj 
 For ovoE 
 AVhile VT> 
 Amazed 
 And still 
 That one 
 Cut past 
 Where m; 
 
 Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, 
 Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, 
 Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts ii 
 
 Whore gray board mirth and smiling toil retired, 
 Where village statesmen talked with looks profoun( 
 And news much older than their ale went round. 
 Imagination fondly stoops to trace 
 The parlor splendors of that festive place ; 
 The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor. 
 The varnished clock that clicked behind the door ; 
 The chest contrived a double debt to pay, 
 A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day ; 
 The pictures placed for ornament and use, 
 The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose ; 
 The hearth, except when winter chilled the day. 
 With aspen boughs, and flowers and fennel gay. 
 While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, 
 Banged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row. 
 
 Vain transitory splendors ! couhl not all 
 Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall ! 
 Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart 
 An hour's importance to the poor man's heart ; 
 Thither no more the peasant shall repair, , 
 
 To sweet oblivion of his daily care ; 
 No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, 
 No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail ; 
 No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, 
 Relax his pnn-irrnu- •tiTni:t!i. ami Icni tu hear ; 
 The host liini->'ll n- 1m,,^> v -li.ill !„• |.,inHl, 
 Careful to ^<t iIh' in,H,ilu,4 l-li-^ -.. i-,aiiKl ; 
 Nor the coy m:iid, h:ilt' uillitif; tu be prt-st, 
 Shall kiss the cup to puss it to the rest. 
 
 CHARMS OP SIMPUCITT AND SATCRB. 
 
 Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, 
 These simple blessings of the lowly train, 
 To me more dear, congenial to my heart. 
 One native charm, than all the gloss of art. 
 Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play. 
 The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway ; 
 Lightly thoy frolic o'er the vacant mind, 
 riun\ i'll. iinmnlc-tvd, unconfined. 
 lint Til.' In[iu' i'"in|.. the midnight masquera<lc, 
 \Vitii ;ill tlir fir;ik-; i.f wautoH wcalth array cd, 
 111 t'l' — '. <:t>- trifl.rs half their wish obtain, 
 The toiling pleasure sickens into pain ; 
 And, e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy, 
 The heart distrusting asks if this be joy ! 
 
 Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey 
 The rich man's joys increase, the poor's dcoay, 
 'T is yours to judge how wide the limits stand 
 Between a splendid and a happy land. 
 Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, 
 And shouting Folly hails them from her shore ; 
 Hoards even beyond the miser's wish abound. 
 And rich men flock from all the world around. 
 Yet count our gains. This wealth is but a name, 
 Tliat leaves our useful products still the same. 
 Not so tho loss. The man of wealth and pride 
 Takes up a space that many poor supplied ; 
 Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, 
 Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds ; 
 The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth 
 Ha<l robbed the neighboring fields of half their 
 llis seat, where solitary sports are seen, [growth. 
 Indignant spurns the cottage from the green ; 
 Around the world each needful product flies, 
 For all the luxuries the world supplies. 
 AVhile thus the land, adorned for pleasure all. 
 In barren splendor feebly waits the fall. 
 
 As some fair female, unadorned and plain. 
 Secure to please while youth confirms her reign. 
 Slights every borrowed charm that dress supplies. 
 Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes ; 
 But when those charms are past, for charms are frail. 
 When time advances, and when lovers fail. 
 She then shines forth, solicitous to bless, 
 In all the glaring impotence of dress. 
 Thus fares the land, by luxury betrayed, 
 In nature's simplest charms at first arrayed, 
 But vcr^iui; to declitiu. its splendors rise, 
 Itsvi.-ta- -Ink-, It- i.:l1.mh'.s surprise ; 
 AVhil''. M i I : iKiM'- from the smiling land, 
 The iii'^in ,,:,;, j, I I :,; I. ;hU his humble band ; 
 
 The country blooms — a garden, and a grave. 
 
 THK POOR IIERDRP IN CITIES 5 EVILS } CITY CONTRASTS. 
 
 Where, then, ah ! where shall poverty reside, 
 To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride ? 
 If, to some common's fenceless limits strayed, 
 He drives his flocks to pick the scanty blade, 
 Thi>si' Irnci." li.i.N ihc sons of wealth divide, 
 Antl f\iM tii. li:iM -u"i II CMinmon is denied. 
 
 If tntl,,. ,■,!> 
 
 To see protu.i^ 
 To see ten then 
 To pamper lux 
 
 , the 
 
 T0£ 
 
 Ext*)rtcd from h 
 Here, while the 
 There tho pale a 
 
 ier glitters in brocade, 
 plies the sickly trade ; [play. 
 Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomps dis- 
 There the black gibbet glooms beside the way. 
 Tho dome where Pleasure holds her midnight reign, 
 Here, richly decked, admits the gorgeous train ; 
 
RURAL POETRY. GOLDSMITH. 
 
 Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, 
 The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. 
 Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy ! 
 Sure these denote one universal joy ! 
 
 Are these thy serious thoughts? — Ah, turn thine 
 Where the poor, houseless, shirring female lies, [eyes 
 She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest, 
 Has wept at tales of innocence distrest ; 
 Her modest looks the cottage might adorn. 
 Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn ; 
 Now lost to all — her friends, her virtue fled, 
 Near her betrayer's door she lays her head, [shower. 
 And, pinched with cold, and shrinking from the 
 With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, 
 When idly first, ambitious of the town. 
 She left her wheel and robes of country brown. 
 
 Do thine, sweet Auburn, thine the loveliest train. 
 Do thy fair tribes participate her pain ? 
 Even now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led, 
 At proud men's doors they ask a little bread ! 
 
 Ah, no ! To distant climes, a dreary scene. 
 Where half the convex world intrudes between, 
 Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go, 
 Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe. 
 Far different there from all that charmed before, 
 The various terrors of that horrid shore ; 
 Those blazing suns, that dart a downward ray. 
 And fiercely shed intolerable day ; 
 Those matted woods where birds forget to sing, 
 And silent bats in drowsy clusters cling ; 
 Those poisonous fields with rank luxuriance crowned. 
 Where the dark scorpion gathers death around ; 
 Where at each step the stranger fears to wake 
 The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake ; 
 Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey. 
 And savage men more murderous still than they ; 
 While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies. 
 Mingling the ravaged landscape with the skies. 
 Far diff'erent these from every former scene. 
 The cooling brook, the grassy-vested green. 
 The breezy covert of the warbling grove. 
 That only sheltered thefts of harmless love. 
 
 ! gloomed that parting 
 
 Good heaven ! what ! 
 day. 
 
 That called them from their native walks away ; 
 When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, 
 Hung round the bowers, and fondly looked their last. 
 And took a long farewell, ajid wished in vain 
 For seats like these beyond the western main ; 
 And, shuddering still to face the distant deep. 
 Returned and wopt, and still returned to weep. 
 The good old sire the first prepared to go 
 To new-found worlds, and wept for other's woe ; 
 But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, 
 He only wished for worlds beyond the grave. 
 
 His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, 
 
 The fond companion of his helpless years, 
 
 Silent went next, neglectful of her charms. 
 
 And left a lover's for a father's arms. 
 
 With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes. 
 
 And blest the cot where every pleasure rose ; 
 
 And kissed her thoughtless babes with many a tear. 
 
 And clasped them close, in sorrow doubly dear ; 
 
 Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief 
 
 In all the silent manliness of grief. 
 
 LUXCBV DESOrSCED J THE RCI.V OP NATIOSS. 
 
 0, luxury ! thou cursed by heaven's decree. 
 How ill exchanged are things like these for thee ! 
 How do thy potions, with insidious joy. 
 Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy ! 
 Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown. 
 Boast of a fiorid vigor not their own : 
 At every draught more large and large they grow, 
 A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe ; 
 Till sapped their strength, and every part unsound, 
 Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. 
 
 REFLECTIO.VS OS EMIfTRATIOX. — THE RrHiL VIBTCES EXILED. 
 
 Even now the devastation is begun. 
 And half the business of destruction done ; 
 Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, 
 I see the rural virtues leave the land. 
 Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail. 
 That idly waiting flaps with every gale. 
 Downward they move, a melancholy band, 
 Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. 
 Contented toil, and hospitable care. 
 And kind connubial tenderness are there ; 
 And piety with wishes placed above. 
 And steady loyalty, and faithful love. 
 
 And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid ! 
 Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ; 
 Unfit, in these degenerate times of shame. 
 To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ; 
 Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried. 
 My shame in crowds, my solitary pride. 
 Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe. 
 Thou found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so : 
 Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel, 
 Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well ! 
 Farewell ! and, ! where'er thy voice he tried. 
 On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side, 
 Whether where equinoctial fervors glow. 
 Or winter wraps the polar world in snow, 
 Still let thy voice, prevailing over time. 
 Redress the rigors of the inclement clime : 
 Aid slighted truth with thy persuasive strain. 
 Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain ; 
 Teach him that states, of native strength possest, 
 Though very poor, may still bo very blest ; 
 That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay. 
 As ocean sweeps the labored mole away ; 
 While self-dependent power can time defy, 
 As rocks resist the billows and the sky. 
 
'plural §uu\s of |lraisr for ^Uarrl). 
 
 BRYANT'S " FOREST HYMN." 
 
 The grovo3 were God's first templos. Ere man 
 To how the shaft, and lay the architrave, [learned 
 And spread the roof above them, — ere he framed 
 The lofty vault, to gather and roll back 
 The sound of anthems ; — in the darkling wood. 
 Amidst the oool and silence, he knelt down 
 And offered to the Mightiest solemn thanks 
 And supplication. For his simple heart 
 Might not resist the sacred influences, 
 That, from the stilly twilight of the place. 
 And from the gray old trunks that high in heaven 
 Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound 
 Of the invisible breath that swayed at once 
 All their green tops, stole over him, and bowed 
 His spirit with the thought of boundless power 
 And inaccessible majesty. Ah, why 
 Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect 
 (jod's ancient sanctuaries, and adore 
 Only among the crowd, and under roofs 
 That our frail hands have raised ? Let mo, at least. 
 Hero, in the shadow of this aged wood. 
 Offer one hymn — thrice happy, if it find 
 Acceptance in his ear. 
 
 Father, thy hand 
 Ilath reared these venerable columns. Thou 
 Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down 
 Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose 
 All these fair ranks of trees. They in thy sun 
 Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, 
 And shot towards heaven. The century-living crow, 
 Whose birth was in their tops, grew old and died 
 Among their branches, till, at last, they stood. 
 As now they stand, massy and tall and dark ; 
 Fit shrine for humble worshipper to hold 
 Communion with his Maker. Here are seen 
 No traces of man's pomp or pride ; — no silks 
 Rustle, no jewels shine, nor envious eyes 
 Encounter ; no fantastic carvings show 
 The boast of our vain race to change the form 
 Of thy fair works. But Thou art here — Thou fiU'st 
 The solitude. Thou art in the soft winds 
 That run along the summits of these trees 
 In music ; — Thou art in the cooler breath. 
 That, from the inmost darkness of the place. 
 Comes, scarcely felt ; — the barky trunks, the ground. 
 The fresh moist ground, are all instinct with Thee. 
 Here is continual worship ; — nature, hero. 
 In the tranquillity that Thou dost love. 
 Enjoys thy presence. Noiselessly, around. 
 From perch to perch, the solitary bird 
 Passes ; and yon clear spring, that, 'midst its herbs. 
 
 Wells softly forth, and visits the strong roots 
 
 Of half the mighty forest, tells no tale 
 
 Of all the good it does. Thou hast not left 
 
 Thyself without a witness, in these shades. 
 
 Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength, and grace, 
 
 Are here to speak of Thee. This mighty oak — 
 
 By whose immovable stem I stand and seem 
 
 Almost untiiliilatfd — not a prince. 
 
 In all till |.[ 111 mM w. .rid beyond the deep, 
 
 E'n « M III I ■> loftily as he 
 
 Wi.i; !i I iiiijil of leaves with which 
 
 Thy liiMil 111 .:i.ii .1 him. Nestled at his root 
 Is btauty, such as blooms not in the glare 
 Of the broad sun. That delicate forest-flower, 
 With scented breath, and Innk sn like a smile. 
 Seems, as it issues fritm t!i. ~!i ii- 1. - Mi..uld, 
 An emanation of the i 1 1 i 1 . _ I 
 A visible token of tli.- n; . i _ 1 
 That are the soul of thi- m i.|. mm ■■!-■■ 
 
 My heart is awed within me, when I think 
 Of the great miracle that still goes on, 
 In silence, round me — the perpetual work 
 Of thy creation, finished, yet renewed 
 Forever. Written on thy works I read 
 The lesson of thy own eternity. 
 Lo ! all grow old and die — but see, again. 
 How on the faltering footsteps of decay 
 Youth presses — ever gay and beautiful youth 
 In all its beautiful forms. These lofty trees 
 Wave not less proudly that their ancestors 
 Moulder beneath them. Oh, there is not lost 
 One of earth's charms : upon her bosom yet, 
 After the flight of untold centuries. 
 The freshness of her far beginning lies. 
 And yet shall lie. Life mocks the idle hate 
 Of his 'arch enemy Death — yea, seals himself 
 Upon the si'|iu!i'lirr, ami l.liiMiii- aii'i Miiik-S, 
 
 Makes his own luinii-liiiinit. I'..r 111' raiiie forth 
 From thine uwu bu^um, and sliall !i;lvc no end. 
 
 There have been holy men who hid themselves 
 Deep in the woody wilderness, and gave 
 Their lives to thought and prayer, till they outlived 
 The generation born with them, nor seemed 
 Less aged than tho hoary trees and rocks 
 Around them ; — and there have been holy men 
 Who deemed it were not well to pass life thus. 
 But let me often to these solitudes 
 Retire, and in thy presence reassure 
 My feeble virtue. Here its encmic.i. 
 The passions, at thy plainer footsteps shrink 
 And tremble and are still. God ! when Thou 
 
40 
 
 RURAL POETRY. BRYANT MERRICK MILTON. 
 
 Dost scare the world with tempests, sett'st on fire 
 The heavens with falling thunderbolts, or fiU'st 
 With all the waters of the firmament 
 The swift dark whirlwind, that uproots the woods 
 And drowns the villages : when, at thy call. 
 Uprises the great deep and throws himself 
 Upon the continent, and overwhelms 
 Its cities — who forgets not, at the sight 
 Of these tremendous tokens ef thy power. 
 His pride, and lays his strifes and follies by ? 
 O, from these sterner aspects of thy face 
 Spare me and mine, nor let us need the wrath 
 Of the ma<l, unchained elements, to teach 
 Who rules them. Be it ours to meditate 
 In these calm shades thy milder majesty, 
 And to the beautiful order of thy works 
 Learn to conform the order of our lives. 
 
 MERRICK'S PSALM EIGHTH. 
 
 Immortal King ! through earth's wide frame, 
 
 How great thy honor, praise, and name ! 
 
 Whose reign o'er distant worlds extends, 
 
 Whose glory heaven's vast height transcends. 
 
 Prom infants Thou canst strength upraise. 
 
 And form their lisping tongues to praise : 
 
 By these the vengeance-breathing foe. 
 
 Thy mightier terrors taught to know, 
 
 In mute astonishment shall stand. 
 
 And bow beneath thy conquering hand. 
 
 When, rapt in thought, with wakeful eye 
 
 I view the wonders of the sky. 
 
 Whose frame thy fingers o'er our head 
 
 In rich magnificence have spread ; 
 
 The silent moon, with waxing horn. 
 
 Along the ethereal region borne ; 
 
 The stars with vivid lustre crowned. 
 
 That nightly walk their destined round ; — 
 
 Lord ! what is man, that in thy care 
 
 His humble lot should find a share ? 
 
 Or what the son of man, that Thou 
 
 Thus to his wants thy ear should bow ? 
 
 His rank a while, by thy decree. 
 
 The angelic tribes beneath them see. 
 
 Till round him thy imparted rays 
 
 With unextinguished glory blaze. 
 
 Subjected to his feet by Thee, 
 
 To him all nature bows the knee ; 
 
 The beasts in him their lord behold ; 
 
 The grazing herd, the bleating fold. 
 
 The savage race, a countless train. 
 
 That range at largo the extended plain ; 
 
 The fowls, of various wing, that fly 
 
 O'er the vast desert of the sky ; 
 
 And all the watery tribes, that glide 
 
 Through paths, to human sight denied. 
 
 Immortal King ! through earth's wide frame. 
 
 How great thy honor, praise, and name ! 
 
 MILTON'S "MORNING HYMN" 
 
 OF ADAM AND EVE. 
 
 These are thy glorious works. Parent of good ! 
 Almighty ! thine this universal frame, 
 Thus wondrm,.. fiir ; thv.-rir how wondrous then ! 
 Unspeakalilr, uli.i ,-ilC-i ::\„,^,: these heavens 
 
 ToUSinvisililr, .„■ ,l,„,iv -r,, 
 
 In these thy l.iur-t w.nks ; yet these declare 
 Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. 
 Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light. 
 Angels ; for ye behold Him, and with songs 
 And choral symphoni.-. Jmv ivith.iut iii_'lit, 
 Circle his throne rcjni.iim ; y,- n, li, :m^„, 
 
 On earth join all ye ur.nf i,, ,m,,| 
 
 Him first. Him last, Ilim iiii>|.t. :in,| without end. 
 
 Fairest of stars, last in the train of night. 
 
 If better thou belong not to the dawn. 
 
 Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling mori 
 
 , ]'r;ii-i.' Him in thy sphere, 
 •\w 1 1 linur of prime. 
 I u-ii hi l)oth eye and soul, 
 gi' ai.T, sound his praise 
 both when thou climb'st, 
 hast gained, and when thou 
 
 in, now fly'st. 
 
 With thy bri fill I 
 Whileday an . 
 Thou Sun, ..r III 
 Acknowledge 1 1 
 In thy eternal e 
 And when high 
 
 fall'st. 
 Moon, that now meet'st th 
 
 With the fixed stars, fixed in their orb that flies, 
 And ye five other wandering fires that move 
 In mystic dance not without song, resound 
 His praise, who out of darkness called up light. 
 Air, and ye Elements, the eldest birth 
 Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run 
 Perpetual circle, multiform ; and mix 
 And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change 
 Vary to our great Maker still new praise. 
 Ye Mists and Exhalations that now rise 
 From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gr.ay. 
 Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold. 
 In honor to the world's great Author rise, 
 AVhether to deck with clouds the uncolored sky. 
 Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers. 
 Rising or falling still advance his praise. 
 His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow. 
 Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye Pines, 
 With every Plant in sign of worship wave. 
 Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow. 
 Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. 
 Join voices, all ye living Souls ; ye Birds, 
 That, singing, up to heaven's gate ascend. 
 Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise. 
 Vc tliiii 111 uatrr,- -li.le, and ye that walk 
 Tlh' .a till, a III I talrly tread, or lowly creep ; 
 
 To hill ur Millcy, luuiitain, or fresh shade. 
 Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. 
 Hail, universal Lord ! be bounteous still 
 To give us only good ; and if the night 
 Have gathered aught of evil, or concealed, 
 Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark. 
 
''^^''?U\V . 
 
 SPRING-APRIL, 
 
 liMoointic Ill's ''Jarnur's tUii. 
 
 Invocation, kc. Seed-time. Tl 
 Milking. The d.iiry. Sufft 
 forth. Sheep fnn 
 butcher. 
 
 Morning walks. 
 v5uiit.iK tiiccse. spring coming 
 fnnit uf changing. Laraibs at piay. The 
 ipathy yields to Necessity and Hope. 
 
 COME, blest Spirit ! whatsoe'er thou art, 
 Thou rushing warmth that hover'st round my heart, 
 Sweet inmate, hail ! thou source of sterling joy, 
 That poverty itself cannot destroy. 
 Be thou my Muse ; and, faithful still to mo, 
 Retrace the paths uf wild obscurity. 
 No deeds of arms my humblo linos rehearse, 
 No Alpine wonders thunder through my verso. 
 The roaring cataract, the snow-topt hill, 
 Inspiring awe, till breath itself stands still : 
 Nature's sublimer scenes ne'er charmed mine oyea. 
 Nor science led me through the boundlesjs skies ; 
 From meaner objects far my-rapturos flow : 
 0, point these raptures ! bid my bosom glow ! 
 
 And lead my soul to ecstasies of praise 
 
 For all the blessings of my infant days ! 
 
 Bear me through regions where gay fancy dwells ; 
 
 But mould to truth's fair form what memory tells. 
 
 GILES, THE farmer's BOY, HIS JOTS, SORROWS, AND IDEAS ; 
 
 Live, trifling incidents, and grace my song, 
 That to the humblest menial belong : 
 To him whose drudgery unheeded goes. 
 His joys unreckoned as his cares or woes ; 
 Though joys and cares in every path are sown. 
 And youthful minds have feelings of their own, 
 Quick springing sorrows, transient as the dew, 
 Delights from trifles, trifles ever new. 
 'T was thus with Gii-es : meek, fatherless, and poor : 
 Labor his portion, but ho felt no more ; 
 No stripes, no tyranny, his steps pursued ; 
 Ilis life was constant, cheerful servitude : 
 Strange to the world, he wore a bashful look, 
 The fields his study, nature was his book ; 
 And, as revolving Seasons changed the scene 
 From heat to cold, tempestuous to serene. 
 Though every change still varied his employ, 
 Vet each new duty brought its sharo of joy. 
 
RURAL POETRY. BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 Giles's home and master. — grafton. — euston, in sh 
 folk ; scenes of giles's boyhood. 
 Where noble Grafton spreads his rich domains, 
 Round Euston's watered vale, and sloping plains, 
 Where woods and groves in solemn grandeur rise, 
 Where the kite brooding unmolested flies ; 
 The woodeocls and the painted pheasant race. 
 And skulking foxes, destined for the chase ; 
 
 There Giles, untaught 
 Through every cii|im'. 
 There his first tli.iuuli 
 That stamp devition < 
 
 og, strayed 
 ul winding glade; 
 ^ charms inclined, 
 
 A little farm hi.s generous master tilled. 
 Who with peculiar grace his station filled ; 
 By deeds „f l,..siiit:ility c„,l,.arc.l, 
 
 Served I'l !i..ti.n,, l-r hi- wmlh revered; 
 
 Ahii|.|iv -li-i-inr, l.l.-i 111- |.|.iilruus board, 
 His ficMs u.iv Ini.lliil, iiiul h,~ iKuns well stored. 
 And four-score ewes he fed, a sturdy team. 
 And lowing kine that grazed beside the stream : 
 Unceasing industry he kept in view ; 
 And never lacked a job for Giles to do. 
 
 THE COMING OF SPRING ; VERDURE. 
 
 Fled now the sullen murmurs of the north, 
 The splendid raiment of the Spring peeps forth ; 
 Her universal green, and the clear sky. 
 Delight still more and more the gazing eye. 
 Wide o'er the fields, in rising moisture strong. 
 Shoots up the simple flower, or creeps along 
 The mellowed soil ; imbibing fairer hues, 
 Or sweets from frequent showers and evening dews ; 
 That summon from its shed the slumbering ploughs. 
 While health impregnates every breeze that blows. 
 
 HORSE-PLOCGHISG ; THE PLOCGHED FIELD ; BIRDS THAT 
 
 No wheels support the diving pointed share ; 
 No groaning ox is doomed to labor there ; 
 No helpmates teach the d 
 
 teed his road 
 and the goad); 
 
 es hi; 
 
 Draws his lif»h |.:ualklf, and, widening still. 
 Treads slow the heavy dale, or climbs the hill : 
 Strong on the wing his busy followers play, [day ; 
 AVhere writhing earth-worms meet the unwelcome 
 Till all is changed, and hill and level down 
 Assume a livery of sober brown : — 
 
 Hour after hour and day to day succeeds ; 
 Till every clod and deep-drawn furrow spreads 
 To crumbling mould ; a level surface clear. 
 And strewed with oift-n to crown the rising year ; 
 And o'er the whole Giles once transverse again, 
 In earth's moist bosom buries up the grain. 
 
 The work is done ; no more to Man is given ; 
 The grateful farmer trusts the rest to Heaven. 
 Yet oft with anxious heart he looks around. 
 And marks the first green blade that breaks the 
 In fancy sees his trembling oats uprun, [ground ; 
 His tufted barley yellow with the sun ; 
 Sees clouds propitious shed their timely store, 
 And all his harvest gathered round his door. 
 
 Ihit still unsafe tliv 1m:_- -v,,.;,, .,i,nn l..>l.)w, 
 A favorite morsel with lli- n".l> ;uM -r.nv ; 
 From field to field the fluck increasing goes ; 
 To level crops most formidable foes : 
 Their danger well the wary plunderers know. 
 And place a watch on some conspicuous bough ; 
 Yet oft the skulking gunner by surprise 
 Will scatter death amongst them as they rise. 
 These, bung in triumph round the spacious field. 
 At best will but a short-lived terror yield : 
 Nor guards of property (not penal law. 
 But harmless riflemen of rags and straw) ; 
 Familiarized to these, they boldly rove. 
 Nor heed such sentinels that never move. 
 Let, then, your birds lie prostrate on the earth. 
 In dying posture, and with wings stretched forth ; 
 Shift them at eve or morn from place to place. 
 And death shall terrify the pilfering race ; 
 In the mid air, while circling round and round, 
 They call their lifeless comrades from the ground ; 
 With quickening wing, and notes of loud alarm. 
 Warn the whole flock to shun the impending harm. 
 
 GILES'S WALK AT DAWN ; HIS MATINS, AND THOSE OF THE 
 MORNING BIRDS ; THE BLACKBIRD, WHITE-THROAT, TUIICSH. 
 
 This task had Giles, in fields remote from home ; 
 Oft has he wished the rosy mom to come. 
 \'et never famed was he nor foremost found 
 To break the seal of sleep ; his sleep was sound : 
 But when at daybreak summoned from his bed. 
 Light as the lark that carolled o'er his head, — 
 His sandy way deep-worn by hasty shower: 
 
 Again disturbed, when Giles with wearying strides 
 From ridge to ridge the ponderous harrow guides ; 
 His heels deep sinking every step he goes. 
 Till dirt usurp the empire of his shoes. 
 Welcome, green headland ! firm beneath his feet ; 
 Welcome the friendly bank's refreshing seat ; 
 There, warm with toil, his panting horses browse 
 Their sheltering canopy of pendent boughs ; 
 Till rest, delicious, chase each transient pain. 
 And new-born vigor swell in every vein. 
 
 rched with oaks that formed fantastic bowers, 
 Waving aloft their towering branches proud. 
 In borrowed tinges from the eastern cloud 
 (Whence inspiration, pure as ever flowed, 
 And genuine transport in his bosom glowed) — 
 His own shrill matin joined the various notes 
 Of nature's music, from a thousand throats : 
 The blackbird strove with emulation sweet. 
 And echo answered from her close retreat ; 
 The sporting white-throat, on some twig's end borne 
 Poured hymns to freedom and the rising morn ; 
 
43 
 
 Stopped in her song, perobanoe, the starting thrush 
 Shook a white shower from the black-thoru bush, 
 Where dew-drops thick as early blossoms bung, 
 And trembled as the minstrel sweetly sung. 
 
 PHEASANT. — TUB OBATU ; WOOU J FOX AND HIS VICTIMS. 
 
 Acro.ss his path, in either grove to hide, 
 The timid rabbit scouted by his side ; 
 Or bold cock-pheasant stalked along the road, 
 Whose gold and purple tints alternate glowed. 
 But groves no further fenced the devious way ; 
 A wide-extended heath before him lay, 
 M'hcre on the grass the stagnant shower had run. 
 And shone a mirror to the rising sun 
 (Thus doubly seen), lighting a distant wood. 
 Giving new life to each expanding bud ; 
 EtFacing quick the dewy foot-marks found, 
 Where prowling lleynard trod his nightly round ; 
 To shun whose thefts 't was Giles's evening care 
 Ilis feathered victims to suspend In air, 
 High on the bough that nodded o'er his head ; 
 And thus each morn to strew the field with dead. 
 
 His simple errand done, he homeward hies ; 
 Another instantly its place supplies. 
 The clattering dairy-maid immersed in steam, 
 Singing and scrubbing midst her milk and cream. 
 Bawls out, ' Go fetch the cows ! ' — he hears no more ; 
 For pigs, and ducks, and turkeys, throng the door. 
 And sitting hens, for constant war prepared ; 
 A concert strange to that which late he heard. 
 Straight to the meadow then he whistling goes ; 
 With well-known halloo calls his lazy cows : 
 Down the rich pasture heedlessly they graze, 
 Or hear the summons with an idle gaze ; 
 For well they know the cow-yard yields no more 
 Its tempting fragrance, nor Its wintry store. 
 Reluctance marks their steps, sedate and slow ; 
 The right of conquest all the law they know : 
 Subordinate they one by one succeed ; 
 And one among them always takes the lead, 
 Is ever foremost, whercsoo'er they stray ; 
 Allowed precedence, undisputed sway ; 
 With jealous pride her station is maintained. 
 For many a broil that post of honor gained. 
 
 At home, the yard affords a grateful scone : 
 For Spring makes e'en a miry cow-yard clean. 
 Thence from its chalky bed behold convoyed 
 The rich manure that drenching Winter made, 
 Which, piled near home, grows green with many a 
 A promised nutriment fi)r Autumn's seed. [weed, 
 Forth comes the maid, and like the mornjng smiles; 
 The mistress too, and followed close by Giles. 
 
 A friendly tripod forms their humble seat, 
 With pails bright scoured, and delicately sweet. 
 
 Where shadowing elms obstruct the morning ray. 
 Begins their work, begins the simple lay ; 
 The full-charged udder yields its willing streams, 
 While Mary sings some lover's amorous dreams ; 
 And crouching Giles beneath a neighboring tree 
 Tugs o'er his pail, and chants with eiiuul glee ; 
 AVhose hat with tattered brim, of nap so bare, 
 From the cow's side purloins a coat of hair, 
 A mottled ensign of his harmless trade, 
 An unambitious, peaceable cockade. 
 
 As unambitious, too, that cheerful aid 
 The mistress yields beside her rosy maid : 
 With joy she views her plenteous recking s 
 And bears a brimmer to the dairy door ; 
 Ilcr o..w^ .liMiiiys.'.l, the lusrinus uu-.vl I., r 
 
 Till •■'-•■ .■,.,,,, ,.>,,ll th..M 1^.;M..I i ■ 
 
 At once luregueti iU quality and name ; 
 From knotty particles first floating wide 
 
 Cc.n<;caliim' InittrrV -la-ln-.I fr^m side to side ; 
 
 Sir- .1111- ■■: I,. *■, ;(iiii. ilii ..n^:i tl.nving coolcrs stray. 
 An. I mill wholesome whey. 
 
 I'ui . li: _ II.: I \\ -. cold and clear, 
 
 I'ur uaiiiiiii^ .-Liiil-.aai.- aiL uiiuclcomo here. 
 
 Brisk goes the work beneath each busy hand, 
 And Giles must trudge, whoever gives command ; 
 A Gibeonite, that serves them all by turns : 
 He drains the pump, from him the fagot burns ; 
 From him the noisy hog?: demand th.-ir f..od ; 
 While at his heelsVun nl,M,^ ,, -In, in,, I. mud. 
 Or down his path in r\] ■ i' . u i i 
 With equal claims uiMii ',i ii i, i,i_ ,ih.[. 
 Thus wastes the mom, lill > r h uitli i I. ;i-iiro sees 
 The bustle o'er, and pressed the new-made cheese. 
 
 srPFOLK SKra-MILK CUHKSE. — LONDON THE GRAVE 0? PRO- 
 VISIONS ; ITS MARKET AND SUPPLIES. 
 
 Unrivalled stands thy country cheese, Giles ! 
 Whose very name alone engenders smiles ; 
 Whose fame abroad by every tongue is spoke, 
 The well-kuown butt of many a flinty joke, 
 That pass like current coin the nation through ; 
 And, ah ! experience proves the satire true. 
 Provision's grave, thou ever-craving mart, 
 Dependent, huge Metropolis ! where Art 
 IK-r pouring thousands stows in breathless rooms, 
 Midst pois'nous smokes and steams, and rattling 
 Where grandeur revels in unbounded stores; [looms; 
 Restraint, a slighted stranger at their doors ! 
 Thou, like a whirlpool, drain'st the countries round, 
 Till London market, London price, resound 
 Through every town, round every passing load, 
 And dairy produce throngs the eastern road : 
 Delicious veal, and butter, every hour, 
 From Essex lowlands, and the banks of Stour ; 
 And further far, where numerous herds repose, 
 From Orwell's brink, from Wevony, or Ouse. 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF THE I 
 
 3 run mad for cream, 
 thing but its name ; 
 
 ty treads, 
 lilie these, 
 
 Hence Suefolk ' dairy-wi 
 And leave their milk with 
 Its name derision 
 And strangers tell 
 To cheese converti'^l, wlmi '^ni ^"- "■ ouclm. . 
 What, but the ci.iiHiH.ii lirtu-"! ;. iiost! 
 If drought o'ertak. il l.^t,-, th.n .!,,■ kmfe. 
 Most fair it bids for stubborn length of life. 
 And, like the oaken shelf whereon 't is laid, 
 Mocks the weak efforts of the bending blade 
 Or in the hog-troii-li nvt-^ in perfrct spite, 
 Toobig to swall"". ini'l '■'•• b:ii'l *" ''i'^'=- 
 Inglorious vieturv ' 
 Or Severn's flowery 'l:i 
 Was your rich milk tc 
 Farewell your pride ! farewell renowned ch 
 The skimmer dread, whose ravages alone 
 Thus turn the mead's sweet nectar into stoi 
 
 Neglected now the early daisy lies : 
 Nor thou, pale primrose, bloom'st the only prize : 
 Advancing Spring profusely spreads abroad 
 Flowers of all hues, with sweetest fragrance stored ; 
 Where'er she treads, Love gladdens every plain. 
 Delight on tiptoe bears her lucid train ; 
 Sweet Hope with conscious brow before her flies. 
 Anticipating wealth from summer skies ; 
 All nature feels her renovating sway ; 
 The sheep-fed pasture, and the meadow gay. 
 And trees, and shrubs, no longer budding seen. 
 Display the new-grown branch of lighter green ; 
 On airy downs the shepherd idling lies. 
 And sees to-morrow in the marbled skies. ■ 
 Here, then, my soul, thy darling theme pursue, 
 For every day was Giles a shepherd too. 
 
 High fences, proud to charm the gazing eye. 
 Where many a nestling first essays to fly ; 
 Where blows the woodbine, faintly streaked with red. 
 And rests on every bough its tender head ; 
 Round the young ash its twining branches meet. 
 Or orown the hawthorn with its odors sweet. 
 
 PLEASIIKE IN TBE GAMBOLS 
 
 who have felt and s 
 
 FOOD NECESSARY-, FENCES, WOODBINE, ASH, UA« IIK'H.'.. 
 
 Small was his charge : no wilds had" they to roam 
 But bright enclosures circling round their home. 
 Nor yellow-blossomed furze, nor stubborn thorn. 
 The heath's rough produce, had their fleeces torn : 
 Yet ever roving, ever seeking thee. 
 Enchanting spirit, dear Variety ! 
 happy tenants, prisoners of a day ! 
 Released to ease, to pleasure, and to play ; 
 Indulged through every field by turns to range, 
 And taste them all in one continual change. 
 For though luxuriant their grassy food. 
 Sheep long confined but loathe the present good ; 
 
 Bleating around the homeward gate they meet. 
 
 And starve, and pine, with plenty at their feet. 
 
 Loosed from the winding lane, a joyful throng, 
 
 See, o'er yon pasture how they pour along ! 
 
 Giles round their boundaries takes his usual stroll ; 
 
 Sees every pass secured, and fences whole ; 
 1 Suffolk, a county ui the eastern part of Englan.1, with 
 
 the North Si 
 
 bridgeshire v 
 
 „t Norfolk north, Essex south, and Cam- 
 t i population in 1851, 337,000. 
 
 SVMPATHT WITH INNOCENCE 
 
 Say, ye that know, ye 
 Spring's morning smiloH, 
 Say, did you give the tli 
 Did your eye brighten, ' 
 Leaped o'er your path n 
 Or gazed in merry eUi>t. 
 Yo who can smile, to wi 
 
 If spotless innocence, and infant mirth, 
 Excites to praise, or gives reflection birth ; 
 In shades like these pursue your favorite joy. 
 Midst Nature's revels, sports that never cloy. 
 
 LAMBKINS AT PLAY. 
 
 A few begin a short but vigorous race. 
 And indolence abashed soon flies the place ; 
 Thus challenged forth, see thither, one by one. 
 From every side assembling playmates run : 
 A thousand wily antics mark their stay, 
 A starting crowd, impatient of delay. 
 Like the fond dove from fearful prison freed, 
 Each seems to say, ' Come, let us try our speed ; ' 
 Away they scour, impetuous, ardent, strong. 
 The green turf trembling as they bound along ; 
 Adown the slope, then up the hillock climb. 
 Where every molehill is a bed of thyme ; 
 There panting stop ; yet scarcely can refrain ; 
 A bird, a leaf, will set them off again : 
 Or, if a gale with strength unusual blow. 
 Scattering the wild-brier roses into snow, 
 Tlieir little limbs increasing efforts try ; 
 Like the torn flower the fair assemblage fly. 
 
 LAMBS, LIKE SPRING FLORETS, DESTINED TO EARLY DEATH. 
 
 Ah, fallen rose ! sad emblem of their doom ; 
 Frail as thyself, they perish while they bloom ! 
 Though unoffending innocence may plead. 
 Though frantic ewes may mourn the savage deed. 
 Their shepherd comes, a messenger of blood, 
 And drives them bleating from their sports and food : 
 Care loads his brow, and pity wrings his heart. 
 For, lo, the murdering butcher with his cart 
 Demands the firstlings of bis flock to die, 
 And makes a sport of life and liberty ! 
 His gay companions Giles beholds no more ; 
 Closed are their eyes, their fleeces drenched in gore; 
 Nor can compassion, with her softest notes. 
 Withhold the knife that plunges through their 
 Down, indignation ! hence, ideas foul ! [throats. 
 Away the shocking image from my soul ! 
 Let kindlier visitants attend my way. 
 Beneath approaching Summer's fervid ray ; 
 Nor thankless glooms obtrude, nor cares annoy, 
 Whilst the sweet theme is Universal Joy. 
 
4!:istor:il5 for J^jri 
 
 'TITYUUS AND MELIBtEUS." 
 A BUCOI.IC. 
 
 I Miintuan neighbors in the < 
 
 Bexeath the shade which becohen boughs diffuse, 
 You, Tityrus, entertain your sylvan muse ; 
 Kound the wide world in banishment wo roam, 
 Forced from our plesvsing fields and 'native home ; 
 While, stretched at ease, you sing your happy loves ; 
 And Amaryllis fills the shady groves. 
 
 TITVBrS. 
 
 These blessings, friend, a deity bestowed ; 
 For never can I deem him less than god. 
 The tender firstlin<;s •■{my wnMlly l.ieed 
 
 Shall on his holy ;iltav. lit,,, 1,1 i. 
 
 He gave my kine tc> -m/r th,- iIum'i v phiin, 
 And to my pijKj reiu'wia the nual >lniin. 
 
 I envy not your fortune, but admire, 
 That while the raging sword and wasteful fire 
 Destroy the wretched neighborhood around, 
 No hostile arms approach your happy ground. 
 Far different is my fate ; my feeble goats 
 With pains I drive from their forsaken cots ; 
 And this you see I scarcely drag along, 
 AVho yeaning on the rocks has left her young 
 (The hope and promise of my failing fold). 
 My loss, by dire portents, the gods foretold ; 
 For, had I not been blind, I might have seen 
 Yon riven oak, the fairest of the green. 
 And the hoarse raven, on the blasted bough, 
 By croaking from the left presaged the coming blow. 
 But tell me, Tityrus, what heavenly power 
 Preserved your fortunes in that fatal hour? 
 
 Fool that I wai! ! I tliought imperial Rome 
 Like Mantua, where on market-days we come. 
 And thither drive our tender lambs from home. 
 So kids and whelps their sires and dams express ; 
 
 .\nd so the great T measured by the less. 
 
 liut country-towns, compared witli her, appear 
 
 Like shrubs, when lofty cypresses are near. 
 
 What great occasion called you hence to Rome ? 
 
 Freedom, which camo at length, though slow to 
 Nor did my search of liberty begin, [come. 
 
 Till my black hairs were changed upon my chin : 
 Nor .^ma^ylIis would vouchsafe a look. 
 
 Till i;;,l:,t.:,' .,h ;M1. , I.Hlids I broke. 
 
 Till iIm II .1 in Ipl, li.,|iele.ss, homely swain, 
 I sniijir III ii . I i !i: iinr ospircd to gain ; 
 Th..„^-1, „i;,„> :, , , i„, iv„„, „,y folds was bought. 
 And many a .-li. i -. 1m imiiilIiv miirkets brought, 
 Yetall thelittl.' iln.t I -..i I -|,r,it. 
 And still returiRil a- miiitv :t- I went. 
 
 We stood amazed to see your mistress mourn ; 
 Unknowing that she pined for your return : 
 We wondered why she kept her fruit so long, 
 For whom so late the ungathered apples hung. 
 But now the wonder ceases, since I see 
 She kept them only, Tityrus, for thee. 
 For thee the bubbling springs appeared to mourn. 
 And whispering pines made vows for thy return. 
 
 What shonld I do? while here I was enchained ; 
 No glimpse of godlike liberty remained ; 
 Nor could I hope in any place but there 
 To find a god so present to my prayer. 
 There first the youth of heavenly birth I viewed. 
 For whom our monthly victims are renewed. 
 Ho heard my vows, and graciously decreed 
 My grounds to be restored, my former flocks to feed. 
 
 0, fortunate old man ! whoso farm remains 
 l''or you sufficient, and requites your pains, 
 Tliough rushes overspread the neighboring plains. 
 Though hero the marshy grounds approach your 
 And there the soil a stony harvest yields. [fields. 
 Your teeming ewes shall no strange meadows try, 
 Nor fear a rot from tainted company. 
 Behold, yon bordering fence of sallow trees [bees ; 
 Is fraught with flowers, the flowers are fraught with 
 The busy bees, with a soft, murmuring strain. 
 Invite to gentle sleep the laboring swain ; 
 While from the neighboring rock, with rural songs, 
 The pruncr's voice the pleasing dream prolongs ; 
 
Stock-doves and turtles tell their amorous pain, 
 And, from the loftj elms, of love complain. 
 
 TITTBCS. 
 
 The inhabitants of seas and skies shall change, 
 And fish on shore and stags in air shall range, 
 The banished Parthian dwell on Arar's brink. 
 And the blue German shall the Tigris drink, 
 Ere I, forsaking gratitude and truth, 
 Forget the figure of that godlike youth. 
 
 MELIBCECS. 
 
 But we must beg our bread in climes unknown, 
 Beneath the scorching or the freezing zone : 
 And some to far Oasis shall be sold, 
 Or try the Libyan heat ..r Scythiiui cold ; 
 The rest amon>; tli- I'.iiiin- l.r r,,i,|i„iHl, — 
 A race of men I r . iii ' i' . i 'li-,i"inijd. 
 6, must the wr. t . i . ii . i inMuni, 
 
 Nor after length ul lullin- ,) i.ii-- ii-turn? 
 Are we condemned, by fate's unjust decree. 
 No more our houses and our homes to see ? 
 Or shall wo mount again the rural throne, 
 And rule the country kingdoms, once our own? 
 Did we for these barbarians plant and sow ? 
 On these, on these, our happy fields bestow? [flow ! 
 Good Heaven ! what dire effects from civil discord 
 
 Now let me graft my pears, and prune the vine — 
 Tliu fruit is theirs, the labor only mine. 
 Farewell my pastures, my paternal stock. 
 My fruitful fields, and my more fruitful flock ! 
 No more, my goats, shall I behold you climb 
 The steepy cliffs, or crop the flowery thyme ! 
 No more, extended in the grot below. 
 Shall see you browsing on the mountain's brow 
 The prickly shrubs ; and after on the bare, 
 Lean down the deep abyss, and hang in air. 
 No more my sheep shall sip the morning dew ; 
 No more my song shall please the rural crew ; 
 Adieu, my tuneful pipe ! and all the world adieu ! 
 
 This night, at least, with me forget your care ! 
 Chestnuts and curds and cream shall be your fare ; 
 The carpet-ground shall be with leaves o'erspread. 
 And boughs shall weave a covering for your head. 
 For, see ! yon sunny hill the shade extends, 
 And curling smoke from cottages ascends ! 
 
 HERBERT-S "NORTHERN SPRING.^ 
 
 A DESCRIPTIVE IDYL. 
 
 Yestreen the mountain's rugged brow 
 ■\Vas mantled o'er with dreary snow ; 
 The sun set red behind the hill. 
 And every breath of wind was still ; 
 But ere he rose, the southern blast 
 A veil o'er heaven's blue arch had cast ; 
 Thick rolled the clouds, and genial rain 
 Poured the wide deluge o'er the plain. 
 
 Fair glens and verdant vales appear. 
 
 And warmth awakes the budding year. 
 
 0, 't is the touch of fairy hand 
 
 That wakes the spring of northern land ! 
 
 It warms not there by slow degrees. 
 
 With changeful pulse, the uncertain breeze ; 
 
 But sudden on the wondering sight 
 
 Bursts forth the beam of living light, 
 
 And instant verdure springs around. 
 
 And magic flowers bedeck the ground. 
 
 Returned from regions far away, 
 
 The red-winged throstle pours his lay ; 
 
 The soaring snipe salutes the spring, 
 
 While the breeze whistles through his wing ; 
 
 And, as he hails the melting snows, 
 
 The heath-cock claps his wing and crows. 
 
 IIELEAGER'S "SPRING.' 
 
 AN IDYL. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 J. S. BUCKMINSTBR.' 
 
 Now Winter's storms, which chilled the sky. 
 Before the tepid breezes fly ; 
 Smiling advance the rosy hours. 
 Strewing around their purple flowers ; 
 Brown earth is crowned with herbage green. 
 And decked with bloom each twig is seen ; 
 The rose displays its lovely hues 
 In meads, which quaff the morning dews ; 
 His whistle shrill the shepherd blows ; 
 His kids the gladsome goatherd knows ; 
 E'en now I see the sailor's boat, 
 Wafted by gentle breezes, float ; 
 And Bacchus' girls, with ivy crowned. 
 Shout, lo ! through the echoing ground. 
 The bees in clusters round the hive. 
 Loaded with liquid sweets, arrive ; 
 And, murmuring still in busy mood. 
 Elaborate their luscious food. 
 The race of warblers ' pour their throats ; ' 
 The blue wave wafts the halcyon's notes ; 
 The swallow twittering flits along ; 
 The white swan pours his piercing song ; 
 And Philomela mourns the woods among. 
 
 Does, then, the green earth teem with gladness 7 
 Has Nature dropt her robe of sadness ? 
 Do the swains pipe ; the flocks rejoice ; 
 The mountains echo Bacchus' voice ; 
 The mariners their sails unloose ; 
 The bees distil their luscious juice ? 
 Has spring inspired the warbling throng ? 
 — And can't the poet make a song ? 
 
 of Decapolia, east of the Sea of Galilee. He wrote in Greek, 
 ard first collected a Greek Anthology. The translation was 
 made hy that eleirant schol.ir, the lamented pastor of Brat- 
 '■ 1 church, Boston, and first appeared in the Litertu-y 
 
 Miscellany, 1805. 
 
^nnstroiui's "^rt of iljcaltl).' 
 
 ADDBES3 TO HEALTH. — HER ATTRIBUTES AND POWER. 
 
 Daighter of Piean, queen of every joy, 
 Hygcia ; ' whose indulgent smile sustains 
 The various race lu.\uriant nature pours, 
 Anil on the immortal essences bestows 
 Immortal youth ; auspicious, descend ! 
 Thou, cheerful guardian of the rolling year. 
 Whether thou wauton'st on the western gale, 
 Or shak'st the rigid pinions of the north, 
 Diffusest life and vigor tlimugh the tracts 
 Of air, through earth, and ..ccan's deep domain. 
 When through the blue serenity of heaven 
 Thy power approaches, all the wasteful host 
 Of pain and sickness, squalid and deformed, 
 Confounded sink into the loathsome gloom, 
 Where, in deep Erebus involved, the fiends 
 Grow more profane. Whatever shapes of death, 
 Shook from the hideous chambers of the globe, 
 Swarm through the shuddering air: whatever plagues 
 Or meagre famine breeds, or with slow wings 
 Rise from the putrid watery element. 
 The damp waste forest, motionless and rank. 
 That smothers earth and all the breathless winds, 
 Or the vile carnage of the inhuman field ; 
 Whatever baneful breathes the rotten south ; 
 Whatever ills the extremes or sudden change 
 Of cold and hot, or moist and dry, produce ; 
 They fly thy pure effulgence ; they, and all 
 The secret poisons of avenging Heaven, 
 And all the pale tribes halting in the train 
 Of vice and heedless pleasure : or if aught 
 The comet's glare amid the burning sky. 
 Mournful eclipse, or planets ill combined, 
 Portend disastrous to the vital world. 
 Thy salutary power averts their rage. 
 Averts the general bane : and but for thee 
 Nature would sicken, nature soon would die. 
 
 Without thy cheerful active energy 
 No rapture swells the breast, no poet sings. 
 No more the maids of Ilelicim delight. 
 Come, then, with me, goddess, heavenly-gay ! 
 Begin the song ; and let it sweetly flow. 
 And let it sweetly teach thy wholesome laws : 
 ' How best the fickle fabric to support 
 Of mortal man ; in healthful body how 
 
 1 Hygeia, the goildcss of health, was, according to 1 
 genealogy of the heathen deities, the daughter of £sculaptu 
 who, as well as Apollo, was distinguished by the name 
 Pseon, Psean, or Pieeon. 
 
 A healthful mind the longest to maintain.' 
 'T is hard, in such a strife of rules, to ehooso 
 The best, and those of most extensive use ; 
 Harder in clear and animated song 
 Dry philosophic precepts to convey. 
 Yet with tliy aid the secret wilds I trace 
 Of nature, and with daring steps proceed 
 Through paths the muses never trod before. 
 
 Nor should T wander doubtful of my way. 
 Had 1 tilt; liu'lit- ..f tliat .sagacious mind 
 Wlji.'li i:iH.:lii I" i h. <k the pestilential fire, 
 And .|u. II 111. i. i.lly I'ythonof the Nile. 
 tli'ui tiiln\-d I'v ;ill the graceful arts. 
 Thou, long the favorite of the healing powers, 
 Indulge, Mead ! a well-designed esjsay, 
 Howe'er imperfect ; and permit that I 
 My little knowlril^n' wiili my country share, 
 Tillyoutheii.il \ 'l.|i,iii i.i,.- unlock, 
 And with new ^-i ,i . - .iijiniv ili.j theme. 
 
 Ye who, amid this feverish world, would wear 
 A body free of pain, of cares a mind. 
 Fly the rank city, shun its turbid Air ; 
 Breathe not the chaos of eternal smoke 
 And volatile corruption, from the dead, 
 The dying, sickening, and the living world 
 Exhaled, to sully heaven's transparent dome 
 With dim mortality. It is not Air 
 That from a th..ii^-.n.l lir-._-= rnpk« back to thine. 
 Sated with i-.xl . • i ' m. 1 IV-ll, 
 
 Thespoilsul.il.. ; .11 . imtrid thaw 
 
 Of nature ; wh. n lim .Lii].. nii.l t.-xturc sho 
 Relapses into (igliting elenients : — 
 It is not Air, but floats a nauseous mass 
 Of all obscene, corrupt, offensive things. 
 Much moisture hurts ; bnt here a sordid bath. 
 With oily rancor fraught, relaxes more 
 The solid frame than simple moisture can. 
 Beside, immured in many a sullen bay 
 That never felt the freshness of the breeze. 
 This slumbering deep remains, and ranker grows 
 With sickly rest : and (though the lungs abhor 
 To drink the dun, fuliginous abyss) 
 Did not the acid vigor of the mine, 
 Rolled from so many thundering chimneys, tamo 
 The putrid streams that overswarm the sky, — 
 This caustic venom would perhaps corrode 
 Those tender cells that draw the vital air. 
 In vain with all their unctuous rills bedewed ; 
 
48 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — ARMSTRONG. 
 
 Or by the drunken, venous tubes, that yawn 
 In countless pores o'er all the pervious skin. 
 Imbibed, would poison the balsamic blood, 
 And rouse the heart to every fever's rage. 
 
 THE CODNTRT RECOMMENDED.- 
 
 While yet you breathe, away ! the rural wilds 
 Invite ; the mountains call you, and the vales ; 
 The woods, the streams, and each ambrosial breeze 
 That fans the ever-undulating sky ; 
 A kindly sky ! whose fostering power regales 
 Man, beast, and all the vegetable reign. 
 Find then some woodland scene where Nature smiles 
 Benign, where all her honest children thrive. 
 To us there wants not many a happy seat ! 
 Look round the smiling land, such numbers rise 
 We hardly fix, bewildered in our choice. 
 
 AM } HAMPSTEAD J DtJLWICH. 
 
 See where enthroned in adamantine state, 
 Proud of her bards, imperial Windsor sits ! 
 There choose thy seat in some aspiring grove 
 Fast by the slowly-winding Thames ; or where 
 Broader she laves fair Richmond's green retreats 
 (Richmond that sees an hundred villas rise 
 Rural or gay). Oh ! from the summer's rage, 
 Oh ! wrap me in the friendly gloom that hides 
 Umbrageous Ham ! But if the busy town 
 Attract thee still to toil for power or gold. 
 Sweetly thou may'st thy vacant hours possess 
 In Hampstead, courted by the western wind ; 
 Or Greenwich, waving o'er the winding flood ; 
 Or lose the world amid the sylvan wilds 
 Of Dulwich, yet by barbarous art unspoiled. 
 
 THE PLAINS OF ESSEX USHEALTHV. — A' 
 
 Green rise the Kentish hills in cheerful air ; 
 But on the marshy plains that Essex spreads 
 Build not, nor rest too long thy wandering feet. 
 For on a rustic throne of dewy turf, 
 With baneful fogs her aching temples bound, 
 Quartana there presides ; a meagre fiend 
 Begot by Eurus, when his brutal force 
 Compressed the slothful Naiad of the Fens. 
 From such a mixture sprung, this fitful pest 
 With feverish blasts subdues the sickening land : 
 Cold tremors come, with mighty love of rest, 
 Convulsive yawiiiiiirs. lassitude, and pains 
 That stiiiLT t!i'' Ixnilrnril l>n^u-, tnhgue the loins. 
 
 Then ii:iirliiiiL'- Im ;it -iii.'.-.d-, till ropious sweats 
 O'erflou — ;i -lp>ii ;. hrf tnim furnior ills. 
 Benealli M|ir:ii.i| ~li. irks the wretches pine ; 
 The \\'2-'\ -ink-. I In- li;ihit melts away ; 
 The clin rtiil, jmir, ;nMl iiniraated bloom 
 Dies from the face, with squalid atrophy 
 Devoured, in sallow melancholy clad. 
 And oft the sorceress, in her sated wrath, 
 
 Resigns them to the furies of her train ; 
 The bloated Hydrops, and the yellow fiend 
 Tinged with her owu-accumulated gall. 
 
 aOPSy, PALSY, GOCT, AGE 
 
 In quest of sites, avoid the mournful plain 
 Where osiers thrive, and trees that love the lake ; 
 Where many lazy, muddy rivers flow : 
 Nor, for the wealth that all the Indies roll, 
 Fix near the marshy margin of tho miiin. 
 For from the humid soil and watery reign 
 Eternal vapors rise ; the spongy air 
 Forever weeps ; or, turgid with the weight 
 Of waters, pours a sounding deluge down. 
 Skies such as these let every mortal shun 
 Who dreads the dropsy, palsy, or the gout. 
 Tertian,, corrosive scurvy, or catarrh ; 
 Or any other injury that grows 
 From raw-spun fibres, idle and unstrung. 
 Skin ill-perspiring, and the purple flood 
 In languid eddies loitering into phlegm. 
 
 Yet not alone from humid skies we pine ; 
 For Air may be too dry. The subtle heaven. 
 That winnows into dust the blasted downs, 
 Bare and extended wide without a stream. 
 Too fast imbibes the attenuated lymph. 
 Which by the surface from the blood exhales. 
 The lungs grow rigid, and with toil essay 
 Their flexible vibrations ; or, inflamed, 
 Their tender, ( \ri-iiiM\ iir_^ structure thaws. 
 Spoiled of il- lnii|H.i \rln. |.-. the blood 
 Amassoflri-; ntiKun.-, ;i .Ir.issy tide 
 
 That slow u^ Letlir wiiinl. i> (liiuugh the veins ; 
 
 Unactive in the services of life. 
 
 Unfit to lead its pitchy current through 
 
 The secret mazy channels of the brain. 
 
 The melancholic Fieod (that worst despair 
 
 Of physie) hence the rust-complexioned man 
 
 Pursues, whose blood is dry, whose fibres gain 
 
 Too stretehed a tone : and hence, in climes adust. 
 
 So sudden tumults seize the trembling nerves. 
 
 And burning fevers glow with double rage. 
 
 Fly, if you can, these violent extremes 
 Of Air ; the wholesome is nor moist nor dry. 
 But as the power of choosing is denied 
 To half mankind, a further task ensues ; 
 How best to miti,L,'ate these fell extremes. 
 How breatlif iinliui I r,-' v, lilirrlii_r clrmrnt, 
 Or hazy atm- :■■ ■■.! n .-n-h.iii moulds 
 
 To every elim. ■ - ■ ■: r '.r. ih. ;ni >'i;iy ; 
 
 And he wlm 1ir-i r!,^' !..- - -t i:--r\ hn-.ithcd 
 (So kind is native air), may in the feus 
 Of Essex from inveterate ills revive 
 At pure Montpelier or Bermuda caught. 
 
SPRING — APRIL. 
 
 But if the raw and oosy heaven offend, 
 Correct the soil, and dry the sources up 
 Of watery exhalation ; wide and deep 
 Conduct your trenches through the quaking bog ; 
 Solicitous, with all your winding arts. 
 Betray the unwilling lake into the stream ; 
 And weed the forest, and invoke the winds 
 To break the toils where strangled vapors lie ; 
 Or through the thickets send the crackling flames. 
 
 GOOD FntES. — ROAST MEATS ; 
 
 Meantime at home with cheerful fire dispel 
 The humid air : and let your table smoke 
 "With solid roast or baked ; or what the herds 
 Of tamer breed supply ; or what the wilds 
 Yield to the toilsome pleasures of the chase. 
 Generous your wine, the boast of ripening years ; 
 lUit frugal be your cups : the languid frame, 
 Vapid and sunk from yesterday's debauch, 
 Shrinks from the cold embrace of watery heavens. 
 But neither these, nor all ApoUo'-s arts. 
 Disarm the dangers of the dropping sky, 
 Unless with exercise and manly toil 
 You brace your nerves, and spur the lagging blood. 
 The fattening clime let all the suns of ease 
 Avoid ; if indolence would wish to live, 
 Go, yawn and loiter out the long slow year 
 In fairer skies. 
 
 Provokes to keener toils than sultry droughts 
 Allow. But rarely wo such skies blaspheme. 
 
 FICIAI. POSDS ; SCCCCLESI VEGETABLES J SOl'PS J BOILED 
 
 If droughty regions parch 
 The skin and lungs, and bake the thickening blood ; 
 Deep in the waving forest choose your seat, 
 Where fuming trees refresh the thirsty air ; 
 .And wake the fountains from their secret beds, 
 And into lakes dilate the rapid stream. 
 Ilere spread your gardens wide ; and let the cool, 
 The moist relaxing vegetable store. 
 Prevail in each repast ; your food supplied 
 By bleeding life, be gently wasted down, 
 By soft decoction and a mellowing heat, 
 Tu liquid balm ; or, if the solid mass 
 Y'ou choose, ti)rmented in the boiling wave ; 
 That through the thirsty channels of the blood 
 A smooth, diluted chyle may ever flow. 
 
 The fragrant dairy from its cold recess 
 Its nectar, acid or benign, will pour 
 To drown your thirst ; or let the mantling bowl 
 Of keen sherbet the fickle taste relieve. 
 For with the viscous blood the simple stream 
 Will hardly mingle ; and fermented cups 
 Oft dissipate more moisture than they give. 
 Yet when pale seasons rise, or winter rolls 
 Ilis horrors o'er the world, thou may'st indulge 
 In feasts more genial, and impatient broach 
 The mellow cask. Then too the scourging air 
 
 Steeped in continual rains, or with raw fogs 
 Bedewed, our seasons droop : incumbent still 
 A ponderous heaven o'erwhelms the sinking soul. 
 Laboring with storms, in heapy mountains rise 
 The imbattled clouds, aa if the Stygian shades 
 Had left the dungeon of eternal night. 
 Till black with thunder all the south descends. 
 Scarce in a showerless day the heavens indulge 
 Our melting clime ; except the baleful oast 
 Withers the tender spring, and sourly checks 
 The fancy of the year. Our fathers talk 
 Of summers, balmy airs, and skies serene. 
 Good Heaven ! for what unexpiated crimes 
 This dismal change '! The brooding elements. 
 Do they, your powerful ministers of wrath, 
 Prepare some fierce exterminating plague ? 
 Or is it fixe<l in the decrees aliovo 
 That lofty Albion melt into the main ? 
 Indulgent Xature ! dissolve this gloom ; 
 Bind in eternal adamant the winds 
 That drown or wither : give the genial west 
 To breathe, and, in its turn, the sprightly north : 
 And may once more the circling seasons rule 
 The year ; not mix in every monstrous day. 
 
 Meantime, the moist malignity to shun 
 Of burthened skies, mark where the dry champaig 
 Swells into cheerful hills ; where marjoram 
 And thyme, the love of bees, perfume the air ; 
 And where the cynorrhodon ' with the rose 
 For fragrance vies ; for in the thirsty soil 
 Most fragrant breathe the aromatic tribes. 
 There bid thy roofs high on the basking steep 
 Ascend ; there light thy hospitable fires ; 
 And let them see the winter morn arise. 
 The summer evening blushing in the west ; 
 ^^Tiile with umbrageous oaks the ridge behind 
 O'erhung, defends you from the blustering north. 
 And bleak aflliction of the peevish cast. 
 Oh ! when the growling winds contend, and all 
 The sounding forest fluctuates in the storm — 
 To sink in warm repose, and hear the din 
 Howl o'er the steady battlements, delights 
 Above the luxury of common sleep. 
 
 The murmuring ri™lct, and the hoarser strain 
 Of waters rushing o'er the slippery rocks. 
 Will nightly lull you to ambrosial rest. 
 To please the fancy is no trifling good. 
 Where health is studied ; for whatever moves 
 The mind with calm delight, promotes the just 
 And natural movements of the harmonious frame. 
 
 t which grows on the common t 
 
 ' The wild rose, or t 
 
RURAL POETRY. ARMSTRONG. 
 
 Besides, the sportive brook forever shalies 
 The trembling air, that floats from hill to hill. 
 From vale to mountain, with incessant change 
 Of purest element, refreshing still 
 Your airy seat, and uninfected gods. 
 Chiefly for this I praise the man who builds 
 High on the breezy ridge, whose lofty sides 
 The ethereal deep with endless billows chafes. 
 His purer mansion nor contagious years 
 Shall reach, nor deadly putrid airs annoy. 
 
 THE HOUSE SHODLD BE DBT. — EPSOM ; THE LEE ; CHEI 
 
 But may not fogs, from lake or fenny plain. 
 Involve my hill ! And wheresoe'er you build. 
 Whether on sunburnt Epsom, or the plains 
 Washed by the silent Lee ; in Chelsea low. 
 Or high Blackheath with wintry winds assailed ; 
 Dry be your house : but airy more than warm. 
 Else every breath of ruder wind will strike 
 Your tender body through with rapid pains ; 
 Fierce coughs will tease you, hoarseness bind your 
 Or moist gravedo load your aching brows. [voice, 
 These to defy, and all the fates that dwell 
 In cloistered air, tainted with steaming life, 
 Let lofty ceilings grace your ample rooms ; 
 
 And still at azure noontide may your dome 
 At every window drink the liquid sky. 
 
 A SOUTHERN ASPECT RECOMMENDED. ■ — DEEP VALLEYS. 
 SUNLIGHT REQnsiTE TO VEGETABLE AND ANIMAL HEAL' 
 
 Need we the sunny situation here, 
 And theatres open to the south commend ; 
 Here, where the morning's misty breath infests 
 More than the torrid noon ? How sickly grow. 
 How pale, the plants in those ill-fated vales 
 That, circled round with the gigantic heap 
 Of mountains, never felt, nor ever hope 
 To feel, the genial vigor of the sun ! 
 While on the neighboring hill the rose inflames 
 The verdant spring ; in verdant beauty blows 
 The tender lily, languishingly sweet ; 
 O'er every hedge the wanton woodbine roves, 
 And autumn ripens in the summer's ray. 
 Nor less the warmer living tribes demand 
 The fostering sun ; whose energy divine 
 Dwells not in mortal fire ; whose generous heat 
 Glows through the mass of grosser elements. 
 And kindles into life the ponderous spheres. 
 Cheered by thy fond, invigorating warmth, 
 We court thy beams, great majesty of day ! 
 If not the soul, the regent of this world, 
 First-born of heaven, and only less than God ! 
 
n 
 
 'iliiral (Oiits for 3.pc 
 
 MRS. BARBAULD'S "SPRING." 
 
 Sweet daughter of a rough and stormy sire, 
 Hoar Winter's blooming child, delightful Spring ! 
 
 M'hose unshorn locks with leaves 
 
 And swelling buds are crowned ; 
 From the green islands of eternal youth [shade), 
 (Crowned with fresh blooms, and ever springing 
 
 Turn, hither turn thy step, 
 
 thou, whose powerful voice. 
 More sweet than softest touch of Doric reed, 
 Or Lydian flute, can soothe the madding winds, 
 
 And through the stormy deep 
 
 Breathe thy own tender calm. 
 Thee, best beloved ! the virgin train await 
 With songs and festal rites, and joy to rove 
 
 Thy blooming wilds among. 
 
 And vales and dewy lawns, 
 With untircd feet ; and cull thy earliest sweets 
 To weave fresh garlands for the glowing brow 
 
 Of him, the favored youth 
 
 That prompts their whispered sigh. 
 Unlock thy copious stores ; those tender showers 
 That drop their sweetness on the infant buds. 
 
 And silent dews that swell 
 
 The milky ear's green stem. 
 
 And feed the flowering osier's early shoots ; 
 And call those winds, which through the whispering 
 With warm and pleasant breath [boughs, 
 
 Salute the blowing flowers. 
 Now let me sit beneath the whitening thorn. 
 And mark thy spreading tints steal o'er the dale ; 
 
 And wuteh with patient eye 
 
 Thy fair unfolding charms. 
 nymph, approach ! while yet the temperate sun. 
 With bashful forehead, through the cool moist air. 
 
 Throws his young maiden beams, 
 
 And with chaste kisses woos 
 The earth's fair bosom ; while the streaming veil 
 Of lucid clouds, with kind and frequent shade. 
 
 Protects thy modest blooms 
 
 From his severer blaze. 
 Sweet is thy reign, but short : the red dog-star 
 Shall scorch thy tresses, and the mower's scythe 
 
 Thy greens, thy flowerets all. 
 
 Remorseless shall destroy. 
 
 Keluetant shall I bid thee then farewell ; 
 For, ! not all that Autumn's lap contains, 
 
 Nor Summer's ruddiest fruits. 
 
 Can aught for thee atone. 
 Fair Spring ! whose simplest promise more delights 
 Than all their largest wealth, und through the heart 
 
 Each joy and ncw-bora hope 
 
 With softest influence breathes. 
 
 LONGFELLOW'S "APRIL DAY." 
 All day the low-hung clouds have dropt 
 
 Their garnered fulness down ; 
 All day that soa, gray mist hath wrapt 
 
 Hill, valley, grove, and town. 
 There ha.s not been a sound to-day 
 
 To break the calm of nature ; 
 Nor motion, I might almost say, 
 
 Of life, or living creature ; — 
 Of waving bough, or warbling bird. 
 
 Or cattle faintly lowinf; ; — 
 
 Small drops, but thit-k and fa.^^t they fell, 
 
 Down straight into the ground. 
 For leafy thickness is not yet 
 
 Earth's naked breast to screen. 
 Though every dripping branch is set 
 
 With shoots of tender green. 
 Sure, since I looked at early morn. 
 
 Those honeysuckle buds 
 Have swelled to double growth ; that thorn 
 
 Hath put forth larger studs. 
 That lilac's cleaving cones have burst. 
 
 The milk-white flowers revealing ; 
 Even now, upon my senses first 
 
 Methinks their sweets are stealing. 
 The very earth, the steamy air. 
 
 Is all with fragrance rife ; 
 And grace and beauty everywhere 
 
 Are flushing into life. 
 Down, down they come — those fruitful stores 
 
 Those earth-rejoicing drops ! 
 A momentary deluge pours. 
 
 Then thins, decreases, stops. 
 And ere the dimples on the stream 
 
 Have circled out of sight, 
 Lo ! from the west, a parting gleam 
 Breaks forth of amber light. * • 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 PERCIVAL — MRS. HEMANS — LONGFELLOW. 
 
 MRS. HEMANS'S "VOICE OF SPRING." 
 
 I COME, I come ! ye have called me long, 
 
 I come o'er the mountains with light and song ; 
 
 Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, 
 
 By the winds which tell of the violet's birth. 
 
 By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass. 
 
 By the green leaves opening as I pass. 
 
 I have breathed on the south, and the chestnut-flowers 
 
 By thousands have burst from the forest-bowers : 
 
 And the ancient graves, and the fallen fanes. 
 
 Are veiled with wreaths on Italian plains. 
 
 But it is not for me, in my hour of bloom. 
 
 To speak of the ruin or the tomb ! 
 
 I have passed o'er the hills of the stormy north. 
 
 And the larch has hung all his tassels forth. 
 
 The fisher is out on the sunny sea. 
 
 And the reindeer bounds through the pasture free ; 
 
 And the pine has a fringe of softer green, 
 
 And the moss looks bright where my step has been. 
 
 I have sent through the wood-paths a gentle sigh. 
 
 And called out each voice of the deep-blue sky. 
 
 From the night-bird's lay through the starry time, 
 
 In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime, 
 
 To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes. 
 
 When the dark fir-bough into verdure breaks. 
 
 From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain ; 
 
 They are sweeping on to the silvery main. 
 
 They are flashing down from the mountain brows. 
 
 They are flinging spray on the forest boughs. 
 
 They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves, 
 
 And the earth resounds with the joy of waves. 
 
 Come forth, ye children of gladness, come ! 
 Where the violets lie may now be your home. 
 Ye of the rose-eheek and dew-bright eye, 
 And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly ; 
 With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, 
 Come forth to the sunshine, I may not stay. 
 
 Away from the dwellings of c 
 The waters are sparkling in wood and glen ; 
 Away from the chamber and dusky hearth, 
 The young leaves are dancing in breezy mirth ; 
 Their light stems thrill to the wild-wood strains. 
 And Y'outh is abroad in my green domains. 
 
 The summer is hastening, on soft winds borne ; 
 Ye may press the grape, ye may bind the corn ; 
 For me, I depart to a brighter shore — 
 Ye are marked by care, ye are mine no more. 
 I go where the loved who have left you dwell, 
 And the flowers are not Death's — fare ye w 
 farewell ! 
 
 Spirit of Beauty ! the air is bright 
 
 With the boundless flow of thy mellow light ; 
 
 The woods are ready to bud and bloom. 
 
 And are weaving fpr Summer their quiet gloom ; 
 
 The tufted brook reflects, as it flows, 
 
 The tips of the half-unopened rose ; 
 
 And the early bird, as he carols free, 
 
 Sings to his little love and thee. 
 
 See how the clouds, as they fleetly pass. 
 
 Throw their shadowy veil on the darkening grass ; 
 
 And the pattering showers and stealing dews, 
 
 ^Vith their starry gems and skyey hues. 
 
 From the oozy meadow, that drinks the tide. 
 
 To the sheltered vale on the mountain side. 
 
 Wake to a new and fresher birth 
 
 The tenderest tribes of teeming earth. 
 
 And scatter with light and dallying play 
 
 Their earliest flowers on the Zephyr's way. 
 
 He comes from the mountain's piny steep. 
 
 For the long boughs bend with a silent sweep, 
 
 And his rapid steps have hurried o'er 
 
 The grassy hills to the pebbly shore ; 
 
 And now, on the breast of the lonely lake. 
 
 The waves in silvery glances break. 
 
 Like a short and quickly rolling sea, 
 
 When the gale first feels its liberty. 
 
 And the flakes of foam, like coursers, run. 
 
 Rejoicing beneath the vertical sun. 
 
 He has crossed the lake, and the forest heaves. 
 To the sway of his wings, its billowy leaves. 
 And the downy tufts of the meadow fly 
 In snowy clouds, as he passes by, 
 And softly beneath his noiseless tread 
 The odorous spring-grass bends its head ; 
 And now he reaches the woven bower. 
 
 And gladly his wearied limbs repose. 
 In the shade of the newly-opening rose. 
 
 PERCIVAL'S "SPRING." 
 
 AG4IN the infant flowers of Spring 
 
 Call thee to sport on thy rainbow wing — 
 
 LONGFELLOW'S "APRa." 
 
 When the warm sun, that brings 
 Seed-time and harvest, has returned again, 
 'T is sweet to visit the still wood, where springs 
 
 The first flower of the plain. 
 
 I love the season well 
 When forest glades are teeming with bright forms. 
 Nor dark and many-folded clouds foretell 
 
 The coming-in of storms. 
 
 From the earth's loosened mould 
 The sapling draws its sustenance, and thrives : 
 Though stricken to the heart with winter's cold. 
 
 The drooping tree revives. 
 
SPRING — APRIL. 
 
 53 
 
 The aoftly-warbled song 
 Comes through the pleasant woods, and colored \ 
 Are glancing in the golden sun along 
 
 The forest c 
 
 And when bright sunset fills 
 The silver woods with light, the green slope throws 
 Its shadows in the hollows of tho hills, 
 
 And wide the upland glows. 
 
 And when the day is gone. 
 In the blue lake the sky o'erreaching far 
 Is hollowed out, and the moon dips her horn, 
 
 And twinkles many a sUir. 
 
 Inverted in the tide 
 Stand the gray rocks, and trembling shadows throw. 
 And the fair trees look over, side by side, 
 
 And see themselves below. 
 
 Sweet April ! — many a thought 
 Is wedded uuto thee, as hearts are wed ; 
 Nor shall they fail, till to its autumn brought 
 
 Life's golden fruit is shed. 
 
 CLARE'S "SPRING MUSINGS" 
 
 OF THE PEASANT POET. 
 I WHO can speak his joys when spring's young 
 
 From wood and pasture, opened on his view ! 
 When tender green buds blush upon the thorn, 
 And the first primrose dips its leaves in dew : 
 Each varied charm how joyed would he pursue. 
 Tempted to trace their beauties through the day ; 
 Gray-girdled eve and morn of rosy hue 
 Have both beheld him on his lonely way, 
 
 Far, far remote from boys, and their unpleasing i)lay. 
 Sequestered nature was his heart's delight ; 
 Him would she lead through wood and lonely plain. 
 Searching tho pooty from the rushy dike ; 
 And while the thrush sang her long-silenced strain, 
 lie thought it sweet, and mocked it o'er again ; 
 And while he plucked the primrose in its pride, 
 He pondered o'er its bloom 'tween joy aud pain ; 
 And a rude sonnet in its praise he tried, 
 
 Where nature's simple way the aid of art supplied. 
 The freshened landscapes round his routes unfurled, 
 The fire-tinged clouds above, tho woods below, 
 Each met his eye a new-revealing world. 
 Delighting more as more ho learned to know ; 
 Each journey sweeter, musing to and fro. 
 Surrounded thus, nut Paradise more sweet ; 
 Enthusiasm made his soul to glow ; 
 His heart with wild sensations used to beat ; 
 
 As nature seemly sang, his mutterings would repeat. 
 Upon a molehill oft ho dropped him down, 
 To take a prospect of the circling scene. 
 Marking how much the cottage roof's thatch brown 
 Did add its beauty to the budding green 
 Of sheltering trees it humbly peeped between ; 
 
 The stone-rooked wagon with its rumbling sound ; 
 The windmill's sweeping sails at distance seen ; 
 And every form that crowds tho circling round, 
 
 Where the sky, stooping, seems to kiss the meeting 
 ground. 
 And dear to him tho rural sports of May, 
 When each cot-threshold mounts its hailing bough. 
 And ruddy milkmaids weave their garlands gay. 
 Upon the green to crown the earliest cow ; 
 M'heu mirth and pleasure wear a joyful brow ; 
 And join the tumult, with imbounded glee, 
 The humble tenants of tho pail and plough : 
 He loved ' old sports,' by them revived, to sec, 
 
 But never cared to join in their rude revelry. 
 O'er brook-bank? stretching, on the pn«ture-sward 
 
 Ho gazed, far .-lit mt tVi.ni tlir i-.-nnrl ,t. w ; 
 
 'TwasbutllM li I. M i; .: : ,:■,,. I , '■ '^ i.-.^ard ; 
 'Twashis— 111 |.. - 1 . '.,,;, 1 ;, i,. •,.■ — 
 Wild blos.<..T.i- . ,.. 1 .,,, Ill 111- -III - I . ih'iv. 
 Scarce peeping op llir liny bent iis liigh, 
 Betingcd with glossy yellow, red, or blue, 
 Unnamed, unnnticprl hut by Lubin's eye, [die. 
 
 Tha 
 
 
 When ll.r -ih r,,.| mm il- lin , I;, ,, ,,:,., 1 i|;„v„, 
 And the giiy w.i.Hlliiik hns its nest resigned, 
 As slow the sun creeps up the hill behind ; 
 Morn reddening round, and daylight's spotless hue. 
 As seemingly with rose and lily lined ; 
 While all the prospect round beams fair to view. 
 
 Like a sweet opening flower with its unsullied dew ! 
 Ah ! often brushing through the dripping grass. 
 Has he been seen to catch this early charm, 
 Listening the ' love-song ' of the healthy lass 
 Passing with milk-pail on her well-turned arm ; 
 Or meeting objects from the rousing farm — 
 The jingling plough-teams driving down the steep, 
 Wagon aud cart ; and shepherd-dogs' alarm. 
 Raising the bleatings of unfolding sheep, 
 
 As o'er the mountain top the red sun 'gins to peep. 
 Nor could the day's decline escape his gaze ; 
 He loved the closing as tho rising day. 
 And oft would stand to oatcb the setting rays, 
 W'hose last beams stole not unpercelved away ; 
 When, hesitating like a stag at bay. 
 The bright, unwearied sun seeineil loath t«» drop, 
 
 Till chaos" night-hounds liuni. ,1 hi «ay. 
 
 And drove him headlnii;: i tlii iii.iiui.iin top, 
 
 .And shut the lovely scene i l..iii' iill iMiure stop. 
 
 With contemplation's st^ires liis mind to lill, 
 doubly happy would he roam as then, 
 When the blue eve crept deeper round the hill, 
 While the coy rabbit ventured from his den. 
 And weary labor sought his rest again ; 
 Lone wanderings led him haply by the stream, 
 Where unperceived ho 'joyed his hours at will, 
 Musing the cricket twittering o'er its dream, 
 
 Or watching o'er the brook the moonlight's dancing 
 
RURAL POETRY. — T. WARTON. 
 
 WARTON'S "APRIL.'' 
 
 With dalliance rude young Zephyr woos 
 Coy May. Full oft with kind excuse 
 The boist'rous boy the fair denies, 
 Or with a scornful smile complies. 
 
 Mindful of disaster past, 
 And shrinking at the northern blast, 
 The sleety storm returning still. 
 The morning hoar and evening chill ; 
 Reluctant comes the timid Spring. 
 Scarce a bee, with airy ring. 
 Murmurs the blossomed boughs around, 
 That clothe the garden's southern bound : 
 Scarce a sickly, straggling flower 
 Decks the rough castle's rifted tower : 
 Scarce the hardy primrose peeps 
 From the dark dell's entangled steeps : 
 O'er the field of waving broom 
 Slowly shoots the golden bloom : 
 And, but by fits, the furze-clad dale 
 Tinctures the transitory gale ; 
 AVhile from the shrubb'ry's naked maze, 
 Where the vegetable blaze 
 Of Flora's brightest 'broidery shone, 
 Every checkered charm is flown ; 
 Save that the lilac hangs to view 
 Its bursting gems in clusters blue. 
 
 Scant along the ridgy land 
 The beans their new-born ranks expand : 
 The fresh-turned soil with tender blades 
 Thinly the sprouting barley shades : 
 Fringing the forest's devious edge, 
 Half-robed appears the hawthorn hedge ; 
 Or to the distant eye displays 
 .Weakly green its budding sprays. 
 
 The swallow, for a moment seen. 
 Skims in haste the village green : 
 From the gray moor, on feeble wing, 
 The screaming plovers idly spring : 
 The butterfly, gay-painted, soon 
 Explores a while the tepid noon, 
 And fundly trusts its tender dyes 
 To fickle suns and flatt'ring skies. 
 
 Fraught with a transient, frozen shower, 
 If a cloud should haply lower, 
 Sailing o'er the landscape dark. 
 Mute on a sudden is the lark ; 
 But when gleams the sun again 
 O'er the pearl-besprinkled plain. 
 And from behind his watery veil 
 Looks through the thin-descending hail, 
 She mounts, and, lessening to the sight, 
 Salutes the blithe return of light. 
 
 And high her tuneful track pursues 
 Mid the dim laiinbow's scattered hues. 
 
 Where, in venerable rows. 
 Widely waving oaks enclose 
 The moat of yonder antique hall, 
 Swarm the rooks with clam'rous call ; 
 And, to the toils of nature true, 
 Wreath their capacious nests anew. 
 
 Musing through the lawny park. 
 The lonely poet loves to mark 
 How various greens in faint degrees 
 Tinge the tall groups of various trees : 
 AA'hile, careless of the changing year, 
 The pine cerulean, never sere. 
 Towers distinguished from the rest. 
 And proudly vaunts her winter vest. 
 
 Within some whispering, osier isle. 
 Where Glym's low banks neglected smile ; 
 And each trim meadow still retains 
 The wintry torrent's oozy stains : 
 Beneath a willow long forsook. 
 The fisher seeks his customed nook ; 
 And, bursting through the crackling sedge, 
 That crowns the current's caverned edge. 
 He startles from the bordering wood 
 The bashful wild-duck's early brood. 
 
 O'er the broad downs, a novel race, 
 Frisk the lambs, with faltering pace, 
 And with eager bleatings fill 
 The foss that skirts the beaconed hill. 
 
 His freeborn vigor yet unbroke 
 To lordly man's usurping yoke. 
 The bounding colt forgets to play, 
 Basking beneath the noontide ray, 
 And stretched among the daisies, pride 
 Of a green dingle's sloping side ; 
 While far beneath, where Nature spreads 
 Her boundless length of level meads, 
 In loose luxuriance taught to stray, 
 A thousand tumbling rills inlay 
 With silver veins the vale, or pass 
 Redundant through the sparkling grass. 
 
 Yet in these presages rude, 
 Midst her pensive solitude, 
 Fancy, with prophetic glance, 
 Sees the teeming months advance ; 
 The field, the forest, green and gay. 
 The dappled slope, the tedded hay ; 
 Sees the reddening orchard blow, 
 The harvest wave, the vintage flow ; 
 Sees June unfold his glossy robe 
 Of thousand hues o'er all the globe ; 
 Sees Ceres grasp her crown of corn. 
 And plenty load her ample horn. 
 
ilohlcn's "3^iu"icu(turr, 
 
 i -, EXCnANOES OP PBOD- 
 
 The proposition. — Atldruss to t 
 
 ute.'— Episode of the fair niilk-iiwi.l. — Tlic rann-yard 
 described.— The pleasures of a rural life. — Address to 
 the great, to study agriculture. — An allegory, attempting 
 to e.\plain the theory of vegetation. 
 
 THE SUBJECT. — CULTCBB } 
 
 Of culture and the various fruits of earth, 
 [Of social commerce, of the nobler arts, 
 Which polish and adorn the life uf man ; '] 
 Objects demanding the supreme ref;ard 
 Of that exalted monarch who sustains 
 The sceptre of command o'er Britain's sons ; 
 The muse, disdaining idle themes, attempts 
 To sing. thou, Britannia's rising hope ! 
 The favorite of her wishes ! Thou, prince ! 
 On whom her fondest expectations wait, 
 Accept the verse : and, to the humblest voice 
 That sings of public virtue, lend an ear. 
 
 INVOCATION TO THE GESlt^ OF BRITAIN. 
 
 Genius of Britjvin ! pure intelligence ! 
 Guardian, appointed by the One Supreme, 
 With influential energy benign 
 To guide the weal of this distinguished isle ; 
 0, wake the brca.-it of her aspiring son ! 
 Inform his numbers, aid his bold design. 
 Who, in a daring flight, presumes to mark 
 The glorious track her monarch should pursue. 
 
 LABOR THE SOCHCB OF WEALTH ; AND THE LABORER COM- 
 MENDED TO COVEBNMESTAL CARE. 
 
 From cultivation, from the useful toils 
 Of the laborious hind, the streams of wealth 
 And plenty flow. Deign, then, illustrious youth ! 
 To bring the observing eye, the liberal hand. 
 And with a spirit congenial to your birth. 
 Regard his various labors through the year : 
 So shall the laborer smile, and you improve 
 The happy country you are born to rule. 
 
 WINTER ; THE TIME TO CHOOSE A FARM. 
 
 The year declining, now hath left the fields 
 Divested of their honors, the strong glebe 
 
 I The author's original design was to have written a poem 
 entitled ' Public Virtue,' in three books : 1st, Agriculture -, 
 2d, Commerce ; 3d, Arts. The first book was all that he 
 ever executed. 
 
 Exli:ni.l. 1, «,i;i- tlif pulture of the plough, 
 T,i r. I 'i I I "■ '- 'T is now, intent 
 
 On li Hit i,. us husbandman 
 
 Sur\.\ ilr .iii!i% i..und, solicitous 
 To fix his habitation on a soil 
 Propitious to his hopes and to his cares. 
 
 LANDHOLDERS EXHORTED TO D 
 
 ye, whom fortune in her silken robe 
 Enwraps benign ; whom plenty's bounteous hand 
 Hath favored with distinction ! look down. 
 With smiles indulgent, on his new designs ! 
 Assist his useful works, facilitate 
 His honest aims : nor in exaction's gripe 
 Enthral the endeavoring swain. Think not his toils 
 Were meant alone to foster you in case 
 And pampered indolenn.- ; nnr grudge the meed 
 Which Heaven m nui.x _u^- to .-liecr the hand, 
 The laboring li i i i .. In-try. 
 Be yours the )■ _ ' i -iitent ; 
 
 With bounteous IIl.i.lu c.ui unite, and reward 
 The poor man's toil, whence all your riches spring. 
 As in a garden, the enlivening air 
 Is filled with odors, drawn from those fair flowers 
 Which by its influence rise ; so in his breast 
 Benevolent, who gives the swains to thrive, 
 Reflected live the joys his virtues lent. 
 
 But come, young farmer, though by fortune fi.xed 
 On fields luxuriant, where the fruitful soil 
 Gives labor hope ; where sheltering shades arise. 
 Thick fences guard, and bubbling fountains flow ; 
 Where arable and pasture duly mix ; 
 Yet, ere thy toils begin, attend the muse. 
 And catch the moral lessons of her song. 
 Be frugal and be blest ; frugality 
 Will give thee competence ; thy gains ate small, 
 Too small to bear profusion's wasteful hand. 
 Make temperance thy companion, so shall health 
 Sit on thy brow, invigorating thy frame 
 To every useful work. And if to these 
 Thou happily shalt join one virtue more, 
 The love of industry, the glowing joy 
 Felt from each new improvement ; then fair peace. 
 With modest neatness in her decent garb. 
 Shall walk around thy dwelling ; while the great, 
 Tired with the vast fatigue of indolence. 
 Filled with disease by luxury and sloth, 
 Impatient curse the dilatory day. 
 And look with envy on thy happier state. 
 
56 
 
 RURAL POETRY. DODSLEY. 
 
 farmer's tools ; 
 
 Or stroke the swellii 
 
 Prepared with these plain virtues, now the swain 
 With courage enters on his rural works. 
 First he provides the needful implements. 
 Of these, the honored plough claims chief regard. 
 Hence bread to man, who heretofore un mast 
 Fed with his fellow-brute in woods and wilds, 
 Himself uncultured as the soil he trod. 
 The spiked harrow next, to break the clods. 
 And spread the surface of the new-ploughed field ; 
 Nor is the roller's friendly aid unsought. 
 Hoes he provides, with various arms prepared. 
 To encounter all the numerous host of weeds, 
 Which rise malignant, menacing his hopes. 
 The sweeping scythe's keen edge he whets for grass. 
 And turns the crooked sickle for his corn. 
 The fork to spread, the gathering rake to save, 
 With providential care he treasures up. 
 His strong, capacious wain the dull slow ox 
 Drags on, deep loaded, grinding the rough ruts ; 
 While with his lighter team, the sprightly horse 
 Moves to the music of his tinkling bells. 
 Nor will his foresight lack the whirling flail. 
 Whose battering strokes force from the loosened 
 
 sheaves 
 Their hidden stores profuse ; which now demand 
 The quick rotation of the winnowing fan, 
 With blasts successive, wafting far away 
 The worthless chaff, to clear the golden grain. 
 
 And now, compelled to hire assistant strength, 
 Away he hastens to some neighboring town, 
 Where willing servitude, for mutual wants 
 Of hind and farmer, holds her annual feast." 
 'T is here the toiling hand of industry 
 Employment seeks. The skilful ploughman, lord 
 And leader of the rustic band ; who claims 
 His boy attendant, conscious of his worth 
 And dignity superior ; boasting skill 
 To guide with steadiness the sliding share. 
 To scatter with an equal hand the seed. 
 And with a master scythe to head the train. 
 When the ripe meadow asks the mower's hand. 
 Here, too, the thresher, brandishing his flail. 
 Bespeaks a master, whose full barns demand 
 A laboring arm, now ready to give up 
 Their treasure, and exchange their hoarded grain 
 For heaps of gold, the meed of honest toil. 
 The sunburnt shepherd, too, his slouching hat 
 Distinguished well with fleecy locks, expects 
 Observance ; skilled in wool, and lessoned deep 
 In all diseases of the bleating flock. 
 Mixed with the rustic throng, see ruddy maids, 
 Some taught with dexterous hand to twirl the wheel, 
 
 1 This is called in the country a ' statute,' ani) is held aonu- 
 Jilly at most market towns in England, where servants of 
 all kinds resort in quest of places and employments. 
 
 I ' !'■' •. -:- 'I -I ■■ ;■ : ■ \\ li ,, ,1 i,. M-r\vife's care, 
 
 But now lot loose to revelry and sport. 
 
 In clamorous mirth, indelicate and rude, 
 
 The boisterous swains and hoyden nymphs provoke 
 
 Outrageous merriment. Yet not alike 
 
 Is every swain,, nor every sylvan maid ; 
 
 As Verulam the pleasing tale records. 
 
 Where Patty, lovely Patty, graced the crowd, 
 
 Pride of the neighboring plains. 
 
 Who hath not heard 
 Of Patty, the fair milk-maid? Beautiful 
 As an Arcadian nymph ; upon her brow 
 Sat virgin modesty, while in her eyes 
 Young sensibility began to play 
 With innocence. Her waving locks fell down 
 On either side her face in careless curls, 
 Shading the tender blushes in her cheek. 
 Her breath was sweeter than the morning gale. 
 Stolen from the rose or violet's dewy leaves. 
 Her ivory teeth appeared in even rows, 
 Through lips of living coral. When she spoke, 
 Her features wore intelligence ; her words 
 Were soft, with such a smile accompanied, 
 As lighted in her face resistless charms. 
 Her polished neck rose rounding from her breast 
 With pleasing elegance : that lovely breast ! 
 Ah ! Fancy, dwell not there, lest gay desire, 
 Who, smiling, hovers o'er the enchanting place. 
 Tempt thy wild thoughts to dangerous ecstasy. 
 Her shape was moulded by the hand of ease ; 
 Exact proportion harmonized her frame ; 
 While grace, following her steps, with secret art 
 Stole into all her motions. Thus .she walked 
 In sweet simplicity ; a snow-white pail 
 Hung on her arm, the symbol of her skill 
 In that fair province of the rural state. 
 The dairy ; source of more delicious bowls 
 Than Bacchus from his choicest vintage boasts. 
 
 How great the po 
 Grew civil at her m 
 Wrapt in astonishri, 
 Whispering her )m:i 
 As when fi L^'ntl'' Im 
 With qui, 1 I ,' 
 Andhu^lii . 
 
 Young Thyrsis hearing, turned aside his head. 
 And soon the pleasing wonder caught his eye. 
 Full in the prime of youth, the joyful heir 
 Of numerous acres, a large freehold farm, 
 Thyrsis as yet from beauty felt no pain ; 
 
SPRING — APRIL. 
 
 Had soon no virgin ho oould wish to mako 
 His wodilcd partner. Now his heating heart 
 Feels new emotion ; now his fixed eye, 
 With fervent rapture dwelling on her ohnrms, 
 Drinks in delicious draughts of new-born love. 
 No rest the night, no peace the following day 
 Brought to his struggling heart : her beauteous form, 
 Her fair perfections playing on his mind, 
 With pleasing anguish torture him. In vain 
 He strives to tear her image from his breast ; 
 Each little grace, each dear bewitching look, 
 Returns triumphant, breaking his resolves, 
 And binding all his soul a slave to love. 
 
 PATTV ENAMORt^ OF TnVBSIS ', THEIR HAPPY CSIOS. 
 
 Ah ! littlo did he know, a\as ! the while 
 Poor Patty's tender heart, in mutual pain. 
 Long, long for him had heaved the secret sigh. 
 For him she dressed, for him the pleasing arts 
 She studied, and for him she wished to live. 
 But her low fortunes, nursing sad despair, 
 Chocked the ynnng hope ; nor durst her modest eyes 
 I ! ' •' ■ 11 5t glances of her flame, 
 ' , like a watchful spy, 
 ret, and with taunts reveal. 
 II. ^\.ct surprise, when she at length 
 
 Hclicia hini, all irresolute, approach, 
 And, gently taking her fair trembling hand, 
 Breathe these soft words into her listening car : 
 "0, Patty ! deare.=t m ri 1. ivh.-. l- tmtc-ous form 
 Dwells in my brca-l i \,^.„- ,, nnl to love, 
 Accept my vows ; a' ■ i ,i ii' ■ nil Im art, 
 Which from this h.iiu K It - n -li t^thee! 
 Wealth has no relish, lilV lan give nu joy, 
 If you forbid my hopes to call you mine." 
 Ah ! who the sudden tumult can describe 
 Of struggling passions rising in her breast? 
 Hope, fear, confusion, modesty, and love, 
 Oppress her laboring soul. She strove to speak, 
 But the faint accents died upon her tongue. 
 Her fears prevented utterance. At length, 
 " Can Thyrsis mock my poverty? Can ho 
 Be so unkind ? 0, no ! yet I, alas ! 
 Too humble e'en to hope.'* No more she said ; 
 But gently, as if half unwilling, stole 
 Her hand from his ; and, with sweet modesty, 
 Casting a look of diffidence and fear, 
 To hide her blushes, silently withdrew. 
 But Thyrsis read, with rapture, in her eyes 
 The language of her soul. He followed, wooed. 
 And won her for his wife. His lowing herds 
 Soon call her mistress ; soon their milky streams. 
 Coagulated, rise in circling piles 
 Of hardened curd ; and all the dnicies round 
 To her sweet butter yield superior pmise. 
 
 THE FARM ; THE POCLTRT-TARD ; THE PEACOCK, TCRKEY- 
 COCK, GEESE, DL'CKS, PIOEOSS. 
 
 But turn, my muse, nor let the alluring form 
 Of beauty lead too far thy devious steps. 
 
 .Seo where the farmer, with a master's eye, 
 Surveys his littlo kingdom, and exults 
 In sovereign independence. At a word. 
 His feathery subjects in obedience flock 
 .\round bis feeding hand, who in return 
 Yield a delicious tribute to his board, 
 .\nd o'er his oouoh their downy plumage spread. 
 The peacock here expands his eyeful plumes, 
 A glittering pageant to the mid-day sun : 
 In the stiff awkwardness of foolish pride, 
 The swelling turkey apes his stately step, 
 And calls the bristling feathers round his head. 
 There tlie loud herald of the morning struts 
 Before his cackling dames, the passive slaves 
 Of his promiscuous plciusure. O'er the pond, 
 See the gray gander, with his female train. 
 Bending their lofty necks ; and gabbling ducks, 
 Rejoicing on the surface, clap their wings ! 
 Whilst wheeling round in airy wanton flights, 
 The glossy pigeons chase their sportive loves, 
 Or in soft cooings tell their amorous tule. 
 
 HAT-STACES J 
 
 VHEAT-STACKS ; WOOD- 
 
 Here stacks of hay, there pyramids of com. 
 Promise the future market large supplies : 
 While with an eye of triumph he surveys 
 His piles of wood, and laughs at winter's frown. 
 In silent rumination, seo the kine. 
 Beneath the walnut's shade wait patiently 
 To i"iiu iiitn lii- pail- thfir milky stores ; 
 Wliilr I'lii hiiiii iHi-liL.r, far from sight removed. 
 The liri-tl\ lirtil \Mihiu t heir fattening styes, 
 Reiuiud him tu iMiijaic, in many a row. 
 The gayly-bloomiug pea, the fragrant bean, 
 And broad-leaved cabbage for the ploughman's feast. 
 
 These his amusements, his employments these ; 
 Which still arising in successive change, 
 Give to each varied hour a new delight. 
 Peace and Contentment with their guardian wings 
 Enclose his nightly slumbers. Rosy health. 
 When the gay lark's sweet matin wakes the morn, 
 Treads in his dewy footsteps round the field ; 
 And cheerfulness attends his closing day. 
 No racking jealousy, nor sullen halo. 
 Nor fear, nor envy, discompose his breast. 
 
 TUB FARMBB'S E.SEMIES ; TOE FOX, BADGER, KITE, .STOTS 
 WEASEL, PARTRmGE, HARE, OTTER, MOLE J SPORTING. 
 
 His only enemies the prowling fox. 
 Whoso nightly murders thin the bleating fold ; 
 The hardy badger, the rapacious kite. 
 With eye malignant on the little brood, 
 Sailing around portentous ; the rank stoCc 
 Thirsting, ah, savage thirst ! for harmless blood ; 
 The corn-devouring partridge ; tim'rous hare ; 
 The amphibious otter bold ; the wea.scl sly. 
 Pilfering the yolk from its enclosing shell ; 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 And moles, a dirty, underminiug race. 
 These all his foes, and these, alas ! compared 
 With man to man, an inotfensive train. 
 'Gainst these, assisted by th' entangling net. 
 The explosive thunder of the levelled tube, 
 Or toils unwearied of his social friend. 
 The faithful dog, he wages rural war ; 
 And health and pleasure in the sportive fields 
 Obtaining, he forgives their venial crimes. 
 
 0, happy he ! happiest of mortal men ! 
 Who far removed from slav'ry as from pride. 
 Fears no man's frown, nor cringing waits to catch 
 The gracious nothing of a great man's nod : 
 Where the laced beggar bustles for a bribe, 
 The purchase of his honor ; where deceit. 
 And fraud, and circumvention, drest in smiles. 
 Hold shameful commerce ; and beneath the mask 
 Of friendship and sincerity, betray. 
 
 Him, nor the stately mansion's gilded pride, 
 Rich with whate'er the imitative arts, 
 Painting or sculpture, yield to charm the eye ; 
 Nor shining heaps of massy plate, enwrought 
 With curious costly workmanship, allure. 
 Tempted nor with the pride nor pomp of power. 
 Nor pageants of ambition, nor the mines 
 Of grasping avarice, nor the poisoned sweets 
 Of pampered luxury, he plants his foot 
 With firmness on his old paternal fields, 
 And stands unshaken. 
 
 THE farmer's homestead DESCRIBED. 
 
 There sweet prospects rise 
 Of meadows smiling in their flowery pride, 
 Green hills and dales, and cottages embowered. 
 The scenes of innocence and calm delight. 
 There the wild melody of warbling birds. 
 And cool refreshing groves, and murmuring springs. 
 Invite to sacred thought, and lift the mind 
 From low pursuits, to meditate the God ! 
 
 THE WEALTHY INVITED TO BECOME AGRICtTLTURISTS. — THE 
 
 Turn then, at length, turn, ye sons of wealth. 
 And ye who seek through life's bewildering maze. 
 To tread the paths of happiness, turn ! 
 And trace her footsteps in the rural walk ; 
 In those fair scenes of wonder and delight, 
 Where, to the human eye. Omnipotence 
 Unfolds the niip nf iintiirr, nnd displays 
 Thematchb'^- l..;M,iy ..!' ri,;,ir,l things. 
 Turn to the :iii-, ili< n- ml |ilr;ising arts 
 
 Of cultivation ; I these lirMs improve 
 
 Your erring fatiiers have too long desjused. 
 Leave not to ignorance and low-bred hinds 
 That noblest science, which in ancient tiuio 
 
 The mind of sages and of kings employed, 
 
 Solicitous to learn the ways of God, 
 
 And read his worksin agriculture's school. 
 
 THE PmLOSOPHT OF VEGETATION. 
 
 Then hear the muse, now ent'ring, hand in band 
 With sweet Philosophy, the secret bowers 
 Of deep, mysterious nature ; there t' explore 
 The causes of fecundity ; and how 
 The various elements, earth, water, air 
 And fire united — the enlivening ray 
 Diurnal — the prolific dews of night — 
 With all the rolling seasons of the year — 
 In vegetation's work their power combine. 
 
 NATPRE PERSONIFIED AND DESCRIBED. 
 
 Whither, whither dost thou lead my steps, 
 Divine Philosophy ? What scenes are these. 
 Which strike my wondering senses? Lo ! enthroned 
 Upon a solid rock, great Nature sits. 
 Her eyes to heaven directed, as from thence 
 Receiving inspiration. Round her head 
 A mingled wreath of fruits and flowers entwines. 
 Her robe, with every motion changing hue, 
 Flows down in plenteous foldings, and conceals 
 Her secret footsteps from the eyes of men. 
 
 List ! list ! what harmony, what heavenly sounds 
 Enchant my ravished ear? 'T is ancient Pan,' 
 Who on his seven-fold pipe, to the rapt soul 
 Conveys the fancied music of the spheres. 
 See by his strains the elements inspired, 
 Join in mysterious work ; their motions led 
 By active 2 fire, in windings intricate, 
 But not perplexed, nor vague. And who are they? 
 What pair, obeying in alternate rounds 
 The tuneful melody ? Majestic one. 
 And grave, lifting her awful forehead, moves 
 In shadowy silence, borne on raven wings. 
 Which, waving to the measured sounds, beat time. 
 A veil obscures her face ; a sable stole, 
 Bedecked with sparkling gems, conceals her form ; 
 As wreaths of bending poppy crown her brow. 
 The other, raised on swan-like spreading plumes, 
 Glides gayly on : a milk-white robe invests 
 His frame transparent ; in his azure eyes 
 Dwells brightness, while around his radiant head, 
 A shining glory paints his flying robe. 
 With all the colors of the watery bow. 
 
 1 MytholoRistshav. 
 
 seven reeds, was lli^ 
 they say make the h 
 
 f Ihinss 
 
SPRING — APRIL. 
 
 59 
 
 rnK smsoss-, spring and summer pbh 
 
 SOSU'IBD AND DKdCMlUlfD. 
 
 Proceeding now, in more majestic steps, 
 The varying seasons join the mystic train. 
 In all the blooming hues of florid youth. 
 Gay Spring advances smiling ; on her head 
 A flowery ohaplct, mixed with verdant buds, 
 Sheds aromatic fragrance through the air ; 
 While little lophyrs, breathing wanton gales, 
 Before her flutter, turning back to gazo, 
 With looks enamored, on her lovely face. 
 Summer succeeds, crowned with the bearded ears 
 Of ripening harvest ; in her hand she bears 
 A shining sickle ; on her glowing cheek 
 The fervent heat paints deep a rosy blush : 
 Her thin light garment waving with the wind. 
 Flows loosely from her bosom, and reveals 
 To the pleased eye the beauties of her form. 
 
 AL-TCHS AND WINTER PBRSONIFIKD AND DESCRIBED. 
 
 Then follows Autumn, bearing in her lap 
 The blushing fruits which Summer's sultry breath 
 Had mellowed to her hand. A clustering wreath 
 Of purple grapes, half hid with spreading leaves. 
 Adorns her brow. Her dew-besprinkled locks 
 Begin to fall, her bending shoulders sink. 
 And active vigor leaves her sober steps. 
 Winter creeps on, shrivelled with chilling cold ; 
 Bald his white crown, upon his silver beard 
 Shines the hoar frost, and icicles depend. 
 Rigid and stem his melancholy face ; 
 Shivering he walks, his joints benumbed and stiff. 
 And wraps in northern furs his withered trunk. 
 
 And now great Nature pointing to the train 
 Her heaven-directed hand, they all combine, 
 In measured figures, and mysterious rounds. 
 To weave the mazy dance ; while to the sound 
 Of Pan's immortal pipe, the goddess joined 
 Her voice harmonious ; and the listening muse, 
 Admiring, caught the wonders of her theme.' 
 
 ' To God, supreme Creator ! great and good ! 
 All wise, Almighty Parent of the world ! 
 In choral symphonies of praise and love, 
 Let all the powers of nature raise the song ! ' 
 
 •The wat-ery signs forsaking, see the sun, 
 Great father of the vegetable tribes. 
 Darts from the Kain his all-enlivening ray ; 
 When now the genial wannth earth's yielding breast 
 Unfolds. Her latent salts, sulphureous oils, 
 And air, and water mi.Ked, attract, repel, 
 And raise prolific ferment. Lo ! at length 
 The vital principle begins to wake : 
 The emulgent fibres, stretohiTr,- n'luvl tin- r'">t. 
 Seek their terrestrial nurturr , uln Ii > .;,, -1 
 In limpid currents through th. i- nlnu iii ■ s 
 And strained and filtered in ih. ir -iir. i - . IN ; 
 
 To its own nature every different plant 
 
 Assimilating, changes. Awful Heaven ! 
 
 How wondrous is thy work, to Thee ! to Thee ! 
 
 Mysterious power belongs ! Summer's fierce heat 
 
 Increasing rarifles the ductile juice. 
 
 Sec, from the root, and from the bark imbibed. 
 
 The clastic air impels the rising sap. 
 
 Swift through the stem, through every branching arm 
 
 And smaller shoot, the vivid moisture flows. 
 
 Protruding from their buds the opening leiivcs ; 
 
 Whence, as ordained, the expiring air flows out 
 
 In copious exhalations ; and from whence 
 
 Its noblest principles the plant inhales. 
 
 THE BEAUTIES OF NATCRE } LEAVES, FLOWERS, AND FRCITS. 
 
 ' See ! see ! the shooting verdure spreads around ! 
 Ye sons of men, with rapture view the scene ! 
 On hill and dale, on meadow, field, and grove, 
 Clothed in soft mingling shades from light to dark, 
 The wandering eye di'li_-lii 1 ) ^ untinil. 
 The hawthorn's whiti/Mi II ■ i i r hi- lilooms, 
 And Flora's pencil o'.-i II. ii i ; .ti, 
 
 The varying scenes enrii h II . ,. ;y ^-;ilo 
 
 Breathes odors, every ze|.liyr frcin his wings 
 Wafting new fragrance ; borne from trees, from 
 Borne from the yellow cowslip, violet blue, [shrubs. 
 From deep carnations, from the blushing rose, 
 From every flower and aromatic herb. 
 In grateful mixtures. Hence ambrosial fruits 
 Yield their delicious flavors. The sweet grape. 
 The mulberry's cooling juice, the luscious plum, 
 The healthful apple, the dissolving peach. 
 And thy rich nectar, many-flavored pine. 
 These are the gracious gifts, favored Man ! 
 Those, these to thee the gracious gifts of Heaven, 
 A world of beauty, wonder, and delight.' 
 
 ASCRIPTION OF PRAISE TO OOD. 
 
 ' To God, supreme Creator ! great and good ! 
 All-wise, Almighty Parent of the world ! 
 In choral symphonies of praise and love, 
 Let all the powers of nature close the strain.' 
 
 or (lifftTent soils, and their culture, 
 uiid ]>nictice. Of the principles anil 
 
 iniprovin); land. Of hudKin^ and ditching. C 
 limln r-trees. Of draining wet and flonlmg dry 
 giirdciiing, and the ganluns of Kpicurus. 
 
 Mr. Tull's principles 
 iractice uf the Midille- 
 nnd other nicthwls of 
 
 ANTACE3 AND 1 
 
 ADVANTAUEii < 
 
 Descending now from these superior themes 
 muse, in notes familiar teach the swain 
 The hidden properties of every glebe. 
 And what the difl'erent culture each requires. 
 The naturalist to sand, or loam, or clay. 
 Reduces all the varying soils, which clothe 
 The bosom of this earth with beauty. Sand, 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Hot, open, loose, admits the genial ray 
 With freedom, and with greediness imbibes 
 The falling moisture : hence the embryo seeds, 
 Lodged in its fiery womb, push into life 
 With early hasto, and hurried to their prime, 
 Their vital juices spent, too soon decay. 
 
 Correct this error of the ardent soil 
 With cool manure : let stiff, cohesive clay 
 Hive the loose glebe consistence and firm strength 
 So shall thy laboring steers, when harvest calls, 
 Bending their patient shoulders to the yoke, 
 Drag home in copious loads the yellow grain. 
 
 Has fortune fixed thy lot to toil in clay ? 
 Despair not, nor repine : the stubborn soil 
 Shall yield to cultivation, and reward 
 The hand of diligence. Here give the plough 
 No rest. Break, pound the clods, and with warm 
 Relieve the sterile coldness of the ground, [dungs 
 Chilled with obstructed water. Add to these 
 The sharpest sand, to open and unbind 
 The close-cohering mass ; so shall new pores 
 Admit the solar beams' enlivening heat. 
 The nitrous particles of air receive. 
 And yield a passage to the soaking rain. 
 Hence fermentation, hence prolific power, 
 And hence the fibrous roots in quest of food. 
 Find unobstructed entrance, room to spread, 
 And richer juices feed the swelling shoots : 
 So the strong field shall to the reaper's hand 
 Produce a plenteous crop of waving wheat. 
 
 Whom llr;,lr,r- K||„l l):,,„|. i „< I „ I -OR t tO hiswish, 
 
 Hath liLi.v.i n|-,M ;, l,,u„y ^.iiL lie views 
 All piutluuts (j1 thu ti'iuiiug eaith arise 
 In plenteous crops, nor scarce the needful aid 
 Of culture deign to ask. Him, nor the fears 
 Of scorching heat, nor deluges of rains 
 Alarm. His kindly fields sustain all change 
 Of seasons, and support a healthy seed 
 In vigor through the perils of the year. 
 
 TDLL'S THEORY OF VEGETATION. 
 
 But new improvements curious wouldst thou learn. 
 Hear then the lore of fair Berkeria's ' son. 
 Whose precepts, drawn from sage experience, claim 
 Regard. The pasture, and the food of plants. 
 First let the young agricolist be taught : 
 Then how to sow and raise the embryo seeds 
 Of every different species. Nitre, fire, 
 Air, water, earth, their various powers combine 
 In vegetation ; but the genuine food 
 
 1 The late Mr. Tull, of Shalbnrne, in Berkshire, in bia 
 Hovse-hoelng Husbandry, or an Essay on the Principles of 
 Vegetation and Tillage. 
 
 Of every plant is earth : hence their increase, 
 Their strength and sul.-t^m.-,.. Mtrt- first prepares 
 And scp.irate3 the i-i.ii.-irird |,:m|. ; ivhich then 
 The watery vehicle ;(.->uiiir.. ;iiii| [lin.ugh 
 The ascending tubes, — nnpelled by subtle air, 
 Which gives it motion, and that motion heat, — 
 The fine terrestrial aliment conveys. 
 
 Is earth the food of plants ? their pasture then 
 By ceaseless tillage, or the use of dung. 
 Must or ferment, or pulverize, to fit 
 For due reception of the fibrous roots : 
 But from the steams of ordure, from the stench 
 Of ijutrefaction, from stercoreous fumes 
 Of rottenness and filth, can sweetness spring? 
 Or grateful, or salubrious food to man ? 
 As well might virgin innocence preserve 
 Her purity from taint amidst the stews. 
 Defile not then the freshness of thy field 
 AYith dung's polluting tuucli ; but let the plough, 
 The hoe, the harrow, ;iipI llir i,,!],,- Ir,„l 
 
 Thus taught the Shalborne swain ; who first with 
 skill 
 Led through the field the many-coultered plough ; 
 Who first his seed committed to the ground, 
 
 E.xpandiug crowned the intermediate ridge, — 
 His new * machine, formed to exterminate 
 The weedy race (intruders who devour, 
 But nothing pay), to pulverize the soil. 
 Enlarge and change the pasture of the roots, 
 And to its last perfection raise the crop. 
 Ho taught, alas ! but practised ill the lore 
 Of his own precepts. Fell disease, or sloth, 
 Relaxed the hand of industry : his farm. 
 His own philosophy disgracing, brought 
 Discredit on the doctrines he enforced. 
 
 Then banish from thy fields the loiterer sloth, 
 Nor listen to the voice of thoughtless ease. 
 Him sordidness and penury surround, 
 Beneath whose lazy hand the farm runs wild ; 
 Whose heart nor feels the joy improvement gives, 
 
SPRINQ — APRIL. 
 
 Nor leaden eye the beauties that arise 
 
 From labor, sees. Accumulated filth 
 
 Annoys his crowded steps ; even at his door 
 
 A yellow mucus from the dunghill stands 
 
 In squalid pools ; his buildings, unrepaired. 
 
 To ruin rush precipitate ; his fields 
 
 Disorder governs, and licentious weeds 
 
 Spring up unchecked ; the nettle and the dock. 
 
 Wormwood and thistles, in their seasons rise, 
 
 And deadly nightshade spreads bis poison round. 
 
 Ah ! wretched he ! if chance bis wandering child, 
 
 By hunger prompted, pluck the alluring fruit ! 
 
 Benumbing stupor creeps upon his brain ; 
 
 Wild grinning laughter soon to tbis succeeds ; 
 
 Strange madness then, and death in hideous form. 
 
 Jlysterious Providence ! ah, why concealed 
 
 In such a tempting form should poisons lurk ; 
 
 Ah, why so near the path of innocents 
 
 Should spring their baue ? But Thou alone art wise ! 
 
 Thus hath the faithful Muse his lore pursued, 
 M'ho, trusting to the culture of his plough, 
 Refused the dunghilTs aid. Yet listen nut 
 To doubtful precepts, with implicit fjiith ; 
 Experience to experience oft opposed 
 Leaves truth uncertain. See what various crops. 
 In quick succession, crown the gardened fields 
 On Thames' prolific bank. On culture's hand 
 Alone do these Horticulists rely ? 
 Or do they owe to London's rich manure 
 Those products which its crowded markets fill ? 
 Both lend their aid : and both, with art improved, 
 Have spread the glory of their gardens wide, 
 A theme of wonder to the distant swain. 
 Hence the piazzacd ' square, where erst, embowered 
 In solemn sloth, good Martin's lazy monks 
 Droned out their useless lives in pampered ease, 
 Now boasts, from industry's rough hand supplied. 
 Each various esculent the teeming earth 
 In every changing season can produce. 
 
 CiTTUE, .IWINE, TKiEONS, HOUSES, SUEEP j SOOT ; Ml 
 
 Join, then, with culture the prolific strength 
 Of such manure as best inclines to aid 
 Thy failing glebe. Let oily marl impart 
 Its unctuous moisture, or the crumbling ^ tan 
 Its glowing heat. Nor from the grazing herds. 
 Nor bristly swine obscene, disdain to heap 
 Their cooling ordure. Nor the warmer dungs 
 Of fiery pigeons, of the stabled horse. 
 Or folded fioek, neglect. From sprinkled soot. 
 
 3 The bark of oak, after It has been used by the tanner. 
 It is frequently made use of for hot-beiU, particularly for 
 raising pine..apptc3 ; and is called by the ganlenera tan. 
 
 From ashes strewed around, lot the damp soil 
 Their nitrous salts imbibe. Scour the deep ditch 
 From its black sediment ; and from the street 
 Its trampled mixtures rake. Oreen standing pools, 
 Large lakes, or meadows rank, in rotted heaps 
 Of unripe weeds,' afford a cool manure. 
 
 aiNlllES ; SHELLT OCBAS-SiSDS iSD TIIEIB USE ; PULSE 
 AND OTHER G«BBX CHOPS PI-OCGnEl) IN ; TlllSIPS. 
 
 From ocean's verge, if not too far removed 
 Its shelly lands, convoy a warm compost, 
 From land and wave commixt with ricliness fiaught: 
 This the sour glebe shall sweeten, and for years. 
 Through chilly clay, its vigorous heat shall glow. 
 But if nor oily marl, nor crumbling tan. 
 Nor dung of cattle, nor the trampled street. 
 Nor weed, nor ocean's sand, can lend its aiil ; 
 Then, farmer, raise immediate from their sectls 
 The juicy stalks of largely-spreading pulse, 
 Beans, buck-wheat, spurry, or the climbing vetch ; 
 These early reaped, and buried in the soil. 
 Enrich the parent womb from whence they sprung. 
 Or sow the bulbous turnip ; this shall yield 
 Sweet pasture to the flocks or lowing herds. 
 And well prepare thy lond for future crops. 
 
 I FENCISO i THE S 
 
 , HOLLY ; 1 
 
 Yet not alone to raise, but to secure 
 Thy products from invasion, and divide 
 For various use the appropriated fields, 
 Disdain not thus to learn. For this, the sloe. 
 The furze, the holly, to thy hand present 
 Their branches, and their different merits boost. 
 But from the nursery then with care select 
 Quick hawthorn sets, well rooted, smooth, and 
 Then low as sinks thy ditch on either side, [straight ; 
 Let rise in height the sloping bank ; there plant 
 Thy future fence, at intervals a foot 
 From each to each, in beds of richest mould. 
 
 Nor ends the labor here ; but to defend 
 Thy infant shoots from depredation deep. 
 At proper distance drive stiff oaken stakes ; 
 Which, interwove with boughs and flexile twigs. 
 Frustrate the nibbling flock or browsing herd. 
 Thus, if from weeds, that rob them of their food. 
 Or choke, by covering from the vital air. 
 The hoe's neat culture keep the thickening shoots. 
 Soon shall they rise, and to thy field afford 
 A beauteous, strong, impenetrable fence. 
 The linnet, goldfinch, nightingale, and thrush. 
 Here, by security invited, build 
 Their little nests, and all thy labors cheer 
 With melody : the hand of lovely May 
 Here strews her sweetest blossoms ; and if mixed 
 
 1 If weeds are suffered to stand till they i 
 
62 
 
 KUKAL POETRY. DODSLET. 
 
 With stocks of knotted crabs, ingrafted fruits, 
 When autumn crowns the year, shall smile around. 
 
 TREE-CULTURE ; CAUSES FOR IT ; CHOICE OF A NUKSEBT, AN. 
 ITS PROTECTION. 
 
 But from low shrubs, if thy ambition rise 
 To cultivate the larger tree, attend. 
 
 From seeds, or suckers, layers, or sets, arise 
 Their various tribes ; for now exploded stands 
 The vulgar fable of spontaneous birth, 
 To plant or animal.' He, then, who, pleased, 
 In Fancy's eye beholds his future race 
 Rejoicing in the shades their grandsire gave ; 
 Or he whose patriot views extend to raise, 
 In distant ages, Britain's naval power ; 
 Must first prepare, inclining to the south, 
 A sheltered nursery ; well from weeds, from shrub 
 Cleared by the previous culture of the plough. 
 From cattle fenced, and every peeling tooth. 
 
 Then from the summit of the fairest tree, 
 His seed selected ripe, and sowed in rills 
 On nature's fruitful lap : the harrow's care 
 Indulgent covers from keen frosts that pierce. 
 Or vermin who devour. The wintry months 
 In embryo close the future forest lies, 
 And waits for germination : but in spring. 
 When their green heads first rise above the earth, 
 And ask thy fostering hand ; then to their roots 
 The light soil gently move, and strew around 
 Old leaves, or littered straw, to screen from heat 
 The tender infants. Leave not to vile weeds 
 This friendly office ; whoso false kindness chokes. 
 Or starves the nurslings they pretend to shade. 
 
 TRiSSPLiSTINO OF NURSLINGS j WHEN AND HOW. 
 
 When now four summers have beheld their youth 
 Attended in the nursery, then transplant. 
 The soil prepared, to where thy future grove 
 Is destined to uprear its leafy head. 
 Avoid the error of impatience. Ue 
 Who, eager to enjoy the cooling shade 
 His hands shall raise, removes at vast expense 
 Tall trees, with envy and regret shall see 
 His neighbor's infant plants soon, soon outstrip 
 The tardy loiterers of his dwindled copse. 
 
 Aspiring still, shall spread their powerful arms. 
 While the weak puny race, obscured below, 
 Sickening, die off, and leave their victors room. 
 
 Nor small the praise the skilful planter claims 
 From his befriended country. Various arts 
 Borrow from him materials. The soft beech. 
 And close-grained box, employ the turner's wheel, 
 And with a thousand implements supply 
 Mechanic skill. Their beauteous veins the yew 
 And phyllerea lend, to surface o'er 
 The cabinet. Smooth linden best obeys 
 The carver's chisel : best his curious work 
 Displays in all its nicest touches. Birch — 
 Ah ! why should birch supply the chair ? since oft 
 Its cruel twigs compel the smarting youth 
 To dread the hateful seat. Tough-bending ash 
 Gives to the humble swain his useful plough, 
 And for the peer his prouder chariot builds. 
 To weave our baskets the soft osier lends 
 His pliant twigs : staves that nor shrink nor swell. 
 The cooper's close-wrought cask to chestnut owes. 
 
 The sweet-leaved walnut's undulated grain. 
 Polished with care, adds to the workman's art 
 Its varying beauties. The tall, towering elm. 
 Scooped into hollow tubes, in secret streams 
 Convoys for many a mile the limpid wave ; 
 Or from its height, when humbled to the ground. 
 Conveys the pride of mortal man to dust. 
 And last the oak, king of Britannia's woods, 
 And guardian of her isle ! whose sons robust. 
 The best supporters of incumbent weight. 
 Their beams and pillars to the builder give. 
 Of strength immense : or in the bounding deep 
 The loose foundations lay of floating walls, 
 Impregnably secure. But sunk, but fallen 
 From all your ancient grandeur, ye groves ! 
 Beneath whose lofty, venerable boughs. 
 The Druid erst his solemn rites performed. 
 And taught to di>-t:iiit i. iilin l.i- nr-rcd lore, — 
 Where are your 111 :i 1 1 i. l.uttoserv 
 
 Your thanklesso.ini, I ,1. i .i i i-liiiig sees. 
 Her naked forests l,.n;iii^ i-i >.ui shade. 
 
 But if thy emulation's generous pride 
 Would boast the largest timber straight and strong! 
 Thick let the seedlings in their native beds 
 Stand unremoved ; so shall each lateral branch, 
 Obstructed, send its nourishment to raise 
 The towering stem: and they whose vigorous health 
 Exalts above the rest their lofty heads, 
 
 __. , yet creative energy never flags ; 
 
 preservation is perpetual creation, ana seeds and eggs are 
 constantly being produced by the ceaseless love and wis- 
 dom of God. where neither the one nor the other existed. 
 
 The task, the glorious task, for thee remains, 
 prince beloved ! for thee more nobly born 
 Than for thyself alone, the patriot work 
 Yet unattempted waits. lot not pass 
 The fair occasion to remotest time 
 Thy name with praise, with honor to transmit ! 
 So shall thy country's rising fleets to thee 
 Owe future triumph ; so her naval strength, 
 Supported from within, shall fix thy claim 
 To ocean's sovereignty ; and to thy ports, 
 
In OTory climate of tho peopled carth|^ 
 
 Bear oommorco ; fearless, unresisted, safe. 
 
 Let then the great aiubitiun fire tliy breast. 
 
 For this thy native land ; rephiee tho lust 
 
 Inhabitants of her deserted plains. 
 
 Let Thame once more on W indsor's lofty hills 
 
 Survey young forests planted by thy hand. 
 
 Let fair Sabrina's flood again behold 
 
 Tho Spaniard's ' terror rise renewed ; and Trent, 
 
 From Sherwood's ample plains, with pride convey 
 
 Tho bulwarks of her country to tho main. 
 
 THK POET'S (DODSLET'S) BlKTn-ri .U K AS 
 
 native Sherwood, \v.i\<]'y u. ir thi li:ird, 
 Might these his rural ... i^ - r. lui.i.. ..,.„. 
 Boast of tall grove-s, il.;.r, ..Ml.ii..- .. , i tl.y [ 
 Rose to their tuneful nuli.ii.v. lUit, uh ! 
 Beneath the feeble efforts of a muse 
 Untutored by the lore of Greece or Rome ; 
 A stranger to the fair Ciistaliiui spriiij;?, 
 Whence happier port- ..i . n n. .. .i..i\\ , 
 And the sweet ma;;i.' .' i . m i^,— 
 
 The weak presumpt..'.. i i ii , . Kpirt 
 
 Yet sure some sacred iia|.ui;u ,:iiii luj l.itasl 
 I feel, I feel, an heavenly guest withiu ! 
 And all-obedient to the ruling God, 
 Tho pUaaiug task which ho inspires pursue. 
 
 And hence, disdaining low and trivial things ; 
 Why should I tell of him wliose obvious art. 
 To drain the low damp meadow, sloping sinks 
 A hollow trench ; which, arched at half its depth. 
 Covered with filtering brush-wood, furze, or broom, 
 And surfaced o'er with earth, in secret streams 
 Draws its collected moisture from the glebe ? 
 Or why of him, who o'er his sandy fields, 
 Too dry to bear the sun's meridian beam. 
 Calls from the neighboring hills obsequious springs, 
 Which, led in winding currents through the mead, 
 Cool the hot soil, refresh the thirsty plain. 
 While withered plants reviving smile around ? 
 
 LAXnSClPB-CiRDEN-ING J A TISTEFILLT LAID OIT FABM ; 
 WALKS i WALL-FBflTS, ESCCLESTS. 
 
 But sing, muse ! the swain, the happy swain, 
 Whom taste and nature, leading o'er his fields, 
 Conduct to every rural beauty. See ! 
 Before his footsteps winds the waving walk, 
 Here gently rising, there descending slow. 
 Through the tall grove, or near tho water's brink. 
 Where flowers besprinkled paint the shelving bank. 
 And weeping willows bend to kiss the stream. 
 Now wandering o'er tho lawn he roves, and now 
 Beneath the hawthorn's secret shade reclines : 
 Where purple violets hang their bashful heads, 
 Where yellow cowslips, and the blushing pink, 
 Their mingled sweets and lovely hues 
 
 1 The officers on board the Spanish fleet, in 1888, called 
 the Invincible Arniaila, had it in tlieir orders, if they could 
 not subdue the islaiirt, Ht least to destroy the forest of Dean, 
 which is in the neighborhood of the river Severn. 
 
 Hero sheltered from tho north, his ripening fruits 
 Display their sweet temptations from tho wall, 
 Or from tho gay espalier : while below. 
 His various esculents, from glowing beds, 
 Give tlio fair promise of delicious feasts. 
 
 TliiTC from his forming hand new scenes arise, 
 The fair creation of his fancy's eye. 
 Lo ! bosomed in the solemn, shady grove, 
 Whose reverend branches wave on yonder hill. 
 He views the moss-grown temple's ruined tower. 
 Covered with creeping ivy's clustered leaves ; ' 
 
 Tho mansion seeming of some rural god, ' 
 
 Whom nature's choristers, in untaught hymns 
 Of wild yet sweetest harmony, adore. 
 
 A PBOSPECT OVER AS IMPROVED ASD CCLTITATED LASD- 
 
 BOSE, ACACIA, B0SE3, noNEISCCKLK, ME/.EBEOS, LAIBU8- 
 T1.STS, LABCaSlM. 
 
 From the bold brow of that aspiring steep, 
 Where hang tho nibbling flocks, and view below 
 Their downward shadows in the gla.<sy wave, 
 What pleasing landscapes spread before his eye ! 
 Of scattered villages, aud winding streams, 
 And meadows green, and woods, and distant spires. 
 Seeming, above the blue horizon's bound. 
 To prop the canopy of Heaven. Now lost 
 Amidst a blooming wilderness of shrubs, 
 The golden orange, arbute ever green. 
 The early-blooming almond, feathery pine. 
 Fair opulus,' to spring, to autumn dear. 
 And the sweet shades of varying verdure caught 
 From i-.lt ...... i;.'.^ L'.i.lly waving branch, — 
 
 Heedk.-- Ii. «:....!..- : u l.ile the grateful scent8 
 
 Ofswi-.l-l...... ....-.-. I."i»-ysuckleswild, 
 
 Regale tlie smell ; and to tho enchanted eyo 
 Mezercon's purple, laurustinus white. 
 And pale laburnum's pendent flowers display 
 Their different beauties. 
 
 LAWNS ; WATERFALLS 5 BAUST3 OP HEDITATIOX. 
 
 O'er the smooth-shorn grass 
 His lingering footsteps leisurely proceed, 
 In meditation deep : — when, hark ! the sound 
 Of distant water steals upon his ear ; 
 And sudden opens to his pausing eye 
 Tho rapid, rough cascade, from tho rude rock 
 Down dashing in a stream of lucid foam : 
 Then glides away, meandering o'er tho lawn, 
 A liquid surface ; shining seen afar. 
 At intervals, beneath the shadowy trees ; 
 Till lost and buried in tlie distant gruve. 
 Wrapt into sacred musing, ho reclines 
 Beneath tho covert of embowering shades ; 
 And, painting to his mind tho bustling scenes 
 Of pride and bold ambition, pities kings. 
 
 1 The pelder-rose, a marsh shrub, called also the snow- 
 
64 
 
 RURAL POETRY.- 
 
 APOSTROPHE TO THE GENICS OF GARDENS ', PARADISE, TH 
 HESPERIDES, CASTALIA, TEMPB ; BRITISH LANDSCAPES. 
 
 Genius of gardens ! Nature's fairest child ! 
 Thou who, inspired by the directing mind 
 Of Heaven, <lidst plan the scenes of Paradise ! 
 
 Ca>hilriiii >|iiiim.. I nil tlir r,iMi:iiil ins groves 
 
 OlTompes vale : (J iili' !■ 111!' n l-u hid? 
 For ages where have I unknown? 
 
 Welcome at length, till I ' -i ' ilic shore 
 
 Of Britain's beautcuu- i l^ "ii-n i ,,. hint plains, 
 Where hills and dales, and wunds and waters join, 
 To aid thy pencil, favor thy designs, 
 And give thy varying landscapes every charm. 
 
 Drive then Batavia's ' monsters from our shades ; 
 Nor let unhallowed shears profane the form, 
 Which Heaven's own hand, with symmetry divine. 
 Hath given to all the vegetable tribes. 
 Banish the regular deformity 
 Of ]ilans by line and compass, rules abhorred 
 In nature's free plantations ; and restore 
 Its pleasing wildness to the garden walk ; 
 The calm serene recess of thoughtful man, 
 In meditation's silent, sacred hour. 
 
 Anil, I'l * ilii |i ■■^M- "1 I liv steps appears 
 In tin 1)11 1 I ,; : ;. .1 round the land, 
 
 Kiulir-i in ( Ki IS! I I:, „i!i. "lis model seen : 
 Tlieie thy lii,-L liii.nau, iu Uie happy shade 
 To nature introduced, the goddess wooed, 
 And in sweet rapture there enjoyed her charms. 
 In Richmond's vencralile woods and wilds. 
 
 The calm retreat, win 1. «., I h -ly, 
 
 Unbending from his 111 I i , I ii i 1 1 1, - )ii_ace. 
 Steals a few moment- i' i. li.L. i,i nn. 
 On Oatland's brow, when: gi.uKkui .,a, enthroned. 
 Smiling on beauty. 
 
 THE VALE OF ESBER : SOtlTHCOTE'S GROUNDS AND HAGLET 
 
 In the lovely vale 
 Of Esher, where the Mole glides lingering, loth 
 To leave such scenes of sweet siinpiieity. 
 In Woburn's= ornamenti d lii li^. «li. ri' gay 
 Variety, where minnliil lulii- nnl IihIi-s, [break, 
 Where lawns and l'ii ii-, mrl "|iiiiin-- prospects 
 AVitli swfff sin]-ivi.r. n|i.ii llir wan.leling eye. 
 On ll:,Ji >■- lull-, liM,,il,,i ),ndwild, 
 
 ^\ lirir ilii-M^li 1 ■ill ■ 1 IMS of hanging woods, 
 
 Anil Milli'v- -irini. iMiil iiirl-.^, and hollow dales, 
 AMiile eeliu talks, and nymphs and dryads play, 
 Thou rov'st enamored ; leading by the hand 
 Its master, who, inspired with all thy art, 
 A. 11- 1 1 I'lti. til what nature planned so fair. 
 
 Hail, sweet retirement ' Wi-->Innrs ppnccfnl seat ! 
 Where, lifted fn mi tin n,,,,,!, ;i,„l ,,l!,„I^ ,,l;a'ed 
 Beyond the deafen II- mill il Iniiniii -iiili. 
 The Athenian sa-r ' lii< liii|,|iy fnllnn irs laii?;ht. 
 That pleasure sprang f ruin \iitue. (iracious Heaven! 
 How worthy thy divine beneficence, 
 This fair established truth ! Ye blissful bowers. 
 Ye voeal groves, whose echoes caught his lore, 
 
 might I hear, through time's long tract conveyed. 
 The moral lessons taught beneath your shades ! 
 And, lo ! transported to the sacred scenes. 
 
 Such the divine enchantment of the muse, 
 
 1 see the sage : I hear, I hear his voice. 
 
 ' The end of life is happiness ; the means 
 That end to gain, fair virtue gives alone. 
 From the vain phantoms of delusive fear. 
 Or strong desire's intemperance, spring the woes 
 Which human life embitter. 0, my sons. 
 From error's darkening clouds, from groundless fear 
 Enfeebling all her powers, with early skill. 
 Clear the bewildered mind. Let fortitude 
 Establish in your breasts her steadfast throne ; 
 So shall the stings of evil fix no wound : 
 Nor dread of poverty, nor pain, nor grief, 
 Nor life's disasters, nor the fear of death. 
 Shake the just purpose of your steady souls. 
 Tlie golden curb of temperance next prepare. 
 To rein the impetuous sallies of desire. 
 
 * He who the kindling sparks of anger checks, 
 Shall ne'er with fruitless tears in vain lament 
 Its flame's destructive rage. Who from the vale 
 Ambition's dangerous pinnacle surveys ; 
 Safe from the blast which shakes the towering pile. 
 Enjoys secure repose, nor dreads the storm 
 When public clamors rise. Who cautious turns 
 From lewd temptation smiling in the eye 
 Of wantonness, hath burst the golden bands 
 Of future anguish ; hath redeemed his frame 
 From early feebleness, and dire disease. 
 Who lets the griping hand of avarice pinch 
 To narrow selfishness the social heart, 
 E.xcludes fair friendship, charity, and love, 
 From their divine exertions in his breast. 
 
 MODERATION TAUGHT *, WATER AND GABDEN-ROOTS, HERBS 
 AND FRUITS, SUFFICE FOR HEALTH J THE CELESTIAL VENUS. 
 
 ' And see, my friends, this garden's little bound, 
 So small the wants of nature, well supplies 
 Our board with plenty ; roots, or wholesome pulse, 
 Or herbs, or flavored fruits ; and from the stream 
 The hand of moderation fills a cup. 
 To thirst delicious. Hence nor fevers rise, 
 Nor surfeits, nor the boiling Wood, inflamed 
 With turbid vinlrii.-, t!ir i , i,,- ,IMi ml- 
 
65 
 
 Hear, then, and weigh the moment of my words : — 
 M'ho thus the sensual appetites restrain, 
 Knjoy the heavenly Venus ' of these shades. 
 Celestial pleasure ; tranquil and secure, 
 From puin, disease, and anxious troubles free.* 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 6t liay-mnkinft. A mclhoil of preserving liny from being 
 mow-burnt, or Inking lire. Of harvest, ami the harvest- 
 home. The praises of England with regard to its various 
 products. Apples. Hops. Hemp. Flax. Conls. Fuller's 
 " "■■ Iron. Dyer's herbs. Escu- 
 
 enrth. Stone. Leail. 
 
 lents. Mcillcinals. Tranjtii 
 
 earth to the care of slieej), cattle, atal horses. Of feeding 
 
 sheep. Of their diseases. Slieep-sliearing. Of improving 
 
 the breed. Of the dairy and its products. Of horses. The 
 
 draught-horse, road-horse, liuntt 
 
 PiSU-PBODCCTS i MOrnSO, OAT-BJllJISO. 
 
 'While thus at case, boucath embellished shades, 
 We rove delighted ; lo ! the ripening mead 
 Calls forth the laboring hinds. In slanting rows, 
 With still-approaching step, and levelled stroke, 
 The early mower, bending o'er his scythe, 
 Ljiys low the slender grass ; emblem of man, 
 Falling beneath the ruthless hand of time. 
 Then follows blithe, equipped with fork and rake. 
 In light array, the train <if nymphs and swains. 
 Wide o'er the field, their labor seeming sport. 
 They toss the withering herbage. Light it flies, 
 Borne on the wings of zephyr ; whose soft gale. 
 Now while the ascending sun's bright beam exhales 
 The grateful sweetness of the new-mown hay. 
 Breathing refreshment, fans the toiling swain. 
 
 And soon the jocund dale and echoing hill 
 Resound with merriment. The simple jest. 
 The village tale of scandal, and the taunts 
 Of rude unpolished wit, raise sudden bursts 
 Of laughter from beneath the spreading oak. 
 Whore, thrown at case and sheltered from the sun, 
 The plain repast and wholesome beverage choor 
 Their spirits. Light as air they spring, renewed, 
 To social labor : soon the ponderous wain 
 Moves slowly onwards with its fragrant load, 
 And swells the bam capacious : or, to crown 
 Their toil, large tapering pyramids they build, 
 The magazines of plenty, to insure 
 From winter's want tho flocks and lowing herds. 
 
 HOW TO OBVIATE TBK Bi'-rBCTS OF A SnoWEB IN WSTTISO 
 THE BAV i SPOSTASKOi;s COMBCSTIOM. 
 
 But do tho threatening clouds precipitate 
 Thy work, and hurry to the field thy team. 
 Ere the sun's heat, or penetrating wind, 
 Hath drawn its moisture from tho fading grass? 
 Or hath the bursting shower thy labors drenched 
 
 1 Epicurus placed in hU garden a statue of the Venus 
 Celeslis, which probably he might intend should be symbol- 
 ical of his doctrine. 
 
 With sudden inundation? Ah, with caro 
 Acoiunulato thy load, or in the mow. 
 Or on tho rising riok. Tho smothered damps, 
 FermonttDg, glow within ; and latent sparks 
 At length engendered, kindle by degrees, 
 Till, wide and wider spreading, they admit 
 The fatal blast, which instantly consumes, 
 In flames resistless, thy collected store. 
 This diro disaster to avoid, prepare 
 A hollow basket, or tho concave round 
 Of some capacious vessel ; to its sides 
 Affix a triple cord : then let tho swains. 
 Full in the centre of thy purposed heap. 
 Place the obtrusive barrier ; raising still 
 As they advance, by its united bands, 
 Tho wide machine. Thus leaving in tho midst 
 An empty space, the cooling air draws in. 
 And from tho flame, or from offensive taints 
 Pernicious to thy cattle, saves their food. 
 
 rPOX POVEBTT. 
 
 And now the ruler of the golden day 
 From the fierce Lion glows with heat intense ; 
 M'hilo Ceres in the ripening field looks down 
 In smiles benign. Now with enraptured eye 
 Tho end of all his toil, and its reward, 
 The farmer views. Ah, gracious heaven ! attend 
 His fervent prayer : restrain the tempest's rage, 
 Tho dreadful blight disarm ; nor in one blast 
 Tho products of the laboring year destroy ! 
 Yet vain is heaven's indulgence ; for when now 
 In ready ranks the impatient reapers stand. 
 Armed with the scythe or sickle : — echoes shrill 
 Of winding horns, the shouts and hallowings loud 
 Of huntsmen, and the cry of opening hounds. 
 Float in the gale melodious, but invade 
 His frighted sense with dread. Near and more near 
 Tho unwelcome sounds approach ; and sudden o'er 
 His fence the tall stag bounds : in closo pursuit 
 Tho hunter train, on many a noble steed. 
 Undaunted follow ; while the eager pock 
 Burst unresisted through the yielding hedge. 
 In vain, unheard, the wretched hind exclaims : 
 The ruin of his crop in vain laments ; 
 Deaf to his cries, they traverse tho ripe field 
 In cruel exultation ; trampling down 
 Beneath their feet, in one short moment's sport, 
 The peace, the comfort of his future year. 
 Unfeeling wealth ! ah, when wilt thou forbear 
 Thy insults, thy injustice to the poor? 
 When taste the bliss of nursing in thy breast 
 The sweet sensations of humanity ? 
 Yet all aro not destroyers : some unspoiled 
 By fortune still preserve a feeling heart. 
 
 WBBAT-SnKAFl 
 
 BTE ; OATS i THB 
 
 Now see tho yellow fields, with laborers spread. 
 Resign their treasures to tho reaper's hand. 
 
66 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Here stands in comely order on the plain, 
 
 'Mid clustered sheafs, the king of golden corn. 
 
 Unbearded wheat, support of human life ; 
 
 There rises in round heaps the maltster's hope. 
 
 Grain which the reaper's care solicits best 
 
 By tempting promises of potent beer, 
 
 The joy, the meed of thirst-creating toil ; 
 
 The poor man's clammy fare ' the sickle reaps ; 
 
 The steed's light provender obeys the scythe. 
 
 labor and mirth united, glow beneath 
 
 The mid-day sun : the laughing hinds rejoice : 
 
 Their master's heart is opened, and his eye 
 
 Looks with indulgence on the gleaning poor. 
 
 At length, adorned with boughs and garlands gay. 
 
 Nods the last load along the shouting field. 
 
 Now to the God of harvest, in a song, 
 
 The grateful farmer pays accepted thanks, 
 
 With joy unfeigned : while to his ravished ear 
 
 The gratulations of assisting swains 
 
 Are music. His exulting soul expands : 
 
 He presses every aiding hand ; ho bids 
 
 The plenteous feast, beneath some spreading tree, 
 
 Load the large board ; and circulates the bowl. 
 
 The copious bowl, unmeasured, unrestrained, 
 
 A free libation to the immortal gods,' 
 
 Who crown with plenty the prolific soil. 
 
 APOSTROPHE TO GREAT BRITAIN ; 
 
 Delineates thought, and to the wondering eye 
 Embodies vocal air, and groups the sound. 
 
 IING-STONE, 
 
 Hail, favored island ! happy region, hail ! 
 Whose temperate skies, mild air, and genial dews, 
 Enrich the fertile glebe ; blessing thy sons 
 With various products, to the life of man 
 Indulgent. Thine Pomona's choicest gift, 
 The tasteful apple, rich with racy juice. 
 Theme of thy envied song, Silurian bard ; 
 Affording to the swains, in sparkling cups, 
 Delicious beverage. Thine, on Cantium's hills, 
 The flowery hop, whose tendrils climbing round 
 The tall aspiring pole, bear their light heads 
 Aloft, in pendent clusters ; which in malt's 
 Fermenting tuns infused, to mellow age 
 Preserves the potent draught. Thine too the plant. 
 To whose tough, stringy stalks thy numerous fleets 
 Owe their strong cordage : with her sister stem, 
 Her fairer sister, whence Minerva's ' tribe, 
 To enfold in softness beauty's lovely limbs. 
 Present their woven texture : and from whence, 
 A second birth, grows the papyrean ■'leaf, 
 A tablet firm, on which the painter bard 
 
 1 Rve of which is made a coarse, clammy kind of bread, 
 used "by the poorer people in many pnrU of England, on 
 account of its clieapness. It is a favorite bread with many 
 in the United States. 
 
 2 The author acknowledges the God of the Harvest, a few 
 lines above, and should not here restore an usurped domin 
 ion to ' the immortal gods,' long since happily deceased ; 
 his ' bowl,' likewise, is too ' unmeasured ' and ' unrestrained' 
 even for a heathen taste; as Epicurus taught at the end of 
 the previous canto. — J. 
 
 8 Minerva is said to have invented the art of weaving. 
 < The pellicle of the Egyptian plant, papyrus, was an- 
 ciently used for writing upon ; whence the name of paper. 
 
 THE BRrriSH MIKES ; COAL, FULLER'S EA 
 
 LIME, LEAD, IRQK J SMELTING OF IRON ORE. 
 
 With various blessings teems thy fruitful womb. 
 Lo ! from the depth of many a yawning mine. 
 Thy fossil treasures rise. Thy blazing hearths 
 From deep sulphureous pits, consumeless stores 
 Of fuel boast. The oil-imbibing earth," 
 The fuller's mill assisting, safe defies 
 All foreign rivals in the clothier's art. 
 The builder's stone thy numerous quarries hide ; 
 With lime, its close concomitant. The hills, 
 The barren hills of Derby's wildest peak, 
 In lead abound ; soft, fusile, malleable ; 
 Whose ample sheets thy venerable domes. 
 From rough inclement storms of wind and rain, 
 In safety clothe. Devona's ancient mines, 
 Whose treasures tempted first Phoenicia's sons 
 To court thy commerce, still exhaustless, yield 
 The valued ore, from whence, Britannia, thou 
 Thine honored ^ name deriv'st. Nor want'st thou 
 Of that all-useful metal, the support [store 
 
 Of every art mechanic. Hence arise 
 In Dean's large forest numerous glowing kilns, 
 The rough rude ore calcining ; whence conveyed 
 To the fierce furnace, its intenser heat 
 Melts the hard mass, which flows an iron stream, 
 On sandy beds below : and stitfening there, 
 A ponderous lump, but to the hammer tamed, 
 Takes from the forge, in bars, its final form. 
 
 FISHERIES OF BRITAIN; BIRDS, CATTLE; FLOWERS AND FRCITS; 
 
 But the glad muse, from subterranean caves 
 Emerging, views with wonder and delight 
 What numerous products still remain unsung. 
 With fish abound thy streams; thy sheltering woods 
 To fowl give friendly covert ; and thy plains 
 The cloven-footed race, in various herds, 
 Range undisturbed. Fair Flora's sweetest buds 
 Blow on thy beauteous bosom ; and her fruits 
 Pomona pours in plenty on thy lap. 
 
 Thou to the dyer's tinging cauldron giv'st 
 The yellow-staining weed, luteola^; 
 The glastum'' brown, with which thy naked sons 
 In ancient time their hardy limbs distained ; 
 Nor the rich rubia* does thine hand withhold. 
 
 prohibited. Dr. Woodward says this fossil is of 
 more value to England than the mines of Peru would be. 
 
 2 The learned antiquary, Bocliart, is of opinion that the 
 Phcenicians, coming to buy tin in the island of Albion, gave 
 it the name of Barat-Anac ; that is, the land or country of 
 Tin ; which, being softened by the Greeks into Britannia, 
 was adopted by the Romans. This etymology seems to be 
 confirmed by the Grecians calling the isles of Scilly, Cassl- 
 terides, which signifies in Greek the same as Barat-Anac in 
 Phoinician. — Rapin. 
 
 s Wield, commonly called dyer's wood. * Woad. 
 
 6 Madder, which is used by the dyers for making the most 
 solid and richest red ; and, as Mortimer observes, was 
 thought so valuable in King Charles the First's time, that 
 
SPRINa — APRIL. 
 
 67 
 
 PBODCCTS or BRITAIM. 
 
 Grateful and salutary spring the plants 
 Which crown thy numerous gardens, and invito 
 To health and temperance, in the simple meal, 
 Unstained with murder, undefiled with blood, 
 Unpoisoned with rich sauces, to provoke 
 Tho unwilling appetite to gluttony. 
 For this the bulbous esculents their roots 
 With sweetness fill ; for this, with cooling juice 
 The green herb spreads its leaves; and opening buds, 
 And flowers and seeds, with various flavors tempt 
 The ensanguined palato from its savage feast. 
 
 , LAVKVDEn, MINT, 
 
 TOE HEDICIXAL PLANTS OF BRITAIS ; 
 VALKRIAN, ANGELICA, CAMOMILE, 
 
 Nor hath the god of physio and of day 
 Forgot to shed kind influence on thy plants 
 Medicinal. Lo ! from his beaming rays 
 Their various energies to every herb 
 Imparted flow. lie the salubrious leaf 
 Of cordial sage, the purple-flowering head 
 Of fragrant lavender, enlivening mint. 
 Valerian's fetid smell, endows benign 
 With their cephalic virtues. He the root 
 Of broad angelica, and tufted flower 
 Of creeping camomile, impregnates deep 
 With powers carminative. In every brake 
 AVormwood and centaury their bitter juice, 
 To aid digestion's sickly powers, refine. 
 
 , QVALITIES OF BRmSH PLANTS J MABSH-MALL0W3, 
 EEVXOO, HTPEBICrM, LIQIOBICE, POPPY, BAtTM, SAFFBOS, 
 THISTLE, BOSS, VIOLET. 
 
 The smooth althffia • its balsamic wave 
 Indulgent pours. Eryngo's strengthening root 
 Surrounds thy sea-girt isle, restorative. 
 Fair Queen of Love, to thy enfeebled sons. 
 Hypericum,' beneath each sheltering bush, 
 Its healing virtue modestly conceals. 
 Thy friendly soil to liquorice imparts 
 Its dulcet moisture, whence the laboring lungs 
 Of panting asthma find a sure relief. 
 The scarlet poppy, on thy painted fields, 
 Bows his somniferous head, inviting soon 
 To peaceful slumber the disordered mind : 
 Lo ! from the balm's exhilarating leaf. 
 The moping fiend, black melancholy, flies ; 
 And burning febris, with its lenient flood. 
 Cools her hot entrails ; or cmbathes her limbs 
 In sudorific streams, that cleansing flow 
 From saffron's friendly spring. Thou too canst boast 
 The blessed thistle,' whoso rejective power 
 Believes the loaded viscera ; and to thee 
 The rose, the violet, their emollient leaves 
 On every bosh, on every bank, display. 
 
 These are thy products, fair Britannia, these 
 Tho copious blessings, which thy envied sons, 
 Divided and distinguished from the world, 
 Secure and free, beneath just laws, enjoy, 
 Nor dread tho ravage of destructive war ; 
 Nor black contagion's pestilential breath ; [towns. 
 Nor rending earth's convulsions, — fields, flocks, 
 Swallowed abrupt, in ruin's frightful jaws ; 
 Nor worse, far worse than all, the iron hand 
 Of lawless power, stretched o'er precarious wealth, — 
 Lands, liberty, and life, the wanton prey 
 Of its enormous, unresisted gripe. 
 
 But further now in vegetation's paths, [crops. 
 Through cultured fields, and woods, and waving 
 The wearied muse forbears to wind her walk. 
 To flocks and herds her future strains aspire, 
 And let tho listening hinds instructed hear 
 The closing precepts of her labored song. 
 
 Lo ! on the other side yon slanting hill, 
 Beneath a spreading oak's broad foliage, sits 
 The shepherd swain, and patient by his side 
 His watchful dog ; while round the nibbling flocks 
 Spread their white fleeces o'er tho verdant slope, 
 A landscape pleasing to the painter's eye. 
 Mark his maternal care. The tender race. 
 Of heat impatient, as of pinching cold 
 Afraid, he shelters from the rising sun. 
 Beneath the mountain's western side ; and when 
 The evening beam shoots eastward, turning seeks 
 The alternate umbrage. Now to the sweetest food 
 Of fallowed fields he leads, and nightly folds. 
 To enrich the exhausted soil : defending safe 
 From murderous thieves, and from the prowling fox. 
 Their helple: 
 
 DISEASES OF SmiEP J MASGE CURED WITH TOBACCO ; VEBMI 
 
 His skilful eye 
 Studious explores the latent ills which prey 
 Upon the bleating nation. The foul mange 
 Infectious, their impatient foot, by oft 
 Repeated scratohings, will betray. This calls 
 For his immediate aid, tho spreading taint 
 To stop. Tobacco, in the briny wave 
 Infused, affords a wash of sovereign use 
 To heal the dire disease. The wriggling tail 
 Sure indication gives, that, bred beneath, 
 Devouring vermin lurk : these, or with dust 
 Or deadened lime besprinkled thick, fall off 
 In smothered crowds. 
 
 TOE unuuLV m sukep j its symptoms asd cvee. 
 Diseases numerous 
 Assault the harmless race : but the chief fiend. 
 Which taints with rottenness their inward frame, 
 And sweeps them from the plain in putrid heaps, 
 ho smell, — this, this demands 
 
RURAL POETRY. DODSLEY. 
 
 His watchful care. If he perceives the fleece 
 In patches lost"; if the dejected eye 
 Looks pale and languid ; if the rosy gums 
 Change to a yellow foulness ; and the breath, 
 Panting and short, emits a sickly stench ; 
 ■Warned by the fatal symptoms, he removes 
 To rising grounds and dry the tainted flock ; 
 The best expedient to restore that health 
 Which the full pasture, or the low damp moor 
 Endangered. But if hare and barren hills, 
 Or dry and sandy pl.ains, too far removed. 
 Deny th, ir -.ud --lie spo«lily prepares 
 Rue's l.iitr, jui.T, «iili l.viue 
 
 Injecti' 
 
 brimstone mixed, 
 ih from an horn 
 rous malady. 
 
 Cautious and fearful, 
 Recruit their flocks ; as 
 The tender frame hath 
 Ambitious should ! 
 
 vc-d. 
 
 early Spring 
 le wintry storms 
 But he whose ail 
 1 the breed. 
 
 Refulgent Summer now his hot domain 
 Hath carried to the tropic, and begins 
 His backward journey. Now beneath the sun 
 Mellowing their fleeces for the impending shears, 
 The woolly people in full clothing sweat : 
 When the smooth current of a limpid brook 
 The shepherd seeks, and plunging in its waves 
 The frighted innocents, their whitening robes 
 In the clear stream grow pure. Emerging hence. 
 On littered straw the bleating flocks recline 
 Till glowing heat shall dry, and breathing dews 
 Perspiring soft, again through all the fleece 
 Diffuse their oily fatness. Then the swain 
 Prepares the elastic shears, and gently down 
 The patient creature hays ; divesting soon 
 Its lightened limbs of their encumbering load. 
 
 S ORTGIS OF BRITISH COMMERCE. 
 
 BRITISH WOOL, THE 
 
 more than mines of gold, than diamonds far 
 More precious, more important is the fleece ! 
 This, this the solid base on which the sons 
 Of commerce build, exalted to the sky, 
 The structure of their grandeur, wealth, and power. 
 Hence in the earliest childhood of her state, 
 Ere yet her merchants spread the British sail, 
 To earth descending in a radiant cloud, 
 Britannia seized the invaluable spoil. 
 To ocean's verge exulting swift she flew ; 
 There, on the bosom of the bounding wave. 
 Raised on her pearly car, fair commerce rode 
 Sublime, the goddess of the watery world, 
 On every coast, in every clime adored. 
 High waving in her hand the woolly prize, 
 Britannia hailed and beckoned to her shore 
 The power benign. Invited by the fleece, 
 From whence her penetrating eyes foresaw 
 AVhat mighty honors to her name should rise. 
 She beamed a gracious smilo. The obedient winds. 
 Reined by her hand, conducted to the beach 
 Her sumptuous car. But more convenient place 
 The muse shall find, to sing the friendly league. 
 Which, here commenced, to time's remotest age 
 1 Shall bear the glory of the British sail. 
 
 In fruitful autumn stocks the bleating field 
 With buxom ewes, that, to their soft desires 
 Indulgent, he may give the noblest rams. 
 Yet not too early in the genial sport 
 Invite the modest ewe ; let Michael's feast 
 Commemorate the deed ; lest the cold hand 
 Of Winter pinch too hard the uew-yeaned lamb. 
 
 HOW TO CHOOSE A RA.M ', GOOD POINTS ", FIGHT. 
 
 How nice, how delicate appears his choice. 
 When fixing on the sire to raise his flock ! 
 His shape, his marks, how curious he surveys ! 
 His body large and deep, his buttocks broad, 
 Give indication of internal strength ; 
 Be short his leg, yet active ; small his head ; 
 So shall Lucina's pains less pungent prove, 
 And less the hazard of the teeming ewe ! 
 Long be his tail, and large his wool-grown ear ; 
 Thic\, shining, white, his fleece ; his hazel eye 
 Large, bold, and cheerful ; and his horns, if horns 
 You choose, not straight, but curving round and 
 
 round 
 On either side his head. These the sole arms 
 His inoffensive mildness bears ; not made 
 For shedding blood, nor hostile war ; yet these. 
 When love, all-powerful, swells his breast, and 
 Into his heart new courage, these he aims, [pours 
 With meditated fury, at his foe. 
 
 In glowing colors, here the tempted muse 
 Might paint the rushing conflict, when, provoked. 
 The rival rams, opposing front to front. 
 Spring forth with desperate madness to the fight : 
 But as deterred by the superior bard. 
 Whose steps, at awful distance, I revere. 
 Nor dare to tread ; so by the thundering strife 
 Of his majestic fathers of the herd. 
 My feebler combatants appalled retreat. 
 
 MlLCH COWS 5 MILKING. 
 
 At leisure now, let me once again, 
 Once, ere I leave the cultivated fields, 
 My favorite Patty, in her dairy's pride. 
 Revisit ; and the generous steeds which grace 
 The pastures of her swain, well pleased, survey. 
 The lowing kine, see, at their 'customed hour, 
 Wait the returning pail. The rosy maids. 
 Crouching beneath their sides, in copious streams 
 Exhaust the swelling udder. Vessels large 
 And broad, by the sweet hand of neatness cleaned, 
 Meanwhile, in decent order ranged, appear. 
 The milky treasure, strained through filtering lawn, 
 Intended to receive. 
 
 pilRT WORK DESCRIBED -, PATTY MAKING EDTTEB. 
 
 At early day. 
 Sweet slumber shaken from her opening lids. 
 My lovely Patty to her dairy hies : 
 
SPRING — APRIL. 
 
 Thoro from the surface of expanded bowls 
 She skims the floating orcam, and to her churn 
 Commits the rich consistence ; nor disdains, 
 Though soft her hand, though delicate her frame. 
 To urge the rural toil ; fond to obtain 
 The country housewife's name and praise. 
 Continued agitation sep'ratos soon 
 The unctuous particles ; with gentler strokes. 
 And artful, soon thoy coalesce ; at length. 
 Cool water pouring from the limpid spring 
 Into a smooth-glazed vessel, deep and wide. 
 She gathers the loose fragments to an heap ; 
 Which in the cleansing wave well wrought, and 
 To one consistent golden mass, receives [pressed 
 The sprinkled seasoning, and of parts, or pounds. 
 The fair impression, the neat shape assumes. 
 
 CBEESE-XIKINO. 
 
 Is cheese her care ? Warm from the teat she 
 The milky flood. An acid juice infused, [pours 
 From the dried stomach drawn of suckling calf,' 
 Coagulates the whole. Immediate now 
 Her spreading hands bear down the gathering curd. 
 Which hard and harder grows ; till, clear and thin. 
 The green whey rises separate. Happy swains ! 
 0, how I envy ye the luscious draught. 
 The soft salubrious beverage ! To a vat, 
 The size and fashion which her taste approves, 
 She bears the snow-white heaps, her future cheese ; 
 And the strong press establishes its form. 
 
 But nicer cates, her dairy's boasted fare. 
 The jellied cream, or custard, daintiest food, 
 Or cheese-cake, or the cooling syllabub. 
 For 'I'hyrsis she prepares ; who from the field. 
 Returning, with the kiss of love sincere, 
 Salutes her rosy lip. A tender look, 
 Meantime, and cheerful smiles his welcome speak: 
 Down to their frugal board contentment sits. 
 And calls it feasting. Prattling infants dear 
 Engage their fond regard, and closer tie 
 The baud of nuptial love. They, happy, feel 
 Eaeh other's bliss, and, both in different spheres 
 Employed, nor seek nor wish that cheating charm. 
 Variety, which idlers to their aid 
 Call iu, to make the length of lazy lifo 
 Drag on less heavily. Domestic cares. 
 Her children and her dairy, well divide 
 The appropriated hours, and duty makes 
 Employment pleasure. He, delighted, gives 
 Each busy season of the rolling year. 
 To raise, to feed, to improve the generous horse ; 
 And fit for various use his strength or speed. 
 
 Dull, patient, heavy, of large limbs, robust. 
 Whom neither beauty marks, nor spirits fire : 
 Him, to the servile toil of dragging slow 
 The burdened carriage ; or to drudge beneath 
 
 A ponderous load imposed, his justice dooms. 
 Yet, straining in the enormous cjirs which crowd 
 Thy bustling streets, Augusta, queen of trade, 
 What noble beasts are scon ! sweating beneath 
 Their toil, they tremble at the driver's whip. 
 Urged with malicious fury on the parts 
 Where feeling lives most sensible of pain. 
 Fell tyrants, hold ! forbear your hell-born rage ! 
 See ye not every sinew, every nerve. 
 Stretched e'en to bursting? Villains! — but the 
 Quick from the savage rufiians turns her eye, [muse 
 Frowning indignant. Steeds of hardier kind. 
 And cool though sprightly, to the travelled road 
 He destines ; sure of foot, of steady pace, 
 Active, and persevering, uncompelled. 
 The tedious length of many a beaten mile. 
 
 But not alone to these inferior tribes 
 The ambitious swain confines his generous breed. 
 Hark ! in his fields, when now the distant sounds 
 Of winding horns, and dogs, and huntmen's shout, 
 Awake the sense, his kindling hunter neighs ; 
 Quick start his ears erect, his beating heart 
 E.\ults, his light limbs bound, he bears aloft. 
 Raised by tunuiltuous joy, his tossing head ; 
 Aii'l ;iII-liii|Mn. rii i",,r the well-knoivn sport, 
 L' M ! I ill ■ ' , ;iiid, listening to the cry, 
 I'lii J I 1 t nv speed the chase. 
 
 Str ' . ' I t!, ■ jl nil Ih- sweeps, nor hedge nor ditch 
 Obstructs his eager flight ; nor straining hills, 
 Nor headlong steeps deter the vig'rous steed : 
 Till joined at length, associate of the sport, 
 He mingles with the train, stops as they stop. 
 Pursues as they pursue, and all the wild, 
 Enlivening raptures of the field enjoys. 
 
 Easy in motion, perfect in his form. 
 His boasted lineage drawn from steeds of blood. 
 He the fleet courser, too, exulting shows. 
 And points with pride his beauties. Neatly set 
 His lively head, and glowing in his eye 
 True spirit lives. His nostril wide inhales 
 With ease the ambient air. His body firm 
 And round ; upright his joints ; his horny hoofs 
 Small, shining, light ; and large his ample reach. 
 His limbs, though slender, braced with sinewy 
 
 strength, 
 Declare his winged speed. His temper mild. 
 Yet high his mettled heart. Hence in the race 
 All emulous, he hears the clashing whips ; 
 He feels the animating shouts ; exerts 
 With eagerness his utmost powers ; and strains. 
 And springs, and flies, to reach the destined go<u. 
 
 But, lo ! the boast, the glory of his stalls. 
 His warrior steed appears. What comely pridCj 
 What dignity, what grace, attend on all 
 His motions ! See ! exulting in his strength, 
 
70 
 
 RURAL POETRY. DODSLEY TTJSSER. 
 
 He paws the ground impatient. On his brow 
 
 Courage enthroned sits, and animates 
 
 His fearless eye. He bends his arched crest, 
 
 His mane loose-flowing, ruflies in the wind, 
 
 Clothing his chest with fury. Proud, he snorts, 
 
 Champs on the foaming bit, and prancing high, 
 
 Disdainful seems to tread the sordid earth. 
 
 Yet hears he and obeys his master voice. 
 
 All gentleness : and feels, with conscious pride. 
 
 His dappled neck clapped with a cheering hand. 
 
 THE CAVALRY CHARGE DESCRIBED ; THE DCTKE OF CUMBER- 
 
 But when the battle's martial sounds invade 
 His ear, when drums and trumpets loud proclaim 
 The rushing onset ; when thick smoke, when fire, 
 Burst thundering from the cannon's awful mouth ; 
 Then all inspired he kindles into flame ! 
 Intrepid, neighs aloud ; and, panting, seems 
 Impatient to express his swelling joys 
 Unutterable. On danger's brink he stands. 
 And mocks at fear. Then springing with delight. 
 Plunges into the wild confusion. Terror flies 
 Before his dreadful front ; and in his rear 
 Destruction marks her bloody progress. Such, 
 Such was the steed thou, Cumberland, bestrod'st, 
 When black rebellion fell beneath thy hand, 
 Rome and her papal tyranny subdued. 
 
 On great Cullodeu's memorable field. [throne 
 
 Such thine, unconquered Marlborough, when the 
 Of Louis tottered, and thy glittering steel 
 On Blenheim's plain iihmortal trophies reaped. 
 
 TRIBUTE TO THE KING ; ENGLAND IS WAR AND PEACE J FARM- 
 
 And such, prince ! * great patron of my theme. 
 Should e'er insidious France again presume 
 On Europe's freedom, such, though all averse 
 To slaughtering war, thy country shall present 
 To bear her hero to the martial plain, 
 Armed with the sword of justice. Other cause 
 Ne'er shall ambition's sophistry persuade 
 Thine honor to espouse. Britannia's peace ; 
 Her sacred rights ; her just, her equal laws : 
 These, these alone, to cherish or defend. 
 Shall raise thy youthful arm, and wake to war. 
 To dreadful war, the British lion's rage. 
 
 But milder stars on thy illustrious birth 
 Their kindest influence shed. Beneath the smile 
 Of thy indulgence, the protected arts 
 Lifting their graceful heads — her envied sail 
 Fair commerce spreading to remotest climes — 
 And plenty rising from the encouraged plough — 
 Shall feed, enrich, adorn, the happy land. 
 
 tiusscr's "l^pil's iitsir 
 
 aiiBriK 
 
 * * If April be dripping, then do I not hate, 
 For him that hath little, his fallowing late ; 
 Else otherwise, fallowing timely is best. 
 For saving of cattle, of plough, and the rest. 
 Be suer of plough to be ready at hand. 
 Ere oompas' ye spread that on hillocks did stand ; 
 Lest drying, so lying, do make it decay. 
 Ere ever much water do wash it away. * * 
 Get into thy hop-yard with plenty of poles, 
 Among those same hillocks divide them by doles. 
 Three poles to a hillock (I pass not how long). 
 Shall yield thee more profit, set deeply and strong. 
 Sell bark to the tanner ere timber ye fell ; 
 Cut low by the ground, else do ye not well. 
 In breaking, save crooked, for mill and for ships ; 
 And ever, in hewing, save carpentei-'s chips. 
 First see it well fenced, ere hewers begin ; 
 Then see it well stadled,'' without and within ; * * 
 Leave growing for stadles the likest and best. 
 Though seller and buyer dispatched the rest. * * 
 
 1 2 ' Cotnnas ' means compost manure. To ' stadle ' is, 
 
 Save elm, ash, crab-tree, for cart and for plough ; 
 
 Save step for a stile, of the crotch of the bough : 
 
 Save hazel for forks, save sallow for rake ; 
 
 Save hulver ^ and thorn, thereof flail to make. * * 
 
 The land is well hearted, with help of the fold, 
 
 For one or two crops, if so long it will hold. 
 
 If shepherd would keep them from 'stroying of corn, 
 
 The walk of his sheep might the better be borne. 
 
 Where stones be 1 
 
 Make servant con 
 
 By daily so doing have plenty ye shall. 
 
 Both handsome for paving, and good for a wall. 
 
 From April beginning, till Andrew = be past. 
 
 So long with good huswife her dairy doth last ; 
 
 Good milch-cow and pasture good husbands provide, 
 
 The res'due, good huswives know best how to guide. 
 
 Ill huswife, unskilful, to make her own cheese, 
 
 Through trusting of others, has this for her fees : 
 
 Her milk-pan and cream-pot so slabbered and sost,^ 
 
 That butter is wanting, and cheese is half lost. * * 
 
 J antique r 
 
 for holly. 
 November 30. ' Sost ' means sn-illed J 
 word still heard in New England. 
 
liinil ''*SMi\tis for 
 
 ^P 
 
 BLOOMFIELD'S " ABNER AND THE 
 WIDOW JONES.'' 
 
 Well! I'm dotonuiDed ; that's enough : — 
 Gee, Bayard ! move your poor old bones ; 
 
 I 'U take to-morrow, smooth or rough, 
 To go and court the Widow Jones. 
 
 Our master talks of stable-room, 
 And younger horses on his grounds ; 
 
 'T is easy to foresee thy doom, — 
 
 Bayard, thou 'it go to feed the hounds. 
 
 But could I win the widow's hand, 
 
 I 'd make a truce 'twixt death and thee ; 
 
 For thou upon tho best of land 
 
 Shouldst feed, and live and die with me. 
 
 And must tho pole-axe lay theo low ? 
 
 And will they pick thy poor old bones ? 
 No — hang me if it shall bo so, 
 
 If I can win the Widow Jones. 
 
 Twirl went his stick ; his curly pato 
 
 A bran-new hat uplifted bore ; 
 And Abner, as he leapt the gate, 
 
 Had never looked so gay before. 
 
 And every spark of love revived 
 
 That had perplexed him long ago. 
 When busy folks and fools contrived 
 
 To make his Mary answer — No. 
 
 But whether, freed from recent vows. 
 Her heart had back to Abuer flown, 
 
 And marked him for a second spouse, 
 In truth is not exactly known. 
 
 Howbeit, as he came in sight. 
 
 She turned her from the garden stile, 
 
 And downward looked with pure delight, 
 With half a sigh and half a smile. 
 
 She heard his sounding step behind ; 
 
 The blush of joy crept up her cheek. 
 As cheerly floated on the wind, 
 
 ' Hoi ! Mary Jones — what, won't you speak ? ' 
 
 Then, with a look that ne'er deceives. 
 She turned, but found her courage fled ; 
 
 And scolding sparrows from tho eaves 
 Peeped forth upon the stranger's head. 
 
 Down Abner sat, with glowing heart. 
 
 Resolved, whatever might betide, 
 To speak his mind, — no other art 
 
 He ever knew, or ever tried. 
 
 And gently twitching Mary's hand, — 
 The bench hod ample room for two, — 
 
 His first word made her understand 
 The ploughman's errand was to woo. 
 
 * My Mary — may I call thee so ? 
 
 For many a happy day wo 've seen, 
 And if not mine, ay, years ago, 
 
 M''hose vrii» the fault ? — you might have been. 
 
 * All that 's gone by : but I 'vo been musing, 
 
 And vowed, and hoi>e to keep it true, 
 That she shall be my own heart's choosing, 
 Whom I call wife. — Hey, what say you ? 
 
 * And as I drove my plough along, 
 
 And felt the strength that 's in my arm, 
 Ten years, thought I, amidst my song, 
 
 I 'vc been head-man at Harewood farm. 
 'And, now my own dear Mary's free, 
 
 Wlioin T have loved this many a day, 
 Who knows but ^he may think on me ? 
 
 I '11 go hear what sho has to say. 
 
 * Perhaps that little stock of land 
 
 She holds, but knows not how to till, 
 Will suffer in the widow's hand, 
 
 And make poor Mary poorer still. 
 'That scrap of land, with one like her, 
 
 How we might live ! and be so blest ! 
 And who should Jlary Jones prefer ? 
 
 Why, surely, him who loves her best ! 
 
 ' Therefore, I 'm come to night, sweet wench, 
 
 I would not idly thus intrude,' — 
 Mary looked downward on the bench, 
 
 O'crpowered by lovo and gratitude. 
 Sho leaned her head against the vine, 
 
 With quickening sobs of silent bliss : 
 Till Abner cried, ' You must bo mine ; 
 
 You must,* — and sealed it with a kis5. 
 
 Sho talked of shame, and wiped her cheek ; 
 
 But what had shame with them to do, 
 Who nothing meant but truth to speak. 
 
 And downright honor to pursue ? 
 His eloquence improved apace, 
 
 As manly pity filled his mind ; 
 ' You know poor Bayard ; here 's tho case, — 
 
 He 's past his labor, old, and blind : 
 ' If you and I should but agree 
 
 To settle here for good and all, 
 Could you give all your heart to me, 
 
 And grudge that poor old rogue a stall ! 
 
72 
 
 RURAL POETRY. BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 ' I '11 buy him, for the dogs shall ne 
 
 Set tooth upon a friend so true ; 
 He '11 not live long, but I forever 
 
 Shall know ; 
 
 
 the beast 1 
 
 
 ' 'jMongst all I 've known of ploughs and carts, 
 And ever since I learned to drive. 
 
 He was not matched in all these parts ; 
 There was not such a horse alive ! 
 
 * Ready as birds to meet the mom. 
 
 Were all his efforts at the plough ; 
 Then, the mill-brook with hay or corn. 
 
 Good creature ! how he 'd spatter through ! 
 
 * He was a horse of mighty power, 
 
 Compact in frame, and strong of limb ; 
 Went with a chirp from hour to hour ; 
 
 Whip-cord ! 't was never made for him. 
 ' I left him in the shafts behind, 
 
 His fellows all unhooked and gone ; 
 He neighed, and deemed the thing unkind. 
 
 Then, starting, drew the load alone ! 
 ' But I might talk till pitch-dark night, 
 
 And then have something left to say ; 
 But, Mary, am I wrong or right. 
 
 Or, do I throw my words away ? 
 ' Leave me, or take me and my horse ; 
 
 I 've told thee truth, and all I know : 
 Truth should breed truth ; that comes of course 
 
 If I sow wheat, why, wheat will grow. 
 ' Yes, Abner, but thus soon to yield, 
 
 Neighbors would fleer and look behind 'em 
 Though, with a husband in the field, 
 
 Perhaps, indeed, I should not mind 'em. 
 
 * I 've known your generous nature well. 
 
 My first denial cost me dear ; 
 How this may end we cannot tell, 
 
 But, as for Bayard, bring him here.' 
 ' Bless thee for that ! ' the ploughman cried. 
 
 At once both starting from the seat ; 
 He stood a guardian by her side. 
 
 But talked of home, — 't was growing late. 
 Then step for step within his arm. 
 
 She cheered him down the dewy way ; 
 And no two birds upon the farm 
 
 E'er prated with more joy than they. 
 What news at home ? The smile he wore 
 
 One little sentence turned to sorrow ; 
 An order met him at the door, 
 
 ' Take Bayard to the dogs to-morrow.' 
 Yes, yes, thought he, and heaved a sigh ; 
 
 Die when he will he 's not your debtor : 
 I must obey, and he must die, — 
 
 That 's if I can't contrive it better. 
 He left his Mary late at night. 
 
 And had succeeded in the main ; 
 No sooner peeped the morning light 
 
 But he was on the road again ! 
 
 Suppose she should refuse her hand ? 
 
 Such thoughts will come, I know not why ; 
 Shall I, without a wife or land, 
 
 Want an old horse ? — then, wherefore buy ? 
 From bush to bush, from stile to stile. 
 
 Perplexed he trod the fallow ground. 
 And told his money all the while. 
 
 And weighed the matter round and round. 
 'I'll borrow,' that's the best thought yet ; 
 
 Mary shall save the horse's life. — 
 Kind-hearted wench ! what, run in debt 
 
 Before I know she 'II be my wife ? 
 These women won't speak plain and free. — 
 
 Well, well, I '11 keep my service still ; 
 She has not said she 'd marry me. 
 
 But yet I dare to say she will. 
 But while I take this shay-brained course. 
 
 And like a fool run to and fro, 
 Master, perhaps, may sell the horse ! 
 
 Therefore, this instant home I '11 go. 
 The nightly rain had drenched the grove, 
 
 He plunged right on with headlong pace ; 
 A man but half as much in love 
 
 Perhaps had found a cleaner place. 
 The day rose fair ; with team a-field. 
 
 He watched the farmer's cheerful brow ; 
 And in a lucky hour revealed 
 
 His secret at his post, — the plough. 
 And there without a whine began, 
 
 ' Master, you '11 give me your advice ; 
 I 'm going to marry — if I can — 
 
 And want old Bayard ; what 's his price ? 
 ' For Maty Jones last night agreed. 
 
 Or near upon 't, to be my wife : 
 The horse's value I don't heed, 
 
 I only want to save his life.' 
 ' Buy him, hey ! Abner, trust me, I 
 
 Have not the thought of gain in view ; 
 Bayard's best days we 've seen go by ; 
 
 He shall be cheap enough to you.' 
 The wages paid, the horse brought out. 
 
 The hour of separation come ; 
 The farmer turned bis chair about, — 
 
 * Good fellow, take him, — take him home. 
 • You 're welcome, Abner, to the beast. 
 
 For you 've a faitnful servant been ; 
 They '11 thrive, I doubt not in the least, 
 
 Who know what work and service mean.' 
 The maids at parting, one and all. 
 
 From different windows different tones, 
 Bade him farewell with many a bawl, 
 
 And sent their love to Mary Jones. 
 He waved his hat, and turaed away, 
 
 When loud the cry of children rose ; 
 ' Abner, good-by ! ' they stopt their play ; 
 
 ' There goes poor Bayard ! — there he goes ! * 
 
SPRING — APRIL. 
 
 73 
 
 Half ohokcd with joy, with lovo, and pridO; 
 
 IIo now with duintj clover fed him, 
 Now took a short triumphant ride, 
 
 And then again got down and led him. 
 
 And hobbling onward up the hill, 
 
 The widow's house was full in sight. 
 He pulled the bridle harder still, 
 
 ' Como on, we shan't bo there to-night.' 
 She met them with a smile so sweet. 
 
 The stable-door was open thrown ; 
 The blind horse lifted high his feet, 
 
 And, loudly snorting, laid him down. 
 
 0, Vietory ! from that stock of laurels 
 You keep so snug for camps and thrones. 
 
 Spare us one twitj from all their quarrels. 
 For Abuer and the AVidow Jones. 
 
 TICKELL-S "LCCY AND COLIN.' 
 
 A BALLAD. 
 Of Leinster, famed for maidens fair. 
 
 Bright Lucy was the grace : 
 Nor e'er did Liffcy's limpid stream 
 
 Reflect so fair a face. 
 
 Till luckless love and pining care 
 
 Impaired her rosy hue. 
 Her coral lips and damask cheeks, 
 
 And eyes of glossy blue. 
 
 0, have you seen a lily pale, 
 "When beating rains descend ? 
 
 So drooped the slow-consuming maid. 
 Her life now near its end. 
 
 By Lucy warned, of flattering swains 
 
 Take heed, you easy fair ; 
 Of vengeance due to broken vows, 
 
 Ye perjured swains, beware. 
 
 Three times, all in the dead of night, 
 
 A bell was heard to rjng. 
 And shrieking at her window thrico 
 
 A raven flapped his wing. 
 
 Too well the love-lorn maiden knew 
 
 The solemn boding sound. 
 And thus in dying words bespoko 
 
 The virgins weeping round : 
 
 I hear a voice you cannot hear. 
 Which says I must not stay ; 
 
 I see a hand you cannot see, 
 Which beckons me away. 
 
 By a false heart and broken vows. 
 
 In early youth I die : 
 Am I to blame because his bride 
 
 Is thrice as rich as I ? 
 
 Ah, Colin ! give not her thy vows, 
 
 Vows duo to me alone ; 
 Nor thou, fond maid, receive the kiss. 
 
 Nor think him all thy own. 
 
 To-morrow in the church to wed. 
 
 Impatient, both prepare ; 
 But know, fond maid, and know, false man. 
 
 That Lucy will be there ! 
 
 There bear my corse, ye comrades, bear. 
 The bridegroom blithe to meet ; 
 
 He in hia wedding trim ao gay, 
 I in my winding ahect. 
 
 She spoke, sho died ! — her corso was home. 
 The bridegroom blithe to meet — 
 
 Ho in his wedding trim so gay, 
 She in her winding sheet. 
 
 Then what were perjured Colin's thoughts? 
 
 How were those nuptials kept ? 
 The bridemen flocked round Lucy dead. 
 
 And all the village wept. 
 
 f^niTi i II. -1i ihii , remorse, despair, 
 
 From the vain bride — all, bride no more ! 
 
 The varying crimson fled ; 
 When, stretched before her rival's corse, 
 
 She saw her husband dead. 
 
 He to his Lucy's new-made grave. 
 Conveyed by trembling swains. 
 
 One mould with her, beneath one sod. 
 Forever now remains. 
 
 Oft at this grave the constant hind 
 
 And plighted maid are seen ; 
 With garlands gay, and true-love knota. 
 
 They deck the sacred green. 
 
 But, swain forsworn ! whoe'er thou art. 
 
 This hallowed spot forbear ; 
 Remember Colin's dreadful fate, 
 
 And fear to meet him there. 
 
 BLOOMFIELD'S " FAKENHAM GHOST." 
 
 The lawns were dry in Enston park ; — 
 Here truth • inspires my tale — 
 
 The lonely footpath, still and dark. 
 Led over hill and dale. 
 
 Benighted was an ancient dame. 
 
 And fearful haste she made 
 To gain the vaie of Fakenham, 
 
 And hail its willow shade. 
 
 10 
 
RURAL POETRY. — BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 Her footsteps knew no idle stops, 
 
 But followed faster still ; 
 And echoed to the darksome copse 
 
 That whispered on the hill ; 
 
 Where clam'rous rooks, yet scarcely hushed, 
 
 Bespoke a peopled shade. 
 And many a wing the foliage brushed, 
 
 And hovering circuits made. 
 
 The dappled herd of grazing deer, 
 
 That sought the shades by day, 
 Now started from her path with fear, 
 
 And gave the stranger way. 
 
 Darker it grew ; and darker fears 
 
 Came o'er her troubled mind, 
 When now, a short quick step she hears 
 
 Come patting close behind. 
 
 She turned ; it stopped — naught could she st 
 
 Upon the gloomy plain ! 
 But as she strove the sprite to flee. 
 
 She heard the same again ! 
 
 Now terror seized her quaking frame ; 
 
 For, where the path was bare, 
 The trotting Ghost kept on the same ! 
 
 She muttered many a prayer. 
 
 Yet once again, amidst her fright, 
 
 She tried what sight could do ; 
 When through the cheating glooms of night, 
 
 A monster stood in view ! 
 
 Regardless of whate'er she felt, 
 
 It followed down the plain ! 
 She owned her sins, and down she knelt. 
 
 And said her prayers again. 
 
 Then on she sped, and hope grew strong — 
 
 The white park gate in view ; 
 Which pushing hard, so long it swung. 
 
 That Ghost and all passed through ! 
 
 Loud fell the gate against the post ! 
 
 Her heart-strings like to crack ; 
 For much she feared the grisly Ghost 
 
 Would leap upon her back ! 
 
 Still on, pat, pat, the goblin went. 
 
 As it had done before : — 
 Her strength and resolution spent, 
 
 She fainted at the door. 
 
 Out came her husband much surprised, — 
 
 Out came her daughter dear ; 
 Good-natured souls ! all unadvised 
 
 Of what they had to fear ! 
 
 The candle's gleam pierced through the night, 
 
 Some short space o'er the green. 
 And there the little trotting sprite 
 
 Distinctly might be seen. 
 
 An Ass's Foal had lost its dam 
 
 Within the spacious park. 
 And, simple as the playful lamb. 
 
 Had followed in the dark. 
 
 No goblin he ; no imp of sin ; 
 
 No crimes had ever known. 
 They took the shaggy stranger in, 
 
 And reared him as their own. 
 
 His little hoofs would rattle roimd 
 
 Upon the cottage floor ; 
 The matron learned to love the sound 
 
 That frightened her before. 
 
 A favorite the Ghost became, 
 
 And 't was his fate to thrive ; 
 And long he lived and spread his fame. 
 
 And kept the joke alive. 
 
 For many a laugh went through the vale. 
 
 And some conviction too : — 
 Each thought some other goblin tale, 
 
 Perhaps, was just as true. 
 
 BLOOMFIELD'S '* ROSY HANNAH." 
 
 A SPRING o'erhung with many a flower. 
 
 The gray sand dancing in its bed, 
 Embanked beneath a hawthorn bower. 
 
 Sent forth its waters near my head : 
 A rosy lass approached my view ; 
 
 I caught her blue eye's modest beam : 
 The stranger nodded * how d' ye do ! ' 
 
 And leaped across the infant stream. 
 The water heedless passed away : 
 
 With me her glowing image staid ; 
 I strove, from that auspicious day, 
 
 To meet and bless the lovely maid. 
 I met her where, beneath our feet. 
 
 Through downy moss, the wild thyme grew; 
 Nor moss elastic, flowers though sweet, 
 
 Matched Hannah's cheek of rosy hue. 
 
 I met her where the dark woods wave. 
 
 And shaded verdure skirts the plain ; 
 And when the pale moon, rising, gave 
 
 New glories to her cloudy train. 
 From her sweet cot upon the moor 
 
 Our plighted vows to Heaven are flown ; 
 Truth made me welcome at her door, 
 
 And Rosy Hannah is my own. 
 
Jiicr's plural llocins. 
 
 "GRONGAR inLL.' 
 
 Silent Nymph ! with curious eyo, 
 Who the purple evening Ho 
 On the mountain's lonely van, 
 Beyond the noise of busy man. 
 Painting fair the form of things. 
 While the yellow linnet sings, 
 Or the tuneful nightingale 
 Charms the forest with her tnle ; 
 Come, with all thy various hues. 
 Come, and aid thy sister JIuse ; 
 Now, while Phoebus, riding high, 
 Gives lustre to the land and sky, 
 Grongar Hill' invites my song. 
 Draw the landscape bright and strong ; 
 Grongar ! in whose mossy cells 
 Sweetly musing Quiet dwells ; 
 Grongar ! in whose silent shade. 
 For the modest muses made. 
 So oft I have, the evening still. 
 At the fountain of a rill, 
 Sat upon a flowery bed, 
 With my hand beneath my iicad ; 
 While strayed my eyes o'er Towy's 2 flooc 
 Over mead and over wood. 
 From house to house, from hill to hill. 
 Till Contemplation had her fill. 
 
 THE PROSPECT WIOESrSO wriH THE ASCENT. 
 
 About his checkered sides I wind. 
 And leave his brooks and meads behind. 
 And groves and grottos where I lay. 
 And vistos shooting beams of day. 
 Wide and wider spreads the vale. 
 As circles on a smooth canal : 
 The mountains round, — unhappy fate. 
 Sooner or later, of all height ! — 
 Withdraw their summits from the skies, 
 And lessen as the others rise. 
 Still the prospect wider spreads, 
 Adds a thousand woods and meads ; 
 Still it widens, widens still. 
 And sinks the newly-risen hill. 
 
 Now I gain the mountain's brow ; 
 What a landscape lies below ! 
 No clouds, no vapors intervene ; 
 But the gay, the open scene. 
 Does the face of nature show 
 
 In all the hues of heaven's bow ; 
 And, swelling to embrace the light, 
 Spreads around beneath the sight. 
 
 Old castles on the cliflij arise. 
 Proudly towering in the skies ; 
 Kushing from the woods, the spires 
 Seem from hence ascending fires : 
 Half his beams Apollo sheds 
 On the yellow mountain heads, 
 Gilds the fleeces of the flocks, 
 And glitters on the broken rooks. 
 
 Below me trees unnumbered rise, 
 Beautiful in various dyes : 
 The gloomy pine, the poplar blue. 
 The yellow beech, the sable 3*ew, 
 The slender fir that taper grows, 
 The stunly oak with broad-spread boughs 
 And beyond the purple grove. 
 Haunt of Phillis, queen of love ! 
 Gaudy as the opening dawn. 
 Lies a l<mg and level lawn, 
 On which a dark hill, steep and high,' 
 Holds and charms the wandering eye. 
 Deep are his feet in Towy's flood ; 
 His sides are clothed with waving wood ; 
 And ancient towers crown his brow. 
 That cast an awful look below ; 
 Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps. 
 And with her arms from falling keeps ; 
 So both a safety from the wind 
 On mutual dependence find. 
 
 'Tis now the raven's bleak abode, 
 'T is now the apartment of the toad ; 
 And there the fox securely feeds. 
 And there the poisonous adder breeds. 
 Concealed in ruins, moss, and weeds ; 
 While, ever and anon, there falls 
 Huge heaps of hoary, mouldered walls. 
 Yet Time has seen, that lifts the low, 
 And level lays the lofty brow, — 
 Has seen this broken pile complete, 
 Big with the vanity of state. 
 But transient is the smile of Fato ! 
 A little rule, a little sway, 
 A sunbeam in a winter's day. 
 Is all the proud and mighty have 
 Between the cradle and the grave. 
 
 And sec the rivers, how they run 
 Through woods and meads, in shade and s 
 1 Dlnevaur CasUe. 
 
76 
 
 KURAL POETRY. 
 
 Sometimes swift, sometimes slow, 
 Wave succeeding wave, tliey go 
 A various journey to tlie deep, 
 Lilie liuman life, to endless sleep ! 
 Thus is nature's vesture wrought. 
 To instruct our wandering thought ; 
 Thus she dresses green and gay, 
 To disperse our cares away. 
 
 Ever charming, ever new, 
 When win the landscape tire the view ? 
 The fountain's fall, the river's flow. 
 The woody valleys, warm and low ; 
 The windy summit, wild and high, 
 Roughly rushing on the sky ! 
 The pleasant seat, the ruined tower, 
 The naked rock, the shady bower ; 
 The town and village, dome and farm, 
 Each gives each a double charm. 
 As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm. 
 
 See on the mountain's southern side, 
 Where the prospect opens wide. 
 Where the evening gilds the tide 
 How close and small the hedges lie ! 
 What streaks of meadows crosi 
 A step, methinks, may pass the strei 
 So little distant dangers seem ; 
 So we mistake the future's face, 
 Eyed through Hope's deluding glass. 
 As yon summits soft and fair, 
 Clad in colors of the air, 
 Which, to those who journey near, 
 Barren, brown, and rough, appear ; 
 Still we tread the same coarse way ; 
 The present 's still a cloudy day. 
 
 eye! 
 
 D, WELL-TO.VKD LIFE. 
 
 may I with myself agree, 
 And never covet what I see 1 
 Content me with an humble shade, 
 Jly passions tamed, my wishes laid ; 
 For while our wishes wildly roll. 
 We banish quiet from the soul : 
 'T is thus the busy beat the air. 
 And misers gather wealth and care. 
 
 Now, ev'n now, my joys run high, 
 As on the mountain-tui-f I lie ; 
 While the wanton zephyr sings, 
 And in the vale perfumes his wings ; 
 While the waters murmur deep ; 
 While the shepherd charms his sheep ; 
 AVhile the birds unbounded fly. 
 And with music fill the sky ; 
 Now, ev'n now, my joys run high. 
 Be full, ye courts ! be great, who will ; 
 Search for Peace with all your skill ; 
 Open wide the lofty door, 
 
 Seek her on the marble floor : 
 
 In vain ye search, she is not there ; 
 
 In vain ye search the domes of Care ! 
 
 Grass and ffowors Quiet treads. 
 
 On the meads and mountain-heads, 
 
 Along with Pleasure close allied. 
 
 Ever by each other's side ; 
 
 And often, by the murmuring rill. 
 
 Hears the thrush, while all is still 
 
 Within the groves of Grongar Hill. 
 
 "COUNTRY WALK." 
 
 The morning 's fair ; the lusty sun 
 With ruddy cheek begins to run. 
 And early birds, that wing the skies, 
 Sweetly sing to see him rise. 
 
 I am resolved, this charming day, 
 In the open field to stray. 
 And have no roof above my head, 
 But that whereon the gods do tread. 
 Before the yellow barn I see 
 A beautiful variety 
 Of strutting cocks, advancing stout. 
 And flirting empty chatf about : 
 Hens, ducks, and geese, and all their brood, 
 And turkeys gobbling for their food. 
 While rustics thrash the wealthy floor, 
 And tempt them all to crowd the door. 
 
 What a fair face does Nature show ! 
 Augusta ! wipe thy dusty brow ; 
 A landscape wide salutes my sight 
 Of shady vales and mountains bright ; 
 And azure heavens I behold. 
 And clouds of silver and of gold. 
 And now into the fields I go. 
 Where thousand flaming flowers glow. 
 And every neighboring hedge I greet, 
 With honeysuckles smelling sweet. 
 Now o'er the daisy -meads I stray, 
 And iiiiri iiiih. ;is I pace my way, 
 
 Sim. 1 1\ -ii -: "11 the eye, 
 
 A mul.-i ,:;lhliii- Miioothly by. 
 Which sliuws with what an easy tide 
 The moments of the happy glide : 
 Here, finding pleasure after pain. 
 Sleeping, I see a wearied swain ; 
 While his full scrip lies open by, 
 That does his healthy food supply. 
 Happy swain ! sure happier far 
 Than lolty kings and princes are ! 
 Enjoy sweet sleep, which shuns the crown 
 With all its easy beds of down. 
 soon; shade; iiiitps. — sii-esce apostropoized. ■ 
 
 The sun now shows his noontide blaze, 
 And sheds around me burning rays. 
 
SPRING — APRIL. 
 
 77 
 
 A little ouward, and I go 
 luto the shade that groves bestow, 
 Aud on green moss I lay me down, 
 That o'er the root of oak has grown ; 
 Where all is silent, but some Hood, 
 That sweetly raurraui-s in the wood ; 
 But birds that warble in the sprays. 
 And oharm even Silence with their lays. 
 ! powerful Silence ! how you reign 
 In the poet's busy brain ! 
 His numerous thoughts obey the calls 
 Of the tuneful water-falls ; 
 Like moles, whene'er the coast is clear, 
 They rise before thoo without fear. 
 And range in parties hero and there. 
 
 Some wildly to Parnassus wing. 
 And view the fair Castalian spring. 
 Where they behold a lonely well 
 Where now no tuneful Muses dwell. 
 But now and then a slavish liiud 
 Paddling the troubled pool they find. 
 
 Some trace the pleasing paths of joy. 
 Others the blissful scene destroy ; 
 In thorny tracks of sorrow stray, 
 And pine for Clio far away. 
 But stay — methinks her lays I hoar. 
 So smooth ! so sweet ! so deep ! so clear ! 
 No, it is not her voice I find ; 
 'T is but the echo stays behind. 
 
 Some meditate Ambition's brow. 
 And the black gulf that gapes below ; 
 Some peep in courts, and there they see 
 The sneaking tribe of Flattery : 
 But, striking to the car and eye, 
 A nimble deer comes bounding by ! 
 When rushing from yon rustling spray 
 n made them vanish all away. 
 
 SCXSET ; BREATH OF UrENMSG ; THS OLD M.LS'S COT, 
 GARDEN, BllMlK, CABBAGES. 
 
 I rouse me up, and on I rove ; 
 'T is more than time to loavo the grove. 
 The sun declines, the evening breeze 
 Begins to whisper through the trees ; 
 And as I leave the sylvan gloom. 
 As to the glare of day I come. 
 An old man's'smoky nest I see 
 Leaning on an aged tree. 
 Whose willow walls, and furzy brow, 
 A little garden sway below : 
 Through spreading beds of blooming green. 
 Matted with herbage sweet and clean, 
 A vein of water limps along. 
 And makes them ever green and young. 
 Here he puffs upon his spade. 
 And digs up cabbage in the shade : 
 His tattered rags are sable brown. 
 His beard and hair are hoary grown ; 
 The dying sap descends apace. 
 And leaves a withered hand and face. 
 
 po9T*a auKST 
 
 Up Grongar Hill I labor now, 
 
 And catch at lost his bushy brow. 
 
 ! how fresh, how pure, the air ! 
 
 Lot mo breathe a little here. 
 
 Where am I, Nature ? I descry 
 
 Thy magazine before me lie. 
 
 Temples ! and towns ! and lowers ! and woods ! 
 
 And hills ! and vales ! and fields ! and floods ! 
 
 Crowding before me, edged around 
 
 With naked wilds and barren ground. 
 
 See, below, the pleasant dome. 
 The poet's pride, the poet's home. 
 Which tho sunbeams shine upon 
 To the even from the dawn. 
 Sec her woods, where echo talks. 
 Her giudous trim, her terrace walks, 
 Ilur wildernesses, fragrant brakes, 
 Hor gluDuiy bowers and shining lakes. 
 Keep, ye gods ! this humble seat 
 Forever plca.sant, private, neat. 
 
 Si'r \ 
 
 ,„,!,., 1., 11, u| 
 
 ■ising steer 
 
 Ali-i. 
 
 It ln,,k 
 
 
 vnd deep : 
 pyramid, 
 
 Bcni'iit 
 
 1 a verdant f.. 
 
 rest hid ; 
 
 On whi 
 
 ee high top th 
 
 ere rises gr 
 
 The mighty remnant 
 
 of a seat. 
 
 1 gree 
 
 •d br. 
 
 Frowns upon the vale below. 
 
 Look upon that flowery plain, 
 How the sheep surround their swain. 
 How they crowd to hear his strain ! 
 All careless with his legs across. 
 Leaning on a bank of moss. 
 He spends his empty hours at play. 
 Which fly as light as down away. 
 
 And there behold a bloomy mead, 
 A silver stream, a willow shade. 
 Beneath tho shade a fisher stand. 
 Who, with the angle in his hand. 
 Swings the nibbling fry to land. 
 
 as OHADES or KVESISO. — DSrOKED OXEX LOWISO. — 
 SHEPHERDS. — COTIiGE FIRES UOirTED. 
 
 In blushes the descending sun 
 Kisses the streams while slow they run ; 
 And yonder hill remoter grows, 
 Or dusky clouds do interpose. 
 Tho fields are left, the laboring hind 
 liis weary oxen does unbind ; 
 And vocal mountains, as they low, 
 Reecho to the vales below ; 
 Tho jocund shepherds piping oomo, 
 And drive the herd before them homo ; 
 And now begin to light their fires. 
 Which send up smoke in curling spires ; 
 While with light hearts all homeward tend. 
 To Abergasnoy' I descend. • • • 
 The name of a seat belonging to the author's brother. 
 
salms of |raist Ux g|iil 
 
 DIVINE SOVEREIGNTY.' 
 
 Quid pi-iu 
 Laudibus 
 Qui mare 
 
 Jehovah reigns ; let every nation hear, 
 And at liis footstool bow with holy fear ; 
 Let heaven's high arches echo with his name, 
 And the wide-peopled earth his praise proclaim ; 
 Then send it down to hell's deep glooms resounding, 
 Through all her caves in dreadful murmurs sounding. 
 
 He rules with wide and absolute command 
 O'er the broad ocean and the steadfast land : 
 Jehovah reigns, unbounded and alone, 
 And all creation hangs beneath his throne : 
 He reigns alone : let no inferior nature 
 Usurp or share the throne of the Creator. 
 
 He saw the struggling beams of infant light 
 Shoot through the massy gloom of ancient night; 
 His spirit hushed the elemental strife, 
 And brooded o'er the kindling seeds of life : 
 Seasons and months began the long procession. 
 And measured o'er the year in bright s 
 
 The joyful sun sprung up the ethereal way, 
 Strong as a giant, as a bridegroom gay ; 
 And the pale moon diffused her shadowy light 
 Superior o'er the dusky brow of night ; 
 Ten thousand glittering lamps the skies adorning. 
 Numerous as dew-drops from the womb of morning. 
 
 Earth's blooming face with rising flowers He 
 dressed. 
 
 And spread a verdant mantle o'er her breast; 
 
 Then from the hollow of his hand He pours 
 
 The circling waters round her winding shores, 
 The now-born world in their cool arms embracing. 
 And with soft murmurs still her banks caressing. 
 
 At length she rose complete in finished pride. 
 All fair and spotless, like a virgin bride : 
 Fresh with untarnished lustre as she stood. 
 Her Maker blessed his work, and called it good; 
 The morning stars, with joyful acclamation. 
 Exulting sung, and hailed the new creation. 
 
 Yet this fair world, the creature of a day, [away; 
 Though built by God's right hand, must pass 
 
 And long oblivion creep o'er mortal things, 
 The fate of empires, and the pride of kings : 
 Eternal night shall veil their proudest story, 
 And drop the curtain o'er all human glory. 
 
 The sun himself, with weary clouds oppressed. 
 Shall in his silent, dark pavilion rest ; 
 His golden urn shall broke and useless lie. 
 Amidst the common ruins of the sky ! 
 The stars rush headlong in the wild commotion, 
 And bathe their glittering foreheads in the ocean. 
 
 But fixed, God ! forever stands thy throne ; 
 
 Jehovah reigns, a universe alone ; 
 
 The eternal fire that feeds each vital flame. 
 
 Collected or diffused, is still the same. 
 He dwells within his own unfathomed essence. 
 And fills all space with his unbounded presence. 
 
 But, ! our highest notes the theme debase, 
 And silence is our least injurious praise : 
 Cease, cease your songs, the daring flight control, 
 Revere Him in the stillness of the soul ; 
 With silent duty meekly bend before Him, 
 And deep within your inmost hearts adore Him. 
 
 ADDISON'S "TWENTY-THIRD PSALM.' 
 
 PASTORAL ON 
 
 DIVINE PKOVIDENOE. 
 
 The Lord my pasture shall prepare, 
 And feed me with a shepherd's eare ; 
 His presence shall my wants supply. 
 And guard me with a watchful eye ; 
 My noon-day walks He shall attend, 
 And all my midnight hours defend. 
 
 When in the sultry glebe I faint. 
 Or on the thirsty mountain pant, 
 To fertile vales and dewy meads 
 My weary, wandering steps He leads, 
 Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow, 
 Amid the verdant landscape flow. 
 
 Though in the paths of death I tread. 
 With gloomy horrors overspread. 
 My steadfast heart shall fear no ill. 
 For Thou, Lord, art with me still ; 
 Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, 
 And guide me through the dreadful shade. 
 
SPRING-MAY. 
 
 (Toliijici-'s "6;irl) 
 
 en 
 
 
 Few lovers of llR-OiUiitr.v. My'tamc hare, (iccupalions 
 of a retired gentleman in Iiis parden. Pruning. Fram- 
 ing. Greenhouse. Sowing of flower-seeds. Tlie country 
 preferable to tiie town, even in winter. Reasons why it 
 is deserted at that season. Ruinous effects of --'-- 
 and of expensive improvement. Boole 
 apostrophe to the metropolis. 
 
 As ono, who long in thickets and in brakes 
 Kntangled, winds now this way and now that, 
 Ilis devious course unccrtivin, seeking homo ; 
 Or, having long in miry ways been foiled 
 And sore discomfited, from slough to slough 
 Plunging, and half-despairing of escape ; 
 If chance at length he finds a greensward smooth 
 And faithful to the foot, his spirits rise, 
 Ho chernipa brisk his ear-creoting steed. 
 And winds his way with pleasure and with case ; 
 So I, designing other themes, and called 
 
 To adorn the Sofa with eulogium due, 
 To tell its slumbers, and to paint its dreams, 
 Have rambled wide : in country, city, seat 
 Of academic fame (howc'cr <lescrvcd), 
 Long held, and scarcely disengaged at la^t. 
 But now with pleasant pace a cieanlier road 
 I mean to tread. I feel myself at large. 
 Courageous, and refreshed for future toil. 
 If toil await mo, or if dangers new. 
 
 THS TiSK OP REPROVISa FOLLT LITTLE BOPKFCL. 
 
 Since pulpits fail, and sounding-boards reflect 
 Most part an empty ineffectual sound, 
 M'hat chance that I, to fame so little known. 
 Nor conversant with men or manners much. 
 Should speak to purpose, or with better hope 
 Crack the satirio thong ? 'T were wiser far 
 For me, enamored of sequestered scenes 
 And charmed with rural beauty, to repose. 
 Where chance may throw mo beneath elm or vine 
 My languid limbs, when summer sears tho plains, 
 Or, when rough winter rages, on the soft 
 And sheltered Sofa, while the nitrous air 
 Feeds a blue flame, and makes a cheerful hearth ; 
 There, undisturbed by foily, and apprised 
 
80 
 
 RURAL POETRY. COWPER. 
 
 How great the danger of disturbing her, 
 To muse in silence, or at least con6nc 
 Remarks, that gall so many, to the few 
 My partners in retreat. Disgust concealed 
 Is ofttimes proof of wisdom, wlien the fault 
 Is obstinate, and cure beyond our reach. 
 
 DOUESTIO HAPPINESS DESCRIBED AND EULOGIZED. 
 
 Domestic happiness, thou only bliss 
 Of Paradise, that hast survived the fall ! 
 Though few now taste thee unimpaired and pure, 
 Or, tasting, long enjoy thee ! too infirm. 
 Or too incautious, to preserve thy sweets 
 Unmixed with drops of bitter, which neglect 
 Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup ; 
 Thou art the nurse of virtue ; in thine arms 
 She smiles, appearing, as in truth she is. 
 Heaven-born, and destined to the skies again. 
 Thou art not known where pleasure is adored, 
 That reeling goddess with the zoneless waist 
 And wandering eyes, still leaning on the arm 
 Of novelty, her fickle, frail support ; 
 For thou art meek and constant, hating change. 
 And finding, in the calm of truth-tried love, 
 Joys that her stormy raptures never yield. 
 
 Forsaking thee, what shipwreck have we made 
 Of honor, dignity, and fair renown ! 
 Till prostitution elbows us aside 
 In all our crowded streets ; and senates seem 
 Convened for purposes of empire less. 
 Than to release the adult'ress from her bond. 
 The adult'ress ! what a theme for angry verse ! 
 "What provocation to the indignant heart, 
 That feels for injured love ! but I disdain 
 The nauseous task to paint her as she is. 
 Cruel, abandoned, glorying in her shame ! 
 No : — let her pass, and charioted along. 
 In guilty splendor, shake the public ways ; 
 The frequency of crimes has washed them white ! 
 And verse of mine shall never brand the wretch, 
 AV^hom matrons now of character unsmirched. 
 And chaste themselves, are not ashamed to own. 
 
 Virtue and vice had bound'ries in old time. 
 Not to be passed : and she, that had renounced 
 Her sex's honor, was renounced herself 
 By all that prized it ; not for prudery's sake. 
 But dignity's, resentful of the wrong. 
 'T was hard perhaps on here and there a waif, 
 Desirous to return, and not received : 
 But 'twas a wholesome rigor in the main. 
 And taught the unblemished to preserve with care 
 That purity, whoso loss was loss of all. 
 Men too were nice in honor in those days, 
 And judged offenders well. Then he that sharped, 
 And pocketed a prize by fraud obtained. 
 Was marked and shunned as odious. He that sold 
 His country, or was slack when she required 
 
 His every nerve in action and at stretch. 
 Paid, -with the blood that he had basely spared, 
 The price of his default. 
 
 But now — yes, now 
 We are become so candid and so fair, 
 So liberal in construction, and so rich 
 In Christian charity (good-natured age !), 
 That they are safe, sinners of either sex, [bred. 
 Transgress what laws they may. Well dressed, well 
 Well equipaged, is ticket good enough 
 To pass us readily through every door. 
 Hypocrisy, detest her as we may 
 (And no man's hatred ever wronged her yet), 
 May claim this merit still — that she admits 
 The worth of what she mimics with such care, 
 And thus gives virtue indirect applause ; 
 But she has burnt her mask, not needed here, 
 Where vice has such allowance, that her shifts 
 And specious semblances have lost their use. 
 
 I was a stricken deer, that left the herd 
 Long since. With many an arrow deep infixed 
 My panting side was charged, when I withdrew 
 To seek a tranquil death in distant shades. 
 There was I found by One, who had Himself 
 Been hurt by the archers. In his side He bore, 
 And in his hands and feet, the cruel scars. 
 With gentle force soliciting the darts. 
 He drew them-forth, and healed, and bade me liv 
 Since then, with few associates, in remote 
 And silent woods I wander, far from those 
 My former partners of the peopled scene ; 
 With few associates, and not wishing more. 
 Here much I ruminate, as much I may. 
 With other views of men and manners now 
 Than once, and others of a life to come. 
 
 I see that all are wanderers, gone astray 
 Each in his own delusions ; they are lost 
 In chase of fancied happiness, still wooed 
 And never won. Dream after dream ensues ; 
 And still they dream that they shall still succeed. 
 And still are disappointed. Rings the world 
 With the vain stir. I sum up half mankind. 
 And add two thirds of the remaining half. 
 And find the total of their hopes and fears 
 Dreams, empty dreams. The million flit as gay. 
 As if created only like the fly. 
 That spreads his motley wings in the eye of noon. 
 To sport their season and be seen no more. 
 The rest are sober dreamers, grave and wise. 
 And pregnant with discoveries new and rare. 
 
 Some write a narrative of wars, and feats 
 Of heroes little known ; and call the rant 
 A history : describe the man, of whom 
 His own coevals took but little note. 
 
SPRING — MAY. 
 
 And paint his person, character, and views. 
 As they had known him from liis mother's womb. 
 They disentangle from the puzzled skein, 
 In which obscurity has wrapped them up, 
 The threads of politic and shrewd design. 
 That ran through all his purposes, and ohargo 
 Ilis mind with meanings that ho never had. 
 Or, having, kept concealed. 
 
 pmLosopmo spkculatiovs is geologt and cosuogokt 
 
 Some drill and boro 
 The solid earth, and from the strata there 
 Extract a register, by which we learn. 
 That He who made it, and revealed its date 
 To Jloses, was mistaken in its age. 
 Some, more acute, and moro industrious still. 
 Contrive creation ; travel nature up 
 To the sharp peak of her sublimest height. 
 And tell us whence the stars ; why some are fixed. 
 And planetary some ; what gave them first 
 Rotation, from what fountain flowed their light. 
 Great contest follows, and much learned dust 
 Involves the combatants ; each claiming truth, 
 And truth disclaiming both. 
 
 FOLUES OF THE ' LKARNED * ASJ) THE * SCIENTISTS.* 
 
 And thus they spend 
 The little wick of life's poor shallow lamp 
 In playing tricks with nature, giving laws 
 To distant worlds, and trifling in their own. 
 Is't not a pity now, that tickling rheums 
 Should ever tease the lungs and blear the sight 
 Of oracles like these ? Great pity, too. 
 That, having wielded the elements, and built 
 A thousand systems, each in his own way, 
 They should go out in fume, and be forgot ? 
 Ah, what is life thus spent? and what are they 
 But frantic, who thus spend it? all for smoke — 
 Eternity for bubbles proves at last 
 A senseless bargain. 
 
 THE DAY OF JUDGMEST. — BOOTLESS TOIL. 
 
 When I see such games. 
 Played by the creatures of a Power, who swears 
 That He will judge the earth, and call the fool 
 To a sharp reckoning, that has lived in vain ; 
 And when I weigh this seeming wisdom well, 
 And prove it in the infallible result 
 So hollow and so false — I feci my heart 
 Dissolve in pity, and account the learned. 
 If this be learning, most of all deceived. 
 Great crimes alarm the conscience, but it sleeps 
 While thoughtful man is plausibly amused. 
 Defend mo therefore, common sense, say I, 
 From reveries so airy, from the toil 
 Of dropping buckets into empty wells. 
 And growing old in drawing nothing up ! 
 
 SYMPATHY WITH ERRING HCMAXITY. 
 
 'Twere well, says one sage erudite, profound. 
 Terribly arched, and aquiline his nose, 
 
 And overbuilt with most impending brows, 
 
 'Twere well, could you permit the world to live 
 
 As the world pleases: what's the world to you? — 
 
 Much. I was born of woman, and drew milk 
 
 As sweet as charity from human breasts. 
 
 I think, articulate, I laugh, and weep, 
 
 And exercise alt functions of a man. 
 
 How then should I and any man that lives 
 
 Bo strangers to each other ? Pierce my vein. 
 
 Take of the crimson stream meandering there. 
 
 And catechise it well ; apply thy glass. 
 
 Search it, and prove now if it be not blood 
 
 Congenial with thine own : and, if it be, 
 
 M'hat edge of subtlety canst thou suppose 
 
 Keen enough, wise and skilful as thou art. 
 
 To cut the link of brotherhood, by which 
 
 One common Maker bound mo to the kind? 
 
 True ; I am no proficient, I confess, 
 
 In arts like yours. I cannot call the swift 
 
 And perilous lightnings from the angry clouds. 
 
 And bid them hide themselves in earth beneath ; 
 
 I cannot analyze the air, nor catch 
 
 The parallax of yonder luminous point. 
 
 That seems half quenched in the immense abyss : 
 
 Such powers I boast not — neither can I rest 
 
 A silent witness of the headlong rage. 
 
 Or heedless folly, by which thousands die. 
 
 Bone of my bone, and kindred oouls to mine. 
 
 LIMITS ABE SET TO HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. — CONCEIT OP 
 BLIND SCIENCE. 
 
 God never meant that man should scale the hoav- 
 By strides of human wisdom in His works, [ens, 
 Though wondrous : He commands us in his Word 
 To seek Him rather whore his mercy shines. 
 The mind, indeed, enlightened from above. 
 Views Him in all ; ascribes to the grand Cause 
 The grand effect ; acknowledges with joy 
 His manner, and with rapture tastes his stylo. 
 But never yet did philosophic tube. 
 That brings tho planets home into the eye 
 Of observation, and discovers, else 
 Not visible, his family of worlds. 
 Discover Him that rules them ; such a veil 
 Hangs over mortal eyes, blind from the birth. 
 And dark in things divine. Full often too 
 Our wayward intellect, tho more we learn 
 Of Nature, overlooks her Author more ; 
 From instrumental causes proud to draw 
 Conclusions retrograde, and mad mistake. 
 
 SCIENCE MCST BE RELICIOCS ■ 
 
 But if his Word once teach us, shoot a ray 
 Through all the heart's dark chambers, and reveal 
 Truths undiscerned but by that holy light. 
 Then all is plain. Philosophy, baptized 
 In tho pure fountain of eternal love. 
 Has eyes indeed ; and viewing all she sees 
 As meant to indicate a God to man, 
 Gives Wm his praise, and forfeits not her own. 
 Learning has borne such fruit in other days 
 
82 
 
 RURAL POETRY. COWPER. 
 
 On all her branches ; piety has found 
 
 Friends in the friends of science, and true prayer 
 
 Has flowed from lips wet with Castalian dews. 
 
 Such was thy wisdom, Newton, childlike sago ! 
 Sagacious reader of the works of God, 
 And in his Word sagacious. ,Snch too thine, 
 Milton, whose genius had angelic wings, 
 And fed on manna ! And such thine, in whom 
 Our British Themis gloried with just cause, 
 Immortal Hale ! for deep discernment praised, 
 And sound integrity, not more than famed 
 For sanctity of manners undefiled. 
 
 VIRTUE ALONE BLOOMS PERENNIALLY. 
 
 All flesh is grass, and all its glory fades 
 Like the fair flower dishevelled in the wind ; 
 Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dream. 
 The man we celebrate must find a tomb. 
 And we that worship him ignoble graves. 
 Nothing is proof against the general curse 
 Of vanity, that seizes all below. 
 The only amaranthine flower on earth 
 Is virtue ; the only lasting treasure, truth. 
 
 . — HUMiLrrv. 
 
 But what is truth ? 'T was Pilate's question put 
 To Truth itself, that deigned him no reply. 
 And wherefore ? will not God impart his light 
 To them that ask it ? — Freely — 't is his joy. 
 His glory, and his nature, to impart. 
 But to the proud, uncandid, insincere. 
 Or negligent inquirer, not a spark. 
 What 's that, which brings contempt upon a book, 
 And him who writes it, though the style be neat, 
 The method clear, and argument exact ? 
 That makes a minister in holy things 
 The joy of many, and the dread of more. 
 His name a theme for praise and for reproach ? — 
 That, while it gives us worth in God's account, 
 Depreciates and undoes us in our own ? 
 What pearl is it, that rich men cannot buy, 
 That learning is too proud to gather up ; 
 But which the poor, and the despised of all. 
 Seek and obtain, and often find unsought? 
 Tell me — and I will tell thee what is truth. 
 
 RCRAL, DOMESTIC LIFE. — ITS ADVANTAGES. 
 
 friendly to the best pursuits of man, 
 Friendly to thought, to virtue, and to peace, 
 Domestic life, in rural pleasure passed ! 
 Few know thy value, and few taste thy sweets ; 
 Though many boast thy favors, and affect 
 To understand and choose thee for their own. 
 But foolish man foregoes his proper bliss, 
 Even as his first progenitor, and quits. 
 Though placed in Paradise (for earth has still 
 Some traces of her youthful beauty left). 
 Substantial happiness for transient joy. 
 
 Scenes formed for contemplation, and to nurse 
 The growing seeds of wisdom ; that suggest. 
 By every pleasing image they present. 
 Reflections such as meliorate the heart. 
 Compose the passions, and exalt the mind ; 
 Scenes such as these 'tis his supreme delight 
 To fill with riot, and defile with blood. 
 Should some contagion, kind to the poor brutes 
 We persecute, annihilate the tribes. 
 That draw the sportsman over hill and dale. 
 Fearless, and rapt away from all his cares ; 
 Should never game-fowl hatch her eggs again. 
 Nor baited hook deceive the fish's eye ; 
 Could pageantry, and dance, and feast, and song. 
 Be quelled in all our summer-months' retreats ; 
 How many self-deluded nymphs and swains. 
 Who dream they have a taste for fields and groves 
 Would find them hideous nurseries of the spleen, 
 And crowd the roads, impatient for the town ! 
 
 They love the country, and none else, who seek 
 For their own sake its silence, and its shade. 
 Delights which who would leave, that has a heart 
 Susceptible of pity, or a mind 
 Cultured and capable of sober thought, 
 For all the savage din of the swift pack. 
 And clamors of the field ? Detested sport. 
 That owes its pleasures to another's pain ; 
 That feeds upon the sobs and dying shrieks 
 Of harmless nature, dumb, but yet endued 
 With eloquence, that agonies inspire. 
 Of silent tears and heart-distending sighs ? 
 Vain tears, alas ! and sighs, that never find 
 A corresponding tone in jovial souls ! 
 Well — one at least is safe. 
 
 One sheltered hare 
 Has never heard the sanguinary yell 
 Of cruel man, exulting in her woes. 
 Innocent partner of my peaceful home, 
 Whom ten long years' experience of my care 
 Has made at least familiar ; she has lost 
 Much of her vigilant instinctive dread, 
 Not needful here, beneath a roof like mine. 
 Yes — thou mayest eat thy bread, and lick the hand 
 That feeds thee ; thou mayest frolic on the floor 
 At evening, and at night retire secure 
 To thy straw couch, and slumber unalarmed ; 
 For I have gained thy confidence, have pledged 
 All that is human in me, to protect 
 Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love. 
 If I survive thee, I will dig thy grave ; 
 And, when I place thee in it, sighing say, 
 I knew at least one hare that had a friend.^ 
 
 Cowper tamed 8 
 
SPRING — MAT. 
 
 KMPLOTUSXTS OF . 
 
 How various his employments, whom the world 
 Culls idle ; and who justly in return 
 Esteems that busy world an idler too ! 
 Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen, 
 Delightful industry enjoyed at home. 
 And nature in her cultivated trim, 
 Dressed to his taste, inviting him abroad — 
 Can he want occupation, who hoa these ? 
 Will he be idle, who has much t' enjoy? 
 Me, therefore, studious of laborious ease, 
 Not slothful, happy to deceive the time, 
 Not waste it, and aware that human life 
 Is but a loan to be repaid with use. 
 When He shall call his debtors to account. 
 From whom are all our blessings, business finds 
 Even here : while sedulous I seek t' improve, 
 At least neglect not, or leave unemployed, 
 The mind Ho gave me ; driving it, though slack 
 Too oft, and much impeded in its work 
 By causes not to be divulged in vain. 
 To its just point — the service of mankind. 
 
 CTILrrY TO OTHBBS THB BEST AIM. 
 
 He, that attends to his interior self, 
 That has a heart, and keeps it ; has a mind 
 That hungers, and supplies it ; and who seeks 
 A social, not a dissipated life. 
 Has business ; feels himself engaged t' achieve 
 No unimportant, though a silent, task. 
 A life all turbulence and noise, may seem, 
 To him that leads it, wise, and to be praised ; 
 But wisdom is a pearl with most success 
 Sought in still water, and beneath clear skies. 
 Ho that is ever occupied in storms. 
 Or dives not for it, or brings up instead, 
 Vainly industrious, a disgraceful prize. 
 
 THE MOBSINO OF THE VIRTUOUS MAN OF LETSURB. 
 
 The morning finds the self-sequestered man 
 Fresh for his task, intend what task he may. 
 Whether inclement seasons recommend 
 His warm but simple home, where he enjoys 
 With her, who shares his pleasures and his heart. 
 Sweet converse, sipping calm the fragrant lymph, 
 Which neatly she prepares ; then to his book 
 Well chosen, and not sullenly perused 
 In selfish silence, but imparted oft, 
 As aught occurs, that she may smile to hear, 
 Or turn to nourishment, digested well. 
 
 Or if the garden, with its many cares. 
 All well repaid, demand him, he attends 
 The welcome call, conscious how much the hand 
 Of lubbard labor needs his watchful eye, 
 Oft loitering lazily, if not o'erseen. 
 Or misapplying his unskilful strength. 
 Nor does be govern only or direct, 
 But much performs himself. No works, indeed, 
 That ask robust, tough sinews, bred to toil. 
 
 Servile employ ; but such as may amuse. 
 Not tire, demanding rather skill than force. 
 
 I'rond of his well-spread walls, ho views his trees. 
 That meet (no barren interval between). 
 With pleasure more than ev'n their fruits afford ; 
 Which, save himself who trains them, none can feel. 
 These therefore are his own peculiar charge ; 
 No meaner hand may discipline the shoots, 
 None but his steel approach them. What is weak, 
 Distempered, or has lost prolific powers, 
 Impaired by age, his unrelenting hand 
 Dooms to the knife : nor does he spare the soft 
 And succulent, that feeds its giant growth 
 But barren, at th' expense of neighboring twigs 
 Less ostentatious, and yet studded thick 
 With hopeful gems. 
 
 The rest, no portion left 
 That may disgrace his art, or disappoint 
 Large expectation, he disposes neat 
 At measured distances, that air and sun. 
 Admitted freely, may aflford their aid. 
 And ventilate and warm the swelling buds. 
 Hence summer has her riches, autumn hence. 
 And hence even winter fills his withered hand 
 With blushing fruits, and plenty not his own. 
 
 Fair recompense of labor well bestowed. 
 And wise precaution ; which a clime so rudo 
 Makes needful still, whose spring is but the child 
 Of churlish winter, in her froward moods 
 Discovering much the temper of her sire. 
 For oft, as if in her the stream of mild 
 Maternal nature had reversed its course, 
 She brings her infants forth with many smiles ; 
 But, once delivered, kills them with a frown. 
 He therefore, timely warned, himself supplies 
 Her want of care, screening and keeping warm 
 The plenteous bloom, that no rough blast may sweep 
 His garlands from the boughs. Again, as oft 
 As the sun peeps, and vernal airs breathe mild. 
 The fence withdrawn, ho gives them every beam. 
 And spreads his hopes before the blaze of day. 
 
 To raise the prickly and green-coated gourd. 
 So grateful to the palate, and when rare 
 So coveted, else base and disesteemed — 
 Food for the vulgar merely — is an art 
 That toiling ages have but just matured, — 
 And at this moment unassaycd in song. 
 Yet gnats have had, and frogs and mice, long since, 
 Their eulogy : those sang the Mantuan bard, 
 And these the Grecian, in ennobling strains ; 
 And in thy numbers, Philips, shines for aye 
 The solitary shilling. Pardon, then, 
 To sage dispensers of poetio fame. 
 
RURAL POETRY. COWPER. 
 
 ■leaf 
 
 The ambition of one meaner far, whose powers. 
 Presuming an attempt not less sublime, 
 Pant for the praise of dressing to the taste 
 Of critic appetite, no sordid fare, 
 A cucumber, while costly yet and scarce. 
 
 THE HOT-BED FOR CUCUVBERS. — HOW MADE. 
 
 The stable yields a stercoraceous heap, 
 Impregnated with quick fermenting salts, 
 And potent to resist the freezing blast • 
 For, ere the beech and elm have cast t 
 Deciduous, when now November dark 
 Checks vegetation in the torpid plant 
 Exposed to his cold breath, the task begins. 
 Warily therefore, and with prudent heed. 
 He seeks a favored spot ; that where he builds 
 The agglomerated pile, his frame may front 
 The sun's meridian disk, and at the back 
 Enjoy close shelter, wall, or reeds, or hedge 
 Impervious to the wind. First he bids spread 
 Dry fern or littered hay, that may imbibe 
 Th' ascending damps ; then leisurely impose. 
 And lightly, shaking it with agile hand 
 From the full fork, the saturated straw. 
 What longest binds the closest forms secure 
 The shapely side, that as it rises takes. 
 By just degrees, an overhanging breadth. 
 Sheltering the base with its projected eaves ; 
 Th' uplifted frame, compact at every joint. 
 And overlaid with clear translucent glass. 
 He settles next upon the sloping mount, 
 Whose sharp declivity shoots off secure 
 From the dashed pane the deluge as it falls. 
 He shuts it close, and the first labor ends. 
 Thrice must the voluble and restless earth 
 Spin round upon her axle, ere the warmth. 
 Slow gathering in the midst, through the square 
 Diffused, attain the surface : when, behold ! [mass 
 A pestilent and most corrosive steam. 
 Like a gross fog Bceotian, rising fast. 
 And fast condensed upon the dewy sash, 
 Asks egress ; which obtained, the overcharged, 
 And drenched conservatory, breathes abroad. 
 In volumes wheeling slow, the vapor dank ; 
 And, purified, rejoices to have lost 
 Its foul inhabitant. But to assuage 
 The impatient fervor, which it first conceives 
 Within its reeking bosom, threatening death 
 To his young hopes, requires discreet delay. 
 Experience, slow preceptress, teaching oft 
 The way to glory by miscarriage foul. 
 Must prompt him, and admonish how to catch 
 The auspicious moment, when the tempered heat. 
 Friendly to vital motion, may afford 
 Soft fomentation, and invite the seed. 
 
 CCClJBIIlEn.6EED. 
 
 The seed, selected wisely, plump and smooth. 
 And glossy, he commits to pots of size 
 Diminutive, well filled with well-prepared 
 
 And fruitful soil, that has been treasured long, 
 
 And drank no moisture from the dripping clouds. 
 
 These on the warm and genial earth, that hides 
 
 The smoking manure,' and o'erspreads it all. 
 
 He places lightly, and, as time subdues 
 
 The rage of fermentation, plunges deep 
 
 In the soft medium, till they stand immersed. 
 
 Then rise the tender germs, upstarting quick. 
 
 And spreading wide their spongy lobes ; at first 
 
 Pale, wan, and livid ; but assuming soon. 
 
 If fanned by balmy and nutritious air. 
 
 Strained through the friendly mats, a vivid green. 
 
 THE CUCUMBER-PLANT ' ITS FLOWERS AND FERTILIZATION. 
 
 Two leaves produced, two rough indented leaves. 
 Cautious he pinches from the second stalk 
 A pimple, that portends a future sprout. 
 And interdicts its growth. Thence straight succeed 
 The branches, sturdy to his utmost wish ; 
 Prolific all, and harbingers of more. 
 The crowded roots demand enlargement now. 
 And transplantation in an ampler space. 
 Indulged in what they wish, they soon supply 
 Large foliage, o'ershadowing golden flowers. 
 Blown on the summit of th' apparent fruit. 
 These have their sexes ! and, when summer shinefi, 
 The bee transports the fertilizing meal 
 From flower to flower, and even the breathing air 
 Wafts the rich prize to its appointed use. 
 Not so when winter scowls. Assistant art 
 Then acts in nature's office, brings to pass 
 The glad espousals, and insures the crop. 
 
 COSTLINESS OF HOT-HOUSE CULTURE AND FRUITS. 
 
 Grudge not, ye rich (since luxury must have 
 His dainties, and the world's more numerous half 
 Lives by contriving delicates for you). 
 Grudge not the cost. Ye little know the cares, 
 The vigilance, the labor, and the skill, 
 That day and night are exercised, and hang 
 Upon the ticklish balance of suspense. 
 That ye may garnish your profuse regales 
 With summer fruits brought forth by wintry suns. 
 Ten thousand dangers lie in wait to thwart 
 The process. Heat and cold, and wind and steam. 
 Moisture and drought, mice, worms, and swarming 
 Minute as dust, and numberless, oft work [flies, 
 Dire disappointment, that admits no cure. 
 And which no care can obviate. It were long. 
 Too long, to tell the expedients and the shifts. 
 Which he that fights a season so severe 
 Devises, while ho guards his tender trust ; 
 And oft at last in vain. The learned and wise 
 Sarcastic would exclaim, and judge the song 
 Cold as Its theme, and like its theme the fruit 
 Of too much labor, worthless when produced. 
 
 THE GREEN-HOUSE. — HS PLANTS DESCRIBED. 
 
 Who loves a garden loves a green-house too. 
 Unconscious of a less propitious clime. 
 There blooms exotic beauty, warm and snug. 
 
SPRING — MAT. 
 
 85 
 
 While the winds whistle, and the snows descend. 
 
 The spiry myrtle with unwithcring leaf 
 
 Shines there, and flourishes. The golden boast 
 
 Of Portugal and western India there, 
 
 The ruddier orange, and the paler lime, 
 
 Peep through their polished folioge at the storm, 
 
 And seem to smile at what they need not fear. 
 
 The amomum there with intermingling flowers 
 
 And cherries hangs her twigs. Geranium boasts 
 
 Her crimsoi! honors ; and the spangled beau, 
 
 Ficoides, glitters bright the winter long. 
 
 All plants, of every leaf, that can endure 
 
 The winter's frown, if screened from his shrewd bite, 
 
 Live there, and prosper. Those Ausonia claims, 
 
 Levantine regions these ; the Azores send 
 
 Their jessamine, her jessamine remote 
 
 Caffraia : foreigners from many lands. 
 
 They form one social shade, as if convened 
 
 By magio summons of the Orphean lyre. 
 
 ARKASOEMEST OF EXOTICS IS THE GREES-UOCSE. 
 
 Yet just arrangement, rarely brought to pass 
 But by a master's hand, disposing well 
 The gay diversities of leaf and flower. 
 Must lend its aid to illustrate all their charms, 
 And dress the regular yet various scene. 
 Plant behind plant aspiring, in the van 
 The dwarfish ; in the rear retired, but still 
 Sublime above the rest, the statelier stand. 
 So once were ranged the sons of ancient Rome, 
 A noble show ! while Roscius trod the stage ; 
 And so, while Garrick, as renowned as he. 
 The sons of Albion ; fearing each to lose 
 Some note of Nature's music from his lips. 
 And covetous of Shakspeare's beauty, seen 
 In every flash of his far-beaming eye. 
 Nor taste alone and well-contrived display 
 Suffice to give the marshalled ranks the grace 
 Of their complete effect. 
 
 LABORIOUS CARES OF 
 
 Much yet remains 
 Unsung, and many cares are yet behind. 
 And more laborious ; cares on which depends 
 Their vigor, injured soon, not soon restored. 
 The soil must be renewed, which, often washed, 
 Loses its treasure of salubrious salts. 
 And disappoints the roots ; the slender roots 
 Close interwoven, where they meet the vase 
 Must smooth be shorn away ; the sapless branch 
 Must fly before the knife ; the withered leaf 
 Most bo detached, and where it strews the floor 
 Swept with a woman's neatness, breeding else 
 Contagion, and disseminating death. 
 Discharge but these kind offices, — and who 
 Would spare, that loves them, offices like those ? — 
 Well they reward the toil. The sight is pleased. 
 The scent regaled, each odorif *rous leaf. 
 Each opening blossom, freely breathes abroad 
 Its gratitude, and thanks him with its sweets. 
 
 So manifold, all plea-sing in their kind. 
 All healthful, are the employs of rural life. 
 Reiterated as the wheel of time 
 Runs round ; still ending, and beginning still. 
 Nor ore those all. To deck the shapely knoll, 
 That, softly swelled and gayly dressed, appears 
 A flowery island from the dark green lawn 
 Emerging, must be deemed a labor due 
 To no mean hand, and asks the touch of taste. 
 Hero also grateful mixture of well-matched 
 And sorted hues, each giving each relief. 
 And by contrasted beauty shining more — 
 Is needful. Strength may wield the ponderous spade 
 May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home ; 
 But elegance, chief grace the garden shows 
 And most attractive, is the fair result 
 Of thought, the creature of a polished mind. 
 
 Without it all is Gothic as the scene 
 To which the insipid citizen resorts. 
 Near yonder heath ; where industry misspent. 
 But proud of his uncouth, ill-chosen task. 
 Has mode a heaven on earth ; with suns and moons 
 Of close-rammed stones has charged the encumbered 
 And faiily laid the zodiac in the dust. [soil. 
 
 He, therefore, who would see his flowers disposed 
 Sightly and in just order, ere ho gives 
 The beds the trusted treasure of their seeds, 
 Forecasts the future whole j that when the scene 
 Shall break into its preconceived display, 
 Each for itself and all as with one voice 
 Conspiring, may attest his bright design. 
 Nor even then, dismissing as performed 
 His pleasant work, may he suppose it done. 
 
 Few self-supported flowers endure the wind 
 Uninjured, but expect the upholding aid 
 Of the smooth-shaven prop ; and, neatly tied. 
 Are wedded thus, like beauty to old age. 
 For interest sake, the living to the dead. 
 Some clothe the soil that feeds them, far diffused 
 And lowly creeping, modest and yet fair. 
 Like virtue, thriving most whore little seen : 
 Some, more aspiring, catch the neighbor shrub 
 With clasping tendrils, and invest his branch. 
 Else unadorned, with many a gay festoon 
 And fragrant chaplet, recompensing well 
 The strength they borrow with the grace they lend. 
 
 All hate the rank society of weeds. 
 Noisome, and ever greedy to exhaust 
 The impoverished earth ; an overbearing race. 
 That, like the multitude made faction mad, 
 Disturb good order, and degrade true worth. 
 
RURAL POETRY. COWPER. 
 
 0, blest seclusion from a jarring world, 
 MTiich he, thus occupied, enjoys ! Retreat 
 Cannot indeed to guilty man restore 
 Lost innocence, or cancel follies past ; 
 But it has peace, and much secures the mind 
 From all assaults of evil ; proving still 
 A faithful barrier, not o'erleoped with ease 
 By vicious custom, raging uncontrolled 
 Abroad, and desolating public life. 
 When fierce temptation, seconded within 
 By traitor appetite, and armed with darts 
 Tempered in hell, invades the throbbing breast. 
 To combat may be glorious, and success 
 Perhaps may crown us ; but to fly is safe. 
 Had I the choice of sublunary good, 
 What could I wish, that I possess not here? [peace, 
 Health, leisure, means to improve it, friendship. 
 No loose or wanton, though a wandering, muse. 
 And constant occupation without care. 
 
 DISSIPATED MINDS CANNOT ENJOY SECLUSION. 
 
 Thus blessed I draw a picture of that bliss ; 
 Hopeless, indeed, that dissipated minds. 
 And profligate abusers of a world 
 Created fair so much in vain for them. 
 Should seek the guiltless joys that I describe. 
 Allured by my report : but sure no less, 
 That sflf-condemned they must neglect the prize, 
 And what they will not taste must yet approve. 
 IVhat we admire we praise ; and, when we praise. 
 Advance it into notice, that, its worth 
 Acknowledged, others may admire it too. 
 I therefore recommend, though at the risk 
 Of popular disgust, yet boldly still, 
 The cause of piety and sacred truth, 
 And virtue, and those scenes, which God ordained 
 Should best secure them, and promote them most ; 
 Scenes that I love, and with regret perceive 
 Forsaken, or through folly not enjoyed. 
 
 ALL MAT SHARE IN NATCBe'S CHARMS. — VASHTL 
 
 Pure is the nymph, though liberal of her smiles, 
 And chaste, though unconfined, whom I extol. 
 Not as the prince in Shushan, when he called. 
 Vain-glorious of her charms, his Vashti forth. 
 To grace the full pavilion. His design 
 Was but to boast his own peculiar good, 
 Which all might view with envy, none partake. 
 My charmer is not mine alone ; my sweets. 
 And she that sweetens all my bitters too, 
 Nature, enchanting nature, in whose form 
 And lineaments divine I trace a hand 
 That errs not, and find raptures still renewed, 
 Is free to all men — universal prize. 
 
 Strange that so fair a creature should yet want 
 Admirers, and be destined to divide 
 With meaner objects e'en the few she finds ! 
 
 Stript of her ornaments, her leaves and flowers, 
 
 She loses all her influence. Cities then 
 
 Attract us, and neglected nature pines 
 
 Abandoned, as unworthy of our love. 
 
 But are not wholesome airs, though unperfumed 
 
 By roses ; and clear suns, though scarcely felt ; 
 
 And groves, if unharmonious, yet secure 
 
 From clamor, and whose very silence charms — 
 
 To be preferred to smoke, to the eclipse. 
 
 That metropolitan volcanoes make. 
 
 Whose Stygian throats breathe darkness all day long ; 
 
 And to the stir of commerce, driving slow. 
 
 And thundering loud, with his ten thousand wheels ? 
 
 ^ " [ A CAUSE AND AN EFFECT OF A DISTASTE 
 
 They would be, were not madness in the head, 
 And folly in the heart ; were England now. 
 What England was, plain, hospitable, kind. 
 And undebauched. But we have bid farewell 
 To all the virtues of those better days. 
 And all their honest pleasures. Mansions once 
 Knew their own masters ; and laborious hinds, 
 Who had survived the father, served the son. 
 Now the legitimate and rightful lord 
 Is but a transient guest, newly arrived. 
 As soon to be supplanted. 
 
 He, that saw 
 His patrimonial timber cast its leaf, 
 Sells the last scantling and transfers the price 
 To some shrewd sharper, ere it buds again. 
 Estates are landscapes, gazed upon a while. 
 Then advertised, and auctioneered away, [charged 
 The country starves, and they, that feed the o'er- 
 And surfeited, lewd town with her fair dues. 
 By a just judgment strip and starve themselves. 
 The wings, that waft our riches out of sight, 
 Grow on the gamester's elbows ; and the alert 
 And nimble motion of those restless joints. 
 That never tire, soon fans them all away. 
 
 FASHIONABLE COUNTRY PALACES.— ' MR. CAPABILITY BROWN.' 
 
 Improvement too, the idol of the age. 
 Is fed with many a victim. Lo, he comes ! 
 The omnipotent magician. Brown, appears ! 
 Down falls the venerable pile, the abode 
 Of our forefathers — a grave whiskered race. 
 But tasteless. Springs a palace in its stead. 
 But in a distant spot ; where more exposed 
 It may enjoy the advantage of the north, 
 And aguish east, till time shall have transformed 
 Those naked acres to a sheltering grove. — 
 He speaks. The lake in front becomes a lawn ; 
 Woods vanish, hills subside, and valleys rise ; 
 And streams, as if created for his use. 
 Pursue the track of his directing wand. 
 Sinuous or straight, now rapid and now slow. 
 Now murmuring soft, now roaring in cascades — 
 Even as he bids ! The enraptured owner smiles. 
 
BiSKRirrrcT TiiBOOon nnLOiso. 
 'Tis finished, and yet, finished as it seems. 
 Still wants a grace, the loveliest it could show, 
 A mind to satisfy the enormous cost. 
 Drained to the last poor item of his wealth, 
 lie sighs, depart"!, and leaves the accomplished plan, 
 'I'luit he has touched, retouched, many a long day 
 Liiburid, anil many a night pursued in dreams. 
 Just when it meets his hopes, and proves the heaven 
 Ho wanted, — for a wealthier to enjoy ! 
 
 THS RUINED BUILDER BECOMES TBE POLrriCAL PBOFLIOATB. 
 
 And now perhaps the glorious hour is come, 
 When, having no stake left, no pledge to endear 
 Her interest-s, or that gives her sacred cause 
 A moment's operation on his love, 
 lie burns with most intense and tiagrant zeal 
 To servo his country. Ministerial grace 
 
 ! chest ; 
 
 rthy 1 
 
 Deals him o 
 
 jt mnne 
 
 V from the 
 
 Or, if that I, 
 
 ill. 1.. 
 
 
 Suppli..lH- 
 To bo rfli.' 
 Well maii.i : 
 
 ';.;!::;, 
 
 }Ei. 
 
 coRRupnox. 
 
 innocent, compared with arts like those. 
 Crape, and cocked pistol, and the whistling ball 
 Sent through the traveller's temples ! He, that finds 
 One drop of Heaven's sweet mercy in his cup, 
 Can dig, beg, rot, and perish, well content. 
 So he may wrap himself in honest rags 
 At his last gasp ; but could not, for a world. 
 Fish up his dirty and dependent bread 
 From pools and ditches of the commonwealth. 
 Sordid and sickening at his own success. 
 
 WH.4T CAUSES PEOPLE LONDON ; A MORAL CESS-POOL. 
 
 Ambition, avarice, penury incurred 
 By endless riot, vanity, the lust 
 
 Of pleasure and variety, despatch, 
 
 As duly as the swallows disappear. 
 
 The world of wandering knights and squires to town. 
 
 Ixindon ingulfs them all ! The shark is there. 
 
 And the shark's prey; the spendthrift, and the leech 
 
 That sucks him : there the sycophant, and he 
 
 Who, with bareheaded and obsequious bows. 
 
 Begs a warm ofiice, doomed to a cold jail 
 
 And groat per diem, if his patron frown. 
 
 The I. \> i \iarTii-, ri= if in golden pomp 
 
 M'cr-' ' I I i: r\ rry statesman's door, 
 
 * Jlilt ' tnrtunes mtndcd hrre* 
 
 Thif. ill. iL' .'ijiiii- iluit sully and eclipse 
 
 The clmrms (.f onturo. 'T is the eruel gripe 
 
 That lean, hard-handed poverty inflicts. 
 
 The hope of better things, the chance to win, 
 
 The wish to shine, the thirst to be amused, 
 
 That at the sound of Winter's hoary wing 
 
 Unpeople all our counties of such herds 
 
 Of fluttering, loitering, cringing, begging, loose. 
 
 And wanton vagrants, as make London, vast 
 
 And boundless as it is, a crowded coop. 
 
 APOSTBOPire TO LOSDOS. 
 
 thou, resort and mart of all the earth ! 
 Checkered with all compleiions of mankind, 
 And spotted with all crimes ; in whom I see 
 Much that I love, and more that I admire, 
 And all that I abhor ; thou freckled fair, 
 That pleasest and yet shockest me, I can laugh, 
 And I can weep, can hope, and can despond. 
 Feel wrath, and pity, when I think on thee ! 
 Ten righteous would have saved a city once. 
 And thou hast many righteous. — Well for thee — 
 That salt preserves thee ; more corrupted else. 
 And therefore more obno.xious, at this hour. 
 Than Sodom, in her day, had power to be, 
 For whom God heard his Abraham plead in vain. 
 
 mW' m.^ ^ 
 
lastorals for Mn 
 
 AIKIN'S "WISH." 
 
 AN IDYL. 
 Though time has not sprinkled his frost on my head, 
 Yet some of its blossoming honors are shed ; 
 And I hope I remember, without being told. 
 If wo live long enough, that we all must grow old. 
 
 So let me set down in a humor for musing. 
 Since nothing is easier than wishing and choosing. 
 And gravely consider what life I 'd commence, 
 Should I reach to some fifteen or twenty years hence. 
 The young ones swarmed out, and all likely to thrive. 
 And something still left to maintain the old hive ; 
 I 'd retire with my dame to a vill of my own, 
 Where we 'd nestle together, like Darby and Joan. 
 On the slope of a hillock be placed my retreat. 
 With a wood at the back, and a stream at its feet ; 
 In front be a meadow, rich, verdant, and gay, 
 Where my horse and a cow may find pasture and hay. 
 
 A garden, be sure, I must not be without. 
 With walls or high hedges well fenced all about. 
 All blushing with fruit, and all fragrant with flowers. 
 With dry gravel-walks, and with sweet, shady bowers. 
 For my house, if 't is lightsome and roomy and warm, 
 Fit to take in a friend, and to keep out a storm, 
 I care not a straw whether brick, stone, or plaster ; 
 And if 't is old-fashioned, why, so is the master. 
 
 Of poultry and pigeons 't is needless to speak. 
 How my geese they shall cackle, my sucking-pigs 
 All this is essential to good country fare ; [squeak ; 
 And 't is not my intention to live upon air. 
 So much for externals ; — and now to myself, 
 A thing more important than dainties and pelf ; 
 For it signifies little how clever the plan. 
 If the source of enjoyment be not in the man. 
 
 Unambitious by nature, pacific and cool, 
 I have not many turbulent passions to rule, 
 And, when rightly matured by reflection and age, 
 I may put on the semblance, at least, of a sage. 
 But let me beware lest I sink, in the close. 
 Too soon in the arms of lethargic repose. 
 My heart void of feeling, of fancy my head. 
 And to each warm emotion as cold as the dead. 
 
 sweet sensibility ! soul of the soul ! 
 Ill purchased the wisdom that thee must control : 
 Of thy kindly spirit when once we 're bereft. 
 In life there is nothing worth living for left. 
 
 Then let it be ever the chief of my art 
 To foster a generous glow in my heart ; 
 Give way to efiusions of friendship and love, 
 And the palsy of age from my bosom remove. 
 
 My boys and their spouses, my girl and her mate, 
 Shall come when they please, and ne'er knock at the 
 
 gate ; 
 And at Christmas we '11 revel in mirth and good cheer, 
 Though we live poorer for it the rest of the year. 
 
 An old friend from the town shall sometimes take a 
 And spend the day with me in sociable talk ; [walk, 
 We '11 discuss knotty matters, compare what we 've 
 
 And, warmed with a bottle, move gayly to bed. 
 
 Wh 
 
 renings grow long, and we're gloomy at 
 
 To vary the scene, 'mongst my neighbors I'll roam; 
 See how the world passes, collect all the news. 
 And return with a load of new books and reviews. 
 
 In short, 't is the sum of my wish and desire. 
 That cheerfulness ever my breast should inspire ; 
 Let my purse become light, and my liquor run dry. 
 So my stock of good spirits hold out till I die. 
 
 nmg 
 
 ask in the finishing scene, 
 
 1 approving, a bosom serene, 
 To rise from life's banquet a satisfied guest. 
 Thank the Lord of the feast, and in hope go to rest. 
 
 MOSCHUS'S " CHOICE.' 
 
 AN IDYL. 
 
 TRAKSLATED BY J. 
 
 CHAPMAN, 
 
 When on the wave the breeze soft kisses flings, 
 I rouse my fearful heart, and long to be 
 Floating at leisure on the tranquil sea ; 
 
 But when the hoary ocean loudly rings. 
 
 Arches his foamy back, and spooming swings 
 Wave upon wave, his angry swell I flee : 
 Then welcome land and sylvan shad^ to me, 
 
 Where, if a gale blows, still the pine-tree sings. 
 
 Hard is his life whose nets the ocean sweep, 
 A bark his house, shy fish his slippery prey ; 
 
 But sweet to me the unsuspicious sleep 
 
 Beneath a leafy palm, — the fountain's play, 
 
 That babbles idly, or whoso tones, if deep, 
 Delight the rural ear, and not affray. 
 
0111 nil i((c's 
 
 "l\\in) fvimcs. 
 
 nOBBENOL, OR RURAL GAMES. 
 
 Proposition. Invocation to Mr. John Philips, author of the 
 'Cirler' poem. Description of ttie vale of Evesham. 
 The seat of Hohliinol. Hobbinol, n great man in his vil- 
 
 one only son. Young Hobbinors education ; bred up 
 with (ianderetta, his ne.ir relation. Vourm Hobbinol and 
 Ganderetta chosen Kill- ii.!'*) i, rMiy. Her ilresa 
 and attendanU. Tli.- M I- ^m -clillo, the tid- 
 
 dlnary performance, i- ; > m the llik'h- 
 
 lands. Milonides, nia-i' 1 : '. i i- h . iplines tlie mol) ; 
 he proclaims the several prizes, iiis speech. Pastorel 
 takes up the belt. Ilis cliaracter, heroic tlKure, and con- 
 fidence. Hobbinol, by permission of Ganderetta, accepts 
 the challenge, and vaulta into the ring. His honorable 
 behavior. Escapes a scowerinp. Gunderetta's agony. 
 Pastorel foil " 
 
 Wn.\T old Menalcas at his feast revealed 
 I sing, strange feats of ancient prowess,- deeds 
 Of high renown, — while all his listening guests 
 With eager joy received the pleasing tale. 
 
 thou ! 2 who late on Vaga's fiowery banks 
 Slumbering secure, with stirom » well bedewed. 
 Fallacious cask, in sacred dreams wert taught 
 By ancient seers and Merlin, prophet old. 
 To raise ignoble themes with strains sublime, — 
 Be thou my guide ; while I thy track pursue 
 With wing unequal, through the wide expanse 
 i range, and emulate thy flights. 
 
 In that rich vale,^ where with Dobunian fields,^ 
 Cornavian « borders meet, far-famed of old 
 For Montfort's ^ hapless fate, undaunted earl ; 
 AVhero from her fruitful urn Avona s pours 
 Uer kindly torrent on the thirsty glebe. 
 And pillages the hills to enrich the plains ; 
 
 1 This poem is intended, says the antlmr, in lii- pn far 
 
 'as a satire against the lu.xury. j '" ' ' 
 
 quarrelsome temper, of the middliriL- - 
 
 thought immoral, are ii. 
 
 2 Mr. John Philips 
 
 * The vale of Evesh 
 
 On whoso luxuriant banks flowers of all hues 
 Start up .spontaneous, and the teeming soil 
 With hasty shoots prevents its owner's prayer : 
 The pampered wanton steer, of the sharp axe 
 Regardless, that o'er his devoted head 
 lianas menacing, crops his delicious bane, 
 Nor knows the price is life ; with envious eyo 
 His laboring yoke-fellow beholds his plight. 
 And deems him blest, while on his languid nook, 
 In solemn sloth, ho tugs the lingering plough. 
 So blind are mortals, of each other's state 
 Misjudging, self-deceived. 
 
 SQmRB HOBDIXOL. 
 
 Here, as supremo, 
 Stem Hobbinol in rural plenty reigns 
 O'er wide-extended fields, his large domain. 
 The obsequious villagers [him mark] submiss, 
 Observant of his eye, or when with seed 
 To impregnate earth's fat womb, or when to bring 
 With clam'rous joy the bearded harvest home. 
 
 Here, when the distant sun lengthens the nights, 
 When the keen frosts the shivering farmer warn 
 To broach his mellow cask, and frequent blasts 
 Instruct the crackling billets how to blaze, — 
 In his warm wicker-chair, whose pliant twigs 
 In close-embraces joined, with spacious arch 
 Vault this thick-woven roof, tho bloated churl 
 Loiters in state ; each arm reclined is propped 
 With yielding pillows of the softest down. 
 In mind composed, from short coeval tube 
 He sucks the vapors bland ; thick curling clouds 
 Of smoke around his reeking temples play ; 
 Joyous he sits, and impotent of thought 
 Puffs away care and sorrow from his heart. 
 How vain tho pomp of kings ! look down, ye groat, 
 And view with envious eye the downy nest. 
 Where soft repose and calm contentment dwell, 
 Uubribed by wealth and unrestrained by power. 
 
 One son alone had blest his bridal bed. 
 Whom good Calista bore ; nor long survived 
 To share a mother's joys, but left the babo 
 To his paternal care. An orphan niece, 
 Near the same time, his dying brother sent 
 To claim his kind support. Tho helpless pair 
 In the same cradle slept, nursed up with caro 
 By tho same tender hand, on tho same breasts 
 Alternate himg with joy ; till reason downed, 
 And a now light broke out by slow degrees. 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 ■ SOMERVILLE. 
 
 CHILDHOOD AND fATHEIiHOOD. 
 
 Then on the floor the pretty wantons played, 
 Gladding the farmer's heart with growing hopes 
 And pleasures erst unfelt. Whene'er with cares 
 Oppressed, when wearied, or alono ho dozed. 
 Their harmless prattle soothed his troubled soul. 
 Say, Hobbinol, what ecstasies of joy 
 Thrilled through thy veins, when, climbing for a kiss, 
 With little palms they stroked thy grisly beard. 
 Or round thy wicker whirled their rattling cars ! 
 
 Thus from their earliest days bred up, and trained 
 To mutual fondness, with their stature grew 
 The thriving passion. What love can decay 
 That roots so deep ! Now ripening manhood curled 
 On the gay stripling's chin : her panting breasts. 
 And trembling blushes glowing on her cheeks. 
 Her secret wish betrayed. She at each mart 
 All eyes attracted ; but her faithful shade. 
 Young Hobbinol, ne'er wandered from her side. 
 A frown from him dashed every rival's hopes. 
 For he, like Peleus' son, was prone to rage, 
 Inexorable, swift like him of foot, 
 With ease could overtake his dastard foe, 
 Nor spared the suppliant wretch. 
 
 And now approached 
 Those merry days, when all the nymphs and swains, 
 In solemn festivals and rural sports. 
 Pay their glad homage to the blooming Spring. 
 Young Hobbinol by joint consent is raised 
 To imperial dignity, and in his hand 
 Bright Ganderetta tripped the jovial queen 
 Of Maia's gaudy month, profuse of flowers. 
 
 THE QUEEN OF THE MAY. 
 
 From each enamelled mead, the attendant nymphs 
 Loaded with odorous spoils, from these select 
 Each flower of gorgeous dye, and garlands weave 
 Of parti-colored sweets ; each busy hand 
 Adorns the jocund queen : in her loose hair, 
 That to the winds in wanton ringlets plays. 
 The tufted cowslips breathe their faint perfumes. 
 On, her refulgent brow, as crystal clear. 
 As Parian marble smooth, Narcissus hangs 
 His drooping head, and views his image there — 
 Unhappy flower ! Pansies of various hue. 
 Iris, and hyacinth, and asphodel. 
 To deck the nymph their richest liveries wear, 
 And lavish all their pride. Not Flora's self 
 More lovely smiles, when to the dawning year 
 Her opening bosom heavenly fragrance breathes. 
 
 THE GATBEBING UPON THE LAWN ; INKANCr AND AGE ; 
 
 See on yon verdant lawn the gathering crowd 
 Thickens amain ; the buxom nymphs advance 
 Ushered by jolly clowns : distinctions cease, 
 Lost in the common joy, and the bold slave 
 
 Leans on his wealthy master unreproved : 
 The sick no pains can feel, no wants the poor. 
 Round his fond mother's neck the smiling babe 
 Exulting clings ; hard, by, decrepid age. 
 Propped on his staEf, with anxious thought resolves 
 His pleasures past, and oasts his grave remarks 
 Among the heedless throng. The vigorous youth 
 Strips for the combat, hopeful to subdue 
 The fair one's long disdain ; by valor now 
 Glad to convince her coy, erroneous heart. 
 And prove his merit equal to her charms. 
 Soft pity pleads his cause ; blushing she views 
 His brawny limbs, and his undaunted eye, 
 That looks a proud defiance on his foes. 
 Resolved and obstinately firm he stands ; 
 Danger nor death he fears, while the rich prize 
 Is victory and love. 
 
 THE FIDDLER A WARWORN SOLDIER. 
 
 On the large bough 
 Of a thick-spreading elm Twangdillo sits : 
 One leg on Ister's banks the hardy swain 
 Left, undismayed ; Bellona's lightning scorched 
 His manly visage, but in pity left 
 One eye secure. He many a painful bruise 
 Intrepid felt, and many a gaping wound, 
 For brown Kate's sake, and for his country's weal : 
 Yet still the merry bard without regret 
 Bears his own ills ; and with his sounding shell. 
 And comic phiz, relievos his drooping friends. 
 Hark, from aloft his tortured catgut squeals, 
 He tickles every string, to every note 
 He bends his pliant neck, his single eye 
 Twinkles with joy, his active stump beats time : 
 Let but this subtle artist softly touch 
 The trembling chords, the faint, expiring swain 
 Trembles no less, and the fond, yielding maid 
 Is tweedled into love. 
 
 THE MAT-DAY DANCE. —ORPHEUS. 
 
 See with what pomp 
 The gaudy bands advance in trim array ! 
 Love beats in every vein, from every eye 
 Darts his contagious flames. They frisk, they bound ; 
 Now to brisk airs, and to the speaking strings 
 Attentive, in mid way the sexes meet ; 
 Joyous their adverse fronts they close, and press 
 To strict embrace, as resolute to force 
 And storm a passage to each other's heart : 
 Till by the varying notes forewarned, they back 
 Recoil disparted : each with longing eyes 
 Pursues his mate retiring, till again 
 The blended sexes mix ; then hand in hand 
 Fast locked, arouftd they fly, or nimbly wheel 
 In mazes intricate. The jocund troop, 
 Pleased with their grateful toil, incessant shako 
 Their uncouth, brawny limbs, and knock their heels 
 Sonorous ; down each brow the trickling balm 
 In torrents flows, exhaling sweets refresh 
 The gazing crowd, and heavenly fragrance fills 
 The circuit wide. So danced in days of yore. 
 
SPRING — MAY. 
 
 When Orphous played a lesson to the brutes, 
 The IL-itcning savages; the speckled pard 
 Dandled the kid, and with the bounding roe 
 The lion gambolled. 
 
 But what heavenly muso 
 With equal lays shall Gandurotto sing. 
 When, goddess-liko, she skims the verdant plain, 
 Gracefully gliding? every ravished eye 
 The nymph attracts, and every heart she wounds, — 
 Thoo most, transported Hobbinol ! Lo, now. 
 Now to thy opening arms she scuds along, 
 With yielding blushes glowing on hor cheeks. 
 And eyes that sweetly languish ; but too soon, 
 Too soon, alas ! she flies thy vain embrace. 
 But flics to bo pursued ; nimbly she trips, 
 And darts a glance so tender as she turns. 
 That, with new hopes relieved, thy joys revive. 
 Thy stature 's raised, and thou art more than man ! 
 Thy stately port, and more majestic oir. 
 And every sprightly motion speaks thy love. 
 
 THE GAMES. — THE DJ0PIPE3. — THE MASTER OF THE lUXO. 
 
 To the loud bagpipe's solemn voice attend, 
 Whose rising winds proclaim a storm is nigh. 
 Harmonious blasts ! that warm the frozen blood 
 Of Caledonia's sons to love or war. 
 And cheer their drooping hearts, robbed of tho sun's 
 Enlivening ray, that o'er the snowy Alps 
 Reluctant peeps, and speeds to better climes. 
 
 Forthwith, in hoary majesty appears 
 One of gigantic size, but visage wan, 
 Milonides the strong, renowned of old 
 For feats of arms, but bending now with years. 
 His trunk unwieldy from the verdant turf 
 Ho rears deliberate, and with his plant 
 Of toughest, virgin oak, in rising aids 
 His trembling limbs ; his bald and wrinkled front, 
 
 V- •'-■■'-] I I i' • i-, .■■ I ■•, ■' ]. I !iii|fd strokes 
 
 •^'■"-I'^'i- !'"■ "'""'i. -"'I ' - 'I n.-lewide. 
 
 .Stern iiibitor ! like sumu huge rock ho stands. 
 That breaks the incumbent waves ; they thronging 
 
 In troops confused, and rear their foaming heads 
 Each above each, but from superior force 
 Shrinking repelled, compose of stateliest view 
 A liquid theatre. 
 
 THE PRIZES PROCLAIMED BY MILOSIDES. 
 
 With hands uplift 
 And voice stentorian, he proclaims aloud 
 Each rural prize. ' To him whose active foot 
 Foils his bold foe, and rivets him to earth, 
 This pair of gloves, by curious virgin hands [gold. 
 Embroidered, seamed with silk, and fringed with 
 To him, who best tho stubborn hilts can wield. 
 And bloody marks of his displeasure leave 
 
 On his opponent's head, this beaver white, 
 With silver edging graced and scarlet plume. 
 Ye taper maidens ! whoso impetuous speed 
 Outflies the roe, nor bends tho tender grass, 
 See here this prize, this rich-laced smuck behold. 
 White as your bosoms, as your kisses soft. [gra 
 Blest nymph ! whom bounteous [Fate's) peeulii 
 Allots this pompous vest, and worthy deems 
 To win a virgin and to wear a bride.' 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN CHAMPION, PASTORBL. 
 
 The gifts refulgent dazzle all the crowd. 
 In speechless admiration fixed, unmoved ; 
 E'en ho who now each glorious palm displays 
 In sullen silence views his battered limbs, 
 And sighs his vigor spent. Not so appalled 
 Young I'astorel, for active strength renowned : 
 Him Ida bore, a mountain shepherdess ; 
 On the bleak wold tho new-born infant lay 
 Exposed to winter snows and northern blasts 
 Severe. As heroes old, who from great Jove 
 Derive their proud descent, so might ho boast 
 His line paternal : but bo thou, my muse ! 
 No leaky blab, nor painful umbrage give 
 To wealthy squire, or doughty knight, or peer 
 Of high degree. Him every shouting ring 
 In triumph croivned, him every champion feared 
 From Kiftsgate to remotest Henbury.' 
 High in tho midst tho brawny wrestler stands, 
 A stately-towering object ; the tough belt 
 Measures his ample breast, and shades around 
 His shoulders broad ; proudly secure he kens 
 Tho tempting prize, in bis presumptuous thought 
 Already gained ; with partial look the crowd 
 Approve his claim. 
 
 But Hobbinol, enraged. 
 To see tho important gifts so cheaply won. 
 And uncontested honors tamely lost, 
 With lowly reverence thus accosts his queen. 
 ' Fair goddess ! be propitious to my vows, 
 Smile on thy slave, nor Hercules himself 
 Shall rob us of this palm ; that boaster vain 
 Far other port shall learn.' She, with a look 
 That pierced his inmost soul, smiling, applauds 
 His generous ardor, with aspiring hope 
 Distends his breast, and stirs tho man within : 
 Yet much, alas ! she fears, for much she loves. 
 So from her arms tho Paphian queen dismissed 
 The warrior god, on glorious slaughter bent. 
 Provoked his rogo, and with her eye inflamed 
 Her haughty paramour. Swift as the winds 
 Dispel tho fleeting mists, at once he strips 
 His royal robes ; and with a frown that chilled 
 Tho blood of tho proud youth, active ho bounds 
 High o'er the heads of multitudes reclined : 
 But, OS beseemed one, whose plain honest heart, 
 
 ■Thet 
 
 1 of two hundreds In Olouccslershire. 
 
92 
 
 RURAL POETKT. SOMERVILLE. 
 
 Nor passion foul, nor malice dark as hell, 
 But honor pure and love['s fond flame] had fired, 
 His hand presenting, on his sturdy foe 
 Disdainfully he smiles ; 
 
 Then, quick as thought. 
 With his left hand the belt, and with his right 
 His shoulder seized, fast griping ; his right foot 
 
 essayed 
 The champion's strength ; but firm he stood, 
 Fixed as a mountain ash, and in his turn 
 Repaid the bold affront ; his horny fist 
 Fast on his back he closed, and shook in air 
 The cumb'rous load. Nor rest nor pause allowed, 
 Their watchful eyes instruct their busy feet ; 
 They pant, they heave ; each nerve, each sinew 
 
 strained. 
 Grasping they close, beneath each painful gripe 
 The livid tumors rise, in briny streams 
 The sweat distils, and from their battered shins 
 The clotted gore distains the beaten ground. 
 Each swain his wish, each trembling nymph conceals 
 Her secret dread ; while every panting breast 
 Alternate fears and hopes depress or raise. 
 
 J OF THE WRESTLIN 
 
 KOPE-DANCER. 
 
 Thus long in dubious scale the contest hung, 
 Till Pastorel, impatient of delay. 
 Collecting all his force, a furious stroke 
 At his left ankle aimed ; 'twas death to fall, 
 To stand impossible. 0, Ganderetta ! 
 What horrors seize thy soul ! On thy pale cheeks 
 The roses fade. But wavering long in air, 
 Nor firm on foot, nor as yet wholly fallen. 
 On his right knee he slipped, and nimbly scaped 
 The foul disgrace. Thus on the slackened rope 
 The wingy-footed artist, frail support ! 
 Stands tottering; now, in dreadful shrieks, the crowd 
 Lament his fate, and yield him lost : 
 He on his hams, or on his brawny rump, 
 Sliding secure, derides their vain distress. 
 
 Up starts the vigorous Hobbinol undismayed. 
 From mother earth, like old Anteus, raised 
 With might redoubled. Clamor and applause 
 Shake all the neighboring hills ; Avona's banks 
 Return him loud acclaim : with ardent eyes. 
 Fierce as a tiger rushing from his lair. 
 He grasped the wrist of his insulting foe. 
 Then with quick wheel oblique his shoulder point 
 Beneath his breast he fixed, and whirled aloft 
 High o'er his head the sprawling youth he flung : 
 The hollow ground rebellowed as he fell. 
 The crowd press forward with tumultuous din ; 
 Those to relieve their faint, expiring friend, 
 With gratulations these. Hands, tongues, and caps. 
 Outrageous joy proclaim, shrill fiddles squeak, 
 Hoarse bag-pipes roar, and Ganderetta smiles. 
 
 The fray. Tonsorio, Colip, Hildebrand, Cuddy, Cinda- 
 raxa, Talgol, Avaro, Cabljin, Collakin, Mundungo. Sir 
 Rhadamanth, the justice, attended with his guards, comes 
 to quell the fray. Rhadamauth's speech ; tumult ap- 
 peased. Gorgonias, the butcher, takes up the hilts ; his 
 character. The Kiftsgatians' coDsternation ; they look 
 wistfully on Hobbinol ; his speech. The cudgel-playing. 
 Gorgonius knocked down ; falls upon Twangdillo •, the 
 fiddler's distress j his lamentation over his broken fiddle. 
 
 Long while an universal hubbub loud. 
 Deafening each ear, had drowned each accent mild ; 
 Till biting taunts, and harsh, opprobrious words 
 Vile utterance found. How weak are human minds! 
 How impotent to stem the swelling tide, 
 And without insolence enjoy success ! 
 The vale-inhabitants, proud, and elate 
 With victory, know no restraint, but give 
 A loose to joy. Their champion, Hobbinol, 
 Vaunting they raise above that earth-born race 
 Of giants old, who, piling hills on hills, 
 Pelion on Ossa, with rebellious aim 
 Made war on Jove. The sturdy mountaineers. 
 Who saw their mightiest fallen, and in his fall 
 Their honors past impaired, their trophies, won 
 By their proud fathers, who with scorn looked down 
 Upon the subject vale, sullied, despoiled. 
 And levelled with the dust, — no longer bear 
 The keen reproach. 
 
 But as when sudden fire 
 Seizes the ripened grain, whose bending ears 
 Invite the reaper's hand, the furious god 
 In sooty triumph dreadful rides, upborno 
 On wings of wind, that with destructive breath 
 Feed the fierce flames ; from ridge to ridge he bounds 
 Wide wasting, and pernicious ruin spreads : 
 So through the crowd from breast to breast swift flew 
 The propagated rage ; loud, volleyed oaths, 
 Like thunder bursting from a cloud, gave signs 
 Of wrath awaked. Prompt fury soon supplied 
 With arms uncouth ; and tough, well-seasoned plants 
 Weighty with lead infused, on either host 
 Fall thick and heavy ; stools in pieces rent. 
 And chairs, and forms, and battered bowls, are hurled 
 With fell intent ; like bombs the bottles fly 
 Hissing in air, their sharp-edged fragments drenched 
 In the warm spouting gore ; heaps driven on heaps 
 Promiscuous lie. 
 
 COUN. 
 
 Tonsorio now advanced 
 On the rough edge of battle : his broad front 
 Beneath his shining helm secure, as erst 
 Was thine, Mambrino, stout Iberian knight ! — 
 Defied the rattling storm, that on his head 
 Fell innocent. A table's ragged frame 
 In his right hand he bore, Herculean club ! 
 Crowds, pushed on crowds, before his potent arm, 
 Fled ignominious ; havoc and dismay 
 
SPRING — MAY. 
 
 Hung on their rear. Colin, a morry swain 
 Clitlio as tbo soaring larli, — as sweet tlio strains 
 Of his soft warbling lips, that whistling chcor 
 His laboring team, who toss thoir heads well pleased. 
 In gaudy plumage decked, — with stern disdain 
 Behold this victor proud j his generous soul 
 Brooked not tho foul disgrace. Uigh o'er his head 
 His ponderous ploughstaff iu both hands ho raised ; 
 Erect ho stood, and stretching every nerve, 
 As from a forceful engine, down it fell 
 Upon his hollowed holm, that yielding sunk 
 Beneath tho blow, and with its sharpened edge 
 Sheared both his cars, they on his shoulders broad 
 Hung ragged. Quick as thought, tho vigorous youth 
 Shortening his staBf, tho other end he darts 
 Into his gaping jaws. Tonsorio fled 
 Sore maimed ; with pounded teeth and clotted gore 
 Half-choked, ho fled ; with him tho host retired, 
 Companions of his shame ; all but the stout. 
 And erst unconquered Uildebrand, brave man ! 
 
 eB HILL-CHAMPIOX, MAKES BAVOC ; rXDBR- 
 
 Bold champion of the liilN ' tliy wci^-hty blows 
 Our fathers felt dismiiyr.l ; i-. l,r. |, tli\ pn^t 
 Unmoved, whilom thy \;il' i - < h-i' ■■. ii"w .<ad 
 Necessity compels ; deri(]at n^w with iigu 
 And stiff with honorable wuumi.'j, 
 He stands unterrified : one crutch sustains 
 His frame majestic, the other in his hand 
 Ho wields tremendous ; like a mountain boar 
 In toils enclosed, ho dares his circling foes. 
 They shrink aloof, or soon with shame repent 
 The rash assault ; the rustic heroes fall 
 In heaps around. Cuddy, a dexterous youth. 
 When force was vain, on fraudful art relied : 
 Close to the ground low-cowering, unperocivcd. 
 Cautious he crept, and with his crooked bill 
 Cut sheer tho frail support, prop of his age : 
 Reeling a while he stood, and menaced fierce 
 Tho insidious swain ; reluctant now at length 
 Fell prone, and ploughed tho dust. So the tall oak, 
 Old monarch of the groves, that long had stood 
 The shock of warring winds, and tho red bolts 
 Of angry Jove, — shorn of his leafy shade 
 At last, and inwardly decayed, if chance 
 Tho cruel woodman spy tho friendly spur. 
 His only hold — that severed, soon ho nods, 
 And shakos tho incumbered mountain as he falls. 
 
 When manly valor failed, a female arm 
 Restored the fight. As in the a<yuccnt booth 
 Black Cindara.xa's busy hand prepared 
 Tho smoky viands, she beheld, abashed, 
 Tho routed host, and all her dastard friends 
 Far scattered o'er tho plain ; their shameful flight 
 Grieved her proud heart, for hurried with the stream 
 Even Talgol too had fled, her darling boy. 
 A flaming brand from off tho glowing hearth 
 The greasy heroine snatched ; o'er her pale foes 
 
 Tho threatening motcor shone, brandished in air, 
 
 Or round their heads in ruddy circles played. 
 
 Across tlio prostrate Hildcbrand sho strode 
 
 Dreadfully bright ; the multitude ap]>allcd 
 
 Fled different ways, their beards, their hair in flames. 
 
 Imprudent sho pursued, till on tho brink 
 
 Of tlio next pool, with force united pressed. 
 
 And waving round with huge, two-handed sway 
 
 Her blaiing arms, into tho muddy lake 
 
 Tho bold virago fell. Dire was tho fray 
 
 Between tho warring elements ; of old 
 
 Thus JIulciber and Xanthns, Dardan stream, 
 
 In hideous battle joined. Just sinking now 
 
 Into the boiling deep, with suppliant hands 
 
 She begged for life ; black-ouso and filth obscene 
 
 Hung in her matted hair ; the shouting crowd 
 
 Insult her woes, and proud of thoir success 
 
 The dripping Amazon in triumph lead. 
 
 THE rally; TALOOL racks CPOX AVABO, CCBBI.V A.ND 
 
 Now like a gathering storm, the rallied troops 
 Blackened the plain. Young Talgol from the front, 
 With a fond lover's haste, — swift as the hind 
 That by the huntsman's voice alarmed had fled. 
 Panting returns, and seeks tho gloomy brake. 
 Where her dear fawn lay hid, — into tho booth 
 Impatient rushed. But when tho fatal tale 
 Ho heard, the dearest treasure of his soul 
 Purloined, his Cindy lost ; stiffened and pale 
 A while he stood ; his kindling ire at length 
 Burst forth implacable, and injured love 
 Shot lightning from his eyes ; a spit he seized. 
 Just reeking from the fat sirloin, a long. 
 Unwieldy spear ; then with impetuous rage 
 Pressed forward on the embattled host, that shrunk 
 At his npprr :i'h T!v ri^h Avaro first, 
 Hisflr-li. 'ill dishonest wounds. 
 
 Fled b. II i: I his numerous flocks. 
 
 Nor all til.' ;i-[.iMi,j \'\ I ;i mills that grace 
 His yard well .<t..ri'd, save the penurious clown. 
 Hero Cubbin fell, and there young CoUakin, 
 Nor his fond mother's prayers, nor ardent vows 
 Of love-sick maids, could move relentless Fate. 
 Where'er ho raged .with his far-beaming lanco 
 Ho thinned their ranks, and their battle swerved 
 With many an inroad gored. Then cast around 
 His furious eyes, if haply ho might find 
 The captive fair ; her in the dust he spied 
 Grovelling, disconsolate ; those looks, that erst, 
 So bright, shone like tho polished jet, defiled 
 With mire impure ; thither with eager hasto 
 He ran, he flew. But when tho wretched maid 
 Prostrate he viewed, deformed with gaping wounds 
 And weltering in her blood, his trembling hand 
 Soon dropped tho dreaded lance; on her pale cheeks 
 Ghastly ho gazed, nor felt tho pealing storm. 
 That on his bare defenceless brow fell thick 
 From every arm : o'erpowercd at last, down sunk 
 His drooping head, on her cold breast reclined. 
 
94 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 • SOMERVILLE. 
 
 Hail, faithful pair ! if aught my rerse avail, 
 Nor envy's spite, nor time shall o'er efface 
 The records of your fame ; blind British bards, 
 In ages yet to come, on festal days 
 Shall chant this mournful tale, while listening nymphs 
 Lament around, and every generous heart 
 With active valor glows, and virtuous love. 
 
 How blind is popular fury ! how perverse. 
 When broils intestine rage, and force controls 
 Reason and law ! As the torn vessel sinks 
 Between the burst of adverse waves o'erwhelmed : 
 So fares it with the neutral head, between 
 Contending parties bruised, incessant peeled 
 With random strokes that undiscerning fall ; 
 Guiltless he suffers most who leasts offends. 
 Mundungo, from the bloody field retired. 
 Close in a corner plied the peaceful bowl ; 
 Incurious he, and thoughtless of events. 
 Now deemed himself concealed, wrapped in the cloud 
 That issued from his mouth, and the thick fogs 
 That hung upon his brows ; but hostile rage 
 Inquisitive found out the rusty swain. 
 His short black tube down his furred throat impelled. 
 Staggering he reeled, and with tenacious gripe 
 The bulky Jordan that before him stood 
 Seized falling ; that its liquid freight disgorged 
 Upon the prostrate clown ; floundering he lay 
 Beneath the muddy beverage whelmed, so late 
 His prime delight. Thus the luxurious wasp, 
 Voracious insect, by the fragrant dregs 
 Allured, and in the viscous nectar plunged. 
 His filmy pennons struggling, flaps in vain. 
 Lost in a flood of sweets. Still o'er the plain 
 Fierce onset and tumultuous battle spread ; 
 And now they fall, and now they rise, incensed 
 With animated rage, while naught around 
 Is heard but clamor, shout, and female cries. 
 And curses mixed with groans. Discord on high 
 Shook her infernal scourge, and o'er their heads 
 Screamed with malignant joy ; 
 
 BHADAMANTH, THE MAGISTBATB, AND HIS OFFICIALS. 
 
 When, lo ! between 
 The warring hosts appeared sage Rhadamanth, 
 A knight of high renown. Nor Quixote bold, 
 Nor Amadis of Gaul, nor Iludibras, 
 Mirror of knighthood, 'ere could vie with thee, 
 Great sultan of the vale ! thy front severe. 
 As humble Indians to their pagods bow, 
 The clowns submiss approach. Themis to thee 
 Commits her golden balance, when she weighs 
 The abandoned orphan's sighs, the widow's tears ; 
 By thee gives sure redress, comforts the heart 
 Oppressed with woe, and rears the suppliant knee. 
 Each bold offender hides his guilty head. 
 Astonished, when thy delegated arm 
 Draws her vindictive sword ; at thy command. 
 Stern minister of power supreme ! each ward 
 
 Sends forth her brawny myrmidons, their clubs 
 Blazoned with royal arms ; dispatchful haste 
 Sits earnest on each brow, and public care. 
 Encompassed round with these his dreadful guards. 
 He spurred his sober steed, grizzled with age 
 And venerably dull ; his stirrups stretched 
 Beneath the knightly load ; one hand he fixed 
 Upon his saddle-bow, the other palm 
 Before him spread, like some grave orator 
 In Athens, or free Rome, when eloquence 
 Subdued mankind, and all the listening crowd 
 Hung by their ears on his persuasive tongue. 
 He thus the jarring multitude addressed : 
 
 ' Neighbors and friends and countrymen, the flower 
 Of Kiftsgate ! ah ! what means this impious broil ? 
 Is then the haughty Gaul no more your care '! 
 Are Landen's plains so soon forgot, that thus 
 Ye spill that blood inglorious, waste that strength, 
 Which, well employed, once more might have com- 
 The stripling Anjou to a shameful flight ? [peiled 
 Or by your great forefathers taught, have fixed 
 The British standard on Lutetian towers ! 
 sight odious, detestable ! 0, times, 
 Degenerate, of ancient honor void ! 
 This fact so foul, so riotous, insults 
 All law, all sovereign power, and calls aloud 
 For vengeance ; but, my friends ! too well ye know 
 How slow this arm to punish, and how bleeds 
 This heart, when forced on rigorous extremes. 
 
 countrymen ! all, all can testify 
 My vigilance, my care for public good. 
 
 1 am the man, who by your own free choice 
 Select from all the tribes, in senates ruled 
 Each warm debate, and emptied all my stores 
 Of ancient science in my country's cause. 
 Wise Tacitus, of penetration deep. 
 
 Each secret spring revealed ; Thuanus bold 
 
 Breathed liberty, and all the mighty dead. 
 
 Raised at my call, the British rights confirmed ; 
 
 While Musgrave, How, and Seymour sneered in vain. 
 
 I am the man, who from the bench exalt 
 
 This voice, still grateful to your ears, this voice 
 
 Which breathes for you alone. Where is the wretch 
 
 Distressed, who in the cobwebs of the law 
 
 Entangled, and in subtle problems lost. 
 
 Seeks not to me for aid ! In shoals they oomo 
 
 Neglected, feeless clients, nor return 
 
 Unedified ; scarce greater multitudes 
 
 At Delphi sought the god, to learn their fate 
 
 From his dark oracles. I am the man 
 
 Whose watchful providence beyond the date 
 
 Of this frail life extends, to future times 
 
 Beneficent ; my useful schemes shall steer 
 
 The common-weal in ages yet to come. 
 
 Your children's children, taught by me, shall keep 
 
 Their rights inviolable : and as Rome 
 
 The Sibyl's sacred books, though wrote on leaves. 
 
 And scattered o'er the ground, with pious awe 
 
 Collected ; so your sons shall glean with care 
 
SPRING — MAT. 
 
 95 
 
 My hallowed fragments, every script divine 
 Consult intent, of more intrinsic wortli 
 Than half a Vatican. Hear me, my friends ! 
 Hear me, my countrymen ! suiTer not 
 This hoary head, employed for you alone, 
 To sink with sorrow to the grave.' Ue spake 
 And veiled his bonnot to tho crowd. As when 
 The sovereign of the floods o'er tho rough deep 
 His awful trident shakes, its fury falls, 
 The warring billows on each hand retire, 
 And foam and rago no more, — all now is hushed ; 
 The multitude appeased ; a cheerful dawn 
 Smiles on the fields, the waving throng subsides, 
 And the loud tempest sinks, becalmed in peace. 
 
 Gorgonius now with haughty strides advanced, 
 A gauntlet seized, firm on his guard ho stood, 
 A formidable foe, and dealt in air 
 His empty blows, a prelude to tho fight. 
 Slaughter his trade ; full many a pampered ox 
 Fell by his fatal hand, the bulky beast 
 Bragged by his horns ; oft, at one deadly blow. 
 His iron filst descending crushed his skull, 
 And left him spurning on the bloody floor. 
 While at his feet the guiltless axe was laid. » * 
 Sternly he gazed around with many a frown. 
 Fierce menacing provoked the tardy foo ; 
 For now each combatant, that erst so bold. 
 Vaunted his manly deeds, in pensive mood 
 Hung down his head, and fixed on earth his eyes 
 Pale and dismayed. On Hobbinol, at last, 
 Intent they gaze, on him alone their hope. 
 Each eye solicits him, each panting heart 
 Joins in the silent suit. Soon he perceived 
 Their secret wish, and cased their doubting minds. 
 
 3 SPEEOI 5 HE A 
 PARTISO WIT 
 
 ' Ye men of Kiftsgate ! whose wide-spreading fame 
 In ancient days was sung from shore to shore, 
 To British bards of old a copious theme ; 
 Too well, alas ! in your pale cheeks I view 
 Your dastard souls ; mean, degenerate race ! 
 liut since ye call, [and every] suppliant eye 
 Invites my sovereign aid, lo ! here I come. 
 The bulwark of your fame, though scarce ray brows 
 Are dry from glorious toils, just now achieved, 
 To vindicate your worth. Lo ! here I swear 
 By all my great forefathers' fair renown. 
 By that illustriuus wicker where they sat 
 In comoly j^ii'l'. :iii i in t liuinpbant sloth 
 Gave liiw I" 1 .1 iv . I .1 H< ; or on this spot, 
 
 In glory'.- | i' , > -: I i.'bbinol expires. 
 
 And from his ikan-.L Caiidcretta's arms 
 Sinks to death's cold embrace ; — or by this hand 
 That stranger big with insolence shall fall 
 Prone on the ground, and do your honor right.' 
 Forthwith the hilts he seized ; but on his arm 
 Fond Ganderetta hung, and round his neck 
 Curled in a soft embrace. Honor and love 
 
 A doubtful contest urged, but from her soon 
 He sprung relentless, all her tears are vain ; 
 Yet oft ho turned, oft sighed, thus pleading mild : 
 
 ' 111 should I merit these imperial robes. 
 Ensigns of majesty, by general voice 
 Conferred, should pain, or death itself, avail 
 To shake tho stewly purpose of my soul. [man 
 
 Peace, fair one ! peace ! Heaven will protect tho 
 By thee held dear, and crown thy generous love.' 
 Her from tho listed field the matrons sage 
 Reluctant drew, and with fair speeches soothed. 
 
 THE BocT wrrn ccdoels. — hobbinol BATfBns THE sins.'* 
 
 ASn SIDES OE COBGONira, WHO GETS A EALL, BIT HISI3 
 IS GREAT WRATH. 
 
 Now front to front the fearless champions meet ; 
 Gorgonius, like a tower, whose cloudy top 
 Invades the skies, stood lowering ; far beneath 
 The stripling Hobbinol with careful eye 
 Each opening scans, and each unguarded spaco 
 Measures intent. While, negligently bold, 
 Tho bulky combatant, whose heart elate 
 Disdained his puny foe, now fondly deemed 
 At one decisive stroke to win, unhurt, 
 An easy victory ; down came at once 
 The ponderous plant, with fell malicious rngo. 
 Aimed at his head direct ; but the tough hilts. 
 Swift interposed, elude his eS'ort vain. 
 The cautious Hobbinol, with ready feet. 
 Now shifts his ground, retreating ; then again 
 Advances bold, and his unguarded shins 
 Batters secure. Each well-directed blow 
 Bites to the quick ; thick as the falling hail 
 The strokes rednublod penl his hollow sides. 
 
 A.,.l -..•.. '.. I .. ' ■• -i ' I -""'l, 
 
 An.l •^u:,-\,. .1 In- I. - 111, .Hill ii"i" 111- I'l l-^■llot eye 
 
 Red lightuiug flush._'d ; tlu^ lii-ire tumulUiuua rage 
 Shook all his mighty fabric ; once again 
 Erect he stands, collected, and resolved 
 To conquer or to die : swift as the bolt 
 Of angry Jove, the weighty plant descends. 
 But wary Hobbinol, whoso watchful eye 
 Perceived his kind intent, slipped on one side 
 Declining ; the vain stroke from such an height. 
 With such a force impelled, headlong drew down 
 The unwieldy champion : on the solid ground 
 He fell, rebounding breathless and astunncd. 
 His trunk extended lay ; sore maimed, from out 
 His heaving breast he belched a crimson flood. 
 Full leisurely ho rose, hut conscious shame 
 Of honor lost his failing strength renewed. 
 
 THE CRISIS. — HOBBISOI. HIT, BIT CSCOSQCERKD ; SIMILE OP 
 
 Rage and revenge, and over-during hate. 
 Blackened his stormy front ; rash, furious, blind. 
 And lavish of bis blood, of random strokes 
 He laid on load ; without design or art 
 Onward ho pressed outrageous, while his foo 
 Encircling wheels, or inch by inch retires. 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 ■ SOMERVILLE. 
 
 Wise niggard of his strength. Yet all thy care, 
 Hobbinol ! availed not to prevent 
 One hapless blow ; o'er his strong guard the plant 
 Lapped pliant, and its knotty point impressed 
 His nervous chine ; he wreathed him to and fro 
 Convolved ; yet, thus distressed, intrepid bore 
 His hilts aloft, and guarded well his head. 
 So when the unwary clown, with hasty step, 
 Crushes the folded snake, her wounded parts 
 Grovelling she trails along, but her high crest 
 Erect she bears ; in all its speckled pride 
 She swells inflamed, and with her forky tongue 
 Threatens destruction. With like eager haste, 
 The impatient Hobbinol, whom excessive pain 
 Stung to his heart, a speedy vengeance vowed; 
 Nor wanted long the means : a feint he made 
 With well-dissembled guile, his battered shins 
 Marked with his eyes, and menaced with his plant. 
 Gorgonius, whoso long-suffering legs scarce bore 
 His cumbrous bulk, to his supporters frail 
 Indulgent, soon the friendly hilts opposed ; 
 Betrayed, deceived, on his unguarded crest 
 The stroke delusive fell ; a dismal groan 
 Burst from his hollow chest ; his trembling hands 
 Forsook the hilts ; across the spacious ring 
 Backward he reeled ; the crowd affrighted fly 
 To escape the falling ruin. 
 
 TWANGDILLO'S MISHAP. — BCTK OF HIS FIDDLE. 
 
 But, alas ! 
 'Twas thy hard fate, TwangdiUo ! to receive 
 His ponderous trunk : on thee, on helpless thee, 
 Headlong and heavy the foul monster fell. 
 
 Beneath a mountain's weight, the unhappy bard 
 Lay prostrate, nor was more renowned thy song, 
 seer of Thrace ! ' nor more severe thy fate. 
 His vocal shell, the solace and support 
 Of wretched age, gave one melodious scream. 
 And in a thousand fragments strewed the plain. 
 The nymphs, sure friends to his harmonious mirth, 
 Fly to his aid, his hairy breast expose 
 To each refreshing gale, and with soft hands 
 His temples chafe ; at their persuasive touch 
 His fleeting soul returns ; upon his rump 
 He sat disconsolate ; but when, alas ! 
 He viewed the shattered fragments, down again 
 He sunk expiring : by their friendly care 
 Once more revived, he thrice essayed to speak, 
 And thrice the rising sobs his voice subdued, — 
 Till thus, at last, his wretched plight he mourned : 
 
 TWANGDILLO'S LAMENT FOR ms FIDDLE. 
 
 ' Sweet instrument of mirth ! sole comfort left 
 To my declining years ! whose sprightly notes 
 Restored my vigor and renewed my bloom ; 
 Soft healing balm to every wounded heart ! 
 Despairing, dying swains, from the cold ground 
 Upraised by thee, at thy melodious call. 
 With ravished ears received the flowing joy. 
 Gay pleasantry, and care-beguiling joke, 
 1 Orpheus. 
 
 Thy sure attendants were, and at thy voice 
 All nature smiled. But, 0, this hand no more 
 Shall touch thy wanton strings ; no more with lays 
 Alternate, from oblivion, dark redeem 
 The mighty dead, and vindicate their fame. 
 Vain are thy toils, Hobbinol ! and all 
 Thy triumphs vain. Who shall record, brave man ! 
 Thy bold exploits ? who shall thy grandeur tell. 
 Supreme of Kiftsgate ? Sec thy faithful bard. 
 Despoiled, undone. cover me, ye hills ! 
 Whose vocal cliffs were taught my joyous song. 
 Or thou, fair nymph, Avona, on whose banks 
 The frolic crowd, led by my num. i.ms sti;nii.-, 
 Their orgies kept, and frisked it .■"n tli.' -rr. it. 
 Jocund and gay, while thy rcmiii nuiruiL' -Im :iin> 
 Danced by, well pleased. ! Kt thy Iric mlly uavos 
 O'erwhelm a wretch, and hide this head accursed ! ' 
 
 So plains the restless Philomel, her nest 
 And callow young, the tender growing hope 
 Of future harmony, and frail return 
 For all her cares, — to barbarous churls a prey ; 
 Darkling she sings, the woods repeat her moan. 
 
 3ood eating expedient for heroes. Homer praised for keep- 
 ing a table. Hobbinol triumphant. Ganderetta's '"" "^ 
 fare. Panegyric upon ale. Gossiping over a 
 Compliment to Mr. .Tolin Philips. Ganderetta's per- 
 plexity discovered by Hobbinol •, his consolatory speech j 
 compares himself to Guy, Eai-l of Warwick. Gantieretta 
 encouraged ; strips for the race ; her amiable I 
 Fusca, the Gypsy ; her dirty ligure. Tabitha ; hei 
 reputation for speed. Tabitha carries weitrht. * * 
 smock race. Tabitha's fall. Fusca'.* short Iriumpl 
 
 lays the prize at her 
 vicissitude of humai 
 Mopsa, formerly his 
 pears to him. Mops; 
 
 GOOD EATING EXPEDIENT FOR HEBOI 
 
 Though some of old, and some of modern date. 
 Penurious, their victorious heroes fed 
 With barren praise alone ; yet thou, my muse ! 
 Benevolent, with more indulgent eyes 
 Behold the immortal Hobbinol ; reward 
 With due regalement his triumphant toils. 
 Let Quixote's hardy courage and renown 
 With Sancho's prudent care be meetly joined. 
 
 thou, of bards supreme, Mseonides ! ^ 
 What well-fed heroes grace thy hallowed page ! 
 Laden with glorious spoils, and gay with blood 
 Of slaughtered hosts, the victor chief returns. 
 Whole Troy before him fled, and men and gods 
 Opposed in vain : for the brave man, whose arm 
 Repelled his country's wrongs, ev'n he, the great 
 Atrides, ' king of kings, ev'n he prepares 
 With his own royal hand the sumptuous feast. 
 Full to the brim, the brazen cauldrons smoke, 
 Through all the busy camp the rising blaze 
 1 Homer. " Agamemnon. 
 
SPRING — MAY. 
 
 97 
 
 Attests their joy ; heroes and kings forego 
 Their state and pride, and at his elbow wait 
 Obsequious. On a polished uharger placed, 
 The bulky chine, with plenteous fat inlaid 
 Of golden hue, magnificently shines, 
 The choicest morsels severed to the gods. 
 The hero next, well paid for all his wounds, 
 The rich repast divides with Jove ; from out 
 The sparkling bowl ho draws the generous wine, 
 Unmi.\ed, unmeasured ; with unstinted joy 
 Ills heart o'erflows. 
 
 TOE SliT-DAT FEAST. — RCRAL CHEER. 
 
 In like triumphant port 
 Sat the victorious Uobbinol ; the crowd 
 Transported view, and bless their glorious chief : 
 All Kiftsgate sounds his praise with joint acclaim. 
 Him every voice, him every knee confess, 
 In merit, as in right, their king. Upon 
 The flowery turf, earth's painted lap, are spread 
 The rural dainties ; such as Nature boon 
 Presents with lavish hand, or such as owe 
 To Ganderetta's care their grateful taste 
 Delicious. For she long since prepared 
 To celebrate this day, and with good cheer 
 To grace his triumphs. Crystal gooseberries 
 Are piled on heaps ; in vain the parent tree 
 Defends her lu.Hcious fruit with pointed spears. 
 The ruby-tinctured corinth clustering hangs. 
 And emulates the grape ; green codlings float 
 In dulcet creams : nor wants the last year's store ; 
 The hardy nut, in solid mail secure, 
 Impregnable to winter's frosts, repays 
 Its hoarder's cara The custard's jellied flood, 
 Impatient youth, with greedy joy, devours. 
 Cheesecakes and pies, in various forms upraised. 
 In well-built pyramids aspiring stand. [suado 
 
 Black hams and tongues, that speechless can pcr- 
 To ply the brisk carouse, and cheer the soul 
 With jovial draughts. Nor does the jolly god 
 Deny his precious gifts ; here jocund swains, 
 In uncouth mirth delighted, sporting quaff 
 Their native beverage ; in the brimming glass 
 The liquid amber smiles. 
 
 AS OOTBCRST OF PATRIOTISM TPOX THE rRBSCn. — THE 
 SPANISH ARMADA. — BRITAIN SALVABLE BY BEER. 
 
 Britons, no more 
 Dread your invading foes ; Iet.tho false Gaul, 
 Of rule insatiate, potent to deceive, 
 And great by subtile wiles, from the adverse shore 
 Pour forth his numerous hosts ; Iberia ! join 
 Thy towering fleets ; once more aloft display 
 Thy consecrated banners ; fill thy sails 
 With prayers and vows, most formidably strong 
 In holy trumpery ; let old Ocean groan 
 Beneath the proud Armada, vainly deemed 
 Invincible ; yet fruitless all their toils. 
 Vain every rash eflbrt, while our fat glebe, 
 Of barley grain productive, still supplies 
 The flowing treasure, and with sums immense 
 Supports the throne ; while this rich cordial warms 
 The farmer's courage, — arms his stubborn soul 
 
 13 
 
 With native honor, and resistless rago. 
 
 Thus vaunt the crowd, each froeborn heart o'erflows 
 
 With Britain's glory and his country's love. 
 
 Here, in a merry knot combined, the nymphs 
 Pour out mellifluous streams, the balmy spoils 
 Of the laborious bee. The modest maid 
 But coyly sips, and blushing drinks, abashed : 
 Each lover with observant eye beholds 
 Her graceful shame, and at her glowing cheeks 
 Rekindles all his fires ; but matrons sage, 
 Better experienced, and instructed well 
 In midnight mysteries, and feast-rites old. 
 Grasp the capacious bowl ; nor cease to draw 
 The spumy nectar. Healths of gay import 
 Fly merrily about j now scandal sly. 
 Insinuating, gilds the speci^ius talo 
 With treacherous praise, and with a double face 
 Ambiguous wantonness demurely sneers : 
 Till circling brimmers every veil withdraw. 
 And dauntless impudence appears unmasked. 
 Others apart, in the cool shade retired, 
 Silurian cider quafl*, by that great bard 
 Ennobled, who first taught my grovelling muse 
 To mount aerial. ! could I but raise 
 My feeble voice to his exalted strains, 
 Or to the height of this great argument. 
 The generous liquid in each line should bound 
 Spirituous, nor oppressive cork subduo 
 Its foaming rage ; but, to the lofty theme 
 Unequal, muse, decline the pleasing task. 
 Thus they luxurious, on the grassy turf. 
 Revelled at large ; while naught around was heard 
 But mirth confused, and undistinguished joy. 
 And laughter far resounding. 
 
 HOPES AND FEARS OP AMBITION. 
 
 Serious caro 
 Found here no place, to Ganderetta's breast 
 Retiring ; there with hopes and fears perplexed 
 Her fluctuating iiiin.l. lliMirr thi- soft sigh 
 Escapes unhci'il'-l. [ii'' -r .ill Imi- iii-t ; 
 The trembling: I.Ih-Im - .i, 1,, r l.^.^ly ,-l„'.>l<s 
 
 Alternate ebb iuni fluv ; IV ilu' full ^'liu^s 
 
 She flies abstcniiiius, shuns the untasted feast. 
 
 But careful Hobbinol, whose amorous eye 
 
 From hers ne'er wandered, haunting still the place 
 
 Where his dear treasure lay, discovered soon 
 
 ller secret woo, and bore a lover's part. 
 
 Compassion melts his soul ; her glowing ohccks 
 
 He kissed, enamored, and her panting heart 
 
 He pressed to his ; then with these soothing words, 
 
 ! Tenderly smiling, her faint hopes revived. 
 
 I ■ Courage, my fair ! the splendid prijo is thine. 
 
 I Indulgent fortune will not damp our joys. 
 Nor blast the glories of this happy day. 
 Hear me, ye swains ! ye men of Kiftsgate ! hear : 
 Though great the honors by your hands conferred. 
 These royal ornaments, though great the foroo 
 Of this puissant arm, as all must own. 
 Who saw this day the bold Gorgonius fall ; 
 
RDEAL POETRY. — SOMERVILLE. 
 
 Yet were I more renowned for feats of arms, 
 
 And knigbtly prowess, than that mighty Guy, 
 
 So famed in antique song, Warwick's great cail. 
 
 Who slew the giant Colbrand, in fierce fight 
 
 Maintained a summer's day, and freed this realm j 
 
 From Danish vassalage ; — his ponderous sword, 
 
 And massy spear, attest the glorious deed ; 
 
 Nor less his hospitable soul is seen 
 
 In that capacious cauldron, whose large freight 
 
 Might feast a province ; —yet were I like him. 
 
 The nation's pride, like him I could forego 
 
 All earthly grandeur, wander through the world 
 
 A jocund pilgrim in the lonesome den. 
 
 And rocky cave, with these my royal hands 
 
 Scoop the cold streams with herbs and roots content, 
 
 Mean sustenance ; could I by this but gain 
 
 For the dear fair, the prize her heart desires. 
 
 Believe me, charming maid ! I 'd be a worm. 
 
 The meanest insect, and the lowest thing 
 
 The world despises, to enhance thy fame.' 
 
 So cheered he his fair queen, and she was cheered. 
 
 GASDEEETTi PBEPABES FOB THE RACE. — UER BEACTT. 
 
 Now with a noble confidence inspired 
 Her looks assure success, now stripped of all 
 Her cumbrous vestments, beauty's vain disguise, 
 She shines unclouded in her native charms. 
 Her plaited hair behind her in a brede 
 Hung careless ; with becoming grace each blush 
 Varied her cheeks, than the gay rising dawn 
 More lovely, when the new-born light salutes 
 The joyful earth, impurpling half the skies. 
 Her heaving breast, through the thin covering 
 
 viewed, 
 Fi.Ted each beholder's eye ; her taper [limbs]. 
 And lineaments exact, would mock the skill 
 Of Phidias ; nature alone can form 
 Such due proportion. To compare with her, 
 Oread,' or Dryad, or of Delia's train, 
 Fair virgin huntress for the chase arrayed 
 With painted quiver and unerring bow, — 
 Were but to lessen her superior mien, 
 And goddess-like deport. The master's hand, 
 Rare artisan ! with proper shades improves 
 His lively coloring ; so here, to grace 
 Her brighter charms, next her upon the plain, 
 
 FDSCA AND TABITHA, HEB COMPETITORS, DESCRIBED. 
 
 Fusca the brown appears, with greedy eye 
 Views the rich prize, her tawny front erects 
 Audacious, and with her legs unclean, 
 Booted with giim, and with hei liLckled skin. 
 Offends the crowd bhe^ot the gypsy train 
 Had wandi ud I ni ii"! the ^un's suorching rays 
 Imbrownid 1 nttul to mow 
 
 Thespreali \ rle cant deceive 
 
 The lovesi I iH bci store 
 
 For airy \ i i I hope 
 
 Gorgoniu», il the cuiKut lame say true, 
 
 Her comrade once, they many a merry prank 
 Together played, and many a mile had strolled, 
 For him fit mate. Next Tabitha the tall 
 Strode o'er the plain, wifh huge gigantic pace. 
 And overl.joked the crowd ; known far and near 
 
 Room for the master of the ring ; ye swains ! 
 Divide your crowded ranks. See ! there on high 
 The glittering prize, on the tall standard borne, 
 AVaviug in air ; before him march in files 
 The rural minstrelsy, the rattling drum 
 Of solemn sound, and th' animating horn. 
 Each huntsman's joy ; the tabor and the pipe. 
 Companion dear at feasts, whose cheerful notes 
 Give life and motion to the unwieldy clown. 
 Even age revives, and the pale, [puling] maid 
 Feels ruddy health rekindling on her cheeks, 
 And with new vigor trips it o'er the plain ; 
 Counting each careful step, he paces o'er 
 Th' allotted ground, and fixes at the goal 
 His standard ; there himself majestic swells. 
 
 THE SMOCK-RACE. 
 
 Stretched in a line, the panting rivals wait 
 Th' expected signal, with impatient eyes 
 Measure the space between, and in conceit 
 Already grasp the warm contested prize. 
 Now all at once rush forward to the goal ! 
 And step by step, and side by side, they ply 
 Their busy feet, and leave the crowd behind. 
 Quick heaves each breast, and quick they shoot 
 
 along 
 Through the divided air, and bound it o'er the plain. 
 To this, to that, capricious fortune deals 
 Short hopes, short fears, and momentary joy. 
 The breathless throng, with open throats, pursue, 
 And broken accents shout imperfect praise. 
 Such noise confused is heard, such wild uproar, 
 When on the main the swelling surges rise, 
 Dash on the rocks, and, hurrying through the flood. 
 Drive on each other's backs, and crowd the strand. 
 Before the rest tall Tabitha was seen 
 Stretching amain, and whirling o'er the field ; 
 Swift as the shooting star that gilds the night 
 With rapid, transient blaze, she runs, she flies ; 
 Sudden she stops, nor longer can endure 
 The painful course, but, drooping, sinks away, 
 And like that falling meteor, there she lies, 
 A jelly cold on earth. Fusca with joy 
 Beheld her wretched plight ; o'er the pale corse 
 Insulting bounds ; hope gave her wings, and now, 
 Exerting all her speed, stop after step, 
 
 1 Tewksbury, in the vale of Evesham, where the Avon 
 runs into the Severn. 
 
 : The author's vulgar fling at the dissenters, 
 school at Tewksbury, some thU-ty- 
 
 ers, and then- i 
 5 omitted.— J. 
 
At Gandorotla's elbow urged her way, 
 Hor shoulder pressing, and with poisonous breath 
 Tainting her ivory ncok. Long wliilo had hold 
 The sharp eontest, had not propitious [fate]. 
 With partial hands, to such transcondaut charms 
 Dispensed its favors. For as o'er tho green 
 The careless gypsy, with incautious speed. 
 Pushed forwai-d, and her rival fair had reached. 
 With equal pace, and only not o'orpassed — 
 Haply she treads where late tho merry train. 
 In wasteful luxury and wanton joy, 
 Lavish had spilt tho cldc.'s fmthy flood, 
 And mead with eu- CM 1 m:... 1 -u i lii-r.I, appalled, 
 Andin the treac'lL. I- lii i^.liiig long, 
 
 She slipped, sho l.ll u; n i i - L. supine, 
 Extended lay ; tl"- l:"i-ln"- imili nn.li-, 
 With noisy scorn, appiovcJ her just disgrace. 
 
 TUB TBICMPH OF GANDEBETTA. 
 
 As tho sleek leveret skims before the pack, 
 So flies tho nymph, and so tho crowd pursue. 
 Borne on tho wings of wind tho dear one flies. 
 Swift as the various goddess,' nor less bright 
 In beauty's prime ; when through the yielding air 
 Sho darts along, and with refracted rays 
 Paints the gay clouds ; celestial messenger. 
 Charged with tho high behests of heaven's great 
 queen.' 
 
 Hor at the goal with open arms received 
 Fond Hobbinol ; with active leap he seized 
 The costly prize, and laid it at her feet. 
 Then pausing stood, dumb with excess of joy. 
 E.tpressivo silence ! for each tender glance 
 Betrayed tho raptures that his tongue concealed. 
 Less mute the crowd, in echoing shouts, applaud 
 Her speed, her beauty, his obsequious love. 
 
 THE KISG AND QUEEN OF TUE MAY } THEIR THRONES. 
 
 Upon a little eminence, whose top 
 O'erlookcd the plain, a steep, but short ascent, 
 Placed in a chair of state, with garlands crowned. 
 And loaded with the fragrance of the spring. 
 Fair Ganderetta shone ; like mother Evo 
 In her gay sylvan lodge, delicious bower ! 
 Where Nature's wanton hand, above the reach 
 Of rule, or art, had lavished all hor store 
 To deck the flowory roof ; anrl at her side 
 Imperial Hobbinol, with front sublime. 
 Great as a Roman consul, just returned 
 From cities sacked, and provinces laid waste, — 
 In hia paternal wicker sat enthroned. 
 
 PCBLIO APPLAUSE. — ITS COILOWSESS. 
 
 With eager eyes the crowd about them press. 
 Ambitious to behold tho happy pair. 
 Each voice, each instrument proclaims their joy 
 With loudest vehemence : such noise is heard. 
 Such a tumultuous din, when, at the call 
 Of Britain's sovereign, tho rustic bands 
 O'erspread the fields ; the subtle candidates 
 Dissembled homage pay, and court the fools 
 Whom they despise ; each proud majestic clown 
 
 1 Iris, the rainbow, 
 
 Looks big and shouts amain, mad with tho taste 
 Of power supreme, frail empire of a day ! 
 That with tho sotting sun extinct is lost. 
 
 -hoddinol's sin 
 
 Nor is thy grandeur, iinL-i r. IIMni t ! 
 Of longer date. Short i ■ i ' ' " 
 
 Of mortal pride ; wepli\ .' i i i ■ i > ilr, 
 And strut upon the stugi- ; lii. -..im i .hiuigod, 
 And offers us a dungeon fur a tlirune. 
 Wretched vicissitude ! for, after all 
 His tinsel dreams of empire and renown. 
 Fortune, capiiii'u- il;itni , willi.lriuvs at once 
 Tho goodly ]m-i' i ■ i. i In ' >< - presents 
 Her, whom lli^ ^li i " ""I ililHu-red and feared ! 
 
 i,, ' i( tho crowd, a meagre form 
 
 \\ 1 1 : I -ige incomposcd ! 
 
 ■\Vil.il, I I !_:.■ .sparkled in her eyes, 
 
 And poverty sat shriiiUing on her cheeks. 
 Yet through the cloud that hung upon her brows 
 A faded lustre broke, that dimly slione, 
 Shorn of its beams, — the ruins of a face. 
 Impaired by time, and shattered by misfortunes. 
 A froward babo hung at her flabby breast. 
 And tugged for life ; but wept, with hideous moan, 
 His frustrate hopes, and unavailing pains. 
 Another o'er her bending shoulder peeped. 
 Swaddled around with rags of various hue. 
 He kens his comrade twin with envious eye, 
 As of his share defrauded ; then amain 
 He also screams, and to his brother's cries 
 In doleful concert joins his loud laments. 
 
 0, dire effects of lawless love ! sting 
 Of pleasure past ! As when a full-freight ship. 
 Blest in a rich return of pearls or gold, 
 Of fragrant spice, or silks of costly dye. 
 Makes to the wished-for port with swelling sails. 
 And all her gaudy trim displayed ; o'erjoyed 
 The master smiles ; but if from some small creek 
 A lurking corsair the rich quarry spies, 
 Witli all her sails bears down upon her prey. 
 And peals of thunder from her hollow sides 
 Clicik his triumphant course, — agliast ho stands 
 StiflVned with fear, unable to resist. 
 And impotent to fly ; all his fond hopes 
 Are dashed at onco ! naught now, alas ! remains 
 But the sad choice of slavery or death ! — 
 So fared it with the hapless Hobbinol, 
 In tho full blaze of his triumphant joy 
 Surprised by hor, whoso dreadful face alone 
 Could shake his steadfast soul. In vain ho turns 
 And shifts his place averse j sho haunts him still, 
 And glares upon him with hor haggard eyes. 
 That fiercely spoko her wrongs. 
 
 MOPSA'S invective. — STORT OF HER SEDI'CTION. 
 
 Words swelled with sighs 
 At length burst forth, and thus sho storms enraged : 
 
RUKAL POETRY. SOMERVILLE. 
 
 ' Know'st thou not me ? false man ! not to know me 
 
 Argues thyself unknowing of thyself, 
 
 Puffed up with pride, and bloated with success. 
 
 Is injured Mopsa then so soon forgot? 
 
 Thou ftnew'st me once, ah ! woe is mo ! thou didst. 
 
 But if laborious days and sleepless nights; 
 
 If hunger, cold, contempt, and penury, 
 
 Inseparable guests, have thus disguised 
 
 Thy once-beloved, thy handmaid dear ; if thine 
 
 And fortune's frowns have blasted all my charms ; 
 
 If hero no roses grow, no lilies bloom. 
 
 Nor rear their heads on this neglected face ; 
 
 If through the world I ruiiL't- J sli.^lit'.l ^^li^de, 
 
 The ghost of what I w;i.s l-il unkiinwii; 
 
 At least know these, t^.r ' il,.^ -u^i -iiupering 
 
 Dear image of thyself ; set ! li"« it >iiiuut-< [babe. 
 
 With joy at thy approach ! see, how it gilds 
 
 Its soft, smooth face, with false paternal smiles ! 
 
 Native deceit, from thee, base man, derived ! 
 
 Or view this other elf, in every art 
 
 Of smiling fraud, in every treacherous leer, 
 
 The very Ilobbinol ! ah ! cruel man ! 
 
 Wicked, ingrate ! and couldst thou then so soon, 
 
 So soon forget that * * fatal [hour] when me * * 
 
 Thy artful wiles betrayed ? was there a star, 
 
 By which thou didst not swear ? was there a curse, 
 
 A plague on earth, thou didst not then invoke 
 
 On that devoted head, if e'er thy heart 
 
 Proved haggard to my love, if e'er thy hand 
 
 Declined the nuptial bond ? but, ! too well. 
 
 Too well, alas ! my throbbing breast perceived 
 
 The black impending storm ; the conscious moon 
 
 Veiled in a sable cloud her modest face. 
 
 And boding owls proclaimed the dire event. 
 And yet I love thee. — ! couldst thou behold 
 That image dwelling in my heart ! but why, 
 Why waste I here these unavailing tears ? 
 
 ■ On this thy minion, on this tawdry thing ; 
 On this gay victim, thus with garlands crowned. 
 All, all my vengeance fall ! Ye lightnings, blast 
 That face accursed, the source of all my woe ! 
 Arm, arm, ye furies ! arm ; all hell break loose ! 
 While thus I lead you to my just revenge. 
 
 And thus ' Up starts the astonished Hobbinol 
 
 To save his better half. ' Fly, fly,' he cries, 
 ' Fly, my dear life ! the fiend's malicious rage.' 
 
 Borne on the wings of fear, away she bounds. 
 And in the neighboring village pants forlorn. 
 So the coursed hare to the close covert flies. 
 Still trembling, though secure. Poor Hobbinol 
 More grievous ills attend : around him press 
 A multitude, with huge, herculean clubs. 
 Terrific band ! the royal mandate these 
 Insulting show : arrested and amazed. 
 Half dead he stands ; no friends dare interpose, 
 But bow dejected to the imperial scroll : 
 Such is the force of law. While conscious shame 
 Sits heavy on his brow, they view the wretch 
 To Rhadamanth's august tribunal dragged. 
 Good Rhadamanth ! to every wanton clown 
 Severe — indulgent only to himself. 
 
 'yK'^^^ 
 
 ^^^^ - ^ #- 
 
 X 
 
%\u[\[ (Dhs for aia]). 
 
 GRAY'S ODE ON THE SPRING. 
 
 D.iWES'S " SONG OF SPRING." , 
 
 Lo ! whore the rosy-bosomed hours, 
 
 'Tis the season of tender delight,— 
 
 Fair Venus' train, appear. 
 
 The season of fresh-springing flowers ; 
 
 Disclose the long-oxpcoted flowers. 
 
 Young Spring in the joy of her beauty is bright, 
 
 And walce the purple year ! 
 
 And leads on the rapturous hours ; 
 
 The attic warbler pours her throat, 
 
 Fair nature is loud in her transport of pleasure, 
 
 Responsive to the cuckoo's note, 
 
 The woods and the valleys receho her lay ; 
 
 The untaught harmony of Spring : 
 
 The robin now warbles his love-breathing measure, 
 
 While, whispering pleasures as they fly. 
 
 And scatters the blossoms while tilting the spray; 
 
 Cold zephyrs through the clear blue sky 
 
 One impulse of tenderness thrills through the groves, 
 
 Their gathered fragrance fling. 
 
 While the birds carol sweetly their innocent loves. 
 
 Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch 
 
 Uow mild is the zephyr that blows ! 
 
 A broader, browner shade, 
 
 What fragrance his balmy wings bear — 
 
 Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech 
 
 He breathes a,s if fearful to brush from the rose 
 
 O'er-eanopies the glade, 
 
 The dew-drops so tremulous there ! 
 
 Beside some water's rushy brink 
 
 The stream flowing gently beside the green cresses 
 
 With me the muse shall sit, and think 
 
 So lightsomely dashes their tendrils away — 
 
 (At case reclined in rustic state). 
 
 It seems some fond mother, who while she caresses, 
 
 How vain the ardor of the crowd, 
 
 Would sportfully chide her young children at play. 
 
 Uow low, how little, are the proud, 
 
 Hear the minstrel-bcc lulling the blossoms to rest. 
 
 How indigent the great ! 
 
 For the nectar he sips as the wild-flowers' guest ! 
 
 Still is the toiling hand of Care; 
 
 Look out, then, on Nature a while, 
 
 The panting herds repose ; 
 
 Observe her inviting theo now, — 
 
 Yet hark, how through the peopled air 
 
 Benevolence beams in her sunshiny smile, 
 
 The busy murmur glows ! 
 
 And blandishment sits on her brow : [flowing. 
 
 The in?.v.t y„„th nro on the wing, 
 
 Come stray with me, love, where the fountains are 
 
 KaL'riiut;„i.il„.:„.,R.yed spring, 
 
 And wild-flowers cluster to drink of the stream ; 
 
 .All.l Hi. lit :llni.| Ihr liquid nOUU : 
 
 While watching the lily and dafibdil blowing. 
 
 S....,r li.LiU ..'-i-ll,,. ,-„n-ent.skim, 
 
 No moment of bliss shall so exquisite seem ; 
 
 t^nhP -i: r, Ij,. ,, , <>Iy--il,loU trim, 
 
 flTien nature invites theo, ! why, then, delay ; 
 
 
 While joy is still waking, away - love, away ! 
 
 Such is thu race ..f iVIan ; 
 
 PERCIVAL'S "REIGN OF MAY." 
 
 And they that creep, and they that fly. 
 
 I FEEL a newer life in every gale ; 
 
 Shall end where they began. 
 
 The winds, that fan the flowers, 
 
 Alike the busy and the gay 
 
 
 But flutter through life's little day. 
 
 Tell of serener hours,— 
 
 In Fortune's varying colors dressed ; 
 
 Of hours that glide unfelt away 
 
 Bruised by the hand of rough mischance, 
 
 Beneath the sky of May. 
 
 Or chilled by age, their airy dance 
 They leave, in dust to rest. 
 
 The spirit of the gentle south wind calls 
 From his blue throne of air. 
 
 Methinks I hear, in accents low, 
 
 And where his whispering voice in music falls. 
 
 The sportive, kind reply ; 
 
 Beauty is budding there ; 
 
 Poor moralist ! and what art thou ? 
 
 The bright ones of the valley break 
 
 A solitary fly ! j 
 
 Their slumbers and awake. 
 
 Thy joy no glittering female meets, 
 
 The waving verdure rolls along the plain. 
 
 No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets. 
 
 And the wide forest weaves. 
 
 No painted plumage to display : 
 
 To welcome back its playful mates again, 
 
 On hasty wings thy youth is flown ; 
 
 A canopy of leaves ; 
 
 Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone — 1 
 
 And from its darkening shadow floats 
 
 Wc frolic while 'tis May. 
 
 A gush of trembling notes. 
 
102 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — MILTON - 
 
 ANACREON 
 
 Fairer and brighter spreads the reign of May ; 
 
 The tresses of the woods 
 "With the light dallying of the west wind play, 
 
 And the full-brimming floods. 
 As gladly to their goal they run. 
 
 Hail the returning sun. 
 
 MILTON'S *«MAY MORmNG." 
 
 Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, 
 Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her 
 The flowery May, who from her green lap throws 
 The yellow cuw^lip and the pale primrose. 
 Hail, bounteous May ! that dost inspire 
 Mirth and youth and warm desire ; 
 Woods and groves are of thy dressing, 
 Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. 
 Thus we salute thee with our early song, 
 And welcome thee and wish thee long. 
 
 HOLMES'S "SPRING SCENE." 
 Winter is past ; the heart of Nature warms 
 Beneath the wreck of unresisted storms ; 
 Doubtful at first, suspected more than seen, 
 The southern slopes are fringed with tender green ; 
 On sheltered banks, beneath the dripping eaves, 
 Spring's earliest nurslings spread their glowing 
 
 leaves, 
 Bright with the hues from wider pictures won. 
 White, azure, golden, — drift, or sky, or sun : 
 The snowdrop bearing on her radiaut breast 
 The frozen trophy torn from winter's crest ; 
 The violet gazing on the arch of blue 
 Till her own iris wears its deepened hue ; 
 The spendthrift crocus, bursting through the mould, 
 Naked and shivering, with his cup of gold. 
 Swelled with new life, the darkening elm on high 
 Prints her thick buds against the spotted sky ; 
 On all her boughs the stately chestnut cleaves 
 The gummy shroud that wraps her embryo leaves ; 
 The housefly, stealing from his narrow grave. 
 Drugged with the opiate that November gave. 
 Beats with faint wing against the snowy pane, 
 Or crawls tenacious o'er its lucid plain ; 
 From shaded chinks of lichen-crusted walls 
 In languid curves the gliding serpent crawls ; 
 The bog's green harper, thawing from his sleep, 
 Twangs a hoarse note, and tries a shortened leap. 
 On tlniitiii- t;tiN t}i:if nice the softening noon. 
 The still, .Uy tuitlr- lange their dark platoons, 
 Or t.iihii'j'. ai.nlis-;, (.Cr the mellowing fields, 
 Trail through the grass their tessellated shields. 
 At last young April, ever frail and fair, 
 Wooed by her playmate with the golden hair, 
 Chased to the margin of receding floods. 
 O'er the soft meadows starred with opening buds. 
 In tears and blushes sighs herself away, 
 And hides her cheek beneath the flowers of May. 
 
 ANACREON'S ''SPRING.'^ 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM 
 
 GREEK BY : 
 
 Behold the 'young, the rosy Spring, 
 Gives to the breeze her scented wing. 
 While virgin graces, warm with May, 
 Fling roses o'er her dewy way. 
 The murmuring billows of the deep 
 Have languished into silent sleep. 
 And mark ! the flitting sea-birds lave 
 Their plumes in the reflecting wave ; 
 While cranes from hoary Winter fly 
 To flutter in a kinder sky. 
 Now the genial star of day 
 Dissolves the murky clouds away. 
 And cultured field and winding stream 
 Ai"e freshly glittering in his beam. 
 
 Now the earth prolific swells 
 With leafy buds and flowery bells j 
 Gemming shoots the olive twine. 
 Clusters bright festoon the vine ; 
 All along the branches creeping, 
 Through the velvet foliage peeping, 
 Little infant fruits we see 
 Nursing into luxury. 
 
 DRYDEN'S "EMILY A-MAYING." 
 
 The young Emilia, fairer to be seen 
 Than the fair lily on the flowery green — 
 More fresh than May herself in blossoms new — 
 For with the rosy color strove her hue — 
 Waked, as her custom was, before the day. 
 To do the observance due to sprightly May ; 
 For sprightly May commands our youth to keep 
 The vigils of her nights, and breaks their sluggard 
 
 Each gentle breath with kindly warmth she moves; 
 Inspires new flames, revives extinguished loves. 
 
 In this remembrance, Emily, ere day, 
 Arose, and dressed herself in rich array ; 
 Fresh as the month, and as the morning fair, 
 Adown her shoulders fell her length of hair ; 
 A ribbon did the braided tresses bind. 
 The rest was loose, and wantoned in the wind. 
 Aurora had but newly chased the night. 
 And purpled o'er the sky with blushing light. 
 When to the garden walk she took her way 
 To sport and trip along in cool of day. 
 And offer maiden vows in honor of the May. 
 
 At every turn she made a little stand. 
 And thrust among the thorns her lily hand. 
 To draw the rose ; and every rose she drew. 
 She shook the stalk, and brushed away the dew ; 
 Then parti-colnred flowers of white and red 
 She wove, to make a garland for her head : 
 This done, she sung and carolled out so clear. 
 That men and angels might rejoice to hear ; 
 Our wondering Philomel forgot to sing, 
 And learned from her to welcome in the Spring. 
 
^liiinsan's "dniitlc S^bcpljcrb." 
 
 THE PERSONS. 
 
 Sir William WoiiTnT. 
 
 PiTiB, the Gentle Shepherd, in love with PcRgy. 
 RocKR, a rich young stiepherd, in love with Jenny. 
 SVM"^<. l,„.,, ,,i =h,,,i,,r,l-M.-r,i,t-< to Sir William. 
 
 Madub, Glaud'8 
 
 Time or Actios — Within twenty-four hours. 
 First act begins at eight in the morning. 
 Second act begins at eleven in the forenoon. 
 Third act begins at four in the afternoon. 
 Fourth act begins at nine o'clocl< at night. 
 Fifth act begins by day-light next morning. 
 
 PATIE AND ROGER. 
 
 SANG I. 
 
 TCXE. — ' The waukirtg of the/au/ds.' 
 
 My Peggy is a young tiling, 
 
 .Tust entered in lior teens, 
 
 Fair as tho day, and sweet as .May, 
 
 Fair as the day, and always gay. 
 
 My Peggy is a young thing, 
 
 And I 'm not very auld. 
 
 Yet well I like to meet her at 
 
 The wauking of the fauld. 
 
 My Peggy speaks sac sweetly. 
 
 Whene'er wo meet alano, 
 
 I wish nae mair to lay my caro, — 
 
 I wish nao mair of a' that 's rare. 
 
 My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, 
 
 To a' the lave I 'ra cauld ; 
 
 But she gars a' my spirits glow. 
 
 At wauking of the fauld. 
 
 grease to smear with, and the making of cheese. 
 
 My Peggy smiles sae kindly. 
 
 Whene'er I whisper love, 
 
 That I look down on a' the town, :— 
 
 That I look down upon a crown. 
 
 Wy Peggy smiles soo kindly, 
 
 It makes me blyth and bauld ; 
 And naething gi'es mo sic delight 
 As wauking of tho fauld. 
 
 My Peggy sings sae saftly, 
 
 When on my pipe I play. 
 
 By a' the rest it is eonfcst, — 
 
 By a' the rest, that she sings best. 
 
 My Peggy sings sae saftly. 
 
 And in her sangs aro tauld. 
 With innocence, tho wale o' sense. 
 At wauking of the fauld. 
 
 This sunny morning, Roger, cheers my blood. 
 And puts all nature in a jovial mood. 
 How heartsonie is 't to see the rising plants, — 
 To hear the birds chirm o'er their pleasing rant« ! 
 How halesome is 't to snuff the cawler air, 
 And all the sweets it bears, when void of care ! 
 What ails thee, Roger, then ? what gars theo granc ? 
 Tell me the cause of thy ill-seasoned pain. 
 
 I'm bom, Patie ! to a thrawart fate. 
 I 'm born to strive with hardships sad and great ! 
 Tempests may ceaae to jaw the rowan flood, 
 Corbies and tods to grein for lambkins' blood. 
 But I, opprest with never-ending grief. 
 Maun ay despair of lighting on relief. 
 
 The bees shall loath tho flower, and quit the hi' 
 The saughs on boggio ground shall cease to thrivi 
 Ere scornfu' queans, or loss of warldly gear, 
 Shall spill my rest, or ever force a tear ! 
 
 Sao might I say ; but it 's no ca.«y done 
 By ano whase saul 's sae sadly out of tunc. 
 You have sae saft a voice, and slid a tongue. 
 You arc the darling of baith auld and young. 
 If I but cttle at a sang, or speak. 
 They dit their lugs, syne up their Icglens cleek, 
 And jeer me hameward frao tho loan or bught. 
 While I'm confused with mony a vexing thought. 
 Yet I am tall, and as well built as thoo. 
 Nor mair unlikely to a lass's ee ; 
 For ilka sheep ye have, I '11 number ten ; 
 And should, as ane may think, come farther ben. 
 
104 
 
 RURAL POETRY. RAMSAY. 
 
 But aiblins ! nibour, ye have not a heart, 
 And downa eithly with your cunzie part ; 
 If that be true, what signifies your gear ? 
 A mind that's scrimpit never wants some care. 
 
 My byar tumbled, nine braw nowt were smoored. 
 Three eif-shot were, yet I these ills endured : 
 In winter last my cares were very sma', 
 The' scores of wathers perished in the snaw. 
 
 Were your bein rooms as thinly stocked as mine, 
 Less ye wad loss, and less ye wad repine. 
 He that has just enough can soundly sleep ; 
 The o'ercome only fashes fowk to keep. 
 
 May plenty flow upon thee for a cross. 
 That thou ma/st thole the pangs of mony a loss ! 
 may'st thou doat on some fair paughty wench. 
 That "ne'er will lout thy lowan drowth to quench ; 
 Till bris'd beneath the burden, thou cry dool ; 
 And awn that ane may fret that is nae fool. 
 
 Sax good fat lambs, I said them ilka clute 
 At the West-port, and bought a winsome flute, 
 Of plum-tree made, with iv'ry virles round, 
 A dainty whistle, with a pleasant sound : 
 I '11 be mair canty wi't, — and near cry dool, — 
 Than you with all your cash, ye dowie fool ! 
 
 HOGEB. 
 
 Na Patie, na ! I 'm nae sic churlish beast ; 
 Some 'other thing lies heavier at my breast. 
 I dreamed a dreary dream this hinder night. 
 That gars my flesh a' creep yet with the fright. 
 
 PATIE. 
 
 Now, to a friend, how silly's this pretence,— 
 To ane wha you and a' your secrets kens ! 
 Daft are your dreams, as daftly wad ye hide 
 Your well-seen love, and dorty Jenny's pride. 
 Take courage, Roger, me your sorrows tell, 
 And safely think nane kens them but yoursell. 
 
 Indeed now, Patie, ye have guessed o'er true ; 
 And there is naithing I'll keep up frae you. 
 Me dorty Jenny looks upon asquint, 
 To speak but till her I dare hardly mint ; 
 In ilka place she jeers me air and late, 
 And gars me look bombaz'd and unco blate. 
 But yesterday I met her yont a knowe, — 
 She fled as frae a shelly-coated kow. 
 She Bauldy looes, Bauldy that drives the car. 
 But geeks at me, and says I smell of tar. 
 
 PATIE. 
 
 But Bauldy looes not her. Right well I wat 
 He sighs for Neps. Sae that may stand for that. 
 
 I wish I cou'dna looe her ; —but in vain ; 
 I still maun doat, and thole her proud disdain. 
 My Bawty is a cur I dearly like, 
 Till he yowl'd sairi she strak the poor dumb tyke. 
 If I had filled a nook within her breast. 
 She wad have shawn mair kindness to my beast. 
 When I begin to tune my stock and horn, 
 With a' her face she shaws a canldrife scorn. 
 Last night I played — ye never heard sic spite — 
 ' Qtr Bogie' was the spring, and her delyte,— 
 Yet tauntingly she at her cousin speered, 
 Gif she could tell what tune I played, and sneered ! 
 Flocks, wander where ye like, I Uinna care, 
 I 'U break my reed, and never whistle mair ! 
 
 E'en do sae, Roger, wha can help misluck ? 
 Saebeins she be sic a thrawn-gabbit chuck, — 
 Yonder 's a craig, since ye have tint all houp, 
 Gae till 't your ways, and take the lover's lowp ! 
 
 BOGER. 
 
 I needna mak sic speed my blood to spill ; 
 I '11 warrant death como soon enough a-will. 
 
 Daft gowk ! leave aff that silly whingin way, — 
 Seem careless, — there 's my hand ye '11 win the day. 
 Hear how I served my lass I looe as weel 
 As ye do Jenny, and with heart as leel. 
 Last morning I was gay and early out. 
 Upon a dyke I leaned glowring about, 
 I saw my Meg come linking o'er the lee ; 
 I saw my Meg, but Meggy saw na me ; 
 For yet the sun was wading thro' the mist. 
 And she was close upon me e'er she wist ; 
 Her coats were kiltit, and did sweetly shaw 
 Her straight bare legs that whiter were than snaw. 
 Her eockernony snooded up fou sleek. 
 Her hafi'et locks hang waving on her cheek ; 
 Her cheek sae ruddy, and her een sae clear ; 
 And ! her mouth 's like ony hinny pear. 
 Neat, neat she was, in bustine waistcoat clean, 
 As she came skiffing o'er the dewy green : 
 Blythsome I cried, ' My bonny Meg, come here, 
 I ferly wherefore ye 're sae soon asteer ; 
 But I can guess, ye 're gawn to gather dew.' 
 She scoured awa, and said, 'What's that to you?' 
 ' Then, fare ye weel, Meg-dorts; and e'en 's ye like ? 
 I careless cryed, and lap in o'er the dyke. 
 I trow, when that she saw, within a crack. 
 She came with a right thieveless errand back ; 
 Miscawed me first ; then bad me hound my dog, 
 To wear up three waff ewes strayed on the bog. 
 I leugh ; and sae did she ; then with great haste 
 I clasped my arms about her neck and waist ; 
 About her yielding waist, and took a fouth 
 Of sweetest kisses frae her glowing mouth. 
 
 ' Even while r 
 
 ' — Edition 0/ 1808. 
 
SPRING — MAT. 
 
 105 
 
 While bard and fast I bold hor in my grips, 
 My very saul came lowping tu my lips. 
 Sair, sair sbe flet wi' me 'tween ilka smaok, 
 But wecl I kend sbe meant nae as she spak. 
 Dear Roger, when your jo puts on her gloom, 
 Do ye sae too, and never fash your thumb : 
 Seem to forsake her, soon sbe '11 change her mood ; 
 Gae woo anithor, and she '11 gang clean wood. 
 
 SANG II. 
 
 Dear Roger, if your Jenny geek, 
 
 And answer kindnc^rs with ii ylight, 
 Seem unconcerned at her ne^^Ieet, 
 
 But them despise who 're soon defeat. 
 And, with a simple face, give way 
 
 To a repulse ; — then be not blate. 
 Push bauldly on, and win the day. 
 
 When maiden?, innocently young, 
 
 Say often what they never mean, 
 Ne'er mind their pretty, lying tongue, 
 
 But tont the language of their een : 
 If these agree, and she persist 
 
 To answer all your love with hate. 
 Seek elsewhere to bo better blest, 
 
 And let her sigh when 't is too late. 
 
 Kind Patio, now foir fa' your honest heart. 
 Ye 're ay sae eadgy, and have sic an art 
 To hearten ane ! for now, as clean 's a leek. 
 Ye 've cherished me since ye began to speak. 
 Sae, for your pains, I'll make ye a propino 
 (My mother, rest ber saul ! she made it fine); 
 A tartan plaid, spun of good bawsloek woo. 
 Scarlet and green the sets, the borders blue ; 
 'With spraings like gowd and sillercrossed with black ; 
 I never had it yet upon my back. 
 Wool are ye wordy o' 't, wha have sae kind 
 Redd up my ravel'd doubts, and cleared my mind. 
 
 Weel, had ye there ! And since yo 've frankly made 
 To me a present of your braw new plaid, 
 
 ite's be yours ; and she too that 's sae nice 
 3ome a-will, gif yc '11 take my advice. 
 
 My fli 
 Shall 
 
 As ye advL-^e, I '11 promise to observ't ; 
 But ye maun keep the flute, ye best desen 
 Now tak it out, and gic 's a bonny spring, 
 For I 'm in tift to hear you play and sing. 
 
 But first we'll take a turn up to the height, 
 And see gif all our flocks bo feeding right ; 
 Bo that time bannocks, and a shave of cheese, 
 Will make a breakfast that a laird might pleai 
 
 14 
 
 Might plea-so the daintiest gabs wore thoy sao wise 
 To season meat with health, instead of spice. 
 When we have tano the grace drink at this well, 
 I'll whistle syne, and sing t'ye liko mysell. 
 
 [JSxeun/.] 
 
 SCENK II. 
 
 PEOOY A.VD JESSY. 
 
 Come, Meg, lot 's fa' to wark upon this green, 
 This shining day will bleach our linen clean ; 
 The water's clear, the lift unclouded blue, 
 Will make them liko a lily wet with dew. 
 
 Gao farer up the burn to Hobbie's Dow, 
 Where a' the sweets of spring and simmer grow. 
 Between twa birks, out o'er a little lin, 
 The water fa's, and maks a singand din : 
 A pool breast-deep, beneath as clear as glass. 
 Kisses with easy whirles the bordering grass. 
 We'll end our washing while the morning's cool ; 
 And when the day grows bet, we '11 to the pool. 
 There wash oursells ; 't is bealtbfu' now in May, 
 And sweetly cauler on sae warm a day. 
 
 JEXXV. 
 
 Daft lassife, when wo 're naked, what '11 yo say, 
 Gif our twa herds eome brattling down the brae, 
 And see us sae ? — that jeering fallow. Pate, 
 Wad taunting say, 'Ilaith, lasses, yo're no blate ! 
 
 PBOGV. 
 
 We 're far frao ony road, and out of sight ; 
 The lads, they're feeding far boyont the height. 
 But tell me — now, dear Jenny, we 're our lane — 
 What gars ye plague your wooer with disdain?- 
 The neighbors a' tont this as weel as I, 
 That Roger loo's ye, yet yo earena by. 
 What ails ye at bim 7 Troth, between us twa. 
 He 's wordy you the best day e'er yo saw ! 
 
 I dinna like him, Peggy, there's an end ! 
 A herd mair sheepish yet I never kenned. 
 He kames bis hair, indeed, and gaes right snug, 
 With ribbon-knots at his blue bonnet lug ; 
 Whilk pensylie bo wears a thought a-jee. 
 And spreads liis garters dic'd beneath his knee ; 
 Ho falds his owrclay down bis breast with care. 
 And few gangs trigger to the kirk or fair ; 
 For a' that, ho can neither sing nor say. 
 Except, ' How d' ye ? ' — or, ' There 's a bonny day.' 
 
106 
 
 RURAL POETRY. RAMSAY. 
 
 Te dash the lad with constant slighting pride ; 
 Hatred for love is unco sair to bide. 
 But ye '11 repent ye, if his love grow oauld. 
 What liUes a dorty maiden when she 's auld ? — 
 Like dawted wean, that tarrows at its meat, 
 That for some feckless whim will orp and greet : 
 The lave laugh at it till the dinner 's past, 
 And syne the fool thing is obliged to fast, 
 Or scart anither's leavings at the last. 
 Fy, Jenny, think, and dinna sit your time ! 
 
 TCSE. 
 
 ' Polwa 
 
 The dorty will repent, 
 
 If lover's heart grow cauld ; 
 
 And nane her smiles will tent, 
 Soon as her face looks auld. 
 
 The dawted bairn thus takes the pet, 
 Nor eats though hunger crave ; 
 
 Whimpers and tarrows at its meat, 
 And 's laught at by the lave. 
 
 They jest it till the dinner 's past, 
 
 Thus by itself abused. 
 The fool thing is obliged to fast. 
 
 Or eat what they 've refused. 
 
 I never thought a single life a crime ! 
 
 Nor I : but love in whispers lets us ken, 
 That men were made for us, and we for men. 
 
 If Roger is my jo, he kens himsell, 
 For sic a tale I never heard him tell. 
 He glowrs and sighs, and I can guess the cause ; 
 But wha's obliged to spell his hums and haws? 
 Whene'er he likes to tell his mind mair plain, 
 I 'se tell him frankly ne'er to do 't again. 
 They 're fools that slav'ry like, and may be free ; 
 The ohiels may a' knit up themselves for me ! 
 
 Be doing your ways ! for me, I have a mind 
 To be as yielding as my Patie 's kind. 
 
 JENSY. 
 
 Heh ! lass, how can ye looe that rattle-skull ? 
 
 uit a poor fechting I 
 
 I '11 rin the risk ; nor have I ony fear, 
 But rather think ilk langsome day a year. 
 Till I with pleasure mount my bridal-bed. 
 Where on my Patio's breast I '11 lean my head. 
 There we may kiss as lang as kissing 's good, 
 Acd what we do there 's nane dare call it rude. 
 
 He 's get his will ; why no ? 't is good my part 
 To give him that, and he '11 give me his heart. 
 
 . JENNY. 
 
 He may indeed, for ten or fifteen days, 
 Mak muckle o' ye, with an unco fraise. 
 And daut you ba'th afore fowk and your lane ; 
 But soon as your newfangleness is gane. 
 He '11 look upon you as his tether-stake, 
 And think he 's tint his freedom for your sake ; 
 Instead then of lang days of sweet delyte, 
 Ae day be dumb, and a' the ncist he'll flyte ; 
 And may be, in his barlickhoods, ne'er stick 
 To lend his loving wife a loundering lick. 
 
 Tone.— ' O dear mother, what shall I A 
 dear Peggy, love's beguiling, 
 We ought not to trust his smiling ; 
 Better far to do as I do. 
 Lest a harder luck betide you. 
 Lasses, when their fancy 's carried, 
 Think of naught but to be married ; 
 Running to a life destroys 
 Heartaome, free, and youthfu' joys. 
 
 Sic coarse-spun thoughts as thae want pith to move 
 My settled mind ; I 'm o'er far gane in love. 
 Patie to me is dearer than my breath ; 
 But want of him I dread nae other skaith. 
 There 's nane of a' the herds that tread the green 
 Has sic a smile, or sic twa glancing een. 
 And then he speaks with sic a taking art, 
 His words they thirle like music through my heart. 
 How blythly can he sport, and gently rave, 
 And jest at feckless fears that fright the lave ! 
 Ilk day that he 's alane upon the hill. 
 He reads fell books that teach him meikle skill. 
 He is — but what need I say that or this ? 
 I 'd spend a month to tell you what he is ! 
 In a' he says or does there 's sic a gate. 
 The rest seem coofs compared with my dear Pate ; 
 His better sense will lang his love secure ; 
 Ill-nature heffs in sauls that 's weak and poor. 
 
 SANG V. 
 
 TcNE, 
 
 
 How shall I be sad when a husband I hae. 
 That has better sense than ony of thae 
 Sour, weak, silly fellows, that study, like fools. 
 To sink their ain joy, and make their wives snools! 
 The man who is prudent ne'er lightlies his wife, 
 Or with dull reproaches encourages strife ; 
 He praises her virtue, and ne'er will abuse 
 Her for a small failing, but find an excuse. 
 
 Hey, ' bonny lass of Branksome ! ' or 't be lang. 
 Your witty Pate will put you in a sang ! 
 
107 
 
 't 13 a pleasant thing to bo a brido, 
 Syne whinging getts about your ingle-sido, 
 Yelping for this or that with fiuhoous din ! 
 
 To mak thorn brats then yo maun toil and spin. 
 Ae wean fa's sick, ane scods itself wi' bruc, — 
 Ane breaks his shin, — anither tines his suoe : 
 The ' Dcel gaes o'er John Wabster : ' hame grows hell, 
 When Pate misca's ye waur than tongue can tell. 
 
 Yes, 'tis a hcartsome thing to be a wife, 
 When round the ingle-edge young sprouts arc rife. 
 Gif I'm sae happy, I shall have delight 
 To hear their little plaints, and keep them right. 
 Wow, Jenny ! can there greater pleasure bo. 
 Than see sic wee tots toolying at your knee ; 
 When a' they ettle at, — their greatest wish, — 
 Is to be made of, and obtain a kiss ? 
 Can there bo toil in tenting day and night 
 The like of them, when lovo makes care delight? 
 
 But poortith, Peggy, is the warst of a' ! 
 Gif o'er your heads ill chance should begg'ry draw. 
 But little love or canty cheer can come 
 Frae duddy doublets, and a pantry toom. 
 Y'our nowt may die ; the spate may bear away 
 Frae aff the howns your dainty rucks of hay ; 
 The thiok-blawn wreaths of snaw, or blashy thows. 
 May smoor your wathers, and may rot your ewes ; 
 A dyvour buys your butter, woo, and cheese, 
 But or the day of payment breaks and flees ; 
 With glooman brow the laird seeks in his rent, — 
 'T is no to gie, your merchant 's to the bent ; 
 His honour maunna want, — he poinds your gear ; 
 Syne driven frae house and hald, where will ye 
 Dear Meg, be wise, and lead a single life; [steer? — 
 Troth, 't is nae mows to be a married wife ! 
 
 May sic ill luok befa' that silly sho 
 Wha has sic fears, for that was never me ! 
 Let fowk bode weel, and strive to do their best ; 
 Nae mair 's required, — let Heaven make out the rest. 
 
 1 'vc heard my honest uncle aften say 
 
 That lads should a' for wives that 's virtuous pray ; 
 For the maist thrifty man could never get 
 A well-stored room unless his wife wad let : 
 Wherefore nocht shall be wanting on my part 
 To gather wealth to raise my shepherd's heart. 
 Whate'er ho wins, I '11 guide with canny care. 
 And win the vogue at market, tron, or fair, 
 For halesome, clean, cheap, and suflioient ware. 
 A flock of lambs, cheese, butter, and some woo. 
 Shall first be said to pay the laird his duo ; 
 Syne a' behin's our ain. Thus without fear. 
 With love and rowth we thro' the warld will steer ; 
 And when my Pate in bairns and gear grows rife. 
 He '11 bless tho day he gat me for his wife. 
 
 But what if some young giglet on the green, 
 With dimpled cheeks, and twa bewitching een, 
 
 Should gar your Patio think his half-worn Meg, 
 And her kend kisses, hardly worth a fog ? 
 
 Nao mair of that ! — Dear Jenny, to bo free, 
 There 's some men constanter in lovo than wo. 
 Nor is tho ferly groat, when nature kind 
 Has blest them with solidity of mind ; 
 They '11 reason calmly, nnd with kindness .«milc, 
 When ourshi'it | ;i Imh- wmi] uur peace beguile. 
 Sae, whensor'ii I ;i' . h Ki tii> n nmiks at hunic, 
 'T is ten to ail. i . minaist to blame. 
 
 Then I'll e 
 To keep hii 
 
 hfLTfu', and secure his heart. 
 At e'en, when he comes woary frae the hill, 
 I '11 have a' things made ready to his will. 
 In winter, when he toils thro' wind and rain, 
 A bleezing inglo, and a clean heartli-stane ; 
 And soon as he flings by his plaid and staffs 
 The seething pot's be ready to take aif ; 
 Clean hag-abag I'll spread upon his board. 
 And serve him with the best we can afibrd. 
 Good-humour and white bigonets shall be 
 Guards to my face, to keep his love for mo. 
 
 JESSY. 
 
 A dish of married lovo right soon grows ea 
 And doscns down to nane as fowk grow auUi. 
 
 But we'll grow auld together, and ne'er find 
 The loss of youth, when love grows on the mind. 
 Bairns, and their bairns, make sure a firmer tyo. 
 Than aught in Fovo the like of us can spy. 
 See yon twa elms, that grow up side by side, — 
 Suppose thom some years syne bridegroom and bride ; 
 fearer and nearer ilka year they 'vo prcst, 
 Till wide their spreading branches are increased. 
 And in their mixture now are fully blest ; 
 This shields the other frae the castlin blast ; 
 That in return defends it frao tho west. 
 Sic as stand single, — a state sae liked by you, — 
 Beneath ilk storm frae every airt maun bo r. 
 
 I 'vo done ! I yield, dear lassie ; I maun yi< 
 Your better sense has fairly won the lield, 
 AVith the assistance of a little fae 
 Lies darned within my breast this mony a day. 
 
 SANO vr. 
 TrSE.—' Nancy 's lo tlie green-wood gone.' 
 I yield, dear lassie, you have won. 
 
 And there is nae denying, 
 That sure as light flows frae the sun, 
 Frae love proceeds complying. 
 
 For a' that wo can do or say 
 
 'Gainst love, nao thinker heeds us ; 
 
 They ken our bosoms lodge tho fae. 
 That by the heartstrings leads us. 
 
108 
 
 RURAL POETRY. RAMSAY. 
 
 Alake, poor pris'ner ! Jenny, that's no fair, 
 That ye '11 no let the wie thing take the air. 
 Haste, let him out ! we '11 tent as well 's we can, 
 Gif ye be Bauldy's, or poor Roger's man. 
 
 Anither time 's as good ; for see the sun 
 Is right far up, and we 're no yet begun 
 To freath the graith : if cankered Madge, our aunt, 
 Cume up the burn, she '11 gie 's a wicked rant. 
 But when we 've done, I '11 tell you a' my mind ; 
 For this seems true — nae lass can be unkind. 
 
 A snag thack house ; before the door a gi 
 Hens on the raidding, ducks in dubs are s 
 On this side stands a barn, on thai a byre 
 A peet stack joins, and forms a rural st|u:i 
 The house is Olaud's : there you may see 
 And to his divot seat invite his frien'. 
 
 Good-morrow, nibour Symon ! — Come, sit down. 
 And gie 's your cracks. — What 's a' the news in town ? 
 They tell me ye was in the ither day. 
 And sauld your Crummock, and her bassand quey. 
 I '11 warrant ye 've coft a pound of cut and dry ; 
 Lug out your box, and gie 's a pipe to try. 
 
 With a' my heart ! — And tent me now, auld boy, 
 I 've gathered news will kittle your mind with joy. 
 I con'dna rest till I came o'er the burn, 
 To tell ye things have taken sic a turn 
 Will gar our vile oppressors stend like flaes. 
 And skulk in hidlings on the hether braes. 
 
 Fy, blaw ! — Ah ! Symie, rattling chiels ne'er stand 
 To deck, and spread the grossest lies aff-hand ; 
 Whilk soon flies round, like wild-fire, far and near. 
 But loose your poke, be 't true or fause let 's hear. 
 
 Seeing 's believing. Gland ; and I have seen 
 Hab, that abroad has with our master been ; 
 Our brave good master, wha right wisely fled, 
 And left a fair estate to save bis head ; 
 Because, ye ken fo^ well, he bravely chose 
 To shine or set in glory with Montrose ;• 
 Now Cromwell 's gane to Nick, and ano ca'd Monk 
 Has played the Rumple a right slec begunk, 
 Restored King Charles, and ilka thing 's in tune ; 
 And Habby says, we '11 see Sir William soon. 
 
 CLAUD. 
 
 That makes me blyth indeed ! But dinn 
 Tell o'er your news again, and swear till 't i 
 
 , flaw 
 
 And saw ye Hab ? and what did Halbert say ? 
 They have been e'en a dreary time away. 
 Now God be thanked that our laird's come hame ! 
 And his estate, say, can he eithly claim ? 
 
 They that hag-raid us till our guts did grane. 
 Like greedy bears, dare nae mair do 't again. 
 And good Sir William sail enjoy his ain. 
 
 1 ' To stand his liege's friend 
 Ed. of 1808. 
 
 I great Montrose.' — 
 
 SANG VII. 
 Tone. — 'CauW Kail in Aberdeen.' 
 Cauld be the Rebels cast. 
 
 Oppressors base and bloody, 
 I hope we '11 see them at the last 
 
 Strung a' up in a woody. 
 Blest be he of worth and sense. 
 
 And ever high in station. 
 That bravely stands in the defence 
 
 Of conscience, king, and nation. 
 
 And may he lang, for never did he stent 
 Us in our thriving with a racket rent ; 
 Nor grumbled if ano grew rich, or shor'd to raise 
 Our mailens when we pat on Sunday's claiths. 
 
 Nor wad he lang, with senseless saucy air, 
 Allow our lyart noddles to be bare. 
 ■ Put on your bonnet, Symon ; tak a seat : — 
 How 's all at hame ? — how 's Elspa ? — how dot 
 
 Kate ? — 
 How sells black cattle ? — what gi'es woo this year ' 
 And sic like kindly questions wad he speer. 
 
 SANG VIII. 
 Tone. — ' Mucking of Georiy's biire.' 
 The laird who in riches and honor 
 
 IVad thrive, should be kindly and free, 
 Nor rack the poor tenants who labor 
 
 To rise aboon poverty ; 
 Else, like the pack-horse that 's unfothered 
 
 And burdened, will tumble down faint : 
 Thus virtue by hardships is smothered. 
 
 And raekers aft tine their rent. 
 
 Then wad he gar his butler bring bcdeen 
 The nappy bottle ben, and glasses clean, 
 Whilk in our breast raised sic a blythsome flame. 
 As gart me mony a time gae dancing hame. 
 My heart 's e'en raised ! — Dear nibour, will ye st.iy. 
 And tak your dinner here with me the day ? 
 We '11 send for Elspath too ; and upo' sight 
 I '11 whistle Pate and Roger frae the height. 
 I '11 yoke my sled, and send to the neist town. 
 And bring a draught of ale baith stout and brown ; 
 And gar our cottars a', man, wife, and wean, 
 Drink 'till they tine the gate to stand their lane. 
 
I wadna bauk my friend bis biyth design, 
 Gif tbat it hadna first of a' been iiiiuo : 
 For here yestreen I brewed a bow of muut ; 
 Yestreen I slew twa wethers prime and fat ; 
 A furlet of good cakes my EUi)a beuk, 
 And a large ham hings reesting in the nook ; 
 I saw mysell, or I came o'er the loan, 
 Our meikle pot, that scads the whey, put on, 
 A mutton-bouk to boil, and ane we '11 roast ; 
 And on the haggles Elspa spares nae cost ; 
 Small are they shorn, and she can mix fou nice 
 The gusty ingans with a curn of spice ; 
 Fat are the puddings ; heads and feet well sung ; 
 And wo 've invited nibours auld and young, 
 To pass this afternoon with glee and game, 
 And drink our master's health and welcome hamo : 
 Ye mauna then refuse to join the rest, 
 Since ye 're my nearest friend that I like best* 
 Bring wi' ye all your family ; and then, 
 Whene'er you please, I '11 rant wi' you again. 
 
 Spoke like ye'rscll, auld birky ! Never fear 
 But at your banquet I shall first appear. 
 Faith, we shall bend the bicker, and look bauld, 
 Till we forget that we are failed or auld ! — 
 Auld ! said I, — troth, I 'm younger be a score, 
 With your good news, than what I was before ; 
 I'll dance or e'en! — Ilcy, JIadge ! come forth,, 
 d' ye hear ? 
 
 ENTER MADOE. 
 
 The man 's gane gyto ! — Dear Symon, welcome 
 
 What wad ye, Glaud, with a' this haste and din ? 
 Ye never let a body sit to spin. 
 
 Spin ! Snuff! — Gae break your wheel, and burn 
 And set the meiklcst peatstack in a low ; [your tow, 
 Syno dance about the banc-fire till ye die ; 
 Since now again we '11 soon Sir William see. 
 
 Blyth news indeed ! — And wha was 't tald you o't ? 
 
 GLACO. 
 
 What 's that to you ? — Gae got my Sunday's coat j 
 Wale out the whitest of my bobbit bands. 
 My white-skin hose, and mittens for my hands ; 
 Then frae their washing cry the bairns in haste. 
 And mak ye'rsclls as trig, head, feet, and waist, 
 As ye were a' to get young lads or ecn ; 
 For wo 're gawn o'er to dine with Sym bedeen. 
 
 Do, honest Madge : and, Glaud, I '11 o'er the gate. 
 And see that a' bo dono as I wad hae 't. 
 
 [Exeunt.] 
 
 The open field. 
 
 splifhing 1 
 
 c in a glen ; 
 
 t)ie sunny end. 
 At a small distance, by a blasted tree, 
 With raided arms and half-raised look, ye see 
 
 BACLDT ms LANS. 
 
 What 's this ? — I canna bear 't ! — 't is waur than 
 To be iMie burnt with love, yet darna tell ! [hell, 
 
 Peggy ! sweeter than the dawning day ; 
 Sweeter than gowany glens or new-mawn hay ; 
 BIytlicr than lambs that frisk out o'er the knows ; 
 Straighter than aught that in the forest grows ; 
 Her een the clearest blob of dew outshines ; 
 
 The lily in her breast its beauty tines ; 
 
 Uer legs, her arms, her cheeks, her mouth, her een, 
 
 AVill be my dead, that will be shortly seen ! 
 
 For Pate loocs her, — waes me ! — and she looes Pate j 
 
 And I with Neps, by some unlucky fat©. 
 
 Made a daft vow. 0, but ane be a beast, 
 
 That makes rash aiths till he 's afore the priest ! 
 
 1 darna speak my mind, else a' the three, 
 But doubt, wad prove ilk ane my enemy. 
 
 'T is sair to thole ; — I '11 try some witchcraft art. 
 
 To break with ane, and win the other's heart. 
 
 Here Mausy lives, a witch that for sma' price 
 
 Can cast her cantraips, and gi'e me advice. 
 
 She can o'ercast the night, and cloud the moon. 
 
 And mak the deils obedient to her crune ; 
 
 At midnight hours, o'er the kirk-yard she raves. 
 
 And howks unchristcncd weans out of their graves ; 
 
 Boils up their livers in a warlock's pow ; 
 
 Rins withershins about the hemlock low ; 
 
 And seven times does her prayers backwards pray, 
 
 Till Plotcock comes with lumps of Lapland clay, 
 
 Mi.xt with the venom of black taids and snakes : 
 
 Of this unsonsy pictures aft she makes 
 
 Of ony ane she hates, — and gars expire 
 
 With slow and racking pains afore a fire. 
 
 Stuck fu' of pins ; the devilish pictures melt ; 
 
 The pain by fowk they represent is felt. 
 
 And yonder 's Mnuse : ay, ay, she kens fu' weel. 
 
 When ane like me comes rinning to the deil ! 
 
 She and her cat sit becking in her yard : 
 
 To speak my errand, faith, amaist I 'm feared ! 
 
 But I maun do 't, tho' I should never thrive : 
 
 They gallop fast tbat deils and lasses drive. 
 
 [£x,<.] 
 SCENE III. 
 
 A in-een kail-yard : a little fount. 
 Where water poplin springs ; 
 
 There sits a wife with wrinkled front, 
 And yet she spins and sings. 
 
 
 SANO IX. 
 ' Carle, an tke king c 
 
 Peggy, now the king 's come ! 
 Peggy, now the king 's come ! 
 
 Thou may dance, and I shall sing, 
 Poggy, since tho king's come ! 
 
no 
 
 EURAL POETRY. RAMSAY. 
 
 Nae mair the hawkies shalt thou milk, 
 But change thy plaiden-coat for silk, 
 And be a lady of that ilk,_ 
 
 Now, Peggy, since the king 's come. 
 
 ENTER BAUI 
 
 How does auld honest lucky of the glen ? 
 Ye look baith hale and fair at threescore-ten. 
 
 MAUSE. 
 
 E'en twining out a thread with little din, 
 And beeking my cauld limbs afore the sun. 
 What brings my bairn this gate sae ! 
 Is there nae muck to lead 1 
 
 But when I neist make groats, I '11 strive to please 
 You with a firlot of them mixt with pease. 
 
 I thank ye, lad ! — Now tell me your demand ; 
 And, if I can, I '11 lend my helping hand. 
 
 BiCLDT. 
 
 Then, I like Peggy ; Neps is fond of me ; 
 Peggy likes Pate ; and Patie's bauld and slee. 
 And looes sweet Meg ; but Neps I downa see. 
 Could ye turn Patie's love to Neps, and then 
 Peggy's to me, I 'd be the happiest man. 
 
 I thresh nae c 
 
 Enough of baith : but something that requirei 
 Your helping hand employs now all my cares. 
 
 My helping hand ! alake, what can I do. 
 That underneith baith eild and poortith bow ? 
 
 Ay, but you 're wise, and wiser far than we ; 
 Or maist part of the parish tells a lie. 
 
 MACSE. 
 
 Of what kind wisdom think ye I 'm possest, 
 That lifts my character aboon the rest ? 
 
 The word that gangs, how ye 're sae wise and fell. 
 Ye '11 may be tak it ill gif I should tell. 
 
 What folks say of me, Bauldy, let me hear ; 
 Keep naething up, ye naething have to fear. 
 
 Well, since ye bid me, I shall tell ye a' 
 That ilk ane talks about you, but a flaw. 
 When last the wind made Gland a roofless barn ; 
 When last the burn bore down my mither's yarn ; 
 When Brawny, elf-shot, never mair came hame ; 
 When Tibby kirn'd, and there nae butter came ; 
 When Bessy Freetock's chuflTy-cheeked wean 
 To a fairy turned, and cou'dna stand its lane ; 
 When Wattie wandered ae night thro' the shaw. 
 And tint himsell amaist amang the snaw ; 
 When Mungo's mare stood still and swat wi' fright, 
 When he brought east the howdy under night ; 
 When Bawsy shot to dead upon the green ; 
 And Sara tint a snood was nae mair seen ; — 
 You, lucky, gat the wyle of a' fell out ; 
 And ilka ane here dreacis ye round about, — 
 And say they may that mint to do ye skaith ! ' 
 For me to wrang ye I '11 be very laith ; 
 
 'The pAwers attnni 
 
 to witches, by the hinds and 
 
 I'll try my airt to gar the bowls row right ; 
 Sae gang your ways and come again at night ; 
 'Gainst that time I'll some simple things prepare. 
 Worth all your pease and groats, tak ye nae care. 
 
 BAULDY. 
 
 Well, Manse, I'll come, gif I the road can find ; 
 But if ye raise the deil, he '11 raise the wind ; 
 Syne rain and thunder, may be, when 't is late. 
 Will make the night sae mirk, I'll tine the gate. 
 We 're a' to rant in Symie's at a feast, — 
 0, will ye come, like badrans, for a jest? 
 And there you can our different haviors spy ; 
 There 's nane shall ken o't there but you and I. 
 
 'T is like I may : but let na on what's past 
 ITween you and me, else fear a kittle cast. 
 
 If I aught of your secrets e'er advance. 
 May ye ride on me ilka night to France ! 
 
 [Exit Bauldy. -\ 
 
 This fool imagines, 7^ as do many sic, — 
 That I 'm a witch in compact with Auld Nick, 
 Because by education I was taught 
 To speak and act aboon their common thought : 
 Their gross mistake shall quickly now appear ; 
 Soon shall they ken what brought, what keeps me 
 
 Now since the royal Charles and right 's restored, 
 
 A shepherdess is daughter to a lord. 
 
 The bonny foundling that's brought up by Glaud, 
 
 Wha has an uncle's care on her bestowed, — 
 
 Her infant-life I saved, when a false friend 
 
 Bowed to the usurper, and her death designed. 
 
 To establish him and his in all these plains 
 
 That by right heritage to her pertains. 
 
 She 's now in her sweet bloom, has blood and charms 
 
 Of too much value for a shepherd's arms. 
 
 None know't but me !— And if the morn were come, 
 
 I '11 tell them tales will gar them a' sing dumb.i 
 
 , Slause's soliloquy is given thus : 
 ! when poverty and eiid, 
 1, and a lanely beild, 
 wiles, should, in a twitch, 
 lame, A wrinkled witch ! 
 
 1 In the edition ot 1808, 
 ' Hard luck, alake 
 
PATIE AND PEOOY. 
 
 Pfttie ! let me gang j I mauna stay ; 
 Wo 're baith crjed hame, and Jenny she 'a away. 
 
 I 'm laith to part sae soon ! Now we 're alane ; 
 And Roger ho "s away with Jenny g^no ; 
 They 'ro as content, for aught I hear or sec, 
 To be alane themselves, I judge, as we. 
 Here, where primroses thickest paint the green, 
 Hard by this little burnie let us lean. 
 Uark how the lav'rocks chant aboon our heads ; 
 How saft the westlin winds sough through tho reeds ! 
 
 PEOOV. 
 
 The scented meadows, birds, and healthy breeze, 
 For aught I ken, may mair than Peggy please. 
 
 PiTIB. 
 
 Ye wrang me sair, to doubt my being kind ! 
 In speaking sae, ye ca' me dull and blind, 
 Gif I cou'd fancy aught 's sae sweet or fair 
 As my sweet Meg, or worthy of my care. 
 Thy breath is sweeter than tho sweetest brier ; 
 Thy cheek and breast the finest flow'rs appear ; 
 Thy words excel the maist delightfu' notes 
 That warble through the morlo or mavis' throats. 
 With thee I tent nao flowers that busk the field. 
 Or ripest berries that our mountains yield ; 
 The sweetest fruits that hing upon tho tree 
 Are far inferior to a kiss of thee. 
 
 But Patrick for some wicked end may fleech ; 
 And lambs should tremble when the foxes preach. 
 I darna stay ; ye joker, let me gang ; 
 Or swear ye'U never 'tempt to do me wrang.' 
 
 PATIE. 
 
 Sooner a mother shall her fondness drap. 
 And wrang the bairn sits smiling in her lap ; 
 The sun shall change, the moon to change shall ccaao ; 
 The gaits to climb, the sheep to yield the fleece, 
 Ero aught by mo bo either said or 'doon. 
 Shall do thee wrang ! — 1 swear by all aboon ! 
 
 That I 'm a wretch in compact with Auld Nick ; 
 Because by wlucation I was taught 
 To speal! and act nbrmn their common thought ; 
 Their gross mistake shall quickly now appear ; 
 Soon shall they ken what brought, what keeps mi 
 Nane kens but me ! — And if the morn were corns 
 1 *I1 toll thcni tales will gar them a* eing dumb.' 
 
 Then keep youraith. — Hut mony lads will swear, 
 And bo mansworn to twa in half a-ycar. 
 Now I believe yo like mo wonder wool ; 
 But if anithor lass your heart should steal, 
 Your Meg, forsaken, bootless might relate 
 How she was dautcd anes by faithless Pate. 
 
 PATIE. 
 
 I 'm sure I canna change ; ye needna fear. 
 Though we 're but young, I 'vo looed ye mony a year. 
 I mind it wool, when thou eould'st hardly gang, 
 Or lisp out words, I ehooscd thee froe tho thrang 
 Of a' the bairns, and led thee by tho hand, 
 Aft to the tansy know, or rashy strand ; 
 Thou smiling by my side : — I took delight 
 To pou tho rashes green, with roots sae white, 
 Of which, as well as my young fancy cou'd, 
 For thee I plct the flow'ry belt and snood. 
 
 When first thou gade with shepherds to the hill. 
 And I to milk the ewes first tryed my skill, 
 To bear a leglin was nao toil to me, 
 When at tho bught at e'en I met with thee. 
 
 PATIE. 
 
 When corns grew yellow, and the heathorbells 
 Bloomed bonny on tho moor and rising fells, 
 Nae birns, or briers, or whins e'er troubled mo, 
 Gif I could find blae-berries ripe for thee. 
 
 PEOGT. 
 
 When thou didst wrestle, run, or putt tho stane. 
 And wan tho day, my heart was flightering fain ; 
 At all these sports thou still gave joy to me. 
 For nano can wrestle, run, or putt with theo. 
 
 Jenny sings saft the ' Broom of Cowdenknows ;' 
 And Kosie lilts the ' Milking of the Ewes j' 
 There's nane like Nancy 'Jenny Nettles' sings ; 
 At turns in ' Maggy Lawdcr' Marion dings ; 
 But when my Peggy sings, with sweeter skill, 
 ' The Boatman,' or ' The Lass of Patio's Mill,' — 
 It is a thousand times mair sweet to me ; 
 Tho' they sing well, they canna sing like thoe ! 
 
 How eith can lasses trow what wo desire ! 
 And, rces'd by them we love, blaws up the fire ; 
 But wha loves host let time and carriage try ; 
 Bo constant, and my lovo shall time defy ; 
 Be still as now, and a' my care shall be, 
 How to contrivo what pleasant is for tliee. 
 
 SANG -X. 
 TcNB. — 'fFinter was cautd, and my ctaithing was thin.' 
 
 PEOOY. 
 
 When first my dear laddie gado to tho green hill, 
 And I at ewe-milking first sey'd my young skill. 
 To bear the milk-bowio no pain was to mo, 
 I When I at the bughting forgathered with thee. 
 
112 
 
 RURAL POETRT. RAMSAY. 
 
 When oorn-riggs waved yellow, and blue hether- 
 
 bells 
 Bloomed bonny on moorland and sweet rising fells, 
 Nae birns, brier, or breckens, gave trouble to me, 
 If I found the berries right ripened for thee. 
 
 When thou ran, or wrestled or putted the stane, 
 And came off the victor, my heart was ay fain ; 
 Thy ilka sport manly gave pleasure to me ; 
 For nane can putt, wrestle, or run swift as thee. 
 
 Our Jenny sings saftly the ' Cowden broom knows;' 
 And Rosie lilts swiftly the ' Milking the Ewes ;' 
 There's few 'Jenny Nettles' like Nancy can sing ; 
 At ' Throw the wood, laddie,' Bess gars our lugs ring ; 
 
 But when my dear Peggy sings, with better skill, 
 ' The Boatman,' ' Tweed-side,' or ' The Lass of the 
 'T is mony times sweeter and pleasing to me ; [Mill,' 
 For though they sing nicely, they canna like thee ! 
 
 How easy can lasses trow what they desire ! 
 And praises sae kindly increases love's fire ; 
 Give me still this pleasure, my study shall be 
 To make myself better and sweeter for thee. 
 
 Wert thou a giglit gawky like the lave. 
 That little better than our nowt behave ; 
 At naught they '11 ferly, senseless tales believe. 
 Be blyth for silly hechts, for trifles grieve ; 
 Sic ne'er cou'd win my heart, that kenna how 
 Either to keep a prize, or yet prove true. 
 But thou in better sense without a flaw. 
 As in thy beauty, far excels them a'. 
 Continue kind, and a' my care shall be 
 How to contrive what pleasing is for thee. 
 
 Agreed ! — But hearken, yon 's auld aunty's cry, 
 I ken they '11 wonder what can make us stay. 
 
 And let them ferly ! — Now a kindly kiss. 
 Or fivescore good anes wad not be amiss ; 
 And syne we'll sing the sang with tunefu' glee, 
 That I made up last owk on you and mo. 
 
 Sing first ; syne claim your hyro. 
 Well, I agree ! 
 
 By the delicious warmness of thy mouth, 
 And rowing eye that smiling tolls the truth, 
 I guess, my lassie, that, as well as I, 
 Ye 're made for love, and why should ye deny ? 
 
 PEGGT. 
 
 But ken ye, lad, gif we confess o'er soon. 
 Ye think us ch^ap, and syne the wooing 's done : 
 The maiden that o'er quickly tines her power. 
 Like unripe fruit will taste but hard and sour. 
 
 But gin they hing o'er lang upon the tree. 
 Their sweetness they may tine, and sae may ye ; 
 Red-cheeked ye completely ripe appear. 
 And I have thol'd and woo'd a lang half-year. 
 
 PEOGT ifalUng into Patie's arms). 
 Then dinna pu' me, gently thus I fa' 
 Into my Patie's arms for good and a'. 
 But stint your wishes to this kind embrace. 
 And mint nae farther till we 've got the grace. 
 PAxre {witk /lis left hand about her waist). 
 
 charming armfu' ! — Hence ye cares away, 
 
 1 '11 kiss my treasure a' the live lang day : 
 All night I '11 dream my kisses o'er again. 
 Till that day come that ye '11 be a' my ain. 
 
 Sun, gallop down the westlin skies. 
 Gang soon to bed, and quickly rise ; 
 lash your steeds, post time away. 
 And haste about our bridal-day ; 
 And if you 'i-e wearied, honest light. 
 Sleep, gin ye like, a week that night. 
 
 [Curtain falls, while they kiss.'] 
 
 Now turn your eves beyond yon spreading lim 
 And tent a man whase beard seems bleached v 
 Ane elwand fills his hand, his habit mean, 
 Nae doubt ye '11 think he has a pedler been ; - 
 
 That comts, hid in this cloud, to see his lad. 
 Ol.seive h..«- pleased the loyal suff'rer moves 
 Thro' his auld av'nues, anes delighttu' groves. 
 
 
 
 
 SIR WILLIAM solus. 
 
 The gentleman thus hid in low disguis 
 I '11 for a space, unknown, delight mine eyes 
 With a full view of ev'ry fertile plain. 
 Which once I lost, which now are mine again. 
 Yet, 'midst my joy, some prospects pain renew. 
 Whilst I my once fair seat in ruins view. 
 Yonder, ah me ! it desolately stands, — 
 Without a roof ; the gates fall'n from their bands; 
 The casements all broke down ; no chimney left ; 
 The naked walls of tapestry all bereft. 
 My stables and pavilions, broken walls. 
 That with each rainy blast decaying falls ; 
 My gardens once adorned the most complete. 
 With all that nature, all that art makes sweet ; 
 Where round the figured green and pebble-walks 
 The dewy fiow'rs hung nodding on their stalks ; 
 
SPRING — MAY. 
 
 113 
 
 But overgrown with Dcttlea, docks, and brior, 
 No hyacinths or oghintines appear.* 
 Hero failed and broke 's the rising ample shade. 
 Where peach and neot'rino trees their branches 
 
 spread. 
 Basking in rays, and early did produce 
 Fruit fair to view, deliglitful to the use. 
 All round in gaps the walls in ruin lye, 
 And from what stands the withered branches fly. 
 These soon shall be repaired : — and now my joy 
 Forbids all grief, when I 'm to see my boy, — 
 My only prop, and object of my care, 
 Since Ueav'n too soon called homo his mother fair. 
 Him, ere the rays of reason cleared his thought, 
 I secretly to faithful Symon brought. 
 And charged him strictly to conceal his birth, 
 Till we should see what changing times brought 
 
 forth. 
 Hid from himself, he starts up by the dawn. 
 And ranges careless o'er the height and lawn. 
 After his fleecy charge serenely gay, 
 With other shepherds whistling o'er the day. 
 Thrice happy life ! that's from ambition free, 
 Removed from crowns, and courts, how cheerfully, 
 A calm, contented mortal spends bis time. 
 In hearty health, his soul unstained with crime ! 
 
 TCNE. ■ 
 
 ' Happy ( 
 
 Hid from himself, now by the dawn 
 He starts as fresh as roses blawn. 
 And ranges o'er the heights and lawn, 
 
 After his bleating flocks. 
 Healthful, and innocently gay. 
 Ho chaunts and whistles out the day ; 
 Untaught to smile and then betray, 
 
 Like courtly weathercocks. 
 
 Life happy, from ambition free, 
 Eni-y, and vile hypocri-sy. 
 When truth and love with joy agree, 
 Unsullied with a crime : 
 
 Unmoved with what disturbs the great. 
 In propping of their pride and state. 
 Ho lives, and, unafraid of fate. 
 Contented spends his time. 
 
 Now tow'rds good Symon's house I '11 bend my way. 
 And see what makes yon gamboling to-day. 
 All on the green, in a fair wanton ring. 
 My youthful tenants gayly dance and sing. 
 
 [£x,/.] 
 > The edition of 1808 reads here : 
 
 * No jaccacinths or eglantines appear. 
 How do these ample walls lo ruin yield. 
 Where peach and nect'rine branches found a bield. 
 And basked in rays, which early did produce 
 Fruit fair to view, delightful In the use ! 
 All round in gaps, the roost in rubbish lie. 
 And from what stands the withered branches fly.' 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 T is Symon's house, please lo step in, 
 
 And visy 't round and round -, 
 There 's naught superfluous to give pain, 
 
 Or costly to he found. > 
 Vet, all iH clean ; a clear {wat ingle 
 
 Glances iiniWst the floor ; 
 The green hi)rii-»i«H)ns, beech-luggles mingle, 
 
 On skelfs forgainst the door. 
 While the young lirood siK>rt on the green, 
 
 The auld uties think it Iwst 
 With the brown cow lo clear their een, 
 
 Soufr, crack, and take their rest. 
 
 SVIION, GLAUD, AMD EL9PA. 
 
 Wei 
 
 I young oursclls ! — I like to i 
 
 The bairns bob round with other merrylio. 
 Troth, Symon, Patie 's grown a strapan lad, 
 And better looks than his I never bade ! 
 /Vmang our lads he bears the grco awa'. 
 And tells his tale the clev'rcst of them a*. 
 
 Poor man ! he's a great comfort to us baith. 
 God make him good, and hide him aye frae skaith ! 
 Ho is a bairn, — I'll say 't, — well-worth our care, 
 That gae us ne'er vexation late or air. 
 
 I trow, good wife, if I be not mistane. 
 He seems to be with Peggy's beauty tanc. 
 And troth my niece is a right dainty wean. 
 As ye well ken ; a bonnyer needna be. 
 Nor better, be 't she were nae kin to me. 
 
 Ha, Glaud, I doubt that ne'er will be a match ! 
 My Patie 's wild, and will be ill to catch ; 
 And or he were — for reasons I '11 no tell — 
 I 'd rather bo mixt with the mools mysell. 
 
 What reasons can ye have ? — There 's nano, I *m 
 Unless ye may cast up that she 's but poor. [sure. 
 But gif the lassie marry to my mind, 
 I '11 bo to her as my ain Jenny kind : 
 Fourscore of breeding ewes of my ain birn, — 
 Five kye that at ao milking fills a kirn,— 
 I '11 gio to Peggy that day she 's a brido 
 By and attour, if my good luck abide. 
 Ten lambs at spaining time as lang 's I live. 
 And twa quey cawfs I '11 yearly to them give. 
 
 ELSPA. 
 
 Ye offer fair, kind Glaud ; but dinna spoer 
 ^Vhat may be is not fit yo yet should hear. 
 
 Or this day eight days, likely, he shall leam. 
 That our denial disna slight his bairn. 
 
 We'll nao mair o't? — Come, gies the other bend. 
 We'll drink their healths, whatever may it end. 
 
 [Their healths <jae round.] 
 
114 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 But will ye tell me, Glaud ? — By some, 't is said, 
 Tour niece is but a fundling, that was laid 
 Down at your hallon-side ae morn in May, 
 Right clean roVd up, and bedded on dry hay. 
 
 That clattern Madge, my titty, tells sic flaws. 
 Whene'er our Meg her cankart humor gaws ! 
 Enter JENNY. 
 
 father, there is an old man on the green. 
 The fellest fortune-teller e'er was seen ! 
 
 He tents our loofs, and syne whops out a book. 
 Turns owre the leaves, and gies our brows a look ; 
 Syne tells the oddest tales that e'er ye heard. 
 His head is gray, and lang and gray his beard. 
 
 Gae bring him in, we 'II hear what he can say, 
 Nane shall gang hungry by my house to-day. 
 
 [Exit Jenny. -[ 
 But for his telling fortunes, troth, I fear 
 He kens nae mair of that than my gray mare ! 
 
 Spae-men ! the truth of a' their saws I doubt. 
 For greater liars never ran thereout. 
 
 Reenter Jenny, bringing in Sir William ; Patie 
 following. 
 
 Ye 're welcome, honest carle ! — Here tak a seat. 
 
 1 give you thanks, good man, I 'so no be blate. 
 
 GLACD (drinks). 
 Come, t' ye, friend ! — How far came ye the day 7 
 
 SIR WILLIAM. 
 
 I pledge ye, nibour ! — E'en but little way : 
 Rousted with eild, a wie piece gate seems lang ; 
 Twa miles or three 's the maist that I do gang. 
 
 Ye 're welcome here to stay all night with me, 
 And tak sic bed and board as we can gie. 
 
 SIR ^VILLIAM. 
 
 That 's kind unsought ! — Well, gin ye have a bairn 
 That ye like well, and wad his fortune learn, 
 I shall employ the farthest of my skill 
 To spae it faithfully, be 't good or ill. 
 SYMON (pointing to Patie). 
 
 Only that lad. — Alack ! I have nae mae. 
 Either to make me joyful now or wao. 
 
 Young man, let 's see your hand. 
 
 -What 
 
 ■ skill 's but little worth, I fear. 
 
 Ye cut before the point ! — But, billy, bido, 
 I '11 wager there 's a mouse-mark on your side. 
 
 Betoooh-us-too ! And well I wat that 's true : 
 Awa ! awa ! the deil 's owre grit wi' you. 
 Four inch aneath 'his oxter is the mark. 
 Scarce ever seen since he first wore a sark. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM. 
 
 I 'II tell ye mair : if this young lad be spared 
 But a short while, he '11 be a braw rich laird. 
 
 A laird ! — Hear ye, goodman, what think ye now ? 
 
 I dinna ken * — Strange auld man, what art thou ? 
 Fair fa' your heart, 't is good to bode of wealth ! — 
 Come turn the timmer to laird Patio's health. 
 
 [Patie's health gaes round.'\ 
 
 A laird of twa good whistles and a kent, — 
 Twa curs, my trusty tenants on the bent, — 
 Is all my great estate, and like to be : 
 Sae, cunning carle, ne'er break your jokes on me ! 
 
 SYMON. 
 
 Whisht, Patie, let the man look ow'r your hand ; 
 
 Aftymes as broken a ship has come to land. 
 
 [Sir William looks a little at Patie's hand, then coun- 
 terfeits falling into a trance, while they endeavor to 
 lay him right.'] 
 
 ELSPA. 
 
 Preserve 's ! — the man 's a warlock, or possest 
 With some nae good, or second-sight at least ! 
 Where is he now ? 
 
 He 's seeing a' that 's done 
 In ilka place beneath or yont the moon. 
 
 These second-sighted fowks — his peace be here ! — 
 See things far aflf, and things to come, as clear. 
 As I can see my thumb ! — Wow ! can he tell — 
 Speer at' him soon as he comes to himsell — 
 How soon we'll see Sir William ? — 'Whisht, he 
 
 heaves. 
 And speaks out broken words like ane that raves. 
 
 He 'II soon grow better. — Elspa, haste ye, gae 
 And fill him up a tass of usquebae. 
 
 SIR wiLLUM (starts up and speaks). 
 A knight that for a lion fought. 
 
 Against a herd of bears. 
 Was to lang toil and trouble brought. 
 
 In which some thousands shares : 
 But now again the lion rares. 
 
 And joy spreads o'er the plain ; 
 The lion has defeat the bears. 
 
 The knight returns again. 
 That knight in a few days shall bring 
 
 A shepherd frae the fauld. 
 And shall present him to the king, 
 
 A subject true and bauld ; 
 
SPRING — MAT. 
 
 115 
 
 He Mr. Patrick shall bo called : — 
 
 All you that hoar mo now 
 May well believo what I Inuo liM, 
 
 For it shall happen true. 
 
 Friend, may your spacing happen soon and wool ! 
 But, faith, I 'm redd you 'vo bargained with the deil, 
 To tell some tales that fowks wad secret keep ; 
 Or do you got them tald you in your sleep ? 
 
 Howo'or I get them never fash your beard ; 
 Nor come I to redd fortunes for reward ; 
 But I '11 lay ten to ano with ony here, 
 That all I prophesy shall soon appear. 
 
 You prophesying fowks arc odd kind men ! — 
 They 'ro here that ken, and here that disna ken 
 The wimpled meaning of your unco tale, 
 AVhilk soon will mak a noise o'er moor and dale. 
 
 T is nae sma' sport to hear how Sym believes, 
 And takes 't for gospel what the spae-man gives 
 Of flawing fortunes, whilk he evens to Pato : 
 But what wo wish wo trow at ony rate. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM. 
 
 Whisht, doubtfu' carlo ; for ere tho sun 
 
 lias driven twice down to the sea. 
 What I have said ye shall see done 
 In part, or nae mair credit mo. 
 cla™. 
 Well, be 't sae, friend ! — I shall say nathing mair. 
 But I 've twa sonsy lasses, young and fair. 
 Plump, ripe for men : I wish ye oou'd foresee 
 Sic fortunes for them might bring joy to mo. 
 
 Nae mair thro' secrets can I sift, 
 
 Till darkness black the bent ; 
 I have but anes a day that gift, 
 
 Sae rest a while content. 
 
 SYMOS. 
 
 Elspa, cast on the claith, fetch butt some moat. 
 And of your best gar this auld stranger oat. 
 
 SW WILLIAM. , 
 
 Delay a while your hospitable care ; 
 I 'd rather enjoy this evening calm and fair, 
 Around yon ruined tower to fetch a walk. 
 With you, kind friend, to have some private talk. 
 
 Soon as you please I '11 answer your desire : — • 
 And, Glaud, you'll tak your pipe beside the fire ; 
 We '11 but gao round tho place, and soon be back, 
 Syno sup together, and tak our pint and crack. 
 
 I'll out a while, and see the young anes play ; 
 My heart's still light, albeit my looks bo gray. 
 
 lExeunl.] 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 AND JENNY. 
 
 Dear Jenny, I wad speak t' ye, wad ye let ; 
 And yet I ergh, ye 'ro ay sae scomfu' sot. 
 
 And what would Roger say, if he could speak ? 
 Am I obliged to guess what ye 'ro to seek 7 
 aooea. 
 
 Yes, ye may guess right eith for what I groin, 
 Baith by my service, sighs, and langing een ; 
 And I maun out wi't, tho' I risk your scorn, 
 Ye 'ro never frao my thoughts baith e'en and morn. 
 Ah ! could I looe ye loss, I 'd happy bo ; 
 But happier far, could ye but fancy me ! 
 
 And wha kens, honest lad, but that I may ? 
 Yo canna say that e'er I said ye nay. 
 
 Alake ! my frighted heart begins to fail. 
 Whene'er I mint to tell ye out my tale. 
 For fear some tighter lad, mair rich than I, 
 Has win your love, and near your heart may lie. 
 
 JEXST. 
 
 I looo my father, cousin Meg I love ; 
 But to this day nao man my heart cou'd move. 
 Except my kin, ilk lad 's alike to mo. 
 And frae yo a' I best had keep mo free. 
 
 How lang, dear Jenny ? — sayna that again ; 
 What pleasure can yo tak in giving pain ? 
 I 'm glad, however, that ye yet stand free ; 
 Wha kens but yo may rue, and pity me ? 
 
 Yo have my pity else, to see you set 
 On that whilk makes our sweetness soon forget. 
 Wow ! but we 'ro bonny, good, and everything ! 
 llow sweet we breathe whene'er we kiss or sing ! 
 But we 'ro nae sooner fools to give consent. 
 Than wo our daffin and tint power repent ; 
 When prisoned in four wa's, a wife right tamo, 
 Altho' tho first, tho greatest drudge at hame. 
 
 That only happens when for sake of gear 
 Ane wales a wife, as ho would buy a mare ; 
 Or when dull parents bairns together bind 
 Of different tempers, that can ne'er prove kind ; 
 But love, true downright love, engages me, 
 Tho' thou should scorn, still to delight in thoe. 
 
116 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 What sugared words frae wooers' lips can fa' 
 But girning marriage comes and ends them a'. 
 I 've seen with shining fair the morning rise, 
 And soon the sleety clouds mirk a' the skies ; 
 I 've seen the silver spring a while rin clear, 
 And soon in mossy puddles disappear ; 
 The bridegroom may rejoice, the bride may sm 
 But soon contentions a' their joys beguile. 
 
 I 've seen the morning rise with fairest light, 
 The day unclouded sink in calmest night ; 
 I 've seen the spring rin wimpling thro' the plain, 
 Increase and join the ocean without stain ; 
 The bridegroom may be blyth, the bride may smile. 
 Rejoice thro' life, and all your fears beguile. 
 
 "Were I but sure ye lang would love maintain. 
 The fewest words my easy heart could gain ; 
 For I maun own, — since now at last you 're free, — 
 Altho' I joked, I loved your company ; 
 And ever had a warmness in my breast. 
 That made ye dearer to me than the rest. 
 
 I *m happy now ! o'er happy ! had my head ! — 
 This gush of pleasure 's like to be my dead. 
 Come to my arms ! — or strike me ! — I 'm all fired 
 With wond'ring love ! — Let 's kiss till we be tired. 
 Kiss ! kiss ! — we '11 kiss the sun and starns away. 
 And ferly at the quick return of day. 
 Jenny ! let my arms about thee twine, 
 And briz thy bonny breast and lips to mine. 
 
 \_They embrace.] 
 
 SANQ xni. 
 
 E. — ' Leith Wynd: 
 
 Were I assured you '11 constant prove. 
 
 You should nae mair complain ; 
 The easy maid beset with love. 
 
 Few words will quickly gain : 
 For I must own now, since you're free, 
 
 This too fond heart of mine 
 Has lang, a black-sole true to thee. 
 
 Wished to be paired with thine. 
 
 I 'm happy now ! Ah ! let my head 
 
 Upon thy breast recline ; 
 The pleasure strikes me near-hand dead ! - 
 
 Is Jenny then sae kind ? — 
 let me briz thee to my heart. 
 
 And round my arms entwine. 
 Delytfu' thought ! we '11 never part ; 
 
 Come, press thy mouth to mine. 
 
 With equal joy my safter heart does yield. 
 To own thy well-tryed love has won the field.' 
 Now by these warmest kisses thou hast ta'en. 
 Swear thus to love me when by vows made an( 
 
 I swear by fifty thousand yet to come, — ■ 
 Or may the first ane strike me deaf and dumb, — 
 There shall not be a kindlier dawted wife. 
 If you agree with me to lead your life ! 
 
 Well, I agree ! — neist to my parent gae. 
 Get his consent, he '11 hardly say ye nae. 
 Ye have what will commend ye to him weel, 
 Auld fowks like them that want na milk and meal. 
 
 SANG xrv. 
 
 TtiSE. — ' O^er Bogie.'' 
 
 Well, I agree, ye 're sure of me ; 
 
 Nest to my father gae ; 
 Make him content to give consent ; 
 
 He '11 hardly say ye nae. 
 For ye have what he wad be at. 
 
 And will commend you weel ; 
 Since parents auld think love grows cauld, 
 
 Where bairns want milk and meal. 
 
 
 Should he deny. 
 
 He 'd contradict in vain ; 
 Tho' a' my kin had said and sworn. 
 
 But thee I will have nane. 
 Then never range, nor learn to change 
 
 Like those in high degree ; 
 And if you faithful prove in love, 
 
 You'll find nae faut in me. 
 
 My faulds contain twice fifteen farrow nowt ; 
 As mony newcal in my byers rowt ; 
 Five pack of woo I can at Lammas sell, 
 Shorn from my bob-tailed bleeters on the fell ; 
 Good twenty pair of blankets for our bed. 
 With meikle care my thrifty mither made ; 
 Ilk thing that makes a heartsome house and tight. 
 Was still her care, my father's great delight. 
 They left me all, which now gies joy to me, 
 Because I can give a', my dear, to thee. 
 And had I fifty times as meikle mair, 
 Nane but my Jenny should the samen skair ; 
 My love and all is yours ; now had them fast. 
 And guide them as ye like to gar them last. 
 
 I '11 do my best : but see wha comes this way, — 
 Patie and Meg ! — Besides, I mauna stay. 
 
 1 ' With equal joy my easy heart gives way, 
 To own thy well-tried love has won the day.' 
 
 Edition O/1808. 
 
SPRING — MAY. 
 
 117 
 
 Let 's steal frao ither now, and moot the morn ; 
 If wo bo seen, wo '11 drco a deal of scorn. 
 
 To whore the saugh-troo shades the monnin pool, 
 
 I '11 frao the hill come down when day grows cool. 
 
 Keep tryst, and meet m© there ; there let us meet, 
 
 To kiss and tell our loves ; there's naught so sweet! 
 
 lExeunt.] 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM AND SVMOS. 
 SIR WILLIAM. 
 
 To whom belongs this house so much decayed ? 
 
 To ane that lost it, lending gen'rous aid 
 To bear the head up, when rebellious tail, 
 Against the laws of nature, did prevail. 
 Sir William Worthy is our master's name, 
 Whilk fills us all with joy, now he's come hamo. 
 
 (Sir WllUam arnps hfs masking beard ; 
 
 SymoD, transported, sees 
 The welcome knight, with fond regard. 
 
 And grasps him round the knees.) 
 
 My master ! my dear master ! — do I breathe, 
 Tu see him healthy, strong, and free frae skaith. 
 Returned to cheer his wishing tenants' sight, — 
 To bless his son, my charge, the world's delight ! 
 
 1 my arms enjoy 
 tlisin of my boy ! 
 
 Rise, faithful Pyrann ; 
 A place thy fliir, kin^ j; 
 
 And am cnTitii iiir>l tli\ - iurt liiis been wise ; 
 
 Since still tli.- <r, rri tin u -t -..■urely sealed, 
 And ne'er to him his real birth revealed. 
 
 STMON. 
 
 The due obedience to your strict command 
 Was the first lock ; neist my ain judgment fand 
 Out reasons plenty ; since, without estate, 
 A youth, though sprung frae kings, looks bauch 
 and blate. 
 
 And aften vain nnil idly spend their time. 
 Till grown unfit for action, pat^t their prime, 
 Hang on their friends ; which gics their sauls a cast, 
 That turns them downright beggars at the last. 
 
 Now wecl I wat, sir, you have spoken true ! 
 For there 's laird Kytie's son, that 's loo'd by few ; 
 His father steght his fortune in his wame. 
 And left his heir naught but a gentle name. 
 He gangs about sonan frao place to place. 
 As scrimpt of manners as of sense and grace ; 
 
 Oppressing a', as punishment o' their sin, 
 That are within his tenth degree of kin ; 
 Rins in ilk trader's debt wha 's sao unjust 
 To his ain family as to give him trust. 
 
 Such useless branches of a commonwealth 
 Should be lopt off, to give a stato mair health : 
 Unwortliy bare reflection ! — Symon, run 
 O'er all your observations on my son ; 
 A parent's fondness easily finds excuse ; 
 But do not, with indulgence, truth abuse. 
 
 SVMOS. 
 
 To speak his praise, the langest simmer day 
 'Wad be owro short, could I thorn right display. 
 In word and deed ho can sao well behave. 
 That out of sight ho rins before the lave ; 
 And when there 's e'er a quarrel or contest, 
 Patrick 's made judge, to tell whase cause is best ; 
 And his decreet stands good — he '11 gar it stand ; 
 Wha dares to grumble finds his correcting hand ; 
 With a firm look, and a commanding way, 
 Ho gars the proudest of our herds obey. 
 
 Your tale much pleases : — My good friend, pro- 
 ^Vhat learning has he ? Can ho write and road ? 
 
 Baith wonder weel ; for, troth, I didna spare 
 To gio him at the school enough of lear ; 
 And ho delights in books. Ho reads and speaks, 
 With fowks that ken them, Latin words and Greeks. 
 
 SIR WILLIiM. 
 
 Where gets he books to read, and of what kind ? — 
 Tho' some give light, some blindly lead the blind. 
 
 Whene'er he drives our sheep to Edinburgh port, 
 He buys some books of history, snngs, or sport. 
 Nor does ho want of them a rowth at will, 
 And carries ay a poucbfu' to tho hill. 
 About ane Shakespear and a famous Ben 
 Ho aflon speaks, and ca's them best of men. 
 How sweetly Hawthornden and Stirling sing. 
 And ane caw'd Cowley, loyol to his king, 
 Ho kens fou weel, and gars their verses ring. 
 I sometimes thought that ho made o'er groat fraso 
 About fine poems, histories, and plays : 
 When I reproved him anos, a book ho brings, — 
 • With this,' quoth he, ' on braes I crack with 
 kings ! ' 
 
 He answered well. And much ye glad my cor, 
 When such accounts I of my shepherd hear : 
 Reading such books can raise a peasant's mind 
 Above a lord's that is not thus inclined. 
 
 What ken we bettor that sao sindlc look, 
 Except on rainy Sundays, on a book ? 
 
118 
 
 RURAL POETRY. RAMSAY. 
 
 When we a leaf or twa haf read, haf spell, 
 Till a' the rest sleep round as weel 's oursell. 
 
 Well jested, Symon ! — But one question more 
 I '11 only ask you now, and then give o'er. 
 The youth 's arrived the age when little loves 
 Flighter around young hearts like cooing doves : 
 Has nae young lassie with inviting mien 
 And rosy cheek, the wonder of the green, 
 Engaged his look, and caught his youthfu' heart? 
 
 I feared the warst, hut ken'd the smallest part ; 
 Till late I saw him twa three times mair sweet 
 With Gland's fair niece than I thought right or meet. 
 I had my fears, but now have naught to fear. 
 Since like yourself your son will soon appear ; 
 A gentleman, enriched with all these charms, 
 May bless the fairest best-born ladies' arms. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM. 
 
 This night must end his unambitious fire. 
 When higher views shall greater thoughts inspire. 
 Go, Symon, bring him quickly here to me ; 
 None but yourself shall our first meeting see. 
 Yonder 's my horse and servants nigh at hand ; 
 They come just at the time I gave command ; 
 Straight in my own apparel I '11 go dress ; 
 Now ye the secret may to all confess. 
 
 With how much joy I on this errand flee, 
 There 's nane can know that is not downright me ! 
 [Exit Symon.'] 
 sm WILLIAM solus. 
 Whene'er the event of hope's success appears, 
 One happy hour cancels the toil of years ; 
 A thousand toils are lost in Lethe's stream, 
 And cares evanish like a morning dream ; 
 When wished for pleasures rise like morning light, 
 The pain that 's past enhances the delight. 
 These joys I feel, that words can ill express, 
 I ne'er had known, without my late distress. 
 But from his rustic business and love 
 I must in haste my Patrick soon remove 
 To courts and camps that may his soul improve. 
 Like the rough diamond, as it leaves the mine, 
 
 Only in little breakings show its light. 
 Till artful polishing has made it shine, — 
 Thus education makes the genius bright. 
 
 SANG XV. 
 Tune. — ' Wat ye wha 1 met yestreen P 
 Now from rusticity and love. 
 
 Whose flames but over lowly burn, 
 My gentle shepherd must be drove, 
 
 His soul must take another turn. 
 As the rough diamond from the mine 
 
 In breaking only shows its light. 
 Till polishing has made it shine, — 
 
 Thus learning makes the genius bright. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 ACT IV. — SCENE I. 
 
 Our laird 's come hame ! — And owns young Pate 
 his heir. 
 
 That 's news indeed ! 
 
 As true as ye stand there ! 
 
 As they were dancing a' in Symon's yard. 
 
 Sir William, like a warlock, with a beard 
 
 Five nieves in length, and white as driven snaw, 
 
 Amang us came, eryed, ' Haud ye merry a' ! ' 
 
 We ferlyed meikle at his unco look. 
 
 While frae his pouch he whirled forth a book ; 
 
 As we stood round about him on the green, 
 
 He viewed us a', but fixed on Pate his een ; 
 
 Then pawkily pretended he could spae. 
 
 Yet for his pains and skill wad naething hae. 
 
 Then sure the lasses, and ilk gaping coof. 
 Wad rin about him, and had out their loof ! 
 
 MADGE. 
 
 As fast as fleas skip to the tate of woo, 
 Whilk slee tod-lowrie bads without his mow. 
 When he to drown them, and his hips to cool, 
 In simmer days slides backward in a pool ! 
 In short, he did for Pate braw things foretell, 
 Without the help of conjuring or spell. 
 At last, when well-diverted, he withdrew, 
 Pou'd aff his beard to Symon ; — Symon knew 
 His welcome master ; — round his knees he gat, 
 Hang at his coat, and syne for blythness grat. 
 Patrick was sent for : — happy lad is he ! — 
 Symon tald Elspa ; Elspa tald it me. 
 Ye '11 hear out a' the secret story soon. 
 And troth 't is e'en right odd, when a' is done, 
 To think how Symon ne'er afore wad tell, — 
 Na, no sae meikle as to Pate himsell ! 
 Our Meg, poor thing, alake ! has lost her jo. 
 
 It may be sae, wha kens ? And may be no. 
 To lift a love that 's rooted is great pain : 
 E'en kings have tane a queen out of the plain ; 
 And what has been before may be again. 
 
 Sic nonsense ! Love tak root, but tocher-good, 
 'Tween a herd's bairn and ane of gentle blood ! 
 Sic fashions in King Bruce's days might be, 
 But sicoan ferlies now we never see. 
 
 Gif Pate forsakes her, Bauldy she may gain ; 
 Yonder he comes ! And vow ! but he looks fain ; 
 Nae doubt he thinks that Peggy's now his ain. 
 
SPRING — MAT. 
 
 119 
 
 Ho get her ! sloverin doof ! it sets him well 
 To yoke a plough wliero Patriclt thought to till ! 
 Gif I were Mog, I 'd let young master see — 
 
 Ye 'd be as dorty in your ehoico as he ; 
 And so wad I ! — liut whisht ! here Bauldy comes. 
 
 Jocky sold to Jenny, Jenny wilt thou do 't ? 
 Xc'er a fit, quoth Jenny, for my tocher-good, — 
 For ray tocher-good I winna marry thee ! 
 E'en's ye like, quoth JoCky, yo may lot it bo ! 
 
 We liltct, Bauldy, that 's a dainty sang. 
 
 I 'II gie ye 't a' — 't is better than 't is laug ! 
 
 (Sinijs aijain.) 
 I hae gowd and gear ; I hae land 'eneugb ; 
 I have seven good owsen ganging in a pleugh, — 
 Ganging in a plcugh, and linkan o'er the lee ; 
 And gin ye winna tak me, I can let ye be. 
 
 I hae a good ha* house, a barn, and a byer, — 
 A peat-stack 'fore the door, will mak a rantin fire: 
 I'll mak a rantin fire, and merry sail we be : 
 And gin ye winna tak me, I can let ye be. 
 
 Jenny said to Jocky, gin ye winna tell, 
 Te sail be the lad, I 'II be the lass mysell ; 
 Ye 're a bonny lad, and I 'm a lassie free ; 
 Ye 're welcomcr to tak me than to let me be. 
 
 I trow sae ! Lasses will come to at last, 
 Tho' for a while they maun their snaw-baws cast. 
 
 MiCSE. 
 
 Well, Bauldy, how gaes a'? 
 
 Faith, unco right ; 
 I hope we 'II a' sleep sound but ane this night ! 
 
 And wha 's tho unlucky ane, if we may ask ? 
 
 To find out that is nae difficult task : 
 Poor bonny Peggy, wha maun think nae mair 
 On Pate, turned Patrick, and Sir William's heir. 
 Now, now, good Madge, and honest Mause, stand be ; 
 While Meg's in dumps, put in a word for mo ; 
 I'll be as kind as ever Pate could prove, 
 Less wilfu', and ay constant in my love. 
 
 UADGE. 
 
 As Neps can witness, and tho bushy thorn, 
 Where mony a time to her your heart was sworn ! 
 Fy, Bauldy, blush, and vows of love regard ; 
 What other lass will trow a manswom herd ? 
 The curse of heaven hings ay aboon their beads. 
 That 's ever guilty of sic sinfu* deeds. 
 
 I '11 ne'er advise my niece sae gray a gate ; 
 Nor will she be advised, fou well I wat. 
 
 Sao gray a gate ! mansworn ! and a' the rest ! — 
 Ye lied, auld roudes ; and in faith had best 
 Etit in your words, else I shall gar you stand. 
 With a hct face, afore the haly band ! 
 
 Yo'll gar me stand ! yo shevelling-gabbit brock. 
 Speak that again, and trembling dread my rock. 
 And ten sharp nails, that when my hands are in, 
 Can flyp the skin o' y'er cheeks out o'er your chin, 
 
 I take ye witness, Mause, ye heard her say 
 That I 'm manswom : — I winna let it gae ! 
 
 Ye 're witness too, he ca'd me bonny names, 
 And should be served as his good-breeding claims. 
 Ye filthy dog ! 
 
 [Flees to his hair like a fury. — A stout battle. — Maitse 
 endeavors to redd them.'] 
 
 Let gang yonr grips ! — Fye, Madge ! — Howt, 
 Bauldy, leen ! — 
 I widna wish this tulzie had been seen, 
 'T is sae daft like — 
 
 \_Bauldy gets out of Madfft^s clutches with a bleeding 
 nose.-\ 
 
 'T is daftcr like to tholo 
 An ether-cap like him to blaw the coal \ 
 It sets him well, with vile unscrapit tungue. 
 To cast up whether I be auld or young ; 
 They 're aulder yet than I have married been. 
 And, or they died, their bairns' bairns have seen. 
 
 My lugs, my nose, and noddle finds the same. 
 
 * Auld roudes ! ' — filthy fuUow, I shall auld ye ! 
 
 Uowt, no ! — Ye 'II e'en be friends with honest 
 Bauldy. 
 Come, come, shake hands ; this maun nae farder gae ; 
 Ye man forgi'e 'm. 1 see the lad looks wae. 
 
 In troth now, Mause, I have at Madge nae spite ; 
 But she abusing first, was a' the wyte 
 Of what has happened, and shou'd therefore crave 
 My pardon first, and shall acquittance have. 
 
 MADOE. 
 
 I crave your pardon, gallows-facc ! — Gae greet. 
 And own your faut to her that ye wad cheat ; 
 
120 
 
 KURAL POETRY. 
 
 Gae, or be blasted in your health and gear. 
 
 Till ye learn to perform as well as swear ! 
 
 Vow and lowp back ! — was o'er the like heard tell ? 
 
 Swith tak him, deil, he's o'er lang out of hell ! 
 
 His presence be about us ! — Curst were he 
 That were condemned for life to live with thee ! 
 
 IRuns off.] 
 
 (MADGE, laughing.) 
 I think I 've towzled his harigalds a wee ! 
 He 'II no soon grein to tell his love to me ! 
 He *s but a rascal that would mint to serve 
 A lassie sae, he does but ill deserve ! 
 
 Ye towin'd him tightly ; I commend ye for 't ; 
 His bleeding snout gae me nae little sport ; 
 For this forenoon he had that scant of grace, 
 And breeding baith, to tell me to my face, 
 He hoped I was a witch, and wadna stand 
 To lend him in this case my helping hand. 
 
 A witch ! how had ye patience this to bear, 
 And leave him een to see, or lugs to hear? 
 
 Auld withered hands and feeble joints, like mine 
 Obliges fowk resentment to decline ; 
 Till aft 't is seen, when vigor fails, that we 
 With cunning can the lack of pith supply. 
 Thus I pat aff revenge till it was dark. 
 Syne bade him come, and we should gang to wark ; 
 I'm sure he'll keep his tryst ; and I came here 
 To seek your help that we the fool may fear. 
 
 And special sport we '11 liae, as I protest ! 
 Ye 'U be the witch, and I shall play the ghaist. 
 A linen sheet wound round me like ane dead, 
 I 'It cawk my face, and grane, and shake my head ; 
 We '11 fleg him sae, he '11 mint nae mair to gang 
 A conjuring to do a lassie wrang. 
 
 let I 
 
 
 The westlin cloud shii 
 
 hard on night, 
 I setting light. 
 
 Wow! but I 'm cadgie, and my heart lowps light ! 
 0, Mr. Patrick, ay your thoughts were right ! 
 Sure gentle fowk are farther seen than we. 
 That naething hae to brag of pedigree. 
 
 My Jenny, now, who brak my heart this morn, 
 Is perfect yielding, sweet, and nae mair scorn. 
 I spak my mind, — she heard ; I spak again, — 
 She smiled; I kissed, — I wooed, — nor wooed in yain. 
 
 I 'm glad to hear 't : but ! my change this day 
 Heaves up my joy ! — And yet I 'm sometimes wae. 
 I 've found a father, gently kind as brave, 
 And an estate that lifts me 'boon the lave ; 
 With looks all kindness, words that love confest, 
 He all the father to my soul expressed. 
 While close he held me to his manly breast : 
 ' Such were the eyes,' he said, * thus smiled the mouth 
 Of thy loved mother, blessing o' my youth, 
 Wha set too soon !' — Andwhilehe praise bestowed 
 Adown his gracefu' cheeks a torrent flowed. 
 My new-born joys, and this his tender tale. 
 Did, mingled thus, o'er a' my thoughts prevail ; 
 That, speechless, lang my late-ken'd sire I viewed, 
 While gushing tears my panting breast bedewed : 
 Unusual transports made my head turn round, 
 Whilst I myself with rising raptures found 
 The happy son of ane sae much renowned. 
 But he has heard ! Too faithful Symon's fear 
 Has brought my love for Peggy to his ear ; 
 Which he forbids : — ah ! this confounds my peace. 
 While thus to beat my heart must sooner cease. 
 
 How to advise ye, troth I 'm at a stand ; 
 But were 't my case, ye 'd clear it up aff hand. 
 
 Duty, and haflen reason, plead his cause ; 
 But love rebels against all bounding laws ; 
 Fixt in my soul the shepherdess excels,' 
 And part of my new happiness repels. 
 
 SANG XVI. 
 TcNE. — ' A'ir* wad lei me be.' 
 Duty and part of reason 
 
 Plead strong on the parent's side ; 
 Which love so superior calls treason ; — 
 The strongest must be obeyed. 
 
 For now, tho' I 'm one of the gentry. 
 My constancy falsehood repels ; 
 
 For change in my heart has no entry ; 
 Still there my dear Peggy excels. 
 
 Enjoy them baith : — Sir William will be won. 
 Your Peggy 's bonny : — you 're his only son. 
 
 She 's mine by vows, and stronger ties of love ; 
 And frae these bands nae fate my mind shall mov( 
 I '11 wed nane else, thro' life I will be true ; 
 But still obedience is a parent's due. 
 
 ' But t 
 
 s love for reason, rules, and laws ? 
 rt my shepherdess excels.' 
 
 Edition of 1808. 
 
Is not our master and yourscll to stay 
 Amang us here ? Or are yo gawn away 
 To London court, or ithcr far-aff parts, 
 To Icavo your ain poor us with broken hearts ? 
 
 PATIK. 
 
 To Edinburgh straight to-morrow wo advance, 
 To London noist, and afterwards to France, 
 Where I must stay some years, and learn to dance, 
 And twa three other monltey-tricks ; that done, 
 I come hame strutting in ray rcd-heeled shoon. 
 Then 't is designed, when I can well behave. 
 That I maun be some petted thing's dull slave, 
 For some few bags of cash, that I wat wcel, 
 1 nae mair need nor carts do a third wheel. 
 But Peggy, dearer to mo than my breath. 
 Sooner than hear sic news shall hear my death. 
 
 * They wha have just enough can soundly sleep. 
 The owrccome only fashes fowk to keep : ' — 
 Good master Patrick, take your ain tale hame. 
 
 \Vhat was my morning thought, at night's the 
 The poor and rich but diBfer in the name. [same; 
 Content 's the greatest bliss we can procure 
 Frae 'boon the lift ; without it kings are poor. 
 
 But an estate like yours yields braw content. 
 When we but pick it scantly on the bent : 
 Fine claiths, saft beds, sweet houses, sparkling wine. 
 Good cheer, and witty friends, whene'er ye dine, 
 Obeisant servants, honor, wealth, and ease ; 
 Wha 's no content with these are ill to please ! 
 
 PiTIE. 
 
 Sae Roger thinks, and thinks not far amiss. 
 But mony a cloud hings hovering o'er their bliss : 
 The passions rule the roast ; and if they 're sour. 
 Like the lean kye, they 'U soon the fat devour. 
 The spleen, tint honor, and affronted pride. 
 Sting like the sharpest goads in gentry's side ; 
 The gouts, and gravels, and the ill disease. 
 Are frequentest with fowk owrelaid with ease ; 
 While o'er the moor the shepherd, with less care. 
 Enjoys his sober wish, and halesomc air. 
 
 Lord, man, I wonder, ay, and it delights 
 My heart whene'er I hearken to your flights ! 
 How gat ye a' that sense I fain wad lear. 
 That I may easier disappointments bear ? 
 
 Frae books, the wale of books, I gat some skill ; 
 These best can teach what 's real good and ill. 
 Ne'er grudge ilk year to wear some stanes of cheese, 
 To gain these silent friends that ever please. 
 
 I'll( 
 
 t, and ye shall tell me which to buy ; 
 I hao books, tho' I shou'd sell my kye ! 
 
 But now let's hear how yo 
 
 Between Sir William's will and Peggy's love? 
 
 Then here it lies — His will maun be obeyed ; 
 My vows I 'It keep, and she shall be my bride ; 
 But I some time this last design maun hide. 
 Keep you the secret close, and leave me here ; 
 I sent for Peggy, — yonder comes my dear. 
 
 Pleased that ye trust me with the secret, I 
 To wylo it frae me a' the deils defy. [£ii(.] 
 
 PATIE fOlu). 
 
 With what a struggle must I now impart 
 My father's will to her that bauds my heart ! 
 I ken she loves ; and her saft soul will sink, 
 While it stands trembling on tho hated brink 
 Of disappointment. Heav'n support my fair, 
 And let her comfort claim your tender care ! — 
 Her eyes are red ! — 
 
 Enlcr PKGOr. 
 — My Peggy, why in tears ? 
 Smile as ye wont, allow nae room for fears ; 
 Tho' I 'm nae mair a shepherd, yet I 'm thine ! 
 
 I dare not think so high ! I now repine 
 At the unhappy chance that made not mo 
 A gentle match, or still a herd kept thee. 
 Wha can withoutcn pain see frae the coast 
 The ship that bears his all like to be lost ; 
 Like to bo carried by some reiver's hand 
 Far frae his wishes to some distant land ? 
 
 Ne'er quarrel fate, whilst it with me remains 
 To raise thee up, or still attend these plains. 
 My father has forbid our loves, I own ; 
 But love 's superior to a parent's frown. 
 I falsehood hate ; come, kiss thy cares away ; 
 I ken to love as well as to obey. 
 Sir William 's generous : leave the task to me 
 To make strict duty and true love agree. 
 
 Speak on, speak ever thus, and still my grief ; 
 But short I dare to hope the fond relief ! 
 New thoughts a gentler face will soon inspire, 
 That with nice airs swims round in silk attire : 
 Then I, poor me ! with sighs may ban my fate. 
 When the young laird 's nae mair my hcartsome Pate. 
 Nae mair again to hear sweet tales expressed 
 By the blyth shepherd that excelled tho rest ; 
 Nae mair be envied by the tattling gang, 
 When Patie kissed me, when I danced or sang ; 
 Nae mair, alake ! we '11 on the meadow play. 
 And rin half breathless round the rucks of hay. 
 As aft-times I have fled from thee right fain. 
 And fawn on purpose that I might bo tane ; 
 Nae mair around the foggy knowe I '11 creep. 
 To watch and stare upon thee while asleep. 
 
RURAL POETRY. RAMSAY. 
 
 But hear my vow, — 't will help to give me 
 May sudden death, or deadly sair disease, 
 And warst of ills attend my wretched life. 
 If e'er to ane but you I be a wife ! 
 
 SANG xvn. 
 
 ToSE. - 
 
 ' JVae ': 
 
 
 we should sund 
 
 Speak on, speak thus, and still my grief. 
 Hold up a heart that's sinking under 
 
 These fears, that soon will want relief. 
 When Pate must from his Peggy sunder. 
 
 A gentler face and silk attire, 
 ' A lady rich in beauty's blossom, 
 
 Alake, poor me ! will now conspire 
 To steal thee from thy Peggy's bosom. 
 
 No more the shepherd who excelled 
 
 The rest, whose wit made them to wonder, 
 Shall now his Peggy's praises tell : — 
 
 Ah ! I can die, but never sunder ! 
 Ye meadows where we often strayed, 
 
 Ye banks where we were wont to wander. 
 Sweet-scented rucks round which we played. 
 
 You 'U lose your sweets when we 're asimder. 
 
 Again, ah ! shall I never creep 
 
 Around the knowe with silent duty, 
 Eindly to watch thee while asleep. 
 
 And wonder at thy manly beauty ? 
 Hear, heav'n, while solemnly I vow, 
 
 Tho' thou shouldst prove a wand'ring lover. 
 Thro' life to thee I shall prove true, 
 
 Nor be a wife to any other. 
 
 Sure heaven approves ; and be assured of me, 
 I '11 ne'er gang back of what I 've sworn to thee 
 And time, — tho' time maun interpose a while, 
 And I maun leave my Peggy and this isle, — 
 Yet time, nor distance, nor the fairest face, — 
 If there's a fairer, — e'er shall fill thy place. 
 I 'd hate my rising fortune, should it move 
 The fair foundation of our faithfu' love. 
 If at my feet were crowns at)d sceptres laid. 
 To bribe my soul frae thee, delightful maid. 
 For thee I 'd soon leave these inferior things 
 To sic as have the patience to be kings. — 
 Wherefore that tear ? — Believe, and calm thy mi 
 
 I greet for joy to hear thy words sae kind. 
 When hopes were sunk, and naught but mirk despaii 
 Made me think life was little worth my care, 
 My heart was like to burst ; but now I see 
 Thy gen'rous thoughts will save thy love for me. 
 With patience then I '11 wait each wheeling year. 
 Dream thro' that night, till my day-star appear ;' 
 
 And all the while I'll study gentler charms. 
 To make me fitter for my trav'ler's arms ; 
 I '11 gain on uncle Gland ; he 's far frae fool, 
 And will not grud'ge to put me through ilk school. 
 Where I may manners learn. 
 
 When hope was quite sunk in despair. 
 
 My heart it was going to break ; 
 My life appeared worthless my care. 
 
 But now I will save 't for thy sake. 
 Where'er my love travels by day, 
 
 Wherever he lodges by night. 
 With me his dear image shall stay. 
 
 And my soul keep him ever in sight. 
 
 With patience I 'U wait the long year. 
 
 And study the gentlest charms ; 
 Hope time away till thou appear. 
 
 To lock thee for ay in those arms. 
 Whilst thou wast a shepherd, I prized 
 
 No higher degree in this life ; 
 But now I '11 endeavor to rise 
 
 To a height is becoming thy wife. 
 
 For beauty, that's only skin deep, 
 
 Must fade like the gowans of May ; 
 But inwardly rooted, will keep 
 
 Forever, without a decay. 
 Nor age, nor the changes of life. 
 
 Can quench the fair fire of love. 
 If virtue 's ingrained in the wife. 
 
 And the husband have sense to approve. 
 
 That 's wisely said ; 
 
 And what he wares that way shall be well paid. 
 
 Tho' without a' the little helps of art. 
 
 Thy native sweets might gain a prince's heart ; 
 
 Yet now, lest in our station we offend. 
 
 We must learn modes to innocence unken'd ; 
 
 Affect aft-times to like the thing we hate, 
 
 And drap serenity, to keep up state ; [say, 
 
 Laugh when we 're sad, speak when we 've naught to 
 
 And for the fashion, when we 're blyth, seem wae ; 
 
 Pay compliments to them we aft have scorned. 
 
 Then scandalize them when their backs are turned. 
 
 If this is gentry, I had rather be 
 What I am still. — But I '11 be aught with thee. 
 
 No ! no ! my Peggy ; I but only jest 
 With gentry's apes ; for still, amangst the best, 
 Good manners give integrity a bleeze, 
 When native virtues join the arts to please. 
 
 PEGGY. 
 
 Since with nae hazard, and sae small expense. 
 My lad frae books can gather sicoan sense. 
 
123 
 
 Then why, ah ! why should the tempcstaouB sea 
 Endnngcr thy dear life, and frighten mo ? 
 Sir William's cruel, that ivad force his son, 
 For watna-whats, sao great a risk to run. 
 
 There is nao doubt but travelling docs improve ; 
 Yet I would shun it for thy sake, my love. 
 But soon as I 'vo shook aff my landwart cast 
 In foreign cities, hamo to thee I'll haste. 
 
 With every setting day, and rising morn, 
 I '11 kneel to heaven and ask thy safe return. 
 Under that tree, and on the Suckler brae, 
 AVhere aft we wont, when bairns, to run and play ; 
 And to the hizcl shaw, where first ye vowed 
 Ye wad be mine, and I as citbly trowed, 
 I '11 aften gang, and tell tbo trees and flow'rs, 
 With joy, that they '11 bear witness I am yours. 
 
 SANQ XIX. 
 TrSB. — ^ Bush aboon Traquair.* 
 
 At setting day and rising mom, 
 
 With soul that still shall love theo, 
 1 '11 ask of heaven thy safe return, 
 
 With all that can improve thee. 
 I'll visit aft the birken bush. 
 
 Where first thou kindly told me 
 Sweet tales of love, and hid ray blush, 
 
 Whilst ronnd thou didst enfold me. 
 
 To all our haunts I will repair, 
 
 By greenwood shaw or fountain ; 
 Or where the summer-day I 'd share 
 
 With thee upon yon mountain : 
 There will I tell the trees and flow'rs, 
 
 From thoughts unfeigned and tender 
 By vows you're mine, by love is yours 
 
 A heart which cannot wander. 
 
 My dear, allow me, from thy temples fair; 
 A shining ringlet of thy flowing hair. 
 Which, as a sample of each lovely charm, 
 I '11 aften kiss, and wear about my arm. 
 
 Were ilka hair that appertains to me 
 Worth an estate, they all belong to thee. 
 My shears are ready, take what you demand. 
 And aught what love with virtue may < 
 
 Nae mair we'll ask : but since we've little time, 
 To ware 't on words, wad border on a crime ; 
 Love's safter meaning better is cxprcst. 
 When 't is with kisses on the heart imprest. 
 
 [T^e^ embracCj u-hiU the curtain is let fioum.} 
 
 See how poor Bnuldy stares like anc posscst, 
 And ronrs up Syinon frac his kindly ri-nt : 
 Bare-lcygfd, with niKlit-citj'* and uiit)Uttoned 
 See the auld man comes forward to the sot. 
 
 8YM0N AND BAULDr. 
 8TM0S. 
 
 WTiat want ye, Bauldy, at this early hour, 
 When naturo nods bcncath'thc drowsy power?* 
 Far to tho north the scant approaching light 
 Stands equal 'twist the morning and the night. 
 What gars ye shake, and glowr, and look sae wan ? 
 Your teeth they chitler, hair like bristles Stan'. 
 
 BAVLDY. 
 
 len me soon some water, milk, or ale ! 
 My head 'a grown giddy ! — legs with shaking fail ! — 
 I '11 ne'er dare venture forth at night my lane. 
 Alake ! I'll never be mysell again ; 
 I '11 ne'er o'erput it ! — .Symon ! O, Sy mon ! >. 
 
 [Si/mon yivcs hint a drink.1 
 
 SYMO.N. 
 
 What ails theo, gowk, to make so loiid ado? — 
 You've waked Sir William, he has left his bed ; 
 lie comes, I fear ill pleased ; I hear his tread. 
 
 Enter sin willlau. 
 
 SIR WILLMM. 
 
 How goes the night ? does daylight yet appear ? 
 Symon, you're very timeously asteer. 
 
 I'm sorry, sir, that we've disturbed your rest ; 
 But some strange thing has Bauldy's sp'rit opprest. 
 He 's seen some witch, or wrestled with a ghaist. 
 
 BADLDT. 
 
 ! ay ; dear sir, in troth, 't is very true ; 
 And I am come to make my plaint to you. 
 
 1 lang to hear 't. 
 
 HilLDV. 
 
 Ah ! sir, tho witch ca'd Manse, 
 That wins aboon tho mill amang the haws, 
 First promised that she 'd help me with her art, 
 To gain a bonny, thrnwart lassie's heart. 
 As she had trysted, I mot wi'cr this night ; 
 But may nae friend of mine get sic a fright ! 
 For the curst hag, instead of doing me good, — 
 The very thought o't 's like to freeze my blood ! — 
 Raised up a ghaist, or dcil, I kenna whilk. 
 Like a dead corse in sheet as white as milk ; 
 Black hands it had, and face as wan as death. 
 Upon me fast the witcli and it fell baith. 
 And gat me down, while I, like a great fool. 
 Was labored as I wont to be at school. 
 
124 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 My heart out of its hool was like to loup ; 
 I pithless grew with fear, and had nao hope ; 
 Till, with an elritch laugh, they vanished quite. 
 Syne I half dead with anger, fear, and spite. 
 Crap up, and fled straight frae them, sir, to you, 
 Hoping your help to gie the deil his due. 
 I *m sure my heart will ne'er gie o'er to dunt, 
 Till in a fat tar-barrel Mause he burnt ! 
 
 SIR WILLIAM. 
 
 Well, Bauldy, whate'er's just shall granted be ; 
 Let Mause be brought this morning down to me. 
 
 Thanks to your honor ! soon shall I obey ; 
 But first I '11 Roger raise, and twa three mae. 
 To catch her fast, or she get leave to squeel. 
 And cast her cautraips that bring up the deil. 
 
 [ExU Bauldy.] 
 
 Troth, Symon, Bauldy 's more afraid than hurt ; 
 The witch and ghaist have made themselves good 
 
 What silly notions crowd the clouded mind, 
 That is through want of education blind ! 
 
 But docs your honor think there s nae sic tbi 
 As witches raising deils up through a ring? 
 Syne playing tricks, — a thousand I cou'd tell, - 
 Cou'd never be contrived on this side hell. 
 
 Such as the devil 's dancing in a moor, 
 Amongst a few old women craz'd and poor. 
 Who were rejoiced to see him frisk and lowp 
 O'er braes and bogs with candles in his dowp ; 
 Appearing sometimes like a black-horned cow, 
 Aft-times like Bawty, Badrans, or a sow ; 
 Then with his train through airy paths to glide. 
 While they on cats, or clowns, or broomstaffs, ride ; 
 Or in an egg-shell skim out o'er the main, 
 To drink their leader's health in France or Spain : 
 Then aft by night bumbaze hare-hearted fools, 
 By tumbling down their cupboards, chairs, and 
 
 Whate'er 's in spells, or if there witches be, 
 Such whimsies seem the most absurd to me. 
 
 'T is true enough, we ne'er heard that a witch 
 Had either mcikle sense or yet was rich. 
 But Mause, tho' poor, is a sagacious wife. 
 And lives a quiet and very honest life ; 
 That gars me think this hoblcshcw that's past 
 Will end in naetbing but a joke at last. 
 
 I 'm sure it will ! — But see, increasing light 
 Commands the imps of darkness down to night. 
 Bid raise my servants, and my horse prepare, 
 Whilst 1 walk out to take the morning air. 
 
 Tone. — * Bonny gray-eyed mom J 
 The bonny gray-eyed morn begins to peep. 
 
 And darkness flies before the rising ray ; 
 The hearty hynd starts from his lazy sleep, 
 
 To follow healthfu' labors of the day ; 
 Without a guilty sting to wrinkle his brow, 
 
 The lark and the linnet 'tend his levee ; 
 And he joins the concert, driving his plough, 
 
 From toil of grimace and pageantry free. 
 
 While flustered with wine, or maddened with loss 
 
 Of half an estate, the prey of a main, 
 The drunkard and gamester tumble and toss. 
 
 Wishing for calmness and slumber in vain. 
 Be my portion health and quietness of mind. 
 
 Placed at due distance from parties and state; 
 Where neither ambition, nor avarice blind, 
 
 Reach him who has happiness linked to his fate. 
 [Exeunt. "] 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 While Peggy laces up her bosom fair, 
 With a blue snood Jenny binds up her hair ; 
 Giaud by his morning ingle takes a beek ; 
 The rising sun shines raotty through the reek ", 
 A pipe bis mouth, the lasses please his een. 
 And now and then his joke maun interveen. 
 
 GLAUD, 
 
 AND PEGGY-. 
 
 I wish, my bairns, it may keep fair till night. 
 Ye do not use so soon to see the light. 
 Nae doubt now ye intend to mix the thrang. 
 To take your leave of Patrick or he gang ; 
 But do you think that now, when he 's a laird. 
 That he poor landwart lasses will regard ? 
 
 Tho' he 's young master now, I 'm very sure 
 He has mair sense than slight auld friends, tho' poor ; 
 But yesterday he ga'e us mony a tug. 
 And kissed my cousin there frae lug to lug. 
 
 Ay, ay, nae doubt o't, and he '11 do 't again ! 
 But he advised, his company refrain. 
 Before, he as a shepherd sought a wife, 
 With her to live a chaste and frugal life ; 
 But now grown gentle, soon he will forsake 
 Sic godly thoughts, /and brag of being a rake. 
 
 A rake ! what 's that ? — Sure, if it means aught 
 Ho '11 never he 't, else I have tint my skill. [ill, 
 
 Daft lassie, you ken naught of the affair ; 
 Ane young, and good, and gentle 's unco rare. 
 A rake 's a graceless spark, that thinks nae shame 
 To do what like of us thinks sin to name. 
 Sic are sac void of shame, they '11 never stap 
 To brag how aften they have had the [ — ] ; 
 
SPRINa — MAT. 
 
 125 
 
 They 'II tempt young thiogs liko you with youdith 
 
 flushed, 
 Syne mak yo a' their jest when you 'ro debauched. 
 Be wary, then, I say, and never gi'e 
 Eucuuragemcnt, or board with sic a3 ho. 
 
 Sir William's virtuou-i, and of gentle blood ; 
 And may uot Patrick too, like him, bo good ? 
 
 That 's true ! And mony gentry mac than he, 
 As they are wiser, better are than wo ; 
 But thinner sawn ; tbey 'ru sac pufl up with pride. 
 There 's mouy of them mocks ilk haly guide 
 That shaws the gate to heav'n. I 've heard myaell 
 Some of them laugh at doomsday, sin, and hell. 
 
 Watch o'er us. Father ! — Ueh, that 's very odd ; 
 Sure him that doubts a doomsday doubts a Ood. 
 
 Doubt ! why they neither doubt, nor judge, nor 
 think. 
 Nor hope, nor fear ; but curse, debauch, and drink. 
 But I 'm no saying this, as if I thought 
 That Patrick to sic gates will e'er be brought. 
 
 The Lord forbid ! Na, he kens better things. 
 But here comes aunt ; her face some ferly brings. 
 
 Haste ! haste ye! We 're a' sent for owro the gate, 
 To hear, and help to redd some odd debate [spell, 
 'Tween Mauso and Bauldy, 'bout some witchcraft 
 At Symon's house. The knight sits judge himsell. 
 
 Lend me my staff. Madge, lock the outer door ; 
 And bring the lasses wi' ye ; I '11 step before. 
 
 [ExU Glaud.] 
 
 Poor Meg 1 — Look, .Jenny, was the like e'er seen ? 
 How bleered and red with greeting look her een ! 
 This day her brankan wooer taks his horse. 
 To strut a gentle spark at Edinburgh cross : 
 To change his kent cut frae the branchy plane, 
 For a nice sword, and glancing headed cane ; 
 To leave his ram-horn spoons, and kitted whey, 
 For gentler tea that smells liko flSw-won hay j 
 To leave the green-sward dance, when we gac milk, 
 To rustle amang the beauties clad in silk. 
 But Meg, poor Meg! maun with the shepherds stay. 
 And tak what God will send, in hodden gray. 
 
 Dear aunt, what needs ye fash us wi' your scorn ? 
 That 's no my faut that I 'm nae gentler born. 
 Gif I the daughter of some laird had been, 
 I ne'er had noticed Patie on the green ; 
 
 Now, since he rises, why should I repine 7 
 If ho 's made for another, he 'II ne'er bo mine ; 
 And then, — the like has been, — if the decree 
 Designs him mine, I yet his wife may bo. 
 
 A bonny story, troth ! But wo delay ; 
 Prin up your aprons baith, and come away. 
 
 lExtunt.] 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Sir William an. _ 
 
 yrtMe %nion, Boner, Olaud, and Manse, 
 Attend, and with loud laughter hear 
 
 Daft Bauldy bluntly plead his cause : — 
 
 Was handled by revengefu' Madge, 
 Because he brak good breeding's laws, 
 And with his nonsense raised their rage. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM, PATIE, ROOER, SVMON, GLAUD, BAUU>r, 
 
 And was that all ? — Well, Bauldy, ye was served 
 No Otherwise than what ye well deserved. 
 Was it so small a matter to defame, 
 And thus abuse an honest woman's name ? 
 Besides your going about to have betrayed, 
 By perjury, an innocent young maid ? 
 
 Sir, I confess my faut thro' a' the steps. 
 And ne'er again shall bo untrue to Neps. 
 
 Thus far, sir, he obliged me on the score ; 
 I ken'd not that they thought mo sic before. 
 
 BICLDY. 
 
 An't like your honor, I believed it well ; 
 But troth I was e'en doilt to seek the deil. 
 Yet, with your honor's leave, tho' she 's nae witch, 
 
 She 's baith a slee and a revengcfu' ; 
 
 And that my some place finds. But I had best 
 Hand in my tongue, for yonder comes the ghaist. 
 And the young bonny witch whase rosie cheek 
 Sent me without my wit the dcil to seek. 
 
 ENTER MADGE, PEOGY, AND JEN.NY. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM {looking at Petjijy). 
 Whose daughter 's she that wears th' Aurora gown. 
 With face so fair, and looks a lovely brown ? 
 How siMirkling are her eyes ! — What's this I find? 
 The girl brings all my sister to my mind. 
 Such were the features once adorned a face. 
 Which death too soon deprived of sweetest grace. 
 Is this your daughter, Glaud ? — 
 CLArn. 
 
 Sir, she 's my niece. — 
 
 And yet she 's not : — but I should hald my peace. 
 
 SIB WILLIAM. 
 
 This is a contradiction ! what d' ye mean ? — 
 She is, and she is not ! — pray, Glaud, explain. 
 
126 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Because I doubt if I should make appear 
 What I hare kept a secret thirteen year. 
 
 You may reveal what I can fully clear. 
 
 SIR WILLIAM. 
 
 Speak soon ; I'm all impatience ! — 
 
 Fori 
 
 — So am I ; 
 ; hope ; and hardly yet know why. 
 
 Then, since my master orders, I obey. 
 This bonny foundling, ae clear morn of May, 
 Close by the lee-side of my door I found. 
 All sweet and clean, and carefully hapt round 
 In infant-weeds of rich and gentle make. 
 What could they be — thought I — did thee forsake ? 
 Wha, warse than brutes, cou'd leave exposed to air 
 Sae much of innocence, sae sweetly fair, 
 Sae helpless young ? — For she appeared to me 
 Only about twa towmonds auld to be. 
 I took her in my arms, — the bairnie smiled 
 With sic a look wad made a savage mild. 
 I hid the story, and she passed sincesyne 
 As a poor orphan, and a niece of mine. 
 Nor do I rue my care about the wean, 
 For she 's well worth the pains that I have tane. 
 Ye see she 's bonny ; I can swear she 's good. 
 And am right sure she 's come of gentle blood ; — 
 Of whom I kenna ; — naithing ken I mair, 
 Than what I to your honor now declare. 
 
 This tale seems strange ! — 
 
 — The tale delights my ear. 
 
 Con 
 
 1 your joys, young man, till truth appear. 
 
 That be my task ! — Now, sir, bid all be hush ; 
 Peggy may smile, thou hast no cause to blush. 
 Lang have I wished to see this happy day. 
 That I might safely to the truth give way ; 
 That I may now Sir William Worthy name 
 The best and nearest friend that she can claim. 
 He saw 't at first, and with quick eye did trace 
 His sister's beauties in her daughter's face. 
 
 SIR WILLIiM. 
 
 Old woman, do not rave ! prove what you say ; 
 'T is dangerous in affairs like this to play. 
 
 What reason, sir, can an old woman have 
 To toll a lie, when she 's sae near her grave ? 
 But how or why it should be truth, I grant, 
 I everything looks like a reason want. ^ 
 
 The story's odd ! — We wish we heard it out. 
 
 Make haste, good i 
 
 and resolve each doubt. 
 
 MACSE (i/oes foru'ard, leading Pegrjy to Sir William). 
 Sir, view me well ! — Has fifteen years so plew'd 
 A wrinkled face that you have often viewed. 
 That here I as an unknown stranger stand. 
 Who nursed her mother that now holds my hand ? 
 Yet stronger proofs I '11 give, if you demand. 
 
 Ha, honest nurse ! —Where were my eyes before ? 
 I know thy faithfulness, and need no more ; 
 Yet from the lab'rinth to lead out my mind, 
 Say, to expose her who was so unkind ? 
 [Sir William embraces Peggy, and makes her sit by 
 
 Urn.] 
 Yes, surely thou 'rt my niece ! — Truth must pre- 
 
 
 But I 
 
 vords till Mause relate her tale. 
 
 Good nurse, dispatch thy story winged with blisses. 
 That I may give my cousin fifty kisses. 
 
 Then it was I that saved her infant life ; 
 Her death being threatened by an uncle's wife. 
 The story's lang : — but I the secret knew, 
 How they pursued, with avaricious view, 
 Her rich estate, of which they 're now possest. 
 All this to me a confidant confest. 
 I heard with horror, and with trembling dread. 
 They'd smoor the sakeless orphan in her bed. 
 That very night, when all were sunk in rest. 
 At midnight hour the floor I saftly prest. 
 And staw the sleeping innocent away. 
 With whom I travelled some few miles ere day. 
 All day I hid me ; — when the day was done, 
 I kept my journey, lighted by the moon ; 
 Till eastward fifty miles I reached these plains, 
 Where needful plenty glads your cheerful swains. 
 For fear of being found out, and to secure 
 My charge, I laid her at this shepherd's door ; 
 And took a neighboring cottage here, that I, 
 Whate'er should happen to her, might be by. 
 Here honest Gland himsel and Symon may 
 Remember well, how I that very day 
 Frae Roger's father took my little erove. 
 
 GLiUD (with tears of jog running down his beard). 
 I well remember 't ! — Lord reward your love ! — 
 Lang have I wished for this ; for aft I thought 
 Sic knowledge some time shou'd about be brought. 
 
 'T is now a crime to doubt ! My joys are full. 
 With due obedience to my parent's will. 
 Sir, with paternal love survey her charms. 
 And blame me not for rushing to her arms ; 
 She 's mine by vows, and wou'd, tho' still unknown. 
 Have been my wife, when I my vows durst own. 
 
SPEINa — MAY. 
 
 127 
 
 My niece, my daughter, welcome to my oaro ! 
 Sweet imago of thy mother, good and fair ! 
 Equal with Patrick : — Now my greatest aim 
 Shall bo to aid your joys, and well-matched flamo. 
 Jly boy, recoivo her from your father's hand. 
 With as good will as cither would demand. 
 IPade and Peggy etnbracej and kneel to Sir WiUiarn.] 
 
 With as much joy this blessing I receive. 
 As ane wad life that's sinking in a wave. 
 SIB WILLIAM (raises them). 
 
 I give you both my blessing. — May your love 
 [Voduco a happy race, and still improve ! 
 
 My wishes are complete ! My joys arise. 
 While I 'm haf dizzy with the blest surprise ! 
 And am I, then, a match for my ain lad, 
 That for me so much generous kindness had ? 
 Lang may Sir William bless these happy plains, 
 Happy while Ileaven grant he on them remains. 
 
 Be livng our piaidian, still our master be. 
 We'll only crave what you shall please to gio ; 
 The estate bo yours, my Peggy 's ano to mo. 
 
 will take amends 
 ife for wicked ends. 
 
 The base unnatural villain soon shall know 
 That eyes above watch the affairs below. 
 I 'II strip him soon of all to her pertains. 
 And make him reimburse his ill-got gains. 
 
 To mo the views of wealth and an estate 
 Seem light, when put in balance with my Pate ; 
 For his sake only I '11 ay thankful bow 
 For suoh a kindness, best of men, to you. 
 
 What double blythness wakens up this day ! — 
 I hope now, sir, you 'II no soon haste away : 
 Shall I unsaddle your horse, and gar prepare 
 A dinner for ye of halo country fare ? 
 See how much joy unwrinkles every brow ! 
 Our looks hing on the twa, and doat on you ; 
 Even Bauldy, the bewitched, has quite forgot 
 Fell Madge's tawso, and pawky Mauso'a plot. 
 
 Kindly old man ! — Remain with you this day! 
 I never from these fields again will stray. 
 Masons and wrights shall soon my house repair, 
 And busy gardeners shall new planting roar ; 
 My father's hearty board you soon shall see 
 Restored, and my best friends rejoice with me. 
 
 That 's the best news I 've hoard this twenty year! 
 New day breaks up, rough times begin to clear ! 
 
 OLiUD. 
 
 God save tho king ! and save Sir William lang. 
 To enjoy their ain, and raise tho shepherd's sang ! 
 
 Wha winna danee, wha will refuse to sing? 
 What shepherd's whistle winna lilt tho spring 1 
 
 BACLDT. 
 
 I'm friends with Mause ! With very Madge I'm 
 gree'd ; 
 Although they skelpit me when woodly fleid ! 
 I 'ni now fu' blyth, and frankly can forgive, 
 To join and sing, ' Lang may Sir William live !' 
 
 Lang may ho live ! — and, Bauldy, learn to stock 
 Your gab a wee, and think before ye sjieak ; 
 And never ca' her auld that wants a man, 
 Else yc may yet some witoh's fingers ban. 
 This day I'll with tho youngest of you rant, 
 And brag for ay that I was ca'd the aunt 
 Of our young lady, my dear bonny bairn ! 
 
 No other name I '11 ever for you learn. 
 And, my good nurse, how shall I gratefu' bo 
 For a' thy matchless kindness done for me ? 
 
 The flowing pie 
 Does fully all I C8 
 
 mre of this happy day 
 require repay. 
 
 To faithful Symon, and, kind Gland, to you 
 And to your heirs I give in endless feu 
 The mailens ye possess, as justly due, 
 For acting like kind fathers to the pair. 
 Who have enough besides, and these can spare. 
 Mause, in my house in calmness close your days, 
 With naught to do but sing your Maker's praise. 
 
 The Lord of heaven return your honor's love. 
 Confirm your joys, and a' your blessings roovo ! 
 
 PATiE (presenting Roger to Sir IVilliam). 
 Sir, here's my trusty friend, that always shared 
 My bosom-secrets, ore I was a laird. 
 Glaud'sdaughtor Janet— Jenny, think nao shame! — 
 Raised and maintains in him a lover's flamo. 
 Lang was he dumb, at lost he spak and won. 
 And hopes to bo our honest uncle's son ; 
 Bo pleased to speak to Glaud for his consent, 
 That none may wear a face of discontent. 
 
 My son's demand is fair ! — Glaud, let mo cr( 
 That trusty Kogor may your daughter have 
 With frank consent, and while ho does remain 
 Upon these fields, I make him chamberlain. 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 GLACD. 
 
 You crowd your bounties, sir ! — What can we S£ 
 But that we 're dyvours that can ne'er repay ? — 
 Whate'er your honor wills I shall obey. 
 Roger, my daughter with my blessing take, 
 And still our master's right your business make ; 
 Please him, be faithful, and this auld gray head 
 Shall nod with quietness down among the dead. 
 
 I ne'er was good at speaking a' my days, 
 Or ever loo'd to make o'er great a frase ; 
 But for my master, father, and my wife, 
 I will employ the cares of all my life. 
 
 My friends, I 'm satisfied you 'U all behave, 
 Each in his station, as I 'd wish or crave. 
 Be ever virtuous, soon or late ye '11 find 
 Reward and satisfaction to your mind. 
 The maze of life sometimes looks dark and wild, 
 And aft when hopes are highest we 're beguiled ; 
 Aft when we stand on brinks of dark despair. 
 Some happy turn with joy dispels our care. 
 Now all 's at rights, who sings best let me hear. 
 
 When you demand, I readiest should obey ; 
 I '11 sing you ane, the newest that I hae. 
 
 Tune.- 
 
 ' Corn-riggs are bonny. ^ 
 
 My Paty ie a lover gay, 
 
 His mind is never muddy, 
 His breath is sweeter than new hay, 
 
 His face is fair and ruddy ; 
 His shape is handsome, middle size ; 
 
 He 's comely in his wauking ; 
 The shining of his een surprise ; 
 
 'T is heaven to hear him tauking. 
 
 Last night I met him on a bawk 
 
 Where yellow corn was growing ; 
 There mony a kindly word he spak. 
 
 That set my heart a glowing. 
 He kissed, and vowed he wad be mine, 
 
 And loo'd me best of ony ; 
 That gars me like to sing sinsyne, 
 
 oorn-riggs are bonny ! 
 
 Let lasses of a silly mind 
 
 Refuse what maist they 're wanting. 
 Since we for yielding were designed, 
 
 AVe chastely should be granting ; 
 Then I '11 comply and marry Pate, 
 
 And syne my oockernony 
 He 's free to touzle air and late. 
 
 Where corn-riggs are bonny. 
 
 [Exeunt o 
 
Hiistir l^iilMs, etc., for Slaii. 
 
 GRAVES'S "BALLAD TO THE BIRDS." 
 
 Again the balmy zephyr blows, 
 
 Fresli verdure decks the grove, 
 Each bird with vernal rapture glows, 
 
 And tunes his note to love. 
 
 To gentle warblers, hither fly, 
 
 And shun the noontide heat ; 
 My shrubs a cooling .■ihade supply, 
 
 My groves a safe retreat. 
 
 Here freely hop from spray to spray, 
 
 Or weave the mossy nest ; 
 Here rove and sing the live-long day ; 
 
 At night hero sweetly rest. 
 
 Amidst this cool, translucent rill. 
 
 That trickles down the glade. 
 Here bathe your plumes, here drink your fill, 
 
 And revel in the shade. 
 
 No school-boy rude, to mischief prone, 
 
 K'cr shows his ruddy face, 
 Or twangs his bow, or hurls a stone, 
 
 In this sequestered place. 
 
 Hither the vocal thrash repairs. 
 
 Secure the linnet sings. 
 The goldfinch dreads no flimsy snares 
 
 To clog her painted wings. 
 
 Sad Philomel ! ah, quit thy haunt, 
 
 Yon distant woods among. 
 And round ray friendly grotto chaunt 
 
 Thy sweetly-plaintive song. 
 
 Let not the harmless red-breast fear. 
 
 Domestic bird, to come 
 And seek a sure asylum here, 
 
 With one that loves his home ! 
 
 My trees for you, ye artless tribe. 
 
 Shall store of fruit preserve ; 
 0, let mo thus your friendship bribe ! 
 
 Come '. — feed without reserve. 
 
 For you these cherries I protect, 
 
 To you these plums belong : 
 Sweet is the fruit that you have pecked, 
 
 liut sweeter far your song. 
 
 Let then this league, bctwiit us made, 
 
 Our mutual interests guard : 
 Mine be the gift of fruit and shade ; 
 
 Your songs be my reward. 
 
 BRETON'S "PHILLIDA AND CORYDON.' 
 
 I.N the merry month of May, 
 In a morn by break of day. 
 With a troop of damsels playing. 
 Forth I yode, forsooth, a maying ; 
 
 When anon by a wood side, 
 When as May was in hia pride, 
 I espied all alone 
 Phillida and Corydon. 
 
 Much ado there was, God wot ; 
 He wold love and she wold not. 
 She said never man was true, 
 He says none was false to you : 
 
 should have no wrong. 
 
 He said ho had 
 
 She says lov 
 
 Corydon wold kiss 
 
 She says, maids must kiss no men, 
 
 Till they do for good and all. 
 When she made the shepherd call 
 All the heavens to witness troth — 
 Never loved a truer youth. 
 
 Then with many a pretty oath, 
 Yea and nay, and faith and troth — 
 Such as seelie shepherds use 
 When they will not love abuse — 
 
 Love, that had been long deluded, 
 Was with kisses sweet concluded ; 
 And Phillida with garlands gay 
 Was made the Lady of the May. 
 
 BLOOMFIELD'S "LUCY;" 
 OR, "THE HOLIDAY." 
 Thy favorite bird is soaring, still : 
 
 My Lucy, haste thee o'er the dale ; 
 
 The stream 'a let loose, and from the mill 
 
 All silent comes the balmy gale ; 
 
 Y'et, so lightly on its way, 
 
 Seems to whisper, ' Holiday.* 
 
 The pathway flowers that bending meet 
 
 And give the meads tlieir yellow hue, 
 
 The May-bush and the meadow-sweet, 
 
 Reserve their fragrance all for you. 
 
 Why, then, Lucy, why delay ? 
 
 Let OS share the holiday. 
 
 17 
 
130 
 
 RURAL POETRY. BLOOMFIELD STREET - 
 
 Since there thy smiles, my charming maid, 
 
 Are with unfeigned rapture seen, 
 To beauty be the homage paid ! 
 
 Come, claim the triumph of the green. 
 Here 's my hand, come, come away ; 
 Share the merry holiday. 
 
 A promise, too, my Lucy made 
 
 (And shall my heart its claim resign ?) 
 
 That ero May flowers again shouM fade 
 
 Her heart and hand should both bo mine. 
 
 Hark ye, Lucy, this is May ; 
 
 Love shall crown oui- holiday. 
 
 STREET'S " EARLY GARDEN." 
 
 When the light flouri.-h nf tin- Mnd.iid sounds, 
 And the south wind cim ~ lihnully ; whrn the sky 
 Is soft in delicate blu.\ wjtii hmHiiii; ii^-.irl 
 Spotting its bosom, all pruclaiuiiiig sjniiig, 
 0, with what joy the garden spot we greet, 
 Wakening from wintry slumbers ! As we tread 
 The branching walks, within its hollowed nook 
 We see the violet by some lingering flake 
 Of melting snow, its sweet eye lifting up, 
 As welcoming our presence ; o'er our he.ods 
 The fruit-tree buds are swelling, and we hail 
 Our grateful task of moulding into form 
 The waste around us. The quick-delving spade 
 Upturns the fresh and odorous earth ; the rake 
 Smoothes the plump bed, and in their furrow'd 
 
 graves 
 We drop the seed. The robin stops his work 
 Upon the apple-bough, and flutters down. 
 Stealing, with oft checked and uplifted foot, 
 And watchful gaze bent quickly either side, 
 Toward the fallen wealth of food around the mouth 
 Of the light paper pouch upon the earth. 
 But, fearful of our motions, off he flies. 
 And stoops upon the grub the spade has thrown 
 Loose from its den beside the wounded root. 
 Days pass along. The pattering shower falls down, 
 And then the warming sunshine. Tiny clifts 
 Tell that the seed has turned itself, and now 
 Is pushing up its stem. The verdant pea 
 Looks out ; the twin-leafed, scalloped radish shows 
 Sprinkles of green. The sturdy bean displays 
 Its jaws distended wide, and slightly tongued. 
 The downy cucumber is seen ; the corn 
 Upshoots its close-wrapped spike, and on its mound 
 The young potato sets its tawny ear. 
 Meanwhile the fruit-trees gloriously have broke 
 Into a flush of beauty, and the grape, 
 Casting aside in peels its shrivelled skin, 
 Shows its soft furay leaf of delicate pink, 
 
 And the thick, midge-like blossoms round diffuse 
 A strong, delicious fragrance. Soon along 
 The trellis stretch the tendrils, sharply pronged. 
 Clinging, tenacious, -Mth their winding rings. 
 And sending on the stem. A sheet of bloom 
 Then decks the garden, till the summer glows, 
 Forming the perfect fruit. In showery nights 
 The flre-fly glimmers with its pendent lamp 
 Of greenish gold. Each dark nook has a voice, 
 While perfume floats on every wave of air. 
 The corn lifts up its bandrols long and slim ; 
 The cucumber has overflowed its spot 
 With massy verdure, while the yellow squash 
 Looks like a trumpet 'mid its giant leaves ; 
 And as we reap the rich fruits of our care. 
 We bless the God who rains his gifts on us — 
 Making the earth its treasures rich to yield 
 With slight and fitful toil. Our hearts should be 
 Ever bent harps, to send unceasing hymns 
 Of thankful praise to One who fills all space. 
 And yet looks down with smiles on lowly man. 
 
 HEYWOOD'S "SHEPHERD'S SONG." 
 We that have known no greater state 
 Than this we live in, praise our fate ; 
 For courtly silks in cares are spent. 
 When country's russet breeds content. 
 The power of sceptres we admire, 
 
 ; But sheep-hooks for our use desire. 
 
 !■ Simple and low is our condition, 
 
 For here with us is no ambition : 
 We with the sun our flocks unfold, 
 Whose rising makes their fleeces gold ; 
 Our music from the birds we borrow. 
 They bidding us, we them, good-morrow. 
 Our habits are but coarse and plain. 
 Yet they defend from wind and rain ; 
 
 1 As warm, too, in an equal eye, 
 
 I As those bestained in scarlet dye. 
 
 Tlie shepherd with his homespun lass 
 
 d..th ■ 
 
 girls, 
 and pearls 
 
 Nay, often with loss danger too. 
 Those that delight in dainties' store, 
 One stomach feed at once, no more ; 
 And, when with homely fare we feast, 
 With us it doth as well digest ; 
 .\nd many times we better speed, 
 For our wild fruits no surfeits breed. 
 If we sometimes the willow wear, 
 By subtle swains that dare forswear. 
 We wonder whence it comes, and fear 
 They 've been at court and learnt it thei 
 
fMslionu's "f orfst c'l;i(hs/' 
 
 A FOREST WALK IN SPRLNCi. 
 
 In ancient poet's comparison of l 
 ence of man aftur deatli witli tlie vt 
 vegetable world. Tlie lesson which c 
 deduced from that revival. 
 
 May. Forest trees. The angler. ' Forest (lowers. Anal- 
 ogy between the diversity of vegetable prmluctions and the 
 'its. Birds. Address to parents. 
 
 Appearance of a forest i 
 
 ■onr TO ucirr.— TiiK resitibectios. 
 ' The meanest herb we trample in the field, 
 Or in the garden nurture, when its leaf 
 
 In. 
 
 , forebodes t 
 
 
 And from short slumber wakes to life agait 
 
 Man wakes no more ! Man, peerless, valiant, wise, 
 
 Once chilled by death, sleeps hopeless in the dust, 
 
 A long, unbroken, never-ending sleep ! ' 
 
 Such was thy plaint, untutored bard,' when May, 
 
 As now, the lawns revived ! 'T was thine to rove 
 
 Darkling, ere yet from Death's reluctant shade, 
 
 In cloudless majesty, the Son of God 
 
 Sprang glorious ; while hell's ruler, he who late, 
 
 With frantic scoffs of triumph, to his powers 
 
 Pointed the sad procession as it moved 
 
 From Calvary to the yet unclosed tomb, — 
 
 Viewed the grave yield its Conqueror ; and, aghast. 
 
 Shunned, in the deepest midnight of his realms. 
 
 The wrath of earth's and heaven's Almighty Lord. 
 
 KiTCTtE'S 
 
 Said the desponding lay, * Man wakes no more' ? 
 blind ! who rcad'st not in the teeming soil. 
 The freshening meadow, and the bursting wood, 
 A nobler lesson ! — He who spake the word. 
 And the sun rose from chaos, while the abyss 
 From the new fires with sliuddcring surge recoiled ;■ 
 lie, at whose voice the moon's nocturnal beam. 
 And starry legions, on the admiring earth 
 Rained lustre ; He, whose providence the change 
 Of day and night and seasons crowned with food. 
 And health and peace proclaimed ; bade Nature's 
 Point to the scenes of dim futurity. [hand 
 
 lie on a world, in Gentile darkness lost. 
 Pitying looked down : He to bewildered man 
 Bade Spring, with annual admonition, hold 
 Her emblematic taper ; not with light 
 Potent each shade of doubt and fear to chase. 
 Yet friendly through the gloom to guide his way, 
 'Till the dawn crimsoned, and the impatient East, 
 Shouting for joy, the Day-star's advent hailed. 
 
 That star 
 ^ Moschus, 
 
 and, with a glow that shames 
 156 or 256 B. C. See note p. 28. 
 
 The sun's meridian splendor, has illumed 
 Eternity ! thy wonders : and as hills. 
 Far seen, by telescopic power draw nigh ; 
 Regions of bliss and realms of penal doom, — 
 More clear, more sure, than earth to mortal ken, — 
 Beyond the shades of death to Faith reveals ! 
 Yet may this sylvan wild, from Winter's grasp 
 Now rescued, bid the soul, on loftiest hope 
 Musing elate, anticipate the hour 
 When, at the Archangel's voice, the slumbering dust 
 Shall wake, nor earth nor sea withhold her dead : 
 When, starting at the crash of bursting tombs. 
 Of mausoleums rent, and pyramids 
 
 Heaved from their base, the tyrant of the grave, 
 
 Propped on his broken sceptre, while the crown 
 Falls from his head, — beholds his prison-house 
 Emptied of all its habitants ; beholds 
 Mortal in immortality absorbed. 
 Corruptible in incorruption lost. ' 
 
 JOT EXCIT8D DT THE RE.VOViTIOS OF PORESTS IX SPRWO : 
 ITS PBOr.RKSS DESCRIBED J THE OAK ; BEECH j iSO l HiW- 
 THORS i HOLLT ; WILLOW ; iSPES. 
 
 How swells the enraptured bosom, while the eye 
 Wanders unsated with delight from shade 
 To shade, from grove to thicket, from near groups 
 To yon primeval woods with darkening sweep 
 Retiring ; and with beauty sees the whole 
 Kindle, and glow with renovated life ! 
 For now, at Spring's reanimating call. 
 Each native of the forest, from the trunk. 
 Towering and huge, down to the tangled bush. 
 Its own peculiar character resumes. 
 Chief of the sylvan realms, its verdant wreath 
 With tender olive stained the oak protrudes. 
 Proud of a sheltered monarch, proud to lend 
 A chaplct still to British loyalty. 
 Even yet, with ruddy spoils from Autumn won 
 Loaded, the beech its lengthened buds untwines. 
 1(3 knotted bloom secured, the ash puts forth 
 The winged leaf ; the hawthorn wraps its boughs 
 In snowy mantle : from the vivid greens 
 That shine around, the holly. Winter's pride. 
 Recedes abashed : the willow, in yon vale, 
 Its silver lining to the breeze upturns ; 
 And rustling aspens shiver by the brook ; 
 
 TIIR STKEAMLBT IN SPBISO ; ITS FISH ; AI.DERS ; TROrTS ; 
 TUB angler's mishaps. 
 
 While the unsullied stream, from April showers 
 Refined, each sparkling pebble shows that decks 
 The bottom ; and each scaly habitant 
 Quick glancing in the shallows, or in quest 
 Of plunder slowly sailing in the deep. 
 There oft at eve, by shadowing alders veiled 
 
132 
 
 RURAL POETRY. GISBORNE. 
 
 From keen-eyed trouts, fixed where the sable flood 
 Mantled with foam, with twisted roots o'erhung. 
 Portends a giant prey — the angler drops 
 His fly in quivering circles on the pool, 
 Fluttering with mimic wings ; then, whila his hand 
 Trembles with hope, beholds, ill-omened sight, 
 That tells of dire misfortune ! fractured lines 
 Dependent, or in complicated folds 
 Linking the tangled boughs that sweep the stream, 
 And rise and fall with every passing wave. 
 
 rK'iiiatli III'' -v1\;mi .■iiiiopy, the ground 
 Glittir- nitli ll'iweiy .lyes : the primrose first 
 In mossy dell return of Spring to greet : 
 Pilewort, that o'er her roots of healing fame 
 Expands the radiance of her starry bloom : 
 Arum, that in a mantling hood conceals 
 Her sanguine club, and spreads her spotted leaf 
 Armed with keen torture for the unwary tongue : 
 Anemone,' now robed in virgin white, 
 Now with faint crimson blushing : fraudful spurge,^ 
 That seeks in beauty's garb her snares to hide, 
 In milky stream her poison veils, her stem 
 In ruddy mantle wraps, and from a zone 
 Of dusky foliage elevates more bright 
 Her crest of gold : sorrel,^ that hangs her cups. 
 Ere their frail form and streaky veins decay. 
 O'er her pale verdure, till parental care 
 Inclines the shortening stems, and to the shade 
 Of closing leaves her infant race withdraws : 
 Orchis ■> with crowded pyramids the bank 
 
 Purpling : the 
 
 harebell, as with grief depressed. 
 
 ning Hand, one Source supreme, 
 1. tiniis infinite, one Lord, 
 i^'lit, in wisdom, and in love ; 
 Willi vivifying beam 
 'nldin flood of life withdraws — 
 
 I Flourish or fade. 
 
 MUTCALLY HBLPFUL 1 
 
 Plans of accordant aim 
 Speak the same Author. Mark the varied dower 
 Of talent shared by man. These trace the laws 
 That bind the planet to its orb, and heave 
 The billowy tide. The helm of empire those 
 Rule, in the storm serene ; or poise the scales 
 Of justice ; or when mad ambition scoffs 
 The sacred league, nor recks the landmark, hurl 
 The long-suspended thunderbolt of war. 
 Some in translucent narrative recall 
 Past ages, or in visionary song 
 Heroic worth portray. Inventive, some 
 Call art the paths of life with needful aid 
 To smoothe, or grace with ornament. Some ply 
 The spade and ploughshare, skilful to foreknow 
 What best each soil may yield. Vain of his powers. 
 Thee, the great Giver, thee. Parent of good, 
 Man overlooks or scorns. Thy several gifts, 
 Harmonious though dissimilar, all conspire 
 To swell the sum of general bliss, all work 
 Thy Rlory ; all well pleasing in thy sight, 
 Uh.i'liad'4 thr .-hildren of the dust perform 
 Eu. h \n~ |.i .uliiu office, and, combined 
 In cim; vast l:uiiily with fraternal love. 
 Lend mutual aid, and praise their common God. 
 
 Bowing her fragrance : and the scentless plant,^ 
 That with the violet's borrowed form and hue 
 The unskilful wanderer in the grove deceives. 
 
 THE VARIOUS HiBrrS AND HABITATS OF PLANTS DESCRIBED. 
 UNITY IN THEIR VARIETY. 
 
 In size, in form, in texture, and in use, 
 How various are the tribes whose verdure warms 
 And decorates the earth ! Some from the wild 
 Untracked by foot of man, from mountain glens 
 And rifted crags precipitous, aloft 
 Urge their aspiring boles and knotted strength. 
 Destined with fleets to spread the main, or build 
 Engines, whose ponderous and convulsive strokes 
 Thundering shall rock the ground. With pensile 
 
 boughs 
 Some droop o'er willowy streams, and yield their 
 For humbler service. Some in grassy 
 And flowery broidure clad, with fragi 
 j AVith food sustain, the ani 
 >Vood-ani-i'i'>ii. Vii.tiri 
 
 bending itself back in 
 
 down its charge to the s 
 
 1 Orchis mascula, Lii 
 
 >Dog'3\ 
 
 He [growth 
 1 cheer, 
 
 cd world. 
 
 YOUMG i B 
 
 While thus the imprisoned leaves and waking 
 flowers 
 Burst from their tombs, the birds that lurked unseen 
 Amid the hybernal shade, in busy tribes 
 Pour their forgotten multitudes, and catch 
 New life, new rapture, from the smile of Spring. 
 The oak's dark canopy, the moss-grown thorns, 
 Flutter with hurried pinions, and resound 
 With notes that suit a forest ; some perchanoe, 
 Rude singly, yet with sweeter notes combined 
 In unison harmonious ; notes that speak, 
 In language vocal to the listening wood. 
 The fears and hopes, the griefs and joys, that heave 
 The feathered breast. Proud of cerulean stains 
 From heaven's unsullied arch purloined, the jay 
 Screams hoarse. With shrill and oft-repeated cry, 
 Her angular course, alternate rise and fall. 
 The woodpecker prolongs ; then to the trunk 
 Close clinging, with unwearied beak assails 
 The hollow bark ; through every cell the strokes 
 Roll the dire echoes that from wintry sleep 
 Awake her insect prey ; the alarmed tribes [stem : 
 Start from each chink that cleaves the mouldering 
 Their scattered flight with lengthening tongue the foe 
 
SPRING — MAY. 
 
 133 
 
 Pursues ; joy glistous on hor vordant plumos, 
 And brighter scarlet sparkles ou her crest. 
 From bough to bough the restless magpie roves, 
 And chatters as she flics. In sober brown 
 Drest, but with nature's tendercst pencil touched, 
 The wryneck her monotonous complaint 
 Continues ; harbinger ' of her who, doomed 
 Never the sympathetic joy to know 
 That warms the mother cowering o'er her young, 
 A stranger robs, and to that stranger's lovo 
 Hor egg commits unnatural : the nurse. 
 Unwitting of the change, hor nestling feeds 
 With toil augmented ; its portentous throat 
 Wondering she views with ceaseless hunger gape, 
 Starts at the glare of its capacious eyes. 
 Its giant bulk, and wings of hues unknown. 
 Meanwhile the little songsters, prompt to cheer 
 Their mates close brooding in the brake below. 
 Strain their shrill throats ; or, with parental art, 
 From twig to twig their timid offspring lead ; 
 Teach them to seize the unwary gnat, to poise 
 
 1 The Welsh and Snrcdes consider this bird as the for< 
 runner or servant of llic cuckiio, ami the Welsh call 
 'cuckoo's attendant ; * in mid EngtuiiU it is named ' cuckoo' 
 
 Their pinions, in short flights their strength to 
 And venturous trust the bosom of the air. 
 
 CARBFCL EDCCATIOX Of CinLDHEN t'RCl 
 
 ye ! whose knees a youthful progeny climbs, , 
 While mirth, the fruit of innocence and love, j 
 
 Dimples their cheeks, and shuts their laughing eyes, 
 Think on your charge ! Fast as the expanding mind 
 Imbibes the lesson, from her fount above 
 Bid truth in ampler stream infuse her lore. 
 Leave not, in vernal dawn when life invokes 
 Your culturing hand, the field to weeds a prey | 
 
 Native, quick sprouting : plant, with earliest oare. 
 The seeds you most desire should fill the soil ; 
 And nurse, with 7,eal proportioned to its worth, 
 Each rising produce. Teach your infant race 
 That 't is not theirs, like songsters of the grove. 
 Born but to sport and flutter for a Bay, 
 To dote on vain and transitory joys. 
 Teach them the harder, nobler task decreed 
 To prove the sons of Adam. Teach them love 
 Supreme of God, and, next to God, of man. 
 Teach them 't is theirs, in arduous conflict ranged, 
 'Gainst sin and powers of darkness, to make known 
 Their firm allegiance to the King of kings. * * ' 
 
 (Tusscr's "Hlau's Ijuslianiiri)." 
 
 Cold May and windy Forgotten month past. 
 
 Barn filleth up flncly. Do now at the last. 
 
 » * From May till October, leave cropping, forwhy? 
 In woodsere, whatever thou croppest will die ; 
 Where ivy embraceth the tree very sore, 
 Kill ivy, or else tree will addle no more. 
 Keep threshing for thresher till May be come in. 
 To have, to be suer, fresh chaff in thy bin ; 
 And somewhat to scamble, for hog and for hen, 
 And work, when it raincth, for loitering men. 
 Be suer of hay, and of provender some. 
 For laboring cattle, till pasture be come, 
 .\nd if ye do mind, to have nothing to sterve. 
 Have one thing or other, for all things to serve. '*' * 
 In May get a weud-hook, a crotch, and a glove. 
 And weed out sucli weeds as the corn doth not love. 
 For weeding of winter corn, now it is best ; 
 But .lune is the better for weeding the rest. 
 The May-weed doth burn, and the thistle doth fret ; 
 The fitches pull downward both rye and the wheat : 
 The brake and the cockle be noisome too much ; 
 Yet like unto boodle no weed there is such. 
 In May is good sowing thy buck or thy brank. 
 That black is as popper, and smelloth as rank : 
 It is to thy land as a comfort, or muck, * » 
 Sow buck after barley, or after thy wheat, 
 A peck to tho rood (if the measure be great). 
 Three earths see ye give it, and sow it above ; 
 And harrow it finely, if buck ye do love. • * 
 
 Good flax and good hemp to have of her own. 
 In May a good huswife will see it be sown ; 
 And afterwards trim it, to serve at a need. 
 The fimble to spin, and the carl for her seed. 
 Get into thy hop-yard, for now it is time 
 To teach Robin Hop on his pole how to climb : 
 To follow the sun as his property is. 
 And weed him and trim him, if aught go amiss. 
 Grass, thistle, and mustard-seed, hemlock, and bur. 
 Tine, mallow, and nettle that keep such a stur ; 
 With peacock and turkey that nibble off top. 
 Are very ill neighbors to seely, poor hop. * * 
 Take heed to thy bees, that are ready to swarm, 
 Tho loss thereof now is a crown's worth of harm ; 
 Let skilful be ready, and diligence seen. 
 Lest, being too careless, thou losest thy been. 
 In May, at the furthest, twifallow thy land ; 
 Much drought may else after cause plough for to 
 
 stand. • • 
 Twifallow once ended, get tumbrell and man. 
 And compaa that fallow, as soon as ye can. * * 
 Let children be hired to lay out their bones. 
 From fallow as needeth to gather up stones. * * 
 To grass with thy calves in some meadow-plot near. 
 Where neither their mothers may see them, nor hear: 
 Where water is plenty and barth to git warm. 
 And look well unto them, for taking of harm. 
 Pinch never thy wennels of water or meat. 
 If ever ye hope for to have them good neat. • • 
 
Isalms of Irinsc for Saij. 
 
 'OPE'S "UNIVERSAL PRAYER." 
 
 DEO OPT. MAX. 
 
 Father of all ! in every age, 
 
 In every clime, adored, 
 By saint, by savage, and by sage, 
 
 Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! 
 Thou grejt First Cause, least understood, 
 
 Who all my sense confined 
 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 mo not to do, 
 This teach me more than hell to shun, 
 
 That more than heaven pursue. 
 What blessings thy free bounty gives 
 
 Let me not cast away ; 
 For God is paid when man receives. 
 
 To 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 round 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, teach my heart 
 
 To find that better way. 
 Save me alike from foolish pride, 
 
 Or impious discontent 
 At aught thy wisdom has denied, 
 
 Or aught thy goodness lent. 
 Teach me to feel another's woe ; 
 
 To hide the fault I see ; 
 That mercy I to others show. 
 
 That mercy show to me. 
 
 Mean though I am, not wholly so, 
 quickened by thy breath ; 
 lie whcresoe'er I go, 
 
 is day's life or death. 
 
 lead 
 Through 
 
 This day, be bread and peace my lot : 
 
 All else beneath the sun. 
 Thou know'st if best bestowed or not j 
 
 And let thy will be done. 
 
 To Thee, whose temple is all space. 
 Whose altar, earth, sea, skies ! 
 
 One chorus let all being raise ! 
 All nature's incense rise ! 
 
 ADDISON'S "NINETEENTH PSALM. ^ 
 
 VEKSES 1— G. 
 
 The spacious firmament on high. 
 
 With all the blue, ethereal sky. 
 
 And spangled heavens, a shining frame. 
 
 Their great Original proclaim : 
 
 The unwearied sun, from day to day, 
 
 Does his Creator's power display. 
 
 And publishes to every land 
 
 The work of an Almighty hand. 
 
 Soon as the evening shades prevail, 
 The moon takes up the wondrous tale, 
 And nightly to the listening earth 
 Repeats the story of her birth : 
 While all the stars that round her bum. 
 And all the planets in their turn, 
 Confirm the tidings as they roll, 
 And spread the truth from pole to pole. 
 
 What though, in solenin silence, all 
 Move round the dark terrestrial ball ? 
 What though nor real voice, nor sound. 
 Amid their radiant orbs be found? 
 In reason's ear they all rejoice. 
 And utter forth a glorious voice, 
 Forever singing, as they shine, 
 ' The hand that made us is Divine ! ' 
 
-^M. 
 
 
 I • 
 
 'W if' 
 
 ^5^>S-' 
 
 SUMMER-JUNE 
 
 [jf Scroui) of t()c Seasons. 
 
 THOMSON-S " SUMJrER.' 
 
 The subject proposed. Invocation. Address to Mr. Dod- 
 inffton. An introductory rellection on the motion of the 
 heavenly bodies i wlience 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-risinir. Ilynin to the sun. Fore- 
 noon. Summer Insects described. Hay-mal£ing. Sheep- 
 shearing. Noon-day. A woodland retreat. Gr..up of 
 herds and flocks. A solemn prove ; how it affects a 
 contemplative mind. A cataract, and rude scene. View 
 of summer in the torrid lone. 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.cuiavatcd country ; which introduces a 
 Sunset. Evening. Night. 
 
 1 Great Britain 
 
 ; with 
 
 From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed, 
 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 blnshful face ; and earth, and skies, 
 All smiling, to his hot dominion leaves. 
 
 Hence, let me hosto into the mid-wood shade, 
 
 Where scarce a sunbeam wanders through the gloom; 
 And on the dark-green gniss, 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. 
 
 ISVOCATIOS TO ISSPniATIOS. 
 
 Come, Inspiration ! from thy hennit seat, 
 By mortal seldom found ; may Fancy dare. 
 From thy fixed serious eye, and raptured glanco 
 Shot on surrounding heaven, to steal one look 
 Creative of the poet, every power 
 E.\alting to an ecstasy of soul. 
 
 DF.DICATOBT TKIBrTK TO MB. BoniSOTOX. 
 
 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 chastised ; goodness and wit, 
 In seldom-meeting harmony combined ; 
 Unblemished honor, and an active zeal 
 For Britain's glory, liberty, and man : 
 Dodington ! ' attend my rural song, 
 
 1 The celebrated Bubb Dodington, Lord Melcombe, a 
 
136 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Stoop to my theme, inspirit every line, 
 And teach me to deserve thy just applause. 
 
 THE REVOmnONS OF TBE PLANETS AND OF THE EARTH 
 TEST OMNIPOTENT WISDOM. 
 
 With what an awful world-revolving power 
 Were first the unwieldy planets launched along 
 The illimitable void ! thus to remain, 
 Amid the flux of many thousand years, 
 That oft has swept the toiling race of men 
 And all their labored monuments away, 
 Pirra, unremitting, matchless, in their course ; 
 To the kind-tempered change of night and day, 
 And of the seasons ever stealing round, 
 Minutely faithful : such the All-perfect hand 
 That poised, impels, and rules the steady whole ! 
 
 TiTE MONTH OP JUNE. — DAWN OP A SPMMER MORNING 
 
 AVhen now no more the alternate Twins are fired, 
 And Cancer^ reddens with the solar blaze, 
 Short is the doubtful empire of the night ; 
 And soon, observant of approaching day, 
 The meek-eyed 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 quickened 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. 
 Roused 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 wis 
 To lie in dead oblivion, losing half 
 The fleeting moments of too short a life ; 
 Total extinction of the enlightened soul ! 
 Or else to feverish vanity alive, 
 Wildered, and tossing through distempered dri 
 Who would in such a gloomy state remain 
 Longer than Nature craves, when every muse 
 And every blooming pleasure waits without, 
 To bless the wildly-devious morning walk ? 
 
 1 The Crab, the fourth sign of the zodiac. 
 
 But yonder comes the powerful King of Day, 
 Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud. 
 The kindling azure; and the mountain's brow 
 Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach 
 Betoken glad. Lo ! now, apparent all, 
 Aslant the dew-bright earth, and colored air, 
 He looks in boundless majesty abroad ; 
 And sheds the shining day, that burnished plays 
 On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering 
 
 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, Sun ! 
 
 Soul of surrounding worlds ! in whom best seen 
 
 Shines out thy Maker ! may I sing of thee? 
 
 'T is by thy secret, strong, attractive force, 
 As with a chain indissoluble bound, 
 Thy system rolls entire : from the far bourn 
 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 ! [orbs 
 
 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 the unfettered mind. 
 By thee sublimed, down to the daily race. 
 The mixing myriads of thy setting beam ! 
 
 THE SUN THE 
 
 OF VEGETATION 
 
 The vegetable world is also thine. 
 Parent of Seasons ! who the pomp precede 
 That waits thy throne, as through thy vast domaii 
 Annual, along the bright ecliptic road. 
 In world-rejoicing state, it moves sublime. 
 Meantime the 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-fingered Hours, 
 The Zephyrs floating loose, the timely Rains, 
 Of bloom ethereal the light-footed Dews, 
 And softened 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 toucl; 
 From land to land is flushed the vernal year. 
 
 Nor to the surface of enlivened earth. 
 Graceful with hills and dales, and leafy woods, 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 187 
 
 Her liberal tresses, is thy force confined ; 
 But, to the bowoUed cavom darting deep, 
 The mineral Itinds confess thy mighty power. 
 Effulgent, hence the veiny marble sliinos ; 
 Iloncc Labor draws bis tools ; hcnoo burnished War 
 Gleams on the day ; the nobler works of Peace 
 Honoe bless mankind, and generous Commerce binds 
 The round of nations in a golden chain. 
 
 The unfruitful rock itself, improgned by thee, 
 In dark retirement forms the lucid stone. 
 The lively diamond drinks thy purest rays. 
 Collected light, compact ; that, polished 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 deepuning glow. 
 And with a waving radiance inward llames. 
 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, 
 MTion first she gives it to the southern gale. 
 Than the green emerald shows. But, all combined, 
 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 EPFSCT3 OP SraLIOOT OS STnE.\MS, BOCKS, OCEiS. 
 
 The very dead creation, from thy touch, 
 Assumes a mimic life. By thee refined, 
 In brighter mazes the relucent stream 
 Plays o'er the mead. The precipice abrupt, 
 Projecting horror on the blackened flood, 
 Softens at thy return. The desert joys. 
 Wildly, through all his melancholy bounds. 
 Kude 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, 
 .Arc to thy beauty, dignity, and use, 
 t'nequal far ; great delegated Source 
 Of light, and life, and grace, and joy below ! 
 
 IIow shall I then attempt to sing of Him ! 
 Who, light Himself, in uncreated light 
 Invested deep, dwells awfully retired 
 From mortal eye or angel's purer ken, 
 Whose single smile has, from the first of time, 
 Filled, overflowing, all those lamps of heaven. 
 That beam forever through the boundless sky : 
 Bnt, should Ho hide his face, the astonished sun, 
 And all the extinguished stars, would loosening reel 
 Wide from their spheres, and chaos come again. 
 
 PRAISE TO THE ALHiaHTT PATnuil. — DELIOH 
 
 And yet was every faltering tongue of man, 
 Almiohty Father ! silent in tliy praise. 
 Thy works themselves would raise a general voi( 
 E'en in the depths of solitary woods 
 By human foot untrod ; proclaim thy power, 
 And to the choir celestial Thee resound. 
 The eternal cause, support, and end of all ! 
 
 To me bo Nature's volume broad-displayed ; 
 And to peruse its all-in.<tructing page, 
 Or, haply catching inspiration thence. 
 Some easy passage, raptured, 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. 
 
 — flowehs wiltiso like a feve 
 
 Now, flaming up the heavens, the potent sun 
 Melts into limpid air the high-raised clouds. 
 And morning fogs, that hovered round the hills 
 In parti-colored bands : till wide unveiled 
 The face of Nature shines, from whore earth seems, 
 Far-stretehed 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 gfliil tnimt- Hint rarcless rills to muse ; 
 Wbiif u I, ml llrit, .|i-|. reading through the sky. 
 With i.i|.)'l nay. In- liurning influence darts 
 On m;iu, luiil Ijtitoi. miJ herb, and tepid stream. 
 
 Who can unpitying see the flowery race, 
 Shod by the mom, their new-flushed bloom resign 
 Before the parting beam ? so fade the fair. 
 When fevers revel through 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 enamored bosom to his ray. 
 
 prepakations I 
 
 I MAGPIE ; SUADE OF GRAY OAKS ; 
 
 Home, from his morning task, the swain retreats; 
 His flock before bim stepping to the fold : 
 AVhilc the full-uddered mother lows around 
 The cheerful cottage, then expecting food, 
 The food of innocence and health ! The daw. 
 The rook, and magpie, to the gray-grown oaks 
 That tlic calm village in their verdant arms. 
 Sheltering, embrace, direct their laiy flight ; 
 Where on the mingling boughs they sit embowered, 
 All the hot noon, till cooler hours arise. 
 Faint, underneath, the household fowls convene ; 
 And, in a comer of the buzzing shade, 
 The house-dog, with the vacant greyhound, lies. 
 Outstretched and sleepy. In his slumbers one 
 Attacks the nightly thief, and ono exults 
 O'er hill and dale ; till, wokened by the wasp. 
 They starting snap. Nor shall the Muse disdain 
 To let the little noisy summer race 
 Live in her lay, ifhd flutter through her song : 
 
138 
 
 RURAL POETRY. - 
 
 JMot mean, though simple : to the sun allied, 
 From him they draw their animating fire. 
 
 SUMMER INSECTS. - 
 
 ■ ray, the reptile young 
 
 Waked by his ■ 
 Come winged abroad ; by the light air upborne, 
 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 varied 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 snatched immediate by the quick-eyed trout. 
 Or darting salmmi. Through the green-wood glade 
 Some love to rtniv ; llniv In.l:;,.,!, amused, and fed. 
 In the fresh k-;] I . I.iimiimn , .-ihprs make 
 The meads tht'ir rlh,],,, ;im,{ vj-it ijvery flower. 
 And every latent laib ; tin ihv .sweet task. 
 To propagate their kinds, and where to wrap, 
 In what soft beds, their young yet undisclosed. 
 Employs their t.'ii.lcr care. Some to the house. 
 
 The 
 
 :ht ; 
 
 With powerless wings around them wrapt, expire. 
 
 A DESCRIPTION OF THE SProEB, HIS HUNTIXO AND HIS PRET 
 
 But chief to heedless flies the window proves 
 A constant death ; where, gloomily retired. 
 The villain spider lives, cunning and fierce, 
 Mixture abhorred ! Amid a mangled heap 
 Of carcasses, in eager watch he sits, 
 O'crlooking all his waving snares around. 
 Near the dire cell the dreadless wanderer oft 
 Passes, as oft the ruffian shows his front ; 
 The prey at last ensnared, he dreadful darts. 
 With rapid glide, ab.ng the loaning line ; 
 And, ti\!ii- 111 111,' iiHtili lii- cnicl fanss. 
 
 liivi.iiiiiN llir liMii- -ml: I' (he ground : 
 
 Or drowsy shepherd, as lie lies reclined, 
 
 With half-shut eyes, beneath the floating shade 
 
 Of willows gray, close-crowding o'er the brook. 
 
 Gradual, from these what numerous kinds descend, 
 Evading e'en the microscopic eye ! 
 Full Nature swarms with life ; one wondrous mass 
 Of animals, or atoms organized, 
 Waiting the vital breath, when PiJrent Heaven 
 
 Shall bid his spirit blow. The hoary fen. 
 In putrid streams, emits the living cloud 
 Of pestilence. Through subterranean cells, 
 Where searching sunbeams scarce can find a way, 
 
 Enrth.nnimntn-lhri,,,,.. Thv n.i„,,v leaf 
 
 That dance unnumbered 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, soothes. 
 
 Inflames, refreshes, or exalts the taste. 
 
 With various forms abounds. Nor is the stream 
 
 Of purest crystal, nor the lucid air, 
 
 Though one transparent vacancy it seems. 
 
 Void of their unseen people. These, concealed 
 
 By the kind art of forming Heaven, escape 
 
 The grosser eye of man ; for, if the wurlds 
 
 In worlds enclosed sb..ul,i im Iji- -in-, s burst. 
 
 From cates ambrosial, ami tin' utiiaiid bowl, 
 
 He would abhorrent turn, ami in diad night. 
 
 When silence sleeps o'er all, be stunned with noise. 
 
 MAN'S 
 
 "gs, 
 
 Let no presuming impious railer tax 
 Creative Wisdom, as if aught was formed 
 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-proportioned dome. 
 On swelling columns heaved, the pride of art, 
 A critic-fly, whose feeble ray scarce spreads 
 An inch around, with blind presumption bold. 
 Should dare to tax the strncture of the whole. 
 And lives the man, whose universal eye 
 Has swept at oiiro the unbounded scheme of th 
 
 Marked tli.ii ■{■■, I, i,. r -,,, and firm accord, 
 
 As with u II I I i ,11,1 conclude 
 
 Thatthisa ,, _!,, • lias any seen 
 
 The migiil\ ,i.,uii .,l li^mg-^, lessening down 
 From Infinite Perfection to the brink 
 Of dreary nothing, desolate abyss ! 
 From which astonished 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. 
 
 FATE OF INSECTS AND MAN. ' 
 
 Thick in yon stream of light, a thousand ways. 
 Upward, and downward, thwarting, and convolved, 
 The quivering nations sport ; till, tempest-winged. 
 Fierce Winter sweeps them from the face of day. 
 E'en so luxurious men, unheeding, pass 
 
SUMMER — JDNB. 
 
 139 
 
 An idle summer life in fortune's shine, 
 A season's glitter ! Thus they flutter on 
 From toy to toy, from vanity to vice j 
 Tin, blown away by death, oblivion comes 
 Behind, and strikes them from the book of life. 
 dat-uaking; vorrns ; maidrss ; ciiiLDnooo and agb.- 
 
 UOWING AND TENDING. ~80\'GS. 
 
 Now swarms the village o'er the jovial mead ; 
 The rustic youth, brown with meridian toil. 
 Healthful and strong ; full as the summer-rose 
 Blowu by prevailing suns, the ruddy maid, 
 Half naked, swelling on the sight, and all 
 Her kindled graces burning o'er her cheek. 
 E'en stooping age is here ; and infant-hands 
 Trail the long rake, or, with the fragrant load 
 O'crcharged, amid the kind oppression roll. 
 Wide flics 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 labor, love, and social glee. 
 
 Or rushing thence, in one difl'usive band. 
 They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog 
 Compelled, to where the mazy-running brook 
 Forms a deep pool ; this bank abrupt and high, 
 And that fair-spreading in a pebbled shore. 
 Urged to the giddy brink, much is the toil. 
 The clamor 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 : 
 Emboldened then, nor hesitating more, 
 Fast, fast they plunge amid the flashing wave, 
 And, panting, labor to the furthest shore. 
 Repeated this, till deep the well-washed fleece 
 Has drunk the flood, and from his lively haunt 
 The trout is banished 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 disturbed, and wondering what this wild 
 Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints 
 The country fill ; and, tos.sed from rock to rock. 
 Incessant blcatings run around the hills. 
 
 SUEKP-SHEABTNO ; MARKING SUBBP i IBB INDIGNANT RAM. — 
 
 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 the master's cipher ready stand j 
 Otliers the unwilling wether drag along ; 
 And, glorying in his might, the sturdy boy 
 Holds by the twisted horns the 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, 
 j \Vhat dumb complaining innocence appears ! 
 Fear not, ye gentle tribes, 't is not the knife 
 Of horrid slaughter that is o'er you waved ; 
 No, 't is the tender swain's well-guidcd shears, 
 Who, having now, to pay his annual care. 
 Borrowed your fleece, to you a cumbrous load, 
 Will send you bounding to your hills again. 
 
 At last, of snowy white, the gathered flocks 
 Are in the wattled pen, innumerous, pressed. 
 Head above head : and ranged in lusty rows 
 The shepherds sit, and whet the sounding shears. 
 The housewife waits to roll her fleecy stores. 
 With all her gay-dressed maids attending round. 
 One, chief, in gracious dignity enthroned, 
 
 A simple scene ! yet hence Britannia sees 
 Her solid grandeur rise : hence she commands 
 The 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, e'en now. 
 Impending hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coast ; 
 Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world. 
 
 'T is 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 dazzling deluge reigns ; and all 
 From pule to polo is undistinguished 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 parched, the cleaving fields 
 And slippery lawn an arid hue disclose. 
 Blast Fancy's bloom, and wither e'en the soul. 
 Echo no more returns the cheerful sound 
 Of sharpening scythe : the mower, sinking, heaps 
 O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfumed ; 
 And scarce a chirping grasshopper is heard 
 Through the dumb mead. Distressful Nature pants. 
 The very streams look languid from afar ; 
 Or, through the unsheltered glade, impatient, seem 
 To hurl into the covert of the grove. 
 
 APOSTROPHE TO HEAT FORBST SHADBS AND 0BL1D CAV- 
 ERNS. — UNDISTURBED VIRTUE. 
 
 AU-conquering Heat, 0, intermit thy wrath ! 
 And on my throbbing temples potent thus 
 Beam not so fierce ! incessant still you flow, 
 
RURAL POETRY. — THOMSON. 
 
 And still another fervent flood succeeds, 
 Poured 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 on the sunless side 
 Of a romantic mountain, forest-crowned, 
 Beneath the whole collected shade reclines : 
 Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought, 
 And fresh-bedewed with ever-spouting streams, 
 Sits coolly calm ; while all the world without, 
 Unsatisfied, and sick, tosses in noon. 
 Emblem instructive of'the virtuous man, 
 "Who keeps his tempered mind serene and pure. 
 And every passion aptly harmonized, 
 Amid a jarring world with vice inflamed. 
 
 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 herbaged brink. 
 Cool through the nerves your pleasing comfort glides ; 
 The heart beats glad ; the fresh-expanded eye 
 And ear resume their watch ; the sinews knit ; 
 And life shoots swift through all the lightened limbs. 
 
 A PICTCBB OF FLOCKS AND HERDS OS THE BANK OF A 
 STREAM. — THE OX*, THE SLUMBERING HEKDSMAN J mS 
 
 Around the adjoining brook, that purls along 
 The vocal grove, now fretting o'er a rock. 
 Now scarcely moving thrimgh a reedy pool, 
 Now starting to a sudden stream, and now 
 Gently diffused into a limpid plain ; 
 A various group 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, 
 AVhicii incomposed 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 sustained ; 
 Here laid his script, with wholesome viands filled ; 
 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, 
 Through all the bright severity of noon ; 
 While from their laboring breasts a hollow moan 
 Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills. 
 
 Oft in this season 
 
 mS PLCNGE INTO THE RIVE 
 
 30 the horse, provoked, 
 
 While his big sinews full of spirits swell, 
 Trembling with vigor, in the heat of blood, 
 Springs the high fence ; and o'er the field effused. 
 Darts on the gloomy iBood, with steadfast eye, 
 And heart estranged to fear : his nervous chest, 
 Luxuriant, and erect, the seat of strength ! 
 Bears down the opposing stream ; quenchless his 
 He takes the river at redoubled draughts, [thirst : 
 And with wide nostrils, snorting, skims the wave. 
 
 Still let mo pierce into the midnight depth 
 Of yonder grove, of wildest, largest growth ; 
 That, forming high in air a woodland choir, 
 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 the inspiring breath. 
 Ecstatic, felt ; and, from this world retired. 
 Conversed 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 warn the favored soul 
 For future trials fated to prepare ; 
 To prompt the poet, who devoted gives 
 His muse to better themes ; to soothe the pangs 
 Of dying worth, and from the patriot's breast 
 (Backward to mingle in detested war, 
 But foremost when engaged) to turn the death ; 
 And numberless such offices of love, 
 Daily, and nightly, zealous to perform. 
 
 Shook su>M. n n-.in !lir !M,.ni,i of the sky, 
 Athousniiil I :i .1 til wart the dusk, 
 
 Or stalk inai. !- i. I '< i -i-iised, I feel 
 A sacred tt-i i-i , ;i .-'-\- i ■■ iNli-ht, 
 Creep through my mortal frame ; and thus, methinks, 
 A voice, than human more, the 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 piirsuit. 
 Once some of us, like thee, through stormy life, 
 Toiled, 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, undisturbed 
 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 chanting from the wood-crowned hill. 
 The deepening dale, or inmost sylvan ghide : 
 A privilege bestowed by us, alone, 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 On Contemplation, or the hallowed i 
 Of poot, swelling to seraphic strain.' 
 
 And art thou, Stanley,' of that sacred band ? 
 Alas, for us so soon ! though raised above 
 The reach of human pain, above the flight 
 Of human joy ; yet, with a mingled ray 
 Of sadly pleased remembrance, must thou feel 
 A mother's love, a mother's tender woo, 
 Who seeks thee still, in many a former scene ; 
 Seeks thy fair form, thy lovely beaming eyes, 
 Thy pleasing converse, by gay, lively sense 
 Inspired, where moral wisdom mildly shone 
 Without the toil of art ; and virtue glowed. 
 In all her smiles, without forbidding pride. 
 But, thou best of parenta ! wipe thy tears ; 
 Or rather to Parental Xaturo pay 
 The tears of grateful joy, who for a while 
 Lent thee this younger self, this opening bloom 
 Of thy enlightened 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, 
 Through endless ages, into higher powers. 
 
 Thus up the mount, in airy vision rapt, 
 I stray, regardless whither, till the sound 
 Of a near fall of water every sense [back, 
 
 Wakes from the charm of thought : swift-shrinking 
 I check my steps, and view the brokon scene. 
 
 Smooth to the shi hill- liinl. i li^us flood 
 Rolls fair and placi. Li i i ill. 
 
 In one impetuous t' ill' ! >■■■-.. :• 'p 
 
 It thundering shoot-s ^md ;liik- ilr 'nuntry round. 
 At flrst, an azure sheet, it rushes broad ; 
 Then whitening by degrees, as prone it falls. 
 And, from the loud-resounding rocks below, 
 Dashed in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft 
 A hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless shower. 
 Nor can the tortured wave here find repose ; 
 But, raging still amid the shaggy rocks. 
 Now flashes o'er the scattered fragments, now 
 Aslant the hollowed channel rapid darts ; 
 And falling fast from gradual slope to slope. 
 With wild infracted course and lessened roar. 
 It gains a safer bed, and steals, at last. 
 Along the mazes of the quiet vale. 
 
 Invited from the cliff, to whoso dark brow 
 Ho clings, the steep-ascending eagle soars. 
 With upward pinions, through the flood of day ; 
 And, giving full his bosom to the blaze, 
 Gains on the sun ; while all the tuneful race, 
 Smit by afSiotive noon, disordered droop, 
 
 I the aulbor, who died at the 
 
 Deep in the thiokot ; or, from bower to bower 
 Responsive, force an interrupted strain. 
 The stock-dove only through the forest cooa, 
 Mournfully hoarse ; oft ceasing from bia plaint, 
 Short interval of weary woo ! again 
 The sad idea of his murdered mate. 
 Struck from his side by savago fowler's guile, 
 Across his fancy comes ; and then resounds 
 A louder song of sorrow tlirough the grovo. 
 
 Beside the dewy border let me sit, 
 All in the freshness of the humid air ; 
 There in that hollowed rock, grotesque and wild, 
 An ample chair moss-lined, and over head 
 By flowering umbrage shaded ; whore the bee 
 Strays diligent, and with the extracted balm 
 Of fragrant woodbine loads his little thigh. 
 
 Now, while I ta-i. il,, .„., tn. -s of the shade, 
 
 While nature li. - :m I -K r, lulkd in noon, 
 
 Now come, bold I ;ni. > , |i i I ;. .hiring flight. 
 And view the wuiidcii ul tin. t riid zone : 
 Climes unrelenting ! with whoso rage compared 
 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-lived twilight, and with ardent blaze 
 Looks gayly fierce through all the dazzling air : 
 He mounts his throne ; hut kind before him sends, 
 Issuing from out the portals of the mom. 
 The general breeze,' to mitigate his fire 
 And breathe refreshment on a fainting world. 
 Great are the scenes, with dreadful beauty crowned 
 And barbarous wealth, that see, each circling year, 
 Returning suns and 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 horizon wide diffused, 
 A boundless deep immensity of shadQ,. 
 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. 
 Unnumbered fruits, of keen delicious taste 
 And vital spirit, drink amid the cliffs. 
 And burning sands that bank the shrubby vales, 
 
 1 Which blows constantly between the tropics from the 
 east, or the collatcrat points, the north-enst and south-east : 
 cnusud hy the pressure of air towards the ^pace rarefied 
 progressively beneath the sun's rays, thus followini; his diur- 
 
KURAL POETRY. THOMSON. 
 
 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 through the green, 
 Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclined 
 Beneath thy .spreading tamarind, that shakes, 
 Fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit. 
 Deep in the night the massy locust sheds 
 Quench my hot limbs ; or lead me through the maze. 
 Embowering endless, of the Indian fig ; 
 Or, thrown at gayer ease on some fair brow. 
 Let me behold, by breezy murmurs cooled, 
 Broad o*er my head the verdant cedar wave. 
 And high palmettos lift their graceful shade. 
 Or, stretched amid ttipso orclinrds of the sun, 
 
 Give me to drain tli ii'- mills-y bowl. 
 
 And from the tiilm tn iluiw ii- IVcshening wine, 
 
 Whii-h [:,i ' liii !■ in-' Xur, on its slender twigs 
 Lo\v-ii' ' u II pomegranate scorned ; 
 
 Nor, i I. . ; 1,1 : I ,1 . ,i_:i the woods, the gelid race 
 Of b.iip ■ I'll III iiiiiiible station dwells 
 Unbiii.-iiiil u.. I I'll, a I "He fastidious pomp. 
 Witiir--, ilinii lir-i an, Ilia, thou the pride 
 Of vi'^.talilr lilr, bryoiid whate'er 
 The poets imaged iu the golden age : 
 Quick let me strip thee of thy tufty coat. 
 Spread thy ambrosial stores, and feast with Jove. 
 
 From these the prospect varies. Plains immense 
 Lie stretched below, interminable meads, 
 And vast savannas, where the wandering eye, 
 Unfixed, is iu 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-embroidered robe to fiery brown, 
 And swift to green again, as scorching suns. 
 Or streaming dews and torrent rains, prevail. 
 
 THE SOLITCDES OF THE TROPICS.— 
 
 Along those lonely regions, where, retired 
 From little scenes of art, great Nature dwells 
 In awful solitude, and naught is seen 
 
 But till- wiM lirnis that own no master's stall, 
 Prodii^iiiii- ri\.r--inll their fattening seas, 
 
 On Willi-- !mmu iiuit la iliagc, h;llf-eonPO!lled, 
 
 Lika a l.ill. I. -•!,|. I ii-.lilTii-i-'I lii- I, all,, 
 Casail ,1, ... I, !- I . I . . I -, 
 
 The 111" i . . |ai: ■ . .-- ' i -, II 
 
 BehiaiailJi nai- In- laail i:i, i.il liMluljl.- .,1 
 
 The darted steel iu idle shivers files ; 
 
 He feoi-lcss walks the plain, or seeks the hills. 
 
 Where, as he crops his varied fare, the herds, 
 
 In widening circle round, forget their food, 
 And at the harmless stranger wondering gaze. 
 
 THE ELEPHANf. — NIGER. — GANGES. 
 
 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 blackening woods. 
 High-raised in solemn theatre around. 
 Leans the huge elephant : wisest of brutes ! 
 truly wise, with gentle might endowed. 
 Though 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, 
 Astonished 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 ha 
 That with a sportive vanity has decked 
 The plumy nations, there her gayest hues 
 Profusely pours. But, if she bids them shine. 
 Arrayed 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, 
 Through the soft silence of the listening night, 
 The sober-suited songstress trills her lay. 
 
 But come, my muse, the desert-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 -".ial r.iiimiaMi- ai.iiia.t t" 1 1 -I i tlair wealth; 
 
 Aiiit tiiiMuah till- land, yrt rnl IVam i-i\il wounds. 
 To spread the purple tyranny of Homo. 
 Thou, like the harmless bee, may'st freely range 
 Finui mead to mead bright with exalted flowers, 
 
 rn.iii ia-niilir -ri.va In ;;i,im. iiiayVt wander gay. 
 
 i-d hills, 
 
 1 In all the regions of the torrid : 
 more beautiful iu their plumage, d 
 melodious than ours. 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 There on the breezy summit, spreading fair 
 For many a league ; or on stupendous rooks, 
 That from the sun-redoubling valley lift, 
 Cool to the middle air, their lawny toi)3 ; 
 AVbcre palaces, and fanes, and villas rise ; 
 And gardens smile around, and cultured 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 breatliing from the spicy groves, 
 And vales of fragrance ; there at distance hear 
 The roaring floods and cataracts, that sweep 
 From disembowelled earth the virgin gold ; 
 And o'er the varied landscape, restless, rove, 
 Fervent with life of every fairer kind : 
 A land of wonders ! which the sun still eyes 
 AVith ray direct, as of the lovely realm 
 Enamored, and deligliting there to dwell. 
 
 tREMENDOUS SnoWKBS OF THE TROPICS. — TERRIFIC TIIU.S-- 
 DBR AND UOHTNINO. 
 
 How changed the scene ! In blazing height of 
 
 The sun, oppressed, is plunged in thickest gloom. 
 
 Still horror reigns, a dreary twilight round 
 
 Of struggling night and day malignant mixed. 
 
 For to the hot equator crowding fast, 
 
 Where, highly rarefied, the yielding air 
 
 Admits their stream, incessant vapors roll, 
 
 Amazing clouds on clouds continual heaped ; 
 
 Or whirled tempestuous by the gusty wind, 
 
 Or silent borne along, heavy, and slow, 
 
 With the big stores of steaming oceans charged. 
 
 Meantime, amid these upper seas, condensed 
 
 Around the cold aerial mountain's brow, 
 
 And by conflicting winds together dashed. 
 
 The thunder holds his black tremendous throne : 
 
 From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage ; 
 
 Till, in the furious elemental war 
 
 Dissolved, 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 (iojain's sunny realm. 
 Pure-welling out,' he through the lucid lake 
 Of fair Damboa rolls his infant stream. 
 There, by the Naiiids nursed, ho 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 mellowed treasures of the sky, 
 Winds in progressive majesty along : 
 Through splendid kingdoms now devolves his maze. 
 Now wanders wild o'er solitary tracts 
 Of life-deserted sand ; till glad to quit 
 
 1 Another branch rises south of the equator. 
 
 The joyless desert, down the Nubian rooks, 
 From thundering stoop to steep, ho pours hii 
 And Egypt joys beneath the spreading wave 
 
 THE NIOER, AND RIVERS OF THE BAST. — MKNAH. - 
 
 llis brother Niger too, and all the floods 
 In which the full-formed maids of Ai'ric hivi 
 Their jetty limbs ; and all that from the tra 
 Of woody mountains stretched through gorge 
 Fall on Cor'mandel's coast, or Malabar ; 
 From iMenam'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. 
 
 Ind 
 
 ZON ; PLATA AND OTUSR RIVERS. 
 
 Nor less thy world, Columbus, drinks, refreshed, 
 The lavish moisture of the melting year. 
 Wide o'er his isles the branching Oronoquo 
 Rolls a brown deluge, and the native drives 
 To dwell nioft on life-^ufficinp trees. 
 At .mr,. hi..l :, ■ ■ ' ' ^ •■ • ,. I ,,„„. 
 
 The nii-htl ih, ■:: . 
 
 Dares HtretWMKT«i.,-n\., ,h, ,„.„,„,„- ,„asg 
 
 Of rushing water ; .scan-r -li.^ .Ijn- :iii, -iii.t, • 
 
 The sea-like Plata, to wIi.im' .Im ,i.i r.\|i;iiis,-. 
 
 Continuous depth, and wondrou?; 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 deserts, worlds of solitude. 
 
 Where the sun smiles, and seasons teem in vain. 
 
 Unseen, and unenjoycd. Forsaking these, 
 
 O'er peopled plains they fair-<liff'usive flow. 
 
 And many a nation feed, and circle safe. 
 
 In their soft bosom, many a happy isle ; 
 
 The seat of blameless Pan, yet undisturbed 
 
 liy Christian crimes and Europe's cruel sons. 
 
 Thus pouring on they proudly seek the deep. 
 
 Whose vanquished tide, recoiling from the shock. 
 
 Yields to this liquid weight of half the globe. 
 
 And Ocean trembles for his green domain. 
 
 UUIENTAB 
 
 ARTS, SCIENCE, POETRY, OR FREEDOM. 
 
 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 ? 
 liy vagrant birds dispersed, and wafting winds ; 
 What their unplanted fruits ? what the cool 
 
 draughts. 
 The ambrosial food, rich gums, and spicy health, 
 Their forests yield ? Their toiling insects what ? 
 Their silky pride, and vegetable robes ? 
 
 1 The river that runs throuRh Siam, on wlin»e bunks a 
 vast multituile of those Insects called Brf-llies make a 
 beautiful appearance at night. 
 
144 
 
 KUKAL POETRY. THOMSON. 
 
 . 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 tempered breast ; 
 Progressive truth, the patient force of thought ; 
 Investigation calm, whose silent powers 
 Command the world ; the light that leads 
 
 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 son TYRASNIZES OVER 
 
 The parent sun himself 
 Seems o'er this world of slaves to tyrannize ; 
 And, with oppressive ray the roseate bloom 
 Of beauty blasting, gives thp L'lo"iiiy lino. 
 And feature gross : or w.hm , i,, milil. -. .],;•>]-. 
 Mad jealousy, blind ragi', ami 1.11 inrn^r. 
 Their fervid spirit fires. L"i. ,l«, II- ,„.( tlurr, 
 The soft regards, the tenderness of life. 
 The beart-shed tear, the 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. 
 
 TROPICAL SEBPESTS. 
 
 Lo ! the green serpent, from his dark abode, 
 "Which e'en 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, diB'used, 
 He throws his folds : and while, with threatening 
 And deathful jaws erect, the monster curls [tongue 
 His flaming crest, all other thirst, appalled, 
 Or shivering flies, or checked at distance stands. 
 Nor dares approach. But still more direful he, 
 The small close-lurking minister of fate. 
 Whose high-eoncooted venom through the veins 
 A rapid lightning darts, arresting swift 
 The vital current. Formed to humble man. 
 This child of vengeful Nature ! there, sublimed 
 To fearless lust of blood, the savage race 
 Roam, licensed by the shading hour of guilt. 
 And foul misdeed, when the pure day has shut 
 His sacred eye. 
 
 THE tiger; leopard ; HYENA. — MAURITANIA ', LYBIA.— THE 
 
 The tiger darting fierce, 
 Impetuous on the prey his glance has doomed j 
 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 froni 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 imperious 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. The awakened village starts ; 
 And to her fluttering breast the mother strains 
 Her thoughtless infant. From the pirate's den, 
 Or stern Morocco's tyrant fang, escaped, 
 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, 
 S.iiirty. cut off, is left alone 
 Aiuhl ihts world of death. Day after day. 
 Sail Mil the jutting eminence he sits, 
 And views the main that ever toils below ; 
 Still fondly forming in the farthest verge. 
 Where the round ether mi-tes 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 hiss continual through the tedious night. 
 Yet here, e'en here, into these black abodes 
 Of monsters, unappalled, from stooping Rome, 
 And guilty Cffisar, Liberty retired. 
 Her Cato following through 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 splendid robber's boon. 
 
 THE SI.MOOM AND SANDSTOItSI ", TOE CAMEL ; SANDSPOUTS } 
 
 Nor stop the terrors of these regions here. 
 Commissioned demons oft, angels of wrath. 
 Let loose the raging elements. Breathed 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 desert '. e'en the camel feels. 
 Shot through his withered heart, the fiery blast. 
 Or from the black-red ether, bursting broad, 
 Sallies the sudden whirlwind. Straight the sands, 
 Commoved 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, 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 145 
 
 Or sunk at night in sad disiistrous elcop, 
 Beneath descending hills the caravan 
 Is buried deep. In Cairo's crowded streets 
 Th' impatient merchant, wondering, waits i 
 And Mecca saddens at the long delay. 
 
 OCEA.VIC TROPICAL STOBMS i TYl-HOOSS ; 
 
 But chief at sea, whoso every floxilo wave 
 Obeys the blast, the aerial tumult swells. 
 In the dread ocean, undulating wide, 
 Beneath the radiant lino that girts the globe, 
 The circling Typhon, whirled from point to point, 
 Exhausting all the rage of all the sl^y. 
 And dire Ecnephia,' reign. .\mid the heavens, 
 Falsely serene, deep in a cloudy speck ' 
 Compressed, the mighty tempest brooding dwells ; 
 Of no regard save to the skilful eye. 
 Fiery and foul, the small prognostic hangs 
 Aloft, 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 fixed the sailor stands. 
 Art is too slow : by rapid fate oppressed. 
 His broad-winged vessel drinks the whelming tide, 
 Ilid in the bosom of the black abyss. 
 
 ViSCO DB OAJIA. 
 
 With such mad seas the daring Gama' fought. 
 For many a day, and many a dreadful night, 
 Incessant, laboring round the stormy Cape ; 
 By bold ambition led, and bolder thirst 
 Of gold. For then from ancient gloom emerged 
 The rising world of trade : the Genius, then. 
 Of navigation, that, in hopeless sloth, 
 Had slumbered on the vast Atlantic deep 
 For idle ages, starting, heard at last 
 The Lusitanian prince ; * who. Heaven-inspired, 
 To love of useful glory roused mankind. 
 And in unbounded commerce mixed the world. 
 
 THE SHABK ; SLAVERS ; VICTIMS. 
 
 Increasing still the terrors of these storms. 
 His jaws horrific armed with throe-fold fate. 
 Here dwells the direful shark. Lured by the scent 
 Of steaming 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, 
 
 > Typhon and Kcnephin, 
 
 ■rricanes, kr '-- ^-*- 
 
 J Callcil by 
 first no bigger. 
 
 ^ Vasco de Gama, the first who sailed round Africa, by 
 the Cape of Good Hope, to the East Indies. 
 
 * Don Henry, tllird son to John the First, King of Portu- 
 gal. His strong genius to the discovery of new countries 
 was the chief source of all the modem improvements in 
 navigation. 
 
 Demands his share of prey, demands themselves. 
 The stormy fates descend : ono death involves 
 Tyrants and slaves ; when straight, their mangled 
 Crashing at once, ho dyes the purple seas [limbs 
 With goro, 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 stream : from swampy fens. 
 Whore putrefaction into life ferments. 
 And breathes destructive myriads ; or from woods, 
 Impenetrable shades, recesses foul. 
 In vapors rank and blue corruption wrapt. 
 Whose gloomy horrors yet no desperate foot 
 Has ever dared to pierce ; then, wasteful, forth 
 Walks tho dire Power of pestilent disease. 
 A thousand hideous fiends her course attend, 
 Sick nature blasting, and to heartless woo 
 And feeble desolation, casting down 
 The towering hopes and all the pride of man. 
 
 THE EPIDEMIC IS VERNOS'S PLEET, AT CARTDAGKNA, NEW 
 GKE.SADA, DESCRIBED. 
 
 Such as of late, at Carthagena, quenched 
 The British fire. You, gallant Vernon, saw 
 The miserable scene ; you, pitying, saw 
 To infant weakness sunk the warrior's arm j 
 Saw the deep-racking pang, the ghastly form. 
 The lip pale-quivering, and the beamless eye 
 No more with ardor bright ; you heard the groans 
 Of agonizing ships, from shore to shore ; 
 Heard nightly plunged amid the sullen waves 
 The frequent corse ; while on each other fi.xed, 
 In sad presage, the blank assistants seemed. 
 Silent, to ask, whom Fate would next demand. 
 
 What need I mention those inclement skies. 
 Where, frequent o'er tho sickening city. Plague, 
 The fiercest child of Nemesis divine. 
 Descends? From Ethiopia's poisoned woods. 
 From stifled Cairo's filth and fetid fields 
 With locust armies putrefying heaped,' 
 This great destroyer sprung. Her awful rago 
 The brutes escape ; man is her destined 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 stained 
 With many a mixture by the sun, suffused. 
 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 hushed the clamor of the busy world. 
 Empty tho streets, with uncouth verdure clad ; 
 
146 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — THOMSON. 
 
 Into the worst of deserts sudden turned 
 
 The cheerful haunt of men : unless escaped 
 
 From the doomed 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 himselt, 
 Savage by woe, forget the tender tie. 
 The Tweet 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 unmourned. 
 Thus o'er the prostrate city black Despair 
 Extends her raven wing : while to complete 
 The scene of desolation, stretched around, 
 The grim guards stand, denying all retreat. 
 And give the flying wretch a better death. 
 
 GEKEEAI. EFFECTS OP HEiT ; DROUGHT ; VOLCANOES •, 
 EARTHQCAKES. 
 
 Much yet remains unsung : the rage intense 
 Of brazen-vaulted skies, of iron fields, 
 Where drought and famine starve the blasted year 
 Fired by the torch of noon to ten-fold rage, 
 The infuriate hill that shoots the pillared flame, 
 And, roused within the subterranean world, 
 The expanding earthquake, that resistless shakes 
 Aspiring cities from their solid base. 
 And buries mountains in the flaming gulf. 
 But 'tis enough ; return, my vagrant Muse : 
 A nearer scene of horror calls thee home. 
 
 Descend : the tempest-loving raven scarce 
 Dares wing the dubious dusk. In rueful gaze 
 The cattle stand, and on the scowling heavens 
 Cast a deploring ejB ; by man forsook, 
 Who to the crowded cottage hies him fast. 
 Or seeks the shelter of the downward cave. 
 'T is listening fear, and dumb amazement all : 
 When to the startled eye the sudden glance 
 Appears far south, eruptive through the cloud ; 
 And following slower, 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 burden 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 loosened aggravated roar, 
 Enlarging, deepening, mingling ; peal on peal 
 Crushed horrible, convulsing heaven and earth. 
 
 IAIN ; UGHTNING ; BLASTED 
 ) TOWER -, CAERNARVON ; PE: 
 ■ t-.v.riT Hii.i-S .. THE SCOTCH I 
 
 THE tempest; MINERAL EXHALATIONS; WARRING CLOTOS. 
 
 Behold, slow-settling o'er the lurid grove, 
 Unusual darkness broods, and, growing, gains 
 The full possession of the sky, surcharged 
 With wrathful vapor, from the secret beds, 
 Where sleep the mineral generations, drawn. 
 Thence nitre, sulphur, and the flery spume 
 Of fat bitumen, steaming on the day. 
 With various-tinctured trains of latent flame, 
 Pollute the sky, and in yon baneful cloud 
 A reddening gloom, a magazine of fate, 
 Jerment ; till, by the touch ethereal roused. 
 The dash of clouds, or irritating war 
 Of fighting winds, while all is calm below. 
 They furious spring. 
 
 .. ™.TTiT. DncPPnS'S A TEMPEST ; THE BIRDS ; 
 THE AWFDL CALM THAT PRECEDES f/fj "^ ' 
 
 THE RAVEN ; CATTLE ; THONDER AND LigUTMNO. 
 
 A boding silence reigns 
 Dread through 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, the aerial tribes 
 
 A DELUGE OF 
 
 Down comes a deluge of sonorous hail. 
 Or prone-descending rain. Wide-rent, the clouds 
 Pour a whole flood ; and yet, its flamo unquenched, 
 Th' inconquerable lightning struggles through, 
 Ragged and fierce, or in red whirling balls, 
 And fires the mountains with redoubled rage. _ 
 Black from the stroke, above, the smouldering pine 
 Stands a sad, shattered trunk; and, stretched below, 
 A lifeless group the blasted cattle lie : 
 Here the soft flocks, with that same harmless look 
 They wore alive, and ruminating still 
 I In Fancy's eye ; and there the frowning bull 
 And ox half-raised. Struck on the castled chff. 
 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 crash. 
 Into the flashing deep from the rude rocks 
 Of Penmanmaur heaped 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 through her utmost isles. 
 
 CELADON AND AMELIA ; THEIR STORT. 
 
 Guilt hears appalled, with deeply-troubled 
 And yet not always on the guilty head [thought ; 
 Descends the fated flash. Young Celadon 
 And his Amelia were a matchless pair ; 
 With equal virtue formed, and equal grace, 
 The same, distinguished by their sex alone : 
 Hers, the mild lustre of the blooming morn. 
 And his, the radiance of the risen day. 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 147 
 
 Thoy loved : but such Ihcir guileless passion was 
 As in the dawn of time informed the heart 
 Of innocence and undisscmblini; truth. 
 'Twas friendship, heightened by tho mutual wish ; 
 The enchanting hope, and sympathetic glow, 
 Beamed from tho mutual eye. Devoting all 
 To love, each wa-s to each a dearer self; 
 Supremely happy in tho awakened power 
 Of giving joy. Alone, amid tho shades. 
 Still in harmonious intercourse they lived 
 The rural day, and talked the flowing heart, 
 Or sighed and looked unutterable things. 
 
 So passed their life, a clear united stream, 
 By care unruffled ; till, in evil hour. 
 The t«mpest caught them on the tender walk, 
 Heedless how far and where its mazes strayed, 
 While, with each other blest, creative love 
 Still bade eternal Eden smile around. 
 Presaging instant fate, her bosom heaved 
 Unwonted sighs, and, stealing oft a look 
 Of tho big gloom, on Celadon her eye 
 Fell tearful, wetting her disordered check. 
 In vain assuring love, and confidence 
 In Heaven, repressed her fear ; it grew, and shook 
 Her frame near dissolution. 
 
 TRCST IS THE DIVINE PROVTPENTE. — AMELIA STRrCK DEAU 
 
 He perceived 
 The unequal conflict, and, as angcl.s look 
 On dj'ing saints, his eyes compassion shed. 
 With love illumined high. 'Fear not,' he said, 
 ' Sweet innocence ! thou stranger to offence. 
 And inward storm ! He, who yon skies involves 
 In frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee 
 With kind regard. O'er thee tho secret shaft 
 That wastes at midnight, or the undreadcd hour 
 Of noon, flies harmless ; and that very voice. 
 Which thunders terror through the guilty heart. 
 With tongues of seraphs whispers peace to thine. 
 'T is safety to be near thee sure, and thus 
 To clasp perfection ! ' From his void embrace 
 (Mysterious Heaven !) that moment, to the ground, 
 A blackened cor.sc, was struck tho beauteous maid. 
 But who can paint tho lover, as he stood. 
 Pierced by severe amnicment, hating life. 
 Speechless, and fi.xcd in all the death of woe ! 
 So (faint resemblance !) on the marble tomb. 
 The well-dissembled mourner stooping stands, 
 Forever silent, and forever sad. 
 
 ASD ADORATION. 
 
 As from the face of Heaven the shattered clouds 
 Tumultuous rove, tho interminable sky 
 Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands 
 
 A purer azuro. Through the lightened 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 revived. 
 'T is beauty all, and grateful song around. 
 Joined to the low of kine, and numerous bloat 
 Of flocks thick -nibbling through tho clovcrcd vale; 
 And shall tho hymn be marred by thankless man. 
 Most favored ! who with^oice articulate 
 Should lead tho chorus of this lower world ; 
 Shall he, so soon forgetful of the Hand 
 That hushed the thunder, and serenes tho sky, 
 E.xtinguished feci that spark tho tempest waked, 
 That sense of powers exceeding far his own. 
 Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears ? 
 
 Cheered by the milder beam, the sprightly youth 
 Speeds to the well-known pool, whose crystal depth 
 A sandy bottom shows. A while he stands 
 Gazing the inverted landscape, 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 through the obedient wave, 
 At each short breathing by his lip repelled. 
 With arms and legs according well, he makes, 
 As humor leads, an easy-winding path ; 
 While, from his polished sides, a dewy light 
 Effuses on the pleased 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 preserved. 
 By the bold swimmer, in tho swift illapse 
 Of accident disastrous. Hence the limbs 
 Knit into foroe ; and tho same Roman arm. 
 That rose victorious 6'or the conquered earth. 
 First learned, while tender, to subdue the wave. 
 E'en from the body's purity tho mind 
 Receives a secret, sympathetic aid. 
 
 Close in the covert of a hazel copse. 
 Where, winded into pleasing solitudes. 
 Runs out tho rambling dale, young Damon sat. 
 Pensive, and pierced with love's delightful pangs. 
 There to the stream that down the distjint rocks 
 Hoarse murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that 
 Among the bending willows, falsely ho [played 
 Of Musidora's cruelty complained. 
 She felt his flame ; but deep within hor breast, 
 In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride. 
 The soft return concealed, save when it stole 
 In sidelong glances from her downcast eye. 
 Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs. 
 
148 
 
 RURAL POETRY. THOMSON. 
 
 Touched by the scene, no stranger to his vows, 
 He framed a melting lay to try her heart ; 
 And, if an infant passion struggled there. 
 To call that passion forth. Thrice happy swaii 
 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 glowed ; 
 And, robed in loose array, she came to bathe 
 Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream. 
 What shall he do ? In sweet confusion lost, 
 And dubious flutterings, he a while remained ; 
 A pure ingenuous elegance of soul, 
 A delicate refinement, known to few. 
 Perplexed his breast, and urged him to retire : 
 But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, say. 
 Say, y -.1.1.-1, nliiit would you have done? 
 Meunliiii. , llii- l:.i'. 1 iiymph than ever blest 
 Ar«i.ii:iii -ii.:i]ii, mil. timid eye around 
 The bauk.^ tuivt'ving, stripped her beauteous limbs. 
 To taste the lucid coolness of the flood. 
 Ah, then ! not Paris on the piny top 
 Of Ida panted stronger, when aside 
 The rival goddesses the veil divine 
 Cast unconfined, and gave him all their charms, 
 Than, Damon, thou ; as from the snowy leg. 
 And slender foot, the inverted silk she drew ; 
 As the soft touch dissolved the virgin zone ; 
 And, through the parting robe, the alternate breast, 
 With youth wild throbbing, on thy lawless gaze 
 In full lu.xuriance rose, i:..!, -L -|.. ...i. y..i>th. 
 How durst thou risk 111.' ..' ! ' : i:.. i i.'w. 
 As from her naked liuil.- .'''. 
 
 Harmonious swelled by -\ - ii... -' limd. 
 
 In folds loose-floating fell the faiiitLT Inwu; 
 And fair-exposed she stood, shrunk from herself. 
 With fancy blushing, at the doubtful breeze 
 Alarmed, and starting like the fearful fawn ? 
 Then to the flood she rushed ; the parted flood 
 Its lovely guest with closing waves received ; 
 And every beauty softening, every grace 
 Flushing anew, a mellow lustre shed : 
 As shines the lily through the crystal mild ; 
 Or as the rose amid the morning dew, 
 
 Such maddening draughts of beauty to the soul, 
 As for a while o'erwhelmed his raptured thought 
 With luxury too daring. 
 
 Checked, at last. 
 By love's respectful modesty, he deemed 
 The theft profane, if aught profane to love 
 Can e'er be deemed; and, struggling from the shade 
 
 With headlong hurry fled : but first these lines, 
 
 Traced by his ready pencil, on the bank 
 
 With trembling han4 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 surprise. 
 
 As if to marble struck, devoid of sense, 
 
 A stupid moment motionless she stood : 
 
 So stands the 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, arrayed 
 
 In careless haste, the alarming paper snatched. 
 
 But, when her Damon's well-known hand she saw, 
 
 Her terrors vanished, and a softer train 
 
 Of mixed emotions, hard to be described. 
 
 Her sudden bosom seized : shame void of guilt. 
 
 The charming blush of innocence, esteem. 
 
 And admiration of her lover's flame, 
 
 By modesty exalted : e'en a sense 
 
 Of self-approving beauty stole across 
 
 Her busy thought. At length a tender calm 
 
 Hushed by degrees the tumult of her soul ; 
 
 And on the spreading beech, that o'er the stream 
 
 Incumbent bung, she with the sylvan pen 
 
 Of rural lovers this confession carved; 
 
 Which soon her Damon kissed with weeping joy : 
 
 ' Dear youth ! sole judge of what these verses 
 By fortune too much favored, but by love, [mean, 
 Alas ! not favored 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 rolled into romantic shapes. 
 The dream of waking fancy. Broad below. 
 Covered 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. 
 
 CHARMS OF A CIRCLE OF CULTIVATEn AND REFINED FRIENDS. 
 
 Social friends. 
 Attuned 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 ; 
 
 ' The Venus called ' of the I 
 
 :i,' at Florence. 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 149 
 
 Now called abroad enjoy the falling day : 
 
 Now to tho vordant Portico of woods, 
 
 To Nature's vast Lyceum forth they walk ; 
 
 By that kind School where no proud master reigns, 
 
 Tho full free converse of tho friendly heart, 
 
 Improving and improved. 
 
 BAMBLI or L0VKK3 iT ICVK. — iMASDA. 
 
 Now from tho world, 
 Sacred to sweet retirement, lovors steal, 
 And pour their souls in transport, which the Siro 
 Of love approving hears, and calls it good. 
 Which way, Amanda, shall wo bend our course ? 
 The choice perplexes. Wherefore should we choose? 
 All is tho same with thee. Soy, 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 Shene? • 
 
 BICHMOSD mLL LANDSCAPB. — LONDON. 
 
 Here let us sweep 
 The boundless landscape ; now the raptured eye. 
 Exulting, swift to huge Augusta send. 
 Now to tho 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 unwearied stray : 
 Luxurious, there, rove through tho pendent woods 
 That nodding hang o'er Harrington's retreat : 
 And, stooping thence to Ham's embowering walks. 
 Beneath whoso shades, in spotless peace retired, 
 With her the pleading partner of his heart, 
 The worthy Queensberry yet laments his Oay, 
 And polished Cornbury woos the willing Muse, — 
 Slow let us trace the matchless vale of Thames ; 
 Fair winding up to where the muses haunt 
 In Twiok'nam's bowers, and for their Pope implore 
 The healing God ;' to royal Hampton's pile. 
 To Clermont's terraced height, and Esher's groves. 
 Where in the sweetest solitude, embraced 
 By the soft windings of the silent Mole, 
 From courts and senates Pclhum finds repose. 
 Enchanting vale ! beyond whate'er the Muse 
 Has of Aohaia or Hcsperia sung ! 
 vale of bliss ! softly-swelling hills ! 
 On which the power of Cultivation lies. 
 And joys to sec tho wonders of his toil. 
 
 OCNT OF xni! SCBSERT OP ENGLAND. - 
 
 LIBERTY, QUEEN OP THE ARTS. ■ 
 
 AXD FERTILE SOIL. — AGRKXLTURAL WEALTH. 
 
 Heavens ! what a goodly prospect spreads around, 
 
 1 The old name of Richmond ; signifying in Saxon, thin- 
 ng or xptendor. 
 liUighgate and Hampstead. ' Then in his last sickness. 
 
 Of hills, and dales> and woods, and lawns, and spires. 
 And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all 
 Tho stretching landscape into smoko decays I 
 Happy Britannia ! where the Qucoa of Arts, 
 Inspiring vigor, Liberty abroad 
 Walks unconfincd, e'en to thy farthest cotd. 
 And scatters plenty with unsparing hand. 
 
 Rich is thy soil, and merciful thy clime ; 
 Thy streams unfailing in tho Summer's drought ; 
 Unmatched thy guardian-oaks ; thy valleys 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 unquellcd 
 Against the mower's scythe. ,0n every hand 
 Thy villas shine. Thy country teems with wealth ; 
 And property assures it to tho swain, 
 Pleased and unwearied in his guarded toil. 
 
 Full are thy cities with the sons of Art : 
 And trade and joy, in every busy street. 
 Mingling are heard : e'en Drudgery himself, 
 As at the car ho sweats, or dusty hews 
 The palace-stone, looks gay. Thy crowded ports, 
 Where rising masts an endless prospect yield. 
 With labor burn, and echo to the shouts 
 Of hurried sailor, as ho hearty waves 
 His last adieu, and, loosening every sheet, 
 Resigns tho spreading vessel to tho wind 
 
 ECLOOY OF BRITISH TOCTH, AGE, VIBTTE, AND VALOR. 
 
 Bold, firm, and graceful, are thy generous youth. 
 By hardship sinewed, and by danger fired. 
 Scattering the nations where they go ; and first 
 Or on the listed plain, or stormy seas. 
 Mild are thy glories too, as o'er the plains 
 Of thriving peace thy thoughtful sires preside ; 
 In genius, and substantial learning, high ; 
 For every virtue, every worth, renowned ; 
 Sincere, plain-hearted, hospitable, kind ; 
 Yet like the mustering thunder when provoked. 
 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 governed well. 
 Combine ; whose hallowed jiame tho Virtues saint, 
 And his own Muses love ; the best of kings ! 
 With him thy Edwards and thy Henrys shine. 
 Names dear to Fame ; the first who deep impressed 
 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 though mistaken leal, 
 Withstood a brutal tyrant's useful rage. 
 Like Cato firm, like Aristidcs just, 
 Like rigid Cineinnatus nobly poor, — 
 
 erect, who smiled on death. 
 
150 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — THOMSON. 
 
 Frugal and wise, a WaUingham is thine ; 
 A Drake, who made thee mistress of the deep, 
 And bore thy name in thunder round the world. 
 Then flamed thy spirit high ; but who can speak 
 The numerous worthies of the Maiden Reign? 
 
 In Raleigh mark their every glory mixed ; 
 Raleigh, the scourge of Spain ! whose breast with all 
 The sage, the patriot, and the hero burned ; 
 Nor sunk his vigor, when a coward-reign 
 The warrior fettered, and at last resigned. 
 To glut the vengeance of a vanquished foe. 
 Then, active still and unrestrained, his mind 
 Explored the vast extent of ages past. 
 And with his prison-hours enriched the world ; 
 Yet found no times, in all the long research, 
 So glorious, or so base, as those he proved, — 
 In which he conquered, and in which he bled. 
 
 Nor can the Muse the gallant Sidney pass, 
 The plume of war ! with early laurels crowned, 
 The lover's myrtle, and the poet's bay. 
 A Hampden too is thine, illustrious land ! 
 Wise, strenuous, firm, of unsubmitting soul, 
 Who stemmed 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 effulged. 
 Of men on whom late time a kindling eye 
 Shall turn, and tyrants tremble while they read. 
 
 Bring every sweetest flower, and let me strew 
 The grave where Russel lies; whose tempered blood 
 With calmest cheerfulness for thee resigned. 
 Stained the sad annals of a giddy reign ; 
 Aiming at lawless power, though meanly sunk 
 In loose inglorious luxury. With him 
 His friend, the British Cassius,^ fearless bled ; 
 Of high determined spirit, roughly brave. 
 By ancient learning to the enlightened love 
 Of ancient freedom warmed. 
 
 Fair thy renown 
 In awful sages and in noble bards ; 
 Soon as the light of dawning Science .spread 
 Her orient ray, and waked the Muses' song. 
 Thine is a Bacon ; hapless in his choice, 
 Unfit to stand the civil storm of state. 
 And through the smooth barbarity of courts. 
 With firm but pliant virtue, forward still 
 To urge his course : him for the studious shade 
 Kind Nature formed, deep, comprehensive, clear. 
 Exact, and elegant ; in one rich soul 
 Plato, the Stagyrite, and Tally, joined. 
 
 1 Algernon Sidney. 
 
 The great deliverer he ! who from the gloom 
 Of cloistered 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 Ashley ^ thine, the friend of man ; 
 Who scanned 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 
 Amid 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. 
 
 ECLOGT OF SHAKSPEABE } MILTON ; SPENSER ; CHAUCER. 
 
 For lofty sense, 
 Creative fancy, and inspection keen 
 Through the deep windings of the human heart. 
 Is not wild Shakspeare 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, poured his song 
 O'er all the mazes of enchanted ground : 
 Nor thee, his ancient master, laughing sage, 
 Chaucer, whose native manners-painting verse, 
 Well moralized, shines through 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. 
 Shaped 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 informed, when dressed in love 
 She sits high-smiling in the conscious eye. 
 
 1 Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury. 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 161 
 
 PATRIOTIC J 
 
 Island of bliss ! nmid the subjcot seas, 
 TUat thunder round thy rocky coasts, sot u 
 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 thyself, but all assaults 
 Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sca-wai 
 
 Thou ! by whoso Almighty nod tho scale 
 Of empire rises, or alternate falls, 
 Send forth the saving Virtues round tho land, 
 In bright patrol : wliito Peace, and social Love ; 
 I The tender-looking Charity, intent 
 
 On gentle deeds, and shedding tears through smiles ; 
 Undaunted Truth, and Dignity of Mind ; 
 Courage composed, and keen ; sound Temperance, 
 Healthful in heart and look ; clear Chastity, 
 With blushes reddening as she moves along, 
 Disordered at the deep regard she draws ; 
 Rough Industry ; Activity untired, 
 With copious life informed, and all awake ; 
 M'hilc 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 labors glorious with some great design. 
 
 i. SCMMBB SUNSET. 
 
 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 Amphitrite, and her tending nymphs 
 (.So Grecian fable sung), he dips his orb ; 
 Now half-immersed, and now a golden curve. 
 Gives one bright glance, then total disappears. 
 
 CONTRASTKD. 
 
 Forever running an enchanted round, 
 Passes the day, deceitful, vain, and void ; 
 As fleets the vision o'er the furmful brain. 
 This moment hurrying wild the impassioned soul, 
 The next in nothing lost. 'T is so to him, 
 The dreamer of this earth, an idle blank : 
 A sight of horror to tho cruel wretch, 
 Who all day long in sordid pleasure rolled. 
 Himself a useless load, has squandered vile, 
 Upon his scoundrel train, what might have cheered 
 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, 
 Boastlcss, as now descends the silent dew ; 
 To him the long review of ordered life 
 Is inward rapture, only to bo felt 
 
 Confessed from yonder slow-extinguished 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 galo 
 Begins to wave the wood, and stir the stream, 
 Sweeping with shadowy gust the fields of corn ; 
 While the quail clamors 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 naught disdains : thoughtful to feed 
 Her lowest sons, and clothe the coming year. 
 From field to field the feathered seed she wings. 
 
 His folded flock secure, the shepherd homo 
 Hies, merry-hearted ; and by turns relievos 
 The ruddy milkmaid of her brimming pail ; 
 The beauty whom perhaps his witless heart, 
 Unknowing what the joy-mixed anguish means. 
 Sincerely loves, by that best language shown 
 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 urged 
 Against his own sad breast to lift the hand 
 Of impious violence. The lonely tower 
 Is also shunned ; whose mournful chambers hole: 
 So night-struck Fancy dreams, the yelling ghost 
 
 Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge, [dark, 
 The glow-worm lights his gems ; and, through the 
 A moving radiance twinkles. Evening yields 
 The world to Night ; not in her winter robe 
 Of massy Stygian woof, but loose arrayed 
 In mantle dun. A faint erroneous ray. 
 Glanced 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 retained 
 Th' ascending gloum, nro nil one swimming scene, 
 Uncertain if Inh. 11, r^u-Min h> Heaven 
 Thence weary vi-inri turn.-, uii. rf, leading soft 
 The silent hours .if l..v.'. «iili purest ray 
 Sweet Venus shines ; and from her genial rise, 
 When daylight sickens till it springs afresh. 
 Unrivalled reigns, the fairest lamp of Night 
 
152 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 As thus th' effulgence tremulous I drink, 
 "With cherished gaze, the lambent lightnings shoot 
 Across the sky, or horizontal dart 
 In wondrous shapes : by fearful murmuring crowds 
 Portentous deemed. 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 spa«e 
 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, the enlightened few, 
 Whose godlike minda Philosophy exalts, 
 The glorious stranger hail. Thy feel a joy 
 Divinely great ; they in their powers exult, — 
 That wondrous force of thought, which mounting, 
 This dusky spot, and measures all the sky ; [spurns 
 While, from his far excursion through the wilds 
 Of barren ether, 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 vapory train perhaps to shake 
 Reviving moisture on the numerous orbs, 
 Through which his long ellipsis winds ; perhaps 
 To lend new fuel to declining suns. 
 To light up worlds, and feed the 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 the ennobled mind, 
 Stronger than summer-noon ; and pure as that 
 Whose mild vibrations soothe the parted soul, 
 New to the dawning of celestial day. [thee, 
 
 Hence, through her nourished powers, enlarged by 
 She springs aloft, with elevated pride, 
 Above the tangling mass of low desires, 
 That bind the fluttering crowd ; and, angel-winged, 
 The heights of science and of virtue gains, 
 Where all is calm and clear ; with Nature round, 
 Or in the starry regions, or the abyss, 
 To Reason's and to Fancy's eye displayed : 
 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 souse, 
 Diffusive painted on the rapid mind. 
 
 Tutored 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 honor, and their truest joy ! 
 
 Without thee what were unenlightened man? 
 A savage roaming through the woods and wilds 
 In quest of prey ; and with th' unfashioned fur 
 Rough clad ; devoid of every finer art, 
 And elegance of life. Nor happiness 
 Domestic, mixed 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 wintry 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. 
 
 PffiLOSOPHT GUIDES SOCIETY, EXPLORES CREATION, REVEA 
 
 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 confined, the radiant tracts on high 
 Are her exalted range ; intent to gaze 
 Creation through ; and, from that full complex 
 Of never-ending wonders, to conceive 
 Of the Sole Being right, who spoke the Word, 
 And Nature moved complete. 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 : 
 To reason then, deducing truth from truth ; 
 And notion quite abstract ; where first begins 
 The world of spirits, action all, and life 
 Unfettered and unmixed. 
 
 DIVINE LOVE ASD WISDOM EVER PROGRESSIVE. 
 
 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 formed. 
 And ever rising with the rising mind. 
 
^^:istor;i(s for |uiic. 
 
 CUNNINGHAM'S "DAY.' 
 
 I.v tho barn tho tenant cock, 
 
 Close to Partlot perched on high, 
 
 Briskly crows (the shepherd's clock !), 
 Jocund that the morning's nigh. 
 
 Swiftly from the mountain's brow 
 
 Shadows, nursed by night, retire ; 
 And tho peeping sunbeam now 
 
 Paints with gold the village spire. 
 Philomel forsakes tho thorn. 
 
 Plaintive where she prates at night ; 
 And tho lark, to meet the mom, 
 
 Soars beyond the shepherd's sight. 
 From the low-rqofed cottage ridge 
 
 See the chatt'ring swallow spring ; 
 Darting through the one-arched bridge 
 
 Quick she dips her dappled wing. 
 
 Now tho pine-tree's waving top 
 Gently greets tho morning gale ! 
 
 K idlings now begin to crop 
 Daisies in the dewy vale. 
 
 From the balmy sweets, uneloyed 
 (Restless till her task be done), 
 
 Now the busy l)cu 's employed 
 
 Trirkliii^' i!ii-UL'Ii 111-' iTcviced rock, 
 
 Whnv tin- :iiii|:i<l stn^iim distils, 
 Sweet rofreshnK-nl waits the flock 
 
 When 't is sun-drove from tho hills. 
 Anxious for the promised corn 
 
 (Kro the harvest hopes are ripe), 
 Colin hears the huntsman's horn. 
 
 Boldly sounding, drown his pipe. 
 Sweet, sweet, the warbling throng. 
 
 On the white cmblossomed spray ! 
 Nature's universal song 
 
 Echoes to the rising day. 
 
 Fervid on tho glittering flood 
 
 Now the noontide radiance glows 
 Drooping o'er its infant bud. 
 
 Not a dew-drop 'e left tha rose. 
 By the brook tho shepherd dines ; 
 
 From the fierce meridian heat 
 Sheltered by the branching pines. 
 
 Pendent o'er his grassy seat. 
 
 Now the flock forsakes the glade, 
 
 Where, unchecked, the sunbeams fall j 
 
 Sure to find a pleasing shade 
 By tho ivied abbey-wall. 
 
 Echo 
 
 
 iry I 
 
 O'er the river, rock, and hill. 
 Cannot oatch a single sound 
 Save tho clack of yonder mill. 
 
 Cattle court the zephyrs bland, 
 
 Where tho streamlet wanders cool ; 
 
 Or with languid silence stand 
 Midway in the marshy pool. 
 
 But from mountain, dell, or stream. 
 Not a fluttering zephyr springs ; 
 
 Fearful lest the noontide beam 
 Scorch its soft, its silken wings. 
 
 Not a leaf has leave to stir. 
 
 Nature 's lulled, .serene, and still ! 
 
 Quiet e'en the ."hepherd's cur. 
 Sleeping on the heath-clad hill. 
 
 Languid is the landscape round, 
 Till the fresh descending shower. 
 
 Grateful to the thir.sty ground, 
 Kaises every fainting flower. 
 
 Now the hill, the hedge is green. 
 Now the warbler's throat 's in tunc, 
 
 Blithesome is the verdant scene. 
 Brightened by the beams of noon f 
 
 O'er the heath tho heifer strays 
 
 Free — (the furrowed task is done)- 
 Now the village windows blaze. 
 
 Burnished by the setting sun. 
 Now ho hides behind the hill. 
 
 Sinking from a golden sky : 
 Can the pencil's mimic skill 
 
 Copy the refulgent dye ? 
 
 Trudging as tho ploughmen go 
 (To tho smoking hamlet bound), 
 
 Giant-like their shadows grow, 
 Lengthened o'er tho level ground. 
 
 Where the rising forest spreads 
 Shelter for the lordly dome. 
 
 To their high-built airy beds 
 See the rooks returning homo ! 
 
 20 
 
154 
 
 RURAL POETRY. CUNNINGHAM — SHENSTONB — OTWA Y. 
 
 As the lark with yaried tune 
 Carols to the evening loud, 
 
 Mark the mild, resplendent moon 
 Breaking through a parted cloud ! 
 
 Now the hermit howlet peeps 
 From the barn, or twisted brake ; 
 
 And the blue mist slowly creeps, 
 Curling on the silver lake. 
 
 As the trout, in speckled pride, 
 Playful from its bosom springs. 
 
 To tlic banks a ru 
 
 ffled tide 
 
 Verges in succc 
 
 ssive 
 
 ings. 
 
 Tripping through the s 
 O'er the path-divided 
 
 Mark the rose-complex 
 With her well-poised 
 
 Iken grass, 
 dale, 
 
 oned lass, 
 milking-pail 
 
 Linnets, with unnumbered notes. 
 And the cuckoo-bird with two. 
 
 Tuning sweet their mellow throats, 
 Bid the setting sun adieu. 
 
 SHENSTONE'S "HOPE." 
 Mt banks they are furnished with bees, 
 
 Whose murmur invites one to sleep ; 
 My grottoes are shaded with trees. 
 
 And my hills are white over with sheep. 
 I seldom have met with a loss. 
 
 Such health do my fountains bestow ; 
 My fountains all bordered with moss. 
 
 Where the hare-bells and violets grow. 
 
 Not a pine in my grove is there seen. 
 
 But with tendrils of woodbine is bound : 
 Not a beech's more beautiful green. 
 
 But a sweetbrier entwines it around. 
 Not my fields in the prime of the year 
 
 More charms than my cuttle unfold ; 
 Not a brook that is limpid and clear. 
 
 But it glitters with fishes of gold. 
 
 One would think she might like to retire 
 
 To the bower I have labored to rear ; 
 Not a shrub that I heard her admire, 
 
 But I hasted and planted it there. 
 how sudden the jessamine strove 
 
 With the lilac to render it gay ! 
 Already it calls for my love. 
 
 To prune the wild branches away. 
 
 From the plains, from the woodlands and groves. 
 
 What strains of wild melody flow ! 
 How the nightingales warble their loves 
 
 From the thickets of roses that blow ! 
 And when her bright form shall appear. 
 
 Bach bird shall harmoniously join 
 
 In a concert so soft and so clear. 
 As — she may not be fond to resign. 
 
 I have found out a gift for my fair ; 
 
 I have found where the wood-pigeons breed : 
 But let me that plunder forbear, 
 
 She will say 't was a barbarous deed. 
 For he ne'er could be true, she averred. 
 
 Who could rob a poor bird of its young : 
 And I loved her the more when I heard 
 
 Such tenderness fall from her tongue. 
 
 I have heard her with sweetness unfold 
 
 How that pity was due to — a dove : 
 That it ever attended the bold ; 
 
 And she called it the sister of love. 
 But her words such a pleasure convey, 
 
 So much I her accents adore. 
 Let her speak, and whatever she say, 
 
 Methinks I should love her the more. 
 
 Can a bosom so gentle remain 
 
 UniiiM\i.!, wIm II 1m I (""Miydon sighs ? 
 Will a ,1 " , , , : I ! .i,a..f the plain, 
 
 ThfT 1. .11 ,11,1 I in ^ vuUey despise? 
 Bear rc^i' h- "I :iI' i^'' :iii'l shade ! 
 
 Soft scenes of contentment and ease ! 
 Where I could have pleasingly strayed. 
 
 If aught in her absence could please. 
 
 But where does my Phyllida stray ? 
 
 And where are her grots and her bowers ? 
 Are the groves and the valleys as gay. 
 
 And the shepherds as gentle as ours ? 
 The groves may perhaps be as fair, 
 
 And the face of the valleys as fine. 
 The swains may in manners compare. 
 
 But their love is not equal to mine. 
 
 OTWAY'S "MORNING." 
 
 WiSHEDmorning 's come ; and now upon the plains 
 And distant mountains, where they feed their flocks. 
 The happy shepherds leave their homely huts. 
 And with their pipes proclaim the new-born day. 
 The lusty swain comes, with his well-filled scrip 
 Of healthful viands, which, when hunger calls, 
 With much content and appetite he eats, — 
 To follow in the field his daily toil. 
 And dress the grateful glebe that yields him fruits. 
 The beasts that under the warm hedges slept. 
 And weathered out the cold bleak night, are up ; 
 And looking towards the neighboring pastures, raise 
 Their voice, and bid their fellow brutes good-mor- 
 The cheerful birds, too, on the tops of trees, [row. 
 Assemble all in choirs ; and with their notes 
 Salute and welcome up the rising sun. 
 
I^iroliiiu'5 "|Jritaniii;i's '|)astor;ils. 
 
 I THAT whilero near Tavy's ' straggling spring 
 Unto my silly sheep did use to sing, 
 And played to please myself, on rustic reed. 
 Nor sought for bays (the learned shepherd's meed), 
 But as a swain unknown fed on the plains, 
 And made the echo umpire of ray strains : 
 And drawn by time (althougli the weak'st of many). 
 To sing those lays as yet unsung of any — 
 What need I tune the swains of Thessaly? 
 Or, bootless, add to them of Arcady ? 
 No : fair Arcadia cannot he completer. 
 My praise may lessen, but not make thee greater. 
 My muso for lofty pitches shall not roam, 
 But homely pipen of her native home. 
 To swains who love the rural minstrelsy ; 
 Thus, dear Britannia, will I sing of thee. 
 
 High on the plains of that renowned isle, ' 
 Which all men beauty's garden-plot instile, 
 A shepherd dwelt, whom fortune had made rich 
 With all the gifts that silly men bewitch. 
 Near him a shepherdess, for beauty's store 
 Unparalleled of any age before. 
 Within those breasts her face a flame did move, 
 Which never knew before what 'twas to love, — 
 Dazzling each shepherd's sight that viewed her eyes. 
 And as the Pci-sians did idolatrize 
 Unto the sun : tliey thought that Cynthia's light 
 Might well be spared, where she appeared in night; 
 And as when many to the goal do run, 
 The prize is given never but to one : 
 So first and only Celandine was led. 
 Of destinies and heaven much favored. 
 To gain this beauty, which I hero do offer 
 To memory : his pains (who would not proffer 
 Pains for such pleasures ?) were not great nor much, 
 But that his labor's recompense was such 
 As countervailed all : for she whoso passion 
 (And passion oft is love), whoso inclination 
 Bent all her course to him-waids, let him know 
 
 1 Til.' si.-.nes i.r Ihcst- p:ist.ir;il3 lire laid in the south part 
 
 in 1025. WillLiui lirow.if Uitd, probably, iu IBOo. 
 
 - Tavy is n river, having his head in Dartmoor in Devon, 
 some few miles from Mary-Tavy, and falls southward into 
 Tamar. •> Great Britain. 
 
 Ho was the elm whereby her vino did grow : 
 Yea, told him, when his tongue began this task, 
 She know not to deny when ho would ask. 
 Finding his suit as quickly got as moved, 
 Celandine, in his thoughts not well approved 
 What none could disallow, his love grew feigned, 
 And what he once affected, now disdained. 
 But fair Maiinn (fnr so was she called) 
 Having ill Ci lairliii. Iirr li.ve in-'tallcd, 
 Affccti-il -.1 iIm- hiitli!. -- -hephcrd's boy, 
 ThatsiR- «a- lapt li. VMiid degree of joy. 
 Briefly, she could not live one hour without him, 
 And thought no joy like theirs that lived about him. 
 
 This varioblo shepherd for a while 
 Did nature's jewel, by his craft, beguile : 
 And still the pcrfecter her lovo did grow, 
 Ilis did appear more counterfeit in show. 
 Which she perceiving that his flame did slake, 
 And loved her only for his trophy's sake : 
 'For he that's stuffed with a faithless tumor, 
 Loves only for his lust and for his humor ; ' 
 And that he often in his merry fit 
 Would say, his good came ere he hoped for it : 
 His thoughts for other subjects being pressed, 
 Esteeming that as naught which he possessed : 
 ' For what is gotten but with little pain. 
 As little grief we take to lose again : ' 
 Well-minded Marine, grieving, thought it strange 
 That her ungrateful swain did seek for change. 
 Still by degrees her cares grew to the full, 
 Joys, to the wane : heart-rending grief did pull 
 Her from herself, and she abandoned all 
 To cries and tears, fruits of a funeral : 
 Running the mountains, fields, by watery springs, 
 Filling each cave with woful cchoings ; 
 Making in thousand places her complaint. 
 And uttering to the trees what her tears meant. * ♦ 
 
 ' AVoulil she be won with me to stay. 
 My waters should bring from the sea 
 The coral red, as tribute due, 
 And roundest pearls of orient hue : 
 Or in the richer veins of ground 
 Should seek for her the diamond ; 
 And whereas now unto my spring 
 They nothing else but gravel bring, 
 They should within a niino of gold 
 In piercing manner long time hold. 
 And having it to dust well wrought. 
 By them it hither should bo brought ; 
 
156 
 
 BURAL POETKY. — W. BROWNE. 
 
 With which I 'II pave and overspread 
 My bottom^ where her foot shall tread. 
 The best of fishes in my flood 
 Shall give themselves to be her food. 
 The trout, the dace, the pike, the bream, 
 The eel, that loves the troubled stream, 
 The miller's thumb, the hiding loach, 
 The perch, the ever-nibbling roach, 
 The shoates with whom is Tavy fraught, 
 The foolish gudgeon, quiclily caught, 
 And last the little minnow fish, 
 Whose chief delight in gravel is. * * 
 
 •ORE MiRINA, ADMINISTER AN O 
 
 GROVE DESCRIBED } TREES AND THEIR QDALITIES. 
 
 Then walked they to a grove but near at hand, 
 Where fiery Titan had but small command. 
 Because the leaves conspiring kept his beams, 
 For fear of hurting, when he is in extremes. 
 The under-flowers, which did enrich the ground 
 With sweeter scents than in Arabia found. [hale. 
 The earth doth yield, which they through pores ex- 
 Earth's best of odors, the aromatical : 
 Like to that smell, which oft our sense descries 
 Within a field which long unploughed lies. 
 Somewhat before the setting of the sun ; 
 And where the rainbow in the horizon 
 Doth pitch her tips ; or as when in the prime, 
 The earth being troubled with a drought long time, 
 The hand of heaven his spongy clouds doth strain, 
 And throws into her lap a shower of rain ; 
 She sendeth up (conceived from the sun) 
 A sweet perfume and exhalation. 
 Not all the ointments brought from Dclos' isle. 
 Nor from the confines of seven-headed Nile ; 
 Nor that brought whence Phojnicians have abodes ; 
 Nor Cyprus' wild vine-flowers ; nor that of Rhodes ; 
 Nor rose's oil from Naples, Capua ; 
 Safi"ron confected in Cilicia ; 
 Nor that of quinces, nor of marjoram. 
 That ever from the isle of Coos came. 
 Nor these, nor any else, though ne'er so rare, 
 Could with this place for sweetest smells compare. 
 There stood the elm,' whose shade so mildly dim 
 Doth nourish all that groweth under him. 
 Cypress that like pyramids run topping, 
 And hurt the least of any by their dropping. 
 The alder, whose fat shadow nourisheth, 
 Each plant set near to him long flourisheth. 
 The heavy-headed plane-tree, by whose shade 
 The grass grows thickest, men are fresher made. 
 The oak, that best endures the thunder shocks ; 
 The everlasting ebony, cedar, box ; 
 The olive that in wainscot never cleaves ; 
 The amorous vine which in the elm still weaves. 
 The lotus, juniper, where worms ne'er enter : 
 The pine, with whom men through the ocean venture ; 
 The warlike yew, by which (more than the lance) 
 The strong-armed English spirits conquered France. 
 
 I See Spenser's Faery Queene, I 
 
 , St. 8, 9. 
 
 Amongst the rest the tamarisk there stood. 
 
 For housewives' besoms only known most good. 
 
 The cold place-loving birch, and scrvis tree : 
 
 The walnut-loving vales and mulberry. 
 
 The maple, ash, that do delight in fountains. 
 
 Which have their currents by the sides of mountains. 
 
 The laurel, myrtle, ivy, date, which hold 
 
 Their leaves all winter, be it ne'er so cold. 
 
 The fir, that oftentimes doth rosin drop ; 
 
 The beech, that scales the welkin with his top. 
 
 All these, and thousand more within this grove, 
 
 By all the industry of nature strove 
 
 To frame an arbor that might keep within it 
 
 The best of beauties that the world hath in it. » * 
 
 As I have seen upon a bridal day 
 Full many maids clad in their best array. 
 In honor of the bride, come with their flaskets 
 Filled full with flowers, others in wicker-baskets 
 Bring from the marish rushes, to o'erspread 
 The ground, whereon to church the lovers tread ; 
 Whilst that the quaintest youth of all the plain 
 Ushers their way with many a piping strain : 
 So, as in joy, at this fair river's birth, 
 Triton came up a channel withfcis mirth, [turn, 
 And called the neighboring nymphs, each in her 
 To pour their pretty rivulets from their urn, 
 To wait upon this new-delivered spring.' 
 Some running through the meadows, with them bring 
 Cowslip and mint ; and 't is another's lot 
 To light upon some gardener's curious knot. 
 Whence she upon her breast (love's sweet repose) 
 Doth bring the queen of flowers, the English rose. 
 Some from the fen bring reeds, wild-thyme from 
 
 downs ; 
 Some from a grove the bay that poets crowns ; 
 Some from an aged rock the moss hath torn. 
 And leaves him naked unto winter's storm : 
 Another from her banks, in mere good will, 
 Brings nutriment for fish, the camomill. 
 Thus all bring somewhat, and do overspread 
 The way the spring unto the sea doth tread. 
 
 Thus while the flood which yet the rock up-pent, 
 And sutfered not with jocund merriment 
 To tread rounds in his spring, came rushing forth. 
 As angry that his waves, he thought, of worth 
 Should not have liberty, nor help the prime. 
 And as some ruder swain, composing rhyme. 
 Spends many a gray goose-quill unto the handle. 
 Buries within his socket many a candle. 
 Blots paper by the quire, and dries up ink. 
 As Xerxes' army did whole rivers drink. 
 Hoping thereby his name his work should raise, 
 That it should live until the last of days ; 
 Which finished, he boldly doth address 
 Him and his works to undergo the press ; 
 
SUMMER — JULY. 
 
 157 
 
 When, lo, fttto ! his work not seeming 6t 
 
 To walk in equipage with better wit, 
 
 Is kept from light, there giiawn by moths and worms, 
 
 At which he frets : right so this river storms. 
 
 But broken forth, as Tavy creeps upon 
 
 The western vales of fertile .Albion, 
 
 Hero dashes roughly on an aged rock. 
 
 That his intended passage doth up-lock ; 
 
 There intricately 'mongst the woods doth wander. 
 
 Losing himself in many a wry meander ; 
 
 Here amorously bent, clips some fair mead ; 
 
 And, then dispersed in rills, doth measure tread 
 
 Upon her bosom 'mongst her flowery ranks ; 
 
 There in another place bears down the banks 
 
 Of some day-laboring wretch ; here meets a rill, 
 
 And with their forces joined cut out a mill 
 
 Into an island, then in jocund guise 
 
 Surveys his conquest, lauds his enterprise ; 
 
 Here digs a oave at some high mountain's foot ; 
 
 There undermines an oak, tears up his root ; 
 
 Thence rushing to some country farm at hand. 
 
 Breaks o'er the yeoman's mounds, sweeps from bis 
 
 His harvest hope of wheat, of rye, or peas, [land 
 
 And makes that channel which was shepherd's lease. 
 
 THg SLEEP Of INNOCENCE ; KUBSE ; BADE ; THE DEAD OIRL. 
 
 But as when some kind nurse doth longtime keep 
 Her pretty babe at suck, vihom fallen asleep 
 She lays down in his cradle, stints his cry 
 With many a sweet and pleasing lullaby ; 
 Whilst the sweet child, not troubled with the shock. 
 As sweetly slumbers as his nurse doth rock. 
 So laid the maid, the amazed swain sat weeping. 
 And death in her was dispossessed by sleeping. 
 The roaring voice of winds, the billows' raves, 
 Nor all the muttering of the sullen waves. 
 Could once disquiet, or her slumber stir ; 
 But lulled her more asleep than wakened her. 
 Such are their states whose souls from foul offence 
 Enthroned sit in spotless 
 
 SlOnr, THE Xir.IITINOALE, AND THE LOVER. 
 
 Now had the glorious sun ta'en up his inn, 
 And all the lamps of heaven enlightened been. 
 Within the gloomy shades of some thick spring, 
 Sad Philomela 'gan on the hawthorn sing — 
 Whilst every beast at rest was lowly laid — 
 The outrage done upon a silly maid. 
 All things were hushed, each birtl slept on his bough; 
 And night gave rest to him day-tired at plough ; 
 Each beast, each bird, and each day-toiling wight, 
 Roceivcd the comfort of the silent night ; 
 Kri'f fnnn tin' gripes of sorrow every one, 
 Kxfcpt pnrir I'liilninel and Doridon ; 
 She on a thorn ..^iii^s sweet though sighing strains; 
 He on a couch more soft, more sad complains ; 
 Whose in-pont thoughts him long time having pained. 
 He sighing wept, and weeping thus complained. * * 
 
 A MORNISO CONCERT OE BIRDS. 
 
 Two nights thus passed. The lily-handed morn 
 Saw Phcebus stealing dew from Ceres' corn. 
 
 The mounting lark (day's herald) got on wing. 
 
 Bidding each bird choose out his bough and sing. 
 
 The lofty treble sung the little wren ; 
 
 Kobin the mean, that best of all loves men ; 
 
 The nightingale the tenor, and the thrush 
 
 The counter-tenor sweetly in a bush : 
 
 And, that the music might be full in parts. 
 
 Birds from the groves flew with right willing hearts; 
 
 But, as it seemed, they thought (iw do the swains 
 
 Who tune their pipes on sacked Hibernia's plains) 
 
 There should some droning part be, therefore willed 
 
 Some bird to fly into a neighboring field, 
 
 In embassy unto the king of bees. 
 
 To aid his partners on the flowers and trees : 
 
 Who condescending gladly flew along 
 
 To bear the bass to his wcU-tuned song. 
 
 The crow was willing they should be beholden 
 
 For his deep voice ; but, being hoarse with scolding, 
 
 He thus lends aid : upon an oak doth climb. 
 
 And, nodding with his heiui, so keepcth time. 
 
 0, true delight ! enharboring the breasts 
 Of those sweet creatures with the plumy crests. 
 Had Nature unto man such simpl'csso given. 
 He would, like birds, be far more near to heaven. * 
 
 B0I.IDAV i DANCE J NAMES. 
 
 Come, drive your sheep to their appointed feeding, 
 And make you one at this, our merry meeting. 
 Full many a shepherd with his lovely lass 
 Sit telling talcs upon the clover grass ; 
 There is the merry shepherd of the hole ; 
 Thenot, Piers. Nilkin, Duddy, Hobbinoll, 
 Alexis, Silvan, Teddy of the glen, 
 Rowly, and Perigot, hero by the fen. 
 With many more, I cannot reckon all 
 That meet to solemnize this festival. 
 
 I grieve not at their mirth, said Doridon ; 
 Yet had there been of feasts not any one. 
 Appointed or commanded, you will say, 
 ' Where there's content 't is over holiday.' 
 
 Leave further talk, quoth Remond, Jet 's be gone, 
 I'll help you with your sheep, the time draws on. 
 Fida will call the hind, and come with us. 
 
 Thus went they on, and Remond did discuss 
 Their cause of meeting, till they won with pacing 
 The circuit chosen for the maiden's tracing. 
 
 SCENE OF THE DANCE 1 
 
 It was a rundle seated on a plain. 
 That stood as sentinel unto the main, 
 Environed round with trees and many an arbor. 
 Wherein melodious birds did nightly harbor ; 
 And on a bough within the quickening spring, 
 AVould bo a-teaching of their young to sing ; 
 Whose pleasing notes the tired swain have made 
 To steal a nap at noontide in the shade. 
 Nature herself did there in triumph ride. 
 And made that place the ground of all her pride. 
 Whose various flowers deceived the rasher eye. 
 In taking them for curious tapestry. 
 A silver spring forth of a rook did fall. 
 That in a drought did servo to water all. 
 
RURAL POETRY. — W. BROWNE. 
 
 Upon the edges of a grassy bank, 
 
 A tuft of trees grew circling in a rank, 
 
 As if they seemed their sports to gaze upon, 
 
 Or stood as guard against the wind and sun : 
 
 So fair, so fresh, so green, so sweet a ground. 
 
 The piercing eyes of heaven yet never found. 
 
 Here Doridon already met doth see, 
 
 (0, who would not at such a meeting be ?) 
 
 Where he might doubt, who gave to other grace, 
 
 Whether the place the maids, or maids the place. 
 
 Here 'gan the reed and merry bagpipe play. 
 
 Shrill as a thrush upon a morn of May 
 
 (A rural music for a heavenly train). 
 
 And every shepherdess danced with her swain. 
 
 As when some gale of wind doth nimbly take 
 A fair, white lock of wool, and with it make 
 Some pretty driving ; here it sweeps the plain, 
 There stays, here hops, there mounts, and turns 
 Yet all so quick, that none so soon can say [again ; 
 That now it stops, or leaps, or turns away : 
 So was their dancing, none looked thereupon. 
 But thought their several motions to be one. 
 
 A crooked measure was their first election. 
 Because all crooked tends to best perfection. 
 And as I ween this often bowing measure 
 Was chiefly framed for the women's pleasure, 
 Though, like the rib, they crooked are and bending, 
 Yet to the best of forms they aim their ending : 
 Next in an (I) their measure made a rest, 
 Showing when love is plainest it is best. 
 Then in a (Y) which thus doth love commend, 
 Making of two at first, one in the end. 
 And lastly closing in a round do enter, 
 Placing the lusty shepherds in the centre : 
 About the swains they danciug seemed to roll, 
 As other planets round the heavenly pole. 
 Who, by their sweet aspect or chiding frown, 
 Could raise a shepherd up or cast him down. 
 
 Thus were they circled till a swain came near. 
 And sent this song unto each shepherd's ear : 
 The note and voice so sweet, that for such mirth 
 The gods would leave the heavens and dwell on earth : 
 Happy are you so enclosed, 
 May the maids be still disposed, 
 In their gestures and their dances, 
 
 ■- yoi 
 
 ith( 
 
 That envy wish in such combining, 
 
 Fortune's smile with happy chances. 
 Here it seems as if the graces 
 Measured out the plain in traces. 
 
 In a shepherdess disguising. 
 
 Are the spheres so nimbly turning, 
 
 Wand'ring lamps in heaven burning, 
 
 To the eye so mueh enticing? 
 
 Yes, heaven means to take these thither. 
 
 And add one joy to see both danco together. 
 
 Gentle nymphs, be not refusing, 
 Love's neglect is Time's abusing. 
 
 They and Jbeauty are but lent you ; 
 Take the one and keep the other : 
 Love keeps fresh what age doth smother, 
 
 Beauty gone you will repent you. 
 'Twill be said, when ye have proved, 
 Never swains more truly loved ; 
 
 0, then fly all nice behavior. 
 Pity fain would, as her duty, 
 Be attending still on beauty. 
 
 Let her not be out of favor. 
 Disdain is now so much rewarded, 
 That pity weeps since she is unregarded. 
 
 The measure and the song here being ended, j 
 
 Each swain his thoughts thus to his love commended : 
 The first presents his dog, with these : 
 When I my flock near you do keep, 
 And bid my dog go take a sheep. 
 He clean mistakes what I bid do. 
 And bends his pace still towards you. 
 Poor wretch, he knows more care I keep 
 To get you than a silly sheep. 
 The second, his pipe, with these : 
 
 Bid me to sing, fair maid, my song shall prove. 
 That ne'er has truer pipe sung truer love. 
 The third, a pair of gloves, thus : 
 
 These will keep your hands from burning, 
 Whilst the sun is swiftly turning ; 
 But who can any veil devise 
 To shield my heart from your fair eyes ? 
 The fourth, an anagram. — Maiden aid men : 
 Maidens should be aiding men, 
 And for love give love again ; * * * 
 The fifth, a ring, with a picture in a jewel on it ; 
 Nature hath framed a gem beyond compare, 
 The world 's the ring, but you the jewel are. 
 The sixth, a nosegay of roses, with a nettle in it : 
 Such is the poesie love composes, 
 A stinging-nettle mixed with roses. 
 The seventh, a girdle : 
 This during light I give to clip your waist ; 
 Fair, grant mine arms that place when day is past. 
 
 Whilst every one was offering at the shrine 
 Of such rare beauties might be styled divine, 
 This lamentable voice towards them flies : 
 ' Heaven, send aid, or else a maiden dies ! ' 
 Herewith some ran the way the voice them led ; 
 Some with the maidens stayed, who shook for dread; 
 What was the cause time serves not now to tell. — 
 Hark ! for my jolly wether rings his bell, 
 And almost all our flocks have left to graze ; 
 Shepherds, 'tis almost night, hie home apace ; 
 When next we meet, as we shall meet ere long, 
 I'll tell the rest in some ensuing song. * * * 
 
%\\x[\[ (Ohs for 3IU11C. 
 
 WARTON-S "IIA:\ILET." 
 
 WRITTEN I.N WUICOWOOD FOREST. 
 
 The hinds how blest, who, ne'er beguiled 
 To quit their hamlet's hawthorn wild. 
 Nor haunt the crowd, nor tempt the main, 
 For splendid care, and guilty gain ! 
 
 When morning's twilight-tinctured beam 
 Strikes their low thatch with slanting gleam. 
 They rove abroad in other blue, 
 To dip the scythe in fragrant dew, 
 The sheaf to bind, the beech to fell, 
 That, nodding, shades a craggy dell. 
 
 Wild naturi-'s ^^Vl■L■tl■<t n.ites they hear : 
 
 The^hyariiith's neglo.-ted hue ; 
 In their lone haunt-* and woodland rounds, 
 They spy the squirrel's airy bounds ; 
 And startle from her ashen spray. 
 Across the glen, the screaming jay ; 
 Each native charm their stops explore 
 Of .Solitude's sequestered store. 
 
 For them the moon, with cloudless ray. 
 Mounts to illume their homeward way : 
 Their weary spirits to relieve. 
 The meadows incense breathe at eve. 
 No riot mars the simple fare. 
 That o'er a glimmering hearth they share : 
 But when the night-bell's measured roar 
 Duly, the darkening valleys o'er. 
 Has echoed from the distant town ; 
 They wish no beds of cygnct-<lown. 
 No trophied canopies, to close 
 Their drooping eyes in quick repose. 
 
 The little sons, who spread the bloom 
 Of health around tho elay-built room, 
 Or through tho primrosed coppice stray. 
 Or gambol in the new-mown hay, 
 Or quaintly braid the cowslip-twine, 
 Or drive afield the tardy kine ; 
 Or hasten from the sultry hill, 
 To loiter at the shady rill ; 
 Or climb the tall pine's gloomy crest, 
 To rob tho raven's ancient nest. 
 
 Their humble porch with honeyed flowers 
 The curling woodbine's shade embowers ; 
 From the trim garden's thymy mound 
 Their bees in busy swarms resound : 
 
 Nor fell disease, before his time, 
 Hastos to consume life's golden prime 
 But when their temples long have wo 
 The silver croivn of tresses hoar ; 
 As studious still calm peace to keep. 
 Beneath a flowery turf they sleep. 
 
 BRYANT'S "SONG OF WOOING.' 
 
 Nympli- [■ ' ' I , ^1- near 
 
 Prc?stl,. -, i. ,. ; ..,.^..„s? 
 Ah, thi-y -li- ii .11 I. mil too oft 
 
 To the careless wooer ; 
 Maidens' hearts are always soft. 
 
 Would that men's were truer ! 
 Woo the fair one, when around 
 
 Early birds are singing ; 
 When, o'er all the fragrant ground. 
 
 Early herbs are springing : 
 When the brookside, bank, and grove, 
 
 All with blossoms laden. 
 Shine with beauty, breathe of love, — 
 
 Woo the timid maiden. 
 
 Woo her, when, with rosy blush, 
 
 Summer eve is sinking ; 
 When, on rills that softly gush. 
 
 Stars are softly winking ; 
 When, through boughs that knit the bower. 
 
 Moonlight gleams are stealing ; 
 Woo her, till the gentle hour 
 
 Wakes a gentler feeling. 
 
 "Woo her, win ri autumnal dyes 
 
 t fast 
 
 lu til.; hall-rhukcd foun 
 Let the scene, that tells hi 
 
 Youth is passing over, 
 Warn her, ero her bloom is past, 
 
 To secure her lover. 
 
 Woo her, when the north winds call 
 
 At tho lattice nightly ; 
 When, within the cheerful hall. 
 
 Blaze the fagots brightly ; 
 While the wintry tempest round 
 
 Sweeps the landscape hoary. 
 Sweeter in her car shall sound 
 
 Love's delightful story. 
 
160 
 
 RURAL POETRY. DAWES MOTHERWELL. 
 
 DAWES'S "SPIRIT OF BEAUTY." 
 
 The Spirit of Beauty unfurls her light, 
 And wheels her course in a joyous flight : 
 I know her track through the balmy air, 
 By the blossoms that cluster and whiten there ; 
 She leaves the tops of the mountains green, 
 And gems the valley with crystal sheen. 
 
 At morn, I know where she rested at night, 
 For the roses are gushing with dewy delight ; 
 Then she mounts again, and around her flings 
 A shower of light from her purple wings, 
 Till the spirit is drunk with the music on high, 
 That silently fills it with ecstasy ! 
 
 At noon, she hies to a cool retreat. 
 
 Where 'bowering elms o'er waters meet ; 
 
 She dimples the wave, where the green leaves dip, 
 
 That smiles, as it curl.", like a maiden's lip. 
 
 When her tremulous bosom would hide, in vain, 
 
 From her lover, the hope that she loves again. 
 
 At eve, she hangs o'er the western sky 
 Dark clouds for a glorious canopy ; 
 And round the skirts of each sweeping fold 
 She paints a border of crimson and gold, 
 Where the lingering sunbeams love to stay. 
 When their god in his glory has passed away. 
 She hovers around us at twilight hour, 
 When her presence is felt with the deepest power; 
 She mellows the landscape, and crowds the stream 
 With shadows that flit like a fairy dream : — 
 Still wheeling her flight through the gladsome air. 
 The spirit of Beauty is everywhere ! 
 
 MOTHERWELL'S " SUMMER MONTHS." 
 
 They come ! the merry Summer months 
 
 Of beauty, love, and flowers ; 
 They come ! the gladsome months that bring 
 
 Thick leafiness to bowers. 
 Up, up, my heart ! and walk abroad, 
 
 Fling work and care aside ; 
 Seek silent hills, or rest thyself 
 
 Where peaceful waters glide ; 
 Or underneath the shadow vast 
 
 Of patriarchal trees, 
 See through its leaves the cloudless sky 
 
 In rapt tranquillity. 
 
 The grass is soft ; its velvet touch 
 
 Is grateful to the hand ; 
 And, like the kiss of maiden love. 
 
 The breeze is sweet and bland ; 
 The daisy and the buttercup 
 
 Are nodding courteously ; 
 
 It stirs their blood with kindest love, 
 
 To bless and welcome thee. 
 , And mark how with thine own thin looks, 
 
 They now are"silvery gray, — 
 That blissful breeze is wantoning. 
 
 And whispering, ' Be gay ! ' 
 
 There is no cloud that sails along 
 
 The ocean of yon sky. 
 But hath its own winged mariners 
 
 To give it melody. 
 Thou see'st their glittering fans outspread. 
 
 All gleaming like red gold ; 
 And, hark ! with shrill pipe musical, 
 
 Their merry course they hold. 
 God bless them all, these little ones. 
 
 Who, far above this earth. 
 Can make a scoff of its mean joys, 
 
 And vent a nobler mirth. 
 
 But, soft ! mine ear upcaught a sound — 
 
 From yonder wood it came ; 
 The spirit of the dim green glade 
 
 Did breathe bis own glad name. 
 Yes, it is he ! the hermit bird. 
 
 That, apart from all his kind. 
 Slow spells his beads monotonous 
 
 To the soft western wind. 
 Cuckoo ! cuckoo ! he sings again — 
 
 His notes are void of art. 
 But simplest strains do soonest sound 
 
 The deep founts of the heart. 
 
 Good Lord ! it is a gracious boon 
 
 For thought-crazed wight like me. 
 To smell again these summer flowers. 
 
 Beneath this summer tree ! 
 To suck once more, in every breath, 
 
 Their little souls away. 
 And feed my fancy with fond dreams 
 
 Of youth's bright summer day ; 
 When rushing forth, like untamed colt, 
 
 The reckless truant boy 
 Wandered through green woods all day long, 
 
 A mighty heart of joy ! 
 
 I'm sadder now — I have had cause ; 
 
 But, ! I 'm proud to think 
 That each pure joy-fount loved of yore 
 
 I yet delight to drink ; 
 Leaf, blossom, blade, hill, valley, stream. 
 
 The calm, unclouded sky. 
 Still mingle music with my dream, 
 
 As in the djLvs gone by. 
 When Suiiiimr's Iiivoliness and light 
 
 Full ro\iiiil mo dark and cold, 
 I 'U bear indeed life's heaviest cnrse, — 
 
 A heart that hath waxed old. 
 
STason's "(LMU](is() 6arhu." 
 
 DEDICATION TO SIMPUCITr, THE ABBITRESS. 
 
 To thee, divine Simplicity ! to thee, 
 Best arbitress of what is good and fair. 
 This verse belongs. 0, as it freely flows, 
 Give it thy powers of pleasing : else in vain 
 It strives to teach the rules, from Nature drawn, 
 Of import high to those whose taste would add 
 To Nature's careless graces ; loveliest then, 
 When, o'er her form, thy easy skill has taught 
 The robe of Spring in ampler folds to flow. 
 Haste, Goddess ! to the woods, the lawns, the vales; 
 That lie in rude luxuriance, and but wait 
 Thy call to bloom with beauty. I, meanwhile, 
 Attendant on thy state serene, will mark 
 Its faery progress ; wake th' accordant string ; 
 And tell how far, beyond the transient glare 
 Of fickle fashion, or of formal art, 
 Thy flowery works with charm perennial please. 
 
 INVOCATION TO POETIC AND ARTISTIC FANCY. 
 
 Ye too, ye sister Powers ! that at my birth 
 Auspicious smiled ; and o'er my cradle dropped 
 Those magic seeds of Fancy, which produce 
 A Poet's feeling, and a Painter's eye, 
 Come to your votary's aid. For well ye know 
 How soon my infant accents lisped the rhyme, 
 How soon my hands the mimic colors spread, 
 And vainly strove to snatch a double wreath 
 From Fame's unfading laurel : fruitless aim : 
 Yet not inglorious ; nor perchance devoid 
 Of friendly use to this fair argument ; 
 If so, with lenient smiles, ye deign to cheer, 
 At this sad hour,' my desolated soul. 
 
 For deem' not ye that I resume the strain 
 To court the world's applause : my years mature 
 Have learned to slight the toy. No, 't is to soothe 
 That agony of heart, which they alone, 
 Who best have loved, who best have been beloved, 
 Can feel, or pity : sympathy severe ! 
 Which she too felt, when on her pallid lip 
 The last farewell hung trembling, and bespoke 
 A wish to linger here, and bless the arms 
 She left for heaven. She died, and heaven is hers ! 
 Be mine, the pensive solitary balm 
 That recollection yields. Yes, Angel pure ! 
 
 ' Written shortly after the death of the author's wife. 
 
 21 
 
 While Memory holds her seat, thy imago still 
 Shall reign, shall triumph there ; and when, as now. 
 Imagination forms a Nymph divine 
 To lead the fluent strain, thy modest blush. 
 Thy mild demeanor, thy unpractised smile 
 Shall grace that Nymph, and sweot Simplicity 
 Be dressed (ah, meek Maria !) in thy charms. 
 
 Begin the Song ! and ye of Albion's sons 
 Attend ; ye freeborn, yo ingenuous few, 
 Who, heirs of competence, if not of wealth, 
 Preserve that vestal purity of soul [youths. 
 
 Whence genuine taste proceeds. To you, blest 
 I sing ; whether in Academic groves 
 Studious ye rove ; or, fraught with learning's stores. 
 Visit the Latian plain, fond to transplant 
 Those arts which (Jrooce did, with her Liberty, 
 Kcsign to Rome. 
 
 LANDSCAPE GAEDEXINO CNKNOWS TO THE ROMAXS. — 
 
 Yet know, the art I sing 
 Ev'n there ye shall not learn. Rome knew it not 
 While Rome was free. Ah ! hope not then to find 
 In slavish, superstitious Rome the fair 
 Remains. Meanwhile, of old and classic aid 
 Tho' fruitless bo the search, your eyes entranced 
 Shall catch those glowing scenes, that taught a 
 To grace his canvas with Hesperian hues : [Claude 
 And scenes like these, on Memory's tablet drawn. 
 Bring back to Britain ; there give local fonn 
 To each idea ; and, if Nature lend 
 Materials fit of torrent, rock, and shade. 
 Produce new Tivolis. But learn to rein, 
 Youth • whoso skill essays the arduous task. 
 That skill within the limit she allows. 
 
 NATCKB TO BK MENDED, NOT MADE. 
 
 Great Nature scorns control : she will not bear 
 One beauty foreign to the spot or soil 
 She gives thee to adorn : 't is thine alone 
 To mend, not change her features. Does her hand 
 Stretch forth a level lawn ? Ah, hope not thou 
 To lift tho mountain there. Do mountains frown 
 Around ? Ah, wish not there the level lawn. 
 Yet she permits thy art, discreetly used, 
 To smooth tho rugged and to swell the plain. 
 But dare with caution ; else expect, bold man ! 
 The injured Genius of the place to rise 
 In self-defence, and, like some giant fiend 
 That frowns in Gothic story, swift destroy. 
 By night, tho puny labors of thy day. 
 
162 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — MASON. 
 
 NO SPOT ENTIRELT ISCiPABLE OF BEiOTT. — int. 
 
 What then must he attempt, whom niggard Fate 
 Has fixed in such an inauspicious spot 
 As bears no trace of beauty ? Must he sit 
 Dull and inactive in the desert waste, 
 If Nature there no happy feature wears 
 To wake and meet his skill ? Believe the Muse, 
 She does not know that inauspicious spot 
 Where Beauty is thus niggard of her store : 
 Believe the Muse, through this terrestrial vast 
 The seeds of grace are sown, profusely sown, 
 Ev'n where we least may hope : the desert hills 
 Will hear the call of Art ; the valleys dank 
 Obey her just behests, and smile with charms 
 Congenial to the soil, and all its own. 
 
 THE DESERT IS ONLY WHERE MAN IS NOT ; IN BBADTIFTING 
 IT, LABOR LEADS ART. — THE * NEW SETTLER.' 
 
 For tell me, where 's the desert ? there alone 
 Where man resides not ; or, if 'chance resides, 
 He is not there the man his Maker formed. 
 Industrious man, by heaven's first law ordained 
 To earn his food by labor. In the waste 
 Place thou that man with his primeval arms, 
 His ploughshare, and his spade ; nor shalt thou long 
 Impatient wait a change ; the waste shall smile 
 With yellow harvests ; what was barren heath 
 Shall soon be verdant mead. Now let thy Art 
 Exert its powers, and give, by varying lines. 
 The soil, already tamed, its finished grace. 
 
 Nor less obsequious to the hand of toil. 
 If Fancy guide that hand, will the dank vale 
 Receive improvement meet ; but Fancy here 
 Must lead, not follow Labor ; she must tell 
 In what peculiar place the soil shall rise, [wear. 
 Where sink ; prescribe what form each sluice shall 
 And how direct its course ; whether to spread 
 Broad as a lake, or, as a river pent 
 By fringed banks, weave its irriguous way 
 Through lawn and shade alternate : for if she 
 Preside not o'er the task, the narrow drains 
 Will run in tedious parallel, or out 
 Each other in sharp angles ; hence implore 
 Her swift assistance, ere the ruthless spade 
 Too deeply wound the bosom of the soil. 
 
 fancy's task to beautify a low VALE D1FFICI7LT, YET NC 
 
 Yet, in this lowly site, where all that charms 
 Within itself must charm, hard is the task 
 Imposed on Fancy. Hence with idle fear ! 
 Is she not Fancy ? and can Fancy fail 
 In sweet delusions, in concealments apt. 
 And wild creative power ? She cannot fail. 
 And yet, Tull oft, when her creative power. 
 Her apt concealments, her delusions sweet, 
 Have been profusely lavished ; when her groves 
 Have shot, with vegetative vigor strong, 
 Ev'n to their wished maturity ; when Jove 
 Has rolled the changeful seasons o'er her lawns, 
 
 And each has left a blessing as it rolled : 
 Even then, perchance, some vain fastidious eye 
 Shall rove unmindful of surrounding charms 
 And ask for prospect. Stranger ! 't is not here. 
 Go seek it on some garish turret's height ; 
 Seek it on Richmond's or on Windsoi-'s brow ; 
 There gazing on the gorgeous vale below, 
 Applaud alike, with fashioned pomp of phrase, 
 The good and bad, which, in profusion there. 
 That gorgeous vale exhibits. 
 
 vhile. 
 
 Her, 
 
 Even in the dull, unseen, unseeing dell, 
 Thy taste contemns, shall Contemplation imp 
 Her eagle plumes ; the Poet here shall hold 
 Sweet converse with his Muse ; the curious Sage, 
 Who comments on great Nature's ample tome, 
 Shall find that volume here. For here are caves. 
 Where rise those gurgling rills, that sing the song 
 Which Contemplation loves ; here shadowy glades. 
 Where through the tremulous foliage darts the ray 
 That gilds the Poet's day-dream ; here the turf 
 Teems with the vegetating race ; the air 
 Is peopled with tho insect tribes, that float 
 Upon the noontide beam, and call the Sage 
 To number and to name them. 
 
 CATION TO THE MOSE OF PAINTING. 
 
 Nor if here 
 The Painter comes, shall his enchanting art 
 Go back without a boon : for Fancy here. 
 With Nature's living colors, forms a scene 
 Which Ruisdale best might rival : crystal lakes. 
 O'er which the giant oak, himself a grove. 
 Flings his romantic branches, and beholds 
 His reverend image in th' expanse below. 
 If distant hills be wanting, yet our eye 
 Forgets the want, and with delighted gaze 
 Rests on the lovely foreground ; there applauds 
 The art, which, varying forms and blending hues. 
 Gives that harmonious force of shade and light. 
 Which makes the landscape perfect. Art like this 
 Is only art, all else abortive toil. 
 Come, then, thou Sister Muse, from whom the mind 
 Wins for her airy visions color, form. 
 And fixed locality, sweet Painting, come 
 To teach the docile pupil of my song 
 How much his practice on thy aid depends. 
 
 Of Nature's various scenes the Painter culls 
 That for his fav'rite theme, where the fair whole 
 Is broken into ample parts, and bold ; 
 Where to the eye three well-marked distances 
 Spread their peculiar coloring. Vivid green, 
 AVarm brown, and black opaque the foreground bears 
 Conspicuous ; sober olive coldly marks 
 Tho second distance ; thence the third declines 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 163 
 
 In softer blue, or, loss'niDg still, is lost 
 In faintest purple. When thy tustc is called 
 To deck a scene whore Nature's self presents 
 All these distinct gradations, then rejoice 
 As does the painter, and like him apply 
 Thy colors : plant thou on each separate part 
 Its proper foliage. 
 
 Chief, for there thy skill 
 Has its chief scope, enrich with all the hues 
 That flowers, that shrubs, that trees can yield, the 
 
 Of that fair path, from whence our sight is led 
 Gradual to view the whole. 'Where'er thou wind'st 
 That path, take heed between the scone and eye 
 To vary and to mix thy chosen greens. 
 Here for a while with cedar or with larch, [hide 
 That from the ground spread their close texture. 
 The view entire. 
 
 Then o'er some lowly tuft, 
 Where rose and woodbine bloom, permit its charms 
 To burst upon the sight ; now through a copse 
 Of beech, that rear their smooth and stately trunks, 
 Admit it partially, and half exclude, 
 And half reveal its graces : in this path. 
 How long soe'er the wanderer roves, each step 
 Shall wake fresh beauties ; each short point present 
 A different picture, new, and yet the same. 
 
 CACnoS AS TO FELLING TREES. — POrsSIN. — CLAtTDE. 
 
 Yet some there are who scorn this cautious rule, 
 And fell each tree that intercepts the scene. 
 great Poussin ! Nature's darling, Claude ! 
 What if some rash and sacrilegious hand 
 Tore from your canvas those umbrageous pines 
 That frown in front, and give each azure hill 
 The charm of contrast ! Nature suffers here 
 Like outrage, and bewails a beauty lost. 
 Which time with tardy hand shall late restore. 
 
 TREES n.L PLACED. — FESCE. — SALVATOR ROSA. 
 
 Yet here the spoiler rests not ; see him ri 
 Warm from his devastation, to improve, 
 For so he calls it, yonder champian wide. 
 There on each bolder brow in shapes acute 
 His fence he scatters ; there the Scottish fir 
 In murky file lifts his inglorious head, 
 And blots the fair horizon. So should art 
 Improve thy pencil's savage dignity, 
 Salvator ! if whore, far as eye can pierce. 
 Rock piled on rock, thy Alpine heights reti} 
 She flung her random foliage, and disturbed 
 The deep repose of the majestic scene. 
 This deed were impious. Ah, forgive 
 Thou more than painter, more than poet ! Ho 
 Alone thy equal, who was ' Fancy's child.' 
 
 POVEBTT or FORESTDSO FOBBmDES. — A 
 
 Does then the song forbid the planter's hand 
 To clothe the distant hills, and veil with woods 
 Their barren summits ? No ; it but forbids 
 All poverty of clothing. Rich the robe, 
 And ample let it flow, that Nature wears 
 On her throned eminence : where'er she takes 
 Her horizontal march, pursue her stop 
 With sweeping train of forest ; hill to hill 
 Unite with prodigality of shade. 
 There plant thy elm, thy chestnut ; nourish there 
 Those sapling oaks, which, at Britannia's call, 
 May heave their trunks mature into the main, 
 And float the bulwarks of her liberty : 
 But if the fir, give it its station meet ; 
 Place it an outguard to th' assailing north, 
 To shield the infant scions, till possessed 
 Of native strength, they learn alike to scorn 
 The blast and their protectors. Fostered thus, 
 The cradled hero gains from female care 
 His future vigor ; but, that vigor felt, 
 He springs indignant from his nurse's arms, 
 Nods his terrific helmet, shakes his spear. 
 And is that awful thing which Heaven ordained 
 The scourge of tyrants, and his country's pride. 
 
 THE PRINCIPLES OF LANDSCAPE. — BROAD CONTRASTS. — 
 CARELESS LINKS. 
 
 If yet thy art be dubious how to treat 
 Nature's neglected features, turn thy eye 
 To those, the masters of correct design, 
 Who, from her vast variety, have culled 
 The loveliest, boldest parts, and new arranged ; 
 Yet, as herself approved, herself inspired. 
 In their immortal works thou ne'er shalt find 
 Dull uniformity, contrivance quaint. 
 Or labored littleness ; but contrasts broad, 
 And careless lines, whoso undulating forms 
 Play through the varied canvas : these transplant 
 Again on Nature ; take thy plastic spade. 
 It is thy pencil ; take thy seeds, thy plants, 
 They are thy colors ; and by these repay 
 With interest every charm she lent thy art. 
 
 PERFECTION FROM UNION OP ART AND NATDRE. — RAPHAEL. 
 — COMBINE SELECTED EXCELLENCES. 
 
 Nor, while I thus to Imitjition's realm 
 Direct thy step, deem I direct thee wrong ; 
 Nor ask, why I forget great Nature's fount, 
 And bring thee not the bright inspiring cup 
 From her original spring. Yet, if thou ask'st. 
 Thyself shalt give the answer. Tell me why 
 Did Raphael steal, when his creative hand 
 Imaged the seraphim, ideal grace 
 And dignity supernal from that store 
 Of Attic sculpture, which the ruthless Goth 
 Spared in his headlong fury ! Tell me this : 
 And then confess that beauty best is taught 
 By those, the favored few, whom Heaven has lent 
 
164 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 The power to seize, select, and reunite 
 Her loveliest features ; and of these to form 
 One archetype complete of sovereign grace. 
 Here Nature sees her fairest forms more fair ; 
 Owns them for hers, yet owns herself excelled 
 By what herself produced. Here Art and she 
 Embrace ; connubial Juno smiles benign, 
 And from the warm embrace Perfection springs. 
 
 Rouse then each latent energy of soul, 
 To clasp ideal beauty. Proteus-like, 
 Think not the changeful nymph will long elude 
 Thy chase, or with reluctant coyness frown. 
 Inspired by her, thy happy art shall learn 
 To melt in f uent curves whate'er is straight, 
 Acute, or parallel. For, these unchanged, 
 Nature and she disdain the formal scene. 
 'Tis their demand, that every step of rule 
 Be severed from their sight : they own no charm 
 But those that fair Variety creates. 
 Who ever loves to undulate and sport 
 In many a winding train. With equal zeal 
 She, careless goddess, scorns the cube and cone, 
 As does mechanic order hold them dear : 
 Hence springs their enmity ; and he that hopes 
 To reconcile the foes, as well might aim 
 With hawk and dove to draw the Cyprian car. 
 
 HOW TO TREAT A RIGID ROW OF VENERABLE OAKS. — SID- 
 
 Such sentence passed, where shall the Dryads fly 
 That haunt yon ancient vista ? Pity, sure, 
 Will spare the long cathedral aisle of shade 
 In which they sojourn ; taste were sacrilege, 
 If, lifting there the axe, it dared invade 
 Those spreading oaks that in fraternal files 
 Have paired for centuries, and heard the strains 
 Of Sidney's, nay, perchance, of Surry's reed. 
 Yet must they fall, unless mechanic skill, 
 To save her offspring, rouse at our command ; 
 And, where we bid her move, with engine huge, 
 Each ponderous trunk, the ponderous trunk there 
 A work of difficulty and danger tried, [move. 
 
 Nor oft successful found. But if it fails, 
 Thy axe must do its office. Cruel task. 
 Yet needful. Trust me, though I bid thee strike, 
 Reluctantly I bid thee : for my soul 
 Holds dear an ancient oak, nothing more dear ; 
 It is an ancient friend. Stay then thine hand ; 
 And try by saplings tall, discreetly placed 
 Before, between, behind, in scattered groups, 
 To break the obdurate line. So may'st thou save 
 A chosen few ; and yet, alas, but few 
 Of these, the old protectors of the plain. 
 Yet shall these few give to thy opening lawn 
 That shadowy pomp, which only they can give : 
 For parted now, in patriarchal pride. 
 Each tree becomes the father of a tribe ; 
 And, o'er the stripling foliage, rising round, 
 Towers with parental dignity supreme. 
 
 THE WILD-WOOD GLADES OP BRITAIN. 
 
 And yet, my Albion ! in that fair domain. 
 Which ocean made thy dowry, when his love 
 Tempestuous tore thee from reluctant Gaul, 
 And bade thee be his queen, there still rema 
 Full many a lovely, unfrequented wild, 
 Where change like this is needless ; where m 
 Of hedge-row, avenue, or of platform square 
 Demand destruction. In thy fair domain, 
 Yes, my loved Albion ! many a glade is foun 
 The haunt of wood-gods only ; where, if Ar 
 E'er dared to tread, 'twas with unsandalled 
 Printless, as if the place were holy ground. 
 And there are scenes, where, though she v 
 Led by the worst of guides, fell Tyranny, 
 And ruthless Superstition, we now trace 
 Her footsteps with delight ; and pleased rev< 
 What once had roused our hatred. 
 
 [trod. 
 
 But to Time, 
 Not her, the praise is due : his gradual touch 
 Has mouldered into beauty many a tower, 
 Which, when it frowned with all its battlements, 
 AVas only terrible ; and many a fane 
 Monastic, which, when decked with all its spires, 
 Served but to feed some pampered abbot's pride. 
 And awe the unlettered vulgar. Generous youth. 
 Whoe'er thou art, that listen'st to my lay. 
 And feel'st thy soul assent to what I sing, 
 Happy art thou if thou canst call thine own 
 Such scenes as these : where Nature and where 
 
 Time 
 Have worked congenial ; where a scattered host 
 Of antique oaks darken thy sidelong hills ; 
 While, rushing through their branches, rifted cliffs 
 Dart their white heads, and glitter through the 
 More happy still, if one superior rock [gloom. 
 
 Bear on its brow the shivered fragment huge 
 Of some old Norman fortress ; happier far. 
 Ah, then most happy, if thy vale below 
 Wash, with the crystal coolness of its rills. 
 Some mouldering abbey's ivy-vested wall. 
 
 how unlike the scene my fancy forms. 
 Did Folly, heretofore, with Wealth conspire 
 To plan that formal, dull, disjointed scene, 
 Which once was called a garden ! Britain still 
 Bears on her breast full many a hideous wound 
 Given by the cruel pair, when, borrowing aid 
 From geometric skill, they vainly strove 
 By line, by plummet, and unfeeling shears, • 
 To form with verdure what the builder formed 
 With stone. Egregious madness ; yet pursued 
 With pains unwearied, with expense unsummed, 
 And science doting. Hence the sidelong walls 
 Of shaven yew ; the holly's prickly arms 
 Trimmed into high arcades ; the tensile box 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 Wove, in mosaic mode, of many a curl, 
 Around the figured carpet of the lawn. 
 Hence too deformities of harder cure : 
 The terras mound uplifted ; the long lino 
 Deep delved of flat canal ; and all that toil, 
 Misled by tasteless Fashion, could achieve 
 To mar fair Nature's lineaments divine. 
 
 REFORM IS LANPSCAPB GAIU3KSIN0 DDE TO DACON, ' 
 PKOPHBT OP A TRCK TASTE. 
 
 Long was the night of error, nor dispelled 
 By him that rose at learning's earliest dawn, 
 Prophet of unborn Science. On thy realm, 
 Philosophy ! his sovereign lustre spread. 
 Yet did he deign to light with casual glance 
 Tho wilds of taste. Yes, sagcst Verulam, 
 'T was thine to banish from the royal grove 
 Each childish vanity of crisped knot 
 And sculptured foliage ; to the lawn restore 
 Its ample space, and bid it feast the sight 
 With verdure pure, unbroken, unabridged : 
 For verdure soothes the eye, as roseate sweets 
 Tho smell, or music's melting strains the ear. 
 
 So taught the sago, taught a degenerate reign 
 What in Eliza's golden day was ta^te. 
 Not but the mode of that romantic ago, 
 The age of tourneys, triumphs, and quaint 
 Olared with fantastic pageantry, which dimmed 
 Tho sober eye of truth, and dazzled even 
 The sage himself ; witness his high-arched hedge, 
 In pillared state by carpentry upborne, 
 With colored mirrors decked and prisoned birds. 
 But, when our step has paced his proud parterres. 
 And reached the heath, then Nature glads our eye 
 Sporting in all her lovely carelessness. 
 There smiles in varied tufts the velvet rose, 
 There flaunts the gadding woodbine, swells the 
 In gentle hillocks, and around its sides [ground 
 Through blossomed shades the secret pathway steals. 
 
 Thus, with a poet's power, the sage's pen 
 Portrayed that nicer negligence of scene, 
 Which Taste approves. While he, delicious swain. 
 Who tuned his oaten pipe by MuUa's stream. 
 Accordant touched the stops in Dorian mood ; 
 What time he 'gan to paint tho fairy vale, 
 Where stands the Fane of Venus. Well I ween 
 That then, if ever, Colin, thy fond hand 
 Did steep its pencil in the well-fount clear 
 Of true simplicity ; and ' called in Art 
 Only to secimd Nature, and supply 
 All that the nymph forgot, or left forlorn.' ' 
 
 Yet what availed the song? or what availed 
 Even thine, thou chief of bards, whose mighty mind. 
 With inward light irradiate, mirror-like 
 
 1 See Spenser's Faery Queene, book 4, canto 10. 
 
 Received, and to mankind with ray reflex 
 The sovereign Planter's primal work displayed 7 
 That work, ' where not nice Art in curious knots. 
 But Nature boon, poured forth on hill and dalo 
 Flowers worthy of Paradise ; while all around 
 Umbrageous grots, and caves of cool recess, 
 And murmuring waters down the slope dispersed, 
 Or held, by fringdd banks, in crystal lakes, 
 
 Hi high 
 
 Ofl'.-pnii^ iil .u. .111 1 .li.iuii., liiu banner seized. 
 And with adulterate pageantry defiled. 
 Yet vainly, Milton, did thy voice proclaim 
 These her primeval honors. Still she lay 
 Defaced, deflowered, full many a ruthless year : 
 Alike, when Charles, the abject tool of Franco, 
 Came back to smilo his subjects into slaves ; 
 Or Belgic William, with his warrior frown. 
 Coldly declared them free ; in fetters still 
 The goddess pined, by both alike oppressed. 
 
 Go to the proof! behold what Temple called 
 A perfect garden. There thou shalt not find 
 One blade of verdure, but with aching feet 
 From terras down to terras shalt descend. 
 Step following step, by tedious flight of stairs : 
 On leaden platforms now the noon-day sun 
 Shall scorch thee ; now the dank arcades of stoni 
 Shall chill thy fervor ; happy, if at length 
 Thou reach the orchard, where the sparing turf 
 Through equal lines, all centring in a point, 
 Yields thee a softer tread. And yet full oft 
 O'er Temple's studious hour did Truth preside, 
 Sprinkling her lustre o'er his classic page : 
 There hear his candor own in fashion's spite, 
 In spite of courtly dulness, hear it own 
 * There is a grace in wild variety 
 Surpassing rule and order.' Temple,' yes. 
 There is a grace ; and let eternal wreaths 
 Adorn their brows who fixed its empire here. 
 
 The muse shall hail the champions that herself 
 Led to the fair achievement. Addison, 
 Thou polished sage, or shall I call thee bard, 
 I see thee come : around thy temples play 
 The lambent flames of humor, brightening mild 
 Thy judgment into smiles ; gracious thou com'st 
 With Satire at thy side, who checks her frown. 
 But not her secret sting. With bolder rage 
 Pope next advances ; his indignant arm 
 Waves tho poetic brand o'er Timon's shades, 
 And lights them to destrucion ; tho fierce blazo 
 
166 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Sweeps thro' each kindred vista ; groves to groves ' 
 Nod their fraternal farewell, and expire. 
 And now, elate with fair-earned victory. 
 The bard retires, and on the bank of Thames 
 Erects his 6ag of triumph ; wild it waves 
 In verdant splendor, and beholds, and hails 
 The king of rivers, as he rolls along. 
 Kent is his bold associate, Kent who felt 
 The pencil's power : but, fired with higher forms 
 Of beauty than that pencil knew to paint, 
 Worked with the living hues that Nature lent, 
 And realized his landscapes. Generous he. 
 Who gave to painting, what the wayward nymph 
 Refused her votary, those elysian scenes, 
 Which would she emulate, her nicest hand 
 Must all its force of light and shade employ. 
 On thee, too, Southcote, shall the muse bestow 
 No vulgar praise : for thou to humblest things 
 Couldst give ennobling beauties ; decked by thee. 
 The suuple farm eclipsed the garden's pride,^ — 
 Even as the virgin blush of innocence. 
 The harlotry of Art. Nor, Shenstone, thou 
 Shalt pass without thy meed, thou son of peace ! 
 Who knew'st, perchance, to harmonize thy shades 
 Still softer than thy song ; yet was that song 
 Nor rude, nor inharmonious, when attuned 
 To pastoral plaint, or tale of slighted love. 
 Hun too, the living leader of thy powers. 
 Great Nature ! him the muse shall hail in notes 
 Which antedate the praise true genius claims 
 From just posterity : bards yet unborn 
 Shall pay to Brown that tribute, fitliest paid 
 In strains the beauty of his scenes inspire. 
 
 EXHORTATION ' 
 
 , CULTIVATION ( 
 
 Meanwhile, ye youths ! whose sympathetic souls 
 Would taste those genuine charms, which faintly 
 In my descriptive song, visit oft [smile 
 
 The finished scenes, that boast the forming hand 
 Of these creative Genii ! feel ye there 
 What Reynolds felt, when first the Vatican 
 Unbarred her gates, and to his raptured eye 
 Gave all the godlike energy that flowed 
 From Michael's pencil ; feel what Garrick felt. 
 When first he breathed the soul of Shakspeare's 
 page. 
 
 A PICTUBE OF ENGLAND IMPROVED BY TASTE. 
 
 So shall your Art, if called to grace a scene 
 Yet unadorned, with taste instinctive give 
 Each grace appropriate ; to your active eye 
 Shall dart that glance prophetic, which awakes 
 The slumbering wood-nymphs ; gladly shall they rise 
 Oread, and Dryad, from their verdurous beds, 
 And fling their foliage, and arrange their stems, 
 As you and beauty bid : the Naiad train, 
 Alike obsequious, from a thousand urns 
 Pour their crystalline tide ; while, hand in hand, 
 Vertumnus and Pomona bring their stores, 
 
 1 See Pope's Epistle on False Taste, to the Earl of Bur- 
 lington. 
 
 2 Mr. Southcote first introduced the * Ferme orne.' 
 
 Fruitage, and flowers of every blush, and scent, 
 Each varied season yields ; to you they bring 
 The fragrant tribute ; ye, with generous hand, 
 Difi'use the blessing \vide, till Albion smile 
 One ample theatre of sylvan grace. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 THE ART OF LANDSCAPE GARDENING. — NATCRE TO BE 
 
 Hail to the art that teaches Wealth and Pride 
 How to possess their wish, the world's applause, 
 Unmixt with blame ! that bids Magnificence 
 Abate its meteor glare, and learn to shine 
 Benevolently mild ; like her, the Queen 
 Of Night, who, sailing through autumnal skies. 
 Gives to the bearded product of the plain 
 Her ripening lustre, lingering as she rolls. 
 And glancing cool the salutary ray 
 Which fills the fields with plenty.' Hail that art, 
 Ye swains ! for, hark ! with lowings glad, your herds 
 Proclaim its influence, wandering o'er the lawns 
 Restored to them and Nature ; now no more 
 Shall fortune's minion rob them of their right, 
 Or round his dull domain with lofty wall 
 Oppose their jocund presence. Gothic Pomp 
 Frowns and retires, his proud behests are scorned ; 
 Now Taste inspired by Truth exalts her voice, 
 And she is heard. ' 0, let not man misdeem ; 
 Waste is not grandeur, Fashion ill supplies 
 My sacred place, and Beauty scorns to dwell 
 Where Use is exiled.' At the awful sound 
 The terrace sinks spontaneous ; on the green, 
 Broidered with crisped knots, the tensile yews 
 Wither and fall ; the fountain dares no more 
 To fling its wasted crystal through the sky, 
 But pours salubrious o'er the parched lawn 
 Rills of fertility. 0, best of arts. 
 That works this happy change ! true alchemy. 
 Beyond the Rosicrusian boast, that turns 
 Deformity to grace, expense to gain, 
 And pleased restores to earth's maternal lap 
 The long-lost fruits of Amalthea's horn. 
 
 When such the theme, the poet smiles secure 
 Of candid audience, and with touch assured 
 Resumes his reed Ascrajan ;2 eager he 
 To ply its warbling stops of various note 
 In Nature's cause, that Albion's listening youths. 
 Informed erewhile to scorn the long-drawn lines 
 Of straight formality, alike may scorn 
 Those quick, acute, perplexed, and tangled paths. 
 That, like the snake crushed by the sharpened spade. 
 Writhe in convulsive torture, and full oft. 
 Through many a dank and unsunned labyrinth, 
 
 . I An allusion to the supposed favorable effects of the 
 harvest-moon. 
 
 2 nesiod, the earliest poet of rurali '' ' ''^^- 
 
 Qreek village of Ascra ; hence ' Ascra 
 
 ' is put for ' 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 167 
 
 Mislead our step ; till giddy, spent, and foiled, 
 We reach the point where first our race began. 
 
 IBB TRCB USB OF BBAITT ; XITCBE'S CSCiL CTKVl! i 8KS 
 
 IS Tire oi-rrRROw; thi tkaji-bct i ti™ hilk-maids 
 
 FITU ; TUB CODRSB or TUB aWH ; TUB STHBAU. 
 
 These Fancy priied erroneous, what time Taste, 
 An infant yet, first joined her to destroy 
 The measured platform ; into false extremes 
 What marvel if they strayed, as yet unskilled 
 To mark the form of that peculiar curve, 
 Alike averse to crooked and to straight. 
 Where sweet Simplicity resides ; which Grace 
 And Beauty call their own ; whose lambent flow 
 Charms us at once with symmetry and ease. 
 'Tis Nature's curve, instinctively she bills 
 Ilcr tribes of being trace it. Down the slope 
 Of yon wide field, see, with its gradual sweep, 
 The ploughing steers their fallow ridges swell ; 
 The peasant, driving through each shadowy lane 
 His team, that bends beneath the incumbent weight 
 Oflaughing Ceres, marks it with his wheel ; 
 At night and morn, the milk-maid's careless step 
 Has, through yon pasture green, from stile to stile. 
 Impressed a kindred curve ; the scudding hare 
 Draws to her dew-sprent scat, o'er thymy heaths, 
 A path as gently waving ; mark them well ; 
 Compare, — pronounce, that, varying but in size. 
 Their forms are kindred all ; go then, convinced 
 That Art's unerring rule is only drawn 
 From Nature's sacred source ; a rule that guides 
 Her every toil ; or, if she shape the path. 
 Or scoop the lawn, or gradual lift the hill. 
 For not alone to that embellished walk, 
 Which leads to every beauty of the scene. 
 It yields a grace, but spreads its influence wide, 
 Prescribes each form of thicket, copse, or wood, 
 Confines the rivulet, and spreads the lake. 
 
 COSTRAST ims CCBVB WITH OTHER LISBS ; AVOID MOSOT- 
 ONT -, STCOY VARIETY AXD FREEDOM. 
 
 Yet shall this graceful line forget to please, 
 If bordered close by sidelong parallels, 
 Nor duly mixt with those opposing curves 
 That give the charm of contrast. Vainly Taste 
 Draws through the grove her path in easiest bend, 
 If, on the margin of its woody sides. 
 The measured greensward waves in kindred flow : 
 Oft let the turf recede, and oft approach. 
 With varied breadth, now sink into the shade. 
 Now to the sun its verdant bosom bare. 
 As vainly wilt thou lift the gradual hill 
 To meet thy right-hand view, if to the left 
 An equal bill ascends : in this, and all. 
 Be various, wild, and free as Nature's self. 
 
 HATDSk'S expedients to give variety. — how ear ARl 
 CAS DO TUB SAME. 
 
 For in her wildness is there oft an art. 
 Or seeming art, which, by position apt, 
 Arranges shapes unequal, so to save 
 That correspondent poise, which unpreserved 
 Would mock our gaze with airy vacancy. 
 
 Yet fair Variety with all her poweri 
 
 Assists the balance ; 'gainst the barren crag 
 
 She lifts the pastured slope ; to distant hills 
 
 Opposes neighboring shades ; and, central oft. 
 
 Relieves the flatness of the lawn, or lake. 
 
 With studded tuft, or island. So to poise 
 
 Her objects, mimic Art may oft attain : 
 
 She rules the foreground ; she can swell or sink 
 
 Itjs surface ; here her leafy screen oppose, 
 
 And there withdraw ; here part the varying greens, 
 
 And there in one promiscuous gloom combine. 
 
 As best befits tue genius of the scene. 
 
 Him, then, that sovereign Genius, monarch sole, 
 Who, from creation's primal day, derives 
 His right divine to this his rural throne. 
 Approach with meet obeisance ; at his feet 
 Let our awed art fall prostrate. They of Ind, 
 The Tartar tyrants, Tamerlane's proud race. 
 Or they in Persia throned, who shake the rod 
 Of power o'er myriads of enervate slaves. 
 Expect not humbler homage to their pride 
 Than dcies this sylvan despot. Yet to those 
 Who do him loyal service, who revere 
 His dignity, nor aim, with rebel arms. 
 At lawless usurpation, is he found 
 Patient and placable, receives well pleased 
 Their tributary treasures, nor disdains 
 To blend them with his own internal store. 
 
 Stands he in blank and desolated state. 
 Where yawning crags disjointed, sharp, uncouth, 
 Involve him with pale horror? In the clefts. 
 Thy welcome spade shall heap that fostering mould 
 Whence sapling oaks may spring ; whence cluster- 
 ing crowds 
 Of early underwood shall veil their sides. 
 And teach their rugged heads above the shade 
 To tower in shapes romantic : nor around 
 Their flinty roots shall ivy spare to hang 
 Its gadding tendrils, nor the moss-grown turf. 
 With wild thyme sprinkled, there refuse to spread 
 Its verdure. Awful still, yet not austere. 
 The Genius stands ; bold is his port, and wild. 
 But not forlorn, nor savage. 
 
 BOW TO TREAT A DBEART LEVEL ; OR A LrXVRIAST TASGLED 
 COPSE, OR BA.SK SWAMPY WILD. 
 
 On some plain 
 Of tedious length, say, are his flat limbs laid ? 
 Thy hand shall lift him from the dreary couch, 
 Pillowing his head with swelling hillocks green, 
 \Vhile, all around, a forest-curtain spreads 
 Its waving folds, and blesses his repose. 
 What, if perchance in some prolific soil. 
 Where vegetation strenuous, uncontrolled. 
 Has pushed her powers luxuriant, he now pines 
 For air and freedom ? Soon thy sturdy axe. 
 
168 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — MASON. 
 
 Amid its intertwisted foliage driven, 
 
 Shall open all his glades, and ingress give 
 
 To the bright darts of day ; his prisoned rills, 
 
 That darkling crept amid the rustling brakes, 
 
 Shall glitter as they glide, and his dank caves, 
 
 Free to salubrious zephyrs, cease to weep. 
 
 Meanwhile his shadowy pomp he still retains, 
 
 His Dryads still attend him ; they alone 
 
 Of race plebeian banished, who to crowd. 
 
 Not grace his state, their boughs obtrusive flung. 
 
 But chief consult him ere thou dar'st decide 
 The appropriate bounds of Pleasure, and of Use ; 
 For Pleasure, lawless robber, oft invades 
 Her neighbor's right, and turns to idle waste 
 Her treasures : curb her then in scanty bounds. 
 Whene'er the scene permits that just restraint. 
 The curb restrains not Beauty ; sovereign she 
 Still triumphs, still unites each subject realm, 
 And blesses both impartial. Why then fear 
 Lest, if thy fence contract the shaven lawn, 
 It does her wroug ? She points a thousand ways. 
 And each her own, to cure the needful ill. 
 Where'er it winds, and freely must it wind, 
 She bids, at every bend, thick-blossomed tufts 
 Crowd their inwoven tendrils : is there still 
 A void ? Lo, Lebanon her cedar lends ! 
 Lo, all the stately progeny of pines 
 Come, with their floating foliage richly decked. 
 To fill that void ! meanwhile across the mead 
 The wandering flocks that browse between the shades 
 Seem oft to pass their bounds ; the dubious eye 
 Decides not if they crop the mead or lawn. 
 
 Browse then your fill, fond foresters ! to you 
 Shall sturdy Labor quit his morning task 
 Well pleased ; nor longer o'er his useless plots 
 Draw through the dew the splendor of his scythe. 
 He, leaning on that scythe, with carols gay 
 Salutes his fleecy substitutes, that rush 
 In bleating chase to their delicious task, 
 And, spreading o'er the plain, with eager teeth 
 Devour it into verdure. Browse your fill, 
 Fond foresters ! the soil that you enrich 
 Shall still supply your morn and evening meal 
 With choicest delicates ; whether you choose 
 The vernal blades, that rise with seeded stem 
 Of hue purpureal ; or the clover white. 
 That in a spiked ball collects its sweets ; 
 Or trembling fescue : every favorite herb 
 Shall court your taste, ye harmless epicures ! 
 
 Meanwhile permit that with unheeded step 
 I pass beside you, nor let idle fear 
 Spoil your repast, for know the lively scene. 
 That you still more enliven, to my soul 
 
 Darts inspiration, and impels the song 
 To roll in bolder descant ; while, within, 
 A gleam of happiness primeval seems 
 To snatch me back to joys my nature claimed, 
 Ere vice defiled, ere slavery sunk the world, 
 And all was faith and freedom ; then was man 
 Creation's king, yet friend ; and all that browse. 
 Or skim, or dive, the plain, the air, the flood, 
 Paid him their liberal homage ; paid unawcd, 
 In love accepted, sympathetic love 
 That felt for all, and blest them with its smiles. 
 Then, nor the curling horn had learned to sound 
 The savage song of chase ; the barbed shaft 
 Had then no poisoned point ; nor thou, fell tube ! 
 Whose iron entrails hide the sulphurous blast, 
 Satanic engine, knew'st the ruthless power 
 Of thundering death around thee. Then alike 
 Were ye innocuous through your every tribe. 
 Or brute, or reptile ; nor by rage or guile 
 Had given to injured man his only plea 
 (And that the tyrant's plea) to work your harm. 
 Instinct, alas, like wayward Reason, now 
 Veers from its pole. There was a golden time 
 When each created being kept its sphere 
 Appointed, nor infringed its neighbor's right. 
 
 The flocks, to whom the grassy lawn was given. 
 Fed on its blades contented ; now they crush 
 Each scion's tender shoots, and, at its birth. 
 Destroy, what, saved from their remorseless tooth, 
 Had been the tree of Jove. E'en while I sing, 
 Yon wanton lamb has crept the woodbine's pride. 
 That bent beneath a full-blown load of sweets. 
 And filled the air with perfume ; see it falls ; 
 The busy bees, with many a murmur sad. 
 Hang o'er their honeyed loss. Why is it thus? 
 Ah, why must Art defend the friendly shades 
 She reared to shield you from the noontide beam ? 
 Traitors, forbear to wound them ! say, ye fools ! 
 Does your rich herbage fail ? do acrid leaves 
 Afford you daintier food ? I plead in vain ; 
 For now the father of the fleecy troop 
 Begins his devastation, and his ewes 
 Crowd to the spoil, with imitative zeal. 
 
 Since then, constrained, we must expel the flock 
 From where our saplings rise, our flowerets bloom, 
 The song shall teach, in clear preceptive notes. 
 How best to frame the fence, and best to hide 
 All its foreseen defects ; defective still, 
 Though hid with happiest art. Ingrateful sure, 
 When such the theme, becomes the poet's task : 
 Yet must he try, by modulation meet 
 Of varied cadence, and selected phrase. 
 Exact yet free, without inflation bold, 
 To dignify that theme, — must try to form 
 Such magic sympathy of sense with sound 
 As pictures all it sings ; while Grace awakes 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 At each blest touch, and, on the loftiest things, 
 Scatters her rainbow hues. — 
 
 Is that, which, sinking from 
 
 The first and best 
 oye^ divides, 
 
 Yet! 
 
 } divide the i 
 
 And parts it from the pasture ; for if there 
 Sheep feed, or dappled deer, their wandering teeth 
 Will, smoothly as the scythe, the herbage shave. 
 And leave a kindred verdure. This to keep 
 Heed that thy laborer scoop the trench with care ; 
 For some there are who give their spade repose. 
 When broail enough the perpendicular sides 
 Divide, and deep descend : to form pcrehance 
 Some needful drain, such labor may suffice. 
 Yet not for beauty : here thy range of wall 
 Must lift its height erect, and o'er its head 
 A verdant veil of swelling turf expand ; 
 While smoothly from its base, with gradual ease, 
 The pasture meetjs its level, at that point 
 Which best deludes our eye, and best conceals 
 Thy lawn's brief limit. Down so smooth a slope 
 The fleecy foragers will gladly browse ; 
 The velvet herbage free from weeds obscene 
 Shall spread its equal carpet, and the trench 
 Be pasture to its base. Thus form tliy fence 
 Of stone, for stone alone, and piled on high. 
 Best curbs the nimble deer, that love to range 
 Unlimited ; but where tame heifers feed. 
 Or innocent sheep, an humbler mound will serve, 
 Unlined with stone, and but a green-sward trench. 
 Here midway down, upon the nearer bank 
 Plant thy thick row of thorns, and, to defend 
 Their infant shoots, beneath, on oaken stakes. 
 Extend a rail of elm, securely armed 
 With spiculated palings, in such sort 
 As, round some citadel, the engineer 
 Directs his sharp stoccade. But when the shoots 
 Condense, and interweave their prickly boughs 
 Impenetrable, then withdraw their guard. 
 They 've done their ofRce ; scorn thou to retain, 
 What frowns like military art, in scenes [stroyed, 
 Where Peace should smile perpetual. These de- 
 Make it thy vernal care, when April calls 
 New shoots to birth, to trim the hedge aslant, 
 And mould it to the roundness of the mound. 
 Itself a shelving hill ; nor need we here 
 The rule or line precise, a casual glance 
 Suffices to direct the careless shears. 
 
 TBK WIRE FESCE. — THE HILI-SIDE PATH. — DEER CIIECKED 
 
 Yet learn, that each variety of ground 
 Claims its peculiar barrier. When the foss 
 Can steal transverse before the central eye, 
 'Tis duly drawn ; but, up yon neighboring hill 
 That fronts the lawn direct, if labor delve 
 The yawning chasm, 'twill meet, not cross our vie 
 No foliage can conceal, no curve correct. 
 The deep deformity. And yet thou me,an'st 
 
 Up yonder hill to wind thy fragrant way. 
 
 And wisely dost thou mean ; for its broad eye 
 
 Catches the sudden clianus of laughing rales. 
 
 Rude rocks, and headlong streams, and antique oaks, 
 
 Lost in a wild horizon ; yet the path 
 
 That leads to all these charms expects defence : 
 
 Hero then suspend the sportsman's hempen toils. 
 
 And stretch their meshes on the light support 
 
 Of hazel planta, or draw thy lines of wire 
 
 In five-fold parallel ; no danger then 
 
 That sheep invade thy foliage. To thy herds 
 
 And pastured steeds an opener fence oppose, 
 
 Formed by a triple row of cordage strong. 
 
 Tight drawn the stakes between. The simple deer 
 
 Is curbed by mimic snares ; the slenderest twine • 
 
 (If sages err not) that the beldame spins 
 
 When by her wintry lamp she plies her wheel, 
 
 Arrests his courage ; his impetuous hoof. 
 
 Broad chest, and branching antlers, naught avail ; 
 
 In fearful gaze he stands ; the nerves that bore 
 
 His bounding pride o'er lofty mounds of stone, 
 
 A single thread defies. Such force has fear. 
 
 When visionary fancy wakes the fiend. 
 
 In brute or man, most powerful when most vain. 
 
 Still 
 
 TDBiLDOM. —ELI 
 
 must the swain. 
 
 spreads these corded 
 
 Expect their swift decay. The noontide beams 
 Relax, the nightly dews contract the twist. 
 Oft, too, the coward hare, then only bold 
 When mischief prompts, or wintry famine pines. 
 Will quit her rush-grown form, and steal, with ear 
 Up-pricked, to gnaw the toils ; and oft the ram 
 And jutting steer drive their entangling horns 
 Through the frail meshes, and, by many a chasm, 
 Proclaim their hate of thraldom. Nothing brooks 
 Confinement, save degenerate man alone. 
 Who deems a monarch's smile can gild his chains. 
 Tired'then, perchance, of nets that daily claim 
 Thy renovating labor, thou wilt form, 
 With elm and oak, a rustic balustrade 
 Of firmest juncture ; happy could thy toil 
 Make it as fair as firm ; yet vain the wish, — 
 Aim but to bide, not grace its formal line. 
 
 Let those, who weekly, from the city's smoke, 
 Crowd to each neighboring hamlet, there to hold 
 Their dusty Sabbath, tip with gold and red I 
 
 The milk-white palisades, that Gothic now. 
 And now Chinese, now neither, and yet both, 
 Checker their trim domain. Thy sylvan scene 
 Would fade, indignant at the tawdry glare. 
 
 'Tis thine alone to seek what shadowy hues 
 Tinging thy fence may lose it in the lawn ; 
 
 1 The twine string has ftenerally fealhers tied along 
 TIrgil allu.lea to it in Oeorgics, Book III., Une 368 j also 
 his arth Xaeid, line T49. 
 
170 
 
 RURAL POETRY. MASON. 
 
 And these to give thee Painting must descend 
 Ev'n to her meanest oflBce ; grind, compound, 
 Compare, and by the distanced eye decide. 
 
 HOW TO PREPARE i PilST PROPER FOR A FESCE. — OLIVE 
 
 For this she first, with snowy ceruse, joins 
 The ocherous atoms that chalybeate rills 
 Wash from their mineral channels, as they glide, 
 In flakes of earthy gold ; with these unites 
 A tinge of blue, or that deep azure gray, 
 Formed from the calcined fibres of the vine ; 
 And, if she blends, with sparing hand she blends 
 That base metallic drug then only prized, 
 When, aided by the humid touch of Time, 
 It gives a Nero's or some tyrant's cheek 
 Its precious canker. These, with fluent oil 
 Attempered, on thy lengthening rail shall spread 
 That sober olive-green which Nature wears 
 E'en on her vernal bosom : nor misdeem. 
 For that, illumined with the noontide ray, 
 She boasts a brighter garment ; therefore Art 
 A livelier verdure to thy aid should bring. 
 Know when that Art, with every varied hue. 
 Portrays the living landscape ; when her hand 
 Commands the canvas plane to glide with streams. 
 To wave with foliage, or with flowers to breathe. 
 Cool olive tints, in soft gradation laid, 
 Create the general herbage ; there alone, 
 Where darts, with vivid force, the ray supreme. 
 Unsullied verdure reigns ; and tells our eye 
 It stole its bright reflection from the sun. 
 
 THE EFFECT OF PAINT I 
 
 The paint is spread ; the barrier pales retire, 
 Snatched, as by magic, from the gazer's view. 
 So, when the sable ensign of the night. 
 Unfurled by mist-impelling Eurus, veils 
 The last red radiance of declining day, 
 Each scattered village, and each holy spire 
 That decked the distance of the sylvan scene. 
 Are sunk in sudden gloom : the plodding hind. 
 That homeward hies, kens not the cheering site 
 Of his calm cabin, which, a moment past. 
 Streamed from its roof an azure curl of smoke, 
 Beneath the sheltering coppice, and gave sign 
 Of warm domestic welcome from his toil. 
 
 THE cotter's healthy CHILDREN. — fflRE THEM A3 A I 
 
 Nor is that cot, of which fond fancy draws 
 This casual picture, alien from our theme. 
 Revisit it at morn ; its opening latch. 
 Though penury and toil within reside. 
 Shall pour thee forth a youthful progeny 
 Glowing with health and beauty (such the dower 
 Of equal Heaven): see, how the ruddy tribe 
 Throng round the threshold, and, with vacant gaze, 
 Salute thee ; call the loiterers into use. 
 And form of these thy fence, the living fence 
 That graces what it guards. Thou think'st, per- 
 chance, 
 
 That, skilled in Nature's heraldry, thy art 
 Has, in the limits of yon fragrant tuft, 
 Marehalled each rose, that to the eye of June 
 Spreads its peculiar crimson ; do not err : 
 The loveliest still is wanting ; the fresh rose 
 Of innocence, it blossoms on their cheek. 
 And, lo, to thee they bear it ! striving all. 
 In panting race, who first shall reach the lawn. 
 Proud to be called thy shepherds. 
 
 Want, alas ! 
 Has o'er their little limbs her livery hung, 
 In many a tattered fold, yet still those limbs 
 Are shapely ; their rude locks start from their brow, 
 Yet, on that open brow, its dearest throne. 
 Sits sweet Simplicity. Ah, clothe the troop 
 In such a russet garb as best befits 
 Their pastoral oflice ; let the leathern scrip 
 Swing at their side, tip thou their crook with steel. 
 And braid their hat with rushes, then to each 
 Assign his station ; at the close of eve. 
 Be it their care to pen in hurdled cote 
 The flock, and when the matin prime returns, 
 Their care to set them free ; yet watching still 
 The liberty they lend, oft shalt thou hear 
 Their whistle shrill, and oft their faithful dog 
 Shall with obedient barkings fright the flock 
 From wrong or robbery. The livelong day 
 Meantime rolls lightly o'er their happy heads ; 
 They bask on sunny hillocks, or disport 
 In rustic pastime, while the loveliest grace. 
 Which only lives in action unrestrained. 
 To every simple gesture lends a charm. 
 
 ;PR1NG. —THE FOCR SEA- 
 
 Pride of the year, purpureal Spring ! attend. 
 And in the cheek of these sweet innocents 
 Behold your beauties pictured. As the cloud 
 That weeps its moment from thy sapphire heaven. 
 They frown with causeless sorrow ; as the beam. 
 Gilding that cloud, with causeless mirth they smile. 
 Stay, pitying Time ! prolong their vernal bliss. 
 Alas ! ere we can note it in our song. 
 Comes manhood's feverish summer, chilled full soon 
 By cold autumnal care, till wintry age 
 Sinks in the frore severity of death. 
 
 Ah ! who, when such life's momentary dream. 
 Would mix in hireling senates, strenuous there 
 To crush the venal Hydra, whose fell crests 
 Rise with recruited venom from the wound ! 
 Who, for so great a conflict, would forego 
 Thy sylvan haunts, celestial Solitude ! 
 Where self-improvement, crowned with self-content. 
 Await to bless thy votary. 
 
 STORY OF PRINCE ABDOLONVMCS. 
 
 Nurtured thus 
 In tranquil groves, listening to Nature's voice. 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 171 
 
 That preached from whispering trees, g 
 A lesson seldom learnt in Reason's school, [brooks, 
 The wise Sidonian lived : ' and, though the pest 
 Of lawless tyranny around him raged j 
 Though Strato, great alone in Persia's gold. 
 Uncalled, unhallowed by the people's choice, 
 Usurped the throne of his bravo ancestors. 
 Yet was his soul all peace ; a garden's caro 
 His only thought, its charms bis only pride. 
 But now the conquering arms of Macedon 
 Had humbled Persia. Now Phtcuicia's realm 
 Receives the Son of Ammon ; at whoso frown 
 Her tributary kings or quit their thrones, 
 Or at his smile retain ; and Sidon, now 
 Freed from her tyrant, points the victor's step 
 To where her rightful sovereign, doubly dear 
 By birth and virtue, pruned his garden grove. 
 
 LEBANON AND TnE SHORES OF STRIA AT StSRISE. 
 
 'T was at that early hour, when now the sun 
 Behind majestic Lebanon's dark veil 
 Hid his ascending splendor ; yet through each 
 Her cedar-vested sides his slanting beams 
 Shot to the strand, and purpled all the main, 
 Where commerce saw her Sidon's freighted wealth, 
 With languid streamers, and with folded sails. 
 Float in a lake of gold. The wind was hushed ; 
 And, to the beach, each slowly-lifted wave, 
 Creeping with silver curl, just kissed the shore. 
 And slept in silence. At this tranquil hour 
 Did Sidon's senate, and the Grecian host, 
 Led by the conqueror of the world, approach 
 The secret glade that veiled the man of toil. 
 
 Now near the mountain's foot the chief arrived. 
 Where, round that glade, a pointed aloe screen, 
 Entwined with myrtle, met in tangled brakes. 
 That barred all entrance, save at one low gate. 
 Whose time-disjointed arch, with ivy chained. 
 Bade stoop the warrior train. A pathway brown 
 Led through the pass, meeting a fretful brook. 
 And wandering near its channel, while it leaped 
 O'er many a rocky fragment, where rude art 
 Had eased, perchance, but not prescribed its way. 
 
 Close was the vale and shady ; yet ere long 
 Its forest sides, retiring, left a lawn 
 Of ample circuit, where the widening stream 
 Now o'er its pebbled channel nimbly tripped 
 In many a lucid maze. From the flowered verge 
 Of this clear rill now strayed the devious path. 
 Amid ambrosial tufts where spicy plants. 
 Weeping their perfumed tears of myrrh, and nard. 
 Stood crowned with Sharon's rose ; or where, apart, 
 The patriarch palm his load of sugared dates 
 Showered plenteous ; where the fig, of standard 
 strength, 
 
 1 Abdolonjinus, who, from a gardener, was made a king ; 
 see his story, in Diodorus Sioulus, Plutarch, Justin, or 
 Quintus Curtius. 
 
 And rich pomegranate, wrapped in dulcet pulp 
 Their racy seeds ; or where the citron's bough 
 Bent with its load of golden fruit mature. 
 Meanwhile the lawn beneath the scattered shade 
 Spread its serene extent ; a stately file 
 Of circling cypress marked the distant bound. 
 
 Tna STREAMLET, FALL, ANO BASIS. 
 
 Now, to the loft, the path ascending pierced 
 A smaller s^'lvan theatre, yot decked 
 ^Vith more majestic foliage. Cedars here, 
 Coeval with the sky-crowned mountain's self. 
 Spread wide their giant arms : whence, from a rock 
 Craggy and black, that seemed its fountain head, 
 The stream fell headlong ; yet still higher rose. 
 Even in the eternal snows of Lebanon, 
 That hallowed spring ; thence, in the porous earth 
 Long while engulfed, its crystal weight hero forced 
 Its way to light and freedom. Down it dashed ; 
 A bed of native marble pure received 
 The new-born Naiad, and reposed her wave, 
 Till with o'erflowing pride it skimmed the lawn. 
 
 Fronting this lake there rose a solemn grot, 
 O'er which an ancient vine luxuriant flung 
 Its purple clusters, and beneath its roof 
 An unhewn altar. Ilieh Saba?an gums 
 That altar piliil. an.i thrir with torch of pine 
 The vencnibl. ,-.il- . u..n lii-i .loscricd 
 The fragrant in. .1,., kiu^ll. a. Ago had shed 
 That dust of silver u'ur bi.s sable locks, 
 Which spoke his strength mature beyond its prime. 
 Yet vigorous still, for from his healthy cheek 
 Time had not cropped a rose, or on his brow 
 One wrinkling furrow ploughed : his eagle eye 
 Had all its youthful lightning, and each limb 
 The sinewy strength that toil demands, and gives. 
 
 The warrior saw and paused : his nod withheld 
 The crowd at awful distance, where their cars. 
 In mute attention, drank the Sage's prayer. 
 ' Parent of Good,' ho cried, ' behold the gifts 
 Thy humble votary brings, and may thy smile 
 Hallow his customed offering. Let the hand 
 That deals in blood with blood thy shrines distain ; 
 Be mine this harmless tribute. If it speaks 
 A grateful heart, can hecatombs do more ? 
 Parent of Good ! they cannot. Purple Pomp 
 May call thy presence to a prouder fane 
 Than this poor cave ; but will thy presence there 
 Be more devoutly felt ? Parent of Good ! 
 It will not. Here then shall the prostrate heart. 
 That deeply feels thy presence, lift its prayer. 
 But what has ho to ask who nothing needs. 
 Save, what, unasked, is from thy heaven of heavens 
 Given in diurnal good ? Y^ct, holy Power ! 
 Do all that call Thee, Father, thus exult 
 In thy propitious presence ? Sidon sinks 
 Beneath a tyrant's scourge. Parent of Good ! 
 free my captive country.' Sudden here 
 He paused and sighed. And now, the raptured crowd 
 
172 
 
 RURAL POETRY. MASON. 
 
 Murmur applause : he heard, he turned and saw 
 The King of Macedon with eager step 
 Burst from his warrior phalanx. 
 
 PATRIOTISM. 
 
 From the youth, 
 Who hore its state, the conqueror's own right hand 
 Snatched the rich wreath, and bound it on his brow. 
 His swift attendants o'er his shoulders cast 
 The robe of empire, while the trumpet's voice 
 Proclaimed him King of Sidon. Stern he stood, 
 Or if he smiled, 'twas a contemptuous smile, 
 That held the pageant honors in disdain. 
 Then burst the people's voice, in loud acclaim, 
 And bade him be their father. At the word. 
 The honored blood, that warmed him, flushed his 
 His brow expanded ; his exalted step [cheek ; 
 Marched firmer ; graciously he bowed the head. 
 And was the sire they called him. ' Tell me, king,' 
 Young Ammon cried, while o'er his bright'ning 
 He cast the gaze of wonder, ' how a soul [form 
 
 Like thine eould bear the toils of penury.' 
 ' grant me, gods ! ' he answered, ■ so to bear 
 This load of royalty. My toil was crowned 
 With blessings lost to kings ; yet, righteous powers ! 
 If to my country ye transfer the boon, 
 I triumph in the loss. Be mine the chains 
 That fetter sovereignty ; let Sidon smile 
 With your best blessings. Liberty and Peace.' 
 
 Closed is that curious ear, by Death's cold hand. 
 That marked each error of my careless strain ' 
 With kind severity ; to whom my muse 
 Still loved to whisper, what she meant to sing 
 In louder accent ; to whose taste supreme 
 She first and last appealed, nor wished for praise. 
 Save when his smile was herald to her fame. 
 Yes, thou art gone ! yet Friendship's faltering 
 
 tongue 
 Invokes thee still ; and still, by Fancy soothed. 
 Fain would she hope her Gray attends the call. 
 Why, then, alas ! in this my favorite haunt, 
 Place I the urn, the bust, the sculptured lyre, 
 Or fix this votive tablet, fair inscribed 
 With numbers worthy thee, for they are thine? 
 Why, if thou hear'st me still, these symbols sad 
 Of fond memorial ? ' Ah ! my pensive soul ! 
 He hears me not, nor evermore shall hear 
 The theme his candor, not his taste approved. 
 
 Oft, ■ smiling as in scorn,' oft would he cry, 
 ' Why waste thy numbers on a trivial art, 
 
 1 The poet Gray died July 31st, 1771 ; this book was 
 began a few montlia after. Mason placed a medallion of his 
 friend Gray, in a rustic alcove of his garden, with an urn ; 
 and over the entrance a lyre, with Gray's motto to his 
 odes, from Pindar. Beneath were four hues from Gray a 
 Elegy, beginning, ' Here scattered oft,' etc. 
 
 That ill can mimic even the humblest charms 
 
 Of all-majestic nature ? ' At the word 
 
 His eye would glisten, and his accents glow 
 
 With all the poet's frenzy. ' Sovereign queen ! 
 
 Behold, and tremble, while thou view'st her state 
 
 Throned on the heights of Skiddaw : call thy art 
 
 To build her such a throne ; that art will feel 
 
 How vain her best pretensions. Trace her march 
 
 Amid the purple crags of Borrowdale ; 
 
 And try like those to pile thy range of rock 
 
 In rude tumultuous chaos. See ! she mounts 
 
 Her Naiad car, and down Lodore's dread cliff 
 
 Falls many a fathom, like the headlong bard 
 
 My fabling fancy plunged in Conway's flood ; 
 
 Yet not like him to sink in endless night : 
 
 For, on its boiling bosom, still she guides 
 
 Her buoyant shell, and leads the wave along ; 
 
 Or spreads it broad, a river, or a lake. 
 
 As suits her pleasure ; will thy boldest song 
 
 E'er brace the sinews of enervate art 
 
 To such dread daring ? will it ev'n direct 
 
 Her hand to emulate those softer charms 
 
 That deck the banks of Dove, or call to birth 
 
 The bare romantic crags, and copses green, 
 
 That sidelong grace her circuit, whence the rills, 
 
 Bright in their crystal purity, descend 
 
 To meet their sparkling queen ? Around each fount 
 
 The hawthorns crowd and knit their blossomed sprays 
 
 To keep their sources sacred. Here, e'en here, 
 
 Thy art, each active sinew stretched in vain. 
 
 Would perish in its pride. Far rather thou 
 
 Confess her scanty power, correct, control, 
 
 Tell her how far, nor further, she may go ; 
 
 And rein with Reason's curb fantastic Taste.' 
 
 TASTE TO BB CUBBED BT REASON. 
 
 Yes, I will hear thee, dear lamented shade. 
 And hold each dictate sacred. What remains 
 Unsung shall so each leading rule select 
 As if still guided by thy judgment sage ; 
 While, as still modelled to thy curious ear. 
 Flow my melodious numbers ; so shall praise. 
 If aught of praise the verse I weave may claim. 
 From just posterity reward my song. 
 
 Erewhile to trace the path, to form the fence. 
 To mark the destined limits of the lawn. 
 The muse, with measured step, preceptive, paced. 
 Now from the surface with impatient flight 
 She mounts, Sylvanus ! o'er thy world of shade 
 To spread her pinions. Open all thy glades. 
 Greet her from all thy echoes. Orpheus-Ukc, 
 Armed with the spells of harmony, she comes, 
 To lead thy forests forth to lovelier haunts. 
 Where Fancy waits to fix them ; from the dell 
 Where now they lurk she calls them to possess 
 Conspicuous stations ; to their varied forms 
 Allots congenial place ; selects, divides. 
 And blends anew in one Elysian scene. 
 
Yet while I thus exult, my weak tongue feels 
 Its ineffcotual powers, and seeks in vain 
 That force of ancient phrase which, speaking, paints 
 And is the thing it sings. Ah, Virgil ! why, 
 By thee neglootod, was this loveliest theme 
 liuft tc till -I ifniL- \ i 'I ^f niodern reed? 
 
 Why lie I : |ilrndid robe 
 
 Ofthyri-ii I i I -ign the charge 
 
 To Fame, i\'\ h Ml I In III, wliose immortal plume 
 Had borne its iiiaise beyond the bounds of time? 
 
 IBB Dinsrrr 
 
 KISODOM. — BEST TUBES 
 
 Countless is Vegetation's verdant brood 
 As are the stars that stud yon cope of heaven ; 
 To marshal all her tribes, in ordered file 
 Generic, or speciBe, might demand 
 His science, wondrous Swede ! whuiJe ample mind, 
 Like ancient Tadmor's philosophic kin;:, 
 Stretched from the hyssop creeping on the wall 
 To Lebanon's proudest cedars. Skill like this, 
 Which spans a third of Nature's copious realm. 
 Our art requires not, sedulous alone 
 To note those general properties of form, 
 Dimension, growth, duration, strength, and hue. 
 Then first imprest, when, at the dawn of time, 
 The fc.rm-.ir(ii|i„._-, Hf,- inspiring Word 
 PronmiiH i I' I ,1 I 1 . irij;. These prime marks 
 Bistiiiiti , '1 I \ makes her own. 
 
 That eitili ii- I ,t I ,,\ v i nr may supply 
 
 To her wished purp<..<e ; first, with needful shade, 
 To veil whate'er of wall, or fence uncouth. 
 Disgusts the eye, which tyrant Use has reared. 
 And stern Necessity forbids to change. 
 
 Lured by their hasty shoots, and branching stems, 
 Planters there are who choose the race of pine 
 For this great end, erroneous ; witless they 
 That, as their arrowy heads assault the sky. 
 They leave their shafts unfcathered : rather thou 
 Select the shrubs that, patient of the knife. 
 Will thank thee for the wound, the hardy thorn. 
 Holly, or bo.x, privet, or pyracanth. 
 They, thickening from their base, with ten-fold shade 
 Will soon replenish all thy judgment pruned. 
 
 TBE EXOLISH LACRF.I, LACR0-CEBASC3, THE BEST SCREES. 
 
 But chief, with willing aid, her glittering green 
 Shall England's laurel bring ; swift shall she spread 
 Her broad-leaved shade, and float it fair, and wide. 
 Proud to be called an inmate of the soil. 
 Let England prize this daughter of the East ' 
 Beyond that Latian plant, of kindred name. 
 That wreathed the head of Julius ; basely twined 
 Its flattering foliage on the traitor's brow 
 
 1 The common English laurel was sent, with the horac- 
 
 1 Constantinople to Holland, iu 1576, lo Clusius, 
 
 " raa called Trabison cur- 
 
 173 
 
 Who crushed his country's freedom. Sacred tree. 
 
 Ne'er be thy brighter verdure thus debased ! 
 
 Far happier thou, in this secjuestered bower. 
 
 To shroud thy poet, who, with fostering hand, 
 
 Here bade thee flourish, and with grateful strain 
 
 Now chants the praise of thy niaturcr bloom. 
 
 And happier far that poet, if, secure 
 
 His hearth and altars from the pilfering slaves 
 
 Of power, his little eve of lonely life 
 
 May here steal on, blest with the heartfelt calm 
 
 That competence and liberty inspire. 
 
 Nor are the plants which England calls her own 
 Few, or unlovely, that, with laurel joined, 
 And kindred foliage of perennial green, 
 Will form a close-knit curtain. Shrubs there are 
 Of bolder ^-rowth, that, at the call of Spring, 
 Hurst forth in blossomed fragrance : lilacs robed 
 In snow-white innocence, or purple pride ; 
 The sweet syringa yielding but in scent 
 To the rich orange ; or the woodbine wild. 
 That loves to hang, on barren boughs remote. 
 Her wreaths of flowery perfume. These beside 
 Myriads, that here the muse neglects to name. 
 Will add a vernal lustre to thy veil. 
 
 CHAKCE EFFECTS. — PROVIDE FOR SPRISO AND SUMMl 
 
 And what if chance collects the varied tribes. 
 Yet fear not thou but unexpected charms 
 Will from their union start. But if our song 
 Supply one precept here, it bids retire 
 Each leaf of deeper dye, and lift in front 
 Foliage of paler verdure, so to spread 
 A canvas, which when touched by Autumn's hand 
 Shall gleam with dusky gold, or russet rays. 
 But why prepare for her funereal hand 
 That canvas ? she but comes to dress thy shades. 
 As lovelier victims for their wintry tomb. 
 Rather to flowery Spring, to Summer bright. 
 Thy labors consecrate ; their laughing reign. 
 The youth, the manhood of the growing year, 
 Deserves that labor, and rewards its i>ain. 
 Yet, heedful ever of that ruthless time 
 AVhen Winter shakes their stems, preserve a file 
 With ever-during leaf to brave his arm, 
 And deepening spread their undiminished gloom. 
 
 TALLER TREES MCST SOT INTERCEPT AIR AND SCNSIIISE FROl 
 
 But, if the tall defect ( 
 Of forest shade high-towering, some broad roof 
 Perchance of glaring tile that guards the stores 
 Of Ceres ; or the patched disjointed choir 
 Of some old fane, whose steeple's Gothic pride 
 Or pinnacled, or spired, would bolder rise 
 ' In tufted trees high bosomed,' here allot 
 Convenient space to plant that lofty tribe 
 Behind thy underwood, lest o'er its head 
 i The forest tyrants shake their lordly arms, 
 
174 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 And shed their baleful dewa. Each plant that springs 
 Holds, like the people of some free-born state, 
 Its rights fair franchiscd ; rooted to a spot, 
 It yet has claim to air ; from liberal heaven 
 It yet has claim to sunshine, and to showers : 
 Air, showers, and sunshine, are its liberty. 
 
 ORNAMENTAL SHRUBBERT. — ^OUKU BIKU: 
 
 That liberty secured, a general shade, 
 Dense and impervious, to thy wish shall rise 
 To hide each form uncouth ; and this obtained, 
 "WTiat next we from the Dryad powers implore 
 
 
 
 ■ lawn. 
 
 Though clothed with softest verdure, though relieved 
 By many a gentle fall and easy swell. 
 Expects that harmony of light and shade, 
 Which foliage only gives. Come, then, ye plants ! 
 That, like the village troop when Maia dawns, 
 Delight to mingle social ; to the crest 
 Of yonder brow we safely may conduct 
 Your numerous train ; no eye obstructed there 
 Will blame your interposed society : 
 Dut, on the plain beluw, in single stems 
 Disparted, or in sparing groups distinct. 
 Wide must ye stand, in wild, disordered mood, 
 As if the seeds from which your scions sprang 
 Had there been scattered from the affrighted beak 
 Of some maternal bird whom the fierce hawk 
 Pursued with felon claw. Her young meanwhile 
 Callow, and cold, from their moss-woven nest 
 Peep forth ; they stretch their little eager throats 
 Broad to the wind, and plead to the lone spray 
 Their famished plaint importunately shrill. 
 
 Yet in this wild disorder Art presides, 
 Designs, corrects, and regulates the whole, 
 Herself the while unseen. No cedar broad 
 Drops his dark curtain where a distant scene 
 Demands distinction. Here the thin abele 
 Of lofty bole, and bare, the smooth-stemmed beech, 
 Or slender alder, give our eye free space 
 Beneath their boughs to catch each lessening charm, 
 E'en to the far horizon's azure bound. 
 
 Nor will that sovereign arbitress admit. 
 Where'er her nod decrees a mass of shade. 
 Plants of unequal size, discordant kind, 
 Or ruled by foliation's different laws ; 
 But for that needful purpose those prefers 
 Whose hues are friendly, whose coeval leaves 
 The earliest open, and the latest fade. 
 
 Nor will she, scorning truth and taste, devote 
 To strange and alien soils her seedling stems ; 
 Fix the dank sallow on the mountain's brow, 
 Or to the moss-grown margin of the lake 
 Bid the dry pino descend. From Nature's laws 
 She draws her own ; Nature and she are one. 
 
 Nor will she, led by fashion's lure, select. 
 
 For objects interposed, the pigmy race 
 
 Of shrubs, or scatter with unmeaning hand 
 
 Their offspring o'er the lawn, scorning to patch 
 
 With many a meagre and disjointed tuft 
 
 Its sober surface : sidelong to her path 
 
 And polished foreground she confines their growth 
 
 Where o'er their heads the liberal eye may range. 
 
 Nor will her prudence, when intent to form 
 One perfect whole, on feeble aid depend. 
 And give exotic wonders to our gaze. 
 She knows and therefore fears the faithless train ; 
 Sagely she calls on those of hardy class 
 Indigenous, who, patient of the change 
 From heat to cold which Albion hourly feels. 
 Are braced with strength to brave it. These alone 
 She plants, and prunes, nor grieves if nicer eyes 
 Pronounce them vulgar. These she calls her friends. 
 That veteran troop who will not for a blast 
 Of nipping air, like cowards, quit the field. 
 
 Far to the north of thy imperial towers, 
 Augusta ! in that wild and Alpine vale. 
 Thro' which the Swale, by mountain-torrents swelled, 
 Flings his redundant stream, there lived a youth 
 Of polished manners ; ample his domain, 
 And fair the site of his paternal dome. 
 He loved the art I sing ; a deep adept 
 In Nature's story, well he knew the names 
 Of all her verdant lineage ; yet that skill 
 Misled his taste ; scornful of every bloom 
 That spreads spontaneous, from remotest Ind 
 He brought his foliage ; careless of its cost. 
 E'en of its beauty careless ; it was rare. 
 And therefore beauteous. Now his laurel screen, 
 With rose and woodbine negligently wove, 
 Bows to the axe ; the rich magnolias claim 
 The station ; now herculean beeches felled 
 Resign their rights, and warm Virginia sends 
 Her cedars to usurp them ; the proud oak 
 Himself, even he, the sovereign of the shade. 
 Yields to the fir that drips with Gilead's balm. 
 Now, Albion, gaze at glories not thy own ! 
 Pause, rapid Swale ! and see thy margin crowned 
 With all the pride of Ganges ; vernal showers 
 Have fixed their roots ; nutritious summer suns 
 Favored their growth ; and mildest autumn smiled 
 Benignant o'er them : vigorous, fair, and tall, 
 They waft a gale of spices o'er the plain. 
 But winter comes, and with him watery Jove, 
 And with him Boreas in his frozen shroud ; 
 The savage spirit of old Swale is roused ; 
 He howls amidst his foam. At the dread sight 
 The aliens stand aghast ; they bow their heads. 
 In vain the glassy penthouse is supplied : 
 The pelting storm with icy bullets breaks 
 Its fragile barrier ; see ! they fade, they die. 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 175 
 
 now TO DISPOSS OP KTOT1C8. 
 
 Warned by his error, let the planter flight 
 Those shivering rarities ; or if, to pleoso 
 Fastidious fashion, ho must needs allot 
 Some space for foreign foliage, let liira choose 
 A sidelong glade, sheltered from cost and north, 
 And free to southern and to western gales ; 
 Thoro let him lix their station ; thither wind 
 Some devious path, that, from the chief design 
 Detached, may lead to where they safely bloom. 
 So in the web of epic song sublime 
 The bard Mrconian interweaves the charm 
 Of softer episode, yet leaves unbroko 
 The golden thread of his majestic theme. 
 
 What else to shun of formal, false, or vain, 
 or l(.iij;-liiK-il vistn.1, or plantations quaint, 
 Our foiiucr strains have taught. Instruction now 
 Withdraws ; she knows her limits ; knows that grace 
 Is caught by strong perception, not from rules ; 
 That undressed Nature claims for all her limbs 
 Some simple garb peculiar, which, howc'er 
 Distinct their size and shape, is simple still. 
 This garb to choose, with clothing dense, or thin, 
 A part to hide, another to adorn. 
 Is Taste's important task ; preceptive song 
 From error in the ohoioe can only warn. 
 
 But vain that warning voice ; vain every aid 
 Of Genius, .Judgment, Fancy, to secure 
 The planter's liusting fame : there is a power, 
 A hidden power, at once his friend and foe : 
 'T is Vegetation. Gradual to his groves 
 She gives their wished elTcct ; and, that displayed, 
 0, that her power would pause ! but, active still, 
 She swells each stem, prolongs each vagrant bough, 
 And darts with unremitting vigor bold 
 From grace to wild luxuriance. Happier far 
 Arc you, ye sons of Claude ! who, from the mine, 
 The earth, or juice of herb or flower concrete, 
 Mingle the mass whence your Arcadias spring : 
 The beauteous outline of your pictured shades 
 Still keeps the bound you gave it ; time, that pales 
 Your vivid hues, respects your pleasing forms. 
 Not so our landscapes ; though we paint like you. 
 We paint with growing colors ; every year, 
 O'erpassing that which gives the breadth of shade 
 We sought, by rude addition mars our scene. 
 
 Rouse, then, ye hinds ! ere yet yon closing boughs 
 Blot out the purple distance, swift prevent 
 The spreading evil : thin the crowded glades. 
 While yet of slender size each stem will thrive 
 Transplanted : twice repeat the annual toil ; 
 Nor let the axe its beak, the saw its tooth. 
 Refrain, whene'er some random branch has strayed 
 Beyond the bounds of beauty ; else fuU soon. 
 
 E'en ere the planter's life has past its prime, 
 Will Albion's garden frown an Indian wild. 
 
 Foreboding fears, avaunt ! be ours to urgo 
 Each present purpose by what favoring means 
 May work its end designed ; why deprecate 
 The change that waits on sublunary tilings, 
 Sad lot of their existence ? shall wo pause 
 To give the charm of wat«r to our scoue. 
 For that the congregated rains may swell 
 Its tide into a flood ? or that yon Sun, 
 Now on the Lion mounted, to his noon 
 Impels him, shaking from his fiery mane 
 A heat may parch its channel 7 0, ye caves, 
 Deepen your dripping roofs ! this feverish hour ' 
 Claims all your coolness ; in your humid colls 
 Permit me to forget the planter's toil ; 
 And, while I woo your Naiads to my aid. 
 Involve me in impenetrable gloom. 
 
 Blest 13 the man (if bliss be human boast) 
 Whose fertile soil is washed with frequent streams. 
 And springs salubrious. He disdains to toss 
 In rainbow dews their crystal to the sun ; 
 Or sink in subtirniTU'ivii cisterns deep ; 
 That so, tbr.iHL-ii I- .him i|ili..n- upward drawn. 
 Those strciiiH : i i, : n.. He his ear 
 Shuts to the lir tin' liard.* 
 
 Who tricked a i' Lla-. LhcuiL with classic flowers. 
 And sung of fountains burstiug from the shells 
 Of brazen Tritons, spouting through the jaws 
 ' Of Gorgons, Hydras, and Chimseras dire.' 
 
 Peace to his manes ! let the nymphs of Seine 
 Cherish his fame. Thy poet, Albion ! scorns, 
 Even for a cold unconscious clement. 
 To forge the fetters he would scorn to wear. 
 His song shall reprobate each effort vile. 
 That aims to force the Genius of the stream 
 Beyond his native height ; or dares to press 
 Above that destined line the unwilling wave. 
 
 Is there within the circle of thy view 
 Some sedgy flat, where the late-ripened sheaves 
 Stand brown with unblest mildew '? 't is the bed 
 On which an ample lake in crystal peace 
 Might sleep majestic. Pause we yet ; iierchance 
 Some midway channel, where the soil declines. 
 Might there be delved, by levels duly led 
 In bold and broken curves : for water loves 
 A wilder outline than the woodland path. 
 And winds with shorter bend. To drain the rest 
 The shelving spade may toil, till wintry showers 
 Find their free course down each declining bank. 
 Quit then the thought ; a river's winding form, 
 
 1 Written during the remarkably hot weather of June, 
 
 - Ren* Rapin, a French Jesuit, who wrote a Latin poem 
 on Gardens, in four books, aa a supplement to Virgil's 
 
With many a sinuous bay and island green, 
 
 At less expense of labor and of land, 
 
 Will give thee equal beauty : seldom art 
 
 Can emulate that broad and bold extent 
 
 Which charms in native lakes -, and, fa.hng there, 
 
 Her works betray their character and name, 
 
 And dwindle into pools. 
 
 Not that our strain, 
 Fastidious, shall disdain a small expanse 
 Of stagnant fluid, in some scene confined. 
 Circled with varied shade, where, through the leaves, 
 The half-admitted sunbeam trembling plays 
 On its clear bosom ; where aquatic fowl 
 Of varied tribe and varied feather sail ; 
 And where the finny race their glittering scales 
 Unwillingly reveal : there, there alone 
 Where bursts the general prospect on our eye. 
 We scorn these watery patches : Thames himself. 
 Seen in disjointed spots, where sallows hide 
 His first bold presence, seems a string of pools : 
 A chart and compass must explain his course. 
 
 BOW TO FORM i MVER. 
 
 He, who would seize the river's sovereign charm. 
 Must wind the moving mirror through his lawn 
 Ev'n to remotest distance ; deep must delve 
 The gravelly channel that prescribes its course ; 
 Closely conceal each terminating bound 
 By hill or shade opposed ; and to its bank 
 Lifting the level of the copious stream, ^ 
 Must there retain it. But, if thy faint springs 
 Refuse this large supply, steel thy firm soul 
 With stoic pride ; imperfect charms despise : 
 Beauty, like Virtue, knows no grovelling mean. 
 
 TANKS AND CANALS OS TERRACES SATIRIZED. 
 
 Who but must pity that penurious taste. 
 Which down the quick-descending vale prolongs. 
 Slope below slope, a stiff and unlinked chain 
 Of flat canals ; then leads the stranger s eye 
 To some predestined station, there to catch 
 Their seeming union, and the fraud approve? 
 Who but must change that pity into scorn. 
 If down each verdant slope a narrow flight 
 Of central steps decline, where the spare stream 
 Steals trickling ; or, withheld by cunning skill. 
 Hoards its scant treasures, till the masters nod 
 Decree its fall : then down the formal stairs 
 It leaps with short-lived fury ; wasting there, 
 Poor prodigal ! what many a summer's ral^ 
 And many a winter's snow shall late restore. 
 
 now TO INSCBE A PERMANENT CASCADE. 
 
 Learn that, whene'er, in some sublimer scene, 
 Imperial Nature of her headlong floods 
 Permits our imitation, she herself 
 Prepares their reservoir ; concealed perchance 
 In neighboring hills, where fir.^t it well behoves 
 Our toil to search, and studiously augment 
 The watery store with springs and sluices drawn 
 
 From pools, that on the heath drink up the rain. 
 Be these collected, like the miser's gold. 
 In one increasing fund, nor dare to pour, 
 Down thy impending mound, the bright cascade, 
 Till richly sure of its redundant fall. 
 
 EMBANKMENT FOR A CASCADE. —BRINDLET'S FIRST CANAL. 
 _ IRIVELL. — THE FALL. — TEES. 
 
 That mound to raise alike demands thy toil. 
 Ere Art adorn its surface. Here adopt 
 That facile mode which his inventive powers • 
 First planned who led to rich Mancunium's mart 
 His long-drawn line of navigated stream. 
 Stupendous task ! in vain stood towering hills 
 Opposed ; in vain did ample Irwell pour 
 Her tide transverse : he pierced the towering hill. 
 He bridged the ample tide, and high in air. 
 And deep through earth, his freighted barge he bore. 
 This mode shall temper ev'n the lightest soil 
 Firm to thy put>pose. Then let Taste select 
 The unhewn fragments, that may give its front 
 A rocky rudeness ; pointed some, that there 
 The frothy spouts may break; some slanting smooth 
 That there in silver sheet the wave may slide. 
 Here too infix some moss-grown trunks of oak 
 Romantic, turned by gelid lakes to stone, 
 Yet so disposed as if they owed their change 
 To what they now control. Then open wide 
 Thy flood-gates ; then let down thy torrent : then 
 Rejoice ; as if the thundering Tees" himself 
 Reigned there amid his cataracts sublime. 
 
 And thou hast cause for triumph ! Kings them- 
 With all a nation's wealth, an army's toil, [selves. 
 If Nature frown averse, shall ne'er achieve 
 Such wonders : Nature's was the glorious gift ; 
 Thy art her menial handmaid. Listening youths ! 
 To whose ingenuous hearts I still address 
 The friendly strain, from such severe attempt 
 Let Prudence warn you. Turn to this clear rill. 
 Which, while I bid your bold ambition cease. 
 Runs murmuring at my side : O'er many a rood 
 Your skill may lead the wanderer ; many a mound 
 Of pebbles raise, to fret her in her course 
 Impatient : louder then will be her song : 
 For she will 'plain, and gurgle, as she goes, 
 As does the widowed ring-dove. Take, vain Pomp . 
 Thy lakes, thy long canals, thy trim cascades, 
 Beyond them all true taste will dearly prize 
 This little dimpling treasure. 
 
 THE NAIAD LIXEIA. — CAVES. — STALACTITES. 
 
 Mark the cleft. 
 Through which she bursts to day. Behind that rock 
 A Naiad dwells : Lineia--" is her name ; 
 
 , .,., „ .,,.„ :.. ., pH-U.v wlm ma.l- the BridRewater 
 
 ' T'.' .i!..i- " ■- ' " :,,-i HiKndand. He 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 177 
 
 And sho has siators in contiguous colls, 
 Who never saw the sun. Fond Fancy's oyo, 
 That inly gives locality and form 
 To what sho prises best, full oft pervades 
 Those hidden caverns, whore pale chrysolites 
 And glittering spars dart a mysterious gleam 
 Of inborn lustre, from tho garish day 
 Unborrowed. There, by tho wild Goddess led. 
 
 ing o'er their urns, 
 
 I ln-ir moist cerulean looks 
 Yet, let mo own, 
 
 like these, 
 ; prone to pay 
 
 Oft have I soon the 
 ChantiiiK iili. ii.-l- 
 
 While MU 
 
 With.sh. li 
 
 To these, : . i 
 
 From very childhui 
 Harmless idolatry. 
 
 My infant eyes 
 First opened on that bleak and boisterous shore. 
 Where Humber weds the nymphs of Trent and Ouse 
 To his and Ocean's Tritons : thence full soon 
 My youth retired, and left the busy strand 
 To Commerce and to Care. In Margaret's grove,' 
 Beneath whoso time-worn shade old Camus sleeps. 
 Was ne.\t my tranquil station : Science tbero 
 Sat musing j and for those that loved the lore 
 Pointed, with mystic wand, to truths involved 
 In geometric symbols, scorning those. 
 Perchance too much, who wooed the thriftless muse. 
 Here, though in warbling whisper oft I breathed 
 The lay, were wanting, what young Fancy deems 
 The life-springs of her being, rocks, and caves. 
 And huddling brooks, and torrent-falls divine. 
 In quest of these, at Summer's vacant hour. 
 Pleased would I stray ; when, in a northern vale. 
 So chance ordained, a Xaiad sad I found 
 Robbed of her silver vase ; I soothed tho nymph 
 With song of sympathy, and cursed the fiend 
 Who stole the gift of Thetis.' Hence the cause 
 Why, favored by tho blue-eyed sisterhood, 
 They sootho with songs my solitary ear. 
 
 WATEB. — ITS POWERS AND PRAISES. — rTS LE3SO.<t3 OP 
 GRATITrOB, BESBVOLBSCE, UUMIUTY, INDDSTRT, AND 
 
 Nor is Lincia silent — ' Long,' she cries, 
 ' Too long has man waged sacrilegious war 
 With the vexed elements, and chief with that, 
 Which elder Thalcs, and tho bard of Thebes, 
 Held first of things tcrrestial ; nor misdeemed : 
 For, when the Spirit creative deigned to move. 
 He moved upon tlio waters. revere 
 Our power : for were its vital force withheld, 
 Where then are Vegetation's vernal bloom, 
 Where its autumnal wealth ? but we are kind 
 As powerful ; let reverence lead to love. 
 And both to emulation ! Not a rill, 
 That winds its sparkling current o'er the plain, 
 
 ' St. John's College, in CainbriclRe, founded by Margaret, 
 Countess of Richmonil, mother of Uenry VII. 
 
 2 Alluding to .Ma.sDn's Ode to a Water Nymph, written a 
 year or two after his aUmission to tho university. 
 
 Reflecting to tho sun bright reoomponso 
 For every beam he lends, but reads thy soul 
 A generous lecture. Not a pansy pale, 
 That driuks its daily nurture from that rill. 
 Rut breathes in fragrant accents to thy soul. 
 So, by thy pity cheered, tho languished head 
 Of poverty might smile.' Whoe'er beheld 
 Our humble train forsake their native vale 
 To elimb tho haughty hill ? Ambition, speak ! 
 Ho blushes, and is mute. When did our streams. 
 By force unpent, in dull stagnation sleep '/ 
 Let Sloth unfold his arms and tell the time. 
 Or, if the tyranny of Art infringed 
 Our rights, when did our patient floods submit 
 Witliuut recoil ? Servility retires. 
 And clinks his gilded chain. 0, learn from us. 
 And tell it to thy nation, British bard ! 
 Uncurbed Ambition, unresisting Sloth, 
 And base Dependence, are tho fiends accurst 
 That pull down mighty empires. If they scorn 
 The awful truth, be thino to hold it dear. 
 So, through tho vale of life, thy flowing hours 
 Shall glide serene ; and, like Lineia's rill. 
 Their free, yet not licentious course fulfilled. 
 Sink in the Ocean of Eternity. 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 BEOAPIT0LATION J SUBJECTS OP THE PREVIOCS BOOKS. 
 
 Nor yet, divine Simplicity, withdraw 
 That aid auspicious, which, in Art's domain. 
 Already has reformed whate'er prevailed 
 Of foreign, or of false j has led the curve 
 That Nature loves through all her sylvan haunts ; 
 Has stolen tho fence unnoticed that arrests 
 Her vagrant herds ; given lustre to her lawns, 
 Gloom to her groves, and, in expanse serene. 
 Devolved that watery mirror at her foot. 
 O'er which she loves to bond and view her chax'ms. 
 
 GRATITUDE OF ANIMALS FOR THE CHANGES MADE BY TASTE. 
 
 And toll me, thou, whoe'er hast now-arranged 
 By her chaste rules thy garden, if thy heart 
 Fools not the warm, the self-dilating glow 
 Of true benevolence ? Thy flocks, thy herds. 
 That browse luxurious o'er those very plots 
 Which once were barren, bless thoe for tho change; 
 The birds of air — which thy funereal yews 
 Of shape uncouth, and leaden sons of earth, 
 Antffius and Enceladus, with clubs 
 Uplifted, long had frighted from tho scene — 
 Now pleased return ; they porch on every spray, 
 And swell their little throats, and warble wild 
 Their vernal minstrelsy ; to Heaven and thee 
 It is a hymn of thanks : do thou, liko Heaven, 
 With tutelary care reward their song. 
 
 0RSAME.NT3 E) LANDSCAPE OARDKNINO ESDCRING TASTE 
 
 AND EPUEUBBAL FASHION. 
 
 Erewhilo the muso, industrious to combine 
 Nature's own charms, with these alono adorned 
 
178 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 The Genius of the scene ; but other gifts 
 
 She has in store, which gladly now she brings, 
 
 And he shall proudly wear. Kuow, when she broke 
 
 The spells of Fashion, from the orumbliiig wreck 
 
 Of her enchantments sagely did she cull 
 
 Those relics rich of old Vitruvian skill, 
 
 With what the sculptor's hand in i-l.x-.ic d.iys 
 
 Made breathe in brass or marhU' ; Hum thu hag 
 
 Had purloined, and disjio^td in l-'nlly';. l.iiie ; 
 
 To him these trophies of her victory 
 
 She bears ; and where his awful nod ordains 
 
 Conspicuous means to place. He shall direct 
 
 Her dubious judgment, from the various hoard 
 
 Of ornamental treasures, how to choose 
 
 The simplest and the best ; on these his seal 
 
 Shall stamp great Nature's image and his own, 
 
 To charm for unborn ages. Fling the rest 
 
 Back to the beldame, bid her whirl them all 
 
 In her vain vortex, lift them now to-day. 
 
 Now plunge in night, as, through the humid rack 
 
 Of April cloud, swift flits the trembling beam. 
 
 But precepts tire, and this fastidious age 
 Rejects the strain didactic : try we, then, 
 In livelier narrative the truths to veil 
 AVe dare not dictate. Sons of Albion, hear ! 
 The tale I tell is full of strange event. 
 And piteous circumstance ; yet deem not ye, 
 If names I feign, that therefore facts are feigned : 
 Nor hence refuse (what most augments the charm 
 Of storied woe) that fond credulity 
 Which binds the attentive soul in closer chains. 
 
 At manhood's prime Alcanders duteous tear 
 Fell on his father's grave. The fair domain, 
 Which then became his ample heritage. 
 That father had reformed ; each line destroyed 
 Which Belgic dulness planned ; and Nature's self 
 Restored to all the rights she wished to claim. 
 
 Crowning a gradual hill his mansion rose 
 In ancient English grandeur : turrets, spires, 
 And windows, climbing high from base to roof 
 In wide and radiant rows, bespoke its birth 
 Coeval with those rich cathedral fanes 
 (Gothic ill-named) where harmony results 
 From disunited parts ; and shapes minute, 
 At once distinct and blended, boldly form 
 One vast, majestic whole. No modern art 
 Had marred with misplaced symmetry the pile. 
 
 Alcandor held it sacred : on a height. 
 Which westering to its site the front surveyed, 
 He first his taste employed ; fur there a line 
 Of thinly-scattered beech too tamely broke 
 The blank horizon. ' Draw we round yon knoll,' 
 Aloander cried, ' in stately Norman mode, 
 A wall embattled ; and within its guard 
 
 Let every structure needful for a farm 
 Arise in castle-semblance ; the huge barn 
 Shall with a mock portcullis arm the gate, 
 Where Ceres entering, o'er the flail-proof floor 
 In golden triumph rides ; some tower rotund 
 Shall to the pigeons and their callow young 
 Safe roost afford ; and every buttress broad. 
 Whose proud projection seems a mass of stone. 
 Give space to stall the heifer, and the steed. 
 So shall each part, though turned to rural use, 
 Deceive the eye with those bold feudal forms 
 That Fancy loves to gaze on.' 
 
 This achieved. 
 Now nearer home he calls returning art 
 To hide the structure rude where Winter pounds 
 In conic pit his congelations hoar. 
 That Summer may his tepid beverage cool 
 With the chill lu.\ury ; his dairy, too. 
 There stands of form unsightly : both to veil, 
 He builds of old disjointed moss-grown stone 
 A time-struck abbey. An impending grove 
 Screens it behind with reverential shade ; 
 While bright in front the stream reflecting spreads, 
 Which winds a mimic river o'er his lawn. 
 The fane conventual there is dimly seen. 
 The mitred window, and the cloister pale, 
 With many a mouldering column ; ivy soon 
 Round the rude chinks her net of foliage spreads ; 
 Its verdant meshes seem to prop the wall. 
 
 One native glory, more than all sublime, 
 Alcander's scene possest : 'T was Ocean's self — 
 He, boisterous king, against the eastern cliffs 
 Dashed his white foam ; a verdant vale between 
 Gave splendid ingress to his world of waves. 
 Slanting this vale the mound of that clear stream 
 Lay hid in shade, which slowly laved his lawn : 
 But there set free, the rill resumed its pace. 
 And hurried to the main. The dell it passed 
 Was rocky and retired : here art with ease 
 Might lead it o'er a grot, and, filtered there, 
 Teach it to sparkle down its craggy sides. 
 And fall and tinkle on its pebbled floor. 
 Here then that grot he builds, and conchs with spars, 
 Most petrified with branching corallines. 
 In mingled mode arranges : all found here 
 Propriety of place ; what viewed the main 
 Might well the shelly gifts of Thetis bear. 
 Not so the inland cave : with richer store [yield 
 Than those the neighboring mines and mountains 
 To hang its roof, would seem incongruous pride. 
 And fright the local genius from the scene. 
 
 THE SHIPWEBCK. — TBE KESCnEn MAmES. 
 
 One vernal morn, as urging hero the work 
 Surrounded by his hinds, from mild to cold 
 The season changed, from cold to sudden storm. 
 From storm to whirlwind. To the angry main 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 179 
 
 Swiftly he turns, and sees a laden ship 
 Dismasted by its rage. ' Hie, hie wo all,' 
 Alcaudcr cried, ' quick to the neighboring beach.' 
 They flew ; they came, but only to behold. 
 Tremendous sight ! the vessel dash its poop 
 Amid the boiling breakers. Need I tell 
 What strenuous arts were used, when all were used, 
 To save the sinking crow? One tender maid 
 Alone escaped, saved by Alcandor's arm. 
 Who boldly swam to snatch her from the plank 
 To which she feebly clung ; swiftly to shore, 
 And swifter to his home, the youth conveyed 
 Uis clay-cold prize, who at his portal first 
 By one deep sigh a sign of life betrayed. 
 
 A maid so saved, if but by Nature blessed 
 With common charms, had soon awaked a flamo 
 iMoro strong than pity, in that melting heart 
 Which pity warmed before. But she was fair 
 As poets picture Hebe, or the Spring ; 
 Graceful withal, as if each limb were cast 
 In that ideal mould whence Raphael drew 
 His Galatea : ' yes, th' impassioned youth 
 Felt more than pity when he viewed her charms. 
 Yet she (ah, strange to toll), though much he loved 
 Suppressed as much that sympathetic flame 
 Which love like his should kindle : Did ho kneel 
 In rapture at her feet ? she bowed the head. 
 And coldly bade him rise ; or did he plead. 
 In torma of purest passion, for a smile ? 
 She gave him but a tear : his manly form. 
 His virtues, ev'n the courage that preserved 
 Her life, beseemed no sentiment to wake 
 Warmer than gratitude ; and yet the love 
 Withheld from him she freely gave his scenes ; 
 On all their charms a just applause bestowed ; 
 And, if she e'er was happy, only then [played. 
 
 When wandering where those charms were most dis- 
 
 As thro' a neighb'ring grove, where ancient beech 
 Their awful foliage flung, Alcander led 
 The pensive maid along, ' Tell me,' she cried, 
 ' Why, on these forest features all intent, 
 Forbears my friend some scone distinct to give 
 To Flora and her fragrance '! Well I know 
 That in the general landscape's broad expanse 
 Their little blooms are lost ; but here are glades, 
 Circled with shade, yet pervious to the sun. 
 Where, if enamelled with their rainbow hues. 
 The eye would catch their splendor : turn thy tasto, 
 Even in this grassy circle where we stand. 
 To form their plots; there weave a woodbine bower, 
 And call that bower Nerina's.' At the word 
 Alcander smiled ; his fancy instant formed 
 The fragrant scene she wished ; and Love, with Art 
 Uniting, soon produced the finished whole. 
 
 1 Raphael, when pnintini; his celebrated Galatea, tells 
 Count Castiglione, in a letter, that ' essendo carwlla dl belle 
 donne, io mi servo di certa idea die viene alia mente.' 
 
 or TBE SITS OF Tun VLOKAI, BOWBK. 
 
 Down to the south the glade by Nature leaned ; 
 Art formed the slope still softer, opening there 
 Its foliage, and to oaoh Etesian galo 
 Admitlanco free dispensing ; thickest shade 
 Guarded the rest. — His taste will best conceive 
 The new arrangement, whose free footsteps, used 
 To forest haunts, have pierced their opening dells, 
 Where frequent tufts of swoetbrier, box, or thorn, 
 Steal on the green sward, but admit fair space 
 For many a mossy maze to wind between. 
 So here did Art arrange her flowery groups 
 Irregular, yet not in patches quaint. 
 But interposed, between the wandering lines 
 Of shaven turf which twisted to the path — 
 Gravel, or sand, that in as wild a wave 
 Stole round the verdant limits of the scene ; 
 Leading the eye to many a sculptured bust, 
 On shapely pedestal, of sage, or bard. 
 Bright heirs of fame, who, living, loved tho haunts 
 So fragrant, so sequestered. Many an urn 
 There too had place, with votive lay inscribed 
 To Freedom, Friendship, Solitude, or Love. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF THE BOWER OF FLORA. — A CONSERVATORY 
 
 And now each flower that hoars transplanting 
 Or blooms indigenous, adorned the scone : [change. 
 Only Nerina's wish, her woodbine bower. 
 Remained to crown tho whole. Here, far beyond 
 That humble wish, her lover's genius formed 
 A glittering fane, whore rare and alien plants 
 Might safely flourish ; where the citron sweet. 
 And fragrant orange, rich in fruit and flowers. 
 Might hang their silver stai-s, their golden globes, 
 On tho same odorous stem : yet scorning there 
 The glassy penthouse of ignoble form, 
 High on Ionic shafts he bade it tower 
 A proud rotunda ; to its sides conjoined 
 Two brood piazzas in theatric curve. 
 Ending in equal porticos sublime. 
 Glass roofed the whole, and sidelong to the south 
 'Twixt every fluted column lightly roared 
 Its wall pellucid. All within was day, 
 Was genial Summer's day, for secret stoves 
 Through all tho pile solstitial warmth convoyed. 
 
 Those led through isles of fragrance to the dome. 
 Each way in circling quadrant. That bright space 
 Guarded tho spicy tribes from Afrie's shore, 
 Or Ind, or Araby, Sabajan plants 
 Weeping with nard, and balsam. 
 
 In the midst 
 A statue stood, the work of Attic art ; 
 ltd thin light drapery, cast in fluid folds. 
 Proclaimed its ancientry ; all save tho head, 
 Which stole (for love is prono to gentlo thefts) 
 The features of Nerina ; yet that head. 
 
 So perfect in resembla 
 
 ISot 
 
 < tenderly impassioned ; to the t 
 
180 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Which Grecian skill had formed, so aptly joined, 
 Phidias himself might seem to have inspired 
 The chisel, bribed to do the amorous fraud. 
 One graceful hand held forth a flowery wreath, 
 The other pressed her zone ; while round the base 
 Dolphins, and Triton shells, and plants marine, 
 Proclaimed that Venus, rising from the sea. 
 Had veiled in Flora's modest vest her charms. 
 
 Such was the fane, and such the deity 
 Who seemed, with smile auspicious, to inhale 
 That incense which a tributary world, 
 From all its regions, round her altar breathed : 
 And yet, when to the shrine Alcander led 
 His living goddess, only with a sigh. 
 And starting tear, the statue and the dome 
 Reluctantly she viewed. And ' why/ she cried, 
 ' Why would my best preserver here erect, 
 With all the fond idolatry of love, 
 A wretch's image whom his pride should scorn 
 (For so his country bids him) ? Drive me hence, 
 Transport me quick to Gallia's hostile shore, 
 Hostile to thee, yet not, alas ! to her, 
 Who there was meant to sojourn : there, perchance. 
 My father, wafted by more prosperous gales, 
 Now mourns his daughter lost ; my brother there 
 Perhaps now soothes that venerable ago [chance 
 He should not soothe alone. Vain thought! per- 
 Both perished at Esupus — do not blush, 
 It was imt thiiu tli;it lir the ruthless flame ; 
 It was iK't tli'Mi, fli;it, like remorseless Cain, 
 Thirsted Inr bintlni's iiiund : thy heart disdains 
 The savage imputation. Rest thee there. 
 And, though thou pitiest, yet forbear to grace 
 A wretched alien, and a rebel deemed, 
 With honors ill-beseeming her to claim. 
 My wish, thou know'st, was humble as my state ; 
 I only begged a little woodbine bower. 
 Where I might sit and weep, while all around 
 The lilies and the blue-bells hung their heads 
 In seeming sympathy.' 'Does, then, the scene 
 Displease ? ' the disappointed lover cried ; 
 
 * Alas ! too much it pleases,' sighed the fair : 
 
 * Too strongly paints the passion which stern fate 
 Forbids me to return.' * Dost thou, then, love 
 Some happier youth ? * ' No, tell thy generous soul 
 Indeed I do not.' More she would have said, 
 But gushing grief prevented. From the fane 
 Silent he led her ; as from Eden's bower 
 
 The sire of men his weeping partner led, 
 Less lovely, and less innocent, than she. 
 
 Yet still Alcander hoped what last she sighed 
 Spoke more than gratitude ; the war might end ; 
 Her father might consent ; for that alone 
 Now seemed the duteous barrier to his bliss. 
 Already had he sent a faithful friend 
 To learn if France the reverend exile held : 
 That friend returned not. Meanwhile every sun 
 Which now (a year elapsed) diurnal rose 
 
 Beheld her still more pensive ; inward pangs, 
 From grief's concealment, hourly seemed to force 
 Health from her cheek, and quiet from her soul. 
 Alcander mourned the* change, yet still he hoped ; 
 For Love to Hope his flickering taper lends, 
 When Reason with his steady torch retires : 
 Hence did he try, by ever-varying arts, 
 And scenes of novel charm, her grief to calm. 
 
 Nor did he not employ the siren powers 
 Of Music and of Song ; or Painting, thine. 
 Sweet source of pure delight ! But I record 
 Those arts alone which form my sylvan theme. 
 
 SWANS.— GCINBA-FOWL.— BANTAMS.— PEACOCKS.— RI-NG- 
 
 At stated hours, full oft had he observed, 
 She fed with welcome grain the household fowl 
 That trespassed on his lawn ; this waked a wish 
 To give her feathered favorites space of land, 
 And lake appropriate : in a neighboring copse 
 He planned the scene ; for there the crystal spring, 
 That formed his river, from a rocky cleft 
 First bubbling, broke to day ; and spreading there 
 Slept on its rushes. ' Here my delving hinds,' 
 He cried, * shall soon the marshy soil remove, 
 And spread, in brief extent, a glittering lake. 
 Checkered with isles of verdure ; on yon rock 
 A sculptured river-god shall rest his urn ; 
 And through that urn the native fountain flow. 
 Thy wished-for bower, Nerina, shall adorn 
 The southern bank ; the downy race, that swim 
 The lake, or pace the shore, with livelier charms, 
 Yet no less rural, here will meet thy glance, 
 Than flowers inauimate.' Full soon was scooped 
 The watery bed, and soon, by margin green, 
 And rising banks, enclosed ; the highest gavo 
 Site to a rustic fabric, shelving deep 
 Within the thicket, and in front composed 
 Of three unequal arches, lowly all, 
 The surer to expel the noontide glare, 
 Yet yielding liberal inlet to the scene ; 
 Woodbine with jasmine carelessly entwined 
 Concealed the needful masonry, and hung 
 In free festoons, and vested all the cell. 
 Hence did the lake, the islands, and the rock, 
 A living landscape spread ; the feathered fleet. 
 Led by two mantling swans, at every creek 
 Now touched, and now unmoored ; now on full sail, 
 With pennons spread and oary feet they plied 
 Their vagrant voyage ; and now, as if becalmed, 
 'Tween shore and shore at anchor seemed to sleep. 
 Around those shores the fowl that fear the stream 
 At random rove : hither hot Guinea sends 
 Her gadding troop ; here, midst his speckled dames, 
 The pigmy Chanticleer of bantam winds 
 His clarion ; while, supreme in glittering state. 
 The peacock spreads his rainbow train, with eyes 
 Of sapphire bright, irradiate each with gold. 
 Meanwhile from every spray the ringdoves coo, 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 181 
 
 The linnneta warblo, captive none,i but lurod 
 By food to haunt the umbrage : all the glade 
 Is lire, is music, liberty, and lore. 
 
 THg STRASCllR T 
 
 .I.CANDBR^S OROHNDS. — CONTKR- 
 
 And is there now to Pleasure or to Use 
 One scene devoted in the wide domain 
 Its master has not polished ? Rumor spreads 
 Its praises far, and many a stranger stops 
 With curious eye to censure or admire- 
 To all his lawns arc pervious ; oft himself 
 With courteous greeting will the critic hail, 
 And join him in the circuit. Give we here 
 (If Candor will with patient ear attend) 
 The social dialogue Alcander held 
 With one, a youth of mild yet manly mien, 
 Who seemed to taste the beauties ho surveyed. 
 
 'Little, I fear me, will a stranger's eye 
 Find here to praise, where rich Vitruvian art 
 Haa reared no temples, no triumphal arcs ; 
 Where no Palladian bridges span the stream. 
 But all is homebred Fancy.' • For that cause. 
 And chiefly that,' the polished youth replied, 
 ' I view each part with rapture. Ornament, 
 When foreign or fantastic, never charmed 
 My judgment ; here I tread on British ground ; 
 With British annals all I view accords. 
 Some Yorkist, or Lancastrian baron bold, 
 To awe his vassals, or to stem his foes, 
 Yon massy bulwark built ; on yonder pile. 
 In ruin beauteous, I distinctly mark 
 The ruthless traces of stern Henry's hand.' 
 
 •Yet,' cried Alcander (interrupting mild 
 The stranger's speech), ' if so, yon ancient seat, 
 Pride of my ancestors, had mocked repair. 
 And by proportion's Greek or Roman laws 
 That pile had been rebuilt, thou wouldst not then, 
 I trust, have blamed, if there on Doric shafts 
 A temple rose ; if some tall obelisk 
 O'ertopped yon grove, or bold triumphal arch 
 Usurped my castle's station.' — ' Sparc me yet 
 Yon solemn ruin,' the quick youth returned. 
 ' No mouldering aqueduct, no yawning crypt 
 Sepulchral, will console me for its fate.' 
 
 ' I mean not that,' the master of the scene 
 Replied ; 'though classic rules to modern piles 
 Should give the just arrangement, shun wo here 
 By those to form our ruins ; much we own 
 They please, when, by Panini's pencil drawn, 
 Or darkly graved by Piranesi's hand. 
 And fitly might some Tuscan garden grace ; 
 But Time's rude mace has hero all Roman piles 
 Levelled so low, that who on British ground 
 Attempts the task, builds but a splendid lie. 
 Which mocks historic credence. Hence the cause 
 
 Why Saxon piles, or Norman, hero prevail : 
 Form they a rude, 'tis yet an English whole.' 
 
 'And much I praise thy choice,' the stranger 
 cried ; 
 ■ Such chaste selection shames the common mode, 
 Which, mingling structures of far-distant times. 
 Far-distant regions, here, perchance, erects 
 A fane to Freedom, where her Brutus stands 
 In act to strike the tyrant ; there a tent. 
 With orescent crowned, with soymitars adorned, 
 Meet for some Bajazet ; northward we turn. 
 And lo r a pigmy pyramid pretends 
 We tread the realms of Pharaoh ; quickly thence 
 Our =.Miti'.T!i -t'M. iToscnts us heaps of stone 
 I!:iii III 1':: I'ir.-lo. Thus from ago 
 
 Iiii:t_ III I in I' iiiiiii r-; headlong on. 
 
 Till, like fatigu.d Villario,' soon we find 
 
 We better like a field.' ' Nicely thy hand 
 
 The childish landscape touches,* cried his host. 
 
 'For Fashion ever is a wayward child ; 
 
 Yet sure wc might forgive her faults like these. 
 
 If but in separate or in single scenes 
 
 She thus with Fancy wantoned : should I lead 
 
 Thy step, my friend (for our accordant tastes 
 
 Prompt me to give thee that familiar name), 
 
 Behind this screen of elm. thou there might'st find 
 
 I too had idly played the trn.^nt's part, 
 
 And broke the bounds of judgment.' 
 
 ' Lead me there,' 
 Briskly the youth returned, ' for having proved 
 Thy epic genius hero, why not peruse 
 Thy lighter ode or eclogue?' Smiling, thence 
 Alcander led him to the woodbine bower 
 Which last our song described ; who, seated there, 
 In silent transport viewed the lively scene. 
 
 ' I see,' his host resumed, ' my sportive art 
 Finds pardon here ; not e'en yon classic form. 
 Pouring his liquid treasures from his vase. 
 Though foreign from the soil, provokes thy frown. 
 Try we thy candor further : higher art, 
 And more luxurious, haply too more vain, 
 Adorns yon southern coppice.' On they pass 
 Through a wild thicket, till the perfumed air 
 Gave to another sense its prelude rich 
 On what the eye should feast. But now the grove 
 Expands ; and now the rose, the garden's queen, 
 Amidst her blooming subjects' humbler charms. 
 On every plot her crimson pomp displays. 
 ' paradise ! ' the entering youth exclaimed, [balm, 
 ' Groves whose rich trees weep odorous gums and 
 Others whose fruit, burnished with golden rind. 
 Dang amiable, Hesperian fables true. 
 If true, here only.' Thus, in Milton's phrase 
 
 1 See Pope's Epistle lo Lord Burlington, v. 88. 
 
182 
 
 RURAL POETRY. MASON. 
 
 Sublime, the youth his admiration poured, 
 While passing to the dome ; his next short step 
 Unveiled the central statue : ' Heavens ! just heav- 
 
 He cried, ' 't is my Nerina.' ' Thine, mad youth ? 
 Forego the word,' Alcander said, and paused ; 
 His utterance failed ; a thousand clustering 
 And all of blackest omen to his peace, [thoughts, 
 Recoiled upon his brain, deadened all sense. 
 And at the statue's base him headlong oast, 
 A lifeless load of being. — Ye, whose hearts 
 Are ready at Humanity's soft call 
 To drop the tear, I charge you weep not yet. 
 But fearfully suspend the bursting woe : 
 Nerina's self appears ; the further aisle 
 She, fate-directed, treads. 
 
 Does she too faint? 
 Would Heaven she could ! it were a happy swoon 
 Might soften her fixed form, more rigid now 
 Than is her marble semblance. One stiff hand 
 Lies leaden on her breast ; the other raised [eyes. 
 To heaven, and half-way clenched ; steadfast her 
 Yet viewless ; and her lips, which oped to shriek, 
 Can neither shriek nor close. So might she stand 
 Forever : he, whose sight caused the dread change. 
 Though now he clasps her in his anxious arm, 
 Fails to unbend one sinew of her frame ; 
 'T is ice ; 't is steel. But see, Alcander wakes ; 
 And waking, as by magic sympathy, 
 Nerina whispers, ' All is well, my friend ; 
 
 'T was but a vision ; I may yet revive 
 
 But still his arm supports me : aid him, friend. 
 And bear me swiftly to my woodbine bower ; 
 For there indeed I wish to breathe my last.' 
 
 So saying, her cold cheek and parched brow 
 Turned to a livid paleness ; her dim eyes 
 Sunk in their sockets ; shai-p contraction pressed 
 Her temples, ears, and nostrils : signs well known 
 To those that tend the dying. Both the youths 
 Perceived the change ; and had stern Death him- 
 self 
 Waved his black banner visual o'er their heads, 
 It could not more appall. With trembling step 
 And silent, both convoyed her to the bower. 
 
 ' Her languid limbs there decently composed. 
 She thus her speech resumed : ' Attend my words, 
 Brave Cleon ! dear Alcander ! generous pair : 
 For both have tender interest in this heart. 
 Which soon shall beat no more. That I am thine 
 By a dear father's just commands, I own, 
 Much-honored Cleon ! take the hand he gave, 
 And with it, 0, if I could give my heart, 
 Thou wert its worthy owner. All I can 
 (And that preserved with chastest fealty) 
 Duteous I give thee, Cleon, it is thine ; 
 Not ev'n this dear preserver e'er could gain 
 
 More from my soul than friendship — that be his : 
 Yet let me own, what, dying, soothes the pang. 
 That, had thyself and duty ne'er been known, 
 He must have had Hly love.' She paused ; and 
 
 A silent tear ; then prest the stranger's hand ; 
 Then bowed her head upon Aloander's breast. 
 And ' Bless them both, kind Heaven ! ' she prayed, 
 and died. 
 
 CLEON ASD ALCANDER. — EXPLANATION. — CLEON DEPARTS. 
 
 ' And blest art thou,' cried Cleon (in a voice 
 Struggling with grief for utterance), ' blest to die 
 Ere thou hadst questioned me, and I perforce 
 Had told a tale which must have sent thy soul 
 In horror from thy bosom. Now it leaves 
 A smile of peace upon those pallid lips, 
 That speaks its parting happy. Go, fair saint ! 
 Go to thy palm-crowned father ! throned in bliss, 
 And seated by his side, thou wilt not now 
 Deplore the savage stroke that sealed his doom ; 
 Go, hymn the Fount of Mercy, who, from ill 
 Educing good, makes ev'n a death like his, 
 A life surcharged with tender woes like thine. 
 The road to joys eternal. Maid, farewell ! 
 I leave the casket that thy virtues held 
 To him whose breast sustains it ; more beloved. 
 Perhaps more worthy, yet not loving more 
 Than did thy wretched Cleon.' At the word 
 He bathed in tears the hand she dying gave. 
 Returned it to her side, and hasty rose. 
 Alcander, starting from his trance of grief. 
 Cried, ' Stay, I charge thee stay ! ' ' And shall he 
 
 stay,' 
 Cleon replied, ' whose presence stabbed thy peace ? 
 Hear this before we part ; That breathless maid 
 Was daughter to a venerable sage. 
 Whom Boston, when with peace and safety blest. 
 In rapture heard pour from his hallowed tongue 
 Religion's purest dictates. 'Twas my chance. 
 In early period of our civil broils, 
 To save his precious life : and hence the sire 
 Did to my love his daughter's charms consign ; 
 But, till the war should cease, if ever cease. 
 Deferred our nuptials. Whither she was sent 
 In search of safety, well, I trust, thou knoVst ; 
 He meant to follow ; but those ruthless flames, 
 That spared nor friend nor foe, nor sex nor age. 
 Involved the village, where on sickly couch 
 He lay confined, and whither he had fied 
 A while to sojourn. There (I see thee shrink) 
 AVas he that gave Nerina being burnt ! 
 Burnt by thy countrymen ! to ashes burnt ! 
 Fraternal hands and Christian lit the flame. — 
 thou hast cause to shudder. I meanwhile 
 With his brave son a distant warfare waged ; 
 And him, now I have found the prize I sought. 
 And finding lost, I hasten to rejoin ; 
 Vengeance and glory call mo.' At the word, 
 Not fiercer does the tigress quit her cave 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 To soizo tho hinds that robbed her of her young, 
 Than he tho bower. ' Stay, I conjure thee, stay,' 
 Alcander cried, but ore tho word was spoko 
 Cleon was seen no more. 
 
 ALCiSDER'S SOLILOQCT OVER THE CnRPSE Of SF.BlSi. 
 
 ' Then bo it so,' 
 The youth continued, clasping to his heart 
 The beauteous corse, and smiling as ho spoko 
 (Yet such a smile as far out-sorrows tears), 
 ' Xow thou art mine entirely — Now no more 
 Shall duty dare disturb us — Lovo alone — 
 But hark ! he comes again — Away, vain fear ! 
 'Twas but the fluttering of thy feathered flock. 
 True to their customed hour, behold they troop 
 From island, grove, and lake. Arise, my love, 
 E.xtend thy hand — I lift it, but it falls ; 
 Hence, then, fond fools, and pine ! Nerina's hand 
 Has lost tho power to feed you. Hence, and die.' 
 
 Thus plaining, to his lips the icy palm 
 He lifted, and with ardent passion kissed ; 
 Then cried, in agony, ' On this dear hand. 
 Once tremblingly alive to Love's soft touch, 
 I hoped to seal my faith.' This thought awaked 
 Another sad soliloquy, which they 
 Whoe'er have loved will from their hearts supply. 
 And they who have not will but hear and smile. 
 
 And let them smile, but let the seorners learn 
 There is a solemn luxury in grief 
 Which they shall never taste ; well known to those. 
 And only those, in Solitude's deep gloom 
 Who heave the sigh sincerely : Fancy there 
 Waits the fit moment ; and, when Time has calmed 
 The first o'erwhelming tempest of their woe. 
 Piteous she steals upon the mourner's breast 
 Her precious balm to shed : 0, it has power. 
 Has magic power to soften and to soothe. 
 Thus duly ministered. Alcander felt 
 The charm, yet not till many a lingering moon 
 Had hung upon her zenith o'er his couch. 
 And heard his midnight wailings. Docs he stray 
 But near the fated temple, or the bower ? 
 He feels a chilly monitor within. 
 Who bids him pause. Does he at distance view 
 His grot? 'tis darkened with Nerina's storm, 
 Ev'n at the blaze of noon. 
 
 ALCANDER CHOOSES A SPOT EOK NERIJIa'S TOMB. — DESCRIP- 
 TION OF THE SCENE. 
 
 Yet there are walks 
 The lost one never trod ; and there are seats 
 Where he was never happy by her side. 
 And these he still can sigh in. Here at length. 
 As if by chance, kind Fancy brought her aid, 
 When wandering through a grove of sable yew, 
 Raised by his ancestors : their Sabbath-path 
 Led through its gloom, what time too dark a stole 
 Was o'er Religion's decent features drawn 
 By Puritanic zeal. Long had their boughs 
 Forgot the shears ; the spire, the holy ground 
 
 They banished by their umbrage. ' What if hero,' 
 Cried the sweet soother, in a whisper soft, 
 ' Some open space were formed, where other shades, 
 Yet all of solemn sort, cypress and bay, 
 Funereal, pensive birch, its languid arms 
 That droops, with waving willows deemed to weep. 
 And shivering aspens, mixt their varied green ; 
 What if yon trunk, shorn of its murky crest. 
 Revealed the sacred fane ? ' Alcander heard 
 The charmer ; ev'ry accent seemed his own. 
 So much they touched his heart's sad unison. 
 ' Yes, yes,' he cried, ' why not behold it all ? 
 That bough removed shows me tho very vault 
 Where my Nerina sleeps, and whore, when Heaven 
 In pity to my plaint the mandate seals. 
 My dust with hers shall mingle. 
 
 THE Fl-NER.IL CELL ; NERINA'S BUST ; ORIEP SOOTHED BY 
 THE PRACTICE OP BENEFICENCE. — ASOELS. 
 
 Now his hinds, 
 
 I'iill. ,1 t.i thr t;i-k. their willing a.xes wield ; 
 
 ,I,,\ III! 1" i r, ;i. wiili'ss of the cause, 
 
 TIl.ii mil Ii l"\i I I. .nl his sylvan arts resume. 
 
 Aii'l i.xi. iiiiliiii 111,, centre of the gloom, 
 
 A -ii,,| .,1 tivi-iiiu' n">ts and living moss, 
 
 \\ nil HI li. ' iliiii li'il. with wattled osiers lined, 
 
 He linN thiiii v:\i-'- : it seemed a hermit's cell ; 
 
 Yet void of houv-glass, skull, and maple dish. 
 
 Its mimic garniture : Aloander's taste 
 
 Disdains to trick with emblematic toys 
 
 The place where he and Melancholy mean 
 
 To fix Nerina's bust, her genuine bust, 
 
 The model of the marble. There he hides. 
 
 Close as a miser's gold, the sculptured clay ; 
 
 And but at early morn and latest eve 
 
 Unlocks the simple shrine, and heaves a sigh ; 
 
 Then does he turn, and through tho glimmering 
 
 Cast a long glance upon her house of death ; 
 Then views the bust again, and drops a tear. 
 
 Is this idolatry, ye sage ones, say? 
 
 Or, if ye doubt, go view the numerous train 
 
 Of poor and fatherless his care consoles ; 
 
 The sight will tell thee, ho that dries their tears 
 
 Has unseen angels hovering o'er his head. 
 
 Who leave their heaven to see him shed his own. 
 
 CONCLCSIOS. — BBIIISH FREEDOM. — THE PATRIOT VIRTCES 
 
 Here close we, sweet Simplicity ! tho tale. 
 And with it let us yield to youthful bards 
 Tliat Dorian reed wc but awaked to voico 
 When Fancy prompted, and when Leisure smuv,. , 
 Hopeless of general praise, and well repaid. 
 If they of classic ear, unpalled by rhyme, 
 Whoinchangeful pause can please, and numbers free, 
 Accept our song with candor. They perchance. 
 Led by the muse to solitude and shade. 
 May turn that art we sing to soothing use, 
 At this ill-omened hour, when Rapine rides 
 In titled triumph ; when Corruption waves 
 
184 
 
 RURAL POETRY. MASON TUSSER. 
 
 Her banners broadly in the face of day, 
 And shows the indignant world the host of slaves 
 She turns from Honor's standard. Patient there, 
 Yet not desponding, shall the sons of Peace 
 Await the day, when, smarting with his wrongs, 
 Old England's genius wakes ; when with him wakes 
 That plain integrity, contempt of gold, 
 Disdain of slavery, liberal awe of rule, 
 
 AVhich fixed the rights of people, peers, and prince, 
 
 And on them founded the majestic pile 
 
 Of British freedom ; t»ade fair Albion rise 
 
 The scourge of tyrants ; sovereign of the seas ; 
 
 And arbitress of empires. return. 
 
 Ye long-lost train of virtues ! swift return 
 
 To save — 't is Albion prompts your poet's prayer — 
 
 Her throne, her altars, and her laureate bowers. 
 
 ilwBStx's ''linu's fnshuitir])." 
 
 Calm weather in June, 
 
 Forgotte 
 
 ; the li 
 
 1 past, 
 
 Wash sheep (for the better), where water doth run. 
 And let him go cleanly and dry in the sun : 
 Then shear him, and spare not, at two days an end; 
 The sooner, the better his corps will amend. 
 Reward not thy sheep, when ye take off his coat, 
 With twitches and patches as broad as a groat ; 
 Let not such ungentleness happen to thine. 
 Lest fly with her gentils do make it to pine. 
 Let lambs go undipped till June be half worn, 
 The better the fleeces will grow to be shorn : 
 The pye will discharge thee for pulling the rest ; 
 The lighter the sheep is, then feedeth it best. 
 If meadow be forward, be mowing of some. 
 But mow as the makers may well overcome. 
 Take heed to the weather, the wind, and the sky, 
 If danger approacheth, then cockapacc cry. 
 Plough early till ten o'clock, then to thy hay, 
 In ploughing and carting, so profit ye may. 
 By little and little thus doing ye win, [in. 
 
 That plough shall not hinder, when harvest comes 
 Provide of thine own, to have all things at hand. 
 Lest work and the workman, unoccupied, stand : 
 Love seldom to borrow, that thinkest to save. 
 For he that once lendeth twice looketh to have. 
 Let cart be well searched, without and within. 
 Well clouted and greased, ere hay-time begin. 
 The hay being carried, though carter had sworn, 
 Cart's bottom, well boarded, is saving of corn. 
 Good husbands, that lay to save all things upright. 
 For tumbrels and carts have a shed ready dight ; 
 Where under the hog may in winter lie warm ; 
 To stand so inclosed, as wind do no harm. 
 So likewise a hovel will serve for a room, 
 To stack on the peason when harvest shall come ; 
 And serve thee in winter moreover than that. 
 To shut up thy porklings thou mindest to fat. 
 Some barn-room have little, and yard-room as much. 
 Yet corn in the field appertaineth to such : 
 Then hovels or ricks they are forced to make, 
 Abroad or at home, for necessity's sake. 
 
 Make sucr of bread-corn (of all other grain), 
 Lie dry and well looked to, for mouse and for rain; 
 Though fitches and pease, and such other as they 
 (For pestering too much), on a hovel ye lay. 
 
 With whins or with furzes thy hovel renew. 
 For turf and for sedge, for to bake and to brew ; 
 For charcoal and seaooal, and also for thack. 
 For tall-wood and billet, as yearly ye lack. 
 What husbandly husbands, except they be fools, 
 But handsome have store-house, for trinkets and 
 And all in good order, fast locked to lie, [tools? 
 Whatever is needful, to find by-and-by. 
 
 Thy houses and barns would be looked upon. 
 And all things amended, ere harvest come on : 
 Things thus set in order, in quiet and rest, 
 Shall further thy harvest and pleasure thee best. 
 
 The bushes and thorns, with the shrubs that do noy, 
 In woodsere or summer, cut down to destroy : 
 But whereas decay to the tree ye will none. 
 For danger in woodsere let hacking alone. 
 
 At midsummer, down with the brambles and brakes, 
 And, after, abroad, with thy forks and thy rakes. 
 Set mowers a mowing, where meadow is grown. 
 The longer now standing, the worse to be mown. 
 
 Now down with the grass upon headlands about. 
 That groweth in shadow, so rank and so stout ; 
 But grass upon headlands of barley and pease, 
 When harvest is ended, go mow if ye please. 
 
 Such muddy deep ditches, and pits in the field, 
 That all a dry summer no water will yield ; 
 By fieing and casting that mud upon heaps. 
 Commodities many the husbandman reaps. 
 * * Ground gravelly, sandy, and mi.xed with clay. 
 Is naughty for hops, any manner of way ; 
 Or if it be mingled with rubbish and stone. 
 For dryness and barrenness let it alone. 
 Choose soil for the hop of the rottenest mould. 
 Well dunged and wrought, as a garden-plot should : 
 Not far from the water (but not overflown). 
 This lesson well noted is meet to be known. * * 
 
'Ballah for 4tuuc. 
 
 THE CHILDREN IN THE WOOD. 
 
 AN ANCIENT BALLAD. 
 
 Now ponder well, ye parents dear, 
 
 The words which I shall write ; 
 A doleful story you shall hear 
 
 In time brought forth to light : 
 A gentleman of good account 
 
 In Norfolk lived of late. 
 Whose wealth and riches did surmount 
 
 Most men of his estate. 
 
 Sore sick he was, and like to die, 
 
 No help that he could have ; 
 His wife by him as sick did lie ; 
 
 And both possessed one grave. 
 No love between these two was lost. 
 
 Each was to other kind ; 
 In love they lived, in love they died, 
 
 And left two babes behind. 
 
 The one, a fine and pretty boy. 
 
 Not passing three years old j 
 Th' other, a girl, more young than ho, 
 
 And made in beauty's mould. 
 The father left his little son, 
 
 As plainly doth appear, 
 When ho to perfect age should come — 
 
 Three hundred pounds a year. 
 
 And to his little daughter Jane, 
 
 Five hundred pounds in gold. 
 To be paid down on marriage day, 
 
 Which might not bo controlled : 
 But if the children chanced to die. 
 
 Ere they to age should come, 
 Their uncle should possess their wealth - 
 
 For so the will did run. 
 
 Now, brother, said the dying man. 
 
 Look on my children dear. 
 Be good unto my boy and girl. 
 
 No friends else have I here : 
 To God and you I do commend 
 
 My children night and day ; 
 But little while, bo sure, we have 
 
 Within this world to stay. 
 
 You must be father and mother both. 
 
 And uncle, all in one ; 
 God knows what will become of them. 
 
 When I am dead and gone. 
 
 With that hcspakc their mother dear, 
 
 brother kind, quoth she. 
 You are the man must bring our babes 
 
 To wealth or misery. 
 
 And if you keep them carefully, 
 
 Then God will you reward ; 
 If otherwise you seem to deal, 
 
 God will your deeds regard. 
 With lips as cold as any stone. 
 
 She kissed her children small : 
 God bless you both, my children dear : 
 
 With that the tears did fall. 
 
 These spcochos then their brother spoke 
 
 T„tl,i- -•"\ -I'l- l^"■'■'•■■■ 
 The 1, . ' _ ; V ' ijil'lren dear, 
 
 If I (1.1 \\ i"iiu' \ "111 .liililren dear, 
 WliLii y.iu i.iv hi hi in grave ! 
 
 Their parents being dead and gone, 
 
 The children home he takes, 
 And brings them both into his house, 
 
 And much of them he makes ; 
 He had not kept these pretty babes 
 
 A twelvemonth and a day. 
 When for their wealth he did devise 
 
 To make them both away. 
 
 He bargained with two ruffians rude, 
 
 Which were of furious mood, 
 That they should take the children young. 
 
 And slay them in a wood. 
 He told his wife, and all he had. 
 
 He did the children send 
 To bo brought up to London fair. 
 
 With one that was his friend. 
 Away then went these pretty babes, 
 
 Kcjoioing at that tide, 
 Rejoicing with a merry mind. 
 
 They should on cock-horse ride : 
 They prate and prattle pleasantly, 
 
 As they ride on the way, 
 To those that should their butchers be. 
 
 And work their lives' decay. 
 
 So that the pretty speech they had 
 Made murderers' hearts relent. 
 
 And they that undertook the deed 
 Full sore they did repent : 
 
 24 
 
RURAL POETRY. — BARNARD. 
 
 Yet one of them, more hard of heart, 
 
 Did vow to do his charge, 
 Because the wretch that hired him 
 
 Haxi paid him very large. 
 The other would not agree thereto. 
 
 So here they fell at strife ; 
 With one another they did fight 
 
 About the children'.'^ life ; 
 And he that was of mildest mood 
 
 Did slay the other there, 
 Within an unfrequented wood, 
 
 While babes did quake for fear. 
 
 He took the children by the hand, 
 
 When tears stood in their eye, 
 And bid them come and go with him, 
 
 And look they did not cry ; 
 And two long miles he led them on. 
 
 While they for food complain : 
 Stay here, quoth he, I'll bring you bread, 
 
 When I do come again. 
 
 These pretty babes, with hand in hand. 
 
 Went wandering up and down. 
 But never more they saw the man 
 
 Returning from the town. 
 Their pretty lips with blackberries 
 
 Were all besmeared and dyed, 
 And when they saw the darksome night, 
 
 They sat them down and cried. 
 
 Thus wandered these two pretty babes, 
 
 Till death did end their grief ; 
 In one another's arms they died. 
 
 As babes wanting relief. 
 No burial these pretty babes 
 
 Of any man receives, 
 Till Robin Red-breast painfully 
 
 Did cover them with leaves. 
 
 And now the heavy wrath of God 
 
 Upon their uncle fell ; 
 Yea, fearful fiends did haunt his house, 
 
 His conscience felt a hell ; 
 His barns were fired, his goods consumed. 
 
 His lands were barren made, 
 His cattle died within the field, 
 
 And nothing with him staid. 
 
 And, in the voyage of Portugal, 
 
 Two of his sons did die ; 
 And, to conclude, himself was brought 
 
 To extreme misery ; 
 He pawned and mortgaged all his land. 
 
 Ere seven years came about : 
 And now at length this wicked act 
 
 Did by this means come out : 
 
 The fellow that did take in hand, 
 
 These children for to kill, 
 Was for a robbery judged to die. 
 
 As was God's blessed will ; 
 
 Who did coHfess the very truth, 
 
 The which is here expressed : 
 Their uncle died, while he for debt 
 
 In prison long did rest. 
 All you that be executors made, 
 
 And overseers eke. 
 Of children that be fatherless, 
 
 And infants mild and meek ; 
 Take you example by this thing, 
 
 And yield to each his right, 
 Lest God, with such like misery. 
 
 Your wicked minds requite. 
 
 LADY BARNARD'S *'AULD ROBIN GRAY." 
 
 When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at 
 And a' the warld to sleep are gane ; [hame, 
 
 The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my ee 
 When my gudeman lies sound by me. 
 Young Jamie loo'd me weel, and socht me for his 
 
 But, saving a eroun, he had naething else beside ; 
 To make that croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea ; 
 And the croun and the pund were baith for me. 
 He hadna been awa a week but only twa, [awa ; 
 When my mother she fell sick, and the cow was stown 
 My father brak his arm, and young Jamie at the sea. 
 And Auld Robin Gray cam' a-courtin' me. 
 My father couldna wark, and my mother couldna 
 
 spin ; [win ; 
 
 I toiled day and nicht, but their bread I couldna 
 Auld Rob maintained them baith, and, wi' tears in 
 
 his ee. 
 Said, Jennie, for their sakes, 0, marry me ! 
 My heart it said nay, for I looked for Jamie back ; 
 But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a 
 
 The ship it was a wrack — why didna Jamie dee ? 
 Or why do I live to say, Wae 's me ? 
 My father argued sair ; my mother didna speak ; 
 But she lookit in my face till my heart was like to 
 break : [in the sea, 
 
 Sae they gied him my hand, though my heart was 
 And Auld Robin Gray was gudeman to me. 
 I hadna been a wife a week but only four, 
 When sitting sae mournfully at the door, 
 I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna think it he. 
 Till he said, ' I *m come back for to marry thee.' 
 0, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say ; 
 We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away : 
 
 were dead ! but ] 
 
 [ike to dee ; 
 
 And why do I live to 
 
 
 I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spir 
 I daurna think on Jamie, for that would 
 But I '11 do my best a gude wife to be. 
 For Auld Robin Gray is so kind to me. 
 
^'nttcltou's "Ijvotirfss of ii'olic. 
 
 UXCERTALNTY. 
 
 Pope ! to whose reed, beneath the beechen shade 
 The nymph of Thames a pleased attention paid, 
 While yet thy muse, content with humbler praise, 
 Warbled in Windsor's grove her sylvan lays, 
 Though now, sublimely borne on Homer's wing, 
 Of glorious wars and godlike chiefs she sing. 
 Wilt thou with mo revisit once again 
 The crystal fountain and the flowery plain ? 
 Wilt thou indulgent hear my verse relate 
 The various changes of a lover's state. 
 And while each turn of passion I pursue, 
 Ask thy own heart if what I toll be true 7 
 
 To the green margin of a lonely wood, 
 Whose pendent shades o'erlooked a silver flood, 
 Young Damon came, unknowing where he strayed, 
 Full of the image of the beauteous maid. 
 His flock far off unfed, untended lay. 
 To every savage a defenceless prey ; 
 No sense of interest could their miister move, 
 And every care seemed trifling now but love : 
 A while in pensive silence he remained, [plained ; 
 But, though his voice was mute, his looks oom- 
 At length the thoughts within his bosom pent 
 Forced his unwilling tongue to give them vent. 
 
 • Ye nymphs ! ' he cried, ' ye Dryads ! who so long 
 Have favored Damon, and inspired his song ; 
 For whom, retired, I shun the gay resorts 
 Of sportful cities and of pompous courts ; 
 In vain I bid the restless world adieu. 
 To seek tranquillity and peace with you. 
 Though wild Ambition and destructive Rage 
 No factions hero can form, no wars can wage 
 Though Envy frowns not on your humble shades. 
 Nor Calumny your innocence inva<les. 
 Yet cruel Love, that troublcr of the breast, 
 Too often violates your boasted rest ; 
 With inbred storms disturbs your calm retreat. 
 And taints with bitterness each rural sweet. 
 
 ' Ah, luckless day ! when first with fond surprise 
 On Delia's face I fi.xed my eager eyes ; 
 Then in wild tumults all my soul was tost. 
 Then reason, liberty, at once were lost. 
 And every wish, and thought, and care, was gone. 
 But what my heart employed on her alone. 
 Then too she sniilcil ; can smiles our peace destroy. 
 Those lovely children of Content and Joy 7 
 How can soft pica.'iure and tormenting woo 
 From the same spring at the same moment flow 7 
 Unhappy boy ! these vain inquiries cease. 
 
 Thought could not guard nor will restore thy peace ; 
 
 Indulge the frenzy that thou must endure. 
 
 And soothe the pain thou know'st not how to cure. 
 
 Come, flattering iMemory ! and tell my heart 
 
 How kind she was, and with what pleasing art 
 
 She strove its fondest wishes to obtain, 
 
 Confirm her power, and faster bind my chain. 
 
 If on the green we danced a mirthful band. 
 
 To me alone she gave her willing hand ; 
 
 Her partial taste, if e'er I touched tlie lyre. 
 
 Still in my song found something to admire ; 
 
 By none but her my crook with flowers was crowned, 
 
 By none but her my brows with ivy bound ; 
 
 The world that Damon was her choice believed, 
 
 The world, alas ! like Damon was deceived. ' 
 
 When last I saw her, and declared my fire 
 
 In words as soft as passion could inspire. 
 
 Coldly she heard, and full of scorn withdrew. 
 
 Without one pitjnng glance, one sweet adieu. 
 
 The frighted hind, who sees his ripened com 
 
 Up from the roots by sudden tempest torn, 
 
 Whose fairest hopes destroyed and blasted lie. 
 
 Feels not so keen a pang of grief as I. 
 
 Ah ! how have I deserved, inhuman maid ! 
 
 To have my faithful service thus repaid 7 
 
 Were all the marks of kindness I received 
 
 But dreams of joy that charmed me and deceived 7 
 
 Or did you only nurse my growing love 
 
 That with more pain I might your hatred prove 7 
 
 Sure guilty treachery no place could find 
 
 In such a gentle, such a generous mind ; 
 
 A maid brought up the woods and wilds among, 
 
 Could ne'er have learnt the arts of courts so young : 
 
 No ; let me rather think her anger feigned, 
 
 Still lot mo hope my Delia may be gained ; 
 
 'T was only modesty that seemed disdain, 
 
 And her heart sufibrcd when she gave mo pain. 
 
 Pleased with this fluttering thought, the luve-siok 
 Felt the faint dawning of a doubtful joy. [boy 
 
 Back to his flock most cheerful he returned, 
 When now the setting sun more fiercely burned, 
 Blue vapors rose along the mazy rills, 
 And light's last blushes tinged the distant hills. 
 
 HOPE. 
 ECLOODE II. 
 Hear, Doddington ! the notes that shepherds sing, 
 Like those that warbling hail the genial Spring : 
 Nor Pan nor Phrebus tunes our artless reeds. 
 From Love alone their melody proceeds ; 
 
188 
 
 RURAL POETRY. LYTTELTON. 
 
 From LoTe, Theocritus, on Enna's plains, 
 Learnt the wild sweetness of his Doric strains ; 
 Young Maro, touched by his insjiiring dart, 
 Could charm each ear, and soften every heart ; 
 Me too his power has reached, and bids with thine 
 My rustic pipe in pleasing concert join. 
 
 Damon no longer sought the silent shade. 
 No more in unfrequented paths he strayed. 
 But called the swains to hear his jocund song. 
 And told his joy to all the rural throng. 
 
 ' Blest be the hour,' he said, ' that happy hour. 
 When first I owned my Delia's gentle power ! 
 Then gloomy discontent and pining care 
 Forsook my breast, and left soft wishes there ; 
 Soft wishes there they left and gay desires, 
 Delightful languors and transporting fires. 
 Where yonder limes combine to form a shade. 
 These eyes first gazed upon the charming maid ; 
 There she appeared on that auspicious day 
 When swains their sportive rites to Bacchus pay : 
 She led the dance — Heavens ! with what grace she 
 
 moved ! 
 Who could have seen her then and not have loved ? 
 I strove not to resist so sweet a fiame. 
 But gloried in a happy captive's name ; 
 Nor would I now, could Love permit, be free. 
 But leave to brutes their savage liberty. 
 
 'And art thou, then, fond youth ! secure of joy? 
 Can no reverse thy flattering bliss destroy 1 
 Has treacherous Love no torment yet in store? 
 Or hast thou never proved his fatal power ? 
 Whence flowed those tears tliat late bedewed thy 
 
 cheek ? 
 Why sighed thy heart as if it strove to break ? 
 Why were the desert rocks invoked to hear 
 The plaintive accent of thy sad despair ? 
 From Delia's rigor all those pains arose, 
 Delia ! who now compassionates my woes. 
 Who bids me hope, and in that charming word 
 Has peace and transport to my soul restored. 
 
 ' Begin, my pipe ! begin the gladsome lay ; 
 A kiss from Delia shall thy music pay, 
 A kiss obtained 'twixt struggling and consent. 
 Given with forced anger and disguised content. 
 No laureate wreaths I ask to bind my brows 
 Such as the muse on lofty bards bestows ; 
 Let other swains to praise or fame aspire, 
 I from her lips my recompense require. 
 
 ' Why stays my Delia in her secret bower? 
 Light gales have chased the late impending shower, 
 Th' emerging sun more bright his beams extends. 
 Opposed its beauteous arch the rainbow bends. 
 Glad youths and maidens turn the new-made hay. 
 The birds renew their songs on every spray ; 
 Come forth, my love ! thy shepherd's joys to crown: 
 All nature smiles — will only Delia frown ? 
 
 ' Hark how the bees with murmurs fill the plain, 
 While every flower of every sweet they drain : 
 See how beneath yon hillock's shady steep 
 The sheltered herds on flowery couches sleep : 
 
 Nor bees nor herds are half so blest as I, 
 If with my fond desires my love comply ; 
 From Delia's lips a sweeter honey flows. 
 And on her bosom dVpells more soft repose. 
 
 ' Ah how, my dear ! shall I deserve thy charms ? 
 What gift can bribe thee to my longing arms ? 
 A bird for thee in silken bands I hold. 
 Whose yellow plumage shines like polished gold ; 
 From distant isles the lovely stranger came. 
 And bears the fortunate Canaries' name ; 
 In all our woods none boast so sweet a note, 
 Not e'en the nightingale's melodious throat ; 
 Accept of this, and could I add beside 
 What wealth the rich Peruvian mountains hide. 
 If all the gems in Eastern rocks were mine, 
 On thee alone their glittering pride should shine : 
 But if thy mind no gifts have power to move, 
 Phcebus himself shall leave the .Ionian grove ; 
 The tuneful nine, who never sue in vain. 
 Shall come sweet suppliants for their favorite swain: 
 For him each blue-eyed Naiad of the flood. 
 For him each green-haired sister of the wood. 
 Whom oft beneath fair Cynthia's gentle ray 
 His music calls to dance the night away. 
 And you, fair nymphs ! companions of my love. 
 With whom she joys the cowslip meads to rove, 
 I bog you recommend ray faithful flame, 
 And let her often hear her shepherd's name : 
 Shade all my faults from her inquiring sight, 
 And show my merits in the fairest light ; 
 My pipe your kind assistance shall repay. 
 And every friend shall claim a diiferent lay. 
 
 ' But see ! in yonder glade the heavenly fair 
 Enjoys the fragrance of the breezy air. 
 Ah ! thither let me fly with eager feet : 
 Adieu, my pipe ! I go my love to meet. 
 may I find her as we parted last, 
 And may each future hour be like the past ! 
 So shall the whitest lamb these pastures feed. 
 Propitious Venus ! on thy altars bleed.' 
 
 ECLOGUE III. 
 
 The gods, Walpole ! give no bliss sincere ; 
 Wealth is disturbed by care, and power by fear. 
 Of all the passions that employ the mind. 
 In gentle love the sweetest joys we find : 
 Yet e'en those joys dire Jealousy molests. 
 And blackens each fair image in our breasts. 
 may the warmth of thy too tender heart 
 Ne'er feel the sharpness of his venomed dart ! 
 For thy own quiet think thy mistress just. 
 And wisely take thy happiness on trust. 
 
 Begin, my Muse ! and Damon's woes rehearse 
 In wildest numbers and disordered verse. 
 
 On a romantic mountain's airy head — 
 While browsing goats at ease around him fed — 
 
SUMMER — JUNE. 
 
 189 
 
 Anxious ho lay, with jealous cares opprcst, 
 Distrust and anger laboring in his breast : — 
 The valo beneath a pleasing prospect yields 
 Of verdant meads and cultivated fields ; 
 Through these a river rolls its winding flood, 
 Adorned with various tufts of rising wood ; 
 Hero half concealed in trees a cottage stands, 
 A castle there the opening plain commands ; 
 Beyond, a town with glittering spires is crowned, 
 And distant hills the wide horizon bound. 
 So charming was the scene, a while the swain 
 Behold delighted, and forgot his pain ; 
 But soon the stings infixed within his heart 
 With cruel force renewed their raging smart : 
 Ills flowery wreath, which long with pride ho wore, 
 The gift of Delia, from his brows he tore, 
 Then cried : ' May all thy charms, ungrateful maid ! 
 Liko these neglected roses droop and fade ! 
 May angry Heaven deform each guilty grace 
 That triumphs now in that deluding face ! 
 Those altered looks may every shepherd fly, 
 And oi-'n thy Daphnis hate thee worse than I ! 
 
 ' Say, thou inconstant ! what has Damon douo 
 To lose the heart his tedious pains had won? 
 Toll me what charms you in my rival find, 
 Against whose power no ties have strength to bind / 
 Has he, like me, with long obedience strove 
 To conquer your disdain, and merit love ? 
 Has he with transport every smile adored, 
 And died with grief at each ungentle word ? 
 Ah, no ! the conquest was obtained with case ; 
 He pleased you by not studying to please j 
 His careless indolence your pride alarmed. 
 And had ho loved you more, ho less had charmed. 
 
 ' pain to think another shall possess 
 Those balmy lips which I was wont to press ! 
 Another on her panting breast shall lie, 
 And catch sweet madness from her swinmiing eye ! 
 I saw their friendly flocks tugotlier feed, 
 I saw them hand in hand walk o'er the mead ; 
 Would my closed eye had stnik in endless night 
 Ero I was doomed to bear that hateful sight ! 
 Where'er they passed be blasted every flower, 
 And hungry wolves their helpless flooks devour ! — 
 Ah, wretched swain ! could no examples move 
 Thy heedless heart to shun tho rage of love ? 
 Hast thou not heard how poor Menalcas * died 
 A victim to Parthenia's fatal pride ? 
 Dear was the youth to all the tuneful plain, 
 Loved by the nymphs, by Phoibus loved, in vain ; 
 Around his tomb their tears tho Muses paid, 
 And all things mourned but tho relentless maid. 
 Would I could die like him, and bo at peace ; 
 These torments in the quiet grave would oease ; 
 There my vexed thoughts a oalm repose would fiud. 
 And rest as if my Delia still were kind. 
 No ; let mo live her falsehood to upbraid ; 
 Some god perhaps my just revenge will aid. — 
 
 1 See Mr. Oay'a ' Dione.' 
 
 Alas ! what aid, fond swain ! would thou receive? 
 Could thy heart bear to see its Delia grieve ? 
 Protect her. Heaven ! and let lior never know 
 Tho slightest part of hapless Damon's woo : 
 I ask no vengeance from the powers above. 
 All I implore is never more to love. — 
 Let mo this fondness from my bosom tear. 
 Let mo forget that e'er I thought her fair. 
 Come, cool ludiflerenco ! and heal my breast ; 
 Wearied, at length I seek thy downy rest : 
 No turbulence of passion shall destroy 
 My future easo with flattering hopes of joy. 
 Hear, mighty Pan ! and all ye Sylvans ! hear 
 What by your guardian deities I swear ; 
 No more my eyes shall view her fatal charms. 
 No more I '11 court the traitress to my arms ; 
 Not all her arts my steady soul shall move, 
 And she shall fiud that Reason conquers Love ! ' 
 
 Scarce had ho spoke when through the lawn below 
 Alone he saw the beauteous Delia go ; 
 At i'lir.. tr:iii-|ini I'll In- forgot his vow — 
 
 Sufli |irii - rli. liiii-hing gods allow ! — 
 
 Down iIm t..|.liill uiih ardent haste he flew : 
 Ho found li'ji- kiu.l, .iud soon believed her true. 
 
 POSSESSION. 
 ECLOGUE IV. 
 
 Cobham ! to thee this rural lay I bring, 
 Whose guiding judgment gives me skill to sing. 
 Though far unequal to those polished strains 
 With which thy Congrevo charmed tho list'ning 
 
 Yet shall its music please thy partial ear, [dear, 
 And soothe thy breast with thoughts that once were 
 Recall those years which Time has thrown behind, 
 When smiling Love with Honor shared thy mind. * * 
 The sweet remembrance shall thy youth restore. 
 Fancy again shall run past pleasures o'er. 
 And while in Stowe's enchanting walks you stray. 
 This theme may help to cheat the Summer's day. 
 
 Beneath the eovert of a myrtle wood. 
 To Venus raised, a rustic altar stood — 
 .To Venus and to Hymen, thero combined 
 In friendly league to favor human kind. 
 With wanton Cupids in that happy shade 
 The gentle Virtues and mild Wisdom played ; 
 Nor there, in sprightly Pleasure's genial train, 
 Lurked sick Disgust or late<ropenting Pain, 
 Nor force nor Interest joined unwilling hands, 
 But Love consenting tied tho blissful bands. 
 Thither with glad devotion Damon came. 
 To thank the powers who blest his faithful flame ; 
 Two milk-white doves he on their altar laid, 
 And thus to both his grateful homage paid : 
 ' Hail, bounteous God ! boforo whoso hallow'd shrine 
 My Delia vowed to bo forever mine. 
 While, glowing in her ohooka, with tondor love 
 Sweet virgin modesty reluctant strove ; 
 
190 
 
 RUKAL PORTRT. 
 
 And hail to thee, fair queen of young desires ! 
 Long shall my heart preserve thy pleasing fires, 
 Since Delia now can all its warmth return.i 
 
 ' What are ye now, my once most valued joys ? 
 Insipid trifles all, and childish toys. — 
 Friendship itself ne'er knew a charm like this. 
 Nor Colin's talk could please like Delia's kiss. 
 
 ' Ye Muses, skilled in every winning art. 
 Teach me more deeply to engage her heart : 
 Ye Nymphs ! to her your freshest roses bring, 
 And crown her with the pride of all the spring 
 On all her days let health and peace attend ; 
 May she ne'er want nor ever lose a friend ! 
 May some new pleasure every hour employ, 
 But lot her Damon be her highest joy ! 
 
 ' With thee, my love ! forever will I stay. 
 All night caress thee, and admire all day ; 
 
 1 Thirteen lines are here omitted, as being too warn, 
 modern taste— in print; also two lines m the addres 
 Cobham, to the previous column, tor the same reason. ■ 
 
 To the same spring 
 Together will we si 
 
 Tngvtlirr |,n.-- il,.' 
 
 ngled flocks we '11 feed, 
 
 Love combin 
 
 To 1m. I 
 Here 1: 
 Here rising 
 
 I n I 1 1 uiigh flowery meads, 
 It their verdant heads, 
 Here let me wear my careless life away, 
 And in thy arms insensibly decay. 
 
 ' When late old age our heads shall silver o'er. 
 And our slow pulses dance with joy no more. 
 When Time no longer will thy beauties sppre. 
 And only Damon's eye shall think thee fair, 
 Then may the gentle hand of welcome death 
 At one soft stroke deprive us both of breath ! 
 May we beneath one common stone be laid, 
 And the same .vinx^s lK,th ..ur ashes shade ! 
 Perhaps some m.^i.^llv M»- in tender verse 
 Shall deign .u.i l;ntl,inl ],:,^-,..n to rehearse. 
 And future agf.~, uilli ju-t '-iny moved, 
 Be told how Damon and his Delia loved.' 
 
|)Scilms of l^xiiist Ux lUiiic. 
 
 POPE'S "MESSIAH." 
 
 As the good sheplKT.l tcod,^ his flocoy care. 
 
 
 Seeks frc-lir-i |,, im. , ;iii,| il,,- | -l ;nr, 
 
 A SACRED ECI/OOUE. 
 
 Explores tli, ' ■ ' ■ , !, :,_ ' , i, ,lir<-cts, 
 
 
 By day o'.'i-,, ■ ■ ; - - u i ; i,,i.,L-ts; 
 The tendcT I:m,,1,. !,, ,,,i , m l,i- ,,ii i., 
 Feeds from his hand, and iu his bosom warms : 
 Thus shall mankind His guardian caro engage, 
 
 To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong. 
 The mossy fountains and the sylvan shades, 
 The dreams of Pindus and the Aonian maids, 
 
 Delight no more. — Thou my voice inspire. 
 
 The promised Father of the future ago. 
 
 X.I iiiniv ,-hall oaiio,, !,„-;, i„-t nation rise, 
 
 N.iranlrnl »an„.i- ni., t « ,tl, hateful eyeS, 
 
 Who touched Isaiah's hallowed lips with firo ! 
 
 Rapt into future times, the bard begun : 
 
 .\.,r li. 1,1- u,il, ,l,,;,,„,„u' -1...I l.e covered o'er. 
 
 A virgin -Irill f,.„,.,.iv^. a virgin bear a Son ! 
 
 Till-, Ijiii/.iH lrum|jLl- kaiill'-- lage no more ; 
 
 From.l. .-. ,-.. t lnl„.ia a branch arise, 
 
 But useless lances into scythes shall bend. 
 
 Whns.- .,. r, i 11,,,.,, , ,v,ll, fragrance fills the skies : 
 
 And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end. 
 
 The fill, r, .il >|,int 11. r il? leaves shall move, 
 
 Then piihiccs shall rise ; the joyful son 
 
 And on its tup clusceiul.^ the mystic dove. 
 
 Shall liiii.h uliat hi. .h,,ii-l,,,,| Ml, l,.,i.-im; 
 
 Ye heavens ! from high the dewy nectar pour, 
 
 Th.a, MM,,. ., .|,,„|,,u .,, |,,, , , , , , , II yield, 
 
 And in soft silence shed the kindly shower ! 
 
 .Anil 111,' ■ Iian.l 1!,,,, „. 1 . ,,,! :,,||, the field. 
 
 The sick and weak the healing plant shall aid. 
 
 Til., Miaiii 111 l.anvii .1, III, »ill..:.ii|, ii.su, 
 
 From storni,< a shelter, and from heat a shade. 
 
 
 1 All erinu-s shall cease, and ancient fraud shall fail, 
 
 Ami -i.iit-, aMii,|-i ihr tliii-iy ivilds, to hear 
 
 Returning justice lift aloft her scale ; 
 
 New tails ..1 «at.r iiiuniiH.iii;; in his oar. 
 
 Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend. 
 
 On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes. 
 
 And white-robed innocence from heaven descend. 
 
 The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods. 
 
 Swift fly the years, and rise the expected morn ! 
 
 Waste sandy valleys, once perplexed with thorn, 
 
 spriii? tn li -lit, :iii--,,i,.i.,us Babe, be born ! 
 
 The spiry fir and shapely box adorn ; 
 
 Seciii.ii, • 1 ,iili..st wreaths to bring, 
 
 
 With I.I 1 ; th,. breathing spring: 
 
 And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed. 
 
 Seelult, I,, 1, „ In- lirMd advance. 
 
 The Iambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead, 
 
 See nodding fnrists ,m the mountains dance ; 
 
 And boys in Hourly l.aii.l- iIr, ti^.T l.a.l ; 
 
 See spicy clouds from lowly Sharon rise. 
 
 The steer ami li.,n at .m., ml, -hall uir.t. 
 
 And Carmel's flowery top perfumes the skies ! 
 
 And harmk-s,^ -, i|,. ni- li.'k il.,, i,.l,'i i.n'.s feet. ' 
 
 Hark ! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers ; 
 
 The smiling inlUut in hi., imnd ^Imll take | 
 
 Prepare the way ! a God, a God appears ! 
 
 The crested basilisk and speckled snake. 
 
 A God, a God ! the vocal hills reply : 
 
 Pleased the green lustre of their scales survey, 
 
 The rocks proclaim the approaching Deity. 
 
 And with their forky tongues shall innocently play. 
 
 Lo, earth receives Him from the bending skies ! 
 
 Rise, crowned with light, imperial Salem, rise ! j 
 
 Sink down, ye mountains, and, yo valleys, rise ! 
 
 Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes ! 
 
 With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay ; 
 
 See a long race thy spacious courts adorn ; | 
 
 Be smooth, ye rocks ; ye rapid floods, give way ! 
 
 See future sons and daughters, yet unborn. 
 
 The Saviour comes ! by ancient bards foretold ; 
 
 In crowding ranks on every side arise, 
 
 Hear him, ye deaf ! and all yo blind, behold ! 
 
 Demanding life, impatient for the skies ! 
 
 He from thick films shall purge the visual ray. 
 
 See barbarous nations at thy gates attend, 
 
 And on the sightless eye-ball pour the day : 
 
 Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend ; 
 
 'Tis He the obstructed paths of sound shall clear. 
 
 See thy bright altars thronged with prostrate kings. 
 
 And bid new music charm the unfolding ear ; 
 
 And heaped with products of Sabtean springs ! 
 
 The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego. 
 
 For thee Idumo's spicy forests blow. 
 
 And leap exulting like the bounding roe. 
 
 And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow. 
 
 No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear ; 
 
 See heaven its sparkling portivls wide display, 
 
 From every face He wipes off every tear. 
 
 And break upon thee in a flood of day. 
 
 In adamantine chains shall death be bound. 
 
 No more the rising sun shall gild the morn, 
 
 And hell's grim tyrant fool the eternal wound. 
 
 Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn ; 
 
192 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 But, lost, dissolved in thy superior rays, 
 One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze, 
 O'erflow thy courts : the Light himself shall shine 
 Revealed, and God's eternal day be thine ! 
 The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay, 
 Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away ; 
 But fixed his Word, his saving power remains : 
 Thy realm forever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns ! 
 
 QUAELES-S "DELIGHT IN GOD." 
 
 I LOVE, and have some cause to love, the earth ; 
 
 She is my Maker's creature, therefore good. 
 She is my mother, for she gave me birth. 
 
 She is my tender nurse ; she gives me food. 
 
 But what 's a creature. Lord, compared with Thee ? 
 
 Or what 's my mother, or my nurse, to me ? 
 
 I love the air ; her dainty sweets refresh 
 
 My drooping soul, and to new sweets invite me ; 
 
 Her shrill-mouthed choir sustain me with their flesh. 
 And with their polyphouiau notes delight me. 
 But what's the air, or all the sweets that she 
 Can bless my soul withal, compared to Thee ? 
 
 I love the sea ; she is my fellow-creature — 
 My careful purveyor ; she provides me store ; 
 
 She walls me round ; she makes my diet greater ; 
 She wafts my treasure from a foreign shore. 
 But, Lord of oceans, when compared with Thee, 
 What is the ocean, or her wealth, to me ? 
 
 To heaven's high city I direct my journey. 
 
 Whose spangled suburbs entertain my eye ; 
 Mine eye, by contemplation, great attorney ! 
 
 Transcends the crystal pavement of the sky. 
 
 But what is heaven, great God, compared to Thee ? 
 
 Without thy presence, heaven's no heaven to me. 
 
 Without thy presence, earth gives no refection ; 
 
 Without thy presence, sea aflfords no treasure ; 
 Without thy presence, air's a rank infection ; 
 
 Without thy presence, heaven itself 's no pleasure; 
 
 If not possessed, if not enjoyed in Thee, 
 
 What's earth, or sea, or air, or heaven, to me ? 
 
 The highest honors that the world can boast 
 Are subjects far too low for my desire ; 
 
 The brightest beams of glory are, at most, 
 But dying sparkles of thy living fire. 
 The proudest flames that earth can kindle be 
 But nightly glow-worms if compared to Thee. 
 
 Without thy presence, wealth is bags of cares ; 
 
 Wisdom, but folly ; joy, disquiet — sadness ; 
 Friendship is treason, and delights are snares ; 
 
 Pleasure 's but pain, and mirth but pleasing mad- 
 ness. 
 
 Without Thee, Lord, things be not what they be, 
 
 Nor have they being, -when compared with Thee. 
 
 In having all things and not Thee, what have I ? 
 
 Not having Thee, what have my labors got? 
 Let me enjoy but Thee, what further crave I ? 
 
 And having Thee alone, what have I not ? 
 
 I wish nor sea, nor land, nor would I be 
 
 Possessed of heaven, heaven unpossessed of Thee ! 
 
 HERRICK'S "THANKSGIVING." 
 Lord, thou hast given me a cell , 
 
 Wherein to dwell ; 
 A little house whose humble roof 
 
 Is weather-proof ; 
 Under the spars of which I lie 
 
 Both soft and dry. 
 Where Thou, my chamber for to ward. 
 
 Hast set a guard 
 Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep 
 
 Me while I sleep. 
 Low is my porch as is my fate, 
 
 Both void of state ; 
 And yet the threshold of my door 
 
 Is worn by the poor, 
 Who hither come, and freely get 
 
 Good words or meat. 
 Like .as my parlor, so my hall. 
 
 And kitchen small ; 
 A little buttery, and therein 
 
 A little bin. 
 Which keeps my little loaf of bread, 
 
 Unehipped, unflead. 
 Some brittle sticks of thorn or brier 
 
 Make me a fire. 
 Close by whose living coal I sit. 
 
 And glow like it. 
 Lord, I confess, too, when I dine. 
 
 The pulse is thine. 
 And all those other bits that be 
 
 There placed by Thee ; 
 The worts, the purslane, and the mess 
 
 Of water-cress. 
 Which of thy kindness Thou hast sent ; 
 
 And my content 
 Makes these and my beloved beet 
 
 To be more sweet. 
 'Tis Thou that crown'st my glittering hearth 
 
 With guiltless mirth. 
 And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink, 
 
 Spiced to the brink. 
 Lord, 'tis thy plenty-dropping hand 
 
 That sows my land. 
 All this and better dost Thou send 
 
 Me for this end — 
 That I should render for my part 
 
 A thankful heart. 
 Which, fired with incense, I resign 
 
 As wholly thine ; 
 But the acceptance, that must be, 
 
 Lord, of Thee ! 
 

 'm:^. 
 
 SUMMER— JULY 
 
 glooiuficlb's "farmer's ^U^ 
 
 Irfssons from H)e fiiritier's life. Turnip-sovrinsr. Harrowing. 
 Showers. Wheat ri|ieninR. Sparrows. Giles's re - 
 Insects. The sky-lark. The farmer surveyinR his rj 
 ing harvest. Keapinj; i plcaninit. The harvest-«elil 
 
 itsf 
 
 Theil 
 
 Labors of the barn in harvestinc. Flies j cruelty of dock, 
 ing. The insolent gander. Niflit s a thunder-storm. 
 Harvest-home festival. Uefleclions on the separat 
 the employer and employed, lleflnement checks s: 
 thy and freedom. Lament of ihe laborer ; his clali 
 
 PBOTIDEST 
 
 NECBSSJBT 
 
 AKD ITSCAL WITH 
 
 TnE Farmer's life displays in every port 
 A moral lesson to the scnstittl heart. 
 Though in the lap of plenty, thoughtful still, 
 He looks beyond the present good or ill ; 
 Nor estimates alone one blessing's worth, 
 From changeful seasons, or capricious earth ; 
 But views tho future with the present hours, 
 And looks for failures as ho looks for showers ; 
 For casual a."! for certain want prepares. 
 And round hia yard tho reeking hay-stack rears ; 
 Or clover, blossomed lovely to the sight, 
 His team's rich store through many a wintry night. 
 
 25 
 
 What though obundance round his dwelling 
 spreads. 
 Though ever moist his self-improving meads 
 Supply his dairy with a copious flood. 
 And seem to promise unexhausted food ; 
 That promise fails, when buried deep in snow, 
 And vegetative juices cease to flow. 
 For this, his plough turns up the destined lands, 
 Whence stormy AVinter draws its full demands ; 
 For this, the seed minutely small ho sows. 
 Whence, sound and sweet, tho hardy turnip grows. 
 
 D, iT 
 
 CI.OnS, COMPiRKD 
 
 But how unlike to April's closing days ! 
 High climbs the sun, and darts his powerful rays ; 
 Whitens the fresh-drawn mould, and pierces through 
 The cumbrous clods that tumble round the plough. 
 O'er heaven's bright azure, hence, with joyful eyes, 
 The farmer sees dark clouds assembling rise ; 
 Borne o'er his fields a heavy torrent falls, 
 And strikes the earth in hasty driving squalls. 
 
194 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 ' Right welcome down, ye precious drops ! ' he cries; 
 But soon, too soon, the partial blessing flies. 
 ' Boy, bring thy harrows, try how deep the ram 
 Has forced its way ! ' He comes, but comes in vain ; 
 Dry dust beneath the bubbling surface lurks, 
 And mocks his pains the more, the more he works : 
 Still midst huge clods he plunges on forlorn. 
 That laugh his harrows and tlic ehower to scorn. 
 E'en thus the living clod, the stub"born fool, 
 Resists the stormy lectures of the school. 
 Till tried with gentler means, the dunce to please, 
 His head imbibes right reason by degrees ; 
 As when from eve till morning's wakeful hour 
 Light constant rain evinces secret power, 
 And ere the day resume its wonted smiles, 
 Presents a cheerful, easy task for Giles. 
 Down w^th a touch the mellowed soil is laid, 
 And yon tall crop next claims his timely aid ; 
 Thither well pleased he hies, assured to find 
 Wild, trackless haunts, and objects to his mind. 
 
 THE GBOWISG GBAIN IN EAR } SPARROWS ', NATURE, SOLI- 
 
 Shot up from broad rank blades that droop below, 
 The nodding wheat-car forms a graceful bow, 
 With milky kernels starting full, weighed down, 
 Ere yet the sun hath tinged its head with brown ; 
 Whilst thousands in a flock, forever gay. 
 Loud chirping sparrows welcome on the day, 
 And from the mazes of the leafy thorn 
 Drop one by one upon the bending corn. 
 Giles with a p"U- ;i";iil- Hi. ir .1...,, retreats. 
 And round the gva.-.L-m,,,,, .l-uv border beats ; 
 On either side compbtily c.\.i -[iic-ad, 
 Here branches bend, thuiL- com oVrtops his head. 
 Green covert, hail ! for through the varying year 
 No hours so sweet, no scene to him so dear. 
 Here Wisdom's placid eye delighted sees 
 His frequent intervals of lonely ease. 
 And with one ray his infant soul inspires. 
 Just kindling there her never-dying fires. 
 Whence solitude derives peculiar charms. 
 And heaven-directed thought his bosom warms. 
 
 GILES REPOSING ; SOMMEE INSECT LIFE ; HABITS OF THE 
 BEETLE, MOTH, GRASSHOPPER. 
 
 Just where the parting bough's light shadows play. 
 Scarce in the shade, nor in the scorching day, 
 Stretched on the turf he lies, a peopled bed. 
 Where swarming insects creep around his head ! 
 The small dust-colored beetle climbs with pain 
 O'er the smooth plantain-leaf, a spacious plain ! 
 Thence higher still, by countless steps conveyed. 
 He gains the summit of a shivering blade, 
 And flirts his filmy wings, and looks around, 
 Exulting in his distance from the ground. 
 The toHdn-ii.. 1.1-1 iii"il' li.i- .lancing seen. 
 The vaultiM- .1 . ■:..,' -y green. 
 
 Their liUlr In. ■. l.., i;ui..ii- i.n.Ts sustain. 
 
 But what can unassisted vision do? 
 
 What, but recoil where most it would pursue ; 
 
 His patient gaze but finish with a sigh, 
 When music waking speaks the skylark nigh ! 
 
 AND PfeACBFCL SLUMBERS. 
 
 Just Starting from the corn she cheerly sings, 
 And trusts with conscious pride her downy wings ; 
 Ptill louder breathes, and in the face of day 
 Mounts up, and calls on Giles to mark her way. 
 Close to his eyes his hat he instant bends. 
 And forms a friendly telescope, that lends 
 Just aid enough to dull the glaring light. 
 And place the wandering bird before his sight ; 
 Yet oft beneath a cloud she sweeps along, 
 Lost for a while, yet pours her varied song : 
 He views the spot, and as the cloud moves by, 
 Again she stretches up the clear blue sky ; 
 Her form, her motion, undistinguished quite. 
 Save when she wheels direct from shade to light : 
 The fluttering songstress a mere speck became, 
 Like fancy's floating bubbles in a dream ; 
 He sees her yet, but, yielding to repose, 
 Unwittingly his jaded eyelids close. 
 Delicious sleep ! From sleep who could forbear, 
 With no more guilt than Giles, an^ no more care? 
 Peace o'er his slumbers waves her guardian wing, 
 Nor conscience once disturbs him with a sting ; 
 He wakes refreshed from every trivial pain. 
 And takes his pole and brushes round again. 
 
 THE RIPENED CROP. — SUNDAY MORNING SUBVET BY THE 
 FARMER ; mS GRATITUDE TO GOD. 
 
 Its dark-green hue, its sicklier tints, all fail. 
 And ripening harvest rustles in the gale. 
 A glorious sight, if glory dwells below, 
 Where HeuvinV iiiunili.. n.-..- makes all the show, 
 
 O'er everv li'M 1 .-..l.l.'n prospect found, 
 
 That glad- il). pLu-lnnair- Sunday morning'sround, 
 When on s.jiii.- . inim ii.v la- takes his stand, 
 To judge the smiling produce of the land. 
 Here Vanity slinks back, her head to hide : 
 What is there here to flatter human pride ? 
 The towering fabric, or the dome's loud roar, 
 And steadfast columns, may astonish more, 
 Where the charmed gazer long delighted stays, 
 Yet traced but to the architect the praise : 
 Whilst here, the veriest clown that treads the sod, 
 Without one scruple, gives the praise to God, 
 And two-fold joys possess his raptured mind, 
 From gratitude and admiration joined. 
 
 REAPERS AND GLEANERS. — COTTAGERS. 
 
 Here, midst the boldest triumphs of her worth. 
 Nature herself invites the reapers forth ; 
 Dares the keen sickle from its twelvemonth's rest. 
 And gives that ardor which in every breast 
 From infancy to age alike appears. 
 When the first sheaf its plumy top uprears. 
 No rake takes here what Heaven to all bestows — 
 Children of want, for you the bounty flows ! 
 And every cottage, from the plenteous store, 
 Receives a burden nightly at its door. 
 
BUMMER — JULY. 
 
 195 
 
 TUB RBAPIXO i nULTU ; JOLUTT i TUBS OUT 0? ALL HANDS. 
 
 Hark ! where the swooping scythe row rips aloDg; 
 Each sturdy mower emulous and strong ; 
 AVhudo writhing form meridian heat defies, 
 Bonds o'er his worlc, and every sinew tries ; 
 Prostrates tho waving treasure at his feet, 
 But spares tho rising clover, short and sweet. 
 Como, ilcalth ! come, Jollity ! light-footed, come ; 
 Hero hold your revels, and make this your home. 
 Each heart awaits and hails you as its own ; 
 Each moistened brow, that scorns to wear a frown : 
 Tho unpeopled dwelling mourns ita tenants strayed; 
 E'en the domestic, laughing dairy-maid 
 Hies to tho field, the general toil to share. 
 
 THE FARXEH^S GLAD SUPEilVISU 
 
 LOVE AND DEACTT. 
 
 Meanwhile tho farmer quits his elbow-chair. 
 His cool brick-floor, his pitcher, and his case. 
 
 And braves the sultry bciitn-', :inil i;l;i'IIy sees 
 His gates thrown open, :itu1 lii- i. mu alu^iul, 
 The ready group attunduiil mh 1m- w iI, 
 To turn tho swarth, the tjuiM lini,' lua.l tn roar, 
 Or ply the busy rake, the land to clear. 
 Summer's light garb itself now cumbrous grown, 
 Each his thin doublet in tho shade throws down ; 
 Whore oft the mastiff skulks with half-shut eye, 
 And rouses at tho stranger passing by ; 
 Whilst unrestramed the social converse flows. 
 And every breast Love's powerful Impulse knows. 
 And rival wits, with more than rustic grace. 
 Confess the presence of a pretty face. 
 
 For, lo ! encircled there, the lovely maid. 
 In youth's own bloom and native smiles arrayed, 
 Her hat awry, divested of her gown. 
 Her creaking stays of leather, stout and brown ; 
 Invidious barrier ! why art thou so high, 
 When the slight covering of her nock slips by? 
 There half revealing to the eager sight 
 Her full, ripe bosom, exquisitely white ! 
 In many a local tale of harmless mirth, 
 And many a jest of momentary birth. 
 She bears a part, and as she stops to speak, 
 Strokes back the ringlets from her glowing check. 
 
 RBFRESDMBNTS IN THE HARVEST-FTEL 
 
 Now noon gone by, and four declining hours, 
 Tho weary limbs relax their boasted powers ; 
 Thirst rages strong, tho fainting spirits fail, 
 And ask tho sovereign cordial, homo-browed ale : 
 Beneath sonio sheltering heap of yellow corn 
 Rest tho hooped keg, and friendly, cooling horn. 
 That mocks alike the goblet's brittle frame. 
 Its costlier potions, and its nobler name. 
 To Mary first tho brimming draught is given. 
 By toil made welcome as the dews of heaven. 
 And never lip that pressed its homely edge 
 Has kinder blessings or a heartier pledge. 
 
 HARVEST EOTLOTMESTS OF GILES i TREADIM DOWN Tn« MOV 
 
 Of wholesome viands hero a banquet smiles, 
 A common oheor for all ; — e'en humble Giles, 
 Who joys his trivial services to yield 
 Amidst tho fragrance of tho open field ; 
 Oft doomed, in suffocating heat, to bear 
 Tho cobwcbed barn's impure and dusty air ; 
 To ride in murky state the panting steed. 
 Destined aloft tho unloaded grain to tread, 
 Where, in his path as heaps on heaps are thrown, 
 Ho rears, and plunges tho loose mountain down : 
 Laborious task ! with what delight when done 
 Both horse and rider greet tho unclouded son ! 
 
 BALL, THE CART-noBSB } FLIES ; TRCELTY OF DOCKING. - 
 BWES AND COWS TOUMBNTBD. 
 
 Yet by the unclouded sun arc hourly bred 
 The bold assailants that surround thine head, 
 Poor patient Ball ! and, with insulting wing, 
 Roar in thine ears, and dart tho piercing sting ; 
 In thy behalf tho crest-waved boughs avail 
 More than thy short-clipt remnant of a tail, 
 A moving mockery, a useless name, 
 A living proof of cruelty and shame, — 
 Shame to the man, whatever fame he bore. 
 Who took from theo what man can ne'er restore. 
 Thy weapon of defonoe, thy chiefcst goml. 
 When swarming flies contending suck thy blood. 
 Nor thine alone the suffering, thine the caro. 
 The fretful ewe bemoans .an e.iual .-^liiire : 
 
 Ort 
 
 Unruly co\v- wiili iti:iikr.l iiii[':ii iMur -t;iy. 
 And, vainly striving to escape their fue.-i. 
 The pail kick down ; a piteous current flows. 
 
 1-t II. I riinii^li tluit plagues like these molest? 
 ,\Iii-t -lill aii.it h.r r,ie annoy their rest? 
 He comes, the pest and terror of tho yard. 
 His full-fledged progeny's imperious guard ; 
 The gander ; — spiteful, insolent, and bold, 
 At the colt's footlock takes his daring hold. 
 There, serpent-like, escapes a dreadful blow ; 
 And straight attacks a poor defenceless cow : 
 EiK-h booby goose tho unworthy strife enjoys, 
 ,\nd hails his prowess with redoubled noise. 
 Then back ho stalks, of self-importance full. 
 Seizes tho shaggy foretop of the bull. 
 Till whirled aloft he falls ; a timely check, 
 En<iugh to dislocate his worthless neck ; 
 For, lo ! of old, ho boasts an honored wound ; 
 Behold that broken wing that trails the ground ! 
 Thus fools and bravoes kindred pranks pursue ; 
 As savage quite, and oft as fatal too. 
 Happy the man that foils an envious elf, 
 Using the darts of spleen to serve himself. 
 As when by turns the strolling swine engago 
 Tho utmost efforts of the bully's rage, 
 
196 
 
 RURAL POETRY. BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 Whose nibbling warfare on the grunter's side 
 Is welcome pleasure to his bristly hide ; 
 Gently he stoops, or, stretched at ease along, 
 Enjoys the insults of the gabbling throng, 
 That march exulting round his fallen head, 
 As human victors trample on their dead. 
 
 , THE WESTERN SUMMER CLOUD AT E7KNING. 
 
 Still Twilight, welcome ! Rest, how sweet art thou! 
 Now eve o'erhangs the western cloud's thick brow : 
 The far-stretched curtain of retiring light. 
 With fiery treasures fraught ; that on the sight 
 Flash from its bulging sides, where darkness lowers. 
 In fancy's eye, a chain of mouldering towers ; 
 Or craggy coasts just rising into view. 
 Midst javelins dire, and darts of streaming blue. 
 
 THE SCMMER MmNIGHT TEMPEST ; DRBiD ; THE ELM ; THE 
 HODSE-DOG. 
 
 Anon tired laborers bless their sheltering home, 
 AThen midnight and the frightful tempest come. 
 The farmer wakes, and sees with silent dread 
 The angry shafts of heaven gleam round his bed ; 
 The bursting cloud reiterated roars, 
 Shakes his straw roof, and jars his bolted doors : 
 The slow-winged storm along the troubled skies 
 Spreads its dark course ; the wind begins to rise ; 
 And full-leafed elms, his dwelling's shade by day, 
 With mimic thunder give its fury way : 
 Sounds in his chimney-top a doleful peal, 
 Midst pouring rain, or gusts of rattling hail ; 
 With ten-fold danger, low the tempest bends. 
 And quick and strong the sulph'rous flame descends ; 
 The frightened mastiff from his kennel flies. 
 And cringes at the door with piteous cries. — 
 
 WHOLESOME AWE INSPIRED BY A TEMPEST. 
 
 Where now 's the trifler ? where the child of pride ? 
 These are the moments when the heart is tried ! 
 Nor lives the man with conscience e'er so clear. 
 But feels a solemn, reverential fear ; 
 Feels too a joy relieve his aching breast. 
 When the spent storm hath howled itself to rest. 
 Still, welcome beats the long-continued shower. 
 And sleep protracted comes with double power ; 
 Calm dreams of bliss bring on the morning sun, 
 For every barn is filled, and Harvest done. 
 
 THE HARVEST HOME ; TRIDMPH AND GRATITUDE. 
 
 Now, ere sweet Summer bids its long adieu. 
 And winds blow keen where late the blossom grew. 
 The bustling day and jovial night must come. 
 The long-accustomed feast of Harvest-home. 
 No blood-stained victory, in story bright, 
 Can give the philosophic mind delight ;. 
 No triumph please while rage and death destroy : 
 Reflection sickens at the monstrous joy. 
 And where the joy, if rightly understood. 
 Like cheerful praise for universal good ? 
 The soul nor check nor doubtful anguish knows, 
 But free and pure the grateful current flows. 
 
 Behold the sound oak table's massy frame 
 Besti-ide the kitchen floor ! the careful dame 
 And generous host invite their friends around. 
 While all that cleared the crop, or tilled the ground. 
 Are guests by right of custom : — old and young, 
 And many a neighboring yeoman, join the throng, 
 With artisans that lent their dext'rous aid. 
 When o'er each field the flaming sunbeams played. 
 
 Yet Plenty reigns, and from her boundless hoard, 
 Though not one jelly trembles on the board. 
 Supplies the feast with all that sense can crave ; 
 With all that made our great forefathers brave. 
 Ere the cloyed palate countless flavors tried. 
 And cooks had Nature's judgment set aside. 
 With thanks to Heaven, and tales of rustic lore. 
 The mansion echoes when the banquet 's o'er ; 
 A wider circle spreads, and smiles abound, 
 As quick the frothing horn performs its round ; 
 Care's mortal foe ; that sprightly joys imparts 
 To cheer the frame and elevate their hearts. 
 Here, fresh and brown, the hazel's produce lies 
 In tempting heaps, and peals of laughter rise, 
 And crackling music, with the frequent song. 
 Unheeded bear the midnight hour along. 
 
 Here, once a year. Distinction lowers its crest. 
 The master, servant, and the merry guest. 
 Are equal all ; and round the happy ring 
 The reaper's eyes exulting glances fling ; 
 And, warmed with gratitude, he quits his place. 
 With sunburnt hands and ale-enlivened face. 
 Refills the jug his honored host to tend. 
 To serve at once the master and the friend ; 
 Proud thus to meet his smiles, to share his tale. 
 His nuts, his conversation, and his ale. 
 
 THE GROWING INEQUALITY ( 
 
 Such were the days, — of days long past 
 When Pride gave place to Mirth without a 
 Ere tyrant ni-l-in- ^Inn^tli :iiffieient bore 
 To violate llh '.. 'ill . I :i |"i"v; 
 
 To leave tin III i maddening i 
 
 Where'er Ktlln. im m In l^- n- hated face : 
 Nor causeless hatred ; — 't is the peasant's c 
 That hourly makes his wretched station woi 
 Destroys life's intercourse ; the social plan 
 That rank to rank cements, as man to man 
 Wealth flows around him, fashion lordly re 
 Yet poverty is his, and mental pains ! 
 
 L sing. 
 
 Methinks I hear the mourner thus impart 
 The stifled murmurs of his wounded heart : [cold? 
 ■ Whence comes this change, ungracious, irksome. 
 Whence the new grandeur that mine eyes behold ? 
 
SUMMEK — JULY. 
 
 197 
 
 The Tvidoning diatanoo vbioh I dnily soo? 
 
 Ilaa Wealth done this ?— then Wealth 's a foe to mo ; 
 
 Foe to our rfghts ; that leaves a powerful few 
 
 Tho paths of emulation to pursue : — 
 
 For emulation stoops to us no more : 
 
 The hope of humble industry is o'er ; 
 
 Tho blameless hope, tho cheering, sweet presage 
 
 Of future comforts for declining ago. 
 
 Can my sons share from this paternal hand 
 
 Tho proflU with the labors of tho land ? 
 
 No ! though indulgent Heaven its blessing deigns, 
 
 Where's tho small farm to suit my scanty means ? 
 
 CONTEXT, TOE ASCIEST lU2ilOEST OF TOE COTTAGE, CiSXOT 
 
 'Content, tho poet sings, with us resides ; 
 In lonely oots like mine tho damsel hides ; 
 And will ho tlien in raptured visions tell 
 That sweet Content with Want can ever dwell ? 
 A barley loaf, 'tis true, my table crowns, 
 That fast diminishing in lusty rounds 
 Stops Nature's cravings : yet her sighs will flow 
 From knowing this, — that once it was not so. 
 
 For home-brewed ale, neglected « 
 
 la (luito discarded from the realms of taste. 
 
 Where unaffected Freedom charmed the soul, 
 
 The separate table and tho costly bowl. 
 
 Cool as the blast that checks the budding Spring, 
 
 A mockery of gladness round them fling. 
 
 PCSCTILIOI-S, I 
 
 ' For oft the farmer, ore his heart approves. 
 Yields up the custom which ho dearly loves : 
 Keflncment forcea on him liko a tide ; 
 Bold innovationa down its current ride. 
 That bear no pcaco beneath their showy drcas, 
 Nor add one tittle to his happiness. 
 His guests selected ; rank's punctilios known ; 
 What trouble waits upon a casual frown ! 
 Restraint's foul manacles his pleasures maim ; 
 Selected guests selected phrases claim : 
 Nor reigna that |oy, when hand in hand they join, 
 That good old Master felt in shaking mine. 
 
 • Our annual feast, when earth her plenty yields. 
 When crowned with bougha tho last load quits the 
 Tho aspect still of ancient joy puts on ; [fields, 
 
 The aspect only, with the substance gone : 
 Tho self-same horn is still at our command. 
 But serves none now but the plebeian hand : 
 
 THE MiSTEK WHO OIVES TO LABOR ITS DCES. 
 
 'Heaven bless his memory! bless his honored 
 name ! 
 (Tho poor will speak his lasting, worthy fame) : 
 To souls fair-purposed strength and guidance give : 
 In pity to us still let goodness live : 
 Lot labor have its due ! my cot shall be 
 From chilling want and guilty murmurs free : 
 Let labor have its due ! — then peace ia mine. 
 And never, never shall my heart repine.' 
 
lastonii for lulu. 
 
 POPE'S "SUMMER," 
 
 A Shephekd's boy (he seeks no better name) 
 Led forth his flocks along the silver Thame, 
 Where dancing sunbeams on the waters played, 
 And verdant alders formed a quivering shade. 
 Soft as he mourned, the streams forgot to flow, 
 The flocks around a dumb compassion show. 
 The Naiads wept in every watery bower. 
 And Jove consented in a silent shower. 
 
 Accept, Garth, the Muse's early lays, 
 That adds this wreath of ivy to thy bays ; 
 Hear what from Love unpractised hearts endure, 
 From Love, the sole disease thou canst not cure. 
 
 Te shady beeches, and ye cooling streams. 
 Defence from Phoebus', not from Cupid's beams, 
 To you I mourn, nor to the deaf I sing ; 
 The woods shall answer, and their echo ring. 
 The hills and rocks attend my doleful lay — 
 Why art thou prouder and more hard than they? 
 The bleating sheep with my complaints agree. 
 They parched with heat, and I inflamed by thee ; 
 The sultry Sirius burns the thirsty plains, 
 While in thy heart eternal winter reigns. 
 
 Where stray ye. Muses, in what lawn or grove, 
 While your Alexis pines in hopeless love ? 
 In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides. 
 Or el.-ie where Cam his winding vales divides ? 
 As in the crystal spring I view my face. 
 Fresh rising blushes paint the watery glass ; 
 But since those graces please thy eyes no more, 
 I shun the fountains which I sought before. 
 Once I was skilled in every herb that grew. 
 And every plant that drinks the morning dew ; 
 Ah, wretched shepherd, what avails thy art. 
 To cure thy lambs, but not to heal thy heart ! 
 
 Let other swains attend the rural care. 
 Feed fairer flocks, or richer fleeces shear ; 
 But nigh yon mountain let me tune my lays. 
 Embrace my Love, and biml my br.iws with bays. 
 That flute is mine wlii. 1, Cnlins tin,, ful breath 
 Inspired when liviii;;. :i)i'l li, ,|ur;itlHd in death : 
 He said — Alexis, tiikv tlii- pip.'. Ilie same 
 That taught tlio groves my Rosalinda's name : 
 But now the reed shall hang on yonder tree. 
 Forever silent, since despised by thee. 
 
 1 were I made by some transforming power 
 The captive bird that sings within thy boiper ! 
 Then might my voice thy listening ears employ. 
 And I those kisses he receives enjoy. 
 
 And yet my numbers please the rural throng, 
 Rough Satyrs dance, and Pan applauds the song. 
 The Nymphs, forsaking every cave and spring. 
 Their early fruit and milk-white turtles bring : 
 Each amorous nymph prefers her gifts in vain. 
 On you their gifts are all bestowed again. 
 For you the swains the fairest flowers design. 
 And in one garland all their beauties join : 
 Accept the wreath which you deserve alone, 
 In whom all beauties are comprised in one. 
 
 See, what delights in sylvan scenes appear ! 
 Descending gods have found Elysium here. 
 In woods bright Venus with Adonis strayed, 
 And chaste Diana haunts the forest shade. 
 Come, lovely Nymph, and bless the silent hours. 
 When swains from shearing seek their nightly 
 When weary reapers quit the sultry field, [bowers; 
 And crowned with corn their thanks to Ceres yield. 
 This harmless grove no lurking viper hides. 
 But in my breast the serpent love abides ; 
 Here bees from blossoms sip the rosy dew, 
 But your Alexis knows no sweets but you. 
 deign to visit our forsaken seats. 
 The merry fountains, and the green retreats ! 
 Where'er you walk, cool gales shall fan the glade ; 
 Trees, where you sit, shall crowd into a shade : 
 Where'er you tread, the blushing flowers shall rise, 
 And all things flourish where you turn your eyes. 
 
 0, how I long with you to pass my days, 
 Invoke the Muses, and resound your praise ! 
 Your praise the birds shall chant in every grove. 
 And winds shall waft it to the powers above. 
 But would you sing, and rival Orpheus' strain. 
 The wondering forests soon should dance again. 
 The moving mountains hear the powerful call. 
 And headlong streams hang listening in their fall ! 
 
 But see, the shepherds shun the noonday heat. 
 The lowing herds to murmuring brooks retreat ; 
 To closer shades the panting flocks remove ; 
 Ye gods ! and is there no relief for love ? 
 But soon the sun with milder rays descends 
 To the cool ocean, where his journey ends : 
 On mo Love's fiercer flames forever prey ; 
 By night he scorches, as he burns by day. 
 
Jnnstronij's ''2 
 
 Irt of liraltl)." 
 
 "DIET." 
 
 Too soon expelled. His daily labor thaws, 
 
 THE Sl'BJKCT OF DIET USPROMISISO FOR THE POET. 
 
 To friendly chyle, the most rebellious mass 
 
 
 That salt can harden, or the smoke of years ; 
 
 EsouOH of air. A desert subject now, 
 Rougher and wilder, rises to my siglit ; 
 A barren waste, wliero not a garland grows 
 To bind the muse's brow ; not e'en a proud, 
 Stupendous solitude frowns o'er the heath, 
 To rouse a noble horror in the soul : 
 But rugged paths fatigue, and error leads 
 Through endless labyrinths the devious feet. 
 Farewell, ethereal fields ! the humbler arts 
 
 Nor does his gorge the rancid bacon rue ; 
 Nor that which Cestria sends, tenacious paste 
 Of solid milk. But ye of softer clay, 
 Infirm and delicate ! and ye who waste. 
 With pale and bloated sloth, the tedious day ! 
 
 The full repast ; and let sagacious age 
 Grow wiser, lessoned by the dropping teeth. 
 
 Of life, the table of the homely gods, 
 
 BEST AGE ASD COSDITIOS OF MEATS. — STALL-FED CATTLE 
 
 Demand my song : Elysian gales, adieu ! 
 
 C.NHEALTnY. 
 
 TCE CIBCl-I-ATION OF THE BLOOD.— FTS WASTE AND RE- 
 
 Half subtilizcMl to chvlo. the li<|ui(l food 
 
 NEWAL. — CnifLE. 
 
 Readiest .il..v- 11,.. a-M„„l;,ti„- P"w,-i-s ; 
 
 The blood, the fountain whence the spirits flow, 
 
 Andsoi.ii tl.r 1, ,,.], , ,.■■. i.iM,. ,,,,,.- 
 
 The generous stream that waters every part. 
 
 Relents ; :inil -.-n iIm iMiH,^ nt 11,.,-r that tread 
 
 And motion, vigor, and warm life, conveys 
 
 Thostuirllj-i .:Miii, n, ri,;u,. iIm ,iv,.,i abyss. 
 
 To every particle that moves or lives ; 
 
 Orpathlr," -K.i, \i,.! ilih- -i.r, i.instfall. 
 
 This vital fluid, through unnumbered tubes 
 
 Xnyoutli ;,ii.i .,M.,iiin.. M-r 1. I hnn .lie; 
 
 '< Poured by the heart, and to the heart again 
 
 Nor stay till ri-i.| ;l^... ..r i,..-uv :iiN, 
 
 Refunded ; scourged forever round and round ; 
 
 Absolve him, ill rt-.iuitcd, from the yoke. 
 
 Enraged with heat and toil, at last forgets 
 
 Some with high forage, and luxuriant case. 
 
 Its balmy nature ; virulent and thin 
 
 Indulge the veteran ox ; but wiser thou, 
 
 It grows ; and now, but that a thousand gates 
 
 From the bald mountain or the barren downs. 
 
 : Are open to its flight, it would destroy 
 
 Expect the flocks by frugal nature fed ; 
 
 The parts it cherished and repaired before. 
 
 A race of purer blood, with exercise 
 
 Besides, the flexible and tender tubes 
 
 Refined and scanty fare ; for, old or young, 
 
 Molt in the mildest, most nectareous tide 
 
 The stalled are never healthy ; nor the crammed : 
 
 That ripening nature rolls ; as in the stream 
 
 Not all the culinary arts can tame, 
 
 Its crumbling banks ; but what the vital force 
 
 To wholesome food, the abominable growth 
 
 Of plastic fluids hourly batters down. 
 
 Of rest and gluttony ; the prudent taste 
 
 That very force those plastic particles 
 
 Rejects, like bane, such loathsome lusciousness. 
 
 Rebuild : so mutable the state of man ! 
 
 
 For this the watchful appetite was given, 
 
 CSHKALTinSKSS OF FAT. 
 
 Daily, with fresh materials, to repair 
 
 The languid stomach curses e'en the pure 
 
 This unavoidable expense of life, 
 
 Delicious fat, and all the race of oil : 
 
 This necessary waste of flesh and blood. 
 
 For more the oily aliments relax 
 
 Ilenoe the concoctive powers, with various art. 
 
 Its feeble tone ; and with the eager lymph 
 
 Subdue the cruder alimenta to chyle ; 
 
 (Fond to incorporate with all it meets) 
 
 The chyle to blood ; the foamy purple tide 
 
 Coyly they mix, and shun with slippery wiles 
 
 To liquors, which, through finer arteries, 
 
 The wooed embrace. The irresoluble oil, 
 
 To diSferent parts their winding course pursue ; 
 
 So gentle late, and blandishing, in floods 
 
 To try new changes, and now forms put on. 
 
 Of rancid bile o'crflows : what tumults hence. 
 
 ! Or for the public, or some private use. 
 
 What horrors rise, were nauseous to relate. 
 
 THE laborer's dioestio.1.— ibe sede.vtakt mas's food. 
 
 DIET PROPER TO A FFLL HABIT ; TO A LEAN ONE. 
 
 Nothing so foreign but th' athletic hind 
 
 Choose leaner viands, ye whose jovial make 
 
 Can labor into blood. The hungry meal 
 
 Too fast the gummy nutriment imbibes : 
 
 Alone he fears, or aliments too thin ; 
 
 Choose sober meals ; and rouse to active life 
 
 By violent powers too easily subdued. 
 
 Your cumbrous clay ; nor on the enfeebling down, 
 
200 
 
 EURAL POETRY. — ARMSTRONG. 
 
 Irresolute, protract the morning hours. 
 But let the man whose bones are thinly clad 
 With cheerful ease, and succulent repast. 
 Improve his slender habit. Each extreme 
 From the blest mean of sanity departs. 
 
 miOSYNCnASlES as TO FOOD. — NONE AGREES WITH ALL. 
 
 I could relate what table this demands. 
 Or that complexion ; what the various powers 
 Of various foods : but fifty years would roll. 
 And fifty more, before the tale were done. 
 Besides, there often lurks some nameless, strange. 
 Peculiar thing ; nor on the sliin displayed. 
 Felt in the pulse, nor in the habit seen ; 
 Which finds a poison in the food that most 
 The temperature affects. There are, whose blood 
 Impetuous rages through the turgid veins. 
 Who better bear the fiery fruits of Ind, 
 Than the moist melon, or pale cucumber. 
 Of chilly nature, others fly the board 
 Supplied with slaughter, and the vernal powers 
 
 Some even tlie generous nutriment detest 
 
 Which, in the shell, the sleepiug embryo rears. 
 
 Some, more unhappy still, repent the gifts 
 
 Of Pales ; soft, delicious, and benign : 
 
 The balmy quintessence of every flower. 
 
 And every grateful herb that decks the Spring ; 
 
 The fostering dew of tender sprouting life ; 
 
 The best refection of declining age ; 
 
 The kind restorative of those who lie 
 
 Half dead, and panting, from the doubtful strife 
 
 Of nature struggling in the grasp of death. 
 
 Try all the bounties of this fertile globe. 
 
 There is not such a salutary food 
 
 As suits with every stomach. 
 
 EXPEEIESCE A OnDB AS TO FOOD. 
 
 But — except. 
 Amid the mingled mass of fish and fowl. 
 And boiled and baked, you hesitate by which 
 You sunk oppressed, or whether not by all — 
 Taught by experience soon you may discern 
 What pleases, what offends. Avoid the cates 
 That lull the sickening appetite too long , 
 Or heave with feverish flushings all the face. 
 Burn in the palms,and parch the roughening tongue ; 
 Or much diminish, or too much increase, 
 Th' expense, which nature's wise economy, 
 Without or waste or avarice, maintains. 
 Such cates abjured, let prowling hunger loose. 
 And bid the curious palate roam at will ; 
 They scarce can err amid the various stores 
 That burst the teeming entrails of the world. 
 
 INSTINCT GUIDES THEM TO THEIR FOOD. 
 
 Led by sagacious taste, the ruthless king 
 Of beasts on blood and slaughter only lives ; 
 The tiger, formed alike to cruel meals. 
 Would at the manger starve : of milder feeds. 
 
 The generous horse to herbage and to grain 
 Confines his wish ; though fabling Greece resound 
 The Thraeian steeds with human carnage wild. 
 Prompted by instinct's never-erring power, 
 Bach creature knows its proper aliment ; 
 But man, the inhabitant of every clime, 
 With all the commoners of nature feeds. 
 Directed, bounded, by this power within. 
 Their cravings are well aimed : voluptuous man 
 Is by superior faculties misled ; 
 Misled from pleasure even in quest of joy. 
 
 TEMPERANCE IS TRUE LUXURY. 
 
 Sated with nature's boons, what thousands seek, 
 With dishes tortured from their native taste, 
 And mad variety, to spur beyond 
 Its wiser will the jaded appetite ! 
 Is this for pleasure ? Learn a juster taste ; 
 And know that temperance is true luxury. 
 
 Or is it pride ? Pursue some nobler aim. 
 Dismiss your parasites, who praise for hire ; 
 And earn the fair esteem of honest men, [yours. 
 Whose praise is fame. Formed of such clay as 
 The sick, the needy, shiver at your gates. 
 E'en modest want may bless your hand unseen, 
 Though hushed in patient wretchedness at home. 
 Is there no virgin, graced with every charm 
 But that which binds the mercenary vow ? 
 No youth of genius, whose neglected bloom, 
 Unfostered, sickens in the barren shade ? 
 No worthy man, by fortune's random blows. 
 Or by a heart too generous and humane. 
 Constrained to leave his happy natal seat. 
 And sigh for wants more bitter than his own ? 
 There are, while human miseries abound, 
 A thousand ways to waste superfluous wealth, 
 Without one fool or flatterer at your board. 
 Without one hour of sickness or disgust. 
 
 TOO GREAT VARIETY AT A SIEAL CONDKJISEB. —CHANGE 
 RECOMSfENDED. 
 
 But Other ills the ambiguous feast pursue. 
 Besides provoking the lascivious taste. 
 Such various foods, though harmless each alone, 
 Each other violate ; and oft we see 
 AVhat strife is brewed, and what pernicious bane, 
 From combinations of innoxious things. 
 Th' unbounded taste I mean not to confine 
 To hermit's diet, needlessly severe. 
 But would you long the sweets of health enjoy. 
 Or husband pleasure ; at one impious meal 
 E.xhaust not half the bounties of the year. 
 And of each realm. It matters not meanwhile 
 How much to-morrow differ from to-day ; 
 So far indulge : 't is fit, besides, that man. 
 To change obnoxious, be to change inured. 
 But stay the curious appetite, and taste 
 With caution fruits you never tried before. 
 
SUMMER — JDLT. 
 
 "1 
 
 For want of uso the kindest aliment 
 
 Sometimes oSbnds ; while custom tomes the rago 
 
 Of poison to mild amity with life. 
 
 KXCKSS TO BB AVOIDED, ISD KVKS SATIETV. 
 
 So Heaven has formed us to the general tasto 
 Of nil its gifts ; so custom has improved 
 This bent of nature ; that few simple foods, 
 Of all that earth, or air, or oeenn yield. 
 But by excess offend. Beyond tho sense 
 Of light refection, at the genial board 
 Indulge not often ; nor protract tho feast 
 To dull satiety ; till soft and slow 
 A drowsy death creeps on, the expansive soul 
 Oppressed, and smothered the celestial fire. 
 The stomach, urged beyond its active tone, 
 Hardly to nutrimental chyle subdues 
 Tho softest food : unfinished and depraved, 
 Tho chyle, in all its future wanderings, owns 
 Its turbid fountain ; not by purer streams 
 So to be cleared, but foulness will remain. 
 To sparkling wine what ferment can exalt 
 The unripened grape 7 Or what mechanic skill 
 From the crude ore can spin the ductile gold ? 
 
 BIOTL-IO ASD ASCCTICISM EQUALLY TO BE SHUSSED. 
 
 ip a wealthy fund 
 Of plagues ; but more immedicable ills 
 Attend the lean extreme. For physic knows 
 Uow to disburden the too tumid veins. 
 Even how to ripen the half-labored blood : 
 But to unlock the elemental tubes, 
 Collapsed and shrunk with long inanity, 
 And with balsamic nutriment repair 
 The dried and worn-out habit, were to bid 
 Old age grow green, and wear a second spring ; 
 Or the tall ash, long ravished from the soil. 
 Through withered veins imbibe the vernal dew. 
 
 When hunger calls, obey ; nor often wait 
 Till hunger sharpen to corrosive pain : 
 For the keen appetite will feast beyond 
 What nature well can bear ; and one extreme 
 Ne'er without danger meets its own reverse. 
 Too greedily the exhausted veins absorb 
 The recent chyle, and load enfeebled powers, 
 Oft to the extinction of tho vital flame. 
 To tho pale cities, by tho firm-set siege. 
 And famine, humbled, may this verso be borne ; 
 And hear, ye hardiest sons that Albion breeds. 
 Long tossed and famished on the wintry main ; 
 Tho war shook off, or hospitable shore 
 Attained, with temperance bear the shook of joy ; 
 Nor crown with festive rites tho auspicious day ; 
 Such feast might prove more fatal than tho waves. 
 Than war, or famine. While the vital fire 
 Burns feebly, heap not the green fuel on ; 
 But prudently foment the wandering spark 
 With what the soonest feels its kindred touch : 
 
 Bo frugal even of that ; a little give 
 At first ; that kindled, add a little more ; 
 Till, by deliberate nourishing, the flame 
 Revived, with all iU wonted vigor glows. 
 
 CBAXOE ORADCALLr. — AB3TAIS WIIES NATCBB U1ST3 
 
 But though tho two (tho full and the jejune) 
 Extremes have each their vice ; it much avails 
 Ever with gentle tide to ebb and flow 
 From this to that : so nature learns to bear 
 Whatever chance or headlong appetite 
 May bring. Besides, a meagre day subdues 
 Tho cruder clods by sloth or luxury 
 Collected, and unloads tho wheels of life. 
 Sometimes a coy aversion to the feast 
 Comes on, while yet no blacker omen lowers ; 
 Then is a time to shun the tempting board. 
 Wore it your natal or your nuptial day. 
 Perhaps a fast so seasonable starves 
 The latent seeds of woe, which, rooted onco. 
 Might cost you labor. 
 
 But the day returned 
 Of festal luxury, the wise indulge 
 Most in the tender, vegetable breed ; 
 Then chiefly when the Summer beams inflame 
 The brazen heavens ; or angry Sirius .'^heils 
 A feverish taint through the still gulf of air. 
 The moist cool viands then, and flowing cup 
 From tho fresh dairy-virgin's liberal hand, [world 
 Will save your head from harm, though round the 
 The dreaded ' Causos roll his wasteful fires. 
 
 Pale humid Winter loves the generous hoard. 
 The meal more copious, and a warmer fare ; 
 And longs with old wood and old wine to cheor 
 His quaking heart. Tho seasons which divide 
 The empires of heat and cold ; by neither claimed. 
 Influenced by both, a middle regimen 
 Impose. Through autumn's languishing domain 
 Descending, nature by degrees invites 
 To glowing luxury. But, from tho depth 
 Of Winter when the invigorated year 
 Emerges ; when Favonius, flushed with love, 
 Toyful and young, in every breeze descends 
 More warm and wanton on his kindling bride ; 
 Then, shepherds, then begin to spare your flocks ; 
 And learn, with wise humanity, to cheek 
 The lust of blood. Now pregnant earth commits 
 A various offspring to tho indulgent sky ; 
 Now bounteous nature feeds with lavish hand 
 The prone creation ; yields what once sufficed 
 Their dainty sovereign, when the world was young; 
 1 Ere yet tho barbarous thirst of blood had seized 
 The human breast. Each rolling month matures 
 The food that suits it most ; so does each elime. 
 
 I 1 The burning fever. 
 
202 
 
 RURAL POETRY. ARMSTRONG. 
 
 Far in the horrid realms of winter, where 
 The established ocean heaps a monstrous waste 
 Of shining rocks and mountains to the pole ; 
 There lives a hardy race, whose plainest wants 
 Relentless earth, their cruel step-mother, 
 Regards not. On the waste of iron fields, 
 Untamed, intractable, no harvests wave : 
 Pomona hates them, and the clownish god 
 Who tends the garden. In this frozen world 
 Such cooling gifts were vain : a fitter meal 
 Is earned with ease ; for here the fruitful spawn 
 Of Ocean swarms, and heaps their genial board 
 With generous fare, and luxury profuse. 
 These are their bread, the only bread they know ; 
 These, and their willing slave the deer, that crops 
 The scrubby herbage on their meagre hills. 
 Or scales, for fattening moss, the savage rocks. 
 
 APPLES. — Acms. - 
 
 PALMS ; PLAN- 
 
 Girt by the burning zone, not thus the south 
 Her swarthy sons, in either Ind, maintains ; 
 Or thirsty Libya ; from whose fervid loins 
 The lion bursts, and every fiend that roams 
 The affrighted wilderness. The mountain herd. 
 Adust and dry, no sweet repast affords ; 
 Nor does the tepid main such kinds produce, 
 So perfect, so delicious, as the shoals 
 Of icy Zembla. Rashly where the blood 
 Brews feverish frays ; where scarce the tubes sustain 
 Its tumid fervor and tempestuous course ; 
 Kind nature tempts not to such gifts as these. 
 But here in livid ripeness melts the grape ; 
 Here, finished by invigorating suns. 
 Through the green shade the golden orange glows ; 
 Spontaneous here the turgid melon yields 
 A generous pulp ; the cocoa swells on high 
 With milky riches ; and in horrid mail 
 The crisp ananas wraps its poignant sweets : 
 Earth's vaunted progeny ! — in ruder air 
 Too coy to flourish, e'en too proud to live ; 
 Or hardly raised by artificial fire 
 To vapid life. Here with a mother's smile 
 Glad Amalthea pours her copious horn ; 
 Here buxom Ceres reigns ; the autumnal sea 
 In boundless billows fluctuates o'er their plains. 
 What suits the climate best, what suits the men, 
 Nature profuses most, and most the taste 
 Demands. The fountain, edged with racy wine 
 Or acid fruit, bedews their thirsty souls. 
 The breeze eternal breathing round their limbs 
 Supports in else intolerable air : 
 While the cool palm, the plantain, and the grove 
 That waves on gloomy Lebanon, assuage 
 The torrid hell that beams upon their heads. 
 
 Now let me wander through your gelid reign : 
 
 I burn to view the enthusiastic wilds 
 
 By mortal else untrod. I hear the din 
 
 Of waters thundering, o'er the ruined cliffs. 
 
 With holy reverence I approach the rocks 
 
 Whence glide the streams renowned in ancient song. 
 
 Here from the desert down the rumbling steep 
 
 First springs the Nile ; here bursts the sounding Po 
 
 In angry waves ; Euphrates hence devolves 
 
 A mighty flood to water half the East ; 
 
 And there, in Gothic solitude reclined. 
 
 The cheerless Tanais pours his hoary urn. 
 
 What solemn twilight ! What stupendous shades 
 
 Enwrap these infant floods ! Through every nerve 
 
 A sacred horror thrills, a pleasing fear 
 
 Glides o'er my frame. The forest deepens round ; 
 
 And more gigantic still the impending trees 
 
 Stretch their extravagant arms athwart the gloom ! 
 
 Are these the confines of some fairy world ? 
 A land of Genii ? Say, beyond these wilds 
 What unknown nations ? If indeed beyond 
 Aught habitable lies. And whither leads, 
 To what strange regions, or of bliss or pain. 
 That subterraneous way ? Propitious Maids, 
 Conduct me, while with fearful steps I tread 
 This trembling ground. The task remains to sing 
 Your gifts (so Pteon, so the powers of health 
 Command), to praise your crystal element. 
 The chief ingredient in heaven's various works ; 
 Whose flexile genius sparkles in the gem, 
 Grows firm in oak, and fugitive in wine ; 
 The vehicle, the source of nutriment 
 And life, to all that vegetate or live. 
 
 COLD WATER THE BEST OP DKINKS. — THE GOLDEN AGE. 
 
 comfortable streams ! with eager lips 
 And trembling hand the languid thirsty quaff 
 New life in you ; fresh vigor fills their veins. 
 No warmer cups the rural ages knew ; 
 None warmer sought the sires of human kind. 
 Happy in temperate peace ! Their equal days 
 Felt not the alternate fits of feverish mirth 
 And sick dejection. Still serene and pleased. 
 They knew no pains but what the tender soul 
 With pleasure yields to, and would ne'er forget. 
 Blest with divine immunity from ails. 
 Long centuries they lived ; their only fato 
 Was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death. 
 ! could those worthies from the world of gods 
 Return to visit their degenerate sons. 
 How would they scorn the joys of modern time 
 With all our art and toil improved to pain ! 
 Too happy they ! But wealth brought luxury. 
 And luxury on sloth begot disease. 
 
 REASONS OF mPPOCRATES IS FAVOR OF WATER BEVERAGE. 
 
 Learn temperance, friends ! and hear without dis- 
 The choice of water. Thus the Coan ' sage; [dain 
 
 Now come, ye Naiads, to the fountains lead ; 
 
Opined, and thus the learned of every school. 
 
 Wliiit least of foreign principles partakes 
 
 Is best : the lightest then ; what bears the touch 
 
 Of fire the least, and soonest mounts in air ; 
 
 The most insipid ; the most void of smell. 
 
 Such the rude mountain from his horrid sides 
 
 Pours down ; such waters in the sandy valo 
 
 Forever boil, alike of winter's frost 
 
 And summer's heat secure. The crystal stream, 
 
 Through rooks resounding, or for many a mile 
 
 O'er the chafed pebbles hurled, yields wholesom< 
 
 pure. 
 And mellow draughts ; except when winter thawSj 
 And half the mountains melt into the tide. 
 
 Though thirst we e'e 
 The sordid lake, and all such drowsy floods 
 As fill from Lethe Belgia's slow canals 
 (With rest, corrupt, with vcgctfition green ; 
 Squalid ni>h _-,,„,,, II.,,,, ,,,1.1 the birth 
 Oflittl.' ni , , I , : liii |.uw.Tuffiro 
 Has froiij i , : ,,. , .,, : , , • .list-ngagcd 
 The viulau-.i i.t.i.|.ii. UiL- lirgin stream 
 In boiling wastes its finer soul in air. 
 
 USE OP WISE AND rERJIESTED DRI.SKS. 
 
 Nothing like simple clement dilutes 
 The food, or gives the chyle so soon to flow. 
 But where the stomach, indolent and cold. 
 Toys with its duty, animate with wine 
 The insipid stream ; the golden Ceres yields 
 A more voluptuous, a more sprightly draught ; 
 Perhaps more active. Wine unmixed, and all 
 The gluey floods that from the vexed abyss 
 Of fermentation spring ; with spirit fraught, 
 And furious with intoxicating fire ; 
 Retard concoction, and preserve unthawcd 
 The embodied mass. You see what countless years 
 Embalmed in fiery quintessence of wine. 
 The puny wonders of the reptile world. 
 The tender rudiments of life, the slim 
 Unravellinga of minute anatomy. 
 Maintain their texture, and unchanged remain. 
 
 We curse not wine : the vile excess we blame 
 More fruitful than the accumulated hoard 
 Of pain and misery. l''or the subtle draught 
 Faster and surer swells the vital tide ; 
 And with more active poison than the floods 
 Of grosser crudity convoy pervades 
 The far-remote meanders of our frame. 
 Ah ! sly deceiver ! branded o'er and o'er. 
 Yet still believed ! exulting o'er the wreck 
 Of sober vows ! — But the Parnassian maids. 
 Another time,' perhaps, shall sing the joys. 
 The fatal charms, the many woes of wine ; 
 Perhaps its various tribes, and various powers. 
 
 BOW, wms, ASn where, to isdilob is wise. 
 Meantime, I would not always dread the bowl. 
 Nor every trespass shun. The feverish strife. 
 Roused by the rare debauch, subdues, expels. 
 The loitering crudities that burden life ; 
 And, like a torrent full and rapid, clears 
 The obstructed tubes. Besides, this restless world 
 Is full of chances, which by habit's power 
 To learn to bear is easier than to shun. 
 Ah ! when ambition, meagre love of gold, 
 Or sacred country, calls, with mellowing wine 
 To moisten well the thirsty suffrages : 
 Say how, unseasoned to the midnight frays 
 Of Comus and his rout, wilt thou contend 
 With Centaurs long to hardy deeds inured? 
 Then learn to revel ; but by slow degrees : 
 By slow degrees the liberal arts arc won ; 
 And Hercules grew strong. But when you smooth 
 The brows of care, indulge your festive vein 
 In cups by well-informed experience found 
 The least your bane ; and only with your friends. 
 There are sweet follies : frailties to be seen 
 By friends alone, and men of generous minds. 
 
 ! seldom may the fated hours return 
 Of drinking deep ! I would not daily taste. 
 Except when life declines, oven sober cups. 
 Weak, withering age no rigid law forbids. 
 With frugal nectar, smooth and slow with halm, 
 The sapless habit daily to bedew. 
 And give the hesitating wheels of life 
 Gliblicr to play. But youth has better joys : 
 And is it wise, when youth with pleasure flows. 
 To squander the reliefs of age and pain ? 
 
 excess in WI.-iE, OR FOOD, OR Wi 
 
 What dextrous thousands just within the goal 
 Of wild debauch direct their nightly course ? 
 Perhaps no sickly qualms bedim their days. 
 No morning admonitions shock the head. 
 But, ah ! what woes remain ! life rolls apace. 
 And that incurable disease, old age, 
 In youthful bodies more severely felt, 
 More sternly active, shakes their blasted prime : 
 Except kind nature by some hasty blow 
 Prevent the lingering fates. For know whate'er 
 Beyond it^ natural fervor hurries on 
 The sanguine tide ; whether the frequent bowl. 
 High-seasoned fare, or exercise to toil 
 Protracted ; spurs to its last stage tired life, 
 And sows the temples with untimely snow. 
 
 LIKE STOPS. 
 
 When life is new, the ductile fibres feel 
 The heart's increasing force ; and, day by day. 
 The growth advances ; till the larger tubes. 
 Acquiring (from their elemental ' veins, 
 
 1 See Armstrong's * Art of I 
 
 'Thel 
 
 ,al8, the larger t 
 
 1 body, as well as In the I: 
 
KURAL POETRY. ARMSTRONG. 
 
 Condensed to solid chords) a firmer tone, 
 
 Sustain, and just sustain, the impetuous blood. 
 
 Here stops the growth. With overbearing pulse 
 
 And pressure, still the great destroy the small ; 
 
 Still with the ruins of the small grow strong. 
 
 Life glows meantime, amid the grinding force 
 
 Of viscous 6uids and elastic tubes ; 
 
 Its various functions vigorously are plied 
 
 By strong machinery ; and in solid health 
 
 The man confirmed long triumphs o'er disease. 
 
 But the full ocean ebbs ; there is a point. 
 
 By nature fixed, whence life must downward tend. 
 
 For still the beating tide consolidates 
 
 The stubborn vessels, more reluctant still 
 
 To the weak throbs of the ill-supported heart. 
 
 This languishing, these strengthening by degrees 
 
 To hard, unyielding, unelastic bone, 
 
 Through tedious channels the congealing flood 
 
 Crawls lazily, and hardly wanders on ; 
 
 It loiters still : and now it stirs no more. 
 
 This is the period few attain ; the death 
 
 Of nature ; thus (so Heaven ordained it) life 
 
 which, by the violent motion and pressure of the fluids in 
 the large vessels, lose their cavities by degrees, and degene- 
 rate into impervious chords or fibres. In proportion as 
 these small vessels become solid, the larger must of course 
 grow less extensile, more rigid, and malie a stronger resist- 
 ance to the action of the heart, and force of the blood. 
 From this gradual condensation of the smaller vessels, and 
 consequent rigidity of the larger ones, the progress of the 
 human body, from infancy to old age, is accounted for. 
 
 Destroys itself ; and could these laws have changed, 
 Nestor might now the fates of Troy relate ; 
 And Homer live immortal as his song. 
 
 so DO HIS ' WORKS, GRADDALLY TEND 
 N END. — BAHVLON ; GREECE ", ROME ; EGYP' 
 ALTERNATIONS OF LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 PROGRESS 
 
 What does not fade ? The tower that long had 
 The crash of thunder and the warring winds, [stood 
 Shook by the slow but sure destroyer. Time, 
 Now hangs in doubtful ruins o'er its base. 
 And flinty pyramids, and walls of brass. 
 Descend : the Babylonian spires are sunk ; 
 Aehaia, Rome, and Egypt, moulder down. 
 TiiJi'- -li;k1ii> Ihr flahle tyranny of thrones, 
 And l.ill<'i iiiL' 'iiii'Mrs rush by their own weight. 
 Till- Iniii iMhiii'litv we tread grows old, 
 And all tli"-r \v"rMs that roll around the Sun, 
 The Sun himself, shall die, and ancient Night 
 Again involve the desolate abyss : 
 Till the great Father through the lifeless gloom 
 E.\tend his arm to light another world. 
 And bid new planets roll by other laws. 
 For through the regions of unbounded space, 
 Where unoonfined Omnipotence has room, 
 Being, in various systems, fluctuates still 
 Between creation and abhorred decay : 
 It ever did : perhaps and ever will. 
 New worlds are still emerging from the deep ; 
 The old descending, in their turns to rise. 
 
 ®;usstr's ''lulu's ljushiuiirii/ 
 
 No tempest, good July, Forgotten month past, 
 
 Lest corn all look ruly. Do now at the last. 
 
 Go muster thy servants, be captain thyself. 
 Providing them weapons, and other like pelf : 
 Get bottles and wallets, keep field in the heat. 
 The fear is as much as the danger is great. 
 With tossing and raking, and setting on cocks. 
 Grass lately in swathes is hay for an ox : 
 That done, go and cart it, and have it away, 
 The battle is fought, ye have gotten the day. 
 Pay justly thy tithes, whatsoever thou bo. 
 That God may, in blessing, send foison to thee : 
 Though vicar be bad, or the parson as evil, 
 Go not for thy tithing thyself to the devil. 
 Let hay be well made, or avise else a vous,^ 
 For moulding in now, or of firing the house. 
 Lay warsest aside, for the ox and the cow, 
 The finest for sheep and thy gelding allow. 
 Then down with the headlands, that groweth about. 
 Leave never a dallop,^ unmown and had out ; 
 Though grass be but thin about barley and pease. 
 Yet picked up clean, ye sh.all find therein ease. 
 Thryfnllow betime, for destroying of weed. 
 Lest thistle and dock fall a blooming and seed : 
 Such season may chance, it shall stand thee upon, 
 To till it again, ere a summer be gone. 
 
 Not rent off, but cut off, ripe bean with a knife, 
 For hindering stalk, of her vegetive life. 
 So gather the lowest, and leaving the top. 
 Shall teach thee a trick, for to double thy crop. 
 Wife, pluck fro thy seed hemp the fimble hemp clean. 
 This looketh more yellow, the other more green : 
 Use t' one for thy spinning, leave Michell the t' other, 
 For shoe-thread and halter, for rope and such other. 
 Now pluck up thy flax, for the maidens to spin, 
 First see it dried, and timely got in : 
 And mow up thy brank,^ and away with it dry, 
 And house it up close, out of danger to lie. 
 While wormwood hath seed, get a handful or twain, 
 To save against March, to make flea to refrain : 
 When chamber is sweeped, and wormwood is strown, 
 No flea, for his life, dare .abide to be known. 
 What savor is bettor, if physic be true. 
 For places infected, than wormwood and rue? 
 It is as a comfort for heart and the brain. 
 And therefore to have it, it is not in vain. 
 Get grist to the mill to have plenty in store. 
 Lest miller lack water, as many do more. 
 The meal the more yieldeth if servant be true, 
 And miller that tolleth take none but his due. 
 1 Assure yourself. " Patch unploughed. s Buckwheat. 
 
plural (i>hs for 3tu(i). 
 
 BRYANT'S "AFTKll A TEMPEST." 
 The day had been a day of wind and storm ; — 
 
 The wind was laid, the storm was overpast, — 
 And stooping from the zenith, bright and warm. 
 
 Shone the great sun on the wide earth, at last. 
 
 I stood upon the upland slope, and east 
 My eye upon a broad and beauteous scene, 
 
 Where the vast plain lay girt by mountains vast, 
 And hills o'er hills lifted their heads of green, 
 With pleasant vales seooped outand villages between. 
 The 
 
 •drops gli- 
 Whose shadow? ■ 
 ,ve when a show' 
 Was shaken by I 
 Forbirdswere wi 
 
 M I ■ iiround, 
 
 I . not stirred, 
 
 .;n!l.,l IM; 
 111, and bees wore heard 
 
 About the flowers ; the cheerful rivulet sung 
 
 And gossiped, as be hastened ocean-ward ; 
 To the gray oak the squirrel, chiding, clung. 
 And chirping from the ground the grasshopper up- 
 sprung. 
 And from beneath the leaves that kept them dry 
 
 Flew many a glittering insect here and there, 
 And darted up and down the butterfly. 
 
 That seemed a living blossom of the air. 
 
 The flocks came scattering from the thicket, where 
 The violent rain had pent them, in the way 
 
 Strolled groups of damsels frolicsome and fair, 
 The farmer swung the scythe or turned the hay. 
 And 'twi.\t the heavy swaths his children wore at 
 
 play. 
 It was a scene of peace — and, like a spell, 
 
 Did that serene and -golden sunlight fall 
 Upon the motionless wood that clothed the coll, 
 
 And precipice upspringing like a wall. 
 
 And glassy river and white waterfall. 
 And happy living things that trod the bright 
 
 And beauteous scene ; while, far beyond them all, 
 On many a lovely valley, out of sight. 
 Was poured from the blue heavens the same soft 
 
 golden light. 
 I looked, and thought the quiet of the scene 
 
 An emblem of the peace that yet shall be, 
 When o'er earth's continents and isles between 
 
 The noise of war shall cease from sea to sea. 
 
 And married nations dwell in harmony. 
 When millions, crouching in the dust to one. 
 
 No more shall beg their lives on bended knee. 
 Nor the black stake be dressed, nor in the sun 
 The o'crlabored captive toil, and wish his life were 
 
 Too long at clash of arms amid her bower:', 
 And pools of blood, the earth has stood aghast. 
 
 The fair earth, that should only blush with flowers 
 And ru.l.lv fi iiits ; but not for aye can last 
 TIm I I! .1- i .1 . t tlic sunshine when 't is past; 
 
 L<i, II, n —they break— they fly, 
 
 Ai)l i u. light of Summer, cast 
 
 O'tT til' ^^ I I I Mii ,4,1, Irom the embracing sky, 
 
 On all the peaceful world the smile of Heaven shall 
 lie. 
 
 ROGERS'S "RUR.VL RETREAT." 
 Mine be a cot beside the hill ; 
 
 A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my car ; 
 A willowy brook^ that turns a mill. 
 
 With many a fall, shall linger near. 
 The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch. 
 
 Shall twitter from her clay-built nest ; 
 Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, 
 
 And share my meal, a welcome guest. 
 Around my ivied porch shall spring 
 
 Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew ; 
 And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing. 
 
 In russet-gown and apron blue. 
 The village church, among the trees, 
 
 Where first our marriage vows were given 
 With merry peals shall swell the breeze. 
 
 And point with taper spire to heaven. 
 
 LONGFELLOW'S "ANGLER'S SONG.' 
 
 From the river's plashy bank. 
 
 Where the sedge grows green and rank. 
 
 And the txvisted woodbine springs. 
 Upward speeds the morning lark 
 To its silver cloud — and hark ! 
 
 On his way the woodman sings. 
 
 On the dim and misty lakes 
 Gloriously the morning breaks. 
 
 And the eagle 's on his cloud : — 
 Whilst the wind, with sighing, woos 
 To its arms the chaste cold ooze, 
 
 And the rustling reeds pipe loud. 
 
 Where the embracing ivy holds 
 Close the hoar elm in its folds, 
 
 In the meadow's fenny land? 
 And the winding river sweeps 
 Through its shallows and still deeps, — 
 
 Silent with my rod I stand. 
 
206 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — DRAYTON — BRYANT. 
 
 But when sultry suns are high 
 Underneath the oak I lie, 
 
 As it shades the water's edge, 
 And I mark my line, away 
 In the wheeling eddy, play. 
 
 Tangling with the river sedge. 
 
 When the eye of erening looks 
 
 On green woods and winding brooks, 
 
 And the wind sighs o'er the lea, — 
 Woods and streams, I leave you then, 
 While the shadow in the glen 
 
 Lengthens by the greenwood tree. 
 
 DRAYTON'S " BOUQUET." 
 
 Hebe, damask roses, white and red. 
 
 Out of ray lap first take I, 
 Which still shall run along the thread ; 
 
 My ohiefest flower this make I. 
 
 Among these roses in a row 
 Next place I pinks in plenty ; 
 
 These double pansies then, for show, 
 And will not this be dainty ? 
 
 The pretty pansy then I '11 tie 
 
 Like stones some chain enchasing ; 
 
 And next to them, their near ally. 
 The purple violet, placing. 
 
 The curious, choice clove July-flower, 
 Whose kind, hight the carnation. 
 
 For sweetness of most sovereign power. 
 Shall help my wreath to fashion ; 
 
 Whose sundry colors of one kind. 
 
 First from one root derived, 
 Them in their several suits I 'II bind ; 
 
 My garland so contrived. 
 
 A course of cowslips then I '11 stick, 
 And here and there (so sparely) 
 
 The pleasant primrose down I'll prick. 
 Like pearls that will show rarely ; 
 
 Then with these marigolds I '11 make 
 My garland somewhat swelling ; 
 
 These honeysuckles then I 'II take. 
 
 Whose sweets shall help their smelling. 
 
 The lily and the fleur-de-lis. 
 
 For color much contending. 
 For that I them do only prize. 
 
 They arc but poor in scenting ; 
 
 The dafibdil most dainty is. 
 
 To match with these in meetness ; 
 , compared to this, 
 1 alike for sweetness. 
 
 These in their natures only are 
 Fit to emboss the border ; 
 
 Therefore I '11 take especial care 
 To place theni in their order : 
 
 Sweet-williams, campions, sops-in- 
 One by another neatly : 
 
 Thus have I made this wreath of i 
 And finished it featly. 
 
 BRYANT'S "SUMMER mND." 
 
 It is a sultry day ; the sun has drunk 
 The dew that lay upon the morning grass. 
 There is no rustling in the lofty elm 
 That canopies my dwelling, and its shade 
 Scarce cools me. All is silent save the faint 
 And interrupted murmur of the bee. 
 Settling on the sick flowers, and then again 
 Instantly on the wing. The plants around 
 Feel the too potent fervors ; the tall maize 
 Rolls up its long green leaves ; the clover droops 
 Its tender foliage, and declines its blooms. 
 But far in the fierce sunshine tower the hills. 
 With all their growth of woods, silent and stern, 
 As if the scorching heat and dazzling light 
 Were but an element they loved. Bright clouds. 
 Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven, — 
 Their bases on the mountains — their white tops 
 Shining in the far ether — fire the air 
 With a reflected radiance, and make turn 
 The gazer's eye away. For mo, I lie 
 Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf, 
 Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun. 
 Retains some freshness, and I woo the wind 
 That still delays its coming. Why so slow, 
 Gentle and voluble spirit of the air? 
 come and breathe upon the fainting earth 
 Coolness and life. Is it that in his caves 
 He hears me ? See, on yonder woody ridge. 
 The pine is bending his proud top, and now. 
 Among the nearer groves, chestnut and oak 
 Are tossing their green boughs about. He comes 
 Lo, where the grassy meadow runs in waves ! 
 The deep, distressful silence of the scene 
 Breaks up with mingling of unnumbered sounds 
 And universal motion. He is come. 
 Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs 
 And bearing on their fragrance ; and he brings 
 Music of birds, and rustling of young boughs, 
 And sound of swaying branches, and the voice 
 Of distant waterfalls. All the green herbs 
 Are stirring in his breath ; a thousand flowers. 
 By the road-side and the borders of the brook. 
 Nod gayly to each other ; glossy leaves 
 Are twinkling in the sun, as if the dew 
 Were on them yet, and silver waters break 
 Into small waves and sparkle as he comes. 
 
Uiniil's "anoniics 
 
 lASSLATEI) FUOM THE LATIN UY DRYDEN. 
 
 The poet. In the b. 
 ernl design of c 
 tion of all the f 
 ject, he address^; 
 
 to different soils, tiiii<- 
 gives a catalogue of tin 
 the employments jwculii 
 changes of the weatlier, 
 earth that forehwle them 
 
 safety of Augustus, and tlie preservation of Rome. 
 
 What makes a plenteous harvest, when to turn 
 The fruitful soil, and when to sow the corn ; 
 The caro of sheep, of oxen, and of kine ; 
 And how to raise on elms the teeming vine ; 
 The birth and genius of the frugal bee, 
 I sing, Maecenas, and I sing to thee. 
 
 Ye deities ! who fields and plains protect, 
 Who rule the seasons, and the year direct ; 
 Bacchus and fostering Ceres, powers divine, 
 Who gave us corn for mast, for water wine : 
 Ye fauns, propitious to the rural swains, 
 Ye nymphs that haunt the mountains and the plains. 
 Join in my work, and to my numbers bring 
 Your needful succor, for your gifts I sing. 
 And thou, whose trident struck the teeming earth, 
 And made a passage for the courser's birth ; 
 And thou, for whom the Cajan shore sustains 
 Thy milky herds, that graze the flowery plains : 
 And thou, the shepherd's tutelary god, 
 Leave, for a while, Pan ! thy loved abode ; 
 And, if Arcadian fleeces be thy care, 
 From fields and mountains to my song repair. 
 Inventor, Pallas, of the fattening oil. 
 Thou founder of the plough and ploughman's toil ; 
 And thou, whose hands the shroud-like cypress rear ; 
 Come, all ye gods and goddesses, that wear 
 The rural honors, and increase the year. 
 Yon, who supply the ground with seeds of grain ; 
 And you, who swell those seeds with kindly rain : 
 
 INVOCATION TO THB EMPKBOR AUGt^STCS, A3 A DHTY. 
 
 And chiefly thou,' whoso undetermined state 
 Is yet the business of the gods' debate ; 
 
 ' The Roman emperor, Octavius Ccesar Augustus. 
 
 Whether in after-times to bo declared 
 The patron of the world, and Rome's peculiar gtiard. 
 Or o'er the fruits and seasons to preside, 
 And the round circuit of the year to guide ; 
 Powerful of blessings which thou strew'st around, 
 And with thy goddess mother's myrtle crowned. 
 Or wilt thou, Ca'sar, choose the watery reign, 
 To smooth the surges, and correct the main ? 
 Then mariners, in storms, to thee shall pray, 
 Even utmost Thule shall thy power obey ; 
 And Neptune shall resign the fasces of the sea. 
 The watery virgins for thy bed shall strive, 
 And Tcthys all her waves in dowry give. 
 Or wilt thou bless our summers with thy rays, 
 And, seated near the balance, poise the days : 
 Where in the void of heaven a space is free, 
 Betwixt the scorpion and the maid, for thee. 
 The scorpion, ready to receive thy law.<, 
 
 Thy mind, to leave thy kindred gods above. 
 
 Though Greece admires Elysium's blest retreat. 
 
 Though Proserpine affects her silent seat, 
 
 And, importuned by Ceres to remove, 
 
 Prefers the fields below to those above. 
 
 But thou, propitious Caesar ! guide my course. 
 
 And to my bold. endeavors add thy force. 
 
 Pity the poet's and the ploughman's cares. 
 
 Interest thy greatness in our mean affairs, 
 
 And use thyself betimes to hear and grant our prayers. 
 
 While yet the spring is young, while earth unbinds 
 Iler frozen bosom to the western mnds ; 
 While mountain-snows dissolve against the sun, 
 And streams, yet new, from precipices run ; 
 Even in this early dawning of the year. 
 Produce the plough, and yoke the sturdy steer, 
 And goad him till ho groans beneath his toil, 
 Till the bright share is buried in the soil. 
 That crop rewards the greedy peasant's pains, 
 Which twice the sun and twice the cold sustains, 
 And bursts the crowded bams with more than 
 promised gains. 
 
 But ere we stir the yet unbroken ground, 
 The various coarse of seasons must be found ; 
 The weather, and the setting of the winds. 
 The culture suiting to the several kinds 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Of seeds and plants, and what will thrive and rise, 
 
 And what the genius of the soil denies. 
 
 This ground with Bacchus, that with Ceres suits ; 
 
 That other loads the trees with happy fruits ; 
 
 A fourth with gross, unbidden, decks the ground : 
 
 Thus Tmolus is with yellow saffron crowned ; 
 
 India black ebon and white ivory bears ; 
 
 And soft Idume weeps her od'rous tears. 
 
 Thus Pontus sends her beaver stones from far ; 
 
 And naked Spaniards temper steel for war. 
 
 Epirus for the Elean chariot breeds 
 
 (In hopes of palms) a race of running steeds. 
 
 This is the original contract ; these the laws 
 
 Imposed by nature, and by nature's cause, 
 
 On sundry places, when Deucalion hurled 
 
 His mother's entrails on the desert world : 
 
 Whence men, a hard, laborious kind, were bom. 
 
 WHEN, HOW, AND WHAT TO PLOOOH. 
 
 ■ Then borrow part of winter for thy corn ; 
 And early with thy team the glebe in furrows turn. 
 That while the turf lies open and unbound, 
 Succeeding suns may bake the mellow ground. 
 But if the soil be barren, only scar 
 The surface, and but lightly print the share. 
 When cold Arcturus rises with the sun : 
 Lest wicked weeds the corn should over-run 
 In watery soils ; or lest the barren sand 
 Should suck the moisture from the thirsty land. 
 
 FALLOWS. — ROTATION. — ASHES. 
 
 Both these unhappy soils the swain forbears. 
 And keeps a sabbath of alternate years : 
 That the spent earth may gather heart again ; 
 And, bettered by cessation, bear the grain. 
 At least, where vetches, pulse, and tares, have stood, 
 And stalks of lupines grew (a stubborn wood) : 
 The ensuing season, in return, maybear 
 The bearded product of the golden year. 
 For fla.\ and oats will burn the tender field. 
 And sleepy poppies harmful harvests yield. 
 But sweet vicissitudes of rest and toil 
 Make easy labor, and renew the soil. 
 Yet sprinkle sordid ashes all around, 
 And load'with fattening dung thy fallow ground. 
 Thus change of seeds for meagre soils is best ; 
 And earth manured, not idle, though at rest. 
 
 Lest soaking showers should pierce her secret seat. 
 Or freezing Boreas chill her genial heat ; 
 Or scorching suns too violently beat. 
 
 SOILS SBOCLn Bi WELL PULVERIZED. 
 
 Nor is the profit small the peasant makes, [rakes, 
 Who smoothes with harrows, or who pounds with 
 The crumbling clod : nor Ceres from on high 
 Regards his labors with a grudging eye ; 
 Nor his, who ploughs across the furrowed grounds, 
 And on the back of earth inflicts new wounds ; 
 For he with frequent exercise commands 
 The unwilling soil, and tames the stubborn lands. 
 
 Long practice has a sure improvement lound. 
 With kindled fires to burn the barren ground ; 
 When the light stubble, to the flames resigned, 
 Is driven along, and crackles in the wind. 
 Whether from hence the hollow womb of earth 
 Is warmed with secret strength for better birth ; 
 Or when the latent vice is cured by fire. 
 Redundant humors through the pores expire ; 
 Or that the warmth distends the chinks, and makes 
 New breathings, whence new nourishment she takes ; 
 Or that the heat the gaping ground constrains. 
 New knits the surface, and new strings the veins. 
 
 Ye swains, invoke the powers who rule the sky. 
 For a moist summer, and a winter dry : 
 For winter drought rewards the peasant's pain. 
 And broods indulgent on the buried grain. 
 Hence Mysia boasts her harvests, and the tops 
 Of Gargarus admire their happy crops. 
 When first the soil receives the fruitful seed. 
 Make no delay, but cover it with speed : 
 So fenced from cold ; the pliant furrows break, 
 Before the surly clod resists the rake. 
 And call the floods from high, to rush amain 
 With pregnant streams, to swell the teeming grain. 
 Then when the fiery suns too fiercely play. 
 And shrivelled herbs on withering stems decay, 
 The wary ploughman, on the mountain's brow, 
 Undams his watery stores, huge torrents flow ; 
 And, rattling down the rocks, large moisture yield, 
 Tempering the thirsty fever of the field. 
 
 FEEDINQ DOWN THE WHEAT. — DRAINING. — UEESE, CRANES, 
 
 And lest the stem, too feeble for the freight. 
 Should scarce sustain the head's unwieldy weight, 
 Sends in his feeding flocks betimes to invade 
 The rising bulk of the luxuriant blade ; 
 Ere yet the aspiring offspring of the grain 
 O'ertops the ridges of the furrowed plain : 
 And drains the standing waters, when they yield 
 Too large a beverage to the drunken field. 
 But most in autumn, and the showery spring, 
 \\ lull tlul.iiius niunths uncertain weather bring ; 
 W hrii |niiiit;iiii- npt'ii, aud impctuous rain 
 ^Hrll- lia Iv lii.inks, uud pouTS upou tlic plain ; 
 Wlieii eaitli with slime and mud is covered o'er. 
 Or hollow places spew their wat'ry store. 
 Nor yet the ploughman, nor the laboring steer. 
 Sustain alone the hazards of the year ; 
 But glutton geese, and the Strymonian crane, 
 With foreign troops, invade the tender grain : 
 And towering weeds malignant shadows yield ; 
 And spreading succory chokes the rising field. 
 
 The sii 
 Forbids ( 
 
 of gods and men, with hard decrees, 
 • plenty to be bought with ease : 
 
SUMMER — JULY. 
 
 209 
 
 And wills that mortal men, inured to toil, 
 Should oxcrcise, with pains, the grudging soil. 
 Himself invented first tho shining share. 
 And whetted human industry by care : 
 Himself did handicrafts and arts ordain ; 
 Nor suffered sloth to rust bis active reign. 
 Ere this, no peasant vexed the peaceful ground ; 
 Which only turfs and greens for altars found : 
 No fences parted fields, nor marks nor bounds 
 Distinguished acres of litigious grounds : 
 But all was common, and tho fruitful earth 
 Was free to give her unexactod birth. 
 
 Jovo added venom to the viper's brood, 
 And swelled, with raging storms, tho peaceful flood 
 Commissioned hungry wolves to infest the fold, 
 •And shook from oaken leaves the liquid gold. 
 Removed from human reach the cheerful fire, 
 And from the rivers bade the wine retire : 
 That studious need might useful arts explore ; 
 From furrowed fields to reap the fruitful store : 
 And force the veins of clashing flints to expire 
 The lurking seeds of their celestial fire. 
 
 Then first on seas tho hollowed alder swam ; 
 Then sailors quartered heaven, and found a name 
 For every fixed and every wandering star : 
 The Pleiads, Hyads, and the Northern Car. 
 Then toils for beasts, and lime for birds, were found. 
 And deep-mouthed dogs did forest walks surround : 
 And casting-nets were spread in shallow brooks, 
 Drags in the deep, and baits were hung on hooks. 
 Then saws were toothed, and sounding axes made 
 (For wedges first did yielding wood invade). 
 And various arts in order did succeed : — 
 What cannot endless labor, urged by need ? — 
 
 First Ceres taught, the ground with grain to sow, 
 And armed with iron shares the crooked plough ; 
 When now Dodonian oaks no more supplied 
 Their mast, and trees their forest fruit denied. 
 Soon was his labor doubled to the swain. 
 And blasting mildews blackened all his grain. 
 Tough thistles choked the fields, and killed tho com, 
 And an unthrifty crop of weeds was born. 
 Then burs and brambles, an unbidden crew 
 Of graceless guests, tho unhappy fields subdue : 
 And oats unblest and darnel domineers, 
 And shoots its hea^l above tho shining cars. 
 So that unless the land with daily care 
 Is exercised, and with an iron war 
 Of rakes and harrows the proud foes expelled, 
 And birds with clamors frighted from the field ; 
 Unless the boughs are lopped that shade the plain, 
 And heaven invoked with vows for fruitful rain. 
 On other crops you may with envy look, 
 And shako for food the long-abandoned oak. 
 
 Nor must we pass untold what arms they wield, 
 Who labor tillage and the furrowed field : 
 Without whose aid the ground her corn denies. 
 And nothing can h« sown, and nothing rise. 
 The crooked plough, tho share, tho towering height 
 Of wagons, and the cart's unwieldy weight ; 
 The sled, the tumbril, hurdles, and the flail. 
 The fan of Bacchus, with tho flying sail. 
 These all must be prepared, if ploughmen hope 
 The promised blessing of a bounteous crop. 
 
 Young elms with early force in copses bow. 
 Fit for the figure of the crooked plough. 
 Of eight feet long a fastened beam prepare. 
 On either side the head produce an car. 
 And sink a socket for tho shining share. 
 Of beech the plough-tail, and the bending yoke ; 
 Or softer linden hardened in tho smoke. 
 I could bo long in precepts, but I fear 
 So mean a subject might ofi'end your oar. 
 
 FIBLD-MOrSE, MOLE, WEASEL, AST. 
 
 Delve (if convenient depth your threshing-floor 
 With tempered clay then fill and face it o'er : 
 And lot the weighty roller run the rouud, 
 To smooth the surface of the unequal ground ; 
 Lest, cracked with summer heats, the flooring flic 
 Or sinks, and through the crannies weeds arise. 
 For sundry foes the rural realms surround : 
 The field-mouse builds her garner under ground. 
 For gathered grain the blind, laborious mole 
 In winding mazes works her hidden hole. 
 In hollow caverns vermin make abode. 
 The his.Ming serpent, and tho swelling toad : 
 Tho corn-devouring weasel here abides. 
 And the wise ant her wintry store provides. 
 
 Mark well the flowering almonds in the wood ; 
 If odorous blooms the bearing branches load, 
 The glebe will answer to the sylvan reign. 
 Great heats will follow, and large crops of grain 
 But if a wood of leaves o'ershadc tho tree. 
 Such and so barren will thy harvest bo : 
 In vain the hind shall vex the threshing-floor, 
 For empty chaff and straw will be thy store. 
 
 I PREPARATION ( 
 
 - DOWNWARD TKSPKSCY 
 
 Some steep their seed, and somo in cauldrons boil 
 With vigorous nitre, and with lees of oil. 
 O'er gentle fires ; the exuberant juice to drain. 
 And swell tho flattering husks with fruitful grain. 
 Yet is not the success for years assured. 
 Though chosen is the seed, and fully cured ; 
 Unless the peasant, with his annual pain. 
 Renews his choice, and culls the largest grain. 
 
 27 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Thus all below, whether by nature's curse, 
 Or fate's decree, degenerate still to worse. 
 So the boat's brawny crew the current stem, 
 And, slow advancing, struggle with the stream : 
 But if they slack their hands, or cease to strive. 
 Then down the flood with headlong haste they dri 
 
 Nor must the ploughman less observe the skies, 
 When the Kids, Dragon, and Arcturus rise. 
 Than sailors homeward bent, who cut their way 
 Through Helle's stormy straits, and oyster-breeding 
 But when Astraa's Balance, hung on high, [sea. 
 Betwi.'it the nights and days divides the sky, 
 Then yoke your oxen, sow your winter grain ; 
 Till cold December comes with driving rain. 
 Linseed and fruitful poppy bury warm, 
 In a dry season, and prevent the storm. 
 Sow beans and clover in a rotten soil, 
 And millet, rising from your annual toil : 
 When with his golden horns, in full career, 
 The Bull beats down the barriers of the year ; 
 And Argos and the Dog forsake the northern sphere. 
 
 But if your care to wheat alone extend. 
 Let Maia with her sisters first descend. 
 And the bright Gnosian diadem downward bend ; 
 Before you trust in earth your future hope : 
 Or else expect a listless, lazy crop. 
 Some swains have sown before, but most have found 
 A husky harvest from the grudging ground. 
 Vile vetches would you sow, or lentils lean, 
 The growth of Egypt, or the kidney bean ? 
 Begin when the slow Wagoner descends ; 
 Nor cease your sowing till mid-winter ends. 
 
 THE nVE ZONES, OE CLIMATES; THE TWO HABITABLE 
 ZONES. 
 
 For this, through twelve bright signs Apollo guides 
 The ycMi, ^itmI niith in several climes divides. 
 Five "it<ll<-- iiiii'l ilir -l.ifs, the torrid zone 
 Glows Willi ill. |i;.--iii- iiud repassing sun. 
 Far on the right and left, the extremes of heaven 
 To frosts and snows and bitter blasts are given. 
 Betwixt the midst and these, the gods assigned 
 Two habitable seats for human-kind : 
 And cross their limits cut a sloping way, 
 Which the twelve signs in beauteous order sway. 
 Two poles turn round the globe ; one seen to rise 
 O'er Scythian hills, and one in Libyan skies. 
 The first sublime in heaven, the last is whirled 
 Below the regions of the nether world. 
 
 There, as they say, perpetual night is found. 
 In silence brooding on the unhappy ground : 
 Or when Aurora leaves our northern sphere, 
 She lights the downward heaven, and rises there. 
 And when on us she breathes the living light, 
 Ked Vesper kindles there the tapers of the night. 
 
 From hence uncertain seasons we may know ; 
 And when to reap the grain, and when to sow : 
 Or when to fell the furzes ; when 't is meet 
 To spread the flying canvas for the fleet. 
 Observe what stars arise, or disappear ; 
 And the four quarters of the rolling year. 
 But when cold weather, and continued rain. 
 The laboring husband in his house restrain ; 
 Let him forecast his work with timely care. 
 Which else is huddled, when the skies are fair : 
 Then let him mark the sheep, or whet the shining 
 Or hollow trees for boats, or number o'er [share. 
 His sacks, or measure his increasing store ; 
 Or sharpen stakes, or head the forks, or twine 
 The sallow twigs to tie the straggling vine ; 
 Or wicker baskets weave, or air the corn, 
 Or grinded grain betwixt two marbles turn. 
 No laws, divine or human, can restrain 
 From necessary works the laboring swain. 
 
 Even holidays and feasts permission yield, 
 To float the meadows, or to fence the field, 
 To fire the brambles, snare the birds, and steep 
 In wholesome water-falls the woolly sheep. 
 And oft the drudging ass is driven, with toil. 
 To neighboring towns with apples and with oil : 
 Returning late and laden home with gain 
 Of bartered pit«h, and hand-mills for the grain. 
 
 NOBTHEBN SIGNS 
 
 nRAGON, THE 
 
 Around our pole the spiry Dragon glides. 
 And like a winding stream the Bears divides ; 
 The less and greater, who, by fate's decree, 
 Abhor to dive beneath the southern sea ; 
 
 The lucky days, in each revolving moon. 
 For labor choose ; the fifth be sure to shun : 
 That gave the Furies and pale Pluto birth. 
 And armed against the skies the sons of earth. 
 With mountains piled on mountains, thrice they 
 To scale the steepy battlements of Jove : [strove 
 And thrice his lightning and red thunder played. 
 And their demolished works in ruin laid. 
 The seventh is, next the tenth, the best to join 
 Young oxen to the yoke, and plant the vine. 
 Then weavers stretch your stays upon the weft : 
 The ninth is good for travel, bad for theft. 
 
 Some works in dead of night are better done ; 
 Or when the morning dew prevents the sun. 
 Parched meads and stubble mow, by Phoebe's light ; 
 Which both require the coolness of the night ; 
 For moisture then abounds, and pearly rains 
 Descend in silence to refresh the plains. 
 The wife and husband equally conspire, 
 To work by night, and rake the winter fire . 
 
SUMMER — JULY. 
 
 Ho sharpens torches in the glimmering room : 
 She shoots the flying shuttle through the loom ; 
 Or boiN in kettles must of wino, and skims 
 AVith leaves the dregs that overflow the brims. 
 And, till the watchful cock awakes the day, 
 She sings to drive the tedious hours away. 
 
 But in warm weather, when tho skies are clear. 
 By daylight reap tho product of the year : 
 And in tho sun your golden grain display, 
 And thresh it out, and winnow it by day. 
 Plough naked, swain, and naked sow tho land. 
 For lazy Winter numbs the laboring hand. 
 In genial Winter swains enjoy their store. 
 Forget their hardships, and recruit for more. 
 The farmer to full bowls invites his friends. 
 And what ho got with pains, with pleasure spends. 
 So sailors, when escaped from stormy seas. 
 First crown their vessels, then indulge their ease. 
 
 Yet that's the proper time to thresh the wood 
 For mast of oak, your father's homely food ; 
 To gather laurel-berries, and the spoil 
 Of bloody myrtles, and to press your oil : 
 For stalking cranes to set the guileful snare, 
 To enclose the stags in toils, and hunt tho hare : 
 With Balearic slings, or Gnossian bow, 
 To persecute from far tho flying doe, 
 Then, when the fleecy skies new-clothe the wood, 
 And cakes of rustling ice come rolling down the 
 flood. 
 
 F-ARUBb'S work for ACTCMS ISD srw.vo ; RilSS. 
 
 Now sing we stormy stars, when Autumn weighs 
 The year, and adds to nights, and shortens days ; 
 And suns declining shine with feeble rays : 
 What cares must then attend the toiling swain ; 
 Or when the lowering Spring, with lavish rain, 
 Beats down the slender stem and bearded grain : 
 While yet the head is green, or, lightly swelled 
 With milky moisture, overlooks the field. 
 
 Ev'n when the farmer, now secure of fear. 
 Sends in the swains to spoil the finished year : 
 Ev'n while the reaper fills his greedy hands, 
 And binds the golden sheaves in brittle bands : 
 Oft have I seen a sudden storm arise. 
 From all the warring winds that sweep tho skies : 
 Tho heavy harvest from tho root is torn. 
 And whirled aloft the lighter stubble borne ; 
 With such a force tho flying rack is driven, 
 And such a winter wears the face of heaven : 
 And oft whole sheets descend of sluicy rain. 
 Sucked by the spongy clouds from off the main : 
 Tho lofty skies at once come pouring down, 
 Tho promised crop and golden labors drown. 
 
 I Tho dikes aro filled, and with a roaring sound 
 The rising rivers float the nether ground ; [bound. 
 And rooks tho bellowing voice of boiling seas re- 
 Tho father of tho gods his glory shrouds ; 
 Involved in tempests, and a night of clouds. 
 And from tho middle darkness flashing out. 
 By fits he deals his fiery bolts about. 
 Earth feels the motion of her angry god. 
 Her entrails tremble, and her mountains nod ; 
 And flying beasts in forests seek abode : 
 Deep horror seizes every human breast. 
 Their pride is humbled, and their fear confessed ; 
 While ho from high his rolling thunder throws, 
 And fires the mountains with repeated blows : 
 The rooks are from their old foundations rent ; 
 The winds redouble, and tho rains augment : 
 The waves in heaps are dashed against the shore. 
 And now the woods, and now tho billows roar. 
 
 i TO CEIira IS SPRING ASD 
 
 In fear of this, observe the starry signs ; 
 Where Saturn houses, and where Hermes joins. 
 But first to heaven thy due devotions pay. 
 And annual gifts on Ceres' altars lay. 
 When Winter's rage abates, when cheerful honrs 
 Awake the Spring, and Spring awakes the flowers, 
 On the green turf thy careless limbs display, 
 And celebrate the Mighty Mother's day. 
 For then the hills with plca«in;; shades are crowned, 
 Aiiil -Ii ' I- .'ir -n< ■ tn' ' n till -liken ground : 
 
 \\\:'' : I. I i . ;- i' . iiroly shines ; 
 
 I-:, I I , . : II- Mro the wines. 
 
 And milk and honey mix with sparkling wine : 
 Let all the choir of clowns attend the show. 
 In long processions, shouting as they go ; 
 Invoking her to bless their yearly stores, 
 Inviting plenty to their crowded floors. 
 Thus in the Spring, and thus in Summer's heat, 
 Before the sickles touch the ripening wheat. 
 On Cores call ; and let the laboring hind 
 With oaken wreaths his hollow temples bind : 
 On Ceres let him call, and Ceres praise. 
 With uncouth dances, and with country lays. 
 
 COOTS, IIRBOSS, SBOOnxO-STARS, CHAFF, inU.NDKR FROM 
 lUE NORTH. 
 
 And that by certain signs wo may presage 
 Of heats and rains, and wind's impetuous rage. 
 The Sovereign of the heavens has set on high 
 The moon, to mark the changes of the sky : [swain 
 When southern blasts should cease, and when tho 
 Should near their folds his feeding flocks restrain. 
 For ere the rising winds begin to roar, 
 Tho working seas advance to wash tho shore : 
 Soft whispers run along the leafy woods, 
 And mountains whistle to the murmuring floods : 
 Ev'n then the doubtful billows scarce abstain 
 From the tossed vessel on the troubled main : 
 
212 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — VIRGIL. 
 
 When crying cormorants forsake the sea, 
 And stretching to the covert wing their way ; 
 When sportful coots run skimming o'er tbe strand ; 
 When watchful herons leave their watery stand, 
 And, mounting upward with erected flight, 
 Gain on the skies, and soar above the sight. 
 And oft, before tempestuous winds arise, 
 The seeming stars fall headlong from the skies ; 
 And, shooting through the darkness, gild the night 
 With sweeping glories, and long trails of light : 
 And chaff with eddy winds is whirled around. 
 And dancing leaves are lifted from the ground ; 
 And floating feathers on the waters play. 
 But when the winged thunder takes his way 
 From the cold north, and east and west engage. 
 And at the frontiers meet with equal rage, 
 The clouds are crushed, a glut of gathered rain 
 The hollow ditches fills, and floats the plain, 
 And sailors furl their dropping sheets amain. 
 
 Wet weather seldom hurts the most unwise. 
 So plain the signs, such prophets are the skies : 
 The wary crane foresees it first, and sails 
 Above the storm, and leaves the lowly vales : 
 The cow looks up, and from afar can find 
 The change of heaven, and snuffs it in the wind. 
 The swallow skims the river's watery face ; 
 The frogs renew the croaks of their loquacious race. 
 The careful ant her secret cell forsakes, 
 And drags her eggs along the narrow tracks. 
 At either horn the rainbow drinks tbe flood ; 
 Huge flocks of rising rooks forsake their food, 
 And, crying, seek the shelter of the wood. 
 Besides the several sorts of wiitery fowls, 
 That swim the seas, or haunt the standing pools : 
 The swans that sail along the silver flood ; 
 Dive without stretching necks to search their food, 
 Then lave their backs with sprinkling dews in vain, 
 And stem the stream to meet the promised rain. 
 The crow with clamorous cries the shower demands, 
 And single stalks along the desert sands. 
 The nightly virgin, while her wheel she plies, 
 I Foresees the storm impending in the skies, 
 I When sparkling lamps their sputtering light advance. 
 And in the sockets oily bubbles dance. 
 
 Then, after showers, 't is easy to descry 
 Returning suns, and a serener sky : 
 The stars shine smarter, and the moon adorns. 
 As with unborrowed beams, her sharpened horns. 
 The filmy gossamer now flits no more, 
 Nor halcyons bask on the short, sunny shore : 
 Their litter is not tossed by sows unclean ; 
 ]Jut a blue, droughty mist descends upon the plaii 
 And owls, that mark the setting sun, declare 
 A star-light evening, and a morning fair. 
 Towering aloft, avenging Nisus flies. 
 
 While dared below the guilty Scylla lies. 
 Wherever frightened Scylla flies away, 
 Swift Nisus follows, and pursues his prey. 
 MTiere injured Nisus takes his airy course, 
 Thence trembling Scylla flies, and shuns his force. 
 This punishment pursues the unhappy maid, 
 And thus the purple hair is dearly paid. 
 Then, thrice the ravens rend the liquid nir. 
 And croaking notes proclaim the settled fair. 
 Then, round their airy palaces they fly, 
 To greet the sun ; and, seized with secret joy, 
 When storms are over-blown, with food repair 
 To their forsaken nests, and callow care. 
 Not that I think their breasts with heavenly souls 
 Inspired, as man, who destiny controls. 
 But with the changeful temper of the skies, 
 As rains condense, and sunshine rarefies ; 
 So turn the species in their altered minds. 
 Composed by calms, and discomposed by winds. 
 From hence proceeds the birds' harmonious voice : 
 From hence the cows exult, and frisking lambs 
 rejoice. 
 
 Observe the daily circle of the sun. 
 And the short year of each revolving moon : 
 By them thou shalt foresee the following day ; 
 Nor shall a starry night thy hopes betray. 
 When first the moon appears, if then she shrouds 
 Her silver crescent, tipped with sable clouds. 
 Conclude she bodes a tempest on the main. 
 And brews for fields impetuous floods of rain. 
 Or if her face with fiery flushing glow. 
 Expect the rattling winds aloft to blow. 
 But four nights old (for that's the surest sign). 
 With sharpened horns if glorious then she shine ; 
 Next day, nor only that, but all the moon, 
 Till her revolving race be wholly run, 
 Are void of tempests, both by land and sea, 
 And sailors in the port their promised vows shall pay. 
 
 WEATHER SIGNS BY THE RISISG SUS. 
 
 Above the rest, the sun, who never lies, 
 Foretells the change of weather in the skies : 
 For if he rise unwilling to his race, 
 Clouds on his brow, and spots upon his face ; 
 Or if through mists he shoots his sullen beams, 
 Frugal of light, in loose and straggling streams : 
 Suspect a drizzling day, with southern rain, 
 Fatal to fruits, and flocks, and promised grain. 
 Or if Aurora, with half-opened eyes. 
 And a pale sickly check, salute the skies ; 
 How shall the vine, with tender leaves, defend 
 Her teeming clusters, when the storms descend? 
 AVhen ridgy roofs and tiles can scarce avail 
 To bar the ruin of the rattling hail. 
 
 But, more than all, the setting sun survey, 
 When down the steep of heaven he drives the day. 
 For oft we find him finishing his race. 
 With various colors erring on his face ; 
 
SUMMER — JULY. 
 
 218 
 
 If fiory red hia glowing globo descends, 
 
 High winds and furious tempests bo portends : 
 
 But ifliis ohcoks aro swoln with livid blue, 
 
 Ho bodes wet woathor by his wiitry huo ; 
 
 If dusky spots aro varied on his brow, 
 
 And streaked with rod, a troubled color show ; 
 
 That sullen mixture shall at unco declare 
 
 Winds, rain, and storms, and elemental war. 
 
 What desperate madman then would venture o'er 
 
 Tbo frith, or haul his cables frt)m the shore ? 
 
 But if with purple rays he brings tho light, 
 
 And a pure heaven resigns to quiet night ; 
 
 No rising winds, or falling storms, are nigh ; 
 
 But northern breezes through the forest fly, 
 
 And drive tho rack, and purge the ruffled sky. 
 
 Tho unerring sun by certain signs declares 
 
 What the late ev'n, or early morn, prepares : 
 
 And when tho south projects a stormy day, [away. 
 
 And when tho clearing north will pufif the clouds 
 
 Tho sun reveals the secrets of the sky ; 
 And who dares give the source of light the lie? 
 Tho change of empires often he declares. 
 Fierce tumults, hidden treasons, open wars. 
 He first the fate of Caesar did foretell. 
 And pitied Rome, when Rome in Ciesar fell ; 
 In iron clouds concealed tho public light ; 
 And impious mortals feared eternal night. 
 
 Nor was the fact foretold by him alone : 
 Nature herself stood forth, and seconded tho sun. 
 Earth, air, and seas, with prodigies were signed, 
 And birds obscene, and howling dogs divined. 
 What rocks did ^Etna's bellowing mouth expire 
 From her torn entrails ; and what floods of fire ! 
 What clanks were heard, in German skies afar, ' 
 Of arms and armies, rushing to the war ! 
 Dire earthquakes rent tho solid Alps below. 
 And from their summits shook the eternal snow : 
 Pale spectres in the close of night were seen. 
 And voices heard of more than mortal men. 
 In silent groves, dumb sheep and oxen spoke. 
 And streams ran backward, and their beds forsook : 
 The yawning earth disclosed the abyss of hell : 
 The weeping statues did the wars foretell ; 
 And holy sweat from brazen idols fell. 
 
 MACEDONIA ; PLOCUUING UP OK BATTLB RELICS. 
 
 Then, rising in his might, the king of floods 
 Hushed through tho forests, tore the lofty woods ; 
 And rolling onward, with a swoepy sway. 
 Bore houses, herds, and laboring hinds, away. 
 Blood sprang from wells, wolves howled in towns by 
 And boding victims did tho priests affright, [night. 
 Such peals of thunder never poured from high, 
 Nor forky lightnings flashed from such a sullen sky. 
 Red meteors ran across tho ethereal space ; 
 Stars disappeared, and oometa took their plaoo. 
 For this tho Kmathian plains once more were strewed 
 
 With Roman bodies, and just Heaven thought good 
 To fatten twice those fields with Roman blood. 
 Then, aftor length of time, tho laboring swains. 
 Who turn tho turfs of those unhappy plains. 
 Shall rusty piles from tho ploughed furrows take, 
 And over empty hebnets pass tho rake. 
 Amazed at antique titles on tho stones, 
 And mighty relies of gigantic bones. 
 
 ADrtATlOS OF ACOOSTCS AS A OOD. 
 
 Ye homc-born deities, of mortal birth ! 
 Thou, father Romulus, and mother Earth, 
 Goddess unmoved ! whose guardian arras extend 
 O'er Tuscan Tiber's course, and Roman towers defend; 
 With youthful Casar your joint powers engage. 
 Nor hinder him to save the sinking ago. 
 ! let the blood, already spilt, atono 
 For the past crimes of curst Laomedon ! [know. 
 Heaven wants thee there, and long the gods, w© 
 Have grudged thee, Cffisar, to the world below : 
 Whore fraud and rapino right and wrong confound; 
 Whore impious arms from every part resound. 
 And monstrous crimes in every shape are crowned. 
 
 THB HORRORS OF WAR J IT DRAGS ! 
 
 Tho peaceful peasant to the wai 
 The fields lie fallow in inglorious rest : 
 Tho plain no pasture tu tli-' tlmk ;iilni.ls. 
 The crooked scythes an- -tii i_-liii ni ,1 mt > swords : 
 And there Euphrates li<r -■ ii .ii-pnn:; ;irnis. 
 And hero the Rhine rcbclluw; wiiU .iLums ; 
 The neighboring cities range on several .sirlcs. 
 Perfidious Mars long plighted leagues divides. 
 And o'er the wasted world in triumph rides. 
 So four fierce coursers, startiug to tho race. 
 Scour through the plain, and lengthen every pace : 
 Nor reins, nor curbs, nor threatening cries, they fear, 
 But force along the trembling charioteer. 
 
 The sutypct of the followinR book is planting. In handling 
 of which nrmunent the poet shows all the different methods 
 of raisitiK trees \ describes their variety ; and Rives rules 
 for the mjiniipfment of each in particular. He then points 
 
 TO RCIS. 
 
 I preat ; 
 
 k country life. 
 
 THB 8UBJSCT. — THB TISB, TRK8S, TUB OLIVE. 
 
 Thus far of tillage, and of heavenly signs ; 
 Now sing, my muse, the growth of generous vines : 
 The shady groves, tho woodland progeny. 
 And tho slow product of Minerva's tree. 
 
 Great father Bacchus ! to my song repair ; 
 For clustering grapes aro thy peculiar care : 
 For thee large bunchos load tho bending vine, 
 And tho last blessings of the year are thine ; 
 
214 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 To thee his joys the jolly Autumn owes, 
 When the fermenting juice the vat o'erflows. 
 Come, strip with me, my god, come drench all o'er 
 Thy limbs in must of wine, and drink at every pore. 
 
 Some trees their birth to bounteous nature owe 
 For some without the pains of planting grow. 
 AVith osiers thus the banks of brooks abound. 
 Sprung from the watery genius of the ground : 
 From the same principle gray willows come ; 
 Herculean poplar, and the tender broom. 
 But some from seeds enclosed in earth arise ; 
 For thus the mastful chestnut mates the skies. 
 Hence rise the branching beech and vocal oak, 
 Where Jove of old oraculously spoke. 
 Some from the root a rising wood disclose ; 
 Thus elms and thus the savage cherry grows : 
 Thus the green bay, that binds the poet's brows, 
 Shoots, and is sheltered by the mother's boughs. 
 
 These ways of planting Nature did ordain, 
 For trees and shrubs, and all the sylvan reign. 
 Others there are, by late experience found : 
 Some cut the shoots, and plant in furrowed ground : 
 Some cover rooted stalks in deeper mould : 
 Some cloven stakes, and (wondrous to behold) 
 Their sharpened ends in earth their footing place, 
 And the dry poles produce a living race. 
 Some bow their vines, which, buried in the plain, 
 Their tops in distant arches rise again. 
 Others no root require, the lab'rer cuts 
 Young slips, and in the soil securely puts. 
 Even stumps of olives, bared of leaves, and dead, 
 Revive, and oft redeem their withered head. 
 'T is usual now an inmate graft" to see 
 With insolence invade a foreign tree : 
 Thus pears and quinces from the crab-tree come ; 
 And thus the ruddy cornel bears the plum. 
 
 ADVANTAGES OF BOTANICAL KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Then let the learned gardener mark with care 
 The kinds of stocks, and what those kinds will bear; 
 Explore the nature of each several tree ; 
 And known, improve with artful industry ; 
 And let no spot of idle earth be found. 
 But cultivate the genius of the ground. 
 For open Ismarus will Bacchus please ; 
 Taburnus loves the shade of olive-trees. 
 
 The virtues of the several soils I sing, 
 Maecenas, now thy needful succor bring ! 
 0, thou ! the better part of my renown, 
 Inspire thy poet, and thy poem crown ; 
 Embark with me while I new tracks explore. 
 With flying sails and breezes from the shore : 
 Not that my song, in such a scanty space, 
 So large a subject fully can embrace : 
 Not though I were supplied with iron lungs, 
 A hundred mouths, filled with as many tongues : 
 
 But steer my vessel with a steady hand. 
 And coast along the shore in sight of land. 
 Nor will I tire thy patience with a train 
 Of preface, or what ancient poets feign. 
 
 SPONTANEOUS TREES TO BE CORRECTED BV CULTCBB 
 
 The trees which of themselves advance in air 
 Are barren kinds, but strongly built and fair : 
 Because the vigor of the native earth 
 Maintains the plant, and makes a manly birth. 
 Yet these, receiving grafts of other kind. 
 Or thence transplanted, change their savage mind ; 
 Their wildness lose, and, quitting nature's part. 
 Obey the rules and discipline of art. 
 The same do trees, that, sprung from barren roots 
 In open fields, transplanted bear their fruits. 
 For where they grow, the native energy 
 Turns all into the substance of the tree. 
 Starves and destroys the fruit, is only made 
 For brawny bulk, and for a barren shade. 
 The plant that shoots from seed a sullen tree 
 At leisure grows, for late posterity ; 
 The generous flavor lost, the fruits decay, 
 And savage grapes are made the birds' ignoble prey. 
 
 Much labor is required in trees, to tame 
 Their wild disorder, and in ranks reclaim. 
 Well must the ground be digged, and better dressed. 
 New soil to make, and meliorate the rest. 
 Old stakes of olive-trees in plants revive ; 
 By the same methods Paphian myrtles live : 
 But nobler vines by propagation thrive. 
 From roots hard hazels, and from scions rise 
 Tall ash and taller oak that mates the skies ; 
 Palm, poplar, fir, descending from the steep 
 Of hills, to try the dangers of the deep. 
 The thin-leaved arbute hazel-grafis receives, 
 And planes huge apples bear, that bore but leaves. 
 Thus mastful beech the bristly chestnut bears, 
 And the wild ash is white with blooming pears ; 
 And greedy swine from grafted elms are fed 
 With falling acorns, that on oaks are bred. 
 
 BUDDING. GRAFTING, INOCULATION, ETC. 
 
 But various are the ways to change the state 
 Of plants, to bud, to graff, t' inoculate. 
 For where the tender rinds of trees disclose 
 Their shooting gems, a swelling knot there grows ; 
 Just in that space a narrow slit we make, 
 Then other buds from bearing trees we take : 
 Inserted thus, the wounded rind we close. 
 In whose moist womb th' admitted infaut grows. 
 But when the smoother bole from knots is free, 
 We make a deep incision in the tree ; 
 And in the solid wood the slip enclose, 
 The battening bastard shoots again and grows ; 
 And in short space the laden boughs arise. 
 With happy fruit advancing to the skies. 
 The mother-plant admires the leaves unknown. 
 Of alien trees, and apples not her own. 
 
SUMMER — JULY. 
 
 ViRICTlia or WILLOWS, BLHS, olives, ArrLB-THIlBS, ITC. 
 
 Of vegetable woods are various kinds, 
 And the same species are of aev'ral minds. 
 Lotes, willows, elms, have different forms allowed. 
 So funeral eypress, rising like a shroud. 
 Fat olive-trees of sundry sorts appear, 
 Of sundry shapes their unctuous berries bear. 
 Radii long olives, Orchitcs round produce, 
 And bitter Pausia, pounded for the juice. 
 Alcinous' orchard various apples bears : 
 Unlike are bcrgamots and pounder pears. 
 
 SBiN, LYDUX, CnU.N, AROITIS, IIUOD 
 
 Nor our Italian vinos produce the shape. 
 Or taste, or flavor, of the Lesbian grape. 
 The Thasian vines in richer soils abound ; 
 The Marcotic grow in barren ground. 
 The PsytljiiiM ;;j;i|.i-- wf.liy : L!i;,'a-au juice [duce. 
 Will -till 1 , I ml -i.i;.'i,-'ring feet pro- 
 
 Ratli 1 : I liitiT kind, 
 
 Of gull ! 1|||,|||- rind. 
 
 How .-h.i.. 1 ,.,..,.. ,„. l,.i U.iiin j,'r;ipe divine, 
 Which yet contends not with Falcrnian wine ! 
 The Aminean many a consulship survives. 
 And longer than the Lydian vintage lives. 
 Or [of Phana-'us high] of Chian growth : 
 But for largo quantities and lusting both 
 The less Argitis hears the prize away. 
 The Hh- '■■■■■ - • •' • ■ l!u- solemn day, 
 
 And ! 
 
 „" ids abo 
 
 1 lose. 
 
 In length ami hirgi-iie^s like the dugs of cows. 
 I pass the rest, whose every race and name. 
 And kinds, are less material to my theme. 
 Which who would learn, as soon may tell the sands, 
 Driven by the western wind on Libyan lands ; 
 Or number, when the blust'ring Eurus roars, 
 The billows beating on Ionian shores. 
 
 EiCH PLAN-T HAS ITS PBOP8K SOIL, HABITAT, AND COOSTRT ; 
 EBON, BALU, LTC. — SILK, TALL TKBKS ; CSK OP CITRONS. 
 
 Kor every plant on every soil will grow ; 
 The sallow loves the watery ground, and low ; 
 The marshes, alders ; Nature seems t' ordaiu 
 The rocky cliff for the wild ash's reign ; 
 The baleful yew to northern blasts assigns ; 
 To shores the myrtles, and to mounts the vines. 
 
 Regard th' extrcmest cultivated coast. 
 From hot Arabia to the Scythian frost : 
 All sorts of trees their several countries know ; 
 Black ebon only will in India grow : 
 And od'rous frankincense on the Sabsean bough. 
 Balm slowly trickles through the bleeding veins 
 Of happy shrubs in Iduma^an plains. 
 The green Egyptian thorn, for mcd'cine good. 
 With Ethiop's hoary trees and woolly wood. 
 Let others tell ; and how the Seres spin 
 Their fleecy forests in a slender twine. 
 With mighty trunks of trees on Indian shores, 
 
 Whose height above the feathered arrow soars. 
 Shot from the toughest bow, and by the brawn 
 Of expert archers with vast vigor drawn. 
 Sharp-tasted citrons Median climes prmluco : 
 Bitter the rind, but generous is the juice : 
 A cordial fruit, a present antidote 
 Against the direful stepdame's deadly draught : 
 Who mixing wicked weeds with words impure, 
 The fate of envied orphans would procure. 
 Large is the plant, and like a laurel grows, 
 And, did it not a different scent disclose, 
 A laurel were ; the fragrant flowers contemn 
 The stormy winds, tenacious of their stem. 
 With this the Modes to laboring age bequeath 
 Now lungs, and cure the sourness of the breath. 
 
 But neither Median woods (a plenteous land), 
 Fair Ganges, Uermus rolling golden sand. 
 Nor Baetria, nor the richer Indian fields, 
 Nor all the gummy stores Arabia yields ; 
 Nor any foreign earth of greater name, 
 Can with sweet Italy contend in fame. 
 No bulls, whose nostrils breathe a living flame. 
 Have turned our turf, no teeth of serpents here 
 Were sown, an armed host and iron crop to bear. 
 But fruitful vines, and the fat olives' freight. 
 And harvests heavy with their fruitful weight, 
 Adorn our fields ; and on the cheerful green 
 The grazing flocks and lowing herds arc seen. 
 The warrior horse here bred is taught to train : 
 There flows Clitumnus through the flowery plain ; 
 Whose waves, for triumphs after prosperous war. 
 The victim ox, and snowy sheep, prepare. 
 Perpetual spring our happy olimato sees ; 
 Twice breed the cattle, and twice bear the trees ; 
 And summer suns recede by slow degrees. 
 
 Our land is from the rage of tigers freed. 
 Nor nourishes the lion's angry seed ; 
 No poisonous aconite is here produced. 
 Or grows unknown, or is, when known, refused. 
 Nor in so vast a length our serpents glide, 
 Or raised on such a spiry volume ride. 
 
 THE CITIES, SEAS, LAKES, AND MINES OP ITALY LAVOED j 
 LAKES COMO, GABDA, LOCBISCS, AVERNCS *, PORT JII.ICS. 
 
 Next add our cities of illustrious name. 
 Their costly labor and stupendous frame : 
 Our forts on steepy hills, that far below 
 See wanton streams in winding valleys flow. 
 Our two-fold seas, that, washing either side, 
 A rich recruit of foreign stores provide. 
 Our spacious lakes : thee, Lnrius, first ; and next 
 Benacus, with tempestuous billows vext. 
 Or shall I praise thy ports, or mention make 
 Of the vast mound that binds the Lucrine lake : 
 Or the disdainful sea, that, shut from thence, 
 Roars round the structure, and invades the fenoe. 
 There, where secure the Julian waters glide, 
 Or where Avernus' jaws admit the Tyrrhene tide. 
 Our quarries, deep in earth, were famed of old 
 For veins of silver, and for ore of gold. 
 
216 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 The inhabitants themselves their country grace ; 
 Hence rose the Marsian and Sabellian race : 
 Strong-limbed and stout, and to the wars inclined. 
 And hard Ligurians, a laborious kind, 
 And Volscians, armed with iron-headed darts. 
 Besides an offspring of undaunted hearts. 
 The Decii, Marii ; great Camillus came 
 From hence, and greater Scipio's double name : 
 And mighty Cassar, whose victorious arms 
 To furthest Asia carry fierce alarms ; 
 Avert unwarlike Indians from his Rome ; 
 Triumph abroad, secure our peace at home. 
 
 Hail, sweet Saturnian soil ! of fruitful grain 
 Great parent, greater of illustrious men. 
 For thee my tuneful accents will I raise. 
 And treat of arts disclosed in ancient days : 
 Once more unlock for thee the sacred spring. 
 And old Asoraean verse in Roman cities sing. 
 
 The nature of their several soils now see. 
 Their strength, their color, their fertility : 
 And first for heath, and barren hiUy ground, 
 Where meagre clay and flinty stones abound ; 
 Where the poor soil all succor seems to want. 
 Yet this suffices the Palladian plant. 
 Undoubted signs of such a soil are found. 
 For here wild olive shoots o'erspread the ground, 
 And heaps of berries strew the fields around. 
 But where the soil, with fattening moisture filled, 
 Is clothed with grass, and fruitful to be tilled : 
 Such as in cheerful vales we view from high ; 
 Which dripping rocks with roiling streams supply. 
 And feed with ooze ; where rising hillocks run 
 In length, and open to the southern sun ; 
 Where fern succeeds, ungrateful to the plough, 
 That gentle ground to generous grapes allow. 
 Strong stocks of vines it will in time produce. 
 And overflow the vats with friendly juice ; 
 Such as our priests in golden goblets pour 
 To gods, the givers of the cheerful hour, 
 Then when the bloated Thuscan blows his horn. 
 And reeking entrails are in chargers borne. 
 
 If herds, or fleecy flocks, be more thy care. 
 Or goats that graze the field, and burn it bare ; 
 Then seek Tarentum*s lawns, and furthest coast. 
 Or such a field as hapless Mantua lost : 
 Where silver swans sail down the watery road, 
 And graze the floating herbage of the flood. 
 There crystal streams perpetual tenor keep, 
 Nor food nor springs are wanting to thy sheep. 
 For what the day devours, the nightly dew 
 Shall to the morn in pearly drops renew. 
 
 Fat crumbling earth is fitter for the plough, 
 Putrid and loose above, and black below : 
 
 For ploughing is an imitative toil, 
 
 Resembling nature, in an easy soil. 
 
 No land for seed like this, no fields afford 
 
 So large an income to'the village lord : 
 
 No toiling teams from harvest-labor come 
 
 So late at night, so heavy laden home. 
 
 The like of forest land is understood, 
 
 From whence the surly ploughman grubs the wood. 
 
 Which had for length of ages idle stood. 
 
 Then birds forsake the ruins of their seat, [forget. 
 
 And, flying from their nests, their callow young 
 
 POOR SOILS ; GOOD SOILS DESCRIBED. — CAMPANIA. 
 
 The coarse, lean gravel on the mountain sides 
 Scarce dewy beverage for the bees provides : 
 Nor chalk nor crumbling stones, the food of snakes. 
 That work in hollow earth their winding tracks. 
 The soil e-xhaling clouds of subtile dews. 
 Imbibing moisture which with ease she spues : 
 Which rusts not iron, and whose mould is clean. 
 Well clothed with cheerful grass, and ever green. 
 Is good for olives and aspiring vines ; 
 Embracing husband elms, in amorous twines ; 
 Is fit for feeding cattle, fit to sow. 
 And equal to the pasture and the plough. 
 
 Such is the soil of fat Campanian fields, [yields, 
 Such large increase the land that joins Vesuvius 
 And such a country could Acerra boast, 
 Till Clanius overflowed the unhappy coast. 
 
 I teach thee next the differing soils to know ; 
 The light for vines, the heavier for the plough. 
 Choose first a place for such a purpose fit. 
 There dig the solid earth, and sink a pit : 
 Next fill the hole with its own earth again. 
 And trample with thy feet, and tread it in ; 
 Then if it rise not to the former height 
 Of superfice, conclude that soil is light : 
 A proper ground for pasturage and vines. 
 But if the sullen earth, so pressed, repines 
 Within its native mansion to retire. 
 And stays without, a heap of heavy mire ; 
 'T is good for arable, a glebe that asks 
 Tough teams of oxen, and laborious tasks. 
 
 SALINE EARTHS ; HOW TESTED. 
 
 Salt earth and bitter are not fit to sow. 
 Nor will be tamed or mended by the plough. 
 Sweet grapes degen'rate there, and fruits declined 
 From their first flav'rous taste renounce their kind. 
 This truth by sure experiment is tried : 
 For first an osier colander provide 
 Of twigs thick wrought (such toiling peasants twine, 
 When thro' strait passages they strain their wine) ; 
 In this close vessel place that earth accursed. 
 But filled brimfuU with wholesome water first : 
 Then run it through, the drops will rope around. 
 And by the bitter taste disclose the ground. 
 
 HOW TO KNOW SOILS ; VARIOUS TESTS. 
 
 The fatter earth by handling we may find, 
 With ease distinguished from the meagre kind : 
 
SUMMER — JULY. 
 
 217 
 
 Puor soil will crumblo into duat, the rich 
 Will to tho flngors olcnro like clammy pitch : 
 Moist earth produces corn and gnas, but both 
 Too rank and too luxuriant in tlicir growth. 
 Let not my land so largo a promise boast, 
 Lest the lank ears in length of stvm be lost. 
 The heavier earth is by her weight betrayed, 
 Tho lighter in the poising hand is weighed : 
 'T is easy to distinguish by tho sight 
 Tho color of the soil, and block from white. 
 But tho cold ground is difficult to know. 
 Yet this tho plants that prosper there will show j 
 Black ivy, pitch trees, and tho baleful yew. 
 
 These rules considered well, with early care 
 Tho vineyard destined for thy vines prepare : 
 But long before the planting dig the ground 
 With furrows deep, that oast a rising mound : 
 Tho clods, exposed to winter winds, will bake ; 
 For putrid earth will best in vineyards take. 
 And hoary frosts, after the painful toil 
 Of delving hinds, will rot the mellow soil. 
 
 Some peasants, not t omit the nicest care, 
 Of the same soil their nursery prepare 
 With that of their plantation ; lest tho tree, 
 Translated, should not with tho soil agree. 
 Beside, to plant it as it was, they mark 
 The heaven's four quarters on the tender bark ; 
 And to the north or south restore the side 
 Which at their birth did heat or cold abide. 
 So strong is custom, such effects can use 
 In tender souls of pliant plants produce. 
 
 Choose ne.xt a province for thy vineyard's reig 
 On hills above, or in tho lowly plain : 
 If fertile fields or valleys be thy choice, 
 Plant thick, for bounteous Bacchus will rejoice 
 In close plantations there. But if the vine 
 On rising ground be placed, or hills supine, 
 E.xtend thy loose battalions largely wide, 
 Opening thy ranks and files on either side ; 
 But marshalled all in order as they stand. 
 And let no soldier straggle from his band. 
 As legions in the field their front display. 
 To try the fortune of some doubtful day. 
 And move to meet their foes with sober pace. 
 Strict to their figure, though in wider spaco ; 
 Before the battle joins ; while from afar 
 The field yet glitters with the pomp of war. 
 And equal Mars, like an impartial lord. 
 Leaves all to fortune, and tho dint of sword ; 
 So let thy vines in intervals bo set, 
 But not their rural discipline forget : 
 Indulge their width, and add a roomy space. 
 That their e.'strcniest lines may scarce embrace : 
 Nor this alone t' indulge a vain delight. 
 And make a ]ilcttsing prospect for the sight : 
 
 But for tho ground itself, this only way 
 
 Can oquol vigor to tho plants convey ; [display. 
 
 Which crowded, want the room their branches to 
 
 How deep they must bo planted, wouldst thou 
 In shallow furrows vines securely grow. [know? 
 Not so tho rest of plants ; for Jove's own tree. 
 That holds the woods in awful sovereignty, 
 Ilequires a depth of lodging in tho ground ; 
 And, next tho lower skies, a bed profound : 
 High as his topmost boughs to heaven ascend, 
 So low his roots to hell's dominion tend. 
 Therefore, nor winds, nor winter's rage, o'erthrows 
 His bulky body, but unmoved he grows ; 
 For length of ages lasts his happy reign, 
 And lives of mortal men contend in vain. 
 Full in the midst of his own strength he stands. 
 Stretching his brawny arms, and leafy hands ; 
 His shade protects the plains, his head the hills 
 commands. 
 
 The hurtful hazel in thy vineyard shun ; 
 Nor plant it to receive the setting sun : 
 Nor break the topmost branches from the tree ; 
 Nor prune, with blunted knife, tho progeny. 
 Root up wild olives from thy labored lands : 
 For sparkling fire, from hinds' unwary hands. 
 Is often scattered o'er their unctuous rinds, 
 And after spread abroad by raging winds. 
 For first the smouldering flame the trunk receives. 
 Ascending thence, it crackles in the leaves ; 
 At length victorious to the top aspires. 
 Involving all the wood in smoky fires : 
 But most, when driven by winds, the flaming storm 
 Of the long files destroys the beauteous form. 
 In ashes then th' unhappy vineyard lies. 
 Nor will the blasted plants from ruin rise ; 
 Nor will the withered stock be green again, [plain. 
 But tho wild olive shoots, and shades th' ungrateful 
 TIMES FOR pLororaso. 
 
 Be not seduced with wisdom's empty shows. 
 To stir the peaceful ground whon Boreas blows. 
 Whin winter frosts constrain the field with cold. 
 The fainty root can take no steady hold. 
 But when the golden Spring reveals the year. 
 And tho white bird returns, whom serpents fear ; 
 That season deem the best to plant thy vines : 
 Next that, is when autumnal warmth declines ; 
 Ere heat is quite decayed, or cold begun. 
 Or Capricorn admits tho winter sun. 
 
 REVIvn-VlNO K.NBROIES OF SPRINQ ', BIROS, BEASTS, PLANTS. 
 
 The Spring adorns the woods, renews the leaves ; 
 The womb of earth tho genial seed rcoeives. 
 For then almighty Jove descends, and pours 
 Into his buxom bride his fruitful showers ; 
 And mixing his large limbs with hers, he feeds 
 Her births with kindly juice, and fosters teeming 
 
218 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Then joyous birds frequent the lonely grove, 
 And beasts, by nature stung, renew their love. 
 Then fields the blades of buried corn disclose, 
 And while the balmy western spirit blows. 
 Earth to the breath her bosom dares expose. 
 With kindly moisture then the plants abound, 
 The grass securuly springs above the ground ; 
 The tender twig shuots upward to the skies. 
 And on the faith of the new sun relies. 
 The swerving vines on the tall elms prevail. 
 Unhurt by southern showers or northern hail. 
 They spread their gems the genial warmth to share, 
 And boldly trust their buds in open air. 
 
 THE CEEATIOS IN SPRING ; iN iCCOCNT OF IT. 
 
 In this soft season (let me dare to sing) 
 The world was hatched by heaven's imperial King : 
 In prime of all the year, and holy-days of Spring. 
 Then did the new creation first appear ; 
 Nor other was the tenor of the year : 
 When laughing heaven did the great birth attend. 
 And eastern winds their wintry breath suspend : 
 Then sheep first saw the sun in open fields ; 
 And savage beasts were sent to stock the wilds : 
 And golden stars flew up to light the skies, 
 And man's relentless race from stony quarries rise. 
 Nor could the tender new creation bear 
 Th' excessive heats or coldness of the year : 
 But, chilled by Winter, or by Summer fired. 
 The middle temper of the Spring required. 
 When warmth and moisture did at once abound, 
 And heaven's indulgence brooded on the ground. 
 
 For what remains, in depth of earth secure 
 Thy covered plants, and dung with hot manure ; 
 And shells and gravel in the grounds enclose ; 
 For through their hollow chinks the water flows : 
 Which, thus imbibed, returns in misty dews, 
 And, steaming up, the rising plant renews. 
 Some husbandmen, of late, have found the way 
 A hilly heap of stones above to lay. 
 And press the plants with sherds of potter's clay. 
 This fence against immoderate rains they found : 
 Or when the dog-star cleaves the thirsty ground. 
 
 KEEP THE SOIL FREE ; TRAINING OF VINES ON POLES, ELMS, 
 
 Be mindful, when thou hast entombed the shoot. 
 With store of earth around to feed the root ; 
 With iron teeth of rakes, and prongs, to move 
 The crusted earth, and loosen it above. 
 Then exercise thy sturdy steers to plough 
 Betwixt thy vines, and teach the feeble row 
 To mount on reeds, and wands, and, upward led. 
 On ashen poles to raise their forky head. 
 On these new crutches let them learn to walk. 
 Till swerving upwards, with a stronger stalk, 
 They brave the winds, and, clinging to their guide. 
 On tops of elms at length triumphant ride. 
 
 But let thy hand supply the pruning-knife ; 
 And crop luxuriant stragglers, nor be loth 
 To strip the branches of their leafy growth : 
 But when the rooted vines, with steady hold, 
 Can clasp their elms, then, husbandman, be bold 
 To lop the disobedient boughs, that strayed 
 Beyond their ranks : let crooked steel invade 
 The lawless troops, which discipline disclaim, 
 And their superfluous growth with rigor tame. 
 
 PROTECT VINES AGAINST CATTLE, GOATS, ETC. 
 
 Next, fenced with hedges and deep ditches round. 
 Exclude the encroaching cattle from thy ground. 
 While yet the tender germs but just appear. 
 Unable to sustain th' uncertain year ; 
 Whose leaves are not alone foul Winter's prey. 
 But oft by summer suns are scorched away ; 
 And, worse than both, become th' unworthy browse 
 Of buffaloes, salt goats, and hungry cows. 
 For not December's frost, that burns the boughs. 
 Nor dog-days' parching heat, that splits the rocks. 
 Are half so harmful as the greedy flocks ; [stocks. 
 Their venomed bite, and scars indented on the 
 
 For this the malefactor goat was laid 
 On Bacchus' altar, and his forfeit paid. 
 At .\thens thus old comedy began. 
 When round the streets the reeling actors ran ; 
 In country villages, and crossing ways, 
 Contending for the prizes of their plays : 
 And glad with Bacchus, on the grassy soil. 
 Leapt o'er the skins of goats besmeared with oil. 
 Thus Roman youth, derived from ruined Troy, 
 In rude Saturnian rhymes express their joy : 
 With taunts and laughter loud, their audience please. 
 Deformed with vizards, cut from barks of trees ; 
 In jolly hymns they praise the god of wine. 
 Whose earthen images adorn the pine ; 
 And there are hung on high, in honor of the vine : 
 A madness so devout the vineyard fills. 
 In hollow valleys and on rising hills ; 
 On whate'er side he turns his honest face, [grace. 
 And dances in the wind, those fields are in his 
 To Bacchus therefore let us tune our lays. 
 And in our mother-tongue resound his praise. 
 Thin cakes in chargers, and a guilty goat, 
 Dragged by the horns, be to his altars brought j 
 Whose oficred entrails shall his crime reproach. 
 And drip their fatness from the hazel broach. 
 
 To dress thy vines new labor is required. 
 Nor must the painful husbandman be tired : 
 
SUMMER — JULY. 
 
 219 
 
 For thrice, at loMt, in compass of the year, 
 
 Thy vineyard must employ the sturdy steer, 
 
 To turn the glebe ; besides thy daily pain 
 
 To break the clods, and make the surface plain : 
 
 T" unload the branches, or the leaves to thin. 
 
 That suck the vital moisture of the vine. 
 
 Thus in a. circle runs the peasant's pain, 
 
 And the year rolls within itself again. 
 
 Ev'n in the lowest months, when storms have shed 
 
 From vines the hairy honors of their head. 
 
 Not then the drudging hind his labor ends, 
 
 But to the coming year bis care extends : 
 
 Ev'n then the naked vine he persecutes ; 
 
 Ills pruning-knife at once reforms and cuts. 
 
 VISE-DRKSSISG ; VISTAOB ; PBDSISO ; WREDINO J LABQB AND 
 3MAI.I. VINKVABDS. 
 
 Be first to dig the ground, bo first to burn 
 The branches lopped, and first the props return 
 Into thy house, that bore the burdened vines ; 
 But last to reap the vintage of thy wines. 
 Twice in the year luxuriant leaves o'ershado 
 
 ; rough brambles twice in- 
 
 Uard labor both ! commend the large excess 
 Of spacious vineyards ; cultivate the less. 
 Besides, in woods the shrubs of prickly thorn, 
 Sallows, and reeds, on banks of rivers born, 
 Itemain to cut ; for vineyards useful found. 
 To stay thy vines, and fence thy fruitful ground. 
 
 Nor when thy tender trees at length are bound ; 
 When peaceful vines from pruning-hooks are free, 
 When husbands have surveyed the last degree, ' 
 And utmost files of plants, and ordered ev'ry tree ; 
 Ev'n when they sing at ease in full content, 
 Insulting o'er the toils they underwent ; 
 Yet still they find a future task remain ; 
 To turn the soil, and break the clods again : 
 And, after all, their joys are unsinecre, 
 While falling rains on ripening grapes they fear. 
 
 OLIVB CULTrKE EASV J APPLE-TEKS3. 
 
 Quite opposite to these are olives found. 
 No dressing they require ; and dread no wound ; 
 No rakes nor harrows need, but, fixed bcloir. 
 Rejoice in open air, and uncoucern'dly grow. 
 The soil itself due nourishment supplies : 
 Plough but the furrows, and the fruits arise : 
 Content with small endeavors till they spring. 
 Soft peace they figure, and sweet plenty bring : 
 Then olives plant, and hymns to Pallas sing. 
 
 Thus apple-trees, whoso trunks are strong to boar 
 Their spreading boughs, exert themselves in air ; 
 Want no supply, but stand secure alone. 
 Nor trusting foreign forces, hut their own ; [groan. 
 Till with the ruddy freight the bending branches 
 
 Thus trees of i 
 Uncultivated thr 
 
 Vilo shrubs are shorn for browse : the ^>we^ing 
 Of unctuous trees are torches for the night, [height 
 And shall wo doubt (indulging easy .•^lntli) 
 Tti sow, tit set* and to reform their growth ? 
 To leave the lofty plants ; the lowly kind 
 Are for the shepherd, or tho sheep, designed. 
 Ev'n humble broom and osiers havo their use. 
 And shade forVoep and food for flocks produce ; 
 Hedges for corn, and honey for tho bees : 
 Besides the pleasing prospect of tho trees. 
 
 USES OF THE CEDAB, PISE, *!ID OTIIBK TREES ; CTTORCS, 
 
 How goodly looks Cytonis, over green 
 With boxen groves, with what delight are seen 
 Xarycian woods of pitch, whoso gloomy shade 
 Seems for retreat of heavenly muses made ! 
 But much more pleasing aro those fields to see. 
 That need not ploughs nor human industry. 
 Ev'n cold Caucasian rocks with trees aro spread. 
 And wear green forests on their billy head. 
 Tliimgh bending from the blast of eiistern storms, 
 Though shent their leaves, and shattered are their 
 
 Yet heaven their v 
 For houses cedars. 
 
 I for 1 
 
 ; design 
 
 Cypress provides for spokes and wheels of wains : 
 And all for keels of ships, that scour the wat'ry 
 
 plains. 
 Willows in twigs aro fruitful, elms in leaves ; 
 The war from stubborn myrtles shafts receives : 
 From cornels javelins ; tlie tougher yew 
 
 Which 
 
 uuy 
 
 ir use aro made, 
 the turner's trade ; 
 vc, and steel with 
 
 
 Light alder stems tho Po's impetuous tide. 
 And bees in hollow oaks their honey hide. 
 Now balance, with these gifts, the fumy joys 
 Of wine, attended with eternal noise. 
 Wine urged to lawless lust tho Centaur's train, 
 Through wine they quarrelled, and through \ 
 were slain. 
 
 COSfiRAXn-ATlOS TO FARMERS J TDRIR VABIOtrS HAPPI 
 
 I C0.NTR48T WITB THE LCXIRY OF PALACES ; 
 ASTR.f:A. 
 
 happy, if he knew his happy state ! 
 The swain, who, free from business and debate, 
 Receives his easy food from Nature's hand, 
 And just returns of cultivated land ! 
 No palace, with a lofty gate, he wants 
 T' admit the tides of early visitants. 
 With eager eyes devouring, as they pass. 
 The breathing figures of Corinthian brass. 
 No statues threaten, from high pedestals ; 
 No Persian arras hides his homely walls. 
 With antic vests ; which, through their shady fold. 
 Betray the streaks of ill-dissembled gold. 
 
220 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 He boasts no wool, whose native white is dyed 
 
 With purple poison of Assyrian pride. 
 
 No costly drugs of Araby defile, 
 
 With foreign scents, the sweetness of his oil. 
 
 But easy quiet, a secure retreat, 
 
 A harmless life that knows not how to cheat, 
 
 With home-bred plenty the rich owner bless. 
 
 And rural pleasures crown his happiness. 
 
 Unvexed with quarrels, undisturbed with noise. 
 
 The country king his peaceful realm enjoys : 
 
 Cool grots, and living lakes, the flowery pride 
 
 Of meads, and streams, that through the valley 
 
 And .sliady groves that easy sleep invite, [glide. 
 
 And, alter toilsome days, a soft repose at night. 
 
 Wild beasts of nature in his woods abound ; 
 
 And youth, of labor patient, plough the ground. 
 
 Inured to hardship, and to homely fare. 
 
 Nor venerable age is wanting there, 
 
 In great examples to the youthful train : 
 
 Nor are the gods adored with rites profane. 
 
 From hence Astrtea took her flight, and here 
 
 The prints of her departing steps appear. 
 
 ;HB MOSES FOR A KNOWLEDGE OF THE LAWS 
 OB FOR RUKAL PEACE AND SECLUSION. 
 
 Ye sacred Muses, with whose beauty fired. 
 My soul is ravished, and my brain inspired ; 
 Whose priest I am, whose holy fillets wear ; 
 Would you your poet's first petition hear ; 
 Give me the ways of wandering stars to know : 
 The depths of heaven above, and earth below. 
 Teach me the various labors of the moon. 
 And whence proceed the eclipses of the sun. 
 Why flowing tides prevail upon the main, 
 And in wliat dark recess they shrink again. 
 What shakes the solid earth, what cause delays 
 The suminir nijihts, and shortens winter days. 
 
 But if my li.:i\> 111 1 iistrain the flight 
 
 Of my li.r -,,ul, :i-]iiiiii- t.) the height 
 Of naturr. iHi.l u,,rl,nMr,l Holds of light; 
 Jly next ilt--^iiL- is, void of care and strife. 
 To lead a soft, secure, inglorious life. 
 A country cottage near a crystal flood, 
 A winding valley, and a lulty wui.d ; 
 Some god conduct nic V' Un' -;hird shades. 
 Where bacchanals ;uv miu- l^y -|.;iilan maids, 
 Or lift mo high t.. Ih, mu^- hilly . ruwn ; 
 Or in the plains of Tempo lay lue down : 
 Or lead me to some solitary place. 
 And cover my retreat from human race. 
 
 Happy the man, who, studying nature s laws. 
 Through known effects can trace the secret cause. 
 His mind possessing in a quiet state, 
 Fearless of fortune, and resigned to fate. 
 And happy too is he, who decks the bowers 
 Of sylvans, and adores the rural powers : 
 Whose mind, unmoved, the bribes of courts can see 
 Their glittering baits, and purple slavery. 
 Nor hopes the people's praise, nor fears their frown 
 
 Nor, when contending kindred tear the crown. 
 Will set up one, or pull another down. 
 
 Without concern he hears, but hears from far, 
 Of tumults, and disfeents", and distant war : 
 Nor with a superstitious fear is awed, 
 For what befalls at home, or what abroad. 
 Nor envies he the rich their heapy store. 
 Nor his own peace disturbs with pity for the poor. 
 He feeds on fruits, which, of their own accord, 
 The willing ground and laden trees afford. 
 
 COURTIERS, DEMAGOGUES, MISERS, MONEY-GETTERS. 
 
 From his loved home no lucre him can draw ; 
 The senate's mad decrees he never saw ; 
 Nor heard, at bawling bars, corrupted law. 
 Some to the seas, and some to camps resort. 
 And some with impudence invade the court. 
 In foreign countries others seek renown ; 
 With wars and taxes others waste their own, 
 And houses burn, and household gods deface, 
 To drink in bowls which glittering gems enchase : 
 To loll on couches, rich with citron steds, 
 And lay their guilty limbs in Tyrian beds. 
 This wretch in earth entombs his golden ore. 
 Hovering and brooding on his buried store. 
 Some patriot fools to popular praise aspire. 
 Of public speeches, which worse fools admire ; 
 While from both benches, with redoubled sounds, 
 Th' applause of lords and commoners abounds. 
 Some through ambition, or through thirst of gold, 
 Have slain their brothers, or their country sold ; 
 And, leaving their sweet homes, in exile run 
 To lands that lie beneath another sun. 
 
 THE PEACEFUL LIFE OF THE PEASANT. 
 
 The peasant, innocent of all these ills. 
 With crooked ploughs the fertile fallows tills ; 
 And the round year with daily labor fills. 
 From hence the country markets are supplied : 
 Enough remains for household charge beside ; 
 His wife and tender children to sustain. 
 And gratefully to feed his dumb, deserving train. 
 Nor cease his labors till the yellow field 
 A full return of bearded harvest yield ; 
 A crop so plenteous, as the land to load, [abroad. 
 O'ercome the crowded barns, and lodge on ricks 
 
 Thus every several season is employed : 
 Some spent in toil, and some in ease enjoyed. 
 The yeaning ewes prevent the springing year ; 
 The laded boughs their fruits in Autumn bear : 
 'T is then the vine her liquid harvest yields, 
 Baked in the sunshine of ascending fields. | 
 
 The Winter comes, and then the falling mast 
 For greedy swine provides a full repast. 
 Then olives, ground in mills, their fatness boast 
 And winter fruits are mellowed by the frost. 
 His cares are eased with intervals of bliss ; 
 His little children, climbing for a kiss, 
 
SUMMER — JULY. 
 
 221 
 
 Welcome their father's late return at night ; 
 Uis faithful bed is crowned with chaste delight. 
 His kiuo with swelling udders ready stand, 
 And, lowing for the pail, invite the milker's ham 
 His wanton kids, witli budding horns prepared, 
 Fight harmless battles in his homely yard : 
 Himself, in rustic pomp, on holidayi*, 
 To rural powers a just oblation pays ; 
 And on the groen his careless limbs displays. 
 
 The hearth is in the midst ; the herdsmen round 
 The cheerful fire provoke his health in goblets 
 
 crowned. 
 He calls on Bacchus, and propounds the prize ; 
 The groom his fellow-groom at huts defies ; 
 And bends his bow, and levels with his eyes. 
 Or, stripped for wrestling, smears his limbs with oil, 
 And watches with a trip his foe to foil. 
 Such was the life the frugal Sabines led ; 
 So Remus and his brother-god were bred : 
 From whom the austere Etrurian virtue rose ; 
 And this rude life our homely fathers chose. 
 
 RCSTIC VIRTUBS OF THE OLD ROMANS. —SiTCRS AND THE 
 
 Old Rome from such a race derived her birth — 
 The seat of empire, and the conquered earth — 
 Mhich now on seven high hills triumphant reigns, 
 And in tliat compass all the world contains. 
 E*er Saturn's rebel son usurped the skies, 
 When beasts were only slain for sacrifice : 
 While peaceful Crete enjoyed her ancient lord ; 
 E'er sounding hammers forged the inhuman sword,: 
 E'er hollow drums were beat ; before the breath 
 Of brazen trumpets rung the peals of death ; 
 The good old god his hunger did assuage 
 With roots and herbs, and gave the Golden Age. 
 But, over-labored with so long a course, 
 'T is time to set at case the smoking horse. 
 
 rural deities, 
 which Virgil directs 
 :* suhj.ct. lie liiys 
 
 ;he force of Jove, aw 
 ■ part uf the book Ik 
 to CKttle ; and ends with the 
 that furmcrly raged amoug t 
 
 Thy fields, propitious Pales, I rehearse ; 
 And sing thy pastures in no vulgar verse, 
 Ampbrysian shepherd ; the Lycrcan woods ; 
 Arcadia's flowery plains, and pleasing floods. 
 
 All other themes, that careless minds invite. 
 Are worn with use ; unworthy me to write, 
 
 Busiris' altars, and the dire decrees 
 or hard Eurystbeus, every reader sees : 
 llylas the boy, Latona's erring isle. 
 And Pelops' ivory shoulder, and his toil 
 For fair Ilippodnmo, with all the rest 
 Of lireciau tales, by poota ore expressed : 
 New ways I must attempt, my grovelling name 
 To raise aluft, and wing my flight to fame. 
 
 I, first of Romans, shall in triumph come 
 From conquered Greece, and bring her trophies home : 
 With foreign spoils adorn my native place ; 
 And with Idume's palms my Mantua grace. 
 Of Parian stone a temple will I niisc. 
 Where the slow Alincius through the valley strays : 
 Where cooling streams invite the flocks to drink : 
 And reeds defend the winding water's brink. 
 
 COMPLIMENT TO ArorSTfS 
 
 Full in the midst shall mighty Cjcsar stand ; 
 Hold the chief honors, and the dome command. 
 Then I, conspicuous in my Tyrian gown 
 (Submitting to bis godhead my renown), 
 A hundred coursers from the goal will drive ; 
 The rival chariots in the ru'ie shall strive. 
 All Greece shall flock from far, my games to see ; 
 The whirlbut, and the rapid race, shall bo 
 Reserved for Ctesar, and ordained by me. 
 Myself, with olive crowned, the gilts will bear : 
 Even now methinks the public shouts I hear ; 
 The passing pageants, and the pomps appear. 
 I to the temple will conduct the crew : 
 The sacrifice and sacrificers view ; 
 From thenco return, attended with ray train, 
 Where the proud theatres disclose the scene ; 
 Which interwoven Britons seem to raise, 
 And show the triumph which their shame displays 
 
 High o'er the gate, in elephant and gold, 
 The crowd shall Csesar's Indian war behold ; 
 The Nile shall flow beneath ; and on the side 
 His shattered ships on brazen pillars ride. 
 Next him Niphatos, with inverted urn. 
 And dropping sedge, shall his Armenia mourn ; 
 And Asian cities in our triumph born. 
 With backward bows the Parthians shall be there ; 
 And, spurring from the fight, confess their fear. 
 A double wreath shall crown our Caesar's brows ; 
 Twt) ditfering trophies, from two different foes. 
 Europe with Afric in his fame shall join ; 
 Hut neither shore his conquest shall confine. 
 The Parian marble, there, shall seem to move 
 In breathing statues, not unworthy Jove : 
 Resembling heroes, whose ethereal root 
 Is Jove himself, and Cccsar is the fruit. 
 Tros and his race the sculptor shall employ ; 
 And he, the god, who built the walls of Troy. 
 
222 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — VIRGIL. 
 
 Envy herself at last, grown pale and dumb 
 
 (By CiBsar combated and overcome), 
 
 Shall give her hand ; and fear the curling snakes 
 
 Of lashing furies, and the burning lakes : 
 
 The pains of famished Tantalus shall feel ; 
 
 And Sisyphus that labors up the hill 
 
 The rolling rock in vain ; and cursed Ixion's wheel. 
 
 Meantime we must pursue the sylvan lands, 
 The abode of nymphs, untouched by former hands : 
 For such, Maecenas, are thy hard commands. 
 Without thee nothing lofty can I sing ; 
 Come, then, and with thyself thy genius bring : 
 With which inspired, I brook no dull delay. 
 Citha^roni loudly calls me to my way ; 
 Thy li'.iiii (- T.p\ -. Ill, njien and pursue their prey. 
 Hi-li 1,1 ' "' ' II - "H my speed, 
 Faiin'i I I 1: h 1 in, I f'nr his horses' breed : 
 From lull- :iiil .hilr. I lir cheerful cries rebound ; 
 For echo hunts along, and propagates the sound. 
 
 A time will come, when my maturer muse, 
 In Caisar's wars, a nobler theme shall choose. 
 And through more ages bear my sovereign's praise. 
 Than have from Tithon past to Caesar's days. 
 
 The generous youth, who, studious of the prize, 
 The race of running coursers multiplies ; 
 Or to the plough the sturdy bullock breeds. 
 May know that from the dam the worth of each 
 
 proceeds. 
 The mother-cow must wear a lowering look, 
 Sour-headed, strongly necked, to bear the yoke. 
 Her double dew-lap from her chin descends : 
 And at her thighs the ponderous burthen ends. 
 Long are her sides and large, licr limbs are Kit'at ; 
 Rough are her ears, and l.i.i.il h, r iLiny li . i. 
 Her color shining black, till [ il,,kr.| unl, \vMitr; 
 She tosses from the yoke ; i i ^ .1 , il,, nit 
 
 And in I ■ I I.I . . I. ||' I. . nil. I iiinr bcars : 
 
 But, after ten, from nuptial rites refrain. 
 Six seasons use ; but then release the cow, 
 Unat for love, and for the laboring plough. 
 
 Now, while their youth is filled with kindly fire. 
 Submit thy females to the lusty sire. 2 # * * 
 
 In youth alone, unhappy mortals live ; 
 But, ah ! the mighty bliss is fugitive ; 
 Discolored 'sickness, anxious labors come, 
 And age, and death's inexorable doom. 
 
 Yearly thy herds in vigor will impair ; 
 
 Recruit and mend 'em with thy yearly care : 
 Still propagate, for still they fall away, 
 'T is prudence to prevent the entire decay. 
 
 GOOD POINTS IN A STALLION. 
 
 Like diligence requires the courser's race ; 
 In early choice, and for a longer space. 
 The colt, that for a stallion is designed, 
 By sure presages shows his generous kind ; 
 Of able body, sound of limb and wind, 
 Upright he walks, on pasterns firm and straight ; 
 His motions easy ; prancing in his gait. 
 The first to lead the way, to tempt the flood ; 
 To pass the bridge unknown, nor fear the trembling 
 Dauntless at empty noises ; lofty necked ; [wood. 
 Sharp-headed, barrel-bellied, broadly backed. 
 Brawny his chest, and deep ; his color gray, 
 For beauty, dappled, — or the brightest bay ; 
 Faint white and dun will scarce the rearing pay. 
 
 The fiery courser, when he hears from far 
 The sprightly trumpets, and the shouts of war. 
 Pricks up his ears ; and, trembling with delight. 
 Shifts place, and paws; and hopes the promised fight. 
 On his right shoulder his thick mane reclined, 
 RufHes at speed, and dances in the wind. 
 His horny hoofs are jetty black, and round ; 
 His chine is double ; starting, with a bound 
 He turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground. 
 Fire from his eyes, clouds from his nostrils flow : 
 Ho bears his rider headlong on the foe. 
 
 THE COCRSER CTLLARUS ; SATCRN TRANSFORMED TO A HORSE. 
 
 Such was the steed in Grecian poets famed, 
 Proud Cyllarus, by Spartan Pollux tamed : 
 
 ore to figlit the g.,d of Thrace ; 
 
 
 The lecher galloped from his jealous queen ; 
 
 Ran up the ridges of the rocks amain ; [plain. 
 
 And with shrill ncighings filled the neighboring 
 
 But worn with years, when dire diseases come, 
 Tlien hide his not ignoble age at home : 
 In peace to enjoy his former palms and pains ; 
 And gratefully be kind to his remains. 
 For when liis blood no youthful spirits move, 
 He languishes and labors in his love.' * * » 
 In vain he burns, like hasty stubble fires ; 
 And in himself his former self requires. 
 
 THE BLOOD HORSE; TOE CHARIOT RACE DESCRIBED. 
 
 His ago and courage weigh : nor those alone, 
 But not his father's virtues nor his own ; 
 Observe if he disdains to yield the prize ; 
 Of loss impatient, proud of victories. 
 1 Frigidus in Venerem senior ; frustraque laborem 
 Ingratum trahit ; et, si quando ad piielia ventum est, etc. 
 
llast thou bobold, when from the goal they start, 
 The youthful charioteers, with heaving heart, 
 Rush to the race ; and, panting, sonrcely bear 
 The oxtremoa of feverish hope, and ehilling fear ; 
 Stoop to the reins, and lash with all their force j 
 The flying chariot kindles in the course : 
 And now a-low, and now aloft they fly, 
 As borne through air, and seem to touch the sky. 
 No stop, no stay, but clouds of sand arise, 
 Spurned and oast back upon the follower's eyes. 
 The hindmost blows the foam upon the first : 
 Such is the love of praise, — an honorable thirst. 
 
 i LAPITn.E, HORSJ>BIlEAKERS. 
 
 Bold Erichthonius was the first, who joined 
 Four horses for the rapid race dc?*igncd ; 
 And o'er the dusty wheels presiding sat ; 
 The Lapitha; to chariots add the state 
 Of bits and bridles ; taught the steed to bound. 
 To run the ring, and trace the mazy round ; 
 To stop, to fly ; the rules of war to know ; 
 To obey the rider, and to dare the foe. 
 
 To choose a youthful steed, with courage fired ; 
 To breed him, break him, back him, are required 
 Kxperienced masters ; and in sundry ways : 
 Their labors equal, and alike their praise. 
 But once again the battered horse beware. 
 The weak old stallion will deceive thy care. 
 Though famous in his youth for force and speed, 
 Or was of Argos or Epirian breed. 
 Or did from Neptune's race, or from himself proceed. 
 
 These things premised, when now the nuptial time 
 Approaches for the stately steed to climb ; 
 With food enable him to make his court ; 
 Distend bis chine, and pamper him for sport. 
 Feed hira with herbs, whatever thou canst find. 
 Of generous warmth, and of salacious kind. 
 Then water him, and (drinking what he can) 
 Encourage him to thirst again, with bran." * * 
 For if the sire bo faint, and out of ease. 
 He will be copied in his famished race : 
 And sink beneath the pleasing tJisk assigned.' * * 
 
 CABE OF BROOD MARKS. 
 
 .\s for the females, with industrious care 
 Take down their mettle, keep 'cm lean and bare ; 
 When conscious of their past delight, and keen ' * * 
 With scanty measure then supply their food ; 
 And, when athirst, restrain 'em from the flood : 
 Their bodies harass, sink 'em when they run ; 
 And fry their melting marrow in the sun. 
 Starve 'em, when barns beneath their burden groan, 
 And winnowed chaff by western winds is blown.- * * 
 
 1 Two lines are omitted after 6ran, and one, each, after 
 cutxiijned and keen ; their grossness Is not in the oriRinftl. J. 
 
 s Six lines are here omitted } they i 
 the fuilowiuK three : 
 
 Hoc lUctunt, nlmlo ne Iiixu otituslor usus 
 
 Sll Benitall flrvo. et sulcus obllmcl Inertes : 
 
 Setl rapiat sltlens Veuerem, Interlusque recondat. 
 
 ! the translation of 
 
 The male has done ; thy care must now proceed 
 To teeming females, and the promised breed. 
 First let 'cm run at large ; and never know 
 The tjimiug yoke, or draw the crooked plough. 
 Ixt 'om not leap the ditch, or swim the flood ; 
 Or lumber o'er the meads ; or cross the wood. 
 But range the forest, by the silver side 
 Of some cool stream, where nature shall provide 
 Green grass and fattening clover for their faro ; 
 And mossy caverns for their noontide hire : 
 With rocks above to shield the sharp nocturnal air. 
 
 TUK GADFLY J RltPLOYED DV jrSO J rRBCAUTIOX. 
 
 About the Alburnian groves, with holly green. 
 Of winged insects mighty swarms are scon : 
 This flying plague (to mark its quality) 
 Oestros the Grecians call ; Asylus, we : 
 A fierce loud bunzing breeze ; their stings draw blood, 
 And drive the cattle gadding through the wood. 
 Seized with unusual pains, they loudly cry, _.^ 
 TaiiiiL'i II- !i:i !■ II ilh ii.r. and leaves his channel dry. 
 Tlii- II ' II I li I Juno did invent. 
 
 Ami 1 i ; I I Ill's punishment. 
 
 Totliiiii ilii ill. i!i. .iMining leech ordains 
 In summer's sultry beats (for then it reigns) 
 To feed the females ere the sun arise. 
 Or late at night, when stars adorn the skies. 
 
 CARE OF CALVES ', THEIR SELKCTIOX AND TRAISIXfi. 
 
 When she has calved, then set the dam aside ; 
 
 Wli !■ !■ I I ■> < I i.i HI ; 
 
 Or Hh.. ,-l,.ill I..- I.. ...icliti |„u.iiol , 
 Or whom tliou shalt to turn thy glebe allow ; 
 To smooth the furrows, and sustain the plough ; 
 The rest, for whom no lot is yet decreed. 
 May run in pastures, and at pleasure feed. 
 
 The calf, by nature and by genius made 
 To turn the glebe, breed to the rural trade. 
 Set him betimes to school, and let him bo 
 Instructed there in rules of husbandry : 
 While yet his youth is flexible and green ; 
 Nor bad examples of the world has seen. 
 Early begin the stubborn child to break ; 
 For his soft neck a supple collar make 
 Of bending osiers ; and (with time and care 
 Inured that easy servitude to bear) 
 Thy flattering method on the youth pursue : 
 Joine<l with his school-fellows, by two and two. 
 Persuade 'm first to lead an empty wheel. 
 That scarce the dust can raise ; or they can feel ; 
 In length of time produce the laboring yoke 
 And shining shares, that make the furrows smoke. 
 E'er the licentious youth be thus restrained. 
 Or moral precepts on their minds have gained. 
 Their wanton appetites not only feed 
 With delicatcs of leaves, and marshy weed, 
 
224 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — VIRGIL. 
 
 But with thy sickle reap the rankest land ; 
 And minister the blade with bounteous hand. 
 Nor be with harmful parsimony won 
 To follow what our homely sires have done ; 
 Who filled the pail with beastings of the cow ; 
 But all her udder to the calf allow. 
 
 TKilNlNO THE TOCNG HORSE ; THE WiR-HOHSE ; THE RACER. 
 
 If to the warlike steed thy studies bend, 
 Or for the prize in chariots to contend ; 
 Near Pisa's flood the rapid wheels to guide, 
 Or in Olympian groves aloft to ride, 
 The generous labors of the courser, first, [nurst : 
 Must be with sight of arms and sound of trumpets 
 Inured the groaning axle-tree to bear. 
 And let him clashing whips in stables hear. 
 Soothe him with praise, and make him understand 
 The loud applauses of his master's hand : 
 This from his weaning let him well be taught, 
 And then betimes in a soft snaffle wrought : 
 Before his tender joints with nerves are knit ; 
 Untried in arms, and trembling at the bit. 
 But when to four full springs his years advance. 
 Teach him to run the round, with pride to prance ; 
 And (rightly managed) equal time to beat ; 
 To turn, to bound in measure, and curvet. 
 Let him to this with easy pains be brought : 
 And seem to labor, when he labors not. 
 
 DESCRIPTION 
 
 :-HOBSE ; COMPAR 
 
 Thus formed for speed, he challenges the wind ; 
 And leaves the Scythian arrow far behind : 
 He scours along the field, with loosened reins. 
 And treads so light, he scarcely prints the plains. 
 Like Boreas in his race, when rushing forth. 
 He sweeps the skies, and clears the cloudy north : 
 The waving harvest bends beneath his blast ; 
 The forest shakes, the groves their honors cast ; 
 He flies aloft, and, with impetuous roar, 
 Pursues the foaming surges to the shore. 
 Thus o'er the Elean plains the well-breathed horse 
 Impels the flying car, and wins the course. 
 Or, bred to Belgian wagons, leads the way ; 
 Untired at night, and cheerful all the day. 
 
 When once he's broken, feed him full and high : 
 Indulge his growtli. :nid his i^;iuiit sides supply. 
 Before his training-, k. r|, huii |M,nr and low ; 
 
 For his stout stmiiMrli « iih In- r 1 (vill grow ; 
 
 The pampered colt will disriijliiie disdain. 
 Impatient of the lash, and restive to the rein. 
 
 Wouldst thou their courage and their strength 
 improve ? 
 Too soon they must not feel the stings of love, 
 Whether the bull or courser be thy care : * * 
 The youthful bull must wander in the wood ; 
 Behind the mountain, or beyond the flood : 
 Or in the stall at home his fodder find, 
 Far from the charms of that alluring kind. 
 
 With two fair eyes his mistress burns his breast ; 
 
 He looks, and languishes, and leaves his rest ; 
 
 Forsakes his food, and, pining for the lass. 
 
 Is 'joyless of the grove, and spurns the growing grass. 
 
 The soft seducer, with enticing looks, 
 
 The bellowing rivals to the fight provokes. 
 
 A beauteous heifer in the woods is bred ; 
 The stooping warriors, aiming head to head. 
 Engage their clashing horns ; with dreadful sound 
 The forest rattles, and the rocks rebound. 
 They fence, they push, and pushing loudly roar ; 
 Their dewlaps and their sides are bathed in gore. 
 Nor when the war is over is it peace ; 
 Nor will the vanquished bull his claim release : 
 But feeding in his breast his ancient fires. 
 And cursing fate, from his proud foe retires. 
 Driven from his native land to foreign grounds. 
 He with a generous rage resents his wounds ; 
 His ignominious flight, the victor's boast, [lost. 
 
 And, more than both, the loves, which unrevenged he 
 
 Often he turns his eyes, and, with a groan, 
 
 ^eys t 
 
 And therefore to repair his strength he tries ; 
 
 Hardening his limbs with painful exercise. 
 
 And rough upon the flinty rock he lies. 
 
 On prickly leaves and on sharp herbs he feeds, 
 
 Then to the prelude of a war proceeds. 
 
 His horns, yet sore, he tries against a tree ; 
 
 And meditates his absent enemy. 
 
 He snufis the whv\. hi- In i-1- fhr sand excite ; 
 
 But, when In I : . i in his might, 
 
 He roars, an>l ; i. i . ■ i- -iicccssful fight. 
 
 Then, to n^.lr, ,n l„- I,.,,,,,, ;,1 a l,l„w, 
 He moves his cani]!, to meet his careless foe. 
 Not with more madness, rolling from afar, 
 The spumy waves proclaim the watery war, 
 And mounting upwards, with a mighty rctar, 
 March onwards, and insult the rooky shore. 
 They mate the middle region with their height ; 
 And fall no less than with a mountain's weight : 
 The waters boil, and belching from below. 
 Black sands as from a forceful engine throw. 
 
 THE 1 
 
 PHYSICAL I 
 
 Thus every creature, and of every kind. 
 The secret joys of [reproduction] find : 
 Not only man's imperial race ; but they 
 That wing the liquid air, or swim the sea. 
 Or haunt the desert, rush into the flame : 
 For love is lord of all ; and is in all the same. 
 
 'T is with this rage, the mother-lion stung. 
 Scours o'er the plain, regardless of her young ; 
 Demanding rites of love, she sternly stalks ; 
 And hunts her lover in his lonely walks. 
 'T is then the shapeless bear his den forsakes ; 
 In woods and fields a wild destruction makes. 
 
SUMMER — JOLT. 
 
 225 
 
 Boars whet their tusks j to battle tigers moTO ; 
 
 Enraged with hunger, more enraged with love. 
 
 Then woe to him that in the desert land 
 
 Of Libya travels, o'er the burning sand. 
 
 The stallion snuffs the well-known scent afar, 
 
 And snorts and trembles for the distant mare ; 
 
 Nor bits nor bridles can his rage restrain ; 
 
 And rugged rocks are interposed in vain : 
 
 Ho makes his way o'er mountains, tind contemns 
 
 Unruly torrents, and unforded streams. 
 
 The bristled boar, who feels the pleasing wound, 
 
 Now grinds his arming tusks, and digs the ground. 
 
 Tho sleepy lecher shuts his little eyes ; 
 
 About his churning chaps tho frothy bubbles rise : 
 
 He rubs his sides against a tree ; prepares 
 
 And hardens both his shoulders for the wars. 
 
 ALI.TOIOS TO THE STORY OP LEASDEB. 
 
 What did the youth, when love's unerring dart 
 Transfixed his liver, and inflamed his heart? 
 Alone, by night, his watery way he took ; 
 About him, and above, the billows broke : 
 The sluices of the sky wore open spread. 
 And rolling thunder rattled o'er his head. 
 The raging tempest called him back in vain. 
 And every boding omen of tho main. 
 Nor could his kindred, nor the kindly force 
 Of weeping parents, change his fatal course. 
 No, not the dying maid, who must deplore 
 His floating carcass on the Scstian shore. 
 
 EFFECTS OF LOVE OS LYSXES, WOLVES, DOGS, MARES. 
 
 1 pass the wars that spotted lynxes make 
 With their fierce rivals, for the female's sake : 
 The howling wolves, the mastiff's amorous rage ; 
 When even the fearful stag dares for his hind en- 
 liut far above the rest, the furious mare, [gage. 
 Barred from the male, is frantic with despair.' * * * 
 For love they force through thickets of tho wood, 
 They climb the stecpy hills, and stem the flood. 
 
 When at the spring's approach their marrow 
 
 For with the spring their genial warmth returns — 
 The mares to cliffs of rugged rocks repair. 
 And with wide nostrils snuff the western air : 
 When (wondrous to relate) the parent wind. 
 Without the stallion, propagates the kind. 
 Then, fired with amorous rage, they take their flight 
 Through plains, and mount the hill's unequal 
 Nor to the north, nor to the rising sun, [height ; 
 Nor southward to the rainy re'gions run, 
 But boring to tho west, and hovering there, 
 With gaping mouths they draw prolific air : s • * * 
 > Instead of five gross lines of Dryden, Virgil has here 
 simply ; 
 
 Et menlem Venus ipsa dedit, quo tempore Olauci 
 Potuiades malis membra absumpsere quadrigae. 
 « Eight lines of Dryden are here omitted ; Virgfl has : 
 Hinc domum llippomanes vero quod nomine dicunt 
 Pastures, lintum distillat ab ingmne virus : 
 Hippumancs, quod saepe mata) legere noverca, 
 Misoierunlque herbaa et non innoxia verba. 
 
 But time is lost, which never will renew, 
 While wo too far tho pleasing jMith pursue ; 
 Surveying nature with too nice a view. 
 
 CARK OK SHEEP AND GOATS J THE POKl'S TASK TO BAISI 
 
 Let this suffice for herds : our following care 
 Shall woolly flocks and shaggy goats declare. 
 Nor can I doubt what toil I must bestow. 
 To raise my subject from a ground so low : 
 And tho mean matter which my theme affords, 
 T' embellish with magniflccnoo of words. 
 But tho commanding muse my chariot guides, 
 Which o'er the dubious cliffs securely rides ; 
 And pleased I am no beaten road to take ; 
 But first tho way to new discoveries make. 
 
 WISTBBISO OF SBKEP ASD OOATS. 
 
 Now, sacred Pales, in a lofty strain, 
 I sing tho rural honors of thy reign. 
 First, with iwsiduous care, from winter keep, 
 Well foddered in the stalls, thy tender sheep. 
 Then spread with straw the bedding of thy fold. 
 With fern beneath to fend the bitter cold ; 
 That free from gouts thou may'st preserve thy can 
 And clear from scabs, produced by freezing air. 
 Next lot thy goats ofliciously be nursed ; 
 Ami ii-\ tn livinj streams to quench their thirst. 
 F'-imI'. Ill «iili uiiihr-lirowsc, and for their laro 
 A cnt- tli;ii "|ii ii< I" the south prepare : 
 Wlu-ri- lia-kiii- ill tin; sunshine they may lie, 
 And the short remnants of his heat enjoy. 
 This during Winter's grisly reign be done : 
 Till tho new ram receives the exalted sun : 
 For hairy goats of equal profit are 
 With woolly sheep, and ask an equal oare. 
 
 'T is true, the fleece, when drunk with Tyrian juice, 
 Is dearly sold ; but not for needful use : 
 For the salacious goat increases more. 
 And twice as largely yields her milky store. 
 The still-distended udders never fail ; 
 But, when they seem exhausted, swell the pail. 
 Meantime the pastor shears their hoary beards. 
 And eases of their hair the loaded herds. 
 Their camelots warm in tents the soldier hold. 
 And shield the shivering mariner from cold. 
 
 FEEDISQ OF OOATS AND SHEEP ; WISTKR BROWSE. 
 
 On shrubs they browse, and on the bleaky top 
 Of rugged hills the thorny bramble crop. 
 Attended with their bleating kids they come 
 At night, unasked, and mindful of their home ; 
 And scarce their swelling bags the threshold over- 
 So much tho more thy diligence bestow [come. 
 
 In depth of Winter, to defend the snow : 
 By how much less the tender helpless kind 
 For their own ills can fit provision find. 
 Then minister tho browse with bounteous hand, 
 And open let the stacks all winter stand, 
 
 29 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 But when the western winds, with vital power, 
 Call forth the tender grass and budding flower ; 
 Then, at the last, produce in open air 
 Both flocks, and send 'em to their summer fare. 
 
 Before the sun while Hesperus appears ; 
 First let 'em sip from herbs the pearly tears 
 Of morning dews ; and after break their fast 
 On green-sward ground, a cool and grateful taste : 
 But when the day's fourth hour has drawn the dews. 
 And the sun's sultry heat their thirst renews ; 
 When creaking grasshoppers on shrubs complain. 
 Then lead 'em to their watering-troughs again. 
 In Summer's heat some bending valley find. 
 Closed from the sun, but open to the wind ; 
 Or seek some ancient oak, whose arms extend 
 In ample breadth, thy cattle to defend ; 
 Or solitary grove, or gloomy glade. 
 To shield 'em with its venerable shade. 
 Onee more to watering lead, and feed again. 
 When the low sun is sinking to the main — 
 When rising Cynthia sheds her silver dews, 
 And the cool evening-breeze the meads renews ; 
 When linnets fill the woods with tuneful sound. 
 And hollow shores the halcyon's voice rebound. 
 
 THE LVBIAS PASTCEES ASD FLOCKS i LVBIAN PRAIRIES AKD 
 
 Why should my muse enlarge on Lybian swains; 
 Their scattered cottages, and ample plains ? 
 Where oft the flocks without a leader stray, 
 Or through continued deserts take their way ; 
 And, feeding, add the length of night to day. 
 Whole months they wander, grazing as they go ; 
 Nor folds nor hospitable harbor know : 
 Such an extent of plains, so vast a space 
 Of wilds unknown, and of untasted grass. 
 Allures their eyes : the shepherd last appears. 
 And with him all his patrimony bears ; 
 His house and household gods ; his trade of war ; 
 His bow and quiver ; and his trusty our. 
 Thus, under heavy arms, the youth of Rome 
 Their long laborious marches overcome ; 
 Cheerly their tedious travels undergo, 
 And pitch their sudden camp before the foe. 
 
 Not so the Scythian shepherd tends his fold ; 
 Nor he who bears in Thrace the bitter cold ; 
 Nor he who treads the bleak Mseotian strand ; 
 Or where proud Ister rolls his yellow sand. 
 Early they stall their flocks and herds ; for there 
 No grass the fields, no leaves the forests wear. 
 The frozen earth lies buried there, below 
 A hilly heap, seven cubits deep in snow : 
 And all the west allies of stormy Boreas blow. 
 
 The sun from far peeps with a sickly face ; 
 Too weak the clouds and mighty fogs to chase, 
 When up the skies he shoots his rosy head. 
 
 Or in the ruddy ocean seeks his bed. 
 
 Swift rivers are with sudden ice constrained ; 
 
 And studded wheels are on its back sustained. 
 
 An hostry now for wagons, which before 
 
 Tall ships of burden on its bosom bore. 
 
 The brazen cauldrons with the frost are flawed ; 
 
 The garment, stifi' with ice, at hearths is thawed j 
 
 With axes first they cleave the wine, and thence 
 
 By weight the solid portions they dispense. 
 
 Prom locks uncombed, and from the frozen beard. 
 
 Long icicles depend, and crackling sounds are heard. 
 
 Meantime perpetual sleet, and driving snow. 
 
 Obscure the skies, and hang on herds below. 
 
 The starving cattle perish in thoir stalls, 
 
 Huge oxen stand enclosed in wintry walls 
 
 Of snow congealed ; whole herds are buried there 
 
 Of mighty stags, and scarce thoir horns appear. 
 
 The dextrous huntsman wounds not these afar 
 With shafts, or darts, or makes a distant war 
 With dogs ; or pitches toils to stop their flight : 
 But close engages in unequal fight. 
 And while they strive in vain to make their way 
 Through hills of snow, and pitifully bray, 
 Assaults with dint of sword, or pointed spears. 
 And homeward, on hi| back, the joyful burden bears. 
 
 TDE TROGLODYTES IS Wl M i 1. , mi n, r-.r. I I^CROrOT LIFE ; 
 
 The men to subtc-na a.' - !■ !nr', 
 
 ■Secure from cold, and . p.h-I Ihr ,lir, ilul fire : 
 
 With trunks of elms and onks the hearth they load, 
 
 Nor tempt th' inclemency of heaven abroad. 
 
 Their jovial nights in frolics and in play 
 
 They pass, to drive the tedious hours away. 
 
 And their cold stomachs with crowned goblets cheer 
 
 Of windy cider, and of barmy beer. 
 
 Such are the cold Riphffian race ; and such 
 
 The savage Scythian, and unwarlike Dutch ; — 
 
 Where skins of beasts the rude barbarians wear. 
 
 The spoils of foxes and the furry bear. 
 
 HOW TO SECCRE CLEAN, WHITE FLEECES. — PAN AND DIANA. 
 
 Is wool thy care ? Let not thy cattle go 
 Where bushes are, where burs and thistles grow ; 
 Nor in too rank a pasture let 'em feed : 
 Then of the purest white select thy breed. 
 Ev'n though a snowy ram thou shalt behold, 
 Prefer him not in haste for husband to thy fold. 
 But search his mouth ; and if a swarthy tongue 
 Is underneath his humid palate hung ; 
 Reject him, lest he darken all the flock ; 
 And substitute another from thy stock. 
 'T was thus with fleeces milky white (if we 
 May trust report). Pan, god of Arcady, 
 Did bribe thee, Cynthia ; nor didst thou disdain 
 When called in woody shades to cure a lover's pain. 
 
 If milk be thy design, with plenteous hand 
 Bring olover-grass ; and from the marshy land 
 Salt herbage for the foddering rack provide. 
 To fill their bags, and swell the milky tide : 
 
Those miso thoir thirst, and to the taste restore 
 The savor of the salt, on which they fed before. 
 
 Some, when the kids their dams too deeply drain, 
 With gags and muzzles their soft mouths restrain. 
 Their morning milk the pcastantd press at night ; 
 Their evening meal before tlio rising light 
 To market bear j or sparingly they steep 
 With seasoning salt, and, stored, for Winter keep. 
 
 Tire CABE OF DOGS J WATCU-DOCS ; DOGS OF CHASG. 
 
 Nor, last, forget thy faithful dogs : but food 
 With fattening whey the mastitTs generous breed ; 
 And Spartan race : who, for the fold's relief. 
 Will prosecute with cries the nightly thief : 
 Repulse the prowling wolf, and hold at bay 
 The mountain robber?, rui^hinj; to their prey. 
 With cries of h.niinl., Iliu iili\ t pursue the fear 
 Of flying hare?, ;iiii - ill «. leer; 
 
 Rouse from theii ii. I'l i.i i, tied rage 
 
 Of boars, and \n-.v.ny lu- u, i il- .iigage. 
 
 HOW TO EXPEL SNAKES, ETC. — K 
 
 With smoke of burning cedar i 
 
 3nt thy walls ; 
 And fume with stinking galbanum thy stalls : 
 With that rank odor from thy dwelling-place [race. 
 To drive the viper's brood, and all the venomod 
 For often under stalls, unmoved, they lie. 
 Obscure in shades, and shunning heaven's broad eye; 
 And snakes, familiar, to the hearth succeed. 
 Disclose their eggs, and near the chimney breed. 
 Whether to roofy houses they repair. 
 Or sun themselves abroad in open air, 
 In all abodes, of pestilential kind 
 To sheep and oxen, and the painful hind. 
 Take, shepherd, take a plant of stubborn oak, 
 And labor him with many a sturdy stroke ; 
 Or, with hard stones, demolish from afar 
 His haughty crest, the seat of all the war : 
 Invade his hissing throat, and winding spires. 
 Till, stretched in length, th' unfolded foe retires. 
 He drags his tail, and for his head provides ; 
 And in some secret cranny slowly glides ; [sides. 
 But leaves exposed to blows his back and battered 
 
 In fair Calabria's woods a snake is bred. 
 With curling crest, and with advancing head : 
 Waving he rolls, and makes a winding track ; 
 His belly spotted, burnished is his book. 
 While springs are broken, while the southern air 
 And dropping heavens the moistened earth repair. 
 He lives on standing lakes, and trembling bogs ; 
 He fills his maw with fish, or with loquacious frogs. 
 But when in muddy pools the water sinks. 
 And the chapped earth is furrowed o'er with chinks. 
 He leaves the fens, and leaps upon the ground. 
 And, hissing, roJls his glaring eyes around. 
 With thirst inflamed, impatient of the heats. 
 He rages in the fields, and wide destruction threats. 
 0, let not sleep my closing eyes invade 
 In open plains, or in the secret shade. 
 
 227 
 
 When ho, renewed in all the speckled pride 
 Of pompous youth, has cast his slough aside. 
 And in his summer livery rolls along. 
 Erect, and brandishing his furky tongue, 
 Leaving his nest and his imperfect young ; 
 And, thoughtless of his eggs, forgets to rear 
 The hopes of poison for the following year. 
 
 SICKNESSES OF SHEEP AND THE REMEDIES. — THE SCAB. 
 
 The causes and the signs shall next be told, 
 Of every sickness that infects the fold. 
 A scabby tetter on their pelts will stick. 
 When the raw rain has pierced them to the quick ; 
 
 Or =r:iri liiii/ I'r. t have eaten through the skin ; 
 
 Or I u. lodged within ; 
 
 <*!\\l ,. :' . I -horn, if sweat remains 
 
 I'mMi il' 1, Mil ilk- into their empty veins ; 
 When thi-ir defenceless limbs the brambles tear, 
 Shorn of their wool, and naked from the shear. 
 
 Good shepherds after shearing drench thoir sheep, 
 And their flock's father (forced from high to leap) 
 Swims down the stream, and plunges in the deep. 
 They oint their naked limbs with mothered oil ; 
 Or from the founts where living sulphurs boil, 
 They mix a medicine to foment their limbs ; 
 With scum that on the molten silver swims. 
 Fat pitch, and black bitumen, add tn these. 
 
 Besides, the u;i\i[i l,i' r tlir l.rr- ; 
 
 And hellel.i.i. i i i i m the seas. 
 
 Receipts al i ■ ■ i • ui In -tore. 
 
 And, when 
 Vain help, 
 
 hi I , Inr, till the ci>re be found, 
 
 1- 1-1, and gathers ground ; 
 I:; riuiUe>s moan the shepherd stands, 
 ho luiieing knife requires his hands, 
 ith idle prayers, from heaven demands. 
 
 FEVERS, MrRBAlN, ETC. 
 
 Deep in their bones when fevers fi.i their scat. 
 And rack their limbs, and liuk the vital heat ; 
 The ready euro to cool the raging i)aiu. 
 Is underneath the foot to breathe u vein. 
 This remedy the Scythian shepherds found : 
 The inhabitants of Thracia's hilly ground. 
 The Gelons use it, when for drink and food 
 They mix their curdled milk with horses' blood. 
 
 But when thou secst a single sheep remain 
 In shades aloof, or couched upon the plain ; 
 Or listlessly to crop the tender grass ; 
 Or late to lag behind, with truant pace ; 
 Revenge the crime, and take the traitor's head. 
 Ere in the faultless flock the dire contagion spread. 
 
 On winter seas we fewer storms behold. 
 Than foul diseases that infect the fold. 
 Nor do those ills on single bodies prey ; 
 But oftener bring the nation to decay. 
 And sweep the present stock and future hope away. 
 
 A dire example of this truth appears : 
 When, after such a length of rolling years, 
 
228 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 We see the naked Alps, and thin remains 
 
 Of scattered cots, and yet unpeopled plains : 
 
 Once filled with grazing flocks, the shepherds happy 
 
 A plague did on the dumb creation rise : 
 During the autumnal heats the infection grew, 
 Tame cattle and the beasts of nature slew ; 
 Poisoning the standing lakes, and pools impure ; 
 Nor was the foodful grass in fields secure. 
 Strange death ! for when the thirsty fire had drunk 
 Their vital blood, and the dry nerves were shrunk ; 
 When the contracted limbs were cramped, ev'n then 
 A wat*rish humor swelled and oozed again : 
 Converting into bane the kindly juice, 
 Ordained by nature for a better use. 
 
 THE EFFECTS OF THE SWISS EPIDEMIC ON OXEN, CALVES, 
 
 The victim ox, that was for altars pressed, [drest. 
 Trimmed with white ribbons, and with garlands 
 Sunk of himself, without the gods' command ; 
 Preventing the slow sacrificer's hand. 
 Or, by the holy butcher if he fell, 
 The inspected entrails could no fates foretell : 
 Nor, laid on altars, did pure flames arise ; [fice. 
 But clouds of smouldering smoke forbade the sacri- 
 Searcely the knife was reddened with his gore, 
 Or the black poison stained the sandy floor. 
 The thriven calves in meads their food forsake, 
 And render their sweet souls before the plenteous 
 
 The fawning dog runs mad ; the wheezing swine 
 With coughs is choked, and labors from the chine : 
 
 The victor horse, forgetful of his food. 
 The palm renounces, and abhors the flood. 
 He paws the ground, and on his hanging ears 
 A doubtful >w(';if in flaiinoy drops appears : 
 Parched i,< hi- lihh-. aii.l rugged are his hairs. 
 Such art' tin- syiuptniii^ i.f the young disease ; 
 
 Buti 
 
 ■ s pr( 
 
 ; pain 
 
 Ho rolls his mournful eyes, he deeply groans 
 With patient sobbing, and with manly moans. 
 He heaves for breath ; which from his lungs supplied. 
 And fetched from far, distends his laboring side. 
 To his rough palate his dry tongue succeeds ; 
 And ropy gore he from his nostrils bleeds. 
 A drench of wine has with success been used, 
 And through a horn the generous juice infused : 
 Which timely taken oped his closing jaws ; 
 But, if too late, the patient's death did cause. 
 For the too-vigorous dose too fiercely wrought ; 
 And added fury to the strength it brought. 
 Recruited into rage, he grinds his teeth 
 In his own flesh, and feeds approaching death. 
 Ye gods, to better fate good men dispose, 
 And turn that impious error on our foes ! 
 
 The steer, who to the yoke was bred to bow, 
 Studious of tillage and the crooked plough, 
 Falls down and dies f and dying spews a flood 
 Of foamy madness, mixed with clotted blood. 
 The clown, who, cursing Providence, repines. 
 His mournful fellow from the team disjoins ; 
 AVith many a groan forsakes his fruitless care. 
 And in the unfinished furrow leaves the share. 
 The pining steer no shades of lofty woods 
 Nor flowery meads can ease ; nor crystal floods 
 Rolled from the rock : his flabby flanks decrease ; 
 His eyes are settled in a stupid peace. 
 His bulk too weighty for his thighs is grown ; 
 And his unwieldy neck hangs drooping down. 
 Now what avails his well -deserving toil. 
 To turn the glebe, or smooth the rugged soil ! 
 And yet he never supped in solemn state. 
 Nor undigested feasts did urge his fate ; 
 Nor day to night luxuriously did join ; 
 Nor surfeited on rich Campanian wine. 
 Simple his beverage, homely was his food ; 
 The wholesome herbage, and the running flood ; 
 No dreadful dreams awaked him with aff'right ; 
 His pains by day secured his rest by night. 
 
 'Twas then that buS'aloes, ill-paired, were seen 
 To draw the car of Jove's imperial queen, 
 For want of oxen ; and the laboring swain 
 Scratched with a rake a furrow for his grain : 
 And covered, with his hand, the shallow seed again. 
 He yokes himself, and, up the hilly height. 
 With his own shoulders draws the wagon's weight. 
 
 The nightly wolf, that round the enclosure prowled, 
 To leap the fence, now plots not on the fold — 
 Tamed with a sharper pain : the fearful doe 
 And flying stag amidst the greyhounds go ; [foe. 
 And round the dwellings roam of man, their fiercer 
 The scaly nations of the sea profound 
 Like shipwrecked carcasses are driven aground : 
 And mighty phocje, never seen before 
 In shallow streams, are stranded on the shore. 
 The viper dead within her hole is found ; 
 Defenceless was the shelter of the ground. 
 The water-snake, whom fish and paddocks fed. 
 With staring scales, lies poisoned in his bed ; 
 The birds their native heavens contagious prove, 
 From clouds they fall, and leave their souls above. 
 
 Besides, to change their pasture 't is in vain ; 
 Or trust to physic ; physic is their bane. 
 The learned leaches in despair depart ; 
 And shake their heads, desponding of their art. 
 
 Tisiphone, let loose from under ground, 
 Majestically pale, now treads the round ; 
 Before her drives diseases, and affright ; 
 And every moment rises to the sight : 
 
SUMMER — JDLT. 
 
 Aapinng to tho skies, onoroaohing iin the light. 
 The rivers, and thoir banks, and liills around, 
 With Iciwings, and with dying bloats, resound. 
 At length, she strikes an universal blow ; 
 To death at once whole herds of cattle go : 
 Sheep, oxen, horses, fall ; iind, laiiiicd on high, 
 
 Tho differing .spciir- m , li, n h,.. 
 
 Till, warned b.v Irr,, ,, .,r ,ii M . « ly thoy found 
 To lodge their 1.. ill li m. .inni, "n^fr ground ; 
 For useless U, tlio tiuuci »civ II.. ii hides ; 
 Nor could their tainted Uesli with ocean tides 
 lie freed from filth ; nor could Vulcanian flamo 
 Tho stench abolish, or tho savor tame. 
 Nor .safely could they shear their fleecy store. 
 Made drunk with poisonous juice, and stiff with 
 
 gore, — 
 Or touch the weh ; but if tho vest thoy wear, 
 Red blisters rising on thoir paps appear, 
 And flaming oarhunolos, and noisome sweat, 
 And clammy dews, that loathsome lico beget ; 
 Till tho slow creeping evil oats his way, [prey. 
 
 Consumes the parching limbs, and makes the life his 
 
 In the second ho just stejis uu 
 scriljes that degree of it which is 
 III the third he advances to ni 
 singles out the bee, which may be 
 cious of animals, for his subject. 
 
 each disease. In the last place, he lays down a method 
 of repairing their kind, supposing their whole breed lost, 
 and gives at large the history of its invenUon. 
 
 Tho gifts of heaven my following song pvirsues, 
 Aerial honey, and ambrosial dews. 
 Maecenas, road this other part, that sings 
 Embattled squadrons and adventurous kings ; 
 A mighty pomp, though made of little things. 
 Thoir arms, thoir arts, thoir manners, I disclose, 
 And how they war, and whence tho people rose : 
 Slight is tho subject, but the praise not small. 
 If heaven assist, and Phitbus hear my call. 
 
 BEBS i AWAT FROM COWS, OOATS, 
 l-iaAKOS, BIBDS, A3 THE TITMOUSB, WOODPKOIUiE, SWAL- 
 LOW ; NEAR A BROOK. 
 
 First, for thy beos a quiet station find, 
 And lodge them under covert of tho wind : 
 For winds, when homeward thoy return, will drive 
 The loaded carriers from thoir evening hive. 
 Far from the cows and goats, insulting crow, 
 That trample down tho flowers, and brush tho dow : 
 
 Tho painted liiard, and the birds of prey, 
 
 Foes of tho frugal kind, bo far away. 
 
 Tho titmouse, and tho pecker's hungry brood, I 
 
 And Progne, with her bosom stained in blood ; 
 
 These rob tho trading citizens, and bear 
 
 Tho trembling captives through the liquid air. 
 
 And for their callow young a cruel feast iiroparo. 
 
 liut noar a living stream thoir mansion place, 
 
 Edged round with moss, ond tufts of matted grass : 
 
 And plant (tho winds' impetuous rage to stop) 
 
 Wild olive-trees, or palms, before the bu.sy shop. 
 
 That when tho youthful prince, with proud alarm. 
 
 Calls out the venturous colony to swarm ; 
 
 When first their way through yielding air they wing. 
 
 Now to tho pleasures of their native spring ; 
 
 Tho banks of brooks may make a cool retreat 
 
 For the raw soldiers from the scalding heat : 
 
 And neighboring trees, with friendly shade, invito 
 
 The troops, unused to long laborious flight. 
 
 Then o'er tho running stream, or standing lake, 
 A passage for thy weary people make ; 
 With osier floats tho standing water strew ; 
 Of massy stones make bridges, if it flow : 
 That basking in tho sun thy bees may lie. 
 And resting there their flaggy pinions dry ; 
 When late returning home, the laden host 
 By raging winds is wrecked upon the const. 
 Wild thyme and savory set around their eell ; 
 
 Wild thyme and savory 
 
 Sweet to tho taste, and fniL-inil t^ th.' -.n.ll ; 
 Sot rows of rosemary with !I'>\Miini; -hm. 
 And lot thy purple vioieis .li iuk ih. >iuiiiii. 
 
 Whether thou build the palaoo of thy bees 
 With twisted osiers, or with barks of trees ; 
 Make but a narrow mouth : for as the cold 
 Congeals into a lump tho liquid gold ; 
 So 't is again dissolved by summer's heat. 
 And tho sweet labors both extremes defeat. 
 And, thoroforo, not in vain the industrious kind 
 With dauby wax and flowers tho chinks have lined. 
 And, with their stores of gathered glue, contrive 
 To stop the vents and crannies of their hive. 
 Not bird-lime, or Idean pitoh, produce 
 A more tenacious mass of clammy juice. 
 
 WILD bees' NESra ; VAKIOCS CACTIONS. 
 
 Nor beos aro lodged in hives alone, but found 
 In chambers of their own, beneath the ground : 
 Thoir vaulted roofs are hung in-pumicos. 
 And in tho rotten trunks of hollow trees. 
 
 But pla-ster thou tho ohinky hives with clay, 
 And leafy branches o'er thoir lodging lay. 
 Nor place them where too deep a water flows. 
 Or where tho yew their poisonous neighbor grows ; . 
 Nor roast red crabs to oBcnd tho niconess of their 
 
 Nor) 
 
 ) steaming st«neh of maddy ground ; 
 
230 
 
 RURAL POETRY. VIRGIL. 
 
 Nor hollow rooks that render back the sound, 
 And doubled images of voice rebound. 
 
 HABITS OF BEES IS SPRTSO ; THEIR TODNG. 
 
 For what remains, when golden suns appear. 
 And under earth hare driven the winter year : 
 The winged nation wanders through the skies. 
 And o'er the plains and shady forest Bies ; 
 Then stooping on the meads and leafy bowers, 
 They skim the floods, and sip the purple flowers. 
 Exalted hence, and drunk with secret joy. 
 Their young succession all their cares employ : 
 They breed, they brood, instruct and educate. 
 And make provision for the future state ; 
 They work their waxen lodgings in their hives. 
 And labor honey to sustain their lives. 
 
 SWABMING OF BEES. 
 
 But when thou seest a swarming cloud arise, 
 That sweeps aloft, and darkens all the skies ; 
 The motions of their hasty flight attend, [bend. 
 And know to floods, or woods, their airy march they 
 Then melfoil beat, and honeysuckles pound. 
 With those alluring savors strew the ground, 
 And mix with tinkling brass the cymbal's droning 
 
 Straight to their ancient cells, recalled from air, 
 The reconciled deserters will repair. 
 
 QUABBELS OF BEES. 
 
 But if intestine broils alarm the hive, — 
 For two pretenders oft for empire strive, — 
 The vulgar in divided factions jar. 
 And murmuring sounds proclaim the civil war. 
 Inflamed with ire, and trembling with disdain. 
 Scarce can their limbs their mighty souls contain. 
 With shouts, the coward's courage they excite. 
 And martial clangors call them out to flght : 
 With hoarse alarms the hollow camp rebounds. 
 That imitates the trumpet's angry sounds : 
 Then to their common standard they repair ; 
 The nimble horsemen scour the fields of air. 
 In form of battle drawn, they issue forth, 
 And every knight is proud to prove his worth. 
 Prest for their country's honor, and their king's, 
 On their sharp beaks they whet their pointed stings. 
 And exercise their arms, and tremble with their 
 
 wings. 
 Full in the midst the haughty monarohs ride ; 
 The trusty guards come up, and close the side ; 
 With shouts the daring foe to battle is defied. 
 
 Thus, in the season of unclouded Spring, 
 To war they follow their undaunted king : 
 Crowd through their gates, and in the fields of light 
 The shocking squadrons meet in mortal flght : 
 Headlong they fall from high, and wounded wound. 
 And heaps of slaughtered soldiers bite the ground. 
 Hard hailstones lie not thicker on the plain ; 
 Nor shaken oaks such showers of adorns rain. 
 
 With gorgeous wings, the marks of sovereign sway. 
 The two contending princes make their way ; 
 Intrepid through the midst of dangers go ; 
 Their friends encourage, and amaze the fue. 
 With mighty soyls in narrow bodies prest, 
 They challenge, and encounter breast to breast ; 
 So fixed on fame, unknowing how to fly. 
 And obstinately bent to win or die. 
 That long the doubtful combat they maintain, 
 Till one prevails ; for only one can reign. 
 Yet all those dreadful deeds, this deadly fray, 
 A cast of scattered dust will soon allay. 
 And undecided leave the fortune of the day. 
 When both the chiefs are sundered from the fight. 
 Then to the lawful king restore his right. 
 And let the wasteful prodigal be slain. 
 That he who best deserves alone may reign. 
 
 With ease distinguished is the regal race ; 
 One monarch wears an honest open face ; 
 Shaped to hia size, and godlike to behold. 
 His royal body shines with specks of gold. 
 And ruddy scales ; for empire ho designed. 
 Is hotter born, and of a nobler kind. 
 That other looks like nature in disgrace. 
 Gaunt are' his sides, and sullen is his face : 
 And like their grisly prince appears his gloomy race: 
 Grim, ghastly, rugged, like a thirsty train 
 That long have travelled through a desert plain. 
 And spit from their dry chaps the gathered dust 
 The better brood, unlike the bastard erew, [again. 
 Are marked with royal streaks of shining hue ; 
 Glittering and ardent, though in body less : 
 From these at 'pointed seasons hope to press 
 Huge, heavy honeycombs, of golden juice. 
 Not only sweet, but pure, and fit for use : 
 To allay the strength and hardness of the wine, 
 And with old Bacchus new metheglin join. 
 
 But when the swarms are eager of their play. 
 And loathe their empty hives, and idly stray, 
 Restrain the wanton fugitives, and take 
 A timely eare to bring the truants back. 
 The task is easy, — but to clip the wings 
 Of their high-flying, arbitrary kings : 
 At their command the people swarm away ; 
 Confine the tyrant, and the slaves will stay. 
 Sweet gardens, full of saffron flowers, invite 
 The wandering gluttons, and retard their flight. 
 Besides, the god obscene, who frights away 
 With his lath sword the thieves and birds of prey, 
 With his own hand, the guardian of the bees, 
 For slips of pines may search the mountain trees ; 
 And with wild thyme and savory plant the plain, 
 Till his hard, horny fingers ache with pain ; 
 And deck with fruitful trees the fields around. 
 And with refreshing waters drench the ground. 
 
Now, did I not so near my labors' ond 
 Strike soil, and hastening to the harbor tend, 
 My song to flowery gardens might extend. 
 Til teiiuh the vegetable arts, to sing 
 The IVsliui rcK.s. nnd their double spring : 
 lluw ^u'-i- ly think- Tlir running streams, and how 
 Grt'cii ImiI- mI [.:ii-l, \ tii;ir the river grow ; 
 How ciiriitiil.i r- :il..ii:; tlii' surface Creep, 
 With crooked bodies, and with bellies deep ; 
 The late narcissus, and the winding trail 
 or bears-foot, myrtles green, and ivy pale. 
 
 TUB PRCOiL eOBVCIJlN OiRDENEH OK TiREXTCJI. 
 
 For where with stately towers Tarentum stands, 
 And deep Galcsus soaks the yellow sands, 
 I chanced an old Corycian swiiin to know. 
 Lord of few acres, and those barren too ; 
 Unfit for sheep, or vines, and more unfit to sow • 
 Yet laboring well his little spot of ground. 
 Some scattering pot-herbs here and there he found; 
 "Which, cultivated with his daily care. 
 And bruised with vervain, were his frugal fare. 
 Sometimes white lilies did their leaves afford. 
 With wholesome poppy-8owers to mend his homely 
 
 For late returning home he supped at case. 
 And wisely deemed the wealth of monarchs less 
 Than little of his own, because his own did please. 
 
 nis SKII,!, AND SUCCESS } UMES, APPLES, PEARS, ETC. 
 
 To quit his care, he gathered first of all 
 In Spring the roses, apples in the Fall : 
 And when cold Winter split the rocks in twain, 
 And ice the running rivers did restrain, 
 He stripped the bears-foot of its leafy growth. 
 And, calling western winds, accused the Spring of 
 
 sloth ; 
 He therefore first among the swains was found. 
 To reap the product of his labored ground. 
 And squeeze the combs with golden liquor crowned. 
 His limes were first in flower ; his lofty pines. 
 With friendly shade, secured his tender vines. 
 For ovory bloom his trees in spring afford. 
 An autumn apple was by tale restored. 
 He knew to rank his elms in even rows ; 
 For fruit the grafted pear-tree to dispose ; 
 And tame to plums the sourness of the sloes. 
 With spreading planes he mmie a cool retreat. 
 To shade good fellows from the Summer's heat. 
 But, straitened in my space, I must forsake 
 This task ; for others aftenvards to take. 
 
 Describe we next the nature of the bees, 
 Bestowed by Jove for secret services, 
 When, by the tinkling sound of timbrels led, 
 The King of heaven in Cretan caves they fed. 
 Of all the race of animals, alone 
 The bees have common cities of their own, 
 And common sons ; beneath one Uiw they live, 
 
 281 
 
 And with one common stock their traffic drive. 
 Kach has a certain home, a several stall ; 
 All is the state's, the state provides for all. 
 Mindful of common cold, they share the pain ; 
 And hoard, for winter's use, the summer's gain. 
 VARioi's orriCES or i.xdividual bees. 
 Some o'er the public magazines preside. 
 And some are sent new forage to provide : 
 These drudge in fields abroad, and those at homo 
 Lay deep foundations, for the labored comb, 
 With dew, narcissus-leaves, and clammy gum. 
 To pitch the waxen flooring some contrive ; 
 Some nurse the future nation of the hive; 
 Sweet honey some condense ; some purge the grout; 
 The rest, in cells apart, the liquid nectar shut. 
 All, with united force, combine to drive 
 The lazy drones from the laborious hive. 
 With envy stung, they view each other's deeds ; 
 With diligence the fragrant work proceeds. 
 
 THE inVE COMPARED TO TUB ARMORT Or TBE CYCLOPS. 
 
 As when the Cyclops, at the almighty nod. 
 New thunder hasten for their angry god : 
 Subdued in fire the stubborn metal lies ; 
 One brawny smith the puffing bellows plies. 
 And draws, and blows reciprocating air ; 
 Others to quench the hissing mass prepare : 
 With lifted arms they order every blow. 
 And chime their sounding hammers in a row ; 
 With labored anvils ..Etna groans below. 
 Strongly they strike, huge flakes of flames expire. 
 With tongs they turn the steel, and vex it in the fire. 
 
 If little things with great we may compare, 
 Such are the bees, and such their busy care : 
 Studious of honey, each in his degree, 
 The youthful swain, the grave experienced bee ; 
 That in the field ; this in afiiiirs of state. 
 Employed at home, abides within the gate. 
 To fortify the combs, to build the wall, 
 To prop the ruins, lest the fabric fall : 
 But late at night, with weary pinions come 
 The laboring youth, and heavy laden home. 
 Plains, meads, and orchards, all the day he plies ; 
 The nUans of yellow thyme distend his thighs : 
 lie spiiils the saffron flowers, he sips the blues 
 Of violets, wilding blooms, and willow dews. 
 Their toil is common, common is their sleep ; 
 They shake their wings when morn begins to peep; 
 Rush through the city gates without delay. 
 Nor ends their work but with declining day : 
 Then having spent the last remains of light, 
 They give their bodies due repose at night ; 
 When hollow murmurs of their evening bells 
 Dismiss the sleepy swains, and toll them to their cells. 
 
 When once in beds their weary limbs they steep, 
 No buzzing sounds disturb their golden sleep. 
 
232 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 'T is sacred silence all. Nor dare they stray, 
 When rain is promised, or a stormy day : 
 But near the city walls their watering take, 
 Nor forage far, but short excursions make. 
 
 And as, when empty barks on billows float, 
 With sandy ballast sailors trim their boat ; 
 So bees bear gravel-stones, whose poising weight 
 Steers through the whistling winds their steady 
 flight. 
 
 But, what's more strange, their modest appetites. 
 Averse from Venus, fly the nuptial rites. 
 No lust enervates their heroic mind. 
 Nor wastes their strength on wanton womankind. 
 But in their mouths reside their genial powers, 
 They gather children from the leaves and flowers. 
 Thus make they kings to fill the regal seat ; 
 And thus their little citizens create ; 
 And waxen cities build, and palaces of state. 
 And oft on rocks their tender wings they tear, 
 And sink beneath the burdens which they bear. 
 Such rage of honey in their bosom beats. 
 And such a zeal they have for flowery sweets. 
 
 Thus through the race of life they quickly run ; 
 Which in the space of seven short years is done ; 
 The immortal line in sure succession reigns. 
 The fortune of the family remains ; 
 And grandsires' grandsons the long list contains. 
 
 Besides, not Egypt, India, Media, more 
 With servile awe their idol king adore : 
 While he survives, in concord and content 
 The commons live, by no divisions rent ; [ment. 
 But the great monarch's death dissolves the govern- 
 All goes to ruin, they themselves contrive 
 To rob the honey, and subvert the hive. 
 The king presides, his subjects' toil surveys ; 
 The servile rout their careful Cajsar praise : 
 Him they extol, they worship him alone, 
 They crowd his levees, and support his throne : 
 They raise him on their shoulders with a shout ; 
 And when their sovereign's quarrel calls them out, 
 His foes to mortal combat they defy, 
 And think it honor at his feet to die. 
 
 ANIMAL INSTl.SCTS EXPLAINED. 
 
 Induced by such examples, some have taught 
 That bees have portions of ethereal thought ; 
 Endued with particles of heavenly fires : 
 For God the whole created mass inspires ; [throws 
 Through heaven, and earth, and ocean's depth, He 
 His influence round, and kindles as He goes, [fowls. 
 Hence flocks, and herds, and men, and beasts, and 
 With breath are quickened, and attract their souls; 
 Hence^ take the forms his prescience did ordain, 
 And into Him at length resolve again. 
 No room is left for death, they mount the sky, 
 And to their own congenial planets fly. 
 
 Now when thou hast decreed to seize their stores. 
 And by prerogative to break their doors, 
 With sprinkled water first the city choke, 
 And then pursue the citizens with smoke.' 
 Two honey harvests fall in every year : 
 First, when the pleasing Pleiades appear, 
 And springing upward spurn the briny seas ; 
 Again, when their aS'righted quire surveys 
 The watery Scorpion mend his pace behind. 
 With a black train of storms, and winter wind, 
 They plunge into the deep, and safe protection find. 
 Prone to revenge, the bees, a wrathful race, 
 When once provoked, assault the aggressoi"'s face : 
 And through the purple veins a passage find ; 
 There fix their stings, and leave their souls behind. 
 
 HOW TO DESTBOT THE BEE-MOTH, LIZABDS, ETC. 
 
 But if a pinching winter thou foresee. 
 And wouldst preserve thy famished family ; 
 With fragrant thyme the city fumigate, 
 And break the waxen walls to save the state. 
 For lurking lizards often lodge, by stealth. 
 Within the suburbs, and purloin their wealth. 
 And lizards, shunning light, a dark retreat 
 Have found in combs, and undermined the seat. 
 Or lazy drones, without their share of pain, 
 In winter-quarters free, devour the gain ; 
 Or wasps invest the camp with loud alarms, 
 And mix in battle with unequal arms ; 
 Or secret moths are there in silence fed ; 
 Or spiders in the vault their snary webs have spread. 
 
 The more oppressed by foes, or famine pined. 
 The more increase thy care to save the sinking kind ; 
 With greens and flowers recruit their empty hives, 
 And seek fresh forage to sustain their lives. 
 
 But since they share with man one common fate. 
 In health and sickness, and in turns of state ; 
 Observe the symptoms when they fall away. 
 And languish with insensible decay. 
 They change their hue, with haggard eyes they stare. 
 Lean are their looks, and shagged is their hair : 
 And crowds of dead, that never must return 
 To their loved hives, in decent pomp are borne : 
 Their friends attend the hearse, the next relations 
 
 The sick for air before the portal gasp, 
 Their feeble legs within each other clasp j 
 Or idle in their empty hives remain. 
 Benumbed with cold, and listless of their gain. 
 Soft whispers, then, and broken sounds, are heard, 
 As when the woods by gentle winds are stirred ; 
 Such stifled noise as the close furnace hides, 
 Or dying murmurs of departing tides. 
 
 1 This waste is unnecessary ; it sufBces to place several 
 boxes above each other, with a hole of communication be- 
 tween. The top box is filled first ; a little rapping on it 
 wiU drive the bees down, when it can be taken off, full. j. 
 
SUMMER — JULY. 
 
 This when thou aecat, Qnlbanoan odors use, 
 And honoy in the sickly hivo infuao. 
 Through roodon pipes convoy the golden flood, 
 T' invito tho people to their wonted food ; 
 Mix it with thickened juice of sodden wines, 
 And raisins from the grapes of Psythian vinos : 
 To these add pounded galls, and roses dry, [taury. 
 And with Cecropian thymo, strong-eccnted cen- 
 
 THK AHRLLUS MEDICINK. 
 
 A flower there is, that grows in meadow ground, 
 Amcllus called, and easy to be found ; 
 For from one root the rising stem bestows 
 A wood of leaves, and violet-purple boughs : 
 The flower itself is glorious to behold. 
 And shines on altars like refulgent gold : 
 Sharp to the taste, by shepherds near the stream 
 Of Mella found, and thenco they gave the name. 
 Boll this restoring root in generous wine, 
 And set beside tho door, tho sickly stock to dine. 
 
 But if the laboring kind be wholly lost : 
 And not to be retrieved with care or cost ; 
 'T is time to touch the precepts of an art, 
 The Arcadian master did of old impart ; 
 And how he stocked his empty hives again. 
 Renewed with putrid gore of oxen slain. 
 An ancient legend I prepare to sing. 
 And upward follow fame's immortal spring : 
 
 For where with seven-fold horns mysterious Nile 
 Surrounds the skirts of Egypt's fruitful isle, 
 And where in pomp tho sunburnt people ride. 
 On painted barges, o'er the teeming tide, 
 ■WTiich, pouring down from Ethiopian lands, [sands; 
 Makes green the soil with slime, and black, prolific 
 That length of region, and large tract of ground, 
 In this one art a sure relief have found. 
 First, in a place by nature close, they build 
 A narrow flooring, guttered, walled, and tiled. 
 In this, four windows are contrived, that strike 
 To the four winds opposed, their beams oblique. 
 A steer of two years old they take, whose head 
 Now first with burnished horns begins to spread ; 
 Thoy stop his nostrils, while ho strives in vain 
 To breathe free air, and struggles with his pain. 
 Knocked down, ho dies : his bowels, bruised within, 
 Betray no wound on his unbroken skin. 
 Extended thus, in his obscene abode, [strewed 
 
 Thoy leave the beast ; but first sweet flowers are 
 Beneath his body, broken boughs and thyme. 
 And pleasing cassia just renewed in prime. 
 This must be done ore Spring makes equal day. 
 When western winds on curling waters play : 
 Ere painted meads produce their flowery crops. 
 Or swallows twitter on tho ohimney-tops. 
 The tainted blood, in this close prison pent. 
 Begins to boil, and through the bones ferment. 
 Then, wondrous to behold, new creatures rise, 
 A moving mass at first, and short of thighs ; 
 Till shooting out with legs, and imped with wings. 
 
 Tho grubs proceed to bees with pointed stinga : 
 And more and more afl'eeting uir, thoy try 
 Their tender pinions, and begin to fly. [clouds. 
 
 At length, like summer storms from spreading 
 That burst at once, and pour impetuous floods ; 
 Or nights of arrows from the Parthian bows, 
 When from afar they gall embattled foes ; 
 With such a tempest through the skies they steer; 
 And such a form the winged squadron J boar. 
 
 SIORV OF ARIST.BCS AND niS UOTBKR CTag.NK. — TBK PLilST 
 
 Wliiit jriHl, O nmse, this useful science taught? 
 Or l'> ^^!l ii [liih - I \[.rrience was it brought ? 
 
 .-.I ' ,11, I. !M luir Tempo fled. 
 Hi- 1 I I :i'''. ur diseases, dead ; 
 
 Oil 1'* ii. ii-- i..iitU-' It*.' .-.loud, and near his holy head. 
 And while his falling tears the stream supplied. 
 Thus, mourning, to his mother goddess cried. 
 Mother Cyrene, mother, whose abode 
 Is in tho depth of this immortal flood ; 
 What boots it that from Phcebus' loins I spring, 
 The third, by him and thee, from heaven's high 
 ! where is all thy boasted pity gone, [king: 
 
 And promise of the skies to thy deluded son ? 
 Why didst thou mo, unhappy me, create ? 
 Odious to gods, and born to bitter fate. [plough. 
 Whom scarce my sheep, and scarce my painful 
 The needful aids of human life allow : 
 So wretched is thy son, so hard a mother thou. 
 Proceed, inhuman parent, in thy scorn ; 
 Root up my trees, with blights destroy my com ; 
 My vineyards ruin, and my sheep-folds burn : — 
 Let loose thy rage, let all thy spite be shown. 
 Since thus thy hate pursues the praises of thy son. 
 
 But from her mossy bower below the ground, 
 llis careful mother heard the plaintive sound. 
 Encompassed with her sea-green sisters round. 
 One common work thoy plied : their distafls full 
 With carded locks of blue Milesian wool. 
 Spio with Drymo brown, and Xanthe fair, 
 Anil sweet Phyllodooo with long dishevelled hair : 
 Cydippo with Lycorias, ono a maid. 
 And one that once bad called Lucina's aid. 
 Olio and Beroe, from one father both. 
 Both girt with gold, and clad in parti-oolorcd cloth. 
 Opis the meek, and Deiopeia proud ; 
 Niswa lofty, with Ligma loud ; 
 Thalia joyous, Ephyre the sad. 
 And Arothusa, onoo Diana's maid. 
 But now, her quiver loft, to love betrayed. 
 To these Clymeno the sweet theft declares 
 Of Mars' and Vulcan's unavailing eares : 
 And all the rapes of gods, and every love. 
 From ancient Chaos down to youthful Jove, 
 
 Thus while she sings, tho sisters turn the wheel, 
 Empty tho woolly rock, and fill the reel. 
 A mournful sound again tho mother hears ; 
 Again tho mournful sound invades tho sisters' ears: 
 
 30 
 
234 
 
 RURAL POETRY. VIRGIL. 
 
 Starting at onoe from their green seats, they rise ; 
 
 Fear in their hearts, amazement in their eyes. 
 
 But Arethusa, leaping from her bed, 
 
 First lifts above the waves her beauteous head ; 
 
 And, crying from afar, thus to Cyrenc said. 
 
 sister ! not with causeless fear possest. 
 
 No stranger voice disturbs thy tender breast. 
 
 'T is Aristeus, 't is thy darling son, 
 
 Who to his careless mother makes his moan. 
 
 Near Ids paternal stream he sadly stands, 
 
 With downcast eyes, wet cheeks, and folded hands, 
 
 Upbraiding heaven from whence his lineage came; 
 
 And cruel calls the gods, and cruel thee, by name. 
 
 CYRENB RECEIVES HEB SON ; THE HOMES OF THE RIVERS 
 iSD LAKES. 
 
 Cyrene, moved with love, and seized with fear. 
 Cries out, conduct my son, conduct him here : 
 'T is lawful for the youth, derived from gods, 
 To view the secrets of our deep abodes. 
 At once she waved her hand on either side, 
 At once the ranks of swelling streams divide. 
 Two rising heaps of liquid crystal stand. 
 And leave a space betwixt, of empty sand. 
 Thus safe received, the downward track he treads, 
 Which to his mother's watery palace leads. 
 With wondering eyes he views the secret store 
 Of lakes, that pent in hollow caverns roar ; 
 He hears the crackling sound of coral woods, 
 And sees the secret source of subterranean floods. 
 And where, distinguished in their several cells. 
 The fount of Phasis and of Lycus dwells ; 
 Where swift Euipeus in his bed appears. 
 And Tiber his majestic forehead rears. 
 Whence Anio flows, and Hypanis, profound. 
 Breaks through th' opposing rocks with raging 
 Where Po first issues from his dark abodes, [sound. 
 And, awful in his cradle, rules the floods. 
 Two golden horns on his large front he wears. 
 And his grim face a hull's resemblance bears. 
 With rapid course he seeks the sacred main. 
 And fattens, as he runs, the fruitful plain. 
 
 THE WATER PALACE OF CYEESE, AND HEB ENTERTAINMENT. 
 
 Now to the court arrived, the admiring son 
 Beholds the vaulted roofs of pory stone ; 
 Now to his mother goddess tells his grief, 
 Which she with pity hears, and promises relief. 
 Th' ofiicious nymphs, attending in a ring, 
 With water drawn from their perpetual spring. 
 From earthly dregs his body purify, 
 And rub his temples, with fine towels, dry : 
 Then load the tables with a liberal feast. 
 And honor with full bowls their friendly guest. 
 The sacred altars are involved in smoke. 
 And the bright choir their kindred gods invoke. 
 Two bowls the mother fills with Lydian wine ; 
 Then thus, ' Let these be poured, with rites divine. 
 To the great authors of our watery line ; 
 To father Ocean, this ; and this, she said. 
 Be to the Nymphs, his sacred sisters, paid, [shade.' 
 Who rule the watery plains, and hold the woodland 
 
 She sprinkled thrice with wine the vestal fire, 
 Thrice to the vaulted roof the flames aspire. 
 Raised with so blest an omen, she begun. 
 With words like these," to«heer her drooping son. 
 
 In the Carpathian bottom makes abode 
 The shepherd of the seas, a prophet and a god ; 
 High o'er the main in watery pomp he rides, 
 His azure oar and finny coursers guides : 
 Proteus his name : to his Pallenian port 
 I see from far the weary god resort. 
 Him not alone we river gods adore. 
 But aged Nereus hearkens to his lore. 
 With sure foresight, and with unerring doom, 
 He sees what is, and was, and is to come. 
 This Neptune gave him, when he gave to keep 
 His scaly flocks, that graze the watery deep. 
 Implore his aid, for Proteus only knows 
 The secret cause, and cure of all thy woes. 
 But first the wily wizard must be caught, 
 For, unconstrained, he nothing tells for naught ; 
 Nor is with prayers, or bribes, or flattery bought. 
 Surprise him first, and with hard fetters bind ; 
 Then all his frauds will vanish into wind. 
 I will myself conduct thee on thy way, 
 When next the southing sun inflames the day : 
 When the dry herbage thirsts for dews in vain. 
 And sheep, in shades, avoid the parching plain, 
 Then will I lead thee to his secret seat ; 
 When, weary with his toil, and scorched with heat. 
 The wayward sire frequents his cool retreat. 
 His eyes with heavy slumber overcast, 
 With force invade his limbs, and bind him fast : 
 Thus surely bound, yet be not over bold, 
 The slippery god will try to loose his hold, 
 And various forms assume to cheat thy sight, 
 And with vain images of beasts affright : 
 With foamy tusks will seem a bristly boar, 
 Or imitate the lion's angry roar ; 
 Break out in crackling flames to shun thy snares, 
 Or hiss a dragon, or a tiger stares ; 
 Or with a wile, thy caution to betray. 
 In fleeting streams attempt to slide away. 
 But thou, the more he varies forms, beware 
 To strain his fetters with a stricter care : 
 Till, tiring all his arts, he turns again 
 To his true shape, in which he first was seen. 
 
 This said, with nectar she her son anoints ; 
 Infusing vigor through his mortal joints : 
 Down from his head the liquid odors ran ; 
 He breathed of heaven, and looked above a man. 
 
 Within a mountain's hollow womb there lies 
 A large recess, concealed from human eyes ; 
 Where heaps of billows, driven by wind and tide, 
 In form of war, their watery ranks divide ; 
 And there, like sentries set, without the mouth 
 abide ; 
 
SUMMER — JULY. 
 
 235 
 
 A station safe for ships, when tempests roar, 
 
 A silent harbor, and a covered shore. 
 
 Secure within resides the various god. 
 
 And draws a rook upon his dark abode. 
 
 Hither with silent stops, secure from sight. 
 
 The goddess guides her son, and turns him from 
 
 the light : 
 Herself, involved in clouds, precipitates her flight. 
 
 'T was noon j the sultry dog-star from the sky 
 Scorched Indian swains, the rivellcd grass was dry ; 
 The sun with flaming arrows pierced the flood, 
 And, darting to the bottom, baked the mud : 
 When weary Proteus, from the briny waves, 
 Retired for shelter to his wonted caves : 
 His finny flocks about their shepherd play. 
 And, rolling round him, spirt the bitter sea. 
 XJnwieldily they wallow first in ooze. 
 Then in the shady covert seek repose. 
 Himself their herdsman, on the middle mount, 
 Takes of his mustered flocks a just account. 
 So, seated on a rock, a shepherd's groom 
 Surveys his evening flocks returning home ; 
 When lowing calves, and bleating Iambs, from far. 
 Provoke the prowling wolf to nightly war. 
 
 The 
 
 [ PBOTECS. 
 
 offers, and the youth compIi( 
 
 For scarce the weary god had closed his eyes. 
 
 When rushing on, with shouts, he binds in chains 
 
 The drowsy prophet, and his limbs constrains. 
 
 lie, not unmindful of his usual art. 
 
 First in dissembled fire attempts to part ; 
 
 Then roaring beasts, and running streams, he tries. 
 
 And wearies all his miracles of lies ; 
 
 But having shifted every form to 'scape. 
 
 Convinced of conquest, he resumed his shape ; 
 
 And thus, at length, in human accent spoke. 
 
 Audacious youth, what madness could provoke 
 
 A mortal man t' invade a sleeping god ? 
 
 What business brought thee to my dark abode ? 
 
 To this the audacious youth : thou know'st full 
 My name and business, god, nor need I tell : [well 
 No man can Proteus cheat ; but, Proteus, leave 
 Thy fraudful arts, and do not thou deceive. 
 Following the gods' command, I come t' implore 
 Thy help, my perished people to restore. 
 
 The seer, who could not yet his wrath assuage. 
 Rolled his green eyes, that sparkled with his rage ; 
 And gnashed his teeth, and cried. No vulgar god 
 Pursues thy crimes, nor with a common rod. 
 Thy great misdeeds have met a due reward. 
 And Orpheus' dying prayers at length are heard. 
 For crimes not his tho lover lost his life. 
 And at thy hands requires his murdered wife : 
 Nor (if the fates assist not) canst thou 'scape 
 The just revenge of that intended rape. 
 
 To shun thy lawless lust, the dying bride. 
 Unwary, took along tho river's side. 
 Nor at her heels perceived the deadly snake, 
 Tliat keeps the bank, in covert of the brake. 
 But all her fellow-nymphs the mountjiins tear 
 With loud laments, and break tho yielding air 
 The realms of Mars re-murmured all around. 
 And echoes to th' Athenian shores rebound. 
 
 I more, 
 [store. 
 
 Ami .11 :,: 1 with music to re- 
 
 Oii lliti-, .I..11 1. ... , ... .iv-i.,= .ill alone. 
 
 Ho called, sighed, sung; his griefs with day begun, 
 
 Nor wore they finished with tho setting sun. 
 
 Ev'n to the dark dominions of tho night 
 
 He took his way, through forests void of light ; 
 
 And dared amidst the trembling ghosts to sing; 
 
 And stood before th' inexorable king. 
 
 ORPBEOS VISITS nELL. 
 
 Th' infernal troops like passing shadows glide. 
 And, listening, crowd the sweet musician's side : 
 Not flocks of birds, when driven by storms or night, 
 Stretch to the forest with so thick a flight. 
 Men, matrons, children, and the unmarried maid. 
 The mighty hero's more majestic shade, [laid. 
 
 And youths on funeral piles before their parents 
 All these Cocytus bounds with squalid reeds. 
 With muddy ditches, and with deadly weeds : 
 
 ^^ ".■.'. ni^ -tr.-alii 
 
 The gaping I 
 The furies li. 
 
 1. 1 ly ground. 
 
 standing wheel. 
 
 E, LOOKS BiCK, AND 
 
 All dangers past, at length the lovely bride 
 In safety goes, with her melodious guide ; 
 Longing the common light again to share. 
 And draw the vital breath of upper air : 
 He first, and close behind him followed she. 
 For such was Proserpine's severe decree. 
 When strong desires th' impatient youth invado ; 
 By little caution and much lovo betrayed : 
 A fault which easy pardon might receive, 
 Were lovers judges, or could hell forgive. 
 For near the confines of ethereal liglit. 
 And longing for tho glimmering of a sight. 
 The unwary lover cast his eyes behind. 
 Forgetful of the law, nor master of his mind. 
 
 Straight all his hopes exhaled in empty smoke ; 
 And his long toils were forfeit for a look. 
 Three flashes of blue lightning gave the sign 
 Of cov'nants broke, throe peals of thunder join. 
 Then thus the bride : What fury seized on thee, 
 Unhappy man ! to lose thyself and mo ? 
 
RURAL POETRY. VIRGIL. 
 
 Dragged back again by cruel destinies, 
 
 An iron slumber shuts my swimming eyes. 
 
 And now farewell, — involved in shades of night, 
 
 Forever I am ravished from thy sight. 
 
 In vain I reach my feeble hands, to join 
 
 In sweet embraces ; ah ! no longer thine ! 
 
 She said, and from his eyes the fleeting fair 
 
 Retired, like subtile smoke dissolved in air ; 
 
 And left her hopeless lover in despair. 
 
 In vain, with folding arms, the youth assayed 
 
 To stop her flight, and strain the flying shade : 
 
 He prays, he raves, all means in vain he tries, 
 
 With rage inflamed, astonished with surprise : 
 
 But she returned no more, to bless his longing eyes. 
 
 THE GRIEF OF OEPHBCS ; THE BEREAVED NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 Nor would the infernal ferryman once more 
 Be bribed, to waft him to the further shore. 
 What should he do, who twice had lost his love? 
 What notes invent, what new petitions move ? 
 Her soul already was consigned to fate, 
 And shivering in the leaky sculler sat. 
 For seven continued months, if fame say true, 
 The wretched swain his sorrows did renew ; 
 By Strymon's freezing streams he sat alone, 
 The rocks were moved to pity with his moan : 
 Trees bent their heads to hear him sing his wrongs, 
 Fierce tigers couched around, and lolled their fawn- 
 ing tongues. 
 
 So, close in poplar shades, her children gone, 
 The mother-nightingale laments alone : 
 Whose nest some prying churl had found, and thence, 
 By stealth, conveyed th' unfeathered 
 But she supplies the night with mournful 
 And melancholy music fills the plains. 
 
 Sad Orpheus thus his tedious hours employs, 
 Averse from Venus, and from nuptial joys. 
 Alone he tempts the frozen floods, alone 
 Th' unhappy climes, where Spring was never known ; 
 He mourned his wretched wife, in vain restored, 
 And Pluto's unavailing boon deplored. 
 
 The Thracian matrons, who the youth accused 
 Of love disdained, and marriage-rites refused. 
 With furies and nocturnal orgies fired. 
 At length against his sacred life conspired, [killed 
 Whom ev'n the savage beasts had spared, they 
 And strewed his mangled limbs about the field. 
 Then, when his head, from his fair shoulders torn. 
 Washed by the waters, was on Hehrus borne, — . 
 Ev'n then his trembling tongue invoked his bride ; 
 With his last voice, Eurydioe, he cried, 
 Eurydioe, the rocks and river-banks replied. 
 
 The nymph returned, her drooping son to cheer. 
 And bade him banish his superfluous fear : 
 For now, said she, the cause is known from whence 
 Thy woe succeeded, and for what ofience : 
 The nymphs, companions of th' unhappy maid, 
 This punishment upon thy crimes have laid ; 
 And sent a plague among thy thriving bees. 
 With vows and suppliant prayers their powers ap- 
 The soft Naptean race will soon repent [pease : 
 
 Their anger, and remit the punishment : 
 The secret in an easy method lies ; 
 Select four brawny bulls for sacrifice. 
 Which on Lycieus graze, without a guide ; 
 Add four fair heifers yet in yoke untried : 
 For these, four altars in their temple rear. 
 And then adore the woodland powers with prayer. 
 From the slain victims pour the streaming blood, 
 And leave the bodies in the shady wood : 
 Nine mornings thence, Lethsean poppy bring, 
 To appease the manes of the poet's king : 
 And, to propitiate his offended bride, 
 A fatted calf and a black ewe provide ! 
 This finished, to the former woods repair. 
 
 This answer Proteus gave, nor more he said, 
 But in the billows plunged his hoary head ; [spread. 
 And where he leaped, the waves in circles widely 
 
 His mother's precepts he performs with care ; 
 The temple visits, and adores with prayer. 
 Four altars raises ; from his herd he culls. 
 For slaughter, four the fairest of his bulls ; 
 Four heifers from his female store he took, 
 All fair, and all unknowing of the yoke. 
 Nine mornings thence, with sacrifice and prayers, 
 The powers atoned, he to the grove repairs. 
 Behold a prodigy ! for from within 
 The broken bowels, and the bloated skin, 
 A buzzing noise of bees his ears alarms,— 
 Straight issue through the sides assembling swarms; 
 Dark as a cloud they make a wheeling flight. 
 Then on a neighboring tree, descending, light : 
 Like a large cluster of black grapes they show. 
 And make a large dependence from the bough. 
 
 COSCLCSIOS OF TBB GEORGICS. — COMPLIMENT TO CESAR J 
 
 Thus have I sung of fields, and flocks, and trees. 
 And of the waxen work of laboring bees: 
 While mighty Cajsar, thundering from afar. 
 Seeks on Euphrates' banks the spoils of war ; 
 With conquering arts asserts his country's cause. 
 With arts of peace the willing people draws ; 
 On the glad earth the Golden Age renews. 
 And his great father's path to heaven pursues. 
 While I at Naples pass my peaceful days. 
 Affecting studies of less noisy praise : [shade. 
 
 And bold, through youth, beneath the beechen 
 The lays of shepherds, and their loves have--played. 
 
a-lriuj autf Tuillati for |u(]|. 
 
 GRAY'S "ELEGY," 
 
 \ COUNTRY CHURCB-YABD. 
 
 The curfew toll8 the knoll of parting day, 
 
 The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, 
 The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
 
 And leaves the world to darkness and to mo. 
 Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight. 
 
 And all the air a solemn stillness holds. 
 Save where the beetle wheels his drony flight, 
 
 And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; 
 Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower. 
 
 The moping owl docs to the moon complain 
 Of such as, wandering near her secret bower. 
 
 Molest her ancient, solitary reign. 
 Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 
 
 Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 
 Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 
 
 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 
 
 The brec7,y call of incense-breathing morn. 
 
 The swallow, twittering from the straw-built shod. 
 
 The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
 No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 
 
 For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn. 
 Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; 
 
 Nor chililreu run to lisp their sire's return. 
 Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. 
 
 Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield ; 
 
 Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; 
 How jocund did they drive their teams afield ! 
 
 How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! 
 
 Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 
 
 Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 
 Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile 
 
 The short and simple annals of the poor. 
 The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power. 
 
 And all that beauty, all that wealth, o'er gave, 
 Await, alike, the ineviUiblo hour ; 
 
 The paths of glory load but to the grave. 
 Nor you, yo proud ! impute to these the fault. 
 
 If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, 
 Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault 
 
 The pealing antliem swells the note of praise. 
 Can storied urn, or animated bust. 
 
 Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? 
 Can Honor's voice provoke the silent du.st. 
 
 Or Flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death ? 
 
 Perhaps in this noglccted spot is laid 
 
 Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire : 
 Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed. 
 
 Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. 
 But Knowledge to their eyes her ani-ple page. 
 
 Rich with the sjioils of time, did ne'er unroll ; 
 Chill Penury repressed their noble rage. 
 
 And froze the genial current of the soul. 
 Full many a gem, of purest ray serene. 
 
 The dark, unfathomcd caves of ocean bear ; 
 Full many a flower is born to blush nnseen, 
 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 
 Some village Hiimpden, that with dauntless breast 
 
 The little tyrant of his fields withstood, — 
 Some mute, inglorious Milton, — hero may rest ; 
 
 Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. 
 The applause of listening senates to command, 
 
 The threats of pain and ruin to despise. 
 To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land. 
 
 And read their history in a nation's eyes, — 
 Their lot forbade ; nor circumscribed alone 
 
 Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; 
 Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, 
 
 And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; 
 The struggling pangs of conscious (ruth to hide. 
 
 To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, 
 Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride 
 
 With incense kindled at the muse's flame. 
 Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife 
 
 Their sober wishes never learned to stray ; 
 Along the cool sequestered vale of life 
 
 They kept the noiseless tenor of their woy. 
 Yet even these bones from insult to protect. 
 
 Some frail memorial still erected nigh. 
 With uncouth rhjrmes and shapeless sculpture decked. 
 
 Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 
 Their name, their years; spelt by the unlettered muse, 
 
 The place of fame and elegy supply : 
 And many a holy text around she strews. 
 
 That teach the rustic moralist to die. 
 For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey. 
 
 This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned. 
 Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day. 
 
 Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind? 
 On some fond breast the parting soul relies. 
 
 Some pious drops the closing eye requires : 
 
 Ev'n from the tomb the voice of nature cries, 
 
 Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. 
 
238 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — GRAY — BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 For thee, who, mindful of the unhonored dead, 
 
 Dost in these lines their artless tale relate ; 
 If, chance, by lonely Contemplation led, 
 
 Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, — 
 Ilaply some hoary-headed swain may say, 
 
 * Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn, 
 Brushing, with hasty steps, the dews away, 
 
 To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 
 ' There at the foot of yonder nodding beech. 
 
 That wreathes its old fantastic root so high, 
 His listless length at noontide would he stretch, 
 
 And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 
 
 * Hard by yon wood, now smiling, as in scorn. 
 
 Muttering his wayward fancies, he would rove ; 
 Now drooping, woful-wan, like one forlorn, 
 
 Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love : 
 ' One morn I missed him on the 'customed hill, 
 
 Along the heath, and near his favorite tree : 
 Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, 
 
 Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood, was he. 
 
 * The next, with dirges due, in sad array, [borne ; 
 
 Slow through the church-yard path we saw him 
 Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay. 
 Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.' 
 
 THE EPITAPH. 
 
 Here rests his head upon the lap of earth 
 
 A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown ; 
 Fair vScience frowned not on his humble birth. 
 
 And Melancholy marked him for her own. 
 Large was his "bounty, and his soul sincere. 
 
 Heaven did a recompense as largely send : 
 lie gave to Misery all he had, a tear ; [friend. 
 
 He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wished) a 
 No further seek his merits to disclose, 
 
 Or draw his frailties from their dread abode — 
 There they alike in trembling hope repose — 
 
 The bosom of his Father and his God. 
 
 BLOOMFIELD'S «' DOLLY." 
 
 * Ingenuous trust, and confidence of Love. 
 The bat began, with giddy wing, 
 
 His circuit round the shed, the tree ; 
 And clouds of dancing gnats to sing 
 
 A summer night's serenity. 
 Darkness crept slowly o'er the east ; 
 
 Upon the barn-roof watched the cat ; 
 Sweet breathed the ruminating beast 
 
 At rest where Dolly musing sat. 
 A simple maid, who could employ 
 
 The silent lapse of evening mild. 
 And loved its solitary joy : 
 
 For Dolly was Reflection's child. 
 Ho who had pledged his word to be 
 
 Her life's dear guardian, far rtway, 
 The flower of yeoman cavalry, 
 
 Bestrode a steed with trappings gay. 
 
 And thus from Memory's treasured sweets. 
 
 And thus from Love's pure fount, she drew 
 That peace which busy Care defeats. 
 
 And bids our pleasures bloom anew. 
 Six weeks of absence have I borne 
 
 Since Henry took his fond farewell : 
 The charms of that delightful morn 
 
 My tongue could thus forever tell. 
 He at my window, whistling loud, 
 
 Aroused my lightsome heart to go : 
 Day, conquering, climbed from cloud to cloud ; 
 
 Tlie fields all wore a purple glow. 
 We strolled the bordering flowers among : 
 
 One hand the bridle held behind, 
 The other round my waist was flung : 
 
 Sure never youth spuke half so kind ! 
 The rising lark I could but hear ; 
 
 And jocund seemed the song to be : 
 But sweeter sounded in my ear, 
 
 ' Will Dolly still be true to me ! ' 
 From the rude dock my skirt had swept 
 
 A fringe of clinging burs so green ; 
 Like them our hearts still closer crept, 
 
 And hooked a thousand holds unseen. 
 High o'er the road each branching bough 
 
 Its globes of silent dew had shed ; 
 And on the pure-washed sand below 
 
 The dimpling drops around had spread. 
 The sweet-brier oped its pink-eyed rose, 
 
 And gave its fragrance to the gale ; 
 Though modest flowers may sweets disclose. 
 
 More sweet was Henry's earnest tale. 
 He seemed, methought, on that dear morn, 
 
 To pour out all his heart to me ; 
 As if, the separation borne, 
 
 The coming hours would joyless be. 
 A bank rose high beside the way. 
 
 And full against the morning sun ; 
 Of heavenly blue the violets gay 
 
 His hand invited one by one. 
 The posy with a smile he gave : 
 
 I saw his meaning in his eyes : 
 The withered treasure still I have ; 
 
 My bosom holds the fragrant prize. 
 With his last kiss he would have vowed ; 
 
 But blessings, crowding, forced their way : 
 Then mounted he his courser proud ; 
 
 His time elapsed, he could not stay. 
 Then first I felt the parting pang ; — 
 
 Sure the worst pang the lover feels ! 
 His horse, unruly, from me sprang — 
 
 The pebbles flew beneath bis heels. 
 Then down the road his vigor tried. 
 
 His rider gazing, gazing still : 
 • My dearest, I '11 be true,* he cried ; — 
 
 And, if he lives, I'm sure he will. 
 Then haste, yo hours, — haste. Eve and Morn, - 
 
 Yet strew your blessings round my home : 
 Ere Winter's blasts shall strip the thorn. 
 
 My promised joy, my Love, will come. 
 
gliltou's "plural ^locms." 
 
 
 " L'ALLEGRO." 
 
 And to the stack, or the bam-door. 
 
 
 Stoutly struts his dames before : 
 
 
 Hence, lonthM Mol«nch..l.v, 
 
 Oft listening how the hounds and horn 
 
 
 Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight bom, 
 
 Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn. 
 
 
 In Stygian ciivo forlorn, [holy, 
 
 From the si.le of some hoar hill. 
 
 
 'Jlongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights un- 
 
 Through the high wood echoing shrill : 
 
 
 Find out some uncouth cell. 
 
 Some time walking, not unseen. 
 
 
 Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings. 
 
 By hedge-row elms on hillocks green, 
 
 
 And the night raven sings j 
 
 Eight against the eastern gate. 
 
 
 There under ebon shades and low-browod rooks, 
 
 WTiere the great sun begins his stotc. 
 
 
 As ragged as thy locks. 
 
 Robed in flames, and amber light. 
 
 
 In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. 
 
 The clouds in thousand liveries dight. 
 
 
 But come, thou goddess fair and free, 
 
 AThile the ploughman near at hand 
 
 
 In heaven ycleped Euphrosyne, 
 
 Whistles o'er the furrowed land, 
 
 
 And by men, heart^asing Mirth, 
 
 And the milk-maid singeth blithe. 
 
 
 Whom lovely Venus, at a birth 
 
 And the mower whets his scythe, 
 
 
 
 And every shepherd tells his talo 
 
 
 To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore ; 
 
 Under the hawthorn in the dale. 
 
 
 Or whether (as some sages sing) 
 
 Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures 
 
 
 The frolic wind that breathes the Spring, 
 
 Whilst the landscape round it measures. 
 
 
 Zephyr with Aurora playing, 
 
 Russet lawns, and fallows gray, 
 
 
 As he met her once a-maying. 
 
 Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; 
 
 
 There on beds of violets blue, 
 
 Mountains on whose barren breast 
 
 
 And fresh-blown roses washed in dew, 
 
 The laboring clouds do often rest. 
 
 
 Filled her with thee a daughter fair. 
 
 Meadows trim with daisies pied, 
 
 
 So bu.xom, blithe, and debonair. 
 
 Shallow ln.."k.. iui.l nxrrs wide. 
 
 
 Haste thee, nymph, and bring with theo 
 
 Towers iiiMl i.,,iil'.,i. ,.•- ii srt's 
 
 
 .lest and youthful Jollity. 
 
 Bosomi^a liiji in iuii..l iifL-s. 
 
 
 Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, 
 
 Whero imiIm, m. i • .mty lies. 
 
 
 N..fls. and Hecks, and wreathed Smiles, 
 
 TheevM. -";. . 1 ■,' ' iingoycs. 
 
 
 Such as hang on Hebe's cheek. 
 
 Hardtiv .y smokes, 
 
 
 And love to live in dimple sleek ; 
 
 Froml..'t".M t" . ,..L.:.ks, 
 
 
 Sport, that wrinkled Care derides. 
 
 Where C*,ryd..n and Tli.vrsis, met. 
 
 
 And Laughter holding both his sides. 
 
 Are at their savory dinner set 
 
 
 Come, and trip it as you go 
 
 Of herbs and other country messes, 
 
 
 On the light fantastic toe. 
 
 Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses ; 
 
 
 And in thy right hand load with theo 
 
 And then in haste her bower she leaves, 
 
 
 The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty ; 
 
 With Thestylis to bind the sheaves ; 
 
 
 And if I give thee honor duo. 
 
 Or, if the earlier season lead. 
 
 
 Jlirth, admit mo of thy crew. 
 
 To the tanned haycock in the mead. 
 
 
 To live with her, and live with theo, 
 
 
 
 In unreproved pleasures free ; 
 
 The uplond hamlets will invito. 
 
 
 To hear the lark begin his flight. 
 
 When the merry bells ring rouhd. 
 
 
 And, singing, startle the dull night, 
 
 And the jocund rebecs sound 
 
 i 
 
 From his watch-tower in the skies, 
 
 To many a youth and many a maid. 
 
 i 
 
 Till the dappled dawn doth rise : 
 
 Dancing in the checkered shade ; 
 
 
 Then to come, in spite of Sorrow, 
 
 And young and old come forth to play 
 
 
 And at ray window bid good-morrow. 
 
 On a sunshiufl holiday, 
 
 
 Through the sweet-brier, or the vine. 
 
 Till the live-long daylight fail ; 
 
 
 Or the twisted eglantine : ■ 
 
 Then to the spicy, nut-brown ale. 
 
 
 While the cock with lively din 
 
 With stories told of many a feat, 
 
 
 Scatters the rear of darkness thin. 
 
 How foiry Mab tho junkets eat ; 
 
 
240 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — MILTON. 
 
 She was pinched and pulled, she said ; 
 And he, by friar's lanthorn led, 
 Tells how the drudging goblin sweat, 
 To earn his cream-bowl duly set, 
 When, in one night, ere glimpse of morn. 
 His shadowy flail hath thrashed the corn 
 That ten day-laborers could not end ; 
 Then lies him down, the lubber flend, 
 And, stretched out all the chimney's length, 
 Basks at the fire his hairy strength. 
 And croi>full out of doors he flings, 
 Ere the first cock his matin rings. 
 Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, 
 By whispering winds soon lulled asleep. 
 
 Towered cities please us then. 
 And the busy hum of men. 
 Where throngs of knights and barons bold 
 In weeds of peace high triumphs hold, 
 With store of ladies, whose bright eyes 
 Bain influence, and judge the prize 
 Of wit, or arms, while both contend 
 To win her grace whom all commend. 
 There let Hymen oft appear 
 In safi'ron robe, with taper clear. 
 And Pomp, and Feast, and Revelry, 
 With Mask and antii|ue Pageantry, 
 Such sights as youthful poets dream 
 On summer eves by haunted stream. 
 Then to the well-trod stage anon, 
 If Jonson's learned sock be on. 
 Or sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's child, 
 Warble his native wood-notes wild. 
 
 And ever, against eating cares. 
 Lap me in soft Lydian airs, 
 Married to immortal Verse, 
 Such as the meeting soul may pierce 
 In notes with many a winding bout 
 Of linked sweetness long drawn out. 
 With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, 
 The melting voice through mazes running. 
 Untwisting all the chains that tie 
 The hidden soul of harmony ; 
 That Orpheus' self may heave his head 
 From golden slumber on a bed 
 Of heaped Elysian flowers, and hear 
 Such strains as would have won the ear 
 Of Pluto, to have quite set free 
 His half-regained Eurydice. 
 
 These delights if thou canst give, 
 Mirth, with thee I mean to live. 
 
 "IL PENSEROSO." 
 
 Hence, vain deluding .Toys, 
 The brood of Folly, without father bred, 
 
 How little you bestead, 
 Or fill the fi.xed mind with all your toys ! 
 
 Dwell in some idle brain, 
 And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess. 
 
 As thick and numberless 
 As the gay motes that people the sunbeams, 
 Or likest hovering dreams, 
 The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. 
 But hail, thou goddess, sage and holy ! 
 Hail, divinest Melancholy ! 
 Whose saintly visage is too bright 
 To hit the sense of human sight, 
 And therefore to our weaker view 
 O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue ; 
 Black, but such as in esteem 
 Prince Memnon's sister might beseem : 
 Or that starred Ethiop qiieen that strove 
 To set her beauties' praise above 
 The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended ; 
 Yet thou art higher far descended ; 
 Thee bright-haired Vesta long of yore 
 To solitary Saturn bore ; 
 His daughter she — in Saturn's reign 
 Such mixture was not held a stain. — 
 Oft in glimmering bowers and glades 
 He met her, and in secret shades 
 Of woody Ida's inmost grove, 
 While yet there was no fear of Jove. 
 
 Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, 
 Sober, steadfast, and demure, 
 All in a robe of darkest grain. 
 Flowing with majestic train. 
 And sable stole of Cyprus lawn. 
 Over thy decent shoulders drawn. 
 Come, but keep thy wonted state. 
 With even step, and musing gait. 
 And looks commA-cing with the skies, 
 Thy wrapt soul sitting in thine eyes : 
 There, held in holy passion still. 
 Forget thyself to marble, till 
 With a sad, leaden, downward cast 
 Thou fix them »u llir 'Mith ;l,- fust : 
 And join with tl.rr r;,l„, l'..;„T, uH.l Quiet, 
 Sparc Fast, that .ill hhIi -.i,ls .l.,tli diet, 
 And hears the iMuscs in a ring 
 Aye round about Jove's altar sing : 
 And add to these retired Leisure, 
 That in trim gardens takes his pleasure ; 
 But first and chiefest with thee bring 
 Him yon that soars on golden wing. 
 Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, 
 The cherub Contemplation ; 
 And the mute Silence hist along, 
 'Less Philomel will deign a song. 
 In her sweetest, saddest plight. 
 Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, 
 While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke 
 Gently o'er the accustomed oak ; 
 Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of Folly, 
 Most musical, most melancholy ! 
 Thee, ohantress, oft the woods among 
 • I woo, to hear thy even-song ; 
 And missing thee, I walk unseen 
 On the dry smooth-shaven green, 
 
SUMMER — JULY. 
 
 241 
 
 To boholil tho wttmlcring moon, 
 Hiding near bcr highest noon. 
 Like ono that had boon lod astray 
 Through tho hoavon's wide, pathless way, 
 And oft, as if hor bond sho bowed, 
 Stooping through a fleecy eloud. 
 
 Oft, on a plat of rising ground, 
 I hear tho far-off curfew sound. 
 Over some wido-watered shore, 
 Swinging slow with sullen roar ; 
 Or, if the air will not permit. 
 Some still removed place will fit, 
 Where glowing embers through the room 
 Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, 
 Far from all resort of mirth. 
 Save the cricket on the hearth, 
 Or the bellman's drowsy charm, 
 To bless tho doors from nightly harm : 
 Or let my lamp at midniglit lumr 
 Be seen in some high lonoly tower. 
 Where I may oft outwatch tho Bear, 
 With thrice great Hermes, or unsphoro 
 The spirit of Plato, to unfold 
 What worlds, or what vast regions, hold 
 The immortal mind that hath forsook 
 Her mansion in this fleshly nook : 
 And of those demons that aro found 
 In fire, nir, flood, or under ground, 
 Whose power hath a true consent 
 With planet, or with element. 
 
 Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy 
 In sceptred pall come sweeping by, 
 Presenting Thebes' or Pelops' line. 
 Or else the t!\le of Troy divine, 
 Or what (though rare) of later age 
 Ennobled hath the buskined stage. 
 
 But, sad virgin, that thy power 
 Might raise Musasus from his bowor. 
 Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing 
 Such notes as, warbled to the string, 
 Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, 
 And made Hell grant what Love did seek. 
 Or call up him that left half told 
 Tho story of Cambuscan bold. 
 Of Camball, and of Algarsife, 
 And who had Canace to wife. 
 That owned tho virtuous ring and glass. 
 And of the wondrous horse of brass. 
 On which the Tartar king did ride ; 
 And if aught else great bards beside 
 In sage and solenm tunes have sung, 
 Of tourneys and of trophies hung. 
 Of forests and enchantments drear, 
 Where more is meant than meets the ear. 
 
 Thus, Night, oft see mo in thy pale career, 
 Till civil-suited Morn appear, 
 Not tricked and frounced as she was wont 
 With the Attic boy to hunt, 
 But kerchiefed in a comely cloud, 
 While rooking winds are piping loud. 
 
 Or ushered with a shower still, 
 When the gust hath blown his fill. 
 Ending on the rustling leaves, 
 With minute drops from off the eaves. 
 
 And when tho sun begins to fling 
 llis flaring beams, mo, goddess, bring 
 To arched walks of twilight groves, 
 And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves. 
 Of pine, or monumental oak. 
 Where the rude a.xo with heaved stroko 
 Was never heard tho nymphs to daunt. 
 Or fright them from their hallowed haunt ; 
 There in close covert by some brook. 
 Where no profaner eye may look, 
 Ilide me from Day's garish eye. 
 While the bee, with honeyed thigh. 
 That at her flowery work doth sing. 
 
 With such concert as they keep, 
 
 Entice the dewy-feathered sleep : 
 
 And let some strange, mysterious dream 
 
 Wave at his wings in aery stream 
 
 Of lively portraiture displayed, 
 
 Softly on uiy yyW.U hM. 
 
 And, as I u.k', ■« -i uiu-ic breathe 
 
 Sent by .-"IIP- ^|.ii II u. 111. .rials good, 
 OrthL."uii-..ii I.. I 
 
 But 
 
 wood. 
 r fail 
 
 To walk lii.. -iii.li.u- . I .i-t,crs pale. 
 
 And love the high embuwed roof. 
 
 With antique pillars, massy proof. 
 
 And storied windows richly dight. 
 
 Casting a dim, religious light. 
 
 There let the pealing organ blow. 
 
 To the full-voiced choir below, 
 
 In service high, and anthems clear. 
 
 As may with sweetness through mine ea 
 
 Dissolve me into ecstasies, 
 
 And bring al! heaven before mine eyes. 
 
 And may at last my weary age 
 Find out the peaceful hennitage, 
 The hairy gown and mossy cell, 
 Where I may sit and rightly spell 
 Of every star that heaven doth shew. 
 And every herb that sips tho dew ; 
 Till old E.xpericnce do attain 
 To something like prophetic strain. 
 
 These pleasures. Melancholy, give, 
 And I with thee will choose to live. 
 
 In this monfKly the author Iwwails a Itnnu'il friciid, 
 fortunately drowneil in his passafio from Cliestcr, on 
 Irish seas, 1837, and by occasion forcMls the ruin of 
 corrupted clergy, then in their height. 
 
 Yet onoe more, ye laurels, and onoo more. 
 Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, 
 I come to pluck your berries harsh ond crude, 
 
 31 
 
242 
 
 RURAL POETRY. MILTON. 
 
 And with forced fingers rude 
 Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 
 Bitter constraint, and s;id occasion dear, 
 Compels me to disturb your season due : 
 For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, 
 Young Lycidas, and hath not loft his peer : 
 Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew 
 Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. 
 He must not float upon his watery bier 
 Unwept, and welter to the p.arching wind, 
 Without the meed of some melodious tear. 
 
 Begin, then, Sisters of the sacred well, 
 That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring. 
 Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. 
 Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse, 
 So may some gentle muse 
 With lucky words favor my destined urn, 
 And, as she passes, turn. 
 And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud. 
 For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, 
 Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and rill. 
 
 Together both, ere the high lawns appeared 
 Under the opening eyelids of the morn, 
 We drove a-fleld, and both together heard 
 AVhat time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, — 
 Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night, 
 Oft till the star that rose at evening bright [wheel. 
 Towards heaven's descent had sloped his westering 
 Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute ; 
 Tempered to the oaten flute. 
 
 Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel 
 From the glad sound would not be absent long, — 
 And old Damoetas loved to hear our song. 
 
 But, the heavy change ! now thou art gone, 
 Now thou art gone, and never must return ! 
 Thee, shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves. 
 With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, 
 And all their echoes, mourn. 
 The willows and the hazel copses green 
 Shall now no more be seen. 
 Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. 
 As killing as the canker to the rose. 
 Or taint-worn to the weanling herds that graze. 
 Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, 
 When first the white thorn blows : 
 Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. [deep 
 
 Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless 
 Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas ? 
 For neither were ye playing on the steep, 
 Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, 
 Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high. 
 Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream : 
 Ah me ! I fondly dream. 
 
 Had yo been there — for what could that have done ? 
 What could the Muse herself, that Orpheus bore, 
 The Muse herself, for her enchanting son. 
 Whom universal nature did lament, 
 When by the rout that made the hideous roar 
 His gory visage down the stream was sent, 
 Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore? 
 
 Alas ! what boots it with incessant care 
 To tend the homely, slighted shepherd's trade, 
 And strictly meditate the thankless muse ? 
 \rere it not better done, as others use. 
 To sport with Amaryllis in the shade. 
 Or with the tangles of Nersea's hair ? 
 Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise — 
 That last infirmity of noble minds — 
 To scorn delights and live laborious days ; 
 But the fair guerdon when we hope to find. 
 And think to burst out into sudden blaze, 
 Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, 
 And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise, 
 Pha-bus replied, and touched my trembling ears ; 
 Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil. 
 Nor in the glist'ring foil 
 Set off to the world, nor in broad rumor lies. 
 But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes. 
 And perfect witness of all-judging Jove ; 
 As He pronounces lastly on each deed. 
 Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed. 
 
 fountain Arethuse ! and thou honored flood, 
 Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds ! 
 That strain I heard was of a higher mood : 
 But now my oat proceeds, 
 And listens to the herald of the sea 
 That came in Neptune's plea : 
 He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds, 
 Whiit hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain? 
 And questioned every gust of rugged winds 
 That blows from off each beaked promontory ; 
 They knew not of his story. 
 And sage Hippotades their answer brings, 
 That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed, 
 The air was calm, and on the level brine 
 Sleek Panope with all her sisters played. 
 It was that fatal and perfidious bark 
 Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark. 
 That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. 
 
 Next Camus, reverend sire ! went footing slow. 
 His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge. 
 Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 
 Like to that sanguine flower, inscribed with woe. 
 Ah ! who hath reft, quoth he, my dearest pledge ? 
 Last came, and last did go. 
 The pilot of the Galilean lake ; 
 Two massy keys he bore of metals twain 
 (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) ; 
 He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake. 
 How well could I have spared for thee, young swain. 
 Enow of such as for their bellies' sake 
 Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold ! 
 Of other care they little reckoning make, 
 Than how to scramble at the shearer's feast, 
 And shove away the worthy, bidden guest ; [hold 
 Blind mouths ! that scarce themselves know how to 
 A sheep-hook, or have learned aught else the least 
 That to the faithful herdsman's art belongs ! 
 What recks it them ? what need they ? they are sped ; 
 And when they list, their lean and flashy songs 
 
SUMMER — JULY. 
 
 Orato on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw ; 
 The hungry sheep loolc up, and arc not fed, 
 Hut, swollen with wind, and the rank mist thoy draw, 
 Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread ; 
 Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw 
 Daily devours apaco, and nothing said ; 
 Hut that two-handed engine at the door 
 Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more. 
 
 Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past 
 That shrunk thy streams ; return, Sicilian Muse. 
 And call the vales, and bid them hither cast 
 Their bells, and flow'reta of a thousand hues. 
 Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use 
 Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, 
 On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, 
 Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, 
 That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, 
 And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. 
 Bring the rath primrose that forsaken dies, 
 The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine. 
 The white-pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, 
 The glowing violet. 
 
 The musk rose, and the well-attired woodbine. 
 With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, 
 And every flower that sad embroidery wears : 
 Bid amaranthus all bis beauty shed. 
 And daffadillios fill their cups with tears, 
 To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. 
 For so to interpose a little ease. 
 Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise. 
 Ah me ! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas 
 AVash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled, 
 Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, 
 Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide 
 Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world ; 
 
 Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied, 
 Slcep'st by the fable of Bellerua old, 
 AVhcrc the great vision of the guarded mount 
 Looks toward Namancoa and Bayona's hold ; 
 Look homeward. Angel, now, and melt with ruth : 
 And, 0, ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth. 
 
 Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more. 
 For LyeiJus your sorrow is not dead. 
 Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor ; 
 So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, 
 And yet anon repairs his drooping head. 
 And tricks his beams, and with ncw-spanglcd ore 
 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky : 
 So Lyoidas sunk low, but mounted high. [waves. 
 Through the dear luight of Ilim that walked the 
 Where other groves and other streams along 
 With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, 
 And hears the unexpressivo nuptial scng. 
 In the blest kingdoms meek of Joy and Love. 
 There entertain him all the saints above. 
 In solemn troops and sweet societies. 
 That sing, and singing in their glory move. 
 And wipe the tears forever from his eyes. 
 Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more ; 
 Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore, 
 In thy large recompense, and shalt bo good 
 To all that wander in that perilous flood. 
 
 Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills. 
 While the still Morn went out with sandals gray, 
 He touched tlio tender stops of various quills, 
 AVith eager thought warbling his Doric lay ; 
 And now the sun had stretched out all the hills. 
 And now was dropped into the western bay ; 
 At last ho rose, and twitched his mantle blue : 
 To-morrow to fresh woods and pastures now. 
 
iimcl) f rssoiis for lul 
 
 EMERSON'S "WOOD 
 
 And such I knew a forest seer, 
 
 A minstrel of the natural year, 
 
 Foreteller of the vernal ides. 
 
 Wise harbinger of spheres and tides — 
 
 A lover true, who knew by heart 
 
 Each joy the mountain dales impart ; 
 
 It seemed that Nature could not raise 
 
 A plant in any secret place ; 
 
 In quaking bog, or snowy hill, 
 
 Beneath the grass that shades the rill, 
 
 Under the snow, between the rocks, 
 
 In damp fields, known to bird and fox ; 
 
 But he would come in the very hour 
 
 It opened in its virgin bower. 
 
 As if a sunbeam showed the place, 
 
 And tell its long-descended race. 
 
 It seemed as if the breezes brought him ; 
 
 It seemed as if the sparrows taught him ; 
 
 As if by secret sight he knew 
 
 Where, in far fields, the orchis grew. 
 
 Many haps fall in the field, 
 Seldom seen by wistful eyes. 
 
 But all her shows did Nature yield. 
 To please and win this pilgrim wise. 
 
 He saw the partridge drum in the woods. 
 He heard the woodcock's evening hymn ; 
 
 He found the tawny thrush's broods ; 
 And the sky-hawk did wait for him. 
 
 What others did at distance hear. 
 
 And guessed within the thicket's gloom, 
 
 Wa5 showed to this philosopher. 
 
 And at his bidding seemed to come, [gang, 
 In unploughed Maine he sought the lumberer's 
 Where from a hundred lakes young rivers sprang ; 
 He trod the unplanted forest floor, whereon 
 The all-seeing sun for ages hath not shone ; 
 Where feeds the moose and walks the surly bear. 
 And up the tall masts runs the woodpecker. 
 He saw beneath dim aisles, in odorous beds, 
 The slight Linnea hang its twin-born heads ; 
 And blessed the monument of the man of flowers, 
 Which breathes his sweet fame through the northern 
 He heard, when in the grove, at intervals, [bowers. 
 With sudden roar the aged pine-tree falls — 
 One crash, the death-hymn of the perfect tree. 
 Declares the close of its green century. 
 Low lies the plant to whose creation went 
 Sweet influence from every element ; 
 Whoso living towers the years conspired to build — 
 Whose giddy top the morning loved to gild. 
 Through these green tents, by eldest Nature dressed, 
 He roamed, content alike with man and beast. 
 
 Where darkness found him he lay glad at night ; 
 There the red morning touched him with its light. 
 Three moons his great heart him a hermit made. 
 So long he roved at will the boundless shade. 
 
 The timid it concerns to ask their way. 
 And fear what foe in caves and swamps can stray ; 
 To make no step until the event is known. 
 And ills to come, as evils past, bemoan. 
 Not so the wise ; no coward watch he keeps. 
 To spy what danger on his pathway creeps. 
 Go where he will, the wise man is at home — 
 His hearth the earth, his hall the azure dome ; 
 Where his clear spirit leads him, there his road, 
 By God's own light illumined and foreshowed. 
 
 VAUGHAN'S "EARLY PRAYER." 
 
 A?HEN first thine eyes unveil, give thy soul leave 
 To do the like ; our bodies but forerun 
 The spirit's duty : true hearts spread and heave 
 Unto their God, as flowers do to the sun : [keep 
 Give Him thy first thoughts, then, — so shalt thou 
 Him company all day, and in Him sleep. 
 Yet never sleep the sun up ; prayer should 
 Dawn with the day : there are set awful hours 
 'Twixt Heaven and us ; the manna was not good 
 After sunrising ; for day sullies flowers : 
 Rise to prevent the sun ; sleep doth sins glut. 
 And heaven's gate opens when the world's is shut. 
 Walk with thy fellow-creatures ; note the hush 
 And whisperings amongst them. Not a spring 
 Or leaf but hath his morning hymn ; ea^h bush 
 And oak doth know I All. Canst thou not sing ! 
 leave thy cares and follies ! Go this way. 
 And thou art sure to prosper all the day. 
 Serve God before the world ; let Him not go 
 Until thou hast a blessing ; then resign 
 The whole unto Him, and remember who 
 Prevailed by wrestling, ere the sun did shine ; 
 Pour oil upon the stones, weep for thy sin. 
 Then journey on, and have an eye to heaven, [youth. 
 Mornings are mysteries ; the first, the world's 
 Man's resurrection, and the future's bud, [truth 
 Shroud in their births ; the crown of life, light ; 
 Is styled their star ; the stone and hidden food : 
 True blessings wait upon them, one of which 
 Should move — they make us holy, happy, rich. 
 When the world 's up, and every swarm abroad. 
 Keep well thy temper, mix not with each clay ; 
 Despatch necessities ; life hath a load 
 Which must be carried on, and safely may ; 
 Yet keep those cares without thee ; let the heart 
 Be God's alone, and choose the better part. 
 
SUMMER-AUGUST. 
 
 (Toliiijcv's ".*of;i 
 
 thresher. The necessity an 
 The works of nature superi.n 
 inimitaWe by art. The wenr 
 
 Time was, when clothing sumptuous, or for use. 
 Save their own painted skins, our sires had none. 
 As yet black breeches were not ; satin smooth. 
 Or velvet soft, or plush with shaggy pile. 
 The hardy chief upon the rugged rock 
 Washed by the sea, or on the gravelly hank 
 Thrown up by wintry torrents ronrini; I..11.I, 
 
 ,'th. 
 
 in particular, 1 
 FiHe champ«tr 
 on the fatal clTects 
 
 I sixfi the Sofa. I, who lately sang 
 Truth, Hope, and Charity, and touched with awo 
 The [Solemn chords, and with a trembling hand, 
 EscaiK-d with pain from that adventurous flight. 
 Now seek repose upon an humbler theme ; 
 The theme thougbi bumble, yet august and proud 
 The occasion — for the Fair commands the song. 
 
 JOIST-STOOLS. 
 
 Joint-stools were then created ; on three legs 
 Upborne they stood. Three legs upholding firm 
 A mossy slab, in fashion a<iuare or round. 
 On such a stool immortal Alfred sat. 
 And swayed the sceptre of his infant realms : 
 And such in ancient halls and mansions drear 
 May still bo seen ; but perforated sore. 
 And drilled in holes, the solid oak is found. 
 By worms voracious eaten through and through. 
 
RURAL POETRY. COWPER. 
 
 At length a generation more refined 
 Improved the simple plan ; made three legs four, 
 Gave them a twisted form vermicular, 
 And o'er the scat, with plenteous wadding stuEfed, 
 Induced a splendid cover, green and blue, 
 Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wrought 
 And woven close, or needle-work sublime. 
 There might ye see the piony spread wide. 
 The full-blown rose, the shepherd and his lass, 
 Lapdog and lambkin with black staring eyes. 
 And parrots with twin cherries in their beak. 
 
 Now came the cane from India, smooth and bright 
 With nature's varnish ; severed into stripes, 
 That interlaced each other, these supplied 
 Of texture firm a lattice-work, that braced 
 The new machine, and it became a chair. 
 But restless was the chair ; the back erect 
 Distressed the weary loins, that felt no ease ; 
 The slippery seat betrayed the sliding part 
 That pressed it, and the feet hung dangling down. 
 Anxious in vain to find the distant floor. 
 These for the rich : the rest, whom fate had placed 
 In modest mediocrity, content 
 With base materials, sat on well-tanned hides. 
 Obdurate and unyielding, glassy smooth, 
 AVith here and there a tuft of crimson yarn, 
 Or scarlet crewel, in the cushion fixed. 
 If cushion might be called, what harder seemed 
 Than the firm oak, of which the frame was formed. 
 No want of timber was then felt or feared 
 In Albion's happy isle. The lumber stood 
 Ponderous and fixed by its own massy weight. 
 
 But elbows still were wanting ; these, some si 
 An alderman of Cripplcgate contrived ; 
 And some ascribe the invention to a priest. 
 Burly and big, and studious of his ease. 
 But, rude at first, and not with easy slope 
 Receding wide, they pressed against the ribs, 
 And bruised the side ; and, elevated high. 
 Taught the raised shoulders to invade the ears. 
 Long time elapsed or e'er our rugged sires 
 Complained, though incommodiously pent in, 
 And ill at ease behind. The ladies first 
 'Gan murmur, as became the softer sex. 
 
 INVENTION OF ELBOWED SETTEES ", SOFAS. 
 
 Ingenious fancy, never better pleased 
 Than when employed to accoramodate the fair. 
 Heard tlie sweet moan with pity, and devised 
 
 The sdl'l M'tt'i- ; oiM' illiow at each end, 
 
 And in ilir nill-t :in .IL.iw it received. 
 
 Unitr.l N,t WiM.I .1. iniiioatonce. 
 
 So sit (wo kiiii;- .1 lliiiitford on one throne ; 
 
 And so two citizens, who take the air. 
 
 Close packed, and smiling, in a chaise and one. 
 
 But relaxation of the languid frame. 
 By soft recumbency of outstretched limbs, 
 Was bliss reserved for happier days. So slow 
 The growth of what is excellent ; so hard 
 To attain perfection in tbis nether world. 
 Thus first necessity invented stools. 
 Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs, 
 And luxury the accomplished Sofa last. 
 
 SLEEP AND THE SOFA j NCRSE ; COACHMAN ; CCBATE 5 C 
 
 The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick. 
 Whom snoring she disturbs. As sweetly he. 
 Who quits the coach-box at the midnight hour. 
 To sleep within the carriage more secure, 
 His legs depending at the open door. 
 Sweet sleep enjoys the curate in his desk. 
 The tedious rector drawling o'er his head ; 
 And sweet the clerk below. But neither sleep 
 Of lazy nurse, who snores the sick man dead ; 
 Nor his, who quits the box at midnight hour, 
 To slumber in the carriage more secure ; 
 Nor sleep enjoyed by curate in his desk ; 
 Nor yet the dozings of the clerk, are sweet. 
 Compared with the repose the Sofa yields. 
 
 may I live exempted (while I live 
 Guiltless of pampered appetite obscene) 
 From pane's jmIIii i(n;. tliat infest the toe 
 
 OflibeVtilH' rx.r.- Tlir ,-.,1;, suitS 
 
 The gouty linil., t 1- tiin- lint gouty limb, 
 Though on a .-ulli. may 1 never feel : 
 
 For I have loved the rural walk through lanes 
 Of grassy swath, close cropped by nibbling sheep, 
 And skirted thick with intertexture firm 
 Of thorny boughs ; have loved the rural walk 
 O'er hills, through valleys, and by rivers' brink. 
 E'er since a truant boy I passed my bounds, 
 To enjoy a ramble on the banks of Thames ; 
 And still remember, nor without regret. 
 Of hours, that sorrow since has much endejired. 
 How oft, my slice of pocket store consumed, 
 Still hungering, penniless, and far from home, 
 I fed on scarlet hips and stony haws. 
 Or blushing crabs, or berries, that emboss 
 The bramble, black as jet, or sloes austere. 
 Hard fare ! but such as boyish appetite 
 Disdains not ; nor the palate, undepraved 
 By culinary arts, uns.avory deems. 
 No Sofa then awaited my return ; 
 Nor Sofa then I needed. 
 
 Youth repairs 
 His wasted spirits quickly, by long toil 
 Incurring short fatigue ; and, though our years. 
 As life declines, speed rapidly away. 
 And not a year but pilfers as he goes 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 247 
 
 Some youthful gnico, that age would gladly kocp, — 
 A tooth or auburn lock ; and by degrees 
 Their length and color from the locksthcy spare ; — 
 The clastio spring of an unwearied foot, 
 That mounts the stile with ease, or leaps the fence ; 
 That play of lungs, inhaling and again 
 Respiring freely the fresh air, that makes 
 Swift pace or steep ascent no toil to me, — 
 Mine have not pilfered yet, nor yet impaired 
 iMy relish of fair prospect ; scones that soothed 
 Or charmed rao young, no longer young, I find 
 Still soothing, and of power to charm me still. 
 And witness, dear companion of my walks, 
 Whose arm this twentieth winter I perceive 
 Fast locked in mine, with pleasure such as love, 
 Confirmed by long experience of thy worth 
 And well-tried virtues, could alone inspire — 
 Witness a joy that thou hast doubled long. 
 Thou kuowcst my praise of nature most sincere, 
 And that my raptures are not conjured up 
 To serve occasions of poetic pomp. 
 But genuine, — and art partner of thorn all. 
 
 RIRAI, S10RT3 ; MOVISO PLOCCIl ; THB OISS ; CATTLE ; El.MS ; 
 
 How oft upon yon eminence our pace 
 Has slackened to a pause, and we have borne 
 The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blow. 
 While admiration, feeding at tho eye, 
 And still unsated, dwelt upon tho scene. 
 Thence, with what pleasure have we just discerned 
 Tho distant plough slow moving, «,nd besido 
 His laboring team, that swerved not from the track, 
 The sturdy swain diminished to a boy ! 
 Ilere Ouse, slow winding through a level plain 
 Of spacious meads with cattle sprinkled o'er. 
 Conducts the e3'e along his sinuous course 
 Delighted. There, fast rooted in their bank. 
 Stand, never overlooked, our favorite elms. 
 That screen tho herdsman's solitary hut ; 
 While far beyond, and overthwart the stream, 
 That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale. 
 The sloping land recedes into the clouds ; 
 Displaying on ita varied side the grace 
 Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tower. 
 Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells 
 .lust undulates upon tho listening ear. 
 Groves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote. 
 Scenes must be beautiful, which daily viewed. 
 Please daily, and whose novelty survives 
 Long knowledge and the scrutiny of years : 
 Praise justly due to those that I describe. 
 
 BCRAL SOCSDS i MUSIC OF TUB WINDS ISO WATERS ; lUI.LS ; 
 
 Nor rural sights alono, but rural sounds, 
 Exhilarate the spirit, and restore 
 Tho tono of languid nature. — Mighty winds, 
 That sweep tho skirt of some far-spreading wood 
 Of ancient growth, make music not unlike 
 
 Tho dash of ocean on his winding shore. 
 
 And lull tho spirit while they fill the mind ; 
 
 Unnumbered bronohes waving in the blast, 
 
 .And all their leaves fast fluttering, all at once. 
 
 Nor less eomposuro waits upon the roar 
 
 Of distant flo()ds, or on tho softer voice 
 
 Of neighboring fountain, or of rills that slip 
 
 Through the cleft rook, and, chiming us they fall 
 
 Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length 
 
 In matted griu^s, that with a livelier green 
 
 Betrays the secret of their silent course. 
 
 Jfatiiro inanimate employs sweet sounds, 
 
 But uniinated nature sweeter still, 
 
 Tu soothe and satisfy the human car. 
 
 Ten thousand warblers cheer tho day, and ono 
 
 The live-long night : nor these alinio, whoso notes 
 
 Nico-lingoreil art must emulate in vain. 
 
 But cawing rooks, and kites that swim sublime 
 
 In still repeated circles, screaming loud. 
 
 The jay, the pie, and e'en the boding owl. 
 
 That hails the rising moon, have charms for mc. 
 
 Sounds inharmonious in themselves, and harsh, 
 
 Yet heard in scenes where peace forever reigns. 
 
 And only there, please highly for their sake. 
 
 THB WGATHER-UOeSB TOT. 
 
 Peace to the artist, whoso ingenious thought 
 Devised the weather-house, that useful toy ! 
 Fearless of humid air and gathering rains. 
 Forth steps the man — an emblem of myself ! 
 More delicate his timorous mate retires. 
 When winter soaks tho fields, and female feet, 
 Too weak to struggle with tenacious clay. 
 Or ford the rivulets, are best at homo, 
 Tho task of new discoveries falls on me. 
 
 THE peasant's NEST. — ADVANTA0E3 AND INC0XVEXIEXCE3 
 OF SOUTl-DE. 
 
 At such a season, and with such a charge, 
 Once went I forth ; and found, till then unknown, 
 A cottage, whither oft we since repair : 
 •T is perched upon the green hill-top, but close 
 Environed with a ring of branching elms. 
 That overhang the thatch, itself unseen 
 Peeps at tho vole below ; so thick beset 
 With foliage of such dark redundant growth, 
 I called the low-roofed lodge the Peasant's Nest. 
 And hidden as it is, and far remote 
 From such unpleasing sounds, as hai^nt the car 
 In village or in town, the bay of curs 
 Incessant, clinking hammers, grinding wheels. 
 And infants clamorous, whether pleased or pained, 
 Oft have I wished the peaceful covert mine. 
 Here, I have said, at least I should possess 
 Tho poet's treasure, silence, and indulge 
 The dreams of fancy, tranquil and secure. 
 Vain thought ! tho dweller in that still retreat 
 Dearly obtains the refuge it affords. 
 Its elevated site forbids the wretch 
 To drink sweet waters of tho crystal well ; 
 lie dips his bowl into the weedy ditch. 
 And, heavy laden, brings his beverage home. 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Far fetched and little worth ; nor seldout waits, 
 Dependent on the baker's punctual call, 
 To hear his LTc;ikiii;x ii;iiiiiifrs at the door, 
 Angry ;iiiii -;mI, nimI In- la-t crust consumed. 
 
 If solitiulu make st-aut tlic means of life, 
 Society for me ! — thou seeming sweet, 
 Be still a pleasing object in my view ; 
 My visit still, but never mine abode. 
 
 Not distant far, a length of colonnade 
 Invites us. Monument of ancient taste, 
 Now scorned, but worthy of a better fate. 
 Our fathers knew the value of a screen 
 From sultry suns : and, in their shaded walks 
 And long-protracted bowers, enjoyed at noon 
 The gloom and coolness of declining day. 
 We bear our shades about us ; self-deprived 
 Of other screen, the thin umbrella spread, 
 And range an Indian waste without a tree. 
 Thanks to Benevolus ^ — he spares me yet 
 These chestnuts ranged in corresponding lines ; 
 And, though himself so polished, still reprieves 
 The obsulete prolixity of shade. 
 
 Descending now (but cautious lest too fast) 
 A sudden steep, upon a rustic bridge 
 We pass a gulf, in which the willows dip 
 Their pendent boughs, stooping as if to drink. 
 Hence, ankle deep in moss and flowery thyme, 
 We mount again, and feel at every step 
 Our foot half sunk in hillocks green and soft, 
 Raised by the mole, the miner of the soil. 
 He, not unlike the great ones of mankind, 
 Disfigures earth : and, plotting in the dark, 
 Toils much to earn a monumental pile. 
 That may record the mischiefs he has done. 
 
 THE LOOK-OUT. — CHEAP IMMORTALITV. 
 
 The summit gained, behold the proud alcove 
 That crowns it ! yet not all its pride secures 
 The grand retreat from injuries impressed 
 By rural carvers, who with knives deface 
 The panels, leaving an obscure, rude name, 
 In characters uncouth, and spelled amiss. 
 So strong the zeal t' immortalize himself 
 Beats in the breast of man, that e'en a few. 
 Few transient years, won from the abyss abhorred 
 Of blank oblivion, seem a glorious prize. 
 
 And I 
 
 . to a clown. 
 
 Nowi 
 
 1 the 
 
 
 And posted on this speculative height, 
 Exults in its command. The sheepfold here 
 Pours out its fleecy tenants o'er the glebe. 
 At first, progressive as a stream, they seek 
 
 The middle field ; but, scattered by degrees. 
 Each to his choice, soon whiten all the land. 
 There from the sunburnt hay-field homeward creeps 
 The loaded wain ; while, lightened of its charge, 
 The wain that meets it passes swiftly by : 
 The boorish driver leaning o'er his team 
 Vociferous, and impatient of delay. 
 Nor less attractive is the woodland scene, 
 Diversified with trees of every growth, 
 Alike, yet various. Here the gray smooth trunks 
 Of ash, or lime, or beech, distinctly shine, 
 Within the twilight of their distant shades ; 
 There, lost behind a rising ground, the wood 
 Seems sunk, and shortened to its topmost boughs. 
 
 No tree in all the grove but has its charms, 
 Though each its hue peculiar ; paler some, 
 And of a wannish gray ; the willow such, 
 And poplar, that with silver lines his leaf. 
 And ash far-stretching his umbrageous arm ; 
 Of deeper green the elm ; and deeper still. 
 Lord of the woods, the long-surviving oak. 
 Some glossy-leaved, and shining in the sun, 
 The maple, and the beech of oily nuts 
 Prolific, and the lime at dewy eve 
 Diff"using odors ; nor unnoted pass 
 The sycamore, capricious in attire, 
 Now green, now tawny, and, ere autumn yet 
 Have changed the woods, in scarlet honors bright. 
 
 O'er these, but far beyond (a spacious map 
 Of hill and valley interposed between), 
 The Ouse, dividing the well-watered land, 
 Now glitters in the sun, and now retires, 
 As bashful, yet impatient to be seen. 
 
 Hence the declivity is sharp and short, 
 And such the reascent ; between them weeps 
 A little Naiad her impoverished urn 
 All summer long, which winter fills again. 
 
 THE THROCKMORTON ESTATE. — AVENUES OF TREES. 
 
 The folded gates would bar my progress now, 
 But that the lord ^ of this enclosed demesne. 
 Communicative of the good he owns, 
 Admits me to a share ; the guiltless eye 
 Commits no wrong, nor wastes what it enjoys. 
 Refreshing change ! where now the blazing sua ? 
 By short transition we have lost his glare, 
 And stepped at once into a cooler clime. 
 Yet, fallen avenues ! once more I mourn 
 Your fate unmerited, once more rejoice 
 That yet a remnant of your race survives. 
 How airy and how light the graceful arch, 
 Yet awful as the consecrated roof 
 Reechoing pious anthems ! while beneath 
 The checkered earth seems restless as a flood 
 Brushed by the wind. So sportive is the light 
 1 See the foregoing note. 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 Shot through tho boughs, it dnnccs as they danoo. 
 Shadow and sunshine intermingling quick, 
 And darkening and enlightening, as the leaves 
 Play wanton, every moment, every spot, [ehecrcd, 
 And now, with nerves ncw-braeed and spirits 
 We tread tho wilderness, whoso well-rolled walks, 
 With curvature of slow and easy sweep — 
 Deception innocent — give ample space 
 To narrow bounds. 
 
 Tho grove receives us next ; 
 Between tho upright shnfta of whose tall elms 
 We may discern the thresher at his task. 
 Thump after thump resounds tho constant flail, 
 That .wems to swing uncertain, and yet falls 
 Full on tho destined ear. Wide flies tho chaff, 
 The rustling straw sends up a frequent mist 
 Of atoms, sparkling in tho noonday beam. 
 Come hither, ye that press your beds of down. 
 And sleep ...it"; s,e liii,, .w.;i(iM- uVr his bread 
 Before hi' .Mt- it— Ti- il,.> yvun.d ,-nrse, 
 
 ButSnltlMliM iht- 111. ivy ■, I.Khi..- Ihr ].lcdgO 
 
 Of cheerful d:iys, and iii-lits williuut a groan. 
 
 By ceaseless action all that is subsists. 
 Constant rotation of tho unwearied wheel, 
 That nature rides upon, maintains her health. 
 Her beauty, her fertility. She dreads 
 An instant's pause, and lives but while she moves. 
 Its own revolvenoy upholds the world. 
 Winds from all quarters agitate the air, 
 And fit the limpid element for use, 
 Else noxious : oceans, rivers, lakes, and streams. 
 All feel the freshening impulse, and are cleansed 
 By restless undulation : e'en the oak 
 Thrives by tho rude concussion of the storm : 
 He seems indeed indignant, and to feel 
 Tho impression of tho blast with proud disdain. 
 Frowning, as if in his unconscious arm 
 Ho held the thunder : but the monarch owes 
 His firm stability to what he scorns. 
 More fixed below, the more disturbed above. 
 
 TOIL A BLESSISG. — HEALTU. — nEALTIIY OLD AOE. — EASl 
 
 The law, by which all creatures else are bound, 
 Binds man, the lord of all. Himself derives 
 No mean advantage from a kindred cause, 
 From strenuous toil his hours of sweetest ease. 
 The sedentary stretch their lazy length 
 When custom bids, but no refreshment find. 
 For none they need : the languid eye, tho cheek 
 Deserted of its bloom, tho flaccid, shrunk. 
 And withered muscle, and tho vapid soul, 
 Reproach their owner with that love of rest, 
 To which he forfeits e'en the rest ho loves. 
 Not such tho alert and active. Measure life 
 By its true worth, the comforts it affords. 
 And theirs alone seems worthy of the name. 
 Good health, and, its a-ssociate in the most. 
 
 Good temper ; spirits prompt to undertake. 
 And not soon spent, though in an arduous task ; 
 The powers of fancy and strong thought are theirs ; 
 E'en age itself seems privileged in them. 
 With clear exemption from its own defects. 
 A sparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front 
 The veteran shows, and, gracing a gray beard 
 With youthful smiles, descends towards tho grave 
 Sprightly, and old almost without decay. 
 
 Like a coy maiden, case, when courted most. 
 Furthest retires — an idol, at whose shrino 
 Who oftenest sacrifice arc favored least. 
 
 SCPERIOniTY OF NATCRB TO AaT. 
 
 The lovo of Nature, and the scones she draws. 
 Is Nature's dictate. Strnngc! there should be found, 
 
 Willi. :,-If-;T-|-ii.i-i -"ii.-'l in thrir Jiroud Sttloons, 
 
 M 
 
 Willi. -.ii;-im.i nitl l\ iiriii'illfd scenes. 
 
 Prefer til the perfurnianee of a (iod 
 
 The inferior wonders of an artist's hand ! 
 
 Lovely indeed tho mimio works of Art ; 
 
 But Nature's works far lovelier. 1 admire. 
 
 None more admires, the painter's magic skill. 
 
 Who shows me that which I shall never see. 
 
 Conveys a distant country into mine. 
 
 And throws Italian light on English walls : 
 
 But imitative strokes can do no more 
 
 Than please the eye — sweet Nature's every sense. 
 
 The air salul.ri.iu, -.f li.r l..lly liill.s 
 
 The cheering liM-mi I In i iliwy vales, 
 
 And music <if li. i u I- - n- unrks of man 
 
 May rival these ; lli.-iull luspeak a power 
 Peculiar, and exclusively her own. 
 Beneath the open sky she spreads the feast ; 
 'T is free to all — 't is every day renewed ; 
 Who scorns it starves deservedly at home. 
 
 EMJOYMF.ST Of SATPRE BY 
 
 COSVJLESCF.ST ; BY THE MABISER CRAZED WITH TBB LONG 
 IXa FOR LAND SCESEBY. 
 
 He does not scorn it, who, imprisoned long 
 In some unwholesome dungeon, and a prey 
 To sallow sickness, which the vapors, dank 
 And clammy, of his dark abode have bred. 
 Escapes at last to liberty and light : 
 His cheek recovers soon its healthful hue ; 
 His eye relumines its extinguished fires ; 
 He walks, ho leaps, he runs — is winged with joy. 
 And riots in tho sweets of every breeze. 
 He does not scorn it, who has long endured 
 A fever's agonies, and fed on drugs ; 
 Nor vet the mariner, his blood inflamed 
 With acrid salts : his very heart athirst. 
 To gaze at nature in her green array. 
 Upon the ship's tall side ho stands, possessed 
 M'ith visions prompted by intense desire : 
 Fair fields appear below, such as ho left 
 Far distant, such as he would die to find ; — 
 He seeks them headlong, and is seen no more. 
 
 32 
 
250 
 
 RURAL POETRY. COWPER. 
 
 The spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns ; 
 The lowering eye, the petulance, the frown, 
 And sullen sadness, that o'ershade, distort, 
 And mar, the face of beauty, when no cause 
 For such immeasurable woe appears, — 
 These Flora banishes, and gives the fair 
 Sweet smiles, and bloom less transient than her o 
 It is the constant revolution, stale 
 And tasteless, of the same repeated joys. 
 That palls and satiates, and makes languid life 
 A pedler's pack, that bows the bearer down. 
 Health suffers, and the spirits ebb ; the heart 
 Recoils from its own choice — at the full feast 
 Is famished — finds no music in the song, 
 No smartness in the jest ; and wonders why. 
 
 Yet thousands still desire to journey on. 
 Though halt, and weary of the path they tread. 
 The paralytic, who can hold her cards. 
 But cannot play them, borrows a friend's hand 
 To deal and shuffle, to divide and sort 
 Her mingled suits and sequences ; and sits, 
 Spectatress both and spectacle, a sad 
 And silent cipher, while her proxy plays. 
 Others are dragged into the crowded room 
 Between supporters ; and, once seated, sit, 
 Through downright inability to rise. 
 Till the stout bearers lift the corpse again. 
 These speak a loud memento. Yet even these 
 Themselves love life, and cling to it, as he 
 That overhangs a torrent to a twig. 
 They love it, and yet loathe it ; fear to die. 
 Yet scorn the purposes for which they live. 
 Then wherefore not renounce them ! No — the dread. 
 The slavish dread of solitude, that breeds 
 Reflection and remorse, the fear of shame. 
 And their inveterate habits, all forbid. 
 
 Whom call we gay ? That honor has been long 
 The boast of mere pretenders to the name. 
 The innocent are gay — the lark is gay, 
 That dries his feathers, saturate with dew, 
 Beneath the rosy cloud, while yet the beams 
 Of day-spring overshoot his humble nest. 
 The peasant too, a witness of his song. 
 Himself a songster, is as gay as he. 
 But save me from the gayety of those, 
 Wliosc hciidrichcs nail them to a noonday bed ; 
 And >;ivi- iiic too from theirs, whose haggard eyes 
 Fhi-li di-,-pri;ition, and betray their pangs 
 For property stripped off by cruel chance ; 
 From gayety, that fills the bones with ^ain. 
 The mouth with blasphemy, the heart with woe. 
 
 NATURE'S ViBIETr ADAPTED TO MAN'S LOVE OP CHANGE. 
 THE SEA-CLIFF ) THE QUIKT, INLAND VALE. 
 
 The earth was made so various, that the mind 
 Of desultory man, studious of change. 
 And pleased with novelty, might be indulged. 
 Prospects, however lovely, may be seen 
 Till half their beauties fade ; the weary sight. 
 Too well acquainted with their smiles, slides off 
 Fastidious, seeking less familiar scenes. 
 Then snug enclosures in the sheltered vale, 
 Where frequent hedges intercept the eye. 
 Delight us ; happy to renounce a while. 
 Not senseless of its charms, what still we love, 
 That such short absence may endear it more. 
 Then forests, or the savage rock, may please, 
 That hides the sea-mew in his hollow clefts 
 Above the reach of man. His hoary head. 
 Conspicuous many a league, the mariner 
 Bound homeward, and in hope already there. 
 Greets with three cheers exulting. At his waist 
 A girdle of half-withered shrubs he shows. 
 And at his feet the baffled billows die. 
 The common, overgrown with fern, and rough 
 With prickly gorse, that shapeless and deformed. 
 And dangerous to the touch, has yet its bloom. 
 And decks itself with ornaments of gold. 
 Yields no unpleasing ramble ; there the turf 
 Smells fresh, and rich in odoriferous herbs 
 And fungous fruits of earth, regales the sense 
 With luxury of unexpected sweets. 
 
 There often wanders one, whom better days 
 Saw better clad, in cloak of satin trimmed 
 With lace, and hat with splendid riband bound. 
 A serving maid was she, and fell in love 
 With one who left her, went to sea, and died. 
 Her fancy followed him through foaming waves 
 To distant shores ; and she would sit and weep 
 At what a sailor suffers ; fancy too, 
 Delusive most where warmest wishes are. 
 Would oft anticipate his glad return. 
 And dream of transports she was not to know. 
 She heard the doleful tidings of his death — 
 And never smiled again ! and now she roams 
 The dreary waste ; there spends the live-long day. 
 And there, unless when charity forbids. 
 The live-long night. A tattered apron hides. 
 Worn as a cloak, and hardly hides, a gown 
 More tattered still ; and both but ill conceal 
 A bosom heaved with never-ceasing sighs. 
 She begs an idle pin of all she meets. 
 And hoards them in her sleeve ; but needful food. 
 Though pressed with hunger oft, or eomelier clothes, 
 j Though pinched with cold, asks never. — Kate is 
 crazed. 
 
 I see a column of slow-rising smoke 
 O'ertop the lofty wood that skirts the wild. 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 251 
 
 A vagabond and useless tribe there eat 
 Their miserable meal. A kettle, slung 
 Betveen two poles upon a stick transverse, 
 Receives the morsel — flesh obscene of dog. 
 Or vermin, or at best of cock purloined 
 From his aceustomcd perch. Hard faring race ! 
 They pick their fuel out of every hedge, [quenched 
 Which, kindled with dry leaves, just saves un- 
 Tho spark of life. The sportive wind blows wide 
 Their fluttering rags, and shows a tawny skin, 
 The vellum of the pedigree they claim. 
 
 Great skill have they in palmistry, and more 
 To conjure clean away the gold they touch. 
 Conveying worthless dross into its place ; 
 Loud when they beg, dumb only when they steal. 
 Strange ! that a creature rational, and cast 
 In human mould, should brutalize by choice 
 His nature ; and, though copable of ort«. 
 By which the world might profit, and himself, 
 Self-banished from society, prefer 
 Such squalid sloth to honorable toil ! 
 Yet even these, though feigning sickness oft 
 They swathe the forehead, drag the limping limb, 
 And vex their flesh with artificial sores, 
 Can change their whine into a mirthful note, 
 When safe occasion oficrs ; and with dance, 
 And music of tho bladder and the bag, 
 Beguile their woes, and make tho woods resound. 
 Such health and gayety of heart enjoy 
 The houseless rovers of the sylvan world ; 
 And, breathing wholesome air, and wandering much, 
 Need other physio none to heal th' effects 
 Of loathsome diet, penury, and cold. 
 
 ADVASTAOES OP CIVILIZATION OVBR BABBARIS.M. — THE 
 
 Blest he, though undistinguished from the crowd 
 By wealth or dignity, who dwells secure, 
 Where man, by nature fierce, has laid aside 
 His fierceness ; having learned, though slow to 
 The manners and tho arts of civil life. [learn, 
 
 His wants indeed are many ; but supply 
 Is obvious, placed within the easy reach 
 Of temperate wishes and industrious hands. 
 Here virtue thrives as in her proper soil ; 
 Not rude and surly, and beset with thorns. 
 And terrible to sight, as when she springs 
 (If o'er she spring spontaneous), in remote 
 And barbarous climes, where violence prevails, 
 And strength is lord of all ; but gentle, kind. 
 By culture tamed, by liberty refreshed. 
 And all her fruits by radiant truth matured. 
 War and the chase engross the savage whole ; 
 War followed for revenge, or to supplant 
 Tho envied tenants of some happier spot : 
 Tlie chose for sustenance, precarious trust ! 
 His hard condition with severe constraint 
 Binds all his faculties, forbids all growth 
 Of wisdom, proves a school, in which he learns 
 
 Sly oiroumvcntion, unrelenting hate. 
 
 Mean self-attachment, and scarce aught beside. 
 
 Thus faro the shivering natives of the north. 
 
 And thus the rangers of tho western world. 
 
 Whore it ailvances far into the deep, 
 
 Towards th' Antarctic. Even the favored isles 
 
 So lately found, althfmgh the constant sun 
 
 Cheer all their seasons with a grateful smile. 
 
 Can boast but little virtue ; and inert 
 
 Through plenty, lose in morals what they gain 
 
 In manners — victims of luxurious ease. 
 
 These therefore I can pity, placed remote 
 
 From all that science traces, art invents. 
 
 Or inspiration teaches ; and enclosed 
 
 In boundless oceans, never to be passed 
 
 By navigators uninformed as they, 
 
 Or ploughed perhaps by British bark again. 
 
 But far beyond tho rest, and with most cause. 
 Thee, gentle savage, ' whom no love of thee 
 Or thine, but curiosity perhaps, 
 Or else vain glory, prompted us to draw 
 Forth from thy native bowers, to show thee here 
 AVith what superior skill we can abuse 
 The gifts of Providence, and squander life. 
 The dream is past, and thou hast found again 
 Thy cocoas and bananas, palms and yams, [found 
 And homcstall thatched with leaves. But hast thou 
 Their former charms ? And having seen our state, 
 Our palaces, our ladies, and our pomp 
 Of equipage, our gardens, and our sports. 
 And heard our music ; are thy simple friends. 
 Thy simple fare, and all thy plain delights. 
 As dear to thee as once ? And have thy joys 
 Lost nothing by comparison with ours ? 
 Rude as thou art — for we returned thee rude 
 And ignorant, except of outward show, — 
 I cannot think thee yet so dull of heart 
 And spiritless, as never to regret 
 Sweets tasted here, and loft as soon as known. 
 Methinks I see thee straying on the beach, 
 And asking of tho surge that bathes thy foot 
 If ever it has washed our distant shore. 
 
 I see thee weep, and thine are honest tears, 
 A patriot's for his country ; thou art sad 
 At thought of her forlorn and abject state. 
 From which no power of thine can raise her up. 
 Thus fancy paints thee, and though apt to err. 
 Perhaps errs little when she paints thee thus. 
 She tells me, too, that duly every morn 
 Thou elimbest the mountain top, with eager oyo 
 Exploring far and wide the watery waste, 
 For sight of ship from England. Every speck 
 Seen in the dim horizon turns thee pale 
 With oonfiiot of contending hopes and fears. 
 
252 
 
 RURAL POETRY. COWPER. 
 
 But comes at last the dull and dusky eve, 
 And sends thee to thy cabin, well prepared 
 To dream all night of what the day denied. 
 Alas ! expect it not. We found no bait 
 To tempt us in thy country. Doing good. 
 Disinterested good, is not our trade. 
 We travel far, 't is true, but not for naught ; 
 And must be bribed to compass earth again 
 By other hopes and richer fruits than yours. 
 
 CITIES. — TireiR DISADVANTAGES A3 TO VIBTCE. — LUXURY 
 
 But though true worth and virtue in the mild 
 And genial soil of cultivated life 
 Thrive most, and may perhaps thrive only there. 
 Yet not in cities oft : in proud and gay. 
 And gain-devoted cities. Thither flow. 
 As to a common and most noisome sower. 
 The dregs and feculence of every land. 
 In cities foul example on most minds 
 Begets its likeness. Rank abundance breeds, 
 In gross and pampered cities, sloth, and lust. 
 And wantonness, and gluttonous excess ; 
 In cities vice is hidden with most ease. 
 Or seen with least reproach ; and virtue, taught 
 By frequent lapse, can hope no triumph there 
 Beyond th' achievement of successful flight. 
 
 I do confess them nurseries of the arts. 
 In which they flourish most ; where, in the beams 
 Of warm encouragement, and in the eye 
 Of public note, they reach their perfect size. 
 Such London is, by taste and wealth proclaimed 
 The fairest capital of all the world, — 
 By riot and incontinence the worst. 
 There, touched by Reynolds, a dull blank becomes 
 A lucid mirror, in which nature sees 
 All her reflected features. Bacon there 
 Gives more than female beauty to a stone, 
 And Chatham's eloquence to marble lips. 
 Nor does the chisel occupy alone 
 The powers of sculpture, but the style as much ; 
 Each province of her art her equal care. 
 With nice incision of her guided steel 
 She ploughs a brazen field, and clothes a soil 
 So sterile with what charms soe'er she wills. 
 The richest scenery and the loveliest forms. 
 
 Where finds philosophy her eagle eye, 
 With which she gazes at yon burning disk 
 Undaizled, and detects and counts his spots ? 
 In London. Where her implements exact. 
 With which she calculates, computes, and scans, 
 All distance, motion, magnitude, and now 
 Measures an atom, and now girds a world ? 
 In London. Where has commerce such a mart. 
 So rich, BO thronged, so (Jrained, and so supplied. 
 As London — opulent, enlarged, ;ind still 
 
 Increasing London ? Babylon of old 
 Not more the glory of the earth than she, 
 A more accomplished world's chief glory now. 
 
 She has her praise. Now mark a spot or two. 
 That so much beauty would do well to purge ; 
 And show this queen of cities, that so fair 
 May yet be foul ; so witty, yet not wise. 
 It is not seemly, nor of good report, 
 That she is slack in discipline ; more prompt 
 T" avenge than to prevent the breach of law : 
 That she is rigid in denouncing death 
 On petty robbers, and indulges life 
 And liberty, and ofttimes honor too. 
 To peculators of the public gold ; 
 That thieves at home must hang ; but he that puts 
 Into his overgorged and bloated purse 
 The wealth of Indian provinces escapes. 
 Nor is it well, nor can it come to good. 
 That, through profane and infidel contempt 
 Of Uoly Writ, she has presumed t' annul 
 And abrogate, as roundly as she may. 
 The total ordinance and will of God ; 
 Advancing fashion to the post of truth. 
 And cent'ring all authority in modes 
 And customs of her own, till Sabbath rites 
 Have dwindled into unrespected forms, 
 And knees and hassocks are well-nigh divorced. 
 
 PLE DESIRES AND JOTS OF THE COUNTRY. — FOREBODINGS. 
 
 God made the country, and man made the town. 
 What wonder, then, that health and virtue, gifts 
 That can alone make sweet the bitter draught 
 That life holds out to all, should most abound 
 And least be threatened in the fields and groves ? 
 Possess ye, therefore, ye who, borne about 
 In chariots and sedans, know no fatigue 
 But that' of idleness, and taste no scenes 
 But such as art contrives, possess ye still 
 Your element ; there only can ye shine ; 
 There only minds like yours can do no harm. 
 Our groves were planted to console at noon 
 The pensive wanderer in their shades. .At eve 
 The moonbeam, sliding softly in between 
 The sleeping leaves, is all the light they wish. 
 Birds warbling all the music. We can spare 
 The splendor of your lamps : they but eclipse 
 Our softer satellite. Your songs confound 
 Our more harmonious notes : the thrush departs 
 Scared, and th' offended nightingale is mute. 
 There is a public mischief in your mirth ; 
 It plagues your country. Folly such as yours, 
 Graced with a sword, and worthier of a fan. 
 Has made, what enemies could ne'er have done. 
 Our arch of empire, steadfast but for you, 
 A mutilated structure, soon to fall. 
 
kistorals for Jiuiust. 
 
 TIIEOCRITUS'S "SINGERS OF P.\S- 
 TORALS." 
 
 AN I D Y I, . 
 
 TRANSLATED BY CHAPMAN. 
 
 DAPONIS ; MESALCAS ; A GOATnEBD. 
 
 Menalcas met, while pasturing his sheep, 
 The cowherd Daphnis on the highland steep ; 
 Both yellow-trcsscd, and in their life's fresh spring, 
 Both skilled to play the pipe, and both to sing. 
 
 Monalcos, with demeanor fair and free, 
 Spoke first : ' Good Daphnis, will you sing with mo? 
 I can out-sing you, whcnsoe'er I try. 
 Just as I please.' Then Daphnis made reply : 
 
 Shepherd and piper ! that may never be. 
 Happen what will, as you on proof will see. 
 
 MESALCAS. 
 
 Ah, will you see it, and a wager make ? 
 
 I will to see this and to pledge a stake. 
 
 And what the wager, worthy fame like ours ? 
 
 A calf my pledge, a full-grown lamb be yours. 
 
 At night my cross-grained sire and mother use 
 To count the sheep — that pledge I must refuse. 
 
 MBSALCAS. 
 
 I '11 pledge a nine-toned pipe, that even lies 
 In the joined reeds, with whitest wax Inlaid, 
 The musical sweet pipe I lately made ; 
 This will I pledge — and not my father's things. 
 DAPnsis. 
 
 I too have got a pipe that nine-toned rings. 
 Compact with white wax, even-jointed, new, — 
 Made by myself : a split reed sudden flew, 
 And gashed this finger — it is painful still. 
 But who shall judge which has the better skill ? 
 
 Suppose wo call that goatherd hither — see ! 
 Yon white dog at his kids barks lustily. 
 
 He came when called, and hearing their request. 
 Was willing to decide which sung the best. 
 Clearly their rival tones responsive rung. 
 Each in his turn, but first Menaloas sung. 
 
 Ye mountain-vales and rivers ! race divine ! 
 
 If aught Menalcas ever sung was sweet. 
 Feed ye these lambs ; and feed no less his kine, 
 
 When Daphnis drives them to this dear retreat. 
 
 Fountains and herbs, growth of the lively year ! 
 
 If Daphnis sings like any nightingale, 
 Fatten his herd ; and if Menalcas here 
 
 Conduct his flock, let not their pasture fail. 
 
 MENALCAS. 
 
 Pastures and spring, and milkful udders swelling, 
 And fatness for the lambs, is everywhere 
 
 At her approach : but if the girl excelling 
 
 Departs, both herbs and shepherd wither there. 
 
 The sheep and goats bear twins ; the bees up-luy 
 Full honey-stores, the spreading oaks are higher, 
 
 When Milto walks : but if she goes away, 
 
 The cowherd and his cows themselves are dryer. 
 
 Uxorious ram and flat-nosed kids, away 
 For water, to that wilderness of wood : 
 
 Then, ram without a horn ! to Milto say 
 Proteus, a god too ! fed the sea-calf brood. 
 
 DAPnSIS. 
 
 Nor Pelops' realm be mine, nor piles of gold. 
 Nor speed fleet as the wind ; but at this rook 
 
 To sing and clasp my darling, and behold 
 
 The seas blue reach, and many a pasturing flock. 
 
 MENALCAS. 
 
 To forest-beast the net, to bird the noose, 
 
 Winter to trees, and drought to springs, is bad ; 
 
 To man the sting of beauty. Mighty Zeus I 
 Not only I — thou too art woman-mad. 
 Their sweet notes thus, in turn, they did prolong, 
 
 Menaloas then took up the closing song. 
 
 MENALCAS. 
 
 Sparc, wolf ! my sheep and lambs ; nor injure me 
 Because I many tend, though small I be. 
 Sloepest, Lampurus? up ! no dog should sleep 
 That with the shepherd-boy attends his sheep. 
 
254 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — THEOCRITUS - 
 
 Be not to crop the tender herbage slow, 
 Feed on, my sheep, the grass again will grow, 
 Fill ye your udders that your lambs may have 
 Their share of milk, — I some for cheese may save. 
 
 Then Daphnis nest his tones preluding rung, 
 Gave to the music voice, and sweetly sung. 
 
 As yesterday I drove my heifers by, 
 A girl, me spying from a cavern nigh. 
 Exclaimed, ' How handsome ! ' I my way pursued 
 With downcast eyes, nor made her answer rude. 
 Sweet is the breath of cows and calves — and sweel 
 To bask by running stream in summer heat. 
 Acorns the oak ; and apples on the bough 
 Adorn the apple-tree ; her calf the cow ; 
 His drove of kine, depasturing the field. 
 His proper honor to the cowherd yield. 
 
 Th' admiring goatherd then his judgment spake : 
 ' Sweet is thy mouth, and sweetest tones awake 
 From thy lips, Daphnis ! I would rather hear 
 Thee sing than suck the honey-comb, I swear. 
 Take thou the pipe, for thine the winning song. 
 If thou wilt teach me here, my goats among, 
 Some song, I will that hornless goat bestow, 
 That ever fills the pail to overflow.' 
 
 Glad Daphnis clapped his hands, and on the lawn 
 He leaped, as round her mother leaps the fawn. 
 But sad Monalcas fed a smouldering gloom. 
 As grieves a girl betrothed to unknown groom. 
 And first in song was Daphnis from that time, 
 And wived a Naiad in his blooming prime. 
 
 PARNELL'S "HEALTH." 
 AN ECLOGUE. 
 
 Now early shepherds o'er the meadow pass, 
 And print long footsteps in the glittering grass ; 
 The cows neglectful of their pasture stand, 
 By turns obsequious to the milker's hand. 
 
 When Damon softly trod the shaven lawn ; 
 Damon, a youth from city cares withdrawn ; 
 Long was the pleasing walk he wandered through, 
 A covered arbor closed the distant view ; [throng 
 There rests the youth, and, while the feathered 
 Raise their wild music, thus contrives a song. 
 
 Here, wafted o*er by mild etesian air. 
 Thou country goddess, beauteous health ! repair, 
 Here let my breast through quivering trees inhale 
 Thy rosy blessings with the morning gale. 
 What are the fields, or flowers, or all I see? 
 Ah ! tasteless all, if not enjoyed with thee. 
 
 Joy to my soul ! I feel the goddess nigh, 
 The face of nature cheers as well as I ; 
 O'er the flat green refreshing breezes run, 
 
 The smiling daisies blow beneath the sun, 
 The brooks run purling down with silver waves, 
 The planted lanes rejoice with dancing leaves ; 
 The chirping birds from all the compass rove 
 To tempt the tuneful echoes of the grove : 
 High sunny summits, deeply-shaded dales, 
 Thick mossy banks, and flowery winding vales, 
 With various prospect gratify the sight, 
 And scatter fixed attention in delight. 
 
 Come, country goddess, come, nor thou suffice, 
 But bring thy mountain-sister, Exercise. 
 Called by thy lovely voice, she turns her pace, 
 Her winding horn proclaims the finished chase ; 
 She mounts the rocks, she skims the level plain. 
 Dogs, hawks, and horses, crowd her early train ; 
 Her hardy face repels the tanning wind, 
 And lines and meshes loosely float behind. 
 All these as means of toil the feeble see, 
 But these are helps to pleasure joined with thee. 
 
 Let sloth lie softening till high noon in down. 
 Or lolling fan her in the sultry town, 
 Unnerved with rest ; and turn her own disease. 
 Or foster others in luxurious case : 
 I mount the courser, call the deep-mouthed hounds, 
 The fox unkennelled flies to covert grounds ; 
 I lead where stags through tangled thickets tread, 
 And shake the saplings with their branching head; 
 I make the falcons wing their airy way, 
 And soar to seize, or stooping strike their prey ; 
 To snare the fish, I fix the lurking bait ; 
 To wound the fowl, I load the gun with fate. 
 'Tis thus through change of exercise I range. 
 And strength and pleasure rise from every change. 
 
 Here, beauteous Health ! for all the year remain ; 
 
 When the next comes, I HI charm thee thus again. 
 
 0, come, thou Goddess of my rural song ! 
 And bring thy daughter, calm Content, along ; 
 Dame of the ruddy cheek and laughing eye, 
 From whose bright presence clouds of sorrow fly : 
 For her I mow my walks, I plat my bowers, 
 Clip my low hedges, and support my flowers ; 
 To welcome her, this summer-seat I drest. 
 And here I court her when she comes to rest ; 
 When she from exercise to learned ease 
 Shall change again, and teach the change to please. 
 
 Now friends conversing my soft hours refine. 
 And Tally's Tusculum revives in mine : 
 Now to grave books I bid the mind retreat, 
 And such as make me rather good than great ; 
 Or, o'er the works of easy fancy rove. 
 Where flutes and innocence amuse the grove : 
 The native bard, that on Sicilian plains 
 First sung the lowly manners of the swains ; 
 Or, Maro*s muse, that in the fairest light 
 Paints rural prospects and the charms of sight ; 
 These soft amusements bring content along, 
 And fancy, void of sorrow, turns to song. 
 
 Here, beauteous Health ! for all the year remain ; 
 
 When the next comes, I '11 charm thee thus again. 
 
(Lv;ibbr'.s "Dillaqf.' 
 
 istanls. Ruilo 
 tVects of a lliRh 
 i;*itlei*«! J evils 
 ; his anltloquy. 
 The sick poor. 
 Tlie village 
 
 THE SOBJECr STITED •, POVERTY iS IT IS. 
 
 Tbe village life, and every caro that reigns 
 O'er youthful peasants and declining swains ; 
 What labor yields, and what, that labor past, 
 Age, in its hour of languor, finds at last ; 
 What form the real picture of the poor. 
 Demand a song — the Muse can give no more. 
 
 Fled are those times, when, in harmonious strains, 
 The rustic poet praised his native plains ; 
 No shepherds now, in smooth alternate verse, 
 Their country's beauty or their nymphs' rehearse ; 
 Yet still for these wo frame the tender strain, 
 Still in our lays fond Corydons complain. 
 And shepherds' boys their amorous pains reveal. 
 The only pains, alas ! they never feel. 
 
 On Minoio's banks, in Csesar's bounteous reign, 
 If Tityrus found the golden age again. 
 Must sleepy bards the flattering dream prolong, 
 Mechanic echoes of the Mantuan song ? 
 From truth and nature shall we widely stray. 
 Where Virgil, not where fancy, leads the way 7 
 
 Yes, thus the iMuses sing of happy swains, 
 Because the JIuscs never knew their pains : 
 They boast their peasants' pipes, but peasants now 
 Resign their pipes, and plod behind the plough ; 
 And few amid the rural tribe have time 
 To number syllables and play with rhyme ; 
 Save honest Buck, what son of verse could share 
 The poet's rapture and tbe peasant's caro t 
 Or the great labors of the field degrade, 
 With the new peril of a poorer trade ? 
 
 From this chief cause these idle praises spring, 
 That themes so easy few forbear to sing ; 
 For no deep thought the trifling subjects ask. 
 To sing of shepherds is an easy task ; 
 The happy youth assumes the common strain, 
 A nymph his mistress and himself a swain ; 
 With no sad scenes he clouds bis tuneful prayer, 
 Bat all, to look like her, is painted fair. 
 
 I grant indeed that fields and flocks have charms. 
 For him that gazes or for him that farms j 
 But when amid such pleasing scenes 1 trace 
 The poor, laborious natives of the place. 
 And see the midday sun, with fervid ray, 
 On their bare heads and dewy temples play ; 
 While some, with feebler hands and fainter hearts. 
 Deplore their fortune, yet sustain their parts, — 
 Then shall I dare these real ills to hide, 
 In tinsel trappings of poetic pride ? 
 
 No ; cast by fortune on a frowning coast. 
 Which neither groves nor happy valleys boast ; 
 Where other cares than those the muse relates. 
 And other shepherds dwell with other mates j 
 By such examples taught, I paint the cot. 
 As truth will paint it, and as bards will not : 
 Nor you, ye poor, of lettered scorn complain. 
 To you the smoothest song is smooth in vain ; 
 O'orcome by labor and bowed down by time. 
 Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme ? 
 Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread, 
 By winding myrtles round your ruined shed ? 
 Can their light tales your weighty griefs o'erpower. 
 Or glad with airy mirth the toilsome hour ? 
 
 Lo! where the heath, with withering brake grown 
 
 Lends the light turf that warms the neighboring 
 From thence a length of burning sand appears. 
 Where the thin harvest waves its withered ears j 
 Bank weeds, that every art and care defy, 
 Kcign o'er the land, and rob the blighted rye : 
 There thistles stretch their prickly arms afar, 
 And to the ragged infant threaten war ; 
 There poppies, nodding, mock the hope of toil. 
 There the blue bugloss paints the sterile soil ; 
 Hardy and high, above the slender sheaf. 
 The slimy mallow waves her silky leaf ; 
 O'er the young shoot the charlock throws a shade. 
 And clasping tares cling round the sickly blade ; 
 With mingled tints the rocky coasts abound, 
 And a sad splendor vainly shines around. 
 
 So looks the nymph whom wretched arts adorn, 
 Betrayed by man, then left for man to scorn ; 
 Whose cheek in vain assumes the mimic rose. 
 While her sod eyes the troubled breast disclose ; 
 
256 
 
 RUKAL POETRY. 
 
 Whose outward splendor is but folly's dress, 
 Exposing most, when most it gilds distress. 
 
 Here joyless roam a wild, amphibious race. 
 With sullen woe displayed in every face ; 
 Who far from civil arts and social fly. 
 And scowl at strangers with suspicious eye. 
 
 Here too the lawless merchant of the main 
 Draws from his plough the intoxicated swain ; ' 
 Want only claimed the labor of the day. 
 But vice now steals his nightly rest away. 
 
 Where are the swains, who, daily labor done, 
 With rural games played down the setting sun ; 
 Who struck with matchless force the bounding ball. 
 Or made the ponderous quoit obliquely fall ; 
 While some huge Ajax, terrible and strong, 
 Engaged some artful stripling of the throng. 
 And fell beneath him, foiled, while far around 
 Hoarse triumph rose, and rocks returned the sound ? 
 Where now are these ? Beneath yon cliff they stand. 
 To show the freighted pinnace where to land ; 
 To load the ready steed with guilty haste. 
 To fly in terror o'er the pathless waste ; 
 Or when detected in their straggling course, 
 To foil their foes by cunning or by force : 
 Or yielding part (which equal knaves demand) 
 To gain a lawless passport through the land. 
 
 Here wandering long, amid these frowning fields, 
 I sought the simple life that nature yields ; 
 Rapine and wrong and fear usurped her place. 
 And a bold, artful, surly, savage race ; 
 Who, only skilled to take the finny tribe, 
 The yearly dinner, or septennial bribe. 
 Wait on the shore, and as the waves run high. 
 On the tossed vessel bend their eager eye ; 
 Which to their coast directs its venturous way. 
 Theirs or the ocean's miserable prey. 
 
 As on the neighboring beach yon swallows stand. 
 And wait for favoring winds to leave the land ; 
 While still for flight the ready wing is spread : 
 So waited I the favoring hour, and fled ; 
 Fled from these shores where guilt and famine reign. 
 And cried. Ah ! hapless they who still remain ; 
 Who still remain to hear the ocean roar, 
 Whose greedy waves devour the lessening shore ; 
 Till some fierce tide, with more imperious sway, 
 Sweeps the low hut and all it holds away ; 
 When the sad tenant weeps from door to door, 
 And begs a poor protection from the poor. 
 
 But yet in other scenes more fair in view. 
 Where plenty smiles — alas ! she smiles for few ; 
 And those who taste not, yet behold her store. 
 Are as the slaves that dig the golden ore, 
 The wealth around'them makes them doubly poor. 
 
 LABOR ', EXPOSDEES OF THE LABOREK. 
 
 Or will you deem them amply paid in health. 
 Labor's fair chUd, that languishes with wealth ? 
 Go then ! and see them rising with the sun. 
 Through a long course of daily toil to run ; 
 See them beneath the dog-star's raging heat. 
 When the knees tremble and the temples beat ; 
 Behold them, leaning on their scythes, look o'er 
 The labor past, and toils to come explore ; 
 See them alternate suns and showers engage, 
 And hoard up aches and anguish for their age ; 
 Through fens and marshy moors their steps pursue. 
 When their warm pores imbibe the evening dew ; 
 Then own that labor may as fatal be 
 To these thy slaves, as thine excess to thee. 
 
 But these aro scenes where Nature's niggard hand 
 Gave a spare portion to the famished land ; 
 Hers is the fault, if here mankind complain 
 Of fruitless toil, and labor spent in vain ; 
 
 )RER ; mS MANLY PHmE. 
 
 Amid this tribe too oft a manly pride 
 Strives in strong toil the fainting heart to hide ; 
 There may you see the youth of slender frame 
 Contend with weakness, weariness, and shame ; 
 Yet urged along, and proudly loath to yield, 
 He strives to join his fellows of the field ; 
 Till long-contending nature droops at last. 
 Declining health rejects his poor repast. 
 His cheerless spouse the coming danger sees, 
 And mutual murmurs urge the slow disease. 
 
 Yet grant them health, 't is not for us to tell. 
 Though the head droops not, that the heart is well ; 
 Or will you praise that homely, healthy fare, 
 Plenteous and plain, that happy peasants share ? 
 ! trifle not with wants you cannot feel. 
 Nor mock the misery of a stinted meal ; 
 Homely not wholesome, plain not plenteous, such 
 As you who praise would never deign to touch. 
 
 Ye gentle souls, who dream of rural ease, 
 Whom the smooth stream and smoother sonnel 
 
 please ; 
 Go ! if the peaceful cot your praises share. 
 Go look within, and ask if peace be there : 
 If peace be his — that drooping, weary sire. 
 Or theirs, that ofispring round their feeble fire ; 
 Or hers, that matron pale, whose trembling hand 
 Turns on the wretched hearth the expiring brand. 
 
 Nor yet can time itself obtain for these 
 Life's latest comforts, duo respect and ease ; 
 For yonder see that hoary swain, whose age 
 Can with no cares except its own engage ; 
 Who, propped on that rude stafi', looks up to see 
 The bare arms broken from the withering tree ; 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 257 
 
 On which, a boy, ho climbod tho loftiest bough, 
 Then his first joy, but his sad omblom now. 
 
 He once was chief in nil tlio rustic trade. 
 His steady hand the straightost furrow mudo ; 
 Full many a prize he won, and still is proud 
 To find the triumphs of his youth allowed ; 
 A transient pleasure sparkles in his eyes, 
 He heai-s and smiles, then thinks again and sighs : 
 For now he journeys to bis grave in pain ; 
 The rich disdain him ; nay, tho poor disdain ; 
 Alternate masters now their slave eommand,i 
 Urge the weak efforts of his feeble hand, 
 And, when his age attempts its task in vain. 
 With ruthless taunts, of laiy poor complain. 
 
 Oft may you see him when he tends tho sheep. 
 His winter charge, beneath the hillock weep ; 
 Oft hear him murmur to the winds that blow 
 O'er his white locks, and bury them in snow ; 
 When roused by rage and muttering in the morn, 
 He mends tho broken hedge with icy thorn. 
 
 DBSPAmiSO COMPLAIST OF TIIK AGED PAUPER LABORER. 
 
 ' Why do I live, when I desire to bo 
 At once from life and life's long labor free? 
 Like leaves in Spring, the young are blown away. 
 Without the sorrows of a slow decay ; 
 I, like yon withered leaf, remain behind, 
 Nipt by the frost, and shivering in the wind ; 
 There it abides till younger buds come on. 
 As I, now all my fellow-swains are gone ; 
 Then, from the rising generation thrust. 
 It falls, like me, unnoticed to the dust. 
 
 ' These fruitful fields, these numerous flocks 1 8e( 
 Are others' gain, but killing cares to me ; 
 To me the children of my youth are lords. 
 Cool in their looks, but hasty in their words ; 
 Wants of their own demand their care, and who 
 Feels his own want and succors others too 7 
 A lonely, wretched man, in pain I go. 
 None need my help, and none relieve my woe ; 
 Then let my bones beneath the turf be laid, 
 And men forget the wretch they would not aid.' 
 
 Thus groan the old, till, by disease opprest. 
 They taste a final woe, and then they rest. 
 
 THE PARISH POOB-HI 
 
 C0STRA9TED wrrn TlIIl 
 
 Theirs is yon house that holds the parish poor. 
 Whose walls of mud scarce bear tho broken door ; 
 There, where the putrid vapors, flagging, play, 
 And the dull wheel hums doleful through tho day ; 
 There children dwell who know no parents' care. 
 Parents, who know no children's love, dwell there ; 
 Heart-broken matrons on their joyless bed. 
 Forsaken wives, and mothers never wed ; 
 Dejected widows with unheeded tears. 
 And crippled age with more than childhood-fears ; 
 The lame, tho blind, and, far the happiest they ! 
 Tho moping idiot, and the madman gay. 
 
 ' KBRTOCS 001IPLA1.1TS ' 
 
 Here too the sick their final doom receive. 
 Hero brought amid the scenes of grief, to grieve ; 
 Whore tho loud groans from some sad chamber flow, 
 Mixt with the clamors of tho crowd below ; 
 Here sorrowing, they each kindred sorrow scan, 
 And the cold charities of man to man : 
 Whoso laws indeed for ruined age provide. 
 And strong compulsion plucks the scrap from pride ; 
 But still that scrap is bought with many a sigh. 
 And pride embitters what it can't deny. 
 
 Say ye, opprest by sum.' nuitiu-lii- wo.-s 
 Some jarring nerve lli:it i i i , -r ; 
 
 Who press the downy iidvanco 
 
 With timid eye, to riai < ; 
 
 Who with sad prayers iIh' «> m' i u.i. i.n uuie, 
 To name tho nameles.--, ever-new disease ; 
 Who with mock patience dire complaints endure, 
 Which real pain, and that alone, can cure ; 
 How would ye bear in real pain to lie 
 Despised, neglected, left alone to die ? 
 How would yo bear to draw your latest breath, 
 AVhere all that 's wretched pave the way for death? 
 
 Such is that room which one rude beam divides, 
 And naked rafters form tho sloping sides ; 
 Where the vile bands that bind tho thatch are seen, 
 And lath and mud are all that lie between ; 
 Save one dull pane, that, coarsely patched, gives way 
 To the rude tempest, yet excludes the day : 
 Here, on a matted flock, with dust o'crspread. 
 The drooping wretch reclines his languid head ; 
 For him no hand the cordial cup applies. 
 Or wipes the tear that stagnates in his eyes ; 
 No friends with soft discourse his pain beguile. 
 Or promise hope till sickness wears a smile. 
 
 THE POOR-HOraB DOCTOR ASD ms VISPT DESCRIBED. 
 
 Dill ." II II l"iil 1111.1 hasty summons calls, 
 Sli,, I, and echoes round tho walls ; 
 
 All. I ■ 1-. .[uaintly neat. 
 
 All |.iuIl .iiiil liu. uiLjs, bustle and conceit ; 
 With luuks unaltered by these scenes of woe, 
 With speed that, entering, speaks his haste to go ; 
 He bids tho gazing throng around him fly. 
 And carries fate and physio in his eye ; 
 A potent quack, long versed in human ills. 
 Who first insults tho victim whom he kills ; 
 Whose murderous hand a drowsy Bench protect. 
 And whose most tender mercy is neglect. 
 
 Paid by the parish for attendanoo hero. 
 He wears contempt upon his sapient sneer ; 
 In haste ho seeks the bed where misery lies. 
 Impatience marked in his averted eyes ; 
 And, some habitual queries hurried o'er, 
 Without reply, he rushes on the door ; 
 His drooping patient, long inured to pain. 
 And long unheeded, knows remonstrance vain ; 
 
258 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 He ceases now the feeble help to crave 
 Of man ; and silent sinks into the grave. 
 
 But ere his death some pious doubts arise, 
 Some simple fears which ' bold, bad' men despise ; 
 Fain would he ask the parish priest to prove 
 His title certain to the joys above ; 
 For this he sends the murmuring nurse, who calls 
 The holy stranger to these dismal walls ; 
 And doth not he, the pious man, appear, 
 He, ' passing rich with forty pounds a year' ? 
 Ah ! no, a shepherd of a different stock, 
 And far unlike him, feeds this little flock ; 
 A jovial youth, who think.^ hi- .--ii]m1;i\ s task 
 As much as God or man CM II I.I III) n-l ; 
 The rest he gives to loves an- 1 lal-.i- li-lil. 
 To fields the morning and tu Kar-tc the night ; 
 None better skilled the noisy pack to guide. 
 To urge their chase, to cheer them or to chide ; 
 A sportsman keen, he shoots through half the day. 
 And, skilled at whist, devotes the night to play ; 
 Then, while such honors bloom around his head. 
 Shall he sit sadly by the sick man's bed 
 To raise the hope he feels not, or with zeal 
 To combat fears that ev'n the pious feel ? 
 
 Now once again the gloomy scene explore. 
 Less gloomy now ; the bitter hour is o'er, 
 The man of many sorrows sighs no more. 
 Up yonder hill, behold how sadly slow 
 The bier moves winding from the vale below ; 
 There lie the happy dead, from trouble free, 
 And the glad parish pays the frugal fee ; 
 No more, Death ! thy victim starts to hear 
 Chui-chwarden stern, or kingly overseer ; 
 No more the farmer claims his humble bow, — 
 Thou art his lord, the best of tyrants thou ! 
 
 Now to the church behold the mourners come. 
 Sedately torpid and devoutly dumb ; 
 The village children now their games suspend. 
 To see the bier that bears their ancient friend ; 
 For he was one in all their idle sport, 
 And like a monarch ruled their little court ; 
 The pliant bow he formed, the flying ball. 
 The bat, the wicket, were his labors all ; 
 Him now they follow to his grave, and stand 
 Silent and sad, and gazing, hand in hand ; 
 While, bending low, their eager eyes explore 
 The mingled relics of the parish poor : 
 The bell tolls late, the moping owl flies round, 
 Fear marks the flight and magnifies the sound ; 
 The busy priest, detained by weightier care, 
 Defers his duty till the day of prayer ; 
 And, waiting long, the crowd retire distressed, 
 To think a poor man's bones should lie unblest. 
 
 There are found, amid th 
 scenes of ti'anquillity.a 
 pleasure of a sninmpr Si 
 
 , laborious life, 
 59. The repose 
 rrapted by intn 
 
 ;lic DiiUe of Rutl 
 
 ES OF VILLAGE : 
 
 No longer truth, though shown in verse, disdain, 
 But own the Village Life a life of pain ; 
 I too must yield, that oft amid these woes [pose. 
 Are gleums of transient mirth and hours of sweet re- 
 >iirli a- y-iu find on yonder sportive green, 
 III' "jiiii. s tall gate and church way -walk between; 
 W III ir l.aU'iing stray a little tribe of friends, 
 I 111 a liiir Sunday when the sermon ends : 
 Then rural beaux their best attire put on. 
 To win their nymphs, as other nymphs are won ; 
 While those long wed go plain, and by degrees. 
 Like other husbands, quit their care to please. 
 Some of the sermon talk, a sober crowd. 
 And loudly praise, if it were preached aloud ; 
 Some on the labors of the week look round. 
 Feel their own worth; and think their toil renowned; 
 While some, whose hopes to no renown extend. 
 Are only pleased to find their labors end. 
 
 TUE SABBATH GBCDGED TO THE POOK BY SOME. — ITS USB. 
 — ITS REST DISTCBBED BY BRCTALITV. 
 
 Thus, as their hours glide on with pleasure 
 fraught. 
 Their careful masters brood the painful thought ; 
 i\lueh in tbeir.mind they murmur and lament. 
 That one fair day should be so idly spent ; [store 
 And think that Heaven deals hard, to tithe their 
 And tax their time for preachers and the poor. 
 
 Yet still, ye humbler friends, enjoy your hour, 
 This is your portion, yet unclaimed of power ; 
 This is Heaven's gift to weary men opprest. 
 And seems the type of their expected rest : 
 But yours, alas ! are joys that soon decay ; 
 Frail joys, begun and ended with the day ; 
 Or yet, while day permits those joys to reign. 
 The village vices drive them from the plain. 
 
 See the stout churl, in drunken fury great, 
 Strike the bare bosom of his teeming mate ! 
 His naked vices, rude and unrefined. 
 Exert their open empire o'er the mind ; 
 But can we less the senseless rage despise, 
 Because the savage acts without disguise ? 
 
 VILLAGE DISSIMCLATION ; SLAX0EB. 
 
 l^et here disguise, the city's vice, is seen, 
 And slander steals along and taints the green. 
 At her approach domestic peace is gone, 
 Domestic broils at her approach come on ; 
 She to the wife the husband's crime conveys, 
 She tells the husband when his consort strays ; 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 Her busy tongue, through all tho littlo state, 
 Diffuses doubt, suspicion, and debate ; 
 Pence, timorous goddess ! quits her old domain, 
 In sentiment and song content to i 
 
 
 LICESTIOCSXKSS i 
 
 Nor are tho nymphs that breathe the rural air 
 So fair as Cynthia's, nor so chaste as fitir ; 
 These to the town afford each fresher face, 
 And the clown's trull receives the peer's embrace ; 
 From whom, should chance again convey her down, 
 The peer's disease in turn attacks tho clown. 
 
 Hoar lotthe 'squire, or 'squire-liko farmer, talk. 
 How round their regions nightly pilferers walk ; 
 How from their ponds the fish arc borne, and all 
 The ripening treasures from their lofty wall ; 
 How meaner rivals in their sports delight. 
 Just rich enough to claim a doubtful right ; 
 Who take a license round their fields to stray, 
 A mongrel race ! the poachers of the day. 
 
 A VILLAGE RIOT ON Xnu VILLAGE GREEN. 
 
 And hark ! the riots of the green begin. 
 That sprang at first from yonder noisy inn ; 
 What time the weekly pay was vanished all, 
 And the slow hostess scored the threatening wall ; 
 What time they asked, their friendly feast to close, 
 A final cup, and that will make them foes ; 
 When blows ensue that break the arm of toil, 
 And rustic battle ends the boobies' broil. 
 
 Save when to yonder hall they bend their way, 
 Where the grave justice ends tho grievous fray ; 
 Ho who recites, to keep the poor in awe, 
 The law's vast volume — for he knows the law. — 
 To him with anger or with shame repair 
 The injured peasant and deluded fair. 
 
 Lo ! at his throne the silent nymph appears, 
 Frail by her shape, but modest in her tears ; 
 And while she stands abashed, with conscious eye. 
 Some favorite female of her judge glides by ; 
 Who views with scornful glance the strumpet's fate, 
 And thanks tho stars that made her keeper great : 
 Near her the swain, about to bear for life 
 One certain evil, doubts 'twixt war and wife ; 
 But, while the faltering damsel takes her oath, 
 Consents to wed, and so secures thein both. 
 
 Yet why, you ask, these humble crimes relate. 
 Why make the poor as guilty as the great ? 
 To show the great, those mightier sons of pride, 
 How near in vice the lowest are allied ; 
 Such are their natures, and their passions such. 
 But these disguise too littlo, those too much ; 
 So shall the man of power and pleasure see 
 In his own slave as vile a wretoh as he ; 
 
 In his luxurious lord the servant find 
 His own low pleasures and degenerate mind ; 
 And each in all tho kindred vices trace, 
 Of a poor, blind, bewildered, erring race ! 
 Who, a short timo in varied fortune past, 
 Die, and are equal in the dust at last. 
 
 ENVT OF THE lUCH BY THE POOR, DISSCADEO FROM. 
 
 And you, ye poor, who still lament your fate, 
 Forbear to envy those you call tho groat ; 
 And know, amid those blessings they possess. 
 They are, like you, the victims of distress ; 
 While sloth with many a pang torments her slave. 
 Fear waits on guilt, and danger shakes tho brave. 
 
 0, if in life one noble chief appears. 
 Great in his name, while blooming in his years ; 
 Born to enjoy wbate'er delights mankind. 
 And yet to all you feel or fear resigned ; 
 Who gave up joys and hopes to you unknown. 
 For pains and dangers greater than your own ! 
 If such there be, then let your murmurs cease. 
 Think, think of him, and take your lot in peace. 
 
 And such there was : — ! grief, that checks 
 
 Weeping we say there was, for Manners died ; 
 Beloved of Heaven, these humble lines forgive. 
 That sing of thee,' and thus aspire to live. 
 
 As the tall oak, whose vigorous branches form 
 An ample shade, and brave the wildest storm. 
 High o'er the subject wood is seen to grow, 
 The guard and glory of the trees below ; 
 Till on its head the fiery bolt descends, 
 And o'fM- th'. j-hiiti ttt.. -ItMtt'.r.^'l trunk extends ; 
 Yctthvn it li.^, ,,!■ .,..1 I,. , ,. iK.f.,re, 
 And ;-tilI ilir - |..i ; . 1 ■ . Mj i. I i I ju;ird no more. 
 
 So Hi. 111. uh. II . \. ly 1 iiiii,. . vrry grace. 
 Rose in thy soul, ..r slicme within thy face ; 
 When, though the son of Granby, thou wert known 
 Less by thy father's glory than thy own ; 
 When honor loved, and gave thee every charm. 
 Fire to thy eye and vigor to thy arm ; 
 Then from our lofty hopes and longing eyes. 
 Fate and thy virtues called thee to the skies : 
 Yet still we wonder at thy towering fame. 
 And, losing thee, still dwell upon thy name. 
 
 0, ever honored, ever valued ! say 
 What verse can praise thee, or what work repay ? 
 Yet verse (in all we can) thy worth repays. 
 Nor trusts the tardy zeal of future days ; — 
 
 I Lonl Robert Manners, the ynmigcst son of the Marquis 
 of Granby, and the Lady Frances Seymour, daughter of 
 Chark-s, Uukc of Somerset, was bom the 6lh of February, 
 I76S, and was placed with his brother, the late Duke of 
 Itutland, at Eton School, where he acquired, and ever after 
 retained, a considerable knowledge of the classical authors. 
 
 Lord Robert, after going through t 
 Blon on board different ships, was ma 
 lution, and commanded her in nine A 
 the last memorable one, on the 2d of April, 
 breaking the French line of hi 
 which terminated his life, in the twenty-fourth year of hU 
 age. — See Dodatey^s Annual Register. 
 
260 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Honors for thee thy country shall prepare, 
 Thee in their hearts the good, the brave, shall bear; 
 To deeds like thine shall noblest chiefs aspire, 
 The muse shall mourn thee, and the world admire. 
 In future times, when, smit with glory's charms, 
 The untried youth first quits a father's arms ; 
 '0, be like him !' the weeping sire shall say, 
 'Like Manners walk, who walked in honor's way ; 
 In danger foremost, yet in death sedate, 
 0, be like him in all things, but his fate ! ' 
 If for that fate such public tears be shed, 
 That victory seems to die now thou art dead ; 
 How shall a friend his nearer hope resign, 
 That friend a brother, and whose soul was thine ; 
 By what bold lines shall we his grief express. 
 Or by what soothing niunbers make it less ? 
 
 'T is not, I know, the chiming of a song. 
 Nor all the powers that to the muse belong, 
 "Words aptly culled and meanings well expressed, 
 Can calm the sorrows of a wounded breast ; 
 But virtue, soother of the fiercest pains, 
 Shall heal that bosom, Rutland, where she reigns. 
 
 Yet hard the task to heal the bleeding heart, 
 To bid the still-recurring thoughts depart ; 
 Tame the fierce grief and stem the rising sigh, 
 And curb rebellious passion, with reply ; — 
 Calmly to dwell on all that pleased before, 
 And yet to know that all shall please no more ; — 
 0, glorious labor of the soul to save 
 Her captive powers, and bravely mourn the brave ! 
 
 To such, these thoughts will la<<ting comfort 
 Life is not mea'^ured by the time we li\e 
 'T is not an even oouise of three score years 
 
 A life of narrow views and paltry fears. 
 Gray hairs and wrinkles and the cares they bring, 
 That take from death the terrors or the sting ; 
 But 't is the generous spirit, mounting high. 
 Above the world, that native of the sky ; 
 The noble spirit, that, in dangers brave, 
 Calmly looks on, or looks beyond the grave ; 
 Such Manners was, so he resigned his breath, 
 If in a glorious, then a timely, death. 
 
 Cease, then, that grief, and let those tears subside, 
 If passion rule us, be that passion prido ; 
 If reason, reason bids us strive to raise 
 Our fallen hearts, and be like him we praise ; 
 Or if affection still the soul subdue, 
 Bring all his virtues, all his worth, in view, 
 And let affection find its comfort too ; 
 For how can grief so deeply wound the heart, 
 ^yhen admiration claims so large a part'? 
 
 Grief is a foe, expel him then thy soul, 
 Let nobler thoughts the nearer views control ; 
 0, make the age to come thy better care. 
 See other Rutlands, other Granbys, there ; 
 And as thy thoughts through streaming ages glide, 
 See other heroes die as Manners died : 
 And, from their fate, thy race shall nobler grow, 
 As trees shoot upwards that are pruned below ; 
 Or as old Thames, borne down with decent pride, 
 Sees his young streams run warbling at his side ; 
 Though some, by art cut off, no longer run. 
 And some are lost beneath the Summer's sun — 
 Yet the pure stream moves on, and as it moves. 
 Its power increases and its use improves ; 
 V, hile plenty lound its spacious waves bestow, 
 Still it flows on and shall forever fiow. 
 
Tvuval (i>i)r5 for ^uiius' 
 
 BRYANT'S "RIVULET." 
 
 This little rill that from tlie springs 
 Of yonder grove its current brings, 
 Plays on, the slope a while, and then 
 Goes prattling into groves again, — 
 Oft to its warbling waters drew 
 My little feet when life was new. 
 When woods in early green were drest, 
 And from the chambers of the west 
 The warmer breezes, travelling out, 
 Breathed the new scent of flowers about, 
 My truant steps from homo would stray, 
 Upon its grassy side to play ; 
 To crop the violet on ita brim, 
 And listen to the throstle's hymn, 
 With bluDUiing cheek and open brow, 
 As young and gay, sweet rill, as thou. 
 
 And when the days of boyhood came. 
 And I had grown in love with fame, 
 Dulv I sought thy banks, and tried 
 My first rudo numbers by thy side. 
 Words cannot tell how glad and gay 
 The scenes of life before me lay. 
 Iligh visions, then, and lofty schemes. 
 Glorious and bright as fairy dreams, 
 And daring hopes, that now to speak 
 Would bring the blood into my cheek. 
 Passed o'er mo ; and I wrote on high 
 A name I deemed should never die. 
 
 Tears change thee not. Upon yon hill 
 The tall old maples, verdant still. 
 Yet tell, in proud and grand decay, 
 How snilt the years have passed away. 
 Since first, a child, and half afraid, 
 I wandered in the forest shade. 
 But thou, gay, merry rivulet. 
 Dost dimple, play, and prattle, yet ; 
 And sporting with the sands that pavo 
 Tho windings of thy silver wave. 
 And dancing to thy own wild chime, 
 Thou laughcst at tho lapse of time. 
 Tho same sweet sounds aro in my ear 
 My early childhood loved to hear ; 
 As pure thy limpid waters run. 
 As bright they sparkle to tho sun ; 
 As fresh the herbs that crowd to drink 
 
 The moisture of thy oozy brink ; 
 Tho violet there, in soft, May dew, 
 Comes up, as modest and as blue ; 
 As green amid thy current's stress 
 Floats the scarce-rooted water cress ; 
 And the brown ground-bird, in thy glen. 
 Still chirps as merrily as then. 
 
 Thou changest not — but I am changed. 
 Since first thy pleasant banks I ranged ; 
 And tho grave stranger, come to see 
 The play-place of his infancy, 
 lias scarce a single trace of him 
 Who sported once npon thy brim. 
 The visions of ray youth are past — 
 Too bright, too beautiful, to last. 
 I 'vo tried the world — it wears no more 
 Tho coloring of romance it wore. 
 Yet well has nature kept tho truth 
 She promised to my earliest youth ; 
 The radiant beauty, shed abroad 
 On all the glorious works of God, 
 Shows freshly, to my sobered eye. 
 Each charm it wore in days gone by. 
 
 A few brief years shall pass away. 
 And I, all trembling, weak, and gray. 
 Bowed to the earth, which waits to fold 
 My ashes in tho embracing mould, — 
 If haply tho dark will of fato 
 Indulge my life so long a date, — 
 May come for the last time to look 
 Upon my childhood's favorite brook. 
 Then dimly on my eye shall gleam 
 The sparkle of thy dancing stream ; 
 And faintly on my ear shall fall 
 Thy prattling current's merry call ; 
 Y'ct shalt thou flow as glad and bright 
 As when thon met'st my infant sight. 
 
 And I shall sleep — and on thy side. 
 As ages after ages glide. 
 Children their early sports shall try, 
 And pass to hoary age, and die. 
 But thou, unchanged from year to year, 
 Oayly shalt play and glitter here ; 
 Amid young flowers and tender grass 
 Thy endless infancy shalt i>ass ; 
 And, singing down thy narrow glen, 
 Shalt mock tho fading rooo of men. 
 
RURAL POETRY. — STREET — ANACREON — CLARE — MILTON. 
 
 STREET'S "AUGUST." 
 An August day ! a dreamy haze 
 
 Films air, and mingles with the slties ; 
 Sweetly the rich, dark sunshine plays, 
 
 Bronzing each object where it lies. 
 Outlines are melted in the gauze 
 
 That Nature veils ; the fitfulbreeze 
 From the thick pine low murmuring draws, 
 
 Then dies in flutterings midst the trees. 
 The bee is slumbering in the thistle, 
 And, now and then, a broken whistle, 
 A tread — a hum — a tap — is heard 
 
 Through the dry leaves, in grass and bush, 
 As insect, animal, and bird. 
 
 Rouse brief from their lethargic hush. 
 Then e'en these pleasant sounds would cease. 
 And a dread stillness all things lock : 
 The aspen seem like sculptured rock. 
 And not a tassel thread be shaken, 
 The monarch pine's deep trance to waken. 
 And Nature settle prone in drowsy peace. 
 The misty blue — the distant masses. 
 
 The air in woven purple glimmering. 
 The shiver transiently that passes 
 Over the leaves, as though each tree 
 
 Gave one brief sigh — the slumberous shimme 
 Of the red light — invested seem 
 
 With some sweet charm, that soft, serene. 
 Mellows the gold — the blue — the green, 
 Into mild, tempered harmony. 
 
 And melts the sounds that intervene. 
 As scarce to break the quiet, till we deem 
 Nature herself transformed to Fancy's dream. 
 
 ANACREON'S "GRASSHOPPER." 
 
 TRANSLATED FKOM THE GREEK BV COWLEY. 
 
 IIlPPT 
 
 whc 
 
 1 t thee ' 
 
 r I I 
 
 Tl I ntle wme ! 
 
 N I 1 th e t II 
 
 And thj \ciddntc, i does fill 
 
 T IS filled wherevti thoi d t tiead, 
 
 Nit If tly ymedo 
 
 ' I I ce anl sing, 
 
 1^1^^ I tkmg 
 
 '^ll 1 I „t thee'"' 
 
 All that summ i houis pioduce 
 Fertile made with early juioe 
 Man for thee does sow and plough ; 
 Farmer he, and landlord thou ! 
 Thou dost innocently enjoy ; 
 Nor does thy luxury destroy. , 
 The shepherd gladly heareth thee. 
 More harmonious than he. 
 
 Thee country hinds with gladness hear, 
 
 Prophet of the ripened year ' 
 
 Thee Ph.,.h,„ ,,,,„, „„i<i,,es inspire; 
 
 Pho'l,,,- i- l„,„-,.|, ii,v ,i,-i., 
 
 TothiT, „|- ,11 ,1,,,,,- H|„,„ earth. 
 
 Life is „n long,.,. ih;u, thy mirth. 
 
 Happy in.sect ! happy thou, 
 
 Dost neither age nor winter know. 
 
 But when thou 'st drunk, and danced, and i 
 
 Thy fill, the flowery leaves among 
 
 (Voluptuous and wise withal. 
 
 Epicurean animal !), 
 
 Satiated with thy summer feast. 
 
 Thou retir-st to endless rest. 
 
 CLARE'S "SUMMER INSECTS." 
 These tiny loiterers on the barley's beard. 
 And happy units of a numerous herd 
 Of playfellows, the laughing Summer brings ; 
 Mocking the sunshine on their glittering wings 
 How merrily they creep, and run, and fly ! 
 No kin they bear to labor's drudgery. 
 Smoothing the velvet of the pale°hed'ge-rose 
 And where they fly for dinner no one knows'; 
 
 The dew-dr, 
 Ofi 
 
 they love the shii 
 I- them golden wine 
 their Sunday dress - 
 
 'od they fly, 
 and all 
 
 All day (!■,.> 'ir , 
 
 hen night rr,,,,., , 
 
 Then to the hr;,il,L, 
 
 Secure from mii], :il._. ._,.„,,ju„j^ uu,,^ 
 On silken beds in roomy, painted hall 
 So merrily they spend their summer day. 
 Or in the eorn-fieUIs. or in new-mown hay. 
 Onealmo.st f.n. ir,. i|,;,l mkI. happy things 
 
 With colon., I 1 |.;,n,| n,.hly-l,urnishedwii 
 
 Are fairy folk, ii, -,,l,.,„l„| ,„;,_.,ii,erade 
 Disguised, .is U ,..1 muiUl lulk afraid ; 
 Keeping their joyous pranks a mystery still. 
 Lest glaring day should do their secrets ill. 
 
 MILTON'S "EVENING." 
 
 Now came still Evening on, and twilight gray 
 Had in her sober livery all things clad ; 
 Silence accompanied : for beast and bird — 
 They to their grassy couch, these to their nests — 
 Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale. 
 She all night long her amorous descant sung ; 
 Silence was pleased : now glowed the firmament 
 With living sapphires ; Hesperus, that led 
 The starry host, rode brightest till the Moon, 
 Rising in clouded m.ijesty, at length 
 Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light, 
 the dark her silver mantle threw. 
 
 And. 
 
Hclillc's "aountvD (hruticiium 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY JOHN MAUNDE. 
 
 live in the country. 
 
 now a proprietor 
 
 8ppoimni.T-t r-.r 
 
 Whit.-,,: 1 ■ I.™. 
 
 Sprin,-, ,.- .-:. - --:■- v.. I-- .-huoling. 
 huntinc, .lv..tli ..1 il.. -i.ih. Au... riiaam-es or frienil- 
 ship nccesaavy. llo^piliilily to tin- living. Hospitality 
 to the dead. Ilonora paid to authors. Incitements to 
 generosity. Rural industry. Rustic poverty relieved. 
 The village pastor, Tillage schoolmaster. Infant disposi- 
 tions. Infant abilities. Superstition, advice against. 
 Bowls, archery, dancing. 
 
 RCBiL POETBT.—BOILKiC — VIRGIL. 
 
 From H.iilr.iu's miiso. of bold and haughty ' 
 
 The rit'iil In 
 
 Tho Jl.n.lu:,, 
 
 With rcn.li.i 
 Fain would i 
 
 r |...Ii li.il vorse are known ; 
 rl 111- Ml the docile field 
 il it- taiily produce yield, 
 numbers teach the human heart 
 
 That pure enjoyment which our fields impart : 
 How vain the wish ! so shall the sylvan muso 
 Each pedant rule, each harsher note, refuse ; 
 Show Nature's form in smiling beauty drcst. 
 And call mankind to view hor and bo blest ! 
 
 I.VV0CJITI0S TO COUSTRT QCICT ASD VIItTrE. 
 
 Come, then, ye blissful scenes, ye soft retreats 
 Where life flows pure, the heart more calmly beats; 
 Where harmless pleasure lulls tho tranquil mind. 
 Nor leaves tho sting of diro reproach behind ! 
 Inspire my pen ! that, drawn in Nature's cause, 
 With genuine pleasure mingles Virtue's laws. 
 
 What though our meads with purest bliss i 
 fraught ? 
 Few mortals know to feel it as they ought 
 For, not alone to sensual powers confined. 
 It asks the guiltless taste and spotless mind. 
 Hero let me not, with declamation vain 
 And counsel sad, afflict tho wretched train. 
 That, in tho lap of early luxury bred. 
 With wandering steps its prostrate ruins tread. 
 Too much, alas ! must bleeding France lament 
 The rava;;c dire that wild Reform has sent ! 
 Yet not to France alono my muse shall sing : 
 For OTory clime she prunes her daring wing. 
 
 Wouldst thou, sequestered 'midst thy rustic bowers, 
 In calm contentment pass the tranquil hours ? 
 Thy sylvan gods, that guard the sacred round. 
 With inconse pure must see their altars crowned ; 
 Not like yon heir corrupt, of simple sire. 
 Who, ere enjoyment comes, has lost desire ; 
 Whoso veering wishes, ever on tho range, 
 Shift, like his current coin, in endless change. 
 See him in town : scarce does the morning rise, 
 Tho town fatigues, and to tho fields he flics ; 
 There scarce arrived before his mansion gate. 
 Disgust and vapored Spleen his coming wait : 
 Scarce has his eyo the gay parterre surveyed, 
 The Chinese ti-inplc and the ^'r«-nh<iusc- sluide ; 
 
 Tired of tho frr„. . ^^ n. ■«-!.. Ml >M iM Hianil, 
 
 He hastes t" I' i : . : : > 
 
 Thus palled «iri : ' ■• "', 
 
 Ho blames thi; luuii, uwk.- Un c uiiti.i Ivu : 
 The fault is his alone, the ceaseless strife 
 Of meeting wishes sours tho stream of life. 
 
 .'Viniil-t thy llrl.l-, i\ hence simplest pleasures flow, 
 Scaiih iii.t ilii' lal.Hrfil pomp of empty show ; 
 Else wilt thim find, a prey to useless pride. 
 Thy mind depressed, thy heart dis.«ati9fied. 
 Too oft docs Man, with Nature still at war, 
 Tn proud conceit, her fairest prospects mar : 
 With pitying oyo I mark the wealthy clown, 
 That to tho country brings tho city down. 
 With splendid pnnip adnrn> hi- house and board, 
 And at the vil! . ^ ' ,|.iunMs l..r.l. 
 
 Withadde.i ■ : I vi. u. 
 
 Who rashly i ' fiii n. 
 
 Courts the ;,':i_\ -■ ■ ' ' •■■'> ■ i h.' |.iil.lir i-ye, 
 Squanders the n.ril hi- ri'h .h.iiiains .■supply ; 
 With mean attendance guards the great man's gate. 
 With eager look his passing glance to wait ; 
 Pleased if some placeman beckon him aside, 
 And fan with flattering hopes his empty pride. 
 
 rOWBB A.VD PLACl! IXIMICil TO PBACB. — CPTY CARES A.Vn 
 COCNTttV PCACB. 
 
 How soon, alas ! by sad experience brought, 
 Arrives disgust : disgust how dearly bought ! 
 Till, humbler grown, he seeks his fields again. 
 Attends bis vintage, or collects his grain : 
 
264 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Convinced at length, from state -intrigues aloof, 
 That Peace resides beneath the cottage roof. 
 
 Ye that in courts 'midst storms and tumult liv 
 Hope not the pleasures which the fields can giv€ 
 For you, alas ! the dwelling of a day, 
 To restless Care they lend a moment's stay ! 
 Let him, where cities rear their towering head, 
 Transplant the leafy grove, and flowery mead : 
 
 I blame him not ; but see, with proud delight, 
 Triumphant Nature vindicate her right ; 
 Aided by Art, her native power resume, 
 Live 'midst the great, and in the palace bloom. 
 Soon shall your heart, by dreadful anguish rent. 
 The fatal error of your choice lament ; 
 Look at your trees : no flattery they bestow ; 
 No worldly scorn nor arts ungrateful know ; 
 And when they promise, in their friendly shade, 
 A refuge sure, they keep the promise made. 
 
 Try then to leave the city's peopled waste, 
 And form, by soft degrees, a rural taste ; 
 Let town-bred projects to the country yield ; 
 Adorn your garden ; cultivate your field : 
 And though, while rustic toils your mind employ, 
 You miss, perhaps, the sage's purer joy, 
 Self-love will soon the vacant place supply. 
 And view its offspring with a parent's eye. 
 
 Ev'n in the fairest scenes, some pleasures still 
 The rural hour at intervals must fill : 
 Choose them with cautious care ; nor madly vain 
 Beneath thy roof receive the Thespian train : 
 Let the proud lord the gaudy throng admit, 
 "Whose marble dome such pompous shows befit. 
 But in the cottage-walls theatric noise 
 Usurps the peaceful scene of pastoral joys. 
 While mirth escapes before the splendid view, 
 How shall ourselves escape contagion too ? 
 Slow o'er the breast the soft infection creeps, 
 Till in our bed, perhaps, the actress sleeps. 
 
 , QCARRELS, 
 
 ' CHILDREN, INDUCED 
 
 Add, that the jealous clash of rival hate, 
 The spiteful whisper, and the warm debate, 
 Who princess, lover, king or clown, shall be, 
 Form, 'midst the troop itself, a comedy. 
 Oft, too, the mind, in empty pastime lost. 
 Neglects those duties which concern it most ; 
 See Mondor, Merope, with skilful art, 
 Of sire or mother top the mimic part, — 
 Think'st thou at home their infants know their care? 
 Vainly, alas ! you seek the parent there. 
 Thus then, arrived at Folljr's highest noon, 
 Does man turn mimic, and the sage buffoon ; 
 Thus Nero lived, amidst his motley court, 
 His people's terror and his people's sport. 
 
 Let Mole, Sainval, crowned with just renown, 
 With graceful skill enchant the listening town, 
 In scenes sublime, distinguished wouklst thou shine. 
 Tread Nature's stage, and that distinction 's thine. 
 What softened charms her various scenes supply 
 To those of finer taste and practised eye ! 
 The vulgar soul to no emotion yields : 
 Though Spring or Summer deck the smiling fields. 
 Senseless it sees the changing hours advance, 
 Owns no distinction, and is pleased by chance. 
 Not so the Sage : to varying nature true, 
 To-day some new-born object strikes his view ; 
 To-morrow comes ; its short-lived beauty flies. 
 And gives a fresh sensation as it dies. 
 
 IM OF VARIETY IN NATCRE. 
 
 Thus will the soul to present pleasure spring. 
 And grieve for that which struggles on the wing ; 
 In all is pleased ; or when the freshened morn 
 Gives life to flowers that hasten to be born ; 
 Or should the sun, now verging to the main, 
 Some languid traces of his fire retain. 
 So Homer leaves the dreadful shock of arms, 
 And loves to paint Aurora's rosy charms : 
 So Lorraine's magic touch, as daylight dies. 
 With yellow lustre gilds his evening skies. 
 
 Through all its change the rolling year pursue, 
 That, like the day, can boast its morning too ! 
 Yon insect light, now first from darkness freed, 
 That flies exulting o'er the blossomed mead, 
 Expands his wings, and on each opening flower, 
 Young, gay, and brilliant, tastes the vernal shower, — 
 Not more enjoys his entrance into day 
 Than does the sage, when Spring resumes its sway. 
 Farewell the gloomy screen's seclusive fold ! 
 Farewell to dusty books, and lecture cold ! 
 Nature's rich volume, to the mind displayed. 
 Invites the muse — and be her call obeyed ! 
 
 MENTAL EFFECTS OF SPRING AND ADTDMN CONTRASTED. 
 
 Sweet though the beauties of the new-born Spring, 
 The later seasons other pleasures bring : 
 The autumnal sun, that paler tints surround, 
 The dying foliage, and the woods embrowned, 
 Though bodings sad afflict the sorrowing sense, 
 A mellow softness to the soul dispense. 
 Spring lights up rapture in the gladdening eye, 
 While Autumn bids us breathe the pensive sigh. 
 The sunny day, that through the Winter slept, 
 Like some loved friend, whose death we vainly wept, 
 With unexpected presence cheers the sight, 
 And e'en in quitting calls us to delight : 
 Then 'tis a parting friend, that, ere ho goes, 
 Each lingering moment on his friend bestows ; 
 The moment given with ardor we retain, 
 While fond regret augments the pleasing pain. 
 
SUMMER — ATJG0ST. 
 
 Majestic Summer ! pardon that my laya 
 Till now forbore to oolcbrato thy praise. 
 Tlie forvid splendor of thy mid-day sun 
 With wonder strikes mo, though its Are I shun. 
 I love thoe most, whene'er thy potent rage 
 Or Autumn's breath or vernal gales assuage. 
 Though Nature pant beneath thy noontide power, 
 How sweet the freshness of thy evening hour ! 
 What time the night, throughout the gelid air, 
 Veils with her sable wings the solar glare ; 
 Then loves the eye, that shrunli before the day, 
 To drink refreshment from the moon's pale ray ; 
 When modest Cynthia, clad in silver light, 
 E.\pands her beauty on the brow of night. 
 Sheds her soft beams upon the mountain sido. 
 Peeps through tho wood, and quivers on the tide. 
 
 Midst Winter's storm, tho town I most approve ; 
 E'en there, though absent from tho scenes I love, 
 Thanks to the poet and the painter's skill ! 
 In fancy's eye, I can enjoy them still. 
 But if compelled to pass amidst tho fields 
 The AVintcr drear — e'en Winter pleasure yields : 
 The dazzling snow, tho hoary frost of morn, 
 And icy lustres that the rock adorn. 
 Wandering through air, if chance one solar beam. 
 Herald of Spring, athwart the scene should gleam. 
 That, like a graceful smile 'midst Sorrow's tears. 
 With transient light the mor^ning desert cheers, — 
 More than the brightest glow of summer skies, 
 Reviving Nature shall tho stranger prize. 
 If, o'er the barren waste, tho searching eye 
 One spot of verdure haply shall descry. 
 How shall tho heart the pleasing object greet. 
 That brings with sweet remembrance hopes as sweet; 
 And thus enjoy, amidst the rigid frost, 
 Tho promised Spring, the Autumn that it lost ! 
 
 THB WINTER FIRESIDE ; SPORTS ", GAHES J TUB GAMESTER. 
 
 But should the tempest lower ; in yonder room, 
 Where sparkling fagots chase tho dreary gloom. 
 With flambcau.x lighted, and a<lorned with taste, 
 I'll sit secure, and mock the northern blast ; 
 While various pastimes happily dcccivo 
 The lingering moments of llii' stunny eve. 
 Here, with tho dici-1' \ t! . niilniL' m his hands, 
 The practised gaiiit-ii, i ,i h ul ii ihl', >taDds ; 
 Or, o'er the gamnmii ii\r.l, \\m1i -iinli.ius face 
 Marks every chance, the full ami vacant space. 
 From side to side the shifting counter goes. 
 One pile decreasing as the other grows. 
 As fears or hope the panting bosom try. 
 Through varied fortune runs the harassed die : 
 Now from its prison thrown, with furious hound 
 It leaps along the board, that echoes round. 
 Still rolling on ; till one decisive stroke 
 Pronounce tho contest and the party broke. 
 
 pair, immorsea in thought pr<pfound. 
 Their peaceful squadrons range on checkered ground ; 
 Madly enamored of tho mimic war. 
 With warmth they combat, though from peril far ; 
 Through skilful rounds and intricate defiles 
 They lead their ivory troops or ebon files : 
 With equal force engage tho rival bands. 
 And conquest long in doubtful balance stands : 
 One fatal check assures the victor's claim. 
 Who loudly tells his adversary's shame : 
 He o'er tho chess-men bent, with saddened view. 
 With pain believes that what he sees is true. 
 
 Lotto, piquet, or whist's more solemn game, 
 Amuso the hoary sire and dowriod dame. 
 On yonder side, a young and giddy train 
 Chase tho white balls along tho verdant plain. 
 But now the table, scene of social charms. 
 Commands each play'r to lay aside his arms : 
 Scarce from the teeming flask the nectar 's poured. 
 Ere sparkling wit allumcs the festive board. 
 The supper done, to lecture we repair, 
 Peruse Kaeine, or dip into Voltaire : 
 
 Or else, alas ! some witling of tho place 
 Draws from his pocket, with important face, 
 A treacherous scroll, which, as its author reads. 
 Fatigue and viipur TMUnd thf oirolc sprcnds ; 
 
 One 
 
 Till ■ I :i' :ii i:. ■'■'■' I ''■ " ■ ■■■I ' '■' ""- '-Towd 
 
 SudJul, h- ;l.l,t:, Uil'l • l:ll> III- llM.-l- ill I. 
 
 Thus dues a laugh tho tedious lecturer bulk, 
 And to a tale or sonnet shifts the talk. 
 To-morrow comes, and, to tho appointment true, 
 Laughter and sport the self-same scenes renew. 
 Winter, no more the god of stern command. 
 Bids blithesome pleasure on his brow expand ; 
 A laughing sire, that, 'neath the load of years. 
 Loves to be pleased, and charms in hoary hairs. 
 
 ACTIVE PLEASURES OP SPRING. — HBALTU. 
 
 The rising beauties of the vernal sky 
 More lively scenes, more active joy, supply : 
 Who then can bear, in sedentary place, 
 The difforent colors of the cards to trace ? 
 Man sighs for pleasure, and in health it lies ; 
 That would he have, 't is found in exorcise. 
 Let Winter only, or tho city, know 
 Those gloomy sports from indolence that flow. 
 Where, pleased with torment, and amused by vice, 
 That Care may sleep, man wakens Avarice. 
 Gives not the peopled flood, the sylvan fight, 
 More harmless pleasure, more sincere delight? 
 Come, then, thou Muse ! to whoso domain belong 
 Tho wandering Dryads, ond the rustic throng, 
 i Conduct my footsteps to their green retreat, 
 I Where primal man first caught poctio heat. 
 
RURAL POETRY. DELILLE. 
 
 Beneath yon willows pale, whose foliage dank 
 Gives added freshness to the river's bank, 
 The fisher stands, and marks upon the tide 
 The trembling line along the current glide ; 
 With mute attention, and with secret joy, 
 He views the bending rod, and sinking buoy. 
 Which watery guest has braved the sudden fate, 
 Fixed to the barb that lurks beneath the bait ? 
 The springing trout, or carp bedecked with gold. 
 Or does the perch his purpled flns unfold ? 
 The silvered eel, that winds through many a maze, 
 Or pike voracious, on his kind that preys ? 
 
 FOWLING ; DEPRECATED. 
 
 The sportsman now the sylvan war prepares. 
 And takes the deathful tube, that lightning bears ; 
 Glanced from the level of his guiding eye. 
 Red comes the flash, and thunder follows nigh. 
 Who first is doomed to feel the leaden death ? 
 The wheeling plover, plaintive o'er the heath, 
 Or the sweet lark, that, soaring to the skies. 
 Pierced 'midst his amorous warble, drops and dies ? 
 
 Thou, Muse, that oft, with Pity's softest song, 
 Hast sued for mercy to the feathered throng. 
 Forbear t' ennoble, in thy tuneful lay, 
 The unmanly contest, and the inglorious fray ! 
 Why call not vengeance on the guilty head 
 Of yon grim wolf, the country's scourge and dread ? 
 So shall his death a noblor meed bestow. 
 And flocks and fields shall bless the grateful blow. 
 
 DEEB-miNTISG } THE CHASE BEGUN. 
 
 Hark to the horn ! at whose enlivening sound 
 The aspiring courser paws the trembling ground ; 
 With neck impatient draws the tightened rein, 
 Champs on the bit, and pants through every vein. 
 Scared by the martial noise, that echoes far, 
 The timid stag foresees the driving war. 
 Long time by vain irresolution pressed, 
 What anxious doubts invade his laboring breast ! 
 Whether to trust at once to rapid flight. 
 Or wait with hardy front the coming fight ? 
 But fear at length prevails ; on wings of wind 
 He leaves the forest and the hunt behind ; 
 While now, with rein relaxed, the fiery steed 
 Springs sudden forth, and gives himself to speed : 
 The ardent sportsman, bending o'er his mane. 
 Drives like a tempest o'er the beaten plain. 
 Breaks through the coppice, skims the furrowed 
 
 While clouds of dust arise, and blacken round. 
 
 Still flies the stag, and still the greedy pack 
 Adhere, sagacious, to the steaming track : 
 Where'er his footsteps mark tho sandy' ground, 
 There clings tho nostril of the instinctive hound. 
 How does he rue the treachery of his feet. 
 That guide the savage to his dark retreat ! 
 Beset, abandoned, and with death behind. 
 
 At length he calls his kindred herd to mind, 
 'Mongst whom, of old, in fortune's happier day, 
 The subject-forest owned his lordly sway. 
 There, if perchance, as, wandering o'er the grass, 
 The well-known troop should near their leader pass. 
 Full in the midst he goes, with humbler face. 
 To shield his life, or hide his sad disgrace. 
 Deluding thought ! the intrusive guest they hate. 
 And shun the contact of his altered fate. 
 Like some fall'n prince, by summer-flattery left, 
 He roams in exile, e'en of hope bereft ! 
 While fond remembrance brings upon his view 
 Those woods, where once the mingled charms he 
 Of love and glory ; when the rocks around [knew 
 Responsive rung with war or pleasure's sound ; 
 When, like some Eastern lord, the female race 
 Alternate wantoned in his proud embrace. 
 All, all is fled ! empire, and love, and fame. 
 Leave him a naked prey to death and shame. 
 What though some youthful stag, of dauntless face. 
 Spring to his aid and take his dangerous place. 
 The veteran dogs detect the useless snare. 
 And all the thunder of the chase is near. 
 Again he flies ; and with experienced wile. 
 And sudden bound, he breaks the track a while ; 
 Then, far sequestered from the beaten way. 
 On every side his fearful glances stray ; 
 Backward he moves, and, as the trace is crossed. 
 He vainly hopes the steaming vapor lost. 
 Till, as he listening stops, the opening throat 
 Of hounds and huntsmen swells the deathful note. 
 Aghast he looks, each ypily art is tried, 
 While fears unusual o'er his senses glide ; 
 Each noise afl'rights, upon the breeze's breath ; 
 Each tree becomes a foe — each foe is death ! 
 Fatigued he quits the land ; and, from the sleepy side, 
 Plunges for refuge in the river's tide : 
 But fate awaits him there : the shrill-mouthed pack. 
 With glowing eyes, are ardent at his back ; 
 Panting with fury, and with thirst inflamed. 
 With deafening cries the dire repast is claimed ! 
 Not e'en the river can their thirst assuage. 
 For blood, and blood alone, impels their rage ! 
 
 Exhausted now, no friendly shelter near. 
 His weakness turns to fury and despair. 
 Too late, alas ! his slackened nerves lament 
 In useless wiles their hardy vigor spent. 
 Why did he not attend to Valor's call. 
 And by his deeds give honor to his fall ? 
 At bay he stands : impelled by generous fire. 
 The valiant only feel his quickened ire ; [cries. 
 
 Fierce 'gainst the host he springs, whose dreadful 
 Mingled with pain, in wild confusion rise. 
 ■\Vhat now avails hi? ehp=t ..f nniiile "how. 
 Or stately honors that ipLih lii- ii-.v ; 
 His taper legs with mai. IiL-- .-|.. . I . inlnwed, 
 Beneath whose tread the li. iLa^. .-.an-fly bowed? 
 Tottering he falls ; and while his eyeballs reel. 
 Big drops distil that e'en his murderers feel ! 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 THE MERS nmiTKB ASD SPOBTSMAS. 
 
 With moderate heat pursue the sylvan game ; 
 Unlike the fuol, that, evorywhcro the same, 
 TalliS of his dogs, his horses, and the chase. 
 And deems his mansion stained with diro disgrace, 
 
 Unless of liftv stiiu's tlie branching horn. 
 In state Iriumplinii, iK.' |ii"Uil gates adorn ; 
 Who todi.iu- I. II- iIm . sil"itaofmany aday, 
 And, lilio thr -i;il;, ln> au.liinco keeps at bay ! 
 Wouldst thou return boneatli thy peaceful dome? 
 More silent joys should decorate thy home. 
 
 THE FISK ARTS ASD UTEBATCRE. — THE AUTDOB. 
 
 Join to the beauties of the varied field 
 Those softer charms the Arts alone can yield. 
 Hail ! sister Arts, that every circle grace ! 
 What pleasure 's pure where you have not a place ? 
 To you the Sage's sweetest hours are duo, 
 With you his eyelids close, and wako for you : 
 Oft, too, when all beside is veiled in night. 
 The lamp's inspiring rays his vigils light. 
 His boast and honor, more than treasure dear, 
 Good fortune yo adorn, and adverse cheer ; 
 His youth's delight, hope of his latter day, 
 His country-guests, and friends upon the way ! 
 With you e'en exile's self a refuge grows, 
 Cro^vned with mild study, virtue, and repose. 
 Thus Tully once, when to the country driven. 
 Forgot the wounds ungrateful Rome had given ! 
 Thus, emulating him, 0'Aguesseau wooed 
 In Fresnc's green bowers the peace of solitude ! 
 Woe to tho unfeeling souls, and flinty hearts. 
 In fortune's sunshine that neglect the Arts ! 
 They, in their turn, when dire misfortunes press. 
 Leave them, without resource, to vile distress. 
 But with their friends one common cause they make. 
 Their rustic joys or prison's gloom partake ; 
 Grateful with them in tedious exile roam. 
 Console their pains or welcome them to home. 
 
 SOUTCDE ; GRATEFUL IS TOCTn. 
 
 Nor summer day, nor books, nor verdant bower. 
 Suffice me now to fill tho vacant hour, 
 Unless some friend my solitude should join. 
 Give me his pleasures, and partake of mine. 
 Days of my youth ! when with a poet's fire 
 I loved the Country in her worst attire. 
 In some lone desert sought a resting-place. 
 And for my friends, the woods and feathered race ! 
 Enthusiast still ! my soul rejoiced to hear 
 Full in the forest blow the tempest drear, 
 Or midst the whirlwind mark tho sturdy oak 
 Bend to the blast, or rising from the stroke. 
 E'en when the hills their wintry horrors wore, 
 I climbed the steep, to list' tho torrent's roar ! . . . . 
 
 COMPASIOX; 
 
 'T is past : now flows my blood with laggard pace. 
 And sensual pleasures to the soul give place. 
 The sweetest spot that fond retirement knows, 
 K left to me alone, a desert grows. 
 
 Whatever joys the sylvan scenes prepare. 
 
 Some friend be near that may that pleasure share. 
 
 Shut, then, the door upon tho city guest, 
 That, with thy game, destroys thy time and rest ; 
 But for thy friend, in long affection tried. 
 Adorn tho room with hospitable pride ; 
 Whether some neighbor, kinsman, or his son. 
 Review those scenes where first their life begun. 
 Perhaps some sire, in life's declining year. 
 Those woods revisits, to his memory dear. 
 In infant days that planted by his hand 
 Now wave aloft and decorate the land. 
 For him the groves a smiling aspect wear. 
 And fields and flowers his transport seem to share ! 
 Or now arrives your childhood's earliest friend, 
 Pleased 'midst your harmless scones his soul t' un- 
 ^Vhe^e each discovers, as around he looks, [bend, 
 His usual furniture, and favorite books. 
 Some painter next is there, whose magic touch 
 Each landscape doubles that you prize so much, 
 Or else delights with skilful hand to traco 
 The well-known features of some much-loved face. 
 While dearest objects thus your dwelling fill, 
 Your friends, though absent, give enjoyment still. 
 
 THE FLOWER-PLASTED CRAVE.— THE SWISS CrSTOM. 
 
 Nor to the living be the spot confined. 
 But let the dead with thee a refuge find. 
 Near yonder stream, where bending willows wave, 
 Of some lost friend prepare the peaceful grave. 
 There shall his dust more tranquil slumbers know 
 Than 'midst the marble's monumental show. 
 Take thou the good Helvetian for thy guide, 
 That near some Rrovc, or plaintive rivulet's side. 
 
 His friend int.-.-, I ■-. Hi- -:.'i-l -i -"nd 
 
 Bids arbors n- ,.i, i : . : v i i ml. 
 Tho cherish.il i i ! . : ■ i"il, 
 
 And with it.^ .'n!! ,.i. •!,- I.i- :,-i " i -i "liile. 
 
 In fancy breathing, frum the friigr:int ri)sc, 
 The soul of him o'er whom tho flow'ret blows. 
 
 Why shouldst thou not a safe asylum yield 
 To those whose song has fertilijcd the field? 
 A peaceful refuge shall not Berghcm gain'? 
 A bust the Mantuan or Sicilian swain ? 
 For mc, alas ! unworthy yet to claim 
 A place near Berghem or near Virgil's name. 
 If chanco some generous friend should deign to p 
 A modest homage to my sylvan lay. 
 Let not the Poet of the Fields be found 
 
 I Amidst the court or city's busy round. 
 Ye vales and uplands, cherished by my song, 
 
 I Grant that to you the monument belong ! 
 While o'er its head tho branching poplars wavo, 
 
 ' A murmuring etreamlct should its basis lave. 
 
RURAL POETRY.- 
 
 
 COMPLIMENT TO T 
 
 My VOWS are heard : on ancient Vistula's side, 
 Where roamed the Sarmat onco, in savage pride, 
 Of roj'al stem, a fair and warlike race, 
 That in retirement give the country grace. 
 Amidst their bowers have taught my muse to hope 
 A tribute with Saint Lambert, Thomson, Pope. 
 How shall I dare the proud distinction boast ? 
 'Midst names so glorious will not mine be lost? 
 Is there, perchance, some unfrequented spot, 
 Some distant nook, unnoticed or forgot, 
 !Far, far from Gesner, or the Mautuan bard? 
 Hosts of the scene, for me the asylum guard. 
 Glad shall I see you, 'midst the laughing vales, 
 Those lessons practise which my muse details. 
 And, while dire party's troubled waves ye break, 
 Enrich the hamlet, and the desert deck ; 
 Happy, should Echo from her green retreat 
 My name, my homage, and my lays, repeat. 
 
 DNION OF THE HIGHER AND LOWER CLASSES BY MUTUAL 
 
 In town or country one great truth be known : 
 That pleasure's best, which is not all our own. 
 Wretched or happy, man from man receives, 
 And lives by halves, if for himself he lives. 
 Ye that in verdant fields no pleasure view, 
 Learn to do good, and pleasure will ensue. 
 Amidst the city, and its thronging host. 
 Riches and poverty alike are lost ; 
 But where industrious Want and slothful Pride, 
 The castle and the cot, are side by side, 
 A contrast sad they to the mind present, 
 And 'gainst the wealthy rouse the indigent. 
 Then should thy bounty cover envy's spite, 
 Give life its balance, and misfortune right : 
 Correct the seasons, and allow the poor 
 That field to glean his hands have furrowed o'er ; 
 Fill by its gifts the long, though useful, space, 
 That into different ranks divides our race. 
 
 Where canst thou else more strong example find, 
 Than in the fields, to rouse the generous mind ? 
 There, all around by mutual kindness live ; 
 The beasts that graze the field its fatness give. 
 Yon tree, that moisture from the soil receives, 
 Gives to the mother earth its dying leaves ; 
 The mountains pour the torrent o'er the lands, 
 That cools the air ; the air in dew expands. 
 All gives and takes, all serves, and all enjoys ! 
 Man's heart alone the harmony destroys ! 
 
 Observe yon heir, that rues the treacherous die, 
 Run o'er his forests with exacting eye ; 
 Without a tear his rich domains betray, 
 And, like a burthen, cast his gold away. 
 Thy gold a burthen ? — Impudence of wealth ! 
 Why, then, does Famine sap yon infant's health ? 
 
 Why, then, yon widowed dame, with pittance scant ? 
 Yon dowerless maid, or sire that dies for want? 
 
 WEALTH MADE A BLESSING. — THE WISE EMPLOYER. 
 
 ! had it pleased \he Tvill of bounteous Heaven 
 To me some subject^hamlet to have given, 
 Full happy then, and worthy to be so. 
 Around my dome should plants and flow'rets grow ; 
 The richest fruits should deck the teeming soil, 
 But most should human faces round me smile. 
 Never should Famine's pale and haggard mien 
 Send dismal gloom athwart the happy scene. 
 But man should toil : the ploughshare and the spade, 
 And all the implements of rustic trade, 
 With sure reward should wait the industrious hand, 
 And labor banish misery from the land. 
 
 Nor that suffice : let sickness, age, and pain, 
 With thee a sure and ready succor gain : 
 Select the smallest of thy chambers vast. 
 Adorned with order, neat and decent taste ; 
 Let it, with various med'cines amply stored, 
 To want diseased a constant aid afford. 
 Sloth, that from town-fatigue his visit pays, 
 Your carpet, mirrors, and saloon, may praise ; 
 But this retreat, to goodness set aparC^ 
 Is sacred only to the feeling heart. 
 
 CHILDREN TACGHT CHARITY. 
 
 Oft with thy bounties, too, thy presence show, 
 And thus enhance the blessings you bestow ; 
 And let thy children there, with timid air, 
 To timid want the secret offering bear : 
 But most thy daughter, wearing on her face 
 The first of beauties, Virtue's modest grace, 
 Should to the wretched like an angel shine, 
 And pay her first-fruit vows at Bounty's shrine. 
 Thy offspring thus, with whom thy features grow, 
 Thy mind and manners shall in image show : 
 Their richest portion your example gives ; 
 And, reared by you, their infant virtue lives. 
 Ye worldly men, disgust that dearly buy, 
 These pleasures contemplate with jealous eye. 
 
 The lowliest clown, beneath the cottage straw. 
 By Fancy's aid, to town and state gives law. 
 Fed by no error, or illusive pride, 
 I ne'er aspire for nations to decide : 
 Content with happiness in humble state, 
 Let me the peaceful village regulate ; 
 And, while I feel the fancied empire mine, 
 Not to myself alone the task confine : 
 But every power that forms the scant domain 
 With equal efforts shall my sway maintain. 
 Ye, for whose help I write the village-law. 
 Instead of rules a portrait let me draw. 
 
 Seest thou you parsonage-house, of modest site ? 
 'here lives the man of God : in holy rite 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 He bids the village prayers to heaven arise, 
 And opens all the trciisuro of the skies ; 
 Ho comforts want, Iwill.iw? Ilir iiiiirrinse '""'i 
 And over fruiti uii.l ll-u.i- l,i. M, -in-s spread ; 
 
 He teaches good, i. o nr. m,. tlio womb, 
 
 Guides him throu^'li lilV'. ainl i..ll..ws to the tomb. 
 
 Forbear to choose, for this sublimer post. 
 The man in vile intrigue and avarice lost, 
 Who, elsewhere stern, indulgent to himself. 
 Deserts a humble cure for abject pelf ; 
 Whose manners base Religion's chair defile. 
 Who to the day adapts his courtly style. 
 
 THE FilTEFCL PiSTOR. 
 
 The faithful pastor, to his parish dear, 
 Is like yon elm, that many a rolling year, 
 Beneath its shade's hereditary reign. 
 Has heard the gambols of the rustic train ; 
 Whose branches green, that over time prevail. 
 Have seen the children rise, the father fail : 
 If counsel sage or bounty he dispense. 
 He 's to his flock another providence. 
 What secret want escapes his searching aid? 
 God only knows the happy he has made. 
 In those retreats where want, disease, and pain. 
 Dismay, and death, their dreadful sway maintain. 
 Docs he appear? lo ! Terror takes his flight, 
 And Death and Horror lose the power to fright. 
 Esteemed by wealth, and by the wretched blest. 
 He hinders guilt by aiding the distrest ; 
 And rivals oft, with fiercest hate that bum. 
 Meet at his table, and in peace return. 
 
 WBALTH SHOULD CHRRISn RBLIGIOK. — THE VILLAGE PASTOR. 
 
 Respect his toils ; and let your generous care 
 His modest house, devoid of pomp, prepare. 
 Within, by virtue's richest treasure graced ; 
 Without, adorned with neat and simplest taste. 
 Partake with him the produce of thy grounds ; 
 And be his altar with thy offerings crowned. 
 In holy league for mutual good combined. 
 With his instructions be thy actions joined. 
 Not Rome, triumphant o'er the world that rose, 
 A nobler scene could to the sight disclose. 
 Than does the village, by its reverend guide 
 And virtuous sage relieved and edified ! 
 The sage's bounty and the pastor's prayer 
 Drive from the cottage misery and despair. 
 
 Resides there not a second power here, 
 "Whose looks the rustic long has learned to fear? 
 Descend, my muse, nor yet debate thy strain. 
 And paint the pedant of the village train. 
 Nor that suffice, but let thy prudent lay 
 Attach due honor to his useful sway. 
 He comes at length in consequential state. 
 And self-importance marks his solemn gait. 
 Read, write, and count, 't is certain ho can do ; 
 
 Instruct at school, and sing at ehnpol too ; 
 Foresee the changing moon and tempest dread. 
 And e'en in Latin once some progress made : 
 In learned disputes still firm and valiant found. 
 Though vanquished, still ho acorns to quit the ground ; 
 Whilst, wisely used to gather time and strength. 
 His crabbed words prolong their laggard length. 
 The rustics gaze around, and scarce suppose 
 That one poor brain could carry all ho knows. 
 But in his school, to each neglect severe. 
 So much to him is learning's progress dear, 
 Comes he ? upon his smooth or rutlied brow 
 His infant tribe their destiny may know. 
 He nods, they part ; again, and they assemble : 
 Smile, if he laughs ; and if he frowns, they tremble. 
 He soothes or menaces, as best befits. 
 And now chastises, or he now acquits. 
 E'en when away, his wary subjects fear. 
 Lest the unseen bird should whisper in his ear 
 Who laughs or talks, or slumbers o'er his book. 
 Or from what hand the ball his visage struck. 
 
 Nor distant far the birch is seen to rise — 
 The birch, that heeds not their imploring cries. 
 If chance the breeze its boughs should lightly shake. 
 With pale affright tho puny urchins quake. 
 Thus, gentle Chanonat, beside thy bed, [dread ; — 
 I 've touched that tree, my childhood's friend and 
 That willow-tree, whose tributary spray 
 Armed my stern pedant with his sceptred sway. 
 
 Such is the master of the village-school : 
 Be it thy eare to dignify his rule. 
 The wise man learns each rank to appreciate ; 
 But fools alone despise the humbler state. 
 In spite of pride, in office, great or low, 
 Be modest one, and one importance know. 
 Be by himself his post an honor deemed : 
 He must esteem himself to be esteemed. 
 
 CH HAS niS CHARACTKniSTICS ; CATO. 
 
 What pleasing sights does yonder group create ! 
 Their infant sports, their contest, and debate. 
 Man loves to see, as ripened wisdom grows. 
 Its fruits enrich the soil from whence it rose. 
 But who can view, nor secret pleasure know. 
 Life yet in bud, and manhood on the blow? 
 'T is then that man 's himself : no artful guise 
 Spreads o'er his young desire its treacherous dyes. 
 One, smarting still from chastisement severe, 
 Docile and mild, forgets the short-lived tear j 
 Stung by the affront, a smile his anger charms. 
 And to returning love his bosom warms. 
 A second, firm alike in hate or love. 
 No prayers appease, and no caresses move : 
 Silent he stands, with stern and downcast eyes. 
 And every proffered gift with scorn denies. 
 E'en so in Cato's infant years we find 
 The haughty firmness of his manly mind. 
 
270 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Amidst their pastimes, let tliine eye explore 
 The sports where instinct first begins to soar ; 
 Where various talents in assemblage found, 
 One turns the historian of the country round. 
 A second Euclid on the dusty soil 
 Draws squares and circles, which the winds despoil ; 
 With charcoal pencil here a Rubens stands ; 
 Or infant Chevert ranks his warrior bands : 
 On yonder side, with meditating air, 
 A rival Boileau, Pascal, or Moliere. 
 Ho now content through wheeling rounds to urge 
 The spinning box, that groans beneath the scourge, 
 In future day, perhaps, with critic zeal, 
 Shall bid our erring bards his lashes feel ! 
 Another, too, with Mole, Preville's skill, 
 Of fop or clown the mimic part may fill. 
 A Pope or Locke but wait the fostering hand 
 Of some kind friend, their genius to expand : — 
 As yonder flower, expecting to be born. 
 The solar ray, or dewy tear of morn. 
 He now delights, nor tliinks of future fame, 
 To see the pebble, which his fingers aim. 
 Skim on the wave, by turns descend and rise ; 
 Or mark his kite, that flutters near the skies. 
 
 The germ of genius let your care pursue, 
 Should some good chance present it to your view. 
 Reared and protected by your kindly aid. 
 The rustic plant shall spread its rising shade ; 
 On you at length its choicest fruits bestow : 
 Sweeter to him that made the sapling grow. 
 
 GHOST-STORIES PERNICIOUS TO CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Nor prejudice, nor superstitious dread. 
 Amongst the children of thy care should spread. 
 Nor distant far the time, when all around 
 With midnight sprites each village did abound : 
 Each castle near its ghost or goblin knew. 
 And every hamlet had its sorcerer too ; 
 When babbling age, with long and dreary tale. 
 Broke the soft quiet of her nursling pale : 
 But most, when near the nightly taper's gloom 
 The hour of evening bade the village come, — 
 Some story sad, of midnight ghosts that spoke, 
 Still close and closer drew the frightened folk. 
 Let none these fictions to thy charge rehearse, 
 Offspring of Prejudice, and Error's nurse : 
 But rather tell them how the reaper's care 
 Leaves for the gleaner's want the scattered ear ; 
 Of pious duties, and the secret hand 
 That feeds the orphan, blasts the murderous band. 
 
 While thus thy bounty bids the village live, 
 Doctrine to youth, to age assistance give ; 
 Nor that be all ; but let some harmless joy 
 The vacant hour on festivals employ. 
 Scarce can the muse believe that barbarous pride 
 
 Would have these comforts to the poor denied ; 
 
 These days, say they, with barren leisure joined, 
 
 By useless pleasure are from toil purloined. 
 
 Thus would their kindness to the poor dispense 
 
 Excess of labor for their recompense ! 
 
 Why shouldst thou grieve that the laborious hind 
 
 On solemn days some relaxation find ? 
 
 Why damp his music, or the rustic lay. 
 
 Or grudge the village-maid her neat array ? 
 
 Lot them, at least, in recompense for pain, 
 
 Some share of life and happiness obtain. 
 
 Their simple mirth, encouraged still by thee. 
 Even now in Fancy's perspective I see. 
 Grant me, some power, a share of Teniers' skill, 
 To paint the pleasures which the circle fill ! 
 
 Two veterans here relate with proud delight 
 Their past amours, or actions in the fight ; 
 One tells his rank, or in what bloody fray 
 Himself and Saxe alone had gained the day ! 
 
 SWINGING. 
 
 Whilst Egle near, suspended in the air. 
 Looks from the swinging cord with dizzy fear : 
 The frolic zephyr through her garment blows. 
 That modesty is anxious to compose. 
 
 BALL-PLAT. 
 
 On yonder circle green, the reeling bowl 
 Pursues its rival to the distant go.al ! 
 The skilful umpire, kneeling o'er the place. 
 Measures the distance, and decides the space. 
 There, too, the elastic racquet's aid denied. 
 The bandied ball is tost from side to side. 
 Two active rivals here contend for fame ; 
 They start ; a shout proclaims the victor's nami 
 
 On yonder side, launched on with sudden force. 
 The rolling ball attacks in rapid course 
 The wooden cones, arranged along the plain. 
 That falling oft as often rise again. 
 Sometknes, with eye that marks each interval. 
 The wary player meditates their fall : 
 Long time he threatens ere the ball is thrown ; 
 At length determines, and the nine are down. 
 
 Here skilful archers draw the bending yew. 
 And for their mark the trembling pigeon view. 
 The first but glances on the fluttering wing ; 
 A second takes his aim, and cuts the string ; 
 But vain the pigeon's flight ; with rapid eye 
 A third o'ertakes him soaring to the sky ; [boat. 
 Wheeling through air, his blood-stained pinions 
 And bring the arrow to the victor's feet. 
 
 THE RUSTIC DANCE. 
 
 Near yonder church, beneath the elm-tree's shade. 
 The village youth their meeting-place have made : 
 
SUMMER — AUaUST. 
 
 271 
 
 The fiddlo sounds ; the rustic train advance 
 Through all the measures of the mazy dance, 
 Whilst many a heart betrays the furtive heave, 
 And frolic Love preludes to Hymen grave ; 
 Each tries to show his vigor or his gra«e, 
 And sparkling pleasure lights up every face. 
 Their sports are harmless, and their joys they pay. 
 Since e'en repose drives idleness away. 
 
 PCBLIC DESEPACT0B3. 
 
 Ye, by whose gift these short enjoyments live, 
 Te taste the rapture that your bounties give : 
 Blest, ye unite upon the happy spot 
 The rich and poor, the castle and the cot ; 
 New pleasures ye create, and comfort pain ; 
 Of social life ye nearer draw the chain ; 
 And, pleased with all, of no regret afraid, [made. 
 With God pronounce, That 's good which I have 
 
 'IrRil — the author. Culture, wonders of. Manners va- 
 rious. AuecUote. Modish culture ridiculous. Imitation 
 of foreign manners servile. Exotics to be encouraged. 
 Beasts that degenerate in strange climates. Country 
 scenes, pleasures of. Author's wishes disappointed. 
 Kocks blown up. Artful soils. Oemenos, description of. 
 Waters, benefits arising flrom. Lima, description of. 
 Languedoc, canal of. Achelous, allegory of. Holland, la- 
 bors of. Ji^geria : episode. 
 
 DLESSISGS or KCBAI. 1 
 
 - CmL WAB. — VIRGIL'S BTOAL 
 rs BBSTOKED. 
 
 Thrice blest the man from public storms aloof, 
 That loves tho shelter of his cottage-roof ; 
 In sweet retirement shuns tho general view, 
 Improves his garden, arts, and virtue too. 
 Thus, when the stern Triumvir's blood-stainod hand 
 Spread dreadful ruin o'er the Roman land. 
 The Mantuan bard, while party billows rolled. 
 His sylvan loves to ravished Echo told. 
 Who then had dared with war's tumultuous sound 
 Tho peaceful dwelling of his muse surround 7 
 When Rome, at length respiring from her toils, 
 Beneath a milder reign forgot her broils. 
 The world's great master saw him, at his feet, 
 His field paternal from his gift entreat ; 
 Soon, soon again from courtly scones removed, 
 By Pan and every rural god beloved. 
 Near the bright lake with silver swans o'erspread. 
 Ho trod the verdure of the Mantuan mead. 
 Here 'midst tho peaceful groves and wandering herd 
 Soft o'er the reed his tuneful voice was heard. 
 While with the music of his dulcet song 
 To rural bliss he drew tho mind along. 
 
 THE APTHOR'S RinUL CHOICE. 
 
 Like him, alas ! of birthright land bereaved, 
 I leave to God the little I received ; 
 Like him, to groves from civil discord flown, 
 I shun the tumult of the frantic town. 
 Pleased if my Muse, that loves the sylvan strain. 
 Instruct the labor of th' industrious swain. 
 
 Yo then, who fain, profaning his retreat. 
 Would change tho poet to the man of state, 
 Forbear tho progress of your ill-timed views. 
 Nor break tho leisure of my tranciuil Muse. 
 Rather, like Ca;sar to tho Mantuan bard. 
 With duo respect his follower reward. 
 Poor and unknown, of freedom let me dream, 
 Lulled by the sounding lyre or bubbling stream. 
 
 POETRY ANO FARMING. — TRirMPHS Of AGRlCCLTrRlL 
 
 No more my Muse, confined to Virgil's trace, 
 Gives Roman lessons to the Gallic race, 
 But, boldly daring in herself confide. 
 Her footstep ventures on a way untried. 
 In native strains her much-loved art to sing. 
 And deck the ploughshare with the flowers of Spring. 
 No more in hackneyed numbers shall bo found 
 Tho vulgar methods to enrich tho ground ; 
 No more I tell beneath what prosperous sign 
 To plant the sapling, or to wed tho vine ; 
 Where olives thrive, or in what happy soil 
 Ceres may flourish, or Pomona smile. 
 
 WONOEBS OF CCLTIVATIOS. 
 
 Since countless wonders Culture now displays, 
 I leave her labors, and those wonders praise ; 
 Her efforts vast, the bounty of her hand. 
 Her potent causes, and effects as grand ; 
 No more the simple power our fathers knew 
 She deigns each ancient maxim to pursue ; 
 Like some enchantre!^.s, with her magic wand. 
 In treasures new >\>v link-- tlir MiiiliiiL' himl ; 
 Subdues the ru.-k, .md • I'iiIm- iIh' iih 
 Fattens the suil, mii'I i;nr- it> uil-priiii; ;;r;ief ; 
 Frees from their chain the l<)Ilg-iInIlri^uned tides. 
 And streams astonished to each other guides : 
 Her magic power, triumphant over times. 
 Together blends or seasons, worlds, or climes. 
 
 
 niSTOBV . 
 
 When primal man first tilled tho fruitless soil. 
 No plans were known to fertilize his toil : 
 Without distinction, or on mount or plain. 
 His careless hand dispersed tho useful grain : 
 Till taught at length, by Time's instructing aid, 
 Each trco its country knew ; each soil its seed. 
 Go further, thou, and dare, with bolder view 
 Tho ground correcting. Nature's self subdue. 
 
 UANCBISO. — LIHISO. — MAELISO, ETC. 
 
 Du Hamel's rival, to thyself assure 
 Tho fruitful virtues of tho rich manure.. 
 A speedy nurture do thy fields demand ? 
 The lime and marl are ready to thy hand : 
 Or ashes now, or what thy dove-house yields. 
 Let cautious Prudence strew along thy fields ; 
 Tho fertile litter of thy cattle's range 
 From ordure vile to richest juice shall change. 
 
 jnXISO OP SOILS.— Cn-TCRE COINS OOLn. 
 
 Here wouldst thou feed the hunger of thy lam 
 Blend the fat clay amidst the cutting sand j 
 
272 
 
 RURAL POETRY.- 
 
 Or that the plough the stubborn loom may bend, 
 The sand alternate should its succor lend. 
 Ye fools, that brooding o'er a fancied prize, 
 Expect from ehymic toil that gold will rise, 
 Drive such chimeras from your empty mind ; 
 In culture's furrow ye must treasure find. 
 The earth thy crucible, Sol's potent heat 
 Shall warm thy furnace, and thy toils complete ; 
 AVithin the bosom of the teeming ground 
 The real gold of alchemy is found. 
 
 THE SCCCKSSFDL FAEMER. — THE WITCHCRAFT OP SPADE ASI 
 
 A toilsome swain, that taught the fattened field, 
 With grateful kindness, double crops to yield. 
 Skilled in the fruitful art of Albion's isle, 
 Fallowed, concocted, and composed the soil : 
 New meadows rose beneath his careful hand. 
 And richest sainfoin blossomed o'er his land ; 
 His new-born flow'rets bloomed with double crown, 
 And Autumn's season blushed with fruits unknown. 
 No rest he knew, till, by his labor tired, 
 Th' exhausted soil some interval required. 
 An envious neighbor marked his rising store. 
 Charged him with witdi. 1:111, ,,,.1 (.. iu.Ununt bore. 
 He there displays, insti :i.i : . , ,:,ims 
 
 His rakes, his harrow, am: l.i. 1 ,,.,i .,; 1,,. ■. 
 ' Behold ! ' cries he, • tbo only mis 1 use ! ' 
 He spoke, and well-deserved applause ensues. 
 His potent skill, that late the earth subdued. 
 Alike triumphant over envy stood. 
 
 PURSUE APPROVED METHODS IN FARMING ROZIER. 
 
 Follow his secret ; let thy skilful hand. 
 Correcting Nature, change th' improving land. 
 That rural wealth with added store may shine. 
 To ancient use thy own instructions join ; 
 Nor lured by novelty or servile mode. 
 On useless essays be thy time bestowed. 
 Let the proud upstart rail with idle breath 
 Against the rules our forefathers bequeath ; 
 To him the .system leave, by Rozier planned. 
 Fertile on paper, in the closet grand : 
 To modish swains their new-found arts allow. 
 Their neat utensils, and their tasty plough. 
 Their farm in miniature, and secrets vain 
 The Mercury ' loves, and Ceres must disdain ; 
 Leaving to them their self-created rules. 
 Respect the practice of our ancient schools. 
 
 riNGUISH BETWEEN : 
 
 HPEOVEMENTS. 
 
 Yet shun extremes, nor let thy servile care 
 Too close a copy of our fathers bear ; 
 Give new resources to the rustic art. 
 Try other schemes, and other views impart. 
 AVho knows what meed thy labor may await, 
 What fruits unknown thy conquests may create ! 
 Of old, the rose on lowly bramble sprung. 
 While high in air the ruddy apple hung ! 
 Now, strange reverse ! the rose-tree climbs the skiei 
 While scarce from earth our apple-trees arise ! 
 1 A French newspaper so called. 
 
 What various flowers, in richest colors gay, 
 With double crown their proud festoons display. 
 More wouldst thou do ? Sent from their distant 
 Give foreign conaorta to thy native race : [place, 
 
 PATRIOTISM SHOULD VALUE NATIVE PRODUCTS AND FASHIONS. 
 
 But shun the man, whose proud disgust and scorn 
 Detest those treasures which at home are born ; 
 Who feels no joy, though, spreading to the air, 
 His pompous trees their verdant branches rear, 
 Unless from Afric's soil their rise they boast. 
 From India's deserts or Columbia's coast. 
 When Paris late, with wishes still misplaced, 
 Of rival London caught the reigning taste. 
 Our town and court, our houses and the scene. 
 Each paid its tribute to the humor mean ; 
 Inventors once to clumsy copies sunk, 
 Our clubs with punch and politics were drunk ; 
 Beneath the awkward jockey horses groaned. 
 And each his whiskey, tea, and vapors owned ; 
 While proud Versailles the public rage partook, 
 Our banished arts their native rights forsook. 
 
 Between our garden and the English park, 
 I'm still suspended when their scenes I mark : 
 Not that my muse the latter would suppress ; 
 She loves its practice, but proscribes excess. 
 Struck with the beauty of our Gallic trees, 
 Spite of their antique forms, that still can please, 
 The skilful farmer from his verdant woods 
 Nor oak or beeches or the elm excludes. 
 But if some foreign tree, of noble size. 
 With boughs majestic should adorn the skies. 
 Our forest natives, with attention meet 
 And hospitable care, the stranger greet ; [make, 
 Pleased 'mongst themselves his future dwelling 
 Not for his scarceness, but his beauty's sake ; 
 If haply profit too should join with grace. 
 To civic honors they admit his race. 
 From Alpine heights the cytisus is seen ; 
 Thus o'er our streams do eastern willows lean 
 In pensive guise ; whose grief-inspiring shade 
 Love has to Melancholy sacred made : 
 The stately poplars o'er our fields that grow 
 Admit their brethren from the distant Po ; 
 No more the cedar to the turban bends ; 
 For us the imperial tree from Lebanon descends. 
 
 PLANTING OF FOREST TREES. — BACH TREE RECALLS ITS 
 
 Cheered by the prospect of your vassal trees. 
 How shall your walks amidst the country please ! 
 Through them thy thought, that wanders from its 
 To distant climates shall in safety roam. [home. 
 Yon verdant pines, that midst the Winter smile. 
 Offspring of Scotia or Virginia's soil, 
 The world's extremes within their branches joined. 
 To either hemisphere convey thy mind : 
 The thuyau ' gives you China's fruitful lands. 
 And where Judaia's ' tree its bloom expands 
 
 1 Like our arbor-vitas. 2 The Judas-tree. 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 273 
 
 Of purplo huo, to Fancy's eye it shows 
 Tlio fertile banlis where hnllowcd Jordan flows. 
 Wliile daily thus you soil and climate change, 
 O'er rude or polished scenes alike you range ; 
 Each plant you see presents a country new, 
 And every thought affords a voyage too. 
 
 KDCOATIOS OF TBBBS ASD OF CniLDRES C0MP4RBD. 
 
 Thrico blest the man, whom subject woods sur- 
 
 Or when with foreign trees ho decks his ground, 
 Or when his skill or industry improves 
 The native beauty of his country groves. 
 Each tree a child, your aid their weakness rears, 
 Directs their youth, and tends their drooping years: 
 Their different bents you mark with studious eye ; 
 Their laws you give ; their manners you supply : 
 Correcting thus their tiow'rets, fruits, and leaves. 
 Your potent hand Creation's work achieves. 
 
 
 I OF ANIMALS. 
 
 If equal care thy bestial troop should find. 
 New strength and beauty shall adorn their kind. 
 Attend their offspring, and their dams select ; 
 The marks of breed encourage or reject ; 
 To those who bless thee with their native stores. 
 Adjoin a different race from different shores. 
 But to the spot adapt thy careful toil ; 
 Nor force the stranger to desert his soil. 
 That sullen still, as if to mock thy pain. 
 Denies to couple with his kindred train ; 
 Or else, descending from his primal race. 
 Forgets the Uncage which he ought to trace. 
 Yon Indian fowl, whose beauties, once so gay. 
 But ill the horrors of his cage repay, 
 Yields to the bird, that, warbling midst our grove 
 Nestles with us, and woos his sylvan loves. 
 
 Moved from the precinct of his native plains, 
 With us the tiger still his bride disdains : 
 The lion, too, with blood of boiling heat, 
 Loathes the caresses of his tawny mate. 
 Transport our dogs to Afric's sultry coast. 
 Changing alike, their voice and marks are lost. 
 Our dames in Asia keep their milk suppressed. 
 And trust their infant to an Indian breast. 
 
 Adopt those tribes alone whose yielding bent 
 Is with your climate and your fields content : 
 Deserting thus Helvetia's rocky heights. 
 The wanton heifer with our bull unites ; 
 Tlie venturous kid that climbs the mountain's breast 
 Clings to our cliffs, and leaves his native east ; 
 While richest flocks, from Spain or Afric's shore. 
 Train near the British ram their fleecy store. 
 Here through our forest neighs the Barb'ry steed. 
 Or Albion's race-mare bounds along the mead ; 
 Their offspring near, that frolic o'er the grass. 
 By turns pursue, by turns each other pass. 
 
 With mutual challenge lead the rival chase. 
 And weave the mazes of their sportive race. 
 
 THE QllET, noPKFrL UPB OP THE RRTUllfD AOniCrLTTRIST. 
 
 Ye blissful sighta ! ye landscapes ever gay ! 
 What scene with yours shall equal charms display ? 
 ! if my latter days by bounteous Ileaven 
 Free to my own disposal had been given, 
 Next to the solace of my peaceful muse 
 Delightful culture should my life amuse. 
 Is there a sweeter toil, where calm, yet still employed, 
 Each modest wish is by the sago enjoyed ; 
 Around his gardens and his waving grain. 
 His bending orchards and his fleecy train ; 
 Where'er his wandering footsteps he shall guide. 
 Still brightreyed Hope is smiling at his side. 
 He marks the vine-shoot cling around its stay, 
 Or for the fruit that ripens on the day. 
 Or budding flow'rets, struggling to be born. 
 He courts the clouds of eve, or dew of morn, 
 Or noon-day mists ; while, as their treasures ope, 
 His doubts and fears give added gust to hope. 
 While gifts or promises around him pour, 
 He sows or waits, collects or counts his store. 
 
 THE ACrnOtt'S aCRAL WTSDES. 
 
 How ilciir my flow'rets, and my cooling shade ! 
 What liittening flocks along my pasture strayed ! 
 All laughed around mo, and my fancy dreams 
 O'orflowed with fields of corn and milky streams ! 
 
 Short-lived chimeras ! impotent and vain ! 
 The broils of state, that o'er my country reign. 
 Have left mo nothing but my sylvan reed. 
 Adieu, my flocks, ray fruits, and flowery mead 1 
 Ye {proves of Pindus, shades forever green, 
 Trans|i(irt me now to your poetic scene ! 
 If I'ntf forbids to cultivate the plains. 
 To them at least I consecrate my strains : 
 Each rustic god his prosperous aid supplies. 
 The mountains listen, and the wood replies. 
 
 NATURAL DISADVANTAGES TO BE CONQrERED BV ART. — TOE 
 
 Like me, enamored of the sylvan art, 
 Of sylvan honors wouldst thou claim thy part. 
 Let not thy efforts seek a worthless meed ; 
 The fields to combat and to conquest lead. 
 Sccst thou yon barren hill, that, southward turned, 
 Feels its bare rock by raging Phcebus burned ! 
 Haste to its aid ; and let thy useful toil 
 From sterile cliffs create a fruitful soil. 
 Wide o'er its vanquished steep to plant the vine. 
 Mars, lend thy thunder to the god of wine ! 
 
 35 
 
274 
 
 RURAL POETRY. DELILLE. 
 
 The martial process bids tlie mountain shake, 
 Burnt to its entrails ; while in tliunilers break 
 Its bursting sides ; tniii I i Hnn iialur l.r.l, 
 
 The splintere.l mrk- il„ ,, m. I , ium, |.i.:,.|; 
 But soon the ^\>nt. w idi . In . i ! nl \ m. \ ,i i ^N . r,,\v 
 Smiles from tlle 1m ^w i\ Ihi -■ >l ,11- l,,l,.ie had Iruw 
 
 And sweetest nr> I. M , n- - innt reeeiveU, — 
 
 Sweeter to thee ;i- li\ ili\ i^il :tiliie\-ed, — 
 Shall bid thy trie 
 With orgies gay 1 
 
 On yonder side, a lose and moving land, 
 Swept by the waves, and at the winds' command, 
 Shows to the saddening view a barren tract ; 
 Yet e'eu from this thou tribute mayst exact, 
 If, bold corrector of the meagre coast, 
 Thy art o'er Nature may its conquest boast. 
 Thus Malta's soil has early learnt to smile 
 With verdure borrowed from another isle : 
 Its rock, renowned for deeds of bold emprise. 
 That sees afar the smokes of Mtaa, rise, 
 Received its soil from fertile Enna's plains ; 
 So smiles Sicilia through her rich domains. 
 The distant ground, that seas incessant lave. 
 Loosed from its hold and floating o'er the wave. 
 Clung to thecliff; when, lo ! the barren earth. 
 Which scarce sufficed to give the rosemary birth, 
 By dint of art, upon its burning side 
 Produced the fig and melon's juicy pride ; 
 Or ambered raisins, that perfume the soene ; 
 Or orange-groves, with boughs forever green. 
 There laurels only without culture grow. 
 Reflected gayly from the lake below. 
 The rock, so long by summer's heat consumed. 
 At length its autumn and its spring assumed. 
 
 Dare, if thou canst, this prosperous toil pursue ! 
 Enrich the cliffs, where never verdure grew, 
 With lowland sr.il ; ?n shall a fruitful stock 
 Conceal t!ie -:idii.-- ui' llie naked rock ; 
 
 But ivlirn thr Hind, i seas e.\ert their rage, 
 
 Let Inwd.iiilt \\;d]> rjje (head attack assuage. 
 ! hiugliing ticmenos,' with pleasures crowned, 
 So from thy sides the vine-tree nods around.; 
 The flg and olive, amorous of thy land. 
 Their richest verdure o'er the vale expand. 
 Their borrowed earth, procured by costly toil. 
 Displays the produce of a virgin soil. 
 Happy the man, that in thy blooming vale, 
 With softer breath where blows the wintry gale. 
 Beneath thy orange shades enjoys the day. 
 When vermeil skies emit the solar ray, 
 Inhales their sweets, and, like their verdant bowers. 
 In Winter's bosom mocks the freezing hours ! 
 
 The noble Art, that animates my strain 
 Its fame confines not to manure the plain, 
 I A beautiful valley of Provence. 
 
 But bids, to call its treasures into use, 
 Wave, wind, and flame, their jioteut aid adduce. 
 Of steel, of brass, the er.ii.iie -1 11 :i. iinves, 
 And hemp or wool tu \ 1 : 1 ; . n es. 
 
 Far from the upland- - 1 1 ( , ,,iil . I..w, 
 Ascend with me the mounUin ., iuf;;;ed brow : 
 Dreadful abode ! whence dashing torrents p<^r. 
 Where rolls the thunder, and the whirlwind's roar. 
 
 Ye mounts, that, oft by contemplation souglit, 
 Have driven the brightest valleys from my thought. 
 Still let me see those rocks with grandeur crowned, 
 And hear the falling flood's impetuous sound ! 
 ! who shall place me where the darksome shade 
 The secret pathway has impervious made ! 
 
 , LABOR, AND SKILL, PUT TO USE THE FORCES OF 
 NATCRE. — MAN0FACTDRES. 
 
 The time is fled, when from the mountain's height 
 I wooed fair Science to my longing sight. 
 Contented now to teach the industrious swain, 
 I call on Skill, Necessity, and Pain : 
 I bid him stop the flood's tumultuous tide. 
 That rolls its vagrant course from side to side ; 
 In channels deep the conquered waves to bind. 
 That, now divided, now together joined. 
 May raise the lever, circulate the wheel. 
 Divide the silk, or tame the hardy steel. 
 Here the roii-|] tmivot f.iiiiis, with docile aid. 
 The fleece ..1 I'l.lr- ,„ i;,dl,.iia\s blade; 
 There, lauiirlnd l.ke li-litnuig, o'er the surgy deep. 
 Destined for distant seas, the vessels sleep : 
 While here Annonay sees for Didot's skill 
 The sheet prepared his future lines m.ay fill. 
 The country teems with life ; the echoes round 
 The forge, the factory, and the waves, resound ; 
 Its rocks subdued, by man sublimely graced, [waste. 
 The mountain smooths its brow, and laughs the 
 
 Each stream or streamlet, round thy lands tha 
 Some salutary aid should still bestow. [flow 
 
 The rustic gods, and Dryads, in their turn. 
 Derive their treasures from the Naiad's urn. — 
 Most in those climates, where the burning god 
 Darts to the bottom of the dying sod ; 
 Where scarce the seasons for the soil prepare 
 A scanty dew-drop from the thirsty air. 
 
 Not distant far a running stream is found. 
 That lurks behind the mountain's jealous mound. 
 Quick o'er the hill a nobler conquest dare ; 
 Lo ! to the spot thy pioneers repair ! 
 The mountain crumbles from the frequent stroke ; 
 Whilst, by themselves an easy passage broke, 
 The long-armed barrows, groaning as they reel. 
 In active movement ply their single wheel ; 
 Return and go : still filled and emptied still. 
 They bear the ruins of the falling hill. 
 At length it yields ; and through its vaulted side 
 Another channel for the wave 's supplied. 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 211 
 
 Tho astonished Naiad, in her now-found bod, 
 To feats of wonder sees her waters led, [tides. 
 
 While spreading wide, and branched in different 
 I Each separate stream a new Paotolus glides. 
 The Hood, exulting iu her fresh domain, 
 Where'er it flows, bids verdure rise again. 
 And, sAttrcc of coolness, plenty, and of fame. 
 Soon pays the price of your victorious claim. 
 
 CONQCESTS OF ART OVER NATURE IX PERC. — IRRIGATION'. 
 
 In Lima's valleys, where tho orb of day 
 Downward and near directs his potent ray. 
 Where, morn and cv'n, the champaign and tho valo 
 Alternate catch tho sea or mountain gale, 
 W^ith art inferior, and with less expense, 
 Man knows his watery riches to dispense. 
 And, as their source he opens or restrains. 
 Hastes or retards the harvest of his gains. 
 Close to tho blushing fruit new blossoms opej 
 Trees give and promise ; men receive and hope. 
 Ilcre from the knife the obedient vine-shoot grows. 
 While there with golden grapes the vineyard glows. 
 What though the drops of heaven are still denied, 
 Man forms his seasons from the river's tide. 
 Delightful scenes, 'midst skies without a cloud, 
 That owe no treasures to the tempest loud ! 
 Such is tho force of Art, when mortals dare 
 To vanquish nature and correct the air ! 
 
 CASAtLISO POB DRAISIKO, IRRIGATIOM, AXD TRAXSPORT. 
 
 Canst thou not carry from yon marshy ground 
 The stagnant water to the channel's bound ; 
 And, giving Cores unexpected store. 
 Show heaven the fields it never saw before ? 
 When thrown at hazard, from its bubbling source, 
 The vagrant tide pursues a useless course. 
 Confined at length within a settled bod, 
 Through lengthening channels be the waters spread ; 
 Soon shalt thou see, upon the docile tide. 
 Above, below, the stately vessel glide : 
 To different countries shall it waft your stores. 
 With foreign fruits enrich its native shores. 
 Each want or interest, that connects mankind, 
 Through it a ready intercourse shall find. 
 B}' distant lands one common commerce found. 
 Earth, air, and sea, the Author's praise resound. 
 
 High in this art Riquet sublimely stands. 
 Who, on the labor of monastic hands. 
 Though Rome from error had obtained the praise, 
 Still greater wonders by his skill could raise ; 
 O'er each obstruction rose his daring mind. 
 And of two seas the distant billows joined. 
 Not Egypt's lakes, or Nile with wonders crOTvned, 
 E'er told such marvels to the countries round ! 
 
 THE CANAL OF LAXOt'KDOC DESCRIBED. 
 
 Somo magic art presents the wondering eye 
 Streams abuvc bridges, vessels near the sky ; 
 Roads beneath hills, and rooks to vaults thatchangc, I 
 
 Where countless streams in darksome caverns range. 
 In gloomy ways tho wandering vessels glide, 
 .And seoin to stem tho Acherontic tide. 
 .At length, by slow degrees an opening found, 
 .Sudden they see Elysium laugh arounH, 
 'Midst fruitful orchards, meads with blossoms bright, 
 .And iln/.zling colors from tho horiion's light. , 
 
 At fir^t tile waves, that view tho stoepy height, ' 
 Recoil with terror from the threatening sight ; 
 But soon from spaco to space, from all restrained. 
 Levelled with art, or else with art sustained, 
 -As from the mountain to tho vale they bend. 
 From fall to fall, in safety they descend ; 
 Then winding gently through tho enamelled mead. 
 The stately vessel to the ocean lead. 
 Great masterpiece, where Nature, foiled by Art, 
 Joins the two seas, that keep two worlds apart ! 
 
 But lest these waters, breaking from their bed. 
 With force destructive o'er your fields should spread. 
 Taught by example drawn from earliest age. 
 Learn to suppress their desolating rage. 
 Seek'st thou tho means ? In emblematic guise 
 Ingenious Ovid well those means supplies. 
 
 STORV OP TUB RIVER ACIIELOUS . 
 
 n8Hcin.E3; the ser- 
 
 Stern Aclii^l..,,-, I,in-n,., n-,,,, hi- 1. .,,,„. is, 
 Swept henl.s anil i.ilil. i: ■ i : , . :. 1 1 grounds, 
 Beneath his ua\i on,',:, ,, i, ^-rain, 
 
 .And razed wli>>l..> hainl' i i: ;ii li.' ii jiaLuu plain ; 
 With dreadful rage unpeopled cities vast, 
 .And changed the country to a gloomy waste. 
 Aleidcs camu, and, burning to subdue 
 The iMllnuini; \va\.-, liiiuself among them threw : 
 Stciniurri i,y l)i. II' ivais arm their tumults cease, 
 An<I 1"'i1mil: \WiiiI[.""1> too subside in peace. 
 Indigiiaut at liKs .'Uauic, the vanquished flood. 
 Clothed iu a sei-pout's form, before him stood : 
 Hissing and swollen, with many an opening fold, 
 Alun- tho tioniblin- .«and his bulk he rolled. 
 lliil. - II.. ]"i'.i\'.|, .Aleraena's valiant son 
 ■■^'i'' I _ I I .'ripe, and chained him down: 
 
 'fill, ! I . I I I'.. I in tho potent grasp, 
 
 llij >l.Mii- I. .1.1- tiiiiL tlicir latest gasp. 
 The god e.\ults ; ' What ! could thy rashness hope 
 With me in deeds of hardihood to cope ? 
 Iladst thou forgot, that, in my cradle laid. 
 Two vanquished snakes my infant force displayed ? ' 
 The river, furious with redoubled shame, 
 Still boldly dares to vindicate his fame, 
 And rushes on the god : but now no more 
 His scaly volumes wind along the shore. 
 A lordly bull, with forehead dark and storn, 
 Tho trembling bank his heels indignant spurn. 
 His head is tossed in air ; lighten his eyes ; 
 He roars, and thunder bellows to tho skies : 
 The god undaunted sees the war arise. 
 With active fury on the foe he flies. 
 And prostrate throws ; each vi.'orous knee imprest 
 Full on his panting nook, and nervous chest ; 
 
276 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Triumphant o'er him from his brow he tears 
 One bending horn, and as a trophy bears. 
 When now the Dryads, and the sylvan train. 
 Their wrongs avenged, and safe their green domain. 
 With grateful gifts the weary god surround. 
 With festoons shaded, and with garlands crowned ; 
 Heap their glad favors in the smiling horn, 
 With fruits enrich it, and with flowers adorn. 
 
 Delightful tale ! whose allegoric charm 
 Alike the painter and the bard shall warm ! 
 Mark, in the serpent, and his mazy fold, 
 The winding streams, in various circles rolled. 
 The roaring bull, with imitative sound, 
 Describes the billows dashing to the mound. 
 His bending horns the branching streamlets show ; 
 The one Alcides ravished from his brow, 
 That richest fruits and blushing flow'rets heap — 
 That marks the recompense which mortals reap 
 From streams subdued, in emblematic guise. 
 The joys of plenty to mankind supplies. 
 
 CONQUESTS OVER THE SEA IS HOLLAND. — DIB 
 PASTlTtES. 
 
 Does this surprise ? The bold Batavian see. 
 With potent toil, enchain the subject sea. 
 Deep in the bosom of the ocean sunk, 
 A barrier sure, the oak presents his trunk ; 
 No more his boughs, that proudly waved on high, 
 The spring embellish, or the storm defy ; 
 For, destined now a different power to brave. 
 He breaks the fury of the rushing wave. 
 Yon side, a rushy fence, that bends along, 
 By art made potent, and in weakness strong. 
 Where the rough surge its dreadful fury sends. 
 Eludes its rage, resisting as it bends. 
 From hence the conquered soil, and fertile plain. 
 Offspring of Art, emerging from the main ; 
 Near flowery meads, with grazing flocks around. 
 The traveller, passing by the rampart's bound. 
 Astonished, listens, roaring o'er his head. 
 The stormy billows, and the tempest dread. 
 Hence o'er the land, where toil forgets repose. 
 Nature is Art, and Art enchantment grows. 
 
 STREAMS TO BE CURBED BT ART. 
 
 Thy scant domains may no such wonders show, 
 Y'et they, e'en they, their miracles may know. 
 Exert thy skill, and learn by hardy force 
 To reap advantage from the river's course. 
 Whether its current, warring with thy land. 
 Eat through its borders, and consume the strand ; 
 Or whether now, by lawless freedom led. 
 The flying stream forget its native bed. 
 And, wildly ravaging the neighbor-field, 
 To you the booty of his warfare yield, — 
 Receive its presents, and its bank protect. 
 The usurping billows in their course direct ; 
 Rule o'er the willing or the rebel wave. 
 Thy tributary now, and now thy slave. 
 
 Oft has the land, of loose and fragile mould, 
 Disparting sudden from its clay-formed hold, 
 Launched on the waters, which in triumph bore 
 The floating burden to the neighboring shore. 
 The new possessor, gifted by the main. 
 At sunrise finds a late-acquired domain. 
 Whilst the sad owner sees his lands retire. 
 His kindred land, bequeathed from sire to sire. 
 
 Soft be the strain that sings .Nigeria's woes, 
 -Egeria fair, whose bliss from sorrow rose. 
 'Midst Scotia's mountains, on a spreading lake, 
 Where moving isles the rising billows break, 
 A scanty farm her hoary sire possessed. 
 Raised o'er the waves, and floating on their breast. 
 Thus, like a flow'ret on the ocean thrown. 
 The Grecian bard the wandering isle * has shown. 
 Where erst Latona found a resting-place, 
 The hallowed cradle of her godlike race. 
 Capricious work of hazard and the surf. 
 Of boughs by age entwined, or mossy turf. 
 Whilst roots and falling leaves their succor 
 By slow degrees jEgeria's island grew. 
 Around were seen the willow and the reed ; 
 No herds majestic did its pastures feed. 
 Nor sheep nor heifer bounded o'er the mead : 
 Some scattered kids, that o'er the island strayed. 
 The sole possession of J?geria made. 
 Small though the wealth her subjects could assure, 
 How little forms the riches of the poor ! 
 Oft would her father cling to her embrace. 
 And say, ' My child, that bearest thy mother's face, 
 The island, kids, and meadow, that I see, 
 Long has my heart in dowry given thee.' 
 
 threw, 
 
 On the adverse shore, of woods and mead possessed, 
 Dolon had long jEgeria's charms confessed ; 
 But, for another destined by lier «irp. 
 His thwarting will h:v\ >l:niii-.l thr i i^^ing fire : 
 Yet potent love, with i-.r-.i , rin- -l>ill, 
 Their woes to soften, «:i- iimi-ninii- -till ; 
 And oft the billows to each other's shore 
 Or fruits or flowers in mutual presents bore ; 
 Oft too would Dolon, launching on the tide. 
 His light-oared vessel to the island guide, 
 By Love directed ; for, in every date. 
 Love amidst isles has flxed his favorite seat. 
 What though not hero was seen the magic land, 
 Emerging sudden from Armida's wand, 
 A softer charm our youthful lovers bound ; 
 To see and love, were all the spells they owned ; 
 And if condemned of absence to complain. 
 Though pleasure fled, yet hope would still remain. 
 
 THE NAIAD, DORIS, AND THE OOD EOLDS. 
 
 But Love determined, to their passion kind, 
 
 To join their hands whose hearts before he joined. 
 
 1 Deloa, or Octygia, in the centre of the Cyclades. 
 
277 I 
 
 Amongst the Naiads, which those isles adore, 
 Beauty's first priio tlio lovely Doris bore. 
 No brighter treasure did the silver waves 
 Hide in the bottom of their crystal caves. 
 'Midst aiuro tides her tresses shone with gold, 
 For her the stream in smoother murmurs rolled, 
 Proud of its charge, that, 'mongst the nymphs ad- 
 With softer strains Palomon's shell inspired, [mired. 
 Nor never yet, reclined on Thetis' breast, 
 Was fairer Naiad by the waves caressed. 
 The god whose power the winds impetuous own 
 Had vainly wooed her to his stormy throne ; 
 But still she shrunk before the godhead's force, 
 Whose every sigh was as the tempest hoarse. 
 E.'cperience knows, that, in the walks of love, 
 Few boisterous spirits shall affection move. 
 
 But Cupid now to Eolus repairs, 
 Entangk'l 'hr].\y in In- uily .snares, 
 And, 'List.,,. I^.lu- , i-j-ria fair, 
 And D. .1.111. I. I.- I M>. I I. itlK'il the mutual prayer. 
 Some (itlKT -w;iiii .l-ni-inl- ttie promised maid ; 
 Then join with me the lovely pair to aid. 
 ■Hgeria's island, by the tempest tossed, 
 Drive o'er the lake, and fix on Dolon's const. 
 Then shall their hands in happy wedlock join, 
 And, to reward thee, Doris shall be thine. 
 Hut, far removed from thy tempestuous reign, 
 ller charming grotto let her still retain. 
 Where, sheltered safely from the north wind's beat. 
 The western gale may fan her soft retreat.* 
 Thus Cupid spoke, and roused the godhead's heart. 
 That bliss to haston where his own had part. 
 One dreadful morn, the winds' tempestuous shock 
 Bent on the isle, which swelling billows rook ; 
 At length it yields, before the tempest driven, 
 With force unequalled, that deforms the heaven. 
 See sad vEgcria on the bank remain, 
 With tears recall her fugitive domain. 
 And fears unjust a while to Dolon's view. 
 Lest with her dower she lose her lover too. 
 Afflicted maid ! thy causeless dread forbear ; 
 For Love and Fortune, to each other dear. 
 From mutual blindness mutual succor lend, 
 And guide thy island to a prosperous end. 
 
 *OBRIi'S FLOiTl.NO ISLAND LODGES ON DOLOS'S FARM. 
 
 Through many a course it verges to the shore, 
 Where pensive Dolon hears the tempest roar. 
 Long time in mute astonishment he sees 
 The moving i.sland, and the floating trees ; 
 But what new wonder o'er his senses moves. 
 When, nearer borne, he views the isle he loves ! 
 His anxious eye pursues the swimming wreck. 
 Dreads lest the wave or rock its progress check. 
 Long at the mercy of the wind and tides. 
 At length in safety to the shore it rides. 
 And fixes there ; and now, with eager pace. 
 How Dolon hurries o'er the much-loved place ! 
 
 Ho seeks the silent grot and secret gnive, 
 
 Where no profaner eye had traced their love. 
 
 Has tho wild wave's impetuous fury spared 
 
 The flowers he watered, and tho trees ho reared ? 
 
 Still shall he find, of love the tender mark. 
 
 Their names united on the wounded bark ? 
 
 Each well-known scene his soul's emotion moves. 
 
 That equal care and eiiual terror proves, 
 
 With yon sad friend, who, from the howling storm. 
 
 Of some loved friend surveys the shipwrecked form. 
 
 DAPPr ISSt'B op TUK ] 
 
 . OF DOLOX AND AGBaiA 
 
 Scarce does tho tempest into peace subside, 
 Ere eager Dolon launches on the tide. 
 And near tho spot where stood the isle before 
 He finds J5gcria weeping on the shore, 
 In grief more lovely : still her isle she sought. 
 That, once hor portion, now but sorrow brought. 
 See ardent Dolon, kneeling at their feet. 
 Each tender parent with his tears entreat': 
 * ! grieve no more ; inexorable Fate, 
 In taking yours, has given you my estate ; 
 Then come with me.' And o'er the watery plain 
 His bark conveys them to their joint domain. 
 At first the sudden change their sight deceived : 
 But scarce ^Egeria had the spot perceived, 
 ' And, lo ! our isle.' ' Yes,' cries the grateful swain, 
 ' Moved by the storm. Love gives it you again. 
 Though great the sorrow thou wast doomed to feel. 
 Great as it was, my bliss is greater still ! 
 So may the favoring gods, our shores that joined. 
 Our hands and hearts in blissful Hymen bind ! ' 
 Each weeping parent joins tho assenting voice, 
 .Sgeria's bluslies imlicate her clioicc. 
 Stii: flv.M th.. .-!■■. t.. li..|..ii.i..-llydoar, 
 It,<|,ri.lni.- i...ii.,. ..,..| ,.i.|.... I, .!■.■.. wuar. 
 
 Sustained by art, against its sleepy side 
 With feeble fury breaks the roaring tide ; 
 Thus, 'midst the waves, the wandering isle was bound, 
 Where Bliss a refuge. Love a Delos found ! 
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 Nature, different views of. The deluKC. Plants, relics ( 
 Kivcrs, course of choked. Hurricane, effects of. Vc 
 canoes. Cities, subterraneous. Sea, its wonders, pr 
 tluctions of. Kffecla of. Batltlng places. Mountain 
 variously formed. Jura and Monlanveru, description i 
 Avalanche, description of one. Botany, study of. Be 
 aiiisu, party of. Subject continued. Natural curiositii 
 cabinet of. Birds, beasts, etc. Insects. Order recon 
 mended. ObjecU, choice of. Author's cat, < 
 
 THB SOIX ELB%*ATED BY A VIEW OF NATCRB. 
 
 I love tho man, that, noble in his views, 
 Tho culture of his land and soul pursues ; 
 Unlike the vulgar wretch, whoso darksome mind, 
 By error shrouded, and to Nature blind, 
 Still vainly tries to lift tho grovelling sight. 
 Through all his works, to God's celestial height. 
 
278 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — DELILLE. 
 
 TULGAK lONORASCE, ITS DISiDViSTAGES. 
 
 Vainly for him, in landscapes wide displayed, 
 Contrasted Iiarmony of light and shade ! 
 He knows not how, in secret channels fed. 
 From root to trunk the wandering sap is led ; 
 Thence through the boughs its liquid virtue sends. 
 Till in the leaves its raising effort ends. 
 He heeds not whence the crystal waters rise, 
 Or the rich tints of Nature's varied dyes : 
 And, still a stranger to his trees and flowers, 
 Knows not their name, their lineage, and their 
 Sad Philomela mourns her callow young, [powers. 
 Spoiled by his boorish hand, — and Spring, its song. 
 
 The Sage alone, who studies Nature's laws, 
 Sinoerest pleasures from the country draws, 
 And, while the Arts his friendly aid receive, 
 For him, and him alone, does Nature live. 
 From cares important, that your hours employ. 
 The fertile source of all domestic joy, 
 Breath'st thou awhile? with learning's richest store 
 Your leisure soothe, and make enjoyment more. 
 Three reigns distinct their mysteries display, 
 And call their lord his subjects to survey : 
 With me advance, where Nature's gifts are seen. 
 With me arise, with mo enjoy the scene. 
 
 What varied beauties shine upon her face ! 
 Here all is beauty, harmony, and grace ! 
 Here the thick verdure of the freshened grass. 
 Where bubbling streams in soothing murmurs pass ! 
 There uplands slope, or woods majestic wave ! 
 Here the soft shelter of the mossy cave ! 
 There dreadful rents, that yawn upon the land. 
 Bear the rude mark of Time's destructive hand ! 
 Here sterile sands, that whirlwinds scatter wide ! 
 Here the rough torrent rolls its rebel tide ! 
 Or wild-grown moss, and heath, and rugged thorn. 
 Show the sad image of a soil forlorn ! 
 All ill or good ! a blessing or a scourge 1 
 Rut shouldst thou dare thy bold inquiry urge. 
 And deeply search the causes and effect. 
 Let not that doubtful wit thy zeal direct. 
 That now affirms disorder rules the ball. 
 And now that harmony presides in all I 
 Of real genius wouldst thou knowledge gain, 
 The sect of Buffon shall thy doubts explain ! 
 
 BDFFON'S COSMOGONY. — EFFECTS OF THE DELUGE. 
 
 Of old, the deluge, in its dreadful course. 
 Loosing the waves, left man without resource ! 
 In one vast ocean bade the flood expand 
 The rains of heaven and rivers of the land ! 
 Where mountains stood, a level champaign spread ! 
 And where the vales, the mountain reared its head ! 
 Beneath one tomb two continents it hurled. 
 Scattering the ruins of the ravaged world ! [break ; 
 Raised lands o'er waves ; o'er land bade waters 
 
 While second chaos rolled upon the wreck ! 
 Hence, buried deep, those heaps of blackened wood. 
 Teeming with fire ; the red volcano's food ! 
 Hence secret layers, within their earthy bed, 
 Bear one world's rilins'on the other's spread. 
 
 By milder process to each other bound. 
 In different parts are different layers found ! 
 The waves, that lead along the winding shore 
 To distant seas their tributary store, 
 Have varied matter carried with their tide. 
 That ne'er by Nature had been yet allied : 
 E.ach weighty substance found a sudden grave. 
 Whilst others lightly hung upon the wave ; 
 Till, from the stream to heavier matter grown. 
 They to the first deposit joined their own ; 
 The gathering slime, upon their surface spread. 
 Raised layer on layer, and added bed to bed. 
 While shrubs, unbroken by the dashing flood. 
 Stamped perfect forms upon the gathered mud. 
 
 Thrown amongst us, or by the raging tide 
 Of rolling lake, or stream, or ocean wide. 
 What though these relics to the sight display 
 Plants amongst us that never saw the day. 
 Their forms unaltered, and their beds profound, 
 That stopped the billows as they beat around ; 
 Or oft two lay'rs, that o'er each other rest. 
 With the same branches upon each impressed, 
 Convince the sage ; whose nice discernment sees 
 A cause in all, that works by slow degrees. 
 Incurious he to draw their distant source 
 From the wild ravage of the deluge, course ; 
 Effects consistent his researches trace 
 In Nature's walk, and Time's progressive pace. 
 
 RUl.V LAPSED BT THE OUTBfRSTING OF LAKES. 
 
 Remark yon hamlet, that, in mouldering wrecks. 
 Some dire disaster mournfully bespeaks ! 
 What evils caused it, let our zeal inquire. 
 Or from the place itself or village sire. 
 Within the hollow of the rooky steep 
 The source of future streams lay buried deep ; 
 The assiduous waters, slowly filtering through. 
 Aided by time, their reservoirs o'erthrew. 
 Sudden the hills, with dreadful noise that broke, 
 Fill up the river, and its basin choke : 
 While, thrown with fury from their native bounds, 
 The waters rise in mass, and break their mounds ; 
 With scattered fragments of the rook and wood, 
 They sweep whole cities in the furious flood ! 
 Within the concave of yon hollowed space, 
 Still may the eye its dreadful ravage trace. 
 Where oft the hermit, o'er the ruins bent. 
 In lengthened tale relates the dire event. 
 
 VARYING APPEARANCE OF SOILS. 
 
 Poured from the summit of yon darksome brow. 
 Rushed sudden torrents on the vale below ! 
 
8DMMBR — AUGUST. 
 
 279 
 
 Tho wild eruption of tho roaring tide 
 Funned other lakes, and other dtrtiain» supplied. 
 Seest thou yon mount, against whose barren sides 
 The bleak north-east eternal warfare guides 7 
 Tho weeping sky, detaching with tho rain 
 Its loosened soil, conveyed it to tho plain, 
 And left its summits, towering to tho air. 
 Despoiled of riehos, and of verdure bare ! 
 Fur from tho prospect of these naked rocks, 
 Whoso gloomy scene th' afflicted eyesight shocks, 
 Turn wo our footsteps to the fields below, 
 Each varied soil remarking as wo go. 
 Seo on those hills that culture never knew. 
 Where first tho gods its simple substance threw, 
 Tho virgin earth its purencss still retain, 
 Though changed its kind, as verging to tho plain. 
 Each varied turn let observation's view, 
 From shade to shade, from vein to vein, pursue. 
 
 -ITS EFFECTS. 
 
 But see the hurricane his flight prepare ! [air; 
 *Midst darksome clouds he wings his speed through 
 With tempest, night, and thunder, in bis train. 
 Sweeps towns and forests from the ravaged plain ; 
 Drives back the river to its trembling bed, 
 And lifts tho ocean to tho mountain's head ; 
 Hence fields o'er fields, by force resistless, ranged ! 
 Hence streams and hills their first position changed ! 
 Th' afflicted earth, bereft of fruit and flowers, 
 In woods of sorrow mourns her gayer hours. 
 
 Tho impetuous fire shall equal fury pour, 
 When .(Etna's torrents and its tempest roar ! 
 The pregnant earth, within whose womb is fed 
 Tho black bitumen, and the sulphured bed. 
 Fires, air, and tide, and from its darksome caves 
 O'er its own oflapring sheds the boiling waves. 
 Too striking emblem of the furious heat 
 That fires the heart, when warring passions meet. 
 When, bursting sudden from the inmost soul, 
 O'er life's fair produce they destruction roll ! 
 Yon calcined rock, and yonder blackened ground. 
 Too well announce where raged, the plains around. 
 Volcanic flames — though now their rage is dead. 
 And Cerr-s .-inil.s, ;i!i.I I'lora's blossoms spread. 
 Of yon.l. I -1. . I-, nli.-r -ides each other face, 
 Thou^'li .1.1 lj;i- |.i-i. ..i... still retains the trace. 
 Tho la\;i li'T'- if- liiry t..rrcnt poured! 
 On yonder bed the rushing billows roared ! 
 Till, further on, the tide's expansive force 
 Exhausted stood, and sudden checked its course. I 
 What potent streams this dire misfortune dried ! 1 
 What mountains sunk ! what wretched mortals died! 
 
 The imperfect tale has reached these later years 
 From times of old, and gives us all their fears ! 
 Hero shall the farmer, on some future day, 
 Uliere towns immersed beneath the torrent lay, 
 Strike on the ruins with his driving share, 
 
 The gulf discover, and its secrets bare. 
 With silent awe th' astonished eye shall scan 
 ^his buried monument of arts and man ; 
 Of antiijuo domes the unaccustomed sight, 
 The circus, palace, and the temple's height ; 
 Tho schools or porches, where the sage of old 
 To listening crowds the moral lesson told ! 
 Where human figures every dwelling fill. 
 Their looks unaltered, as if breathing still : 
 Light forms ! thai now would crumble at a breath. 
 Fixed in the posture as surprised by deatli ! 
 Some anxious boar their children or their gold ; 
 And some their works, their richest treasure, hold ; 
 Von pious man his guardian god defends ; 
 Yon duteous son beneath his parent bends. 
 One lifts tho goblet ; who, with garland crowned. 
 His latest hour, his latest banquet found. 
 
 Glory to Buffon ! who, to guide tho sage, 
 Raised seven beacons o'er the sea of ago ! 
 Tho world's historian, in his eS'orts grand. 
 He drew its changes with a master hand ; 
 Yet scarcely moving from his loved retreat, 
 lie judged the globe from Montbar's shady seat. 
 Like potent kings he sought his envoy's aid, 
 And on their faith he Nature's work displayed. 
 
 LIMAGNA. — ITS EXTINCT VOLCANOES. 
 
 0, had his footsteps trod Limngna's ground. 
 My native soil, with gladsome pleasure crowned. 
 That TiTn,.'> iri.l.. nnnal- t.. tho sight unicll, 
 
 Wl,:,t n,|.tin.- ,r■^, ],..\ ..,..• I ..nhiss.ml ! 
 
 TI..T.. Ihl.... v..|.:m M... n|...|, the view, 
 
 Di.-tirii.| llii-u- 1....I-, .li-lin.'t Ih.-ir currents too ; 
 111 'Ir. i.llul iiL.ik-, til.- yawning lands display 
 Tlir . ..iiiitl. -- \( ;ii- tliat since have rolled away ! 
 Willi.. -..III. Ii.. I.iuivil in the sea profound. 
 Some gained the seat where ocean dashed around. 
 The first from side to side its torrents shed ; 
 The next in waves of fire its fury spread. 
 In yon deep trenches, deeper still from tirao, 
 Where other days present their scenes sublime, 
 Those dreadful fires, in difl'erent ages lost. 
 Seas o'er volcanoes, or beneath them tossed ; 
 There primal chaos to the mind is brought. 
 And endless oges weigh upon the thought. 
 
 Yet ere we quit the mountain and the plain, 
 Of broken marble take the lightest grain ; 
 In rich memorial from its veins are shown 
 Tho varied ages that its form has known ; 
 Raised from deposits of the living world, 
 By Ruin's self 'twas into being hurled. 
 To shape its form, cemented by the tide, 
 What races fell, what generations died ! 
 How long tho sea upon its substonce pressed ! 
 How oft the waves have rolled it in their breast ! 
 Of old, descending to his steepy bed, 
 The ocean left it on tho mountain's head ; 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Again the tempest to the ocean bore. 
 Again the ocean threw it on the shore, 
 In change succeeding change ; thus worn by age, 
 It stood the billows' and the whirlwinds' rage. 
 The rise of worlds withiu this marble read ; 
 This marble was a rock ; the rock a seed, 
 Offspring of time, of sea, of air, and land, 
 Modest coeval of these mountains grand ! 
 
 What fertile source of study and of joy, [ploy. 
 With thoughts unnumbered, would your time em- 
 Should the vast ocean, from his rich domain. 
 Still nearer show the wonders of his reign ! 
 Tremendous sea ! what mortal at thy sight 
 Feels not his bosom seized with awful fright? 
 My infant eyes were struck with early dread, 
 When first I saw thy boundless surface spread ! 
 How man and art thy varied scenes enrich ! 
 There human genius reached its noblest pitch ; 
 Made countless vessels, hanging on the main, 
 Of states and worlds the medium and the chain. 
 Deep as the sea itself, thy thoughts demand 
 The hidden wrecks of many a warlike land ; 
 Whole streets immersed within the briny grave, 
 And troops and treasures buried in the wave. 
 
 Or with LinnEeus, plunging to his bed, 
 Mark where the groves of reed and fucus spread, 
 By us unseen, till by the tempest thrown, 
 That for the seas another Flora own ; 
 The sponge, the coral, and the polype's nest. 
 Strange work of seas and insects in their breast. 
 What streams from hence derive their secret source. 
 What floods renowned achieve their mighty course. 
 Sometimes thine eye those monsters shall pursue. 
 Like distant rocks, that rise upon the view ; 
 
 Or now thy thoughts, with Buffon's aid, explain 
 The many changes of its noisy reign ; 
 Its grand events ; its tides, that rise or fall. 
 As on its axle turns the rolling ball ; 
 Those dread volcanoes, that, from earth's abodes, 
 Of old defied the thunder of the gods ; 
 Or those, whose ardent fires, profoundly placed 
 Beneath the bottom of his briny waste, 
 Some future day, the burning rock shall urge, 
 In smoky ruins, o'er the foaming surge. — 
 Remark yon capes, that o'er the tide impend. 
 Those gulfs, whose shores the waves alternate rend ; 
 Those mountains, buried in the ocean vast. 
 The Alps of future or of ages past, 
 Whilst hill and valley, smiling to the eye, 
 Must in their turn beneath the waters lie. 
 Thus earth and sea, in endless changes hurled, 
 Seem each to claim the ruin of the world. 
 Thus bites the anchor, where the cattle fed, 
 And rolls the chariot, where the sail was spread ; 
 
 Worn by the ravage of the breaking tide, 
 The world its age in Time's abyss would hide. 
 
 WATEB-COCRSES. — HACKNEYED STRAINS. 
 
 Turned from the Sea, whose billows ever move. 
 Thine eye the river and the stream shall love ; 
 Not those our witlings sing in numbers cold, 
 Whose hackneyed strains have made the Naiads old; 
 Turn we to those, whose docile waves prepare 
 Effects distinguished, or sume wonder rare ; 
 Or trace the river to its distant source, 
 Or through its mazes mark its changing course. 
 As winding on, and spread from side to side, 
 Inward or salient angles mark its tide. 
 
 The stream, the well, the fountains, shall I sing, 
 That soft relief to sorrowing sickness bring? 
 Amongst whose scenes appears a mingled train, 
 In joy and grief, in pleasure and in pain, 
 That, when the spring resumes its verdant sway, 
 True to the time, their annual visit pay. 
 Here limping sires each other's ailments soothe, 
 And here exults the giddy train of youth ; 
 The old splenetic, and the vapored fair, 
 To the same spot in mingled crowds repair ; 
 Anna renews the blushes of her cheeks, 
 While healing for his wound the warrior seeks ; 
 The glutton here for past indulgence pays ; 
 Each on the shrine of Health his offering lays. 
 Their ills, whose burden long their servants bore 
 And friends, here seek relief, but pity more. 
 At morning creeps the melancholy throng, 
 At night is heard the banquet and the song ; 
 Here thousand joys 'midst thousand sorrows dwell, 
 Like glad Elysium, in the midst of hell. 
 
 These scenes forsaking, and their noisy train, 
 Once more return we to your green domain ; 
 High to its magic palace let us trace 
 The watery source that feeds the river's space. 
 Where yonder mounts, that long have ruled your 
 Romantic scenes, sublimer prospects yield. [field, 
 O'er their vast rocks, that scattered rise in air, 
 Methinks that Genius bids the Arts repair ; 
 Where, to the painter thousand tints displayed. 
 Afford him flood of light or mass of shade ; 
 AVhenoe to the bard sublimer strains arise. 
 And where the sage pure Nature's law descries ; 
 Bear to the freeborn man and bird of Jove, 
 Their brow has seen whole ages round it move, 
 No 
 
 Here learn to scan 
 Th' eternal God through all his mighty plan, 
 Where Time's wide annals, opened to the view. 
 Display the mountains from the waves that grew ; 
 Those, that by sudden fires in air were thrown, 
 Or primal mounts, that with the world have grown : 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 281 
 
 ' OAiisiTrns OP mocstaiss. 
 
 Thoir beds so various, and their spiry top, 
 Their horijontal form, and sides that slupo, 
 Mysterious work of ages and of chance ! 
 Sonietiuics thine oyo shall trace, with curious glance, 
 Tho rude-formed circles of the hanging rook, 
 The black basaltcs, tho volcano's shock, 
 Tho granite, fashioned by tho assiduous tide, 
 Whole beds of schist and marble's veiny prido ; 
 Pierce to their centre, drive into their breast. 
 Whore God, and Man, and Nature, stand impressed. 
 
 NATrRE'S 
 
 Tho goddess n<.w, -uiidst sniil.s of gladness seen, 
 
 Withti.i"r,- ,,n,| >,,. \..].^ ,\,. h:,|,,,y scene ; 
 
 Xow linM ,i-.( I . .1.. ii ; I , • . I'v ^race. 
 
 Of aneici ,1. -I . 1 :- . , , , UAvcl 
 
 There, :us ;i,,l,.uiua t.. ii,,c ui...u il.v day. 
 In modest streams tho riv'let steals away j 
 Here the loud cataract foams adown tho steep ; 
 Hero zephyrs softly kiss, or north winds sweep. 
 Hero orchards smile, volcanoes yawn along, 
 Echoe.>i tho thunder, or the shepherd's song ; 
 Hero fertile vales with gladsome verdure crowned ; 
 There richest produce waves along the ground ; 
 Hero naked rocks, like skeletons that show. 
 Spring at their feet, and Winter on thoir brow. 
 
 MOOTS JCBA AXD MOSTANVEBTS DESCRIBED. 
 
 Hail, pompous Jura ! hail, Montanverts dread ! 
 ^Vhere ice and snow in heaps enormous spread ; 
 Where Winter's fane, that dazzling columns raise. 
 Like changing prisms, a thousand tints displays. 
 It« rugged sides, with azure dies that glow, 
 Defy the sun from whence its colors flow. 
 Rich gold or purple o'er the mass is shown. 
 While Winter, seated on his icy throne, 
 Exults to see the God who lights tho morn 
 Shine on his palace, and his court adorn. 
 Amidst these wonders, strowcd by Nature's hand, 
 These striking pictures, and these prospects grand, 
 Still o'er the scene imagination glows. 
 Nor flags the thought, nor docs the eye repose. 
 
 Woe to tho mortal who with hardy tread 
 Shall tempt the horrors of these mountains dread ; 
 Unless the lire-fraught tube has tried the heap 
 Of gloomy frosts tliat hang upon tho steej). 
 What grand effects arise from causes light ! 
 The bird, oft perched upon tho mountain's height. 
 Loosens a grain of snow ; whose pigmy ball. 
 New force acquiring in ita rapid fall, 
 Sees gathering snows around its circle cling, 
 And every move an added burden bring. 
 Trembles the air, when now, with dreadful roar. 
 Of many a winter past the gathered store, 
 Bounding from hill to hill, from rock to rock, 
 Earth's inmost bosom trembling at the shock. 
 Destroys whole hamlets, sweeps away tho wood. 
 Nor leaves the trace whore once the oity stood. 
 
 36 ~ 
 
 Around these falling Alps dread whirlwinds rise, 
 .*truck by whoso distant blast the traveller dies. 
 Thus mighty states, oppressed with growing ills. 
 That slowly gather till thoir measure fills. 
 Sink down at length, in long-expected doom ! 
 Tyro, Thebes, are lost ; in vain we look for llomc. 
 native Franco ! tho scono of many a woe, 
 How do thy suff'crings bid mine eyes o'erflow ! 
 
 Cfl-TIVATIOS OP TREES. — ORAFTINO SAP. 
 
 Fatigued at length to tread this horrid scene. 
 Descend once more upon tho oharapaign green ; 
 
 Near tho bii-ht streani, .il.mK the laughing vale, 
 WIkt.' -Inuli- ;iim1 I) nil- ih.ir Hi iiif,'led swccta exhalo, 
 Orlli.Hri^,,! ri.i-, nip .- Li ciirhrs proudly bend, 
 
 T'"-ii" 'ii;li M III i.l>M,i,i, li Ii.iirent race extend ; 
 
 Thrun^li tliLm wliat mu i..,t ilu yuur fields present ! 
 Observe their varied colors, form, and bent ; 
 Their loves and marriage ; how the grafted shoot 
 Corrects the wildnoss of tho forest root ; 
 Amends its fruits, bids loaded branches rise. 
 And to your trees a race unknown supplies ! 
 Mark too tho sap, that, ere its process ends, 
 In course alternate rises or descends ; 
 In active virtue, how its liquid power 
 Creates the wood, tho loaf, the fruit, and flower. 
 
 riii- vjri.,iL- i,. , I ,,i iiiiii'ss deck the plain. 
 When- -riiri'' tli- 1 .,1 ,, |i.iii_iiiy glance will deign. 
 Do they no profit, wj attraction, show ? 
 The God who formed the world made them to grow. 
 Their powers mysterious let thy knowledge silt, 
 Their useful poisons, and their healing gift. 
 Where'er they rise, no part of earth is lost, 
 Since e'en the desert may its beauty boast. 
 ! may thy footsteps still with plciisure trace 
 The fragrant dwelling of this bumble race ; 
 Whether you tread Chantiliys woody pride. 
 Rich Mendon's brow, or Marli's flowery side. 
 
 BOTANIZING WITH PRIESDS. — jr3.-«EC. 
 
 I these visits more delightful make 
 Let some choice friends the pleasing task partake. 
 With ready zeal they at thy call unite, 
 Enhance thy joys, and moke thy labor light. 
 But 't is not here tho sound of sylvan war, 
 Tho horn and trumjiet echoing from afar ! 
 Graze on, ye herds, amidst your peaceful shade. 
 Nor you, ye feathered songsters, bo dismayed ; 
 They hurt not you : in innocent pursuit. 
 They search the varied plant, or tree, or root ; 
 From wood or mead, from mountain and from plain 
 The herbal waits its present to obtain. 
 The morning air, tho freshness of the day. 
 Calls Flora's students to their task away. 
 While Jussieu leads them, eager to explain 
 Each part that forms tho vegetable reign : 
 Sometimes of blended plants thoy form with art 
 A specious whole, from many a borrowed part ; 
 
282 
 
 RURAL POETRY. DBLILLE. 
 
 With smiling goodness he the work receives, 
 
 And to each plant its borrowed fragment gives. 
 
 In these researches emulous to shine, 
 
 O'er every flower with ardor they incline, 
 
 The petal, stamen, and the pistil, trace 
 
 Of common blossoms or of uiiktu.uii unr ; 
 
 The first well pleased you iii;ii k nitli -jiiiirtul sight, 
 
 And view the last through li"|"- liruM.I,iii- light: 
 
 The one an ancient friend, whusc laci' ,\uu luvc ; 
 
 A stranger one, you must in future prove. 
 
 DELIGHTS OF THE BOTANI; 
 
 What sudden pleasure, when some object rare, 
 Confined peculiar to one soil and air, 
 More precious far from expectation grown. 
 By some blessed turn upon the sight is thrown ! 
 The pervanche so, with us that never grew, 
 Its long-sought blossom gave to Rousseau's view ; 
 He marks the treasure with an eager glance ! 
 ' Great God ! the pervanche ! ' and his hands advance, 
 Sudden to seize the prey : not more delight 
 Feels the fond lover at his mistress' sight. 
 
 Now nature calls ; and see the rustic meal. 
 New force that gives, suspend a while their zeal. 
 Near the cool bank that winding streamlets lave, 
 Lo ! Bacchus fresh'ning in the Naiad's wave ! 
 The trees a ceiling ; songs the birds afford ; 
 The horizon pictures ; and the sod their board : 
 The cherry rich, the strawberry of the woods. 
 With search successful that their care pursued, 
 The egg, and aprieot of yellow die. 
 And milky bowl, the frugal moal supply ; 
 While, roused to hunger I.y f.,,^ |.l. ;i In ■ ij-k, 
 Their taste no aid from .M< . i k. 
 
 Their songs to Cybelo aijil I i 
 
 With endless youth and .■!,. II. - m .. .inv,i.-d! 
 Thosi- iiiithiii,'- l.:i\ 111-, liiiiiM -I i-\ I ii-iii-ii- i.reath. 
 
 By Vfrilli.U l,,-li...,i, lii.i. ri,|i.i.,lhil 1,1, III, 111. 
 
 They U,|l.,n:,.,l, i,fi:ill- tl,., Im.u.i.II, .-s .-„uicc, 
 The world's great secrets, and of Nature's course. 
 
 THE HERBABIl'M.— NATUBAL mSTOBT. — ISSTISCT. 
 
 At length they rise, and o'er the fields anew 
 From wood to mead or hill their search pursue ; 
 At night the hei-hal, on its ready leaves. 
 Each conquered plant triumphantly receives. 
 Yet to these humbler tribes has prudent Heaven 
 Imperfect life and narrowed instinct given. 
 The brute creation, nearer to our own. 
 Less strangers too, with happier ease are known. 
 Whether as subjects or as foes they live, 
 Or with their friendship their attendance give, 
 Their tribes unnumbered trace with curious eye, 
 Whether in woods or darksome dens they lie ; 
 The light-winged guests, that in your branches perch, 
 Or peaceful life, in fold or hamlet, search ; 
 Those that attack, or wait the sylvan fight. 
 Those beneath earth, or on the mountain's height. 
 And while thy search their arts and manners sees, 
 * A famous restaurateur of Paris. 
 
 Mark well the small and delicate degrees, 
 
 Where changing instinct, through each living link. 
 
 Or towers to man, or to the plant shall sink. 
 
 With added gust such' pleasures wouldst thou taste. 
 In one small circle be these objects placed ; 
 Three adverse reigns, astonished to unite. 
 At once shall give their subjects to thy sight : 
 AMiere all their own repository find, 
 Ranged in departments, or in classes joined ; 
 The world and nature, in abridgment shown, 
 Of endless pleasure make the source thy own. 
 
 THE COLLECTIOS OF A CABINET OF MISEBiLS. 
 
 But check the progress of thy vasty toil ; 
 First choose thy objects from thy native soil. 
 Where, daily seen, they own thee for their lord. 
 And, born with thee, shall greater joy afford : 
 Of varied mines, in earth's recesses spread, 
 Take the bitumen from its native bed ; 
 Each soil, and salt ; the stone, whose form contains 
 A secret fire, that preys upon its veins ; 
 Each colored metal, and the crystal's pride. 
 The rock's rich offspring, lucid as the tide ; 
 The clay, whose substance when the flames shall try, 
 For polished lustre with the glass may vie ; 
 The hardening wood, its native form that leaves. 
 And from the wave a stony coat receives ; 
 Whether the slime around its surface grow. 
 Or to its pores petrific moisture go : 
 In short, each object, that derives its birth 
 From fire and air, from water and from earth. 
 
 OF MOSSES, ETC. — VABEC ; LICHEN J 
 
 More curious still, more anxious to explain 
 The fertile stores of vegetable reign. 
 There let nu- -t, in iirinil unim, =prc.id. 
 The sea-l".rii mnv -Imu ii- ,-,,l,ir,-,l lirml ; 
 The crecpiii- li,l„'i., tlu.l r,,r IViimlly :iid 
 Clings to th., l,iiik, b,.nr:ith the niikeii ,4i.ade ; 
 The potent agaric, to wounds applied. 
 That stops the gushing of the sanguine tide ; 
 Whose spongy substance to its bosom takes 
 The crackling spark, as from the flint it breaks. 
 With them the nenuphar, from humid site. 
 The bane of pleasure, foe to Love's deliglit ; 
 Those plants and boughs, that swarming life contain. 
 The wondrous subjects of each rival reign. 
 
 The living world, that equal change may know, 
 Shall greater charms from happy contrast show : 
 One spot shall throw upon the astonished eye 
 The royal eagle, ami lli, |,imii.v fly ; 
 Those birds that lin, ili, , ii, liiu -m^i.ns stay ; 
 Tliose that ere wiiitrr uiiu Hn " H'.-'ld away : 
 The shapeless bear, tin' i,i,iiii,k',- giii,.'eful height. 
 The slow-paced turtle, and the squirrel light : 
 The beast whose sides a shelly crust defends : 
 Or o'er whose back, in vaulted form, it bends : 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 288 
 
 Horo (lilToront soalos tho fish and snake denote : 
 Hero tho rough hedgehog, and tho rat's smooth coat: 
 The fish whose small gondola stems the tide : 
 The oraiio that sails without the magnet's guide : 
 The mimie parrot, and tho ape's address, 
 That sounds or gestures of mankind express : 
 Those tribes that stray not from their dark abode, 
 And those which ramble from their home abroad : 
 Tliose birds with oars, and fish with wings supplied, 
 Tho doubtful citizens of earth or tide. 
 
 Ye countless insects here shall refuge gain, 
 You, tho last link of Nature's living chain j 
 Whether you mount on wings, or humbly creep. 
 Swarm in tho air, or wanton on the deep. 
 
 Ucro then each worm, each caterpillar place ; 
 His son, gay upstart, blushing at his race ; 
 Insects of every rank, of every die. 
 That dwell in marshes, or in Oow'rcts lie ; 
 Or those that, digging for a secret dome. 
 Deep in the budding leaf have fixed their home ; 
 The fruit-tree's foe j or worm, more murderous still. 
 Whose living folds the human bosom fill ; 
 The spider, too, whose webs our wall o'erspread ; 
 The fly that builds, or spins tho fine-drawn thread ; 
 Those in whose golden web their tomb is wove ; 
 Those that in secret light the torch of love ; 
 The fly whose life throughout the year extends. 
 Or given at morning with tho evening ends ; 
 
 WOSDBRFCL CONTRIVANCES BESTOWED OS INSECTS. 
 
 Come, all ye tribes that through tho world are 
 strewed. 
 Whose endless race is without end renewed ; 
 In all the lustre of your riches dressed, [crest, 
 
 Your flowers, your pearls, your rubies, and youi 
 Those guardian sheaths, those horny cases, bring 
 That shield the texture of your fine-wrought wing ; 
 Those mirrors, prisms, with labored beauty graced, 
 Y'our well-formed eyes by skilful Nature placed ; 
 Some thickly sown their microscopes display. 
 While some, like telescopes, extend the ray. 
 Show me the distaff, auger, and tho dart. 
 Arms for your combat, or the tools of art ; 
 Those wary horns, that, branching o'er tho eye, 
 With careful feet the doubtful pathway try ; 
 Y'our drums and clarions nearer let me know. 
 That speak whene'er with rage or love you glow ; 
 Or leading heroes to the embattled ground, 
 To charge, to danger, and to conquest, sound ; 
 Each secret spring, each organ, let me trace, 
 That mock the proudest arts of human race ; 
 Completest toil ! from endless source that rose. 
 Each worth a world ; for each tho Godhead shows. 
 
 Thy zeal to gain what Nature s walk bestows. 
 At each new conquest still more ardent grows. 
 A plant or stone that meets the searching eye, 
 A smiling flow'ret, or some long-sought fly, 
 Now clnirms shall give ; and now, by fancy's aid. 
 Each class, each province, to the mind portrayed. 
 That long the new-found treasure to receive, 
 Througii all her works shall Nature's image give. 
 Tho eye, the thought, shall rove in endless change 
 With busy fancy ever on tho range ; 
 E'en when the wintry frosts thy steps retain. 
 Eager she hastens to the well-known plain ; 
 O'er mead and wood she wings her rapid flight, 
 Till, rising sudden on her watchful sight. 
 Some pebble rare, or shrub, or blushing flower. 
 Chains her attention, and suspends her power. 
 
 COLLECTIONS 
 
 IBAL niSTORT FORM 
 
 And when compelled thy loved retreat t<> leave. 
 What added pleasure shall the country give. 
 When every landscape to the mind is brought 
 By fund remembrance and illusive thought ! 
 Here tho rough billows, as they ebbed or flowed, 
 Some fucus rare or unknown shell bestowed ; 
 There from the bosom of the teeming ground 
 The fragment rare of some rich mine was found ; 
 Or there some insect spread the fluttering wing. 
 Or, yet unseen, the gaudy child of Spring, 
 Some painted butterfly, with eager haste, 
 Seized on some flower, was in your closet placed. 
 That, to his kindred joined, filled up the space 
 That vacant stood, and made complete his race. 
 
 Where-.i t!, u . . i i . n ,. i..,, shall go ; 
 
 Yrtn„tl,r„ In, ,.11,,^ .,.,. ,in4 t.u,l. Lc.toW : 
 ],rt li:i|.|.\ n|,l,r I !,|..|i,;h \..U1' cluSUtS roigU ; 
 
 llui iiM-i 'liniilil ti<;iiiii--. - 1 inple Still and plain, 
 
 ThrcMigh every class anil every canton live. 
 Each bird and beast, with careful eye, observe ; 
 Let each his posture and his air preserve, 
 Ilis look and mien ; perched on the branchy height, 
 'I'he bird should seem to meditate his flight ; 
 The weasel show me, with his roguish face, 
 Ilis lengthened body, and of narrow space ; 
 Tho fox, with downward look and wily air, 
 Some secret ambush in his thoughts should bear. 
 To nature thus new beauty shalt thou give. 
 That after death shall even seem to live. 
 
 Three reigns distinct shall thus confess thy sway, 
 Where new-found tribes for daily entrance pray. 
 
 Those monstrous sights that nature violate 
 Leave to tho closets of the rich and great ; 
 The misshaped foetus ; forms with double head 
 Those bones gigantic ; and the abortion dread. 
 Betwixt nonentity and being bred : 
 The mummy, too, in nature's guise that laid 
 Disputes with Death tho conquest ho has made. 
 
284 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Hadst thou some favorite bird, some dog beloved, 
 Through all your griefs that has his friendship 
 
 proved '! 
 ! ne'er consign him to earth's darksome womb 
 With rites that mock the honors of the tomb ; 
 This simple refuge to his relics give ; 
 In your Elysium graceful let him live ! 
 
 THE author's cat ; CELEBRATED BY LA FONTAINE. 
 
 There would I see him, with thy form, displayed, 
 Thou whom La t'ontaine's song had deathless made, 
 Felina, dear, that, single to thy race. 
 Showed the dog's fondness with thy native grace ; 
 Whose wiles or pride, with tender softness joilJod, 
 Lost the self-love imputed to thy kind ; 
 There would I see thee, as before I 've seen, 
 With downy covering, and with graceful mien. 
 Affecting absence, or pretending sleep. 
 Watching the fly, or on the rat to leap. 
 Whose deadly tooth shall never author spare, 
 But gnaw alike Du Bartas ^ or Voltaire ; 
 Or as I 've seen thee, with persuasive art, 
 Purr round my dinner, and demand thy part ; 
 With vaulted back, and tail that waved aloft, 
 Bring to my soothing hand thy ermine soft ; 
 Or else disturb, with thousand wanton bounds. 
 The hand and pen from which thy praise redounds. 
 
 Beauties of the country. Hints to the poets of nature. 
 Horace. City poets, affectation of. Minuteness of de- 
 scription ridiculous. Nature, ditTvi-ent scL-ni*s of. South 
 America. Africa, horrors ..| Wu,- , i,, ,, (i,.. ,, ,|, 
 Landscai)e, man the life of. i: 
 tion of. Beasts, qualitfes .it. II I ,, \ , 
 
 visiting his uative country. I'.n , .1. ., i ij.n,,,, .,i < m,-,' . 
 of. Country, author's wisli fur. IVtH Uiii-ctioiis to 
 Virgil, address to. Conclusion. 
 
 ViaiODS CHARMS OP THE LANDSCAPE. 
 
 Yes ! the rich aspect of the flood and fields 
 An endless source of briglitest landscape yields ; 
 I joy to see the skies, in azure pride, 
 Keflected gayly in the azure tide ; 
 The crystal waves in lucid sheets expand, 
 Or wind in streamlets through the grassy land ; 
 The darksome foliage of the wood profound ; 
 The corn that sheds a yellow gleam around ; 
 The valley green, with smiling produce gay, 
 The deepened concave of its form display ; 
 Those hills that lift their summit to the skies, 
 While at their feet a boundless champaign lies ; 
 As round the world the sun majestic goes. 
 And o'er each scene a golden coloring throws. 
 
 BLESSEDNESS OF THE RURAL POET. — I.VSIPIDITV OF IMITA- 
 
 Blessed is the man, whose soul enjoys the sight ; 
 But he more blessed who sings the prospect bright. 
 The scattered charms of forest and of mead 
 Attend the summons of his tuneful reed, 
 ^ A French poet, statesman, and captain ; now forgotten. 
 
 ■ DELILLE. 
 
 And gather in his song ; whose rival art 
 With Nature's self shall equal joy impart. 
 Begone, ye puny bards, whose irksome lay 
 T\Tiat oft was better ^aid again must say ! 
 Insipid rhymers ! has your hackneyed strain 
 Not yet culled all the sweets of Flora's reign ? 
 Still must we hear the bounding of your sheep? 
 Still to the murmurs of your streamlet sleep? 
 Still must the wanton zephyr kiss the rose. 
 Whose opening buds their blushing tints disclose ? 
 When shall the echo of your numbers cease, 
 And let the sylvan echo sleep in peace ? 
 So poor the strains, that Nature's charms rehearse ! 
 
 THE RtJRAL POBTRT OF HORACE EDLOGIZED. 
 
 ! how does Horace, in appropriate verse. 
 And varied numbers teeming with delight. 
 Describe the poplar and the pine-tree's height. 
 Beneath whose pale and darksome boughs entwined, 
 A hospitable shade the swain shall find, 
 And quaffing sit ; while bubbling at his side 
 The rolling streamlet winds its rapid tide ! 
 Nature with him in endless bloom behold ! 
 Thy song, scarce born, as Nature's self is old ! 
 
 To paint the country, it must first be loved ; 
 Our city poets, by its charms unmoved, 
 Whose courtly muse has rarely left the town. 
 Paint what they 've never loved, nor ever known : 
 
 ! ne'er did they, 'midst soft retreats, inhale 
 Eve's gclitl air, or morning's dewy gale ! 
 '■'■■I'l l"if llii'ii- >I0IL^ and every lino betrays 
 
 1 li' 'in -liiiiil ih-miised in sylvan lays. 
 
 ^^ ii!i hui>li liaiiil, in richest words, they spread 
 llie crystal streamlet and the enamelled mead ! 
 Unless Aurora shine an opal throne, 
 No morning beam upon the East is shown ! 
 Sapphires and purple must her dress compose. 
 And every flower she sheds a diamond grows ! 
 They call on Tyre, Potosi, to supply 
 The jonquil's color, or the rose's dye ; 
 And Nature, best in simple garb arrayed. 
 Must groan in loads of silver and brocade ; 
 While pearls and rubies o'er her dress are placed, 
 Their hand disfigures what it should have graced ! 
 
 ANECDOTE OF ZEDXIS AND THE PAINTER. 
 
 Painters and bards, by kindred ties allied. 
 Let Zeuxis' words your several efforts guide : 
 An upstart painter, emulous of fame. 
 Would once portray the laughter-loving dame. 
 With fruitless zeal ; no happy lines e.'ipressed 
 The fleshy roundness of the well-formed breast ; 
 The bust harmonious and voluptuous arms. 
 Her lovely features and her graceful charms ; 
 But gold and jewels shone with lavish cost. 
 And Venus lay in loads of drapery lost. 
 ' Rash fool, forbear,' the impatient Zeuxis said ; 
 ' Instead of beauty, thou hast wealth portrayed.' 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 285 
 
 UlNCTK POKTS SATIRIZED. 
 
 Yc tastoloss barda ! to you the worlds belong : 
 That wliioh you lovo alone should grace your song : 
 Yet still descend not, in your moan pursuit, 
 Tliose biirds to imitate, whoso care miiiuto 
 Prefers Linna<u3 to the Mantuan awain, 
 And gives to trifling beauties lavish pain ; 
 That to tho microscope their object bring, 
 And waste their pencils on an insect's wing. 
 So novice artists, that with labored care, 
 In female charms, describe the nails and hair. 
 Leave brighter beauties by their art untraccd. 
 To paint a mole, beneath the bosom placed. 
 
 RURAL POETS SUOPLD GIVE BRBADTII TO TUKIR PICTFRKS. 
 
 Enlarge thy style : if o'or by morning's light, 
 
 Withghlll.'ri'Xt.H.l-l r tin , tiNi-- ll.i-ht, 
 
 Thint- ryr \,A< «,i,mI. i-I ' '■' i ", — 
 
 Whuri- > 1- an, -1 1 < . I Iiuw; 
 
 Where uiil:n,a- -l^i-, -i ,i:J'""- ''"' >■>> " :~<^"'h 
 Or flocks unnumbered whiten all the pluiii ; — 
 Or traced tho limits of th' horizon blue, 
 Or circling hills, that fly before the view ; 
 Such bo your model : let your talents give 
 These mingled beauties through your song to live. 
 
 Tho practised painter may, with skilful art. 
 Bid striking objects from the back-ground start. 
 Wouldst thou for nature all thy efforts use, 
 Let not a random view these objects choose : 
 Let untaught fools, in fancied skill, declare 
 That nature still is regularly fair ! 
 Yon trees majestic, tapering to tho skies. 
 Let them (I grant) beneath your pencil rise : 
 Hut yonder oak, whose trunk so wildly bends, 
 .^nd o'er the dcscrt-rook its arms extends ; 
 Whose boughs fantastic, and of foliage rude. 
 And shapeless mass with verdure thinly strewed, 
 Their rougher beauty to the sight display, 
 lias equal claim to live amidst your lay. 
 
 APOSTROPHE TO SATCRB. — HER rSTntING VARIKTV. 
 
 0, Nature ! power sublime, yet lovely still. 
 That e'en her horrors can with beauty fill ; 
 That now the bosom melts to soft delight, 
 Now, changed her aspect, shivers with affright ; 
 Now, young ami K"y. sho treads tho laughing vale, 
 Her .•i|in;i,liiiL' L-;ii iii.iit^ fluttering to the galo, 
 While li'iii ::i'ii 111- f he dewy colors flow. 
 And flc.u. ,~ iiml ilhh- liiueath her footsteps grow ; 
 The morning sunheains from her smile arise ; 
 And in her breath the balmy zephyr sighs ; 
 The tuneful song, that bids the wood rejoice. 
 And murmuring streamlet, are her changing voice; 
 Now, o'or some wild enthroned, 'midst mountains 
 Whore wintry stores in icy heaps appear, [drear. 
 With antique pines her towering brow is crowned. 
 That in the whirlwind clash with awful sound, 
 Whilst round her sides tho foamy torrent streams. 
 And in her eye the fiery lightning gleams. 
 
 Her voice, in thunders or volcanoes dread, 
 bids tho earth tremble to its loweat bed ! 
 
 DlFriClLTT Of BBSDBRISO JC8T1CE TO THE BEAITIES OP 
 
 Ah ! who shall seize, in all their varied light. 
 The changing beauty of her prospects bright? 
 Or paint her works, with pomp sublimely crowned, 
 From the high mountain to tho vale profound ; 
 From the proud woods, whoso heads the sky assail. 
 To tho low violet that loves the dale ! 
 
 TROPICAL SCBSERV. — THE AMAZOX, OROSOCO, AND 
 LA PLATA.— THE ANDES. 
 
 Now let thy muse, where grander scenes invite, 
 O'or tho wide ocean wing her daring flight 
 To other climes, beneath whoso fervid airs 
 A richer garb each circling season wears ; 
 'Midst the bright lustre of this ardent zone, 
 Let Amazon and Oronociue be shown, 
 Tho mount's bold suns, that rival ocean's wave. 
 As half the universe they proudly lave, [hurled. 
 And drain those summits, wliencc their stream is 
 The vastest heights, that tower above the world ! 
 And near who.se sides, in brightest verdure dressed, 
 liirds, out of number, bathe the downy breast. 
 
 ■HE GREAT RIVERS OF SOUTH AMERICA AXD 
 
 Now, slow and deep, in state majestic spread, 
 Calm glides the water o'er its silent bed ! 
 Now rush the billows through each trembling shore, 
 Fatiguing echo with the dreadful roar ! 
 Their weight enormous, and their thundering sound. 
 Seems hurled from heaven, not rolling on the 
 
 l»;M,,t II I ', tlieir various birds and flowers, 
 
 Wli 1,1 1 11,1 < in gay luxuriance showers ; 
 
 Tl,- I' i 1 I I — 1,1 iif the boundless wood, 
 
 t;i(,omy as night, lliat since the world has stood ; 
 Those trees and fields, that law nor master own ; 
 Those orchards bright, that grew from chance 
 
 United flocks, and corn that ne'er was sown ! 
 Paint all the wonders of this distant land. 
 Where Nature towers, majestically grand ! 
 Compared to which, our Apennine 's a hill ; 
 Our forests, copse ; our Danube, but a rill ! 
 
 NATURAL FEATURES OF AFRICA. — SANDS. — SERPENTS. — 
 
 Now turn thy numbers from these fertile lands, 
 .■\nd paint the mournful space of Afric sands ! 
 Where arid fields, that never verdure knew. 
 Or drank of limpid stream or falling dew, 
 Burnt to the quick, forever thirst in vain, 
 And fruitful life seems exiled from the plain ! 
 Let the hot sky and burning soil conspire 
 T illume your pictures, and your numbers fire : 
 Let the dread hydra, hissing through your song, 
 In furrows roll his scaly rings along ; 
 Or frightful dragon raise his crested head, [spread; 
 While swelling vanom through his veins shall 
 
RURAL POETRY.- 
 
 Andli-ht his cnl.ir, ;,t t!T ,,ili "I .lay : 
 
 Nijwk-t llir liniii.' i"M"l '■ '"'ai- 
 
 Theuiillll.;.! .-;n,.lalnhl-l !':,■ -I., i kri.wl air ; 
 Roused by the swct-iJiug sti.iii], i..t tigers fell 
 And keen hyenas join the dismal yell, 
 Or the proud lion, in his awful roar, 
 Through echoing woods his lordly fury pour. 
 
 Thence guide the Muse where earth's last confine 
 lies, [rise, 
 
 Where winter dwells, and where the north-winds 
 And pour incessant from their stormy seat 
 The fleecy snow-fall and the cutting sleet, 
 Or balls congealed that drive with rattling sound, 
 And fall on earth, and from the earth rebound. 
 The slty's cold horror let the Muse detail. 
 Till f;ini-v -!iii.l'lrr nt the freezing tale. 
 
 Yete\<n' I t ;r i;race appears, 
 
 WhevL \\ I y [lalace rears ; 
 
 Whose l.iniii-lail -I'll , III richest colors bright, 
 Those prisuis display, tliat dazzle on the sight, 
 In thousand changing hues reflected play. 
 And break the splendor of the solar ray ; 
 Where from the r.i.li^ thf i.i.O.- depend, 
 And moving lustre- will, iln i-im-i ne bend ; 
 Where glittering rn:i(. i he 1 1 enil.l in^- reeds surround, 
 
 UilZ/.lill- r\|,;.ll-r ' nil. ill Hiln.r ilrSrl'twidC 
 
 Their ra|,..| .:i, ll., ,. ,-| l.;i;-l:iii,| guidC, 
 
 While -liiliiii; ll,4hlly, a- the i ii nil. 'el's fly, 
 
 Their floating i-eins m loose disorder lie. 
 
 THE TEMPERATE ZONE 
 
 From these dread prospects let the Muse a 
 
 Flyt., that .h.a,.r-|,„t,lirr nan.,, plain. 
 
 And trllllielatr l,i> , /, . lihai ainliy the skios 
 There let her sin^' uui iulmiIuus, shrubs, and 
 The tuneful thicket and the murmuring floo( 
 Our blushing fruits, that softer colors grace. 
 Our humbler flocks, and Flora's modest race 
 And, poor of plumage, but of richest voice, 
 Again let Philomel our woods rejoice. 
 
 Suffice it not to paint the scenes you view ; 
 As well as paint them, you must interest too. 
 Oft be spectators in your pictures seen, 
 And frequent actors tread your sylvan scene. 
 Let man see man in every line you trace ; 
 The world's chief honor is the human race. 
 Deprived of man, the first and best abode 
 Is a lone temple, that demands its God. 
 But life and culture, movement and delight. 
 
 And Am 
 Onynn.i 
 Place Ihui. 
 
 Let dancing swains the flowery valley tread. 
 And bathing nymphs adorn the river's bed. 
 That trembling still, and flUed with vain alarms. 
 Scarce to the wave will thrust their secret charms ; 
 At every noise they start with wild afi'right, 
 Blush at themselves, and dread each other's sight. 
 Some Faun be near, that eyes the lucid tide, 
 And rashly draws the leafy fence aside. 
 
 Should man be wanting to thy rustic strain, 
 Supply his absence with the bestial train ; 
 Whether through woods, in savage pride, they roam. 
 Or, with mankind, prefer the peaceful home ; 
 Those that a- y lerai- fii. n 1- i.r slaves attend, 
 
 That rise r.l i , i-ive bend ; 
 
 That cowan 1- I . i ■ mhardydeed; 
 
 Whose wool ana\ ■ ii- ni uhc-r milk may feed. 
 If those which Berghcm's laugliing scenes disclose. 
 Or from the tints of Wouverman arose, 
 Can interest give ; shall not the poet's lyre 
 T.. e.|iial uariiilli and .■.inal -kill aspire? 
 Pnu.l llnai a- H.ll ; -111..- i.a.ly at thy voice, 
 
 Th,. -yU all. -. Ill ixhaii-lless choice. 
 
 But wait the tuueh uf thy prulific hand, 
 
 To spring to life, and animate the land. 
 
 If chance the leaves should quiver in the breeze, 
 
 Trembling like them, the starting roebuck flees, 
 
 As lightning prompt, and quicker than the eye ; 
 
 In peaceful state the cattle grazing nigh, 
 
 Swell the rich udder, pendent to the ground. 
 
 While close beside their sportive offspring bound. 
 
 But further on, if chance the echoing horn, 
 
 Or female neigh, along the gale be borne, 
 
 The impatient courser leaps the lofty mound. 
 
 Whose thorny barrier skirts his pasture round ; 
 
 In all the pride of beauty and of blood, 
 
 lie seeks the coolness of the well-known flood ; 
 
 Or, gay and wanton, leaves the plain behind, 
 
 And snuEfs the females in the passing wind ; 
 
 Scarce do his feet the tender herbage graze ; 
 
 His mane, uplifted, undulating plays ; 
 
 Love, youth, and pride, each graceful movement fill; 
 
 Ills beating steps resound to Fancy still ! 
 
 HOW TO MAKE ANIMALS MOST INTERESTING. — BOFFOS'S 
 
 Still greater interest would thy efforts show ? 
 Let every beast with human passions glow ; 
 Give them our hopes, our pleasure, and our pain. 
 And one link nearer draw the social chain. 
 In vain would Buffon, jealous of their fame. 
 Still inconsistent, bear the aspiring claim ; 
 Would vainly see them, as a fair machine. 
 Whose grosser life is moved by springs unseen ; 
 For in his pa^e, that Nature's sons inspire, 
 Ea ill ;;aiii- a in.iih.ii of Promethean fire. 
 \\ Lai I. Mil ll' .' liiii nt in the dog ho shows ! 
 A\ 111, I il" ili [Hi lie on the ox bestows ! 
 Wliil'j n us'jd tii il'-'iy, proud of what he bears. 
 
SDMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 287 
 
 The stcL-d with man the prido of conquest shares, 
 Each beast by him in native rights enthroned, 
 Its 90|)orat« law ond separate manner owned. 
 Did not the muse, that sung in earliest ago, 
 Leave rieli examples for the future sage ? 
 She who of old, through all her pieturod plan. 
 To gods raised mortals, and the beast to man. 
 See generous chiefs, in lIomei'*8 deathless song, 
 Harangue their coursers in th' embattled throng ; 
 Onoo more Ulysses' dog his master eyes. 
 And, moving sight ! he lieks his feet and dies. 
 
 INTBREST OIVBS TO ANIUALS BV LlCBKTirS AND VIBGIL. - 
 TUB COMPANIONLBSS STKBtt. — THE TWO Bl'LLS. 
 
 Too eloquent Lucretius, how thy song, 
 And thine, Virgil, lead the mind along ! 
 How, when ye celebrate the bestial train. 
 Ye bid it yield to pleasure or to pain ! 
 Now with the hind soft pity's tear 1 shed, 
 And loose the steer, that weeps his comrade dead : 
 Two chiefs, whose rule the circling herds obey. 
 Now rush with fury to the dreadful fray ; 
 No more like bulls appearing to the sight. 
 But haughty kings, whom rival views excite, 
 .^rmed for their Helen and imperial state. 
 Urged by ambition, and inflamed with hate. 
 Their foreheads stern with Jireful fury clash, 
 And the full dewlaps on each other lash ; 
 While mingled notes of love and vengeance pour. 
 Heaven's concave echoes with the sullen roar ; 
 The gazing herds in awful silence stay, 
 Till conquest tell them which they must obey. 
 
 Turn from this view of warfare and affright, 
 Where softer scenes to softer thoughts invite. 
 Yon mournful heifer scarce has learned to boast 
 A mother's fondness, ere her offspring 's lost. 
 Through all the mazes of the darksome grove 
 Her voice demands this early pledge of love ; 
 Her plaintive cries from liill and rock rebound ; 
 He only utters no responsive sound. 
 No more the cooling shade or waters sped. 
 In soothing murmurs, o'er their pebbled bed ; 
 No more the shrub, embathod in morning rain, 
 Or freshened grass, where dewdrops still remain. 
 Can tempt her now ; her footsteps still explore 
 The well-known fold, or trace the forest o'er ; 
 Again o'er each she strays with plaintive moan. 
 Again returns, despairing and alone. 
 Where beats the heart so hardened as to view 
 Her tender sorrow, and not feel it too? 
 
 Even to the tree, the water, and the flower. 
 The poet's art, in self-<reated power, 
 A feigned existence, fancied soul, may give. 
 Where all concurs to make th' illusion live. 
 See round the sod those waters fondly twine. 
 Those boughs eiubraco, and yonder circling vino 
 Its amorous folds around the elm-troo coil. 
 
 And shun the contact of a hostile soil. 
 
 Let the fond instinct of the plant or tide 
 
 To flight.) sublime your hardy fictions guide : 
 
 Lit tlic young bud the tepid zephyr woo, 
 
 .\nd dread the season when the north-winds blow ; 
 
 Yon thirsty lily, ere its foliage shrink, [drink ; 
 
 Poured by thy hand, the wished-fur stream should 
 
 To yonder tree its right direetion give. 
 
 While yet its docile boughs the bent receive ; 
 
 Or let the trunk admire a grafted fruit 
 
 Yon temler shoot riilundant foliage bears ; 
 Yet check the knife in pity to his years. 
 Thanks to your skill, surveyed in Fancy's eye. 
 In every tree an equal I descry ; 
 Its good or ill my feeling bosom tries ; 
 E'en for a plant my sorrows learn to rise ! 
 
 LNTKBEST OIVEX TO SCBSES BY TUB ASSoaATmSS Of cniLD- 
 MOOD, BTC. 
 
 Sometimes these scenes, in native beauty bright. 
 From fund remembrance gather new delight. 
 Rich through your strains each happy spot appears: 
 Yet sliouMst thou add, • There rose my infant years; 
 There broke the light upon my early view ; 
 There first my beating heart to pleasure flew ; ' 
 How does my soul the reenllcction prize ! 
 
 Back to the dM mi 11 m, fmrv flies. 
 
 When, twenty \ n • i i :tW.ence passed. 
 
 Again I saw rm . ,- . < .( ia<t. 
 
 Scarce o'er Limagna's plain had Jlout-d'or's 
 height 
 In the dim back-ground gleamed upon my sight. 
 My heart beat quick : no more my eye surveyed 
 The verdant upland or the lowly glade ; 
 My soul impatient, that outstripped his speed. 
 Accused the slowness of the rapid steed, 
 And, onward flying, called the dearer spot 
 Near to my heart, and ne'er to be forgot : 
 At length arrived, wherever roved my eyes. 
 Some fond remembrance still would love to rise. 
 There stood the tree, that zephyrs gently tanned. 
 And swept my castles tract'tl upnn the >aod ; 
 Here, too, the stone my iiiiiiii im-. i lin m. [anew. 
 Skimmed o'er the Ink. . ,. i i . . i , i -kimincd 
 What raptured bliss tlii^n , ,: . , ,,, -l„wed, 
 
 When first embracing, \ilalu iji> i,.u , ..pillowed. 
 The hoary swain that staid my early tread, 
 The nurse whose milk my infant lips had fed. 
 And the sago pastor that my childhood led ! 
 Oft, too, I cried, ' Ye scenes, in beauty dressed, 
 Where my first years my first desires expressed. 
 That saw mo born, that marked me as I grew. 
 Ah ! where the pleasures which my childhood knew ? ' 
 
 Lot not the pleasing theme engross my strain ! 
 Come, then, yo painters of the varied plain. 
 Present those scenes that claim your fondest love, 
 And through them all let gay existence move. 
 
RURAL POETRY. — DELILLE. 
 
 1 let contrast's powerful aid be tri( 
 Place Vice and Innocence on adverse side ; 
 To sights of terror softer views oppose, 
 And sylvan pleasures to the city woes. 
 
 PARIS. — ITS CONTRASTS. — THE LODVUE — PBIDE AN 
 
 From yonder uplands, on whose sloping side 
 The domes of Paris rise in marble pride, 
 While o'er its temples vast your glances stray, 
 And stately Louvre, — shall your bosom say : 
 * For thy amusement, queen of cities round, 
 Are arts and wealth in brightest union found. 
 Celestial music, finely-chiselled forms, 
 And deathless works, that native genius warms.' 
 Yet soon forgetful of the specious view, [too ; 
 
 Thou*l£ add: 'There pride and meanness flourish 
 On every side, and placed in contrast near, 
 The pangs of wealth and misery appear ; 
 AVhilo countless crimes, that many a land supplies, 
 Together brought, in fermentation rise : 
 Of glunniy ini^-n. disdaining lawful love, 
 Sec :.!i<l l'i--n-t t(i \ n-iuus pleasure move ; 
 Or I'll' I. ,-^' li-iiiui'b I . maddening through the soul, 
 Sh)iii> n III. -ir, 1. .,i mix the poisoned bowl : 
 Here, tuu. in Uiwk.-.^ I.auds, the harlot train, — 
 The shame of Chastity, and Hymen's bane, — 
 In living tombs, where plaintive sickness lies, 
 That cruel Charity has taught to rise, 
 'Midst crowded walls, that reek with tainted breath, 
 Incessant swells the mournful list of death : 
 Here hireling robbers watch th' accomplice band, 
 And ]in*iiit^ jn-nff on public vice must stand : 
 In dail>.'iiii 'bti- <'t ■^unk and haggard eye, 
 The <\-\'- vAir ..'HNK -iri- tlirows the fatal die : 
 What nntr|,..| inlants, in the cradle left. 
 Of mother's l..ve, and father's smile bereft! 
 What secret woes are there ! what hidden guilt ! 
 What tears are she'd ! alas ! what blood is spilt ! ' 
 
 From these sad scenes, that shuddering Nature 
 Let sylvan views relax the sorrowing eyes. [flies, 
 From powerful contrast more inviting grows 
 The shade and stream ; more soft the zephyr blows ; 
 The heart, that shrunk, by city-woes oppressed, 
 Once mure expands itself on Nature's breast ! 
 Thus when to liousseau, in his much-loved shade, 
 In distant view proud Paris stood displayed : 
 ' City of mire, of smoke, and noisy pain, 
 Where Vice ami ^'i^tllt■ iiiidistin;;uished reign ; 
 How blessed tin.' man. w ln'. Ii-.m thy tumults free, 
 
 Then sudden turned, his hiM.iiir \\;ilk> In; si>iiii:lit, 
 Nor broke the silence nf In- i-rn-n ,■ ilimi^lii. 
 
 vhen, alas ! shall he uliuse rural strains 
 
 low t' inhabit and adorn the plains, 
 
 hose scenes where most he would delight? 
 
 ! fields beloved, when will ye bless my sight ? 
 When may I now my peaceful slumbers take ; 
 Now with choice books amuse me as I wake ; 
 Now deck with simple grace my rustic bowers, 
 And idly pass awAy the listless hours ; 
 Drink sweet oblivion of life's careful lot, 
 Unknown to man, and man by me forgot ? 
 
 Let countless figures shine throughout your song; 
 ]\lix gay with sad, the gentle with the strong ; 
 Still let your tone its several objects tell ; 
 For sound and sense together still should dwell. 
 In airy Hues let zephyr lightly blow ; 
 If smooth the stream, smooth let thy numbers flow ; 
 Hear'st thou the torrent roaring from its rock ! 
 Let the loud verse resound the thundering shock ; 
 When the slow oxen labor o'er the plain, 
 At every word should drag the weighty strain ; 
 When the fleet roebuck flies and (tits ihr ;nr, 
 The verse should follow like tin.' Ii,L;liiiiiM-'- -l;irt;. 
 Thus let your song, that runs in nifa-urcd w>{r. 
 Express each movement, and each thought denote. 
 
 DEFECTS OF ffiS SCBJECT. 
 
 Too blessed thy Muse, if verdant wood or mead, 
 Or sunny day, shall animate her reed ; 
 For, when her lay some sylvan rule imparts, 
 Then should she practise her poetic arts ; 
 If bare the precept, she must grace supply ; 
 If sad, enliven ; vulgar, dignify. 
 
 The harsher tone of precept to unbend, 
 Take space for breathing, and thy course suspend ; 
 To cheer thy reader on his weary road, 
 Join to thy rules some well-timed episode. 
 When Homer sings the labor of the fields, 
 A sweet example for this rule he yields ; 
 Oft as the ox achieves the furrowed lino, 
 Drenched, by his master's hand, with purest wine, 
 His goaded sides forget the smarting pain ; 
 Gayly he turns to rustic toils again. 
 Thus let thy muse with sweet digression stray, 
 And smooth, with softened note, her rougher lay ; 
 This done, pursue thy course with eager bent, 
 And trace thy subject to its last extent. 
 
 But why these lengthened counsels shouldst thou 
 Receive one general lesson in their stead ; [need ? 
 Read Virgil's song ! With what harmonious grace 
 Hf calls to sylvan toil th' Ausonian race ! 
 W InrrV'r the rustic scene his pencil tries, 
 'ii iM ;.- the fields themselves his pictures rise ; 
 "'I' IS nature still ; not yonder limpid stream, 
 Where the pale shepherd sees his image gleam, 
 More truly gives us, from its azure breast. 
 The blossomed flowers in which its sides are dressed. 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 Singg ho the swains, their concert or their lores, 
 The Golden Ago through every couplet moves. 
 Read Virgil, then ; blessed if the stmin you love ! 
 IIow wretched ho whom Virgil cannot move ! 
 When in soft sounds, to which the boaom yields, 
 He cries, ' happy sire ! that kept thy fields : * 
 My soul partakes the hoary shepherd's lot, 
 The close ho planted/ and his native cot ; 
 With him I hear the murmurs of the dove, 
 And tho wild-pigeon cooing forth his lovo ; 
 The bee, that buzzes o'er the florid plain, 
 And mountain, vocal with the woodman's strain, 
 And grove and stream ; for ne'er in truer dress 
 Did painter yet fair Nature's form express. 
 But what soft accents on my cars are borne ? 
 'T is Gallus' strains, his Lyooris that mourn. 
 His absent Lycoris ! his notes entreat 
 The piercing ice to spare her tender feet ! 
 
 When first my muse aspired to Nature's praise. 
 
 With strictest care my ravished eye pursued 
 
 Her changing scenes through mountain, mead, or 
 
 Back to thy page my rapt attention came, [wood : 
 
 And saw that thou and Nature were tho same ! 
 
 Forgive my muse, if emulous to raise 
 
 Some scattered foliage, dropping from thy bays. 
 
 Thy song she imitates with hardy zeal, 
 
 And fail to paint what Fancy well can feel ! 
 
 Thy numbers first inspired her earliest flight ; 
 
 They gave no glory, but they gave delight. 
 
 Virgil ! my guide, and god of pastoral lays, 
 
 Note. — The allusion to the Princess Czartorinska, in 
 Canto I. of the prcccaing poem, is best explained by the 
 following extracts from the elegant epistles which passed 
 between the princess and poet. 
 
 To M. PAbb^ DeUUe : ' Forgive me, sir, ifl break in upon 
 your leisure : you must lay the fault upon your reputation 
 and works, that a whole society shnuld address itself to you 
 for the completion of nn otu'ect they have in view. AsseniM 'I 
 together in a small hamlet where we principally nsi!!-, 
 friendship, inclination, consanguinity, and a conformit> < : 
 manners, bind us together; everything concurs to giv. u- 
 a hope that we shall never be sepunU'd. 
 
 Is^in^, u ,..i. 
 
 NutlMU„l.l ;Lil :':. ■ r 
 
 would thr -. i I : 
 
 Grant tho ?mI. 
 
 In ray lovcil ti'M .m ■ 
 And live for books, my 
 
 'Uisr 
 
 treat 
 
 j?ry 
 
 poem of " The < 
 
 factfs of ,1 r , I , |,,; I ,,n one side, Pope, Milton, 
 
 Youn;.', ^ I - . ; I . i;:iritie, and Kousseau ; on the 
 other, I'-ti II !,, \i,Hi II, ^l■■^;^3ta^io, Tasso, and La Fon- 
 taine ; on lilt? ilin-d, >l;i(iame de Sevigni;, iMadarae Ricco- 
 boni^ MuUiunc du lu Fayette, Madame des Iluullt-rea, and 
 Sappho ; and on the fourth, Virgil, Gesner, Gresset, and the 
 AbW Delille. Each side will be accompanied with trees, 
 
 'Thr 
 
 The 1 
 
 lily, with beds of violets 
 *ide ; Petrarch, Anacreon, 
 tie } and Tasso, the laurel. 
 ■ the ; 
 
 V'ung, andUacine: asforthe 
 fourth sui^-. in..- s... i..iy wm dioose for it whatever may ap- 
 pear most a^rcciiblc m tlicir orchards, woods, and meadows-, 
 and each inhabitant will plant some tree or shrub to per- 
 petuate the memory of those authors who have given them 
 a taste for rural life, and thereby contributed to their happi- 
 
 * They only ' 
 their idea, and 
 
 at the foot of the monument, ami the whole hamlet, with 
 one v.>ice, has fixed upon you as its author. We request 
 it as well from your heart as your ingenuity. This homage,. 
 
 of my lonely rock, [shock, 
 rth with Discord's dreadful 
 i-'e and unconfincd, 
 
 ' We beg you, 
 sentiments with which we are, 
 Answer. — ' Mjidame : The 
 
 give credit to the very distinguished 
 
 you have done me the 
 Constantinople, whither 
 
 This is the sole 
 
 uliiudc and Irunquillit}' . 
 » I Uiink it will be suf- 
 
 ' The inscription, as you see, is written in our language, 
 or rather in yours ; it belongs to you, in right of the graces 
 you add to It j and I may say, with Voltaire, 
 
 (It is 
 'I imagine i 
 
 language in which you daily convey 
 
Ilustir §a(lah for .^luiust. 
 
 HOOD'S "RUTH." 
 
 COLLINS'S " FIDELE'S TOMB." 
 
 She stood breast high amid the corn, 
 
 To fair Fidele's grassy tomb 
 
 Clasped by the golden light of morn, 
 
 Soft maids and village hinds shall bring 
 
 Like the sweetheart of the sun. 
 
 Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom, 
 
 Who many a glowing kiss had won. 
 
 And rifle all the breathing Spring. 
 
 On her cheek an autumn flush 
 
 No wailing ghost shall dare appear. 
 
 Deeply ripened ; —such a blush 
 
 To vex with shrieks this quiet grove, 
 
 In the midst of brown was born. 
 
 But shepherd lads, assemble here, 
 
 Like red poppies grown with corn. 
 
 And melting virgins, own their love. 
 
 Round her eyes her tresses fell, 
 
 Nowitl,..va«ilrl, .iK.Il hfre be seen. 
 
 Which were blackest none could tell ; 
 
 N.i -nl.li,,. Ir;„l Hirir ) , igh tly crc w ; 
 
 But long lashes veiled a light 
 
 The lr,i,;,L i;,v- .li;,i| liiiuiit thc grccu, 
 
 That had else been all too bright. 
 
 And .1..-. thy ^r,;,j,. ,vitlj pearly dew : 
 
 And her hat, with shady brim, 
 
 The red-breast oft at evening hours 
 
 Made her tressy forehead dim ; — 
 
 Shall kindly lend his little aid. 
 
 Thus she stood amid the stocks, 
 
 fl'ith hoary moss, and gathered flowers, 
 
 Praising God with sweetest looks : — 
 
 To deck the ground where thou art laid. * * 
 
 Sure, I said. Heaven did not mean 
 
 Each lonely scene shall thee restore. 
 
 Where I reap thou shouldst but glean ; 
 
 For thee the tear be duly shed ; 
 
 Lay thy sheaf adown and come — 
 
 Beloved till life can charm no more ; 
 
 Share my harvest and my home. 
 BLOOMFIELD'S "GLEANER'S SONG." 
 
 And mourned, till pity's self be dead. 
 
 COWPER'S " SHRUBBERY." 
 
 Dear Ellen, your tales are all plenteously stored 
 With the joys of some bride, and the wealth of her 
 Of her chariots and dresses, [lord : 
 
 0, HAPPY shades ! to me unblest. 
 Friendly to peace, but not to me, 
 
 How ill the scene that offers rest, 
 And heart that cannot rest, agree ! 
 
 And worldly caresses. 
 
 
 And servants that fly when she 's waited upon : 
 
 This glassy stream, that spreading pine. 
 
 But what can she boast if she weds unbcloved 7 
 
 Those alders quivering to the breeze. 
 
 Can she e'er feel the joy that one morning I proved. 
 
 Might soothe a soul less hurt than mine, 
 
 When I put on my new gown and waited for John? 
 
 And please, if anything could please. 
 
 These fields, my dear Ellen, I knew them of yore. 
 
 Yet to me they ne'er looked so enchanting before ; 
 
 The distant bells ringing. 
 
 The birds round us singing. 
 
 But fixed, unalterable care 
 
 Foregoes not what she feels within. 
 Shows the same sadness everywhere. 
 And slights the season and the scene. 
 
 For pleasure is pure when affection is won : 
 
 For all that pleased in wood or lawn. 
 
 They told me the troubles and cares of a wife ; 
 
 While peace possessed these silent bowers. 
 
 But I loved him ; and that was the pride of my life, 
 
 Her animating smile withdrawn. 
 
 When I put on my new gown and waited for John. 
 
 Has lost its beauties and its powers. 
 
 He shouted and ran, as he leaped from the stile ; 
 
 The saint or moralist should tread 
 
 And what in my bosom was passing the while ? 
 
 This moss-grown alley, musing slow j 
 
 For love knows the blessing 
 
 They seek, like me, the secret shade, 
 
 Of ardent caressing, 
 
 But not, like me, to nourish woe. 
 
 When virtue inspires us and doubts are all gone. 
 
 Me fruitful scenes and prospects waste 
 
 The sunshine of fortune you say is divine ; 
 
 Alike admonish not to roam ; 
 
 True love and the sunshine of nature were mine. 
 
 These tell me of enjoyments past. 
 
 When I put on my new gown and waited for John. 
 
 And those of sorrows yet to come. 
 
|lo]ic's "c'clliniisov 
 
 forest, 
 
 1 SUBJECT 8TATBD j ORAXVIL 
 
 Thy forests, Windsor ! and thy green rotrciits, 
 At once the monarch's and tho muse's seats, 
 Invite my lays. Bo present, sylvan maids ! 
 Unlock your springs, and open all your shades. 
 Granville commands ; —your aid, muses, bring !— 
 What muso for Granville can refuse to sing ! 
 Tho groves of Eden, vanished now so long, 
 Live in description, and look green in song : 
 These, were my breast inspired with equal flame. 
 Like them in beauty, should be like in fame. 
 Here hills and vales, the woodland and the plain, 
 Uere earth and water, seem to strive again ; 
 Not, chaos-like, together crushed and bruised, 
 liut, as the world, harmoniously confused : 
 Where order in variety we see. 
 And whore, though all things differ, all agree. 
 Hero waving groves a checkered scene display, 
 And part admit and part exclude the day ; 
 .■\s some coy nymph her lover's warm address 
 Xor quite indulges, nor can quite repress : 
 There, interspersed in lawns and opening glades. 
 Thin trees arise that shun each other's shades : 
 Here, in full light th- r.i-.-t ,.|-nnc oxtend : 
 There, wrapt in . I K i 'n ' liill- ascend. 
 
 Even the wild h. a ■ n,ni.lc dyes ; 
 
 And 'midst the a. -r, I lunr.nl i,. lU :.rise, 
 
 That, crowned with tuft.'.l trues and fringing corn. 
 
 Like verdant isles, tho snblo waste adorn. 
 
 Let India boast her plants, nor envy wo 
 
 The weeping amber or the balmy tree, 
 
 While by our oaks the precious loads are borne, 
 
 And realms commanded which those trees adorn. 
 
 Not proud Olympus yields a nobler sight. 
 Though gods a-ssembled grace his towering height. 
 Than what more humble mountains offer here. 
 Where, in their blessings, all those gods appear. 
 See Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crowned ; 
 Here blushing Flora paints the enamelled ground ; 
 Here Ceres' gifts in waving prospect stand. 
 And, nodding, tempt the joyful reaper's hand ; 
 Rich industry sits smiling on the plains, 
 And peace and plenty tell, a Stuart reigns. 
 
 WISDSOB FOREST CSDKR THE SiVAGB WILLIAMS. 
 
 Not thus the land appeared in ages past, 
 A dreary desert, and a gloomy waste ; 
 To savage beasts and savage laws a prey ; 
 
 -VAHiETT OP : And kings more furious and severe than they ; 
 
 i Who claimed tho skies, dispeopled air and floods, 
 ] Tho lonely lords of empty wilds and woods : 
 
 Cities laid waste, they stormed the dens and cave.i - 
 ' For wiser brutes were backward to be slaves. 
 ! What could be free, when lawless beasts obeyed, 
 ' And even the elements a tyrant swayed ? 
 I In vain kind seasons swelled the teeming grain, 
 I Soft showers distilled, and suns grew warm in vain 
 
 The swain witli tears his frustrate labor yields, 
 i And famished dies amidst his ripened fields. 
 
 , TT«A.\Sr OF WILLIAM I. ; ni 
 MAKE TUB SEW FOREST ; 
 
 I What wonder, then, a beast or subject slain 
 Were equal crimes in a despotic reign ? 
 Both, doomed alike, for sportive tyrants bled ; 
 
 j But whilo the subject starved, the beast was fed. 
 
 ! Proml Xinirnd fir-t the h|..™ly chase began ; 
 
 barbarous name, 
 he royal game. 
 uhi-tii.. us swains; 
 :.-<\- ili.ir fanes :' 
 
 The field.sarenivishe.M,. m ih- i 
 
 From men their cities, ;iii I ti ni 
 
 The levelled towns with ur, i- li. ,->, n-1 o'er ; 
 
 The hollow winds thiougli iiuUed tciui.les roar ; 
 
 Round broken columns clasping ivy twined ; 
 
 O'er heaps of ruins stalked the stately hind ; 
 
 Tho fox obscene to gaping tombs retires ; 
 
 And savage bowlings fill the sacred quires. 
 
 Awed by his nobles, by his commons curst. 
 
 The oppressor ruled tyrannic where ho durst ; 
 
 Stretched o'er tho poor and church his iron rod. 
 
 And served alike his vassals and his God. 
 
 Whom even tho Saxon spared, and bloody Dane, 
 
 The wanton victims of his sport remain. 
 But see, the man who spacious regions gave 
 A waste f"r beasts, himself denied a grave ! 
 Stretched on tho lawn, his second hope survey. 
 At once the chaser, and at once the prey : 
 Lo ! Uufus, tugging at the deadly dart, 
 Bleeds in the forest, like a wounded hart. 
 
 Succeeding monarchs heard the subjects' cries, 
 Nor saw displeased tho peaceful cottage rise. 
 Then gathering flocks on unknown mountains fed ; 
 O'er sandy wilds were yellow harvests spread ; 
 
 1 Willianf the Conqueror, though he had sixty-eight royal 
 forests, laid waste a vast tract in Hampshire, filled with vll- 
 lagcs and churches, for the New Forest. « indsor FonMl 
 
RURAL POETRY.- 
 
 The forests wondered at the unusual grain, 
 And secret transport touched the conscious swa 
 Fair Liberty, Britannia's goddess, rears 
 Her cheerful head, and loads the golden years. 
 
 Ye vigorous swains ! while youth ferments your 
 And purer spirits swell the sprightly flood, [blood, 
 Now range the hills, the gameful woods beset, 
 Wind the shrill horn, or spread the waving net 
 When milder Autumn Summer's heat succeeds. 
 And in the new-shorn field the partridge feeds, 
 Before his lord the ready spaniel bounds. 
 Panting with hope, he tries the furrowed grounds ; 
 But when the tainted gales the game betray, 
 Couched close he lies, and meditates the prey ; 
 Secure, they trust the unfaithful field beset. 
 Till, hovering o'er 'em, sweeps the swelling net. 
 Thus (if small things we may with great compare) 
 When Albion sends her eager sons to war, 
 Some thoughtless town, with ease and plenty blest, 
 
 Sudden they sc-i/'' tin- ;iiii:i/r i, ililmceless prize. 
 
 Sec! fromthr 1 I ,, j |ihcasantsprings, 
 
 And mounts, e.xuluiig, -li 1. mi.ii.lumt wings : 
 Short is his joy ; he feels the liery wound. 
 Flutters in blood, and panting beats the ground. 
 Ah ! what avails his glossy varying dyes. 
 His purple crest, and scarlet circled eyes ! 
 The vivid green his shining plumes unfold. 
 His painted wings, and breast that flames with gold ! 
 
 HDNIXNG THE HiRE IS WINDSOR FOREST. — THE FOWLER 
 
 Nor yet, when moist Arcturus clouds the sky. 
 The woods and fields their pleasing toils deny. 
 To plains with well-breathed beagles we repair. 
 And trace the mazes of the circling hare — 
 Beasts, urged by us, their fellow-beasts pursue. 
 And learn of man each other to undo : — 
 With slaughtering guns the unwearied fowler roves, 
 AVhen frosts have whitened all the naked groves. 
 Where doves in flocks the leafless trees o'ershade. 
 And lonely woodcocks haunt the watery glade. 
 He lifts the tube, and levels with his eye ; 
 Straight a short thunder breaks the frozen sky : 
 Oft, as in airy rings they skim the heath. 
 The clamorous lapwings feel the leaden death : 
 Oft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare, 
 They fall, and leave their little lives in air. 
 
 In genial Spring, beneath the quivering shade. 
 Where cooling vapors breathe along the mead. 
 The patient fisher takes his silent standi 
 Intent, his angle trembling in his hand : 
 With looks unmoved, ho Imjic.- tlir ^fnlv firrorl. 
 And eyes the dancing Cull Pi!, . 1. 
 
 Our plenteous streams :i ^ : : i I ^ 
 
 The bright-eyed perch, \\\i\, i- . - Imimi .Iw. 
 
 The silver eel, in shining volumes rolled, 
 The yellow carp, in scales bedropped with gold. 
 Swift trouts diversified with crimson stains, 
 And pikes, the tyrants of the watery plains. 
 
 Now Cancer glows with Phoebus' fiery car : 
 The youth rush eager to the sylvan war. 
 Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest walks surround. 
 Rouse the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound. 
 The impatient courser pants in every vein, 
 And, pawing, seems to beat the distant plain : 
 Hills, vales, and floods appear already crossed. 
 And, ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost. 
 See the bold youth strain up the threatening steep. 
 Rush through the thickets, down the valleys sweep. 
 Hang o'er their coursers' heads with eager speed ; 
 And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed. 
 Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain. 
 The immortal huntress, and her virgin-train ; 
 Nor envy, Windsor, since thy shades have seen 
 As bright a goddess, and as chaste a queen : 
 Whose care, like hers, protects the sylvan reign ; 
 The earth's fair light, and empress of the main. 
 
 Here too, 't is sung, of old Diana strayed, 
 And Cynthus' top forsook for Windsor shade ; 
 Hero was she seen o'er airy wastes to rove, 
 SrrI, till. r\,':\v -|.riiig, OT hauut the pathless grove ; 
 
 II lie, ;ii iiH il with silver bows, in early dawn, 
 
 III I I iiKiii'l \ il -ins traced the dewy lawn. 
 \i' I I'i I. t;i rural nymph was famed, 
 
 'ill ,: 1 ,.11111's ! the fair Lodona named — 
 
 1,. I I I ■ I. 11^' oblivion cast, 
 
 TiiL jlii^^ .-ii.iii ^iiig, and what she sings shall last. 
 
 Scarce could the goddess from her nyinph be known, 
 
 But by the crescent, and the golden zone. 
 
 Slie scorned the praise of beauty, and the care ; 
 
 A belt her waist, a fillet binds her hair : 
 
 A painted quiver on her shoulder sounds, 
 
 And with her dart the flying deer she wounds. 
 
 It chanced, as, eager of the chase, the maid 
 
 Beyond the forest's verdant limits strayed. 
 
 Pan saw and loved ; and, burning with desire. 
 
 Pursued her flight ; her flight increased his fire. 
 
 PURSDIT OF PAN ; LODONA CHANGED INTO A COLD STREAM. 
 
 Not half SO swift the trembling doves can fly. 
 When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky ; 
 Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves, [doves. 
 When through the clouds he drives the trembling 
 As from the god she flew with furious pace, 
 Or as the god, more furious, urged the chase. 
 Now fainting, sinking, pale, the nymph appears ; 
 Now, close behind, his sounding steps she hears ; 
 
 Anil niiw his slnidow reached her as she run. 
 
 ill- iiiiilMW Irii-llRMied by the setting sun ; 
 
 Ami II' i\ 111- -Im Iter breath, with sultry air, 
 
 I'liiit- "11 ihi nr. k. and fans her parting hair. 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 In vain on father Thames she calls for aid, 
 
 Nor could Diana help her injured maid. [vain j 
 
 Faint, breathless, thus she prayed, nor prayed in 
 
 ' Ah Cynthia ! ah! — though banished from thy train, 
 
 Let me, let me, to the shades repair, 
 
 My native shades — there weep, and murmur there.' 
 
 She said, and melting as in tears she lay, 
 
 In a soft silver stream dissolved away. 
 
 The silver stream her virgin coldness keeps, 
 
 Forever murmurs, and forever weeps ; 
 
 Still bears the name the hapless virgin bore. 
 
 And bathes the forest where she ranged before. 
 
 TUB RIVER LODONA (LODDON) DESCRIBED. 
 
 In her chaste current oft the goddess lavos. 
 And with celestial teni-s angmcnt* the waves. 
 Oft in her gloss tlir nm-Mij •',. |.Im i.I .-pies 
 The headlong mull 111 iMiward skies ; 
 
 The watery land.-'' ii i ni woods. 
 
 And absent trees th, 1 1 nimi m i!ir (|„ods ; 
 In the clear azure gleuui the flucks are seen. 
 And floating forests paint the waves with green ; 
 Through the fair scene roll slow the lingering 
 
 streams, 
 Then foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames. 
 
 Thou, too, great father of the British floods ! 
 M'ith joyful pride survey'st our lofty woods ; 
 Where towering oaks their growing honors rear. 
 And future navies on thy shores appear, 
 Not Neptune's self from all her streams receives 
 A wealthier tribute than to thine he gives. 
 No seas so rich, so gay no banks appear. 
 No lake so gentle, and no spring so clear ; 
 Nor Po so swells the fabling poet's lays, 
 M'hile led along the skies his current strays. 
 As thine, which visits Windsor's famed abodes. 
 To grace the mansion of our earthly gods : 
 Nor oil his stars above a lustre show. 
 Like the bright beauties on thy banks below ; 
 Where Jove, subdued by mortal passion still, 
 Might change Olympus for a nobler hill. 
 
 — TUB UBRB.KLIST, ASTRO.SOMER, SCHOLAR, SAGB. 
 
 Happy the man whom this bright court approves. 
 His sovereign favors, and his country loves : 
 Happy next him, who to these shades retires. 
 Whom Nature charms, and whom the Muse inspires : 
 Whom humble joys of home-felt quiet please, 
 Successive study, exercise, and ease. 
 Ho gathers health from herbs the forest yields. 
 And of their fragrant physic spoils the fields : 
 With chcmic art exalts the mineral powers, 
 And draws the aromatic souls of flowers : 
 Now marks the course of rolling orbs on high, 
 O'er figured worlds now travels with bis eye ; 
 Of ancient writ unlocks the learned store. 
 Consults the dead, and lives past ages o'er : 
 Or wandering thoughtful in the silent wood, 
 
 Attends the duties of the wise and good. 
 To observe a mean, bo to himself a friend, 
 ' To follow nature, and regard his end ; 
 Or looks on heaven with more than mortal < 
 Bids his free soul expatiate in the skies. 
 Amid her kindred stars familiar roam, 
 Survey the region, and confess her homo ! 
 Such was the life great Scipio onco admired 
 Thus Attieus, and Trumbal thus, retired. 
 
 Ye sacred Nine ! that all my soul possess, 
 M'hose raptures fire mo, and whoso visions bless. 
 Bear me, bear me to sequestered scenes, 
 The bowery mazes, and surrounding greens ; 
 To Tbames's banks which fragrant breezes fill. 
 Or where ye. Muses, sport on Cooper's Hill. — 
 On Cooper's Hill eternal wreaths shall grow, 
 While lasts the mountain, or while Thames shall 
 I seem through consecrated walks to rove, [fiow. — 
 I hear soft music die along the grove : 
 Led by the sound, I room from shade to shade, 
 By godlike poets venerable made : 
 Here his first lays majestic Denhom sung ; 
 There the last numbers flowed from Cowley's tongue. 
 0, early lost ! what tears the river shed 
 When the sad pomp along his banks was led ! 
 His drooping swans on every note expire. 
 And on his willows hung each Muse's lyre. 
 
 Since fat« relentless stopped their heavenly voice. 
 No more the forests ring, or groves rejoice ; 
 Who now shall charm the shades where Cowley strung 
 His living harp, ond lofty Denham sung 7 
 
 TRIBCTE TO GRASVILLE AND SCBRET. 
 
 But, hark ! the groves rejoice, the forest rings ! 
 Are these revived 7 or is it Granville sings 7 
 'T is yours, my lord, to bless our soft retreats. 
 And call the Muses to their ancient seats ; 
 To paint anew the flowery sylvan scones, 
 To crown the forests with immortal greens. 
 Make Windsor hills in lofty numbers rise. 
 And lift her turrets nearer to the skies ; 
 To sing those honors you deserve to wear, 
 And add new lustre to her silver star. 
 
 Hero noble Surrey felt the sacred rage, 
 Surrey — the Granville of a former age : 
 Matchless his pen, victorious was his lance. 
 Bold in the lists, and graceful in the donee ; 
 In the same shades the Cupids tuned his lyre. 
 To the same nutes, of love and soft desire : 
 Fair Geraldino, bright object of his vow. 
 Then filled the groves as heavenly Mira now. 
 
 UEROES OF Wl.VDSOR CASTLK ; EDWARD ; UBSBT i CHARLES I. 
 — AN.NE. — PEACE. 
 
 0, wouldst thou sing what heroes Windsor bore, 
 What kings first breathed upon her winding shore ; 
 Or raise old warriors, whose adored remains 
 In weeping vaults her hallowed earth contains ! 
 
RURAL POETRY. - 
 
 With Edward's acts adorn the shining page, 
 
 Stretch his long triumphs down through every age : 
 
 Draw monarchs chained, and Crcssi's glorious field, 
 
 Tha lilies blazing on the regal sbield : 
 
 Then, from her roofs when Verrio's colors fall, 
 
 And leave inanimate the naked wall. 
 
 Still in thy song should vanquished France appear, 
 
 And bleed forever under Britain's spear. 
 
 Let softer strains ill-fated Henry mourn, 
 And palms eternal flourish round his urn. 
 Here o'er the Martyr King the marble weeps, 
 And fast, beside him, once-feared Edward sleeps : 
 Whom not the extended Albion could contain, 
 From old Belerium to the northern main. 
 The grave unites ; where e'en the great find rest. 
 And blended lie the oppressor and the oppressed ! 
 
 Make sacred Charles's tomb forever known — 
 Obscure the place, and uninscribed the stone : — 
 0, fact accursed ! what tears has Albion shed ! 
 Heavens, what new wounds ! — and how her old 
 
 have bled ! 
 She saw her sons with purple deaths expire, 
 Her sacred domes involved in rolling fire, 
 A dreadful series of intestine wars, 
 Inglorious triumphs, and dishonest scars. 
 At length great Anna said, ' Let discord cease ! ' 
 She said, the world obeyed, and all was peace ! 
 
 THE GLORIES OF QUEEN ANNE'S KEIGN. — THAMES, ITS RIVERS } 
 ISIS, KENNET, LODDON, COLE, WEY, VANDALIS, LEE, MOLE, 
 
 In that blest moment, from his oozy bed. 
 Old father Thames advanced his reverend head ; 
 His tresses dropped with dews, and o'er the stream 
 His shining horns diffused a golden gleam ; 
 Graved on his urn appeared the moon, that guides 
 His swelling waters and alternate tides ; 
 The figured streams in waves of silver rolled, 
 And on her banks Augusta rose in gold ; 
 Around his throne the sea-born brothers stood. 
 Who swelled with tributary urns his flood ! 
 First, the famed authors of his ancient name, 
 The winding Isis and the fruitful Thame : 
 The Kennet swift, for silver eels renowned ; 
 The Loddon slow, with verdant alders crowned ; 
 Cole, whose dark streams his flowery islands lave ; 
 And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave : 
 The blue, transparent Vandalis appears ; 
 The gulfy Lee his sedgy tresses rears ; 
 And sullen Mole that hides his diving flood ; 
 And silent Darent, stained with Danish blood. 
 
 High in the midst, upon his urn reclined — 
 His sea-green mantle waving with the wind — 
 The god appeared : he turned his azure eyes 
 Where Windsor domes and pompous turrets rise ! 
 Then bowed, and spoke ; the winds forgot to roar. 
 And the hushed waves glide softly to the shore. 
 
 Hall, sacred Peace ! hail, long-expected days. 
 That Thames*s glory to the stars shall raise ! 
 
 Though Tiber's streams immortal Rome behold. 
 Though foaming Hermus swells with tides of 
 
 gold, 
 From heaven itself though seven-fold Nilus flows. 
 And harvests on a hundred realms bestows ; 
 These now no more shall be the Muses' themes, 
 Lost in my fame, as in the sea their streams. 
 Let Volga's banks with iron squadrons shine. 
 And groves of lances glitter on the Rhine ; 
 Let barbarous Ganges arm a servile train ; 
 Be mine the blessings of a peaceful reign ! 
 No more my sons shall dye with British blood 
 Red Iber's sands, or lifter's foaming flood : 
 Safe on my shore, each unmolested swain 
 Shall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain ; 
 The shady empire shall retain no trace 
 Of war or blood, but in the sylvan chase ; 
 The trumpet sleep, while cheerful horns are blown, 
 And arms employed on birds and beasts alone. 
 Behold ! the ascending villas on my side 
 Project long shadows o'er the crystal tide. 
 Behold ! Augusta's glittering spires increase. 
 And temples rise, the beauteous works of peace. 
 I see, I see, where two fair cities bend 
 Their ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend ! 
 There mighty nations shall inquire their doom. 
 The world's great oracle in times to come ; 
 There kings shall sue, and suppliant states be seen 
 Once more to bend before a British queen. 
 
 WlNDSOR-FOREST OAKS J SHIP-BDILDING ; TRIDJIPHS OF BRIT- 
 ISH NAVIGATION. 
 
 Thy trees, fair Windsor ! now shall leave their 
 
 And half thy forests rush into the floods, 
 Bear Britain's thunder, and her cross display, 
 To tlie bright regions of the rising day : 
 Tempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll, 
 Where clearer flames glow round the frozen pole : 
 Or under southern skies exalt their sails. 
 Led l)y new stars, and borne by spicy gales ! 
 For me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow ; 
 The coral redden, and the ruby glow. 
 The pearly shell its lucid globe infold. 
 And Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold. 
 The time shall come, when, free as seas or wind, 
 Unbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind ; 
 Whole nations enter with each swelling tide. 
 And seas but join the regions they divide ; 
 Earth's distant ends our glory shall behold, 
 And the new world launch forth to seek the old. 
 
 Then ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide. 
 And feathered people crowd my wealthy side. 
 And naked youths and painted chiefs admire 
 Our speech, our color, and our strange attire ! 
 stretch thy reign, fair Peace ! from shore to 
 
 Till 
 
 , and slavery be i 
 
SUMMER — AUGUST. 
 
 Till the freed Indiana in their native groves 
 Reap their own fruits, and woo their sablo loves ! 
 Pom once more a race of kings behold, 
 And other Mexicos be roofed with gold ! 
 Exiled by thee from earth to deepest hell, 
 In brazen bonds shall barbarous Discord dwell : 
 Gigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care, 
 And mad Ambition, shall attend her there : 
 There purple VcnKoance, bathed in gore, retires, 
 Her wi-ap^.ii- Miuit.^l, uml extinct her fires : 
 Theiv li;ii' tul I n^ y Im r M\vn snakcs shall fool, 
 And INi- . iiii-n IN uMi lirr broken wheel : 
 Then- I'ain.^n r^ar, IN lulliun bite her chain, 
 And gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain. 
 
 Hero ceoBO thy flight, nor with unhallowed 
 lays 
 Touch the fair fame of Albion's golden days : 
 The thoughts of gods let Granville's verso recite, 
 And bring the scenes of opening fate to light : 
 My humble muse, in unambitious strains. 
 Paints the green forej^ts and the flowery plains, 
 Whore Peace descending bids her olives spring, 
 And scatters ble.s^lings from her dove-like wing. 
 Even I more sweetly pass my careless days. 
 Pleased in the silent shade with empty praise ; 
 Enough for mo, that to the listening swains 
 First in these fields I sung the sylvan strains. 
 
 ul^iissfr's "^ III] list's Ijiisbaniiri) 
 
 * * TuRV fallow* once ended, go strike by and by 
 Both wheat hind and barley, and so let it lie ; 
 And as ye have leisure, go compass the same. 
 When up yo do lay it, more fruitful to frame. 
 Get down with thy brakes,* ere an' showers do come, 
 That cattle the better may pasture have some. * * 
 Pan saffron between the two St. Mary's days,3 
 Or sot, or go shift it, that knoweth the ways. * » 
 Maids, mustard-seed gather, fore being too ripe, 
 And weather it well, ere ye give it a stripe : 
 Then dress it and lay it in soUer^ up sweet, 
 Lest foistincss make it for table unmeet. 
 Good huswives in summer will save their own seeds, 
 Against the next year, as occasion needs : 
 One seed with another, to make an exchange, 
 With fellowly neighborhood, seemeth not strange. 
 Make suer of reapers, get harvest in hand, 
 The corn that is ripe doth but shed as it stand : 
 Bo thankful to Uod, for his benefits sent. 
 And willing to save it, with earnest intent. * * 
 Reap well, scatter not, gather clean that is shorn, 
 Bind fast, shock apace, have an eye to thy corn ; 
 Load safe, carry home, follow time being fair, 
 Gove' just in the barn, it is out of despair. 
 Tithe duly and truly, with hearty good will, 
 That (rod and his blessing may dwell with thee 
 
 still; 
 Though parson neglectcth his duty for this, 
 Thank thou thy Lord God, and give every man his.** 
 
 1 After thry-fahowinB (third i 
 (strike) the land, to root up weeds, Befoi 
 which would nourish them, is applied. 
 
 = Ferns, or brakes, constitute a light flrinn, in Norfolk, 
 England ; if cut early, the tender grass is allowed to spring 
 up for adtlitionul feed. * 
 
 3 July 22 and Aug. 15. * Seller is an upper room. 
 
 ! (compas), 
 
 The mowing of barley, if barley do stand. 
 Is cheapest and best, for to rid out of hand : 
 Some mow it, and rake it, and set it on cocks, 
 Some mow it, and bind it, and set it on shocks. * * 
 Corn ' being had do>vn (any way ye allow), 
 Should wither as needcth, for burning in mow ; 
 Such skill appertaineth to harvest man's art. 
 And taken in time is a husbandly part. * * 
 If weather bo fair, and tidy thy grain. 
 Make speedily carriage, for fear of a rain ; 
 For tempest and showers deceiveth a many, 
 And lingering lubbers lose many a penny. 
 In going at harvest, learn skilfully how 
 Each grain for to lay by itself on a mow : 
 Seed-barley, the purest, govc out of the way ; 
 All other nigh hand, gove as just as ye may. 
 Corn carried, let such as be poor go and glean, 
 And, after, thy cattle, to mouth it up clean ; 
 Then spare it for rowen till Michel be past, — 
 To lengthen thy dairy, no better thou hast. 
 In harvest-time, harvest-folks, servants and all, 
 Should make, all together, good cheer in the hall ; 
 And fill out the black bowl of blythe to their song, 
 And let them be merry all harvest-time long. 
 Once ended thy harvest, let none be beguiled. 
 Please such as did help thee — man, woman, and 
 
 child ; 
 Thus doing, with alway such help as they can, 
 Thou winncst the praise of the laboring man. 
 Now look up to God-ward, let tongue never ccaso, 
 In thanking of Him for his mighty increase : 
 Accept my good will — for a proof go and try ; 
 The better thou thrivest, the gladder am I. * • 
 
llniiucl^ fcssoits for liuiiisf. 
 
 BEATTIE'S "HERMIT." 
 
 At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still, 
 
 And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove. 
 When naught but the torrent is heard on the hill. 
 
 And naught but the nightingale's song in the 
 grove : 
 'T was thus by the cave of the mounUin afar. 
 
 While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit 
 began : 
 No more with himself or with nature at war. 
 
 He thought as a sage, though ho felt as a man. 
 
 ' Ah ! why, all abandoned to darkness and woe, 
 Why, lone Philomela, that languishing fall ? 
 
 For Spring shall return, and a lover bestow. 
 And sorrow no longer thy bosom inthrall : 
 
 But if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay, 
 
 Mourn, sweetest eomplainer, man calls thee to 
 
 soothe him whose pleasures like thine pass away: 
 Full quickly they pass — but they never return. 
 
 * Now gliding remote on the verge of the sky, 
 
 The moon half-extinguished her crescent displays : 
 But lately I marked, when majestic on high 
 
 She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze. 
 Boll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue 
 
 The path that conducts thee to splendor again ; 
 But man's faded glory what change shall renew ? 
 
 Ah, fool ! to exult in a glory so vain ! 
 
 * 'T is night, and the landscape is lovely no more ; 
 
 I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you ; 
 For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, 
 
 Perfumed with fresh fragrance and glittering with 
 Nor yet for the ravage of Winter I mourn ; [dew : 
 
 Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save. 
 But when shall Spring visit the mouldering urn ! 
 
 0, when shall it dawn on the night of the grave ! ' 
 
 'Twas thus, by the glare of false science betrayed, 
 That leads, to bewilder ; and dazzles, to blind ; 
 
 My thoughts wont to roam, from shade onward to 
 Destruction before me, and sorrow behind, [shade^ 
 
 * pity, great Father of Light,' then I cried, 
 
 ' Thy creature, who fain would not wander from 
 
 Lo, humbled in dust I relinquish my pride : [Thee; 
 
 From doubt and from darkness Thou only canst 
 
 And darkness and doubt are now flying away ; 
 
 No longer I roam in conjecture forlorn : 
 So breaks on the traveller, faint, and astray, 
 
 The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn. 
 See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in triumph descending. 
 
 And Nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom ! 
 On the cold cheek of death smiles and roses aro 
 blending. 
 
 And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb. 
 
 POPE'I 
 
 'UNIVERSAL ORDER." 
 
 All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
 Whose body nature is, and God the soul ; 
 That changed through all, and yet in all the same, 
 Great in the earth, as in the ethereal frame ; 
 Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze. 
 Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees ; 
 Lives through all life, extends through all extent ; 
 Spreads undivided, operates unspent ; 
 Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, 
 As full, as perfect, in an hair as heart ; 
 As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns. 
 As the rapt seraph that adores and burns : 
 To Him no high, no low, no great, no small ; 
 He fills, He bounds, connects, and equals all. 
 
 Cease, then, nor order imperfection name : 
 Our proper bliss depends on what we blame. 
 Know thy own point : this kind, this due degree 
 Of blindness, weakness, Heaven bestows on thee. 
 Submit. — In this, or any other sphere, 
 Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear : 
 Safe in the hand of one disposing Power, 
 Or in the natal or the mortal hour. 
 All nature is but art, unknown to thee ; 
 All chance, direction, which thou canst not see ; 
 All discord, harmony not understood ; 
 All partial evil, universal good : 
 And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite. 
 One truth is clear — whatever is, is right. 
 
 GOD EVERYWHERE. 
 I READ God's awful name emblazoned high 
 With golden letters on the illumined sky ; 
 Nor less the mystic characters I see 
 Wrought in each flower, inscribed on every ti 
 In every leaf that trembles to the breeze 
 I hear the voice of God among the trees. 
 With Thee in shady solitudes I walk, 
 With Thee in busy, crowded cities talk ; 
 In every creature own thy forming power. 
 In each event thy Providence adore ! * * 
 

 m'\i ; 
 
 AUTUMN-SEi'TEilEER. 
 
 Zh( (Tbivii of tl)c .Reasons. 
 
 THOMSON'S " AUTUMN." 
 
 The subject proposed. Addressert t" Mr. fln«lf>w. A pros- 
 pect of the Belds ready for harvr,i. i;..||. nwu-i in jiraise 
 of industry niise<l hy that VI l nla- 
 
 barbarity. 
 
 of an orchard, nau-iruii. i i>|.i.«m 
 
 of fogs, frequent in the latttr i .li.iu'ea 
 
 dicression, inquirinij into tlu' ri-- "f f luntiuiK ;lii,1 rivers. 
 Birds of season considered, that now shift their haliitation. 
 Tlie prodigious number of them that cover the northern 
 and western isles of Scotland. Hence a view of the coun- 
 try. A prospect of the discolored, fading woods. After a 
 gentle, dusky day, moonlight Autumnal meteors. Morn- 
 ing ; to which succeeds a calm, pure, sunshiny day. such 
 as usually shuts up the season. The harvest being gath- 
 ered in, the country dissolved in joy. The whole concludes 
 with a panegyric on a philosophical country life. 
 
 Tns ArrcMS of the tear. 
 Crowxed with the sicklo and the whcatcn sheaf, 
 While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain, 
 Comes jovial on ; the Doric reed once more, 
 Well-plcascd, I tunc. Whate'er the wintry frost 
 Nitrous prepared ; the various-blossomed Spring 
 Put in white promise forth ; and summer-suns 
 Conooctcd strong, rush boundless now i 
 Full, perfect all, and swell my gloriou 
 
 "35" 
 
 theme. 
 
 Onslow ! the .Muse, ambitious of thy name. 
 To grace, in.«pire, 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 bosran glow ; 
 While listening senates bang upon thy tongue. 
 Devolving through the ma/o of eloquence 
 A roll of periods, sweeter than her song. 
 But she too pants for public virtue ; she. 
 Though weak 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 sorener blue, 
 AVith golden light enlivened, wide invests 
 The happy world. Attempered suns arise. 
 Sweet-beamed, and shedding oft through lucid clouds 
 
RURAL POETRY. THOMSON. 
 
 A pleasing.calm ; while broad, and brown, below 
 
 Extensive harvests hang the heavy head. 
 
 Rich, silent, deep, they stand ; fur 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 difierent ; and the sudden sun 
 
 By fits efi'ulgent gilds the illumined field, 
 
 And black by fits the shadows sweep along. 
 
 A gayly-checkered, 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 labor still attends, and sweat, and pain ; 
 Yet the kind source of every gentle art. 
 And all the soft civility of life : 
 Raiser of humankind ! 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 poured around * 
 
 Materials infinite, but idle all. 
 
 Still unexerted, in the unconscious breast. 
 Slept the lethargic powers ; corruption still. 
 Voracious, swallowed what the liberal hand 
 Of bounty scattered o'er the savage year : 
 And still the sad barbarian, roving, mixed 
 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 charged, let the mixed tempest fly, 
 Hail, rain, and snow, and bitter breathing frost : 
 Then to the shelter of the hut he fled ; 
 And the wild seasons, sordid, pined away. 
 
 For home he had not ; homo is the resort 
 Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where. 
 Supporting and supported, polished friends. 
 And dear relations, mingle into bliss. 
 But this the rugged savage never felt. 
 E'en desolate in crowds ; and thus his days 
 Rolled heavy, dark, and unenjnyed along, 
 A waste of time ! till Tnau-ti y iiii|.n.adied, 
 And roused him I'l i>im hi- mi-ruMf slnth ; 
 His faculties uiilnl'ir. I ; )iniiii<.i nut, 
 Where lavish Natnrr tin- .litnting hand 
 Of Art demanded ; showed 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 gathered blast ; 
 Gave the tall ancient forest to his axe ; 
 Taught him to chip the wood, and hew the stone, 
 
 , by degrees the finished fabric rose ; 
 
 r tiMiii ill- linil's the blood-polluted fur, 
 
 I \\i;i|'i 1 III Ml 111 tlie woolly vestment warm, 
 
 II i_lit m -ill -y sil)i, and flowing lawn ; 
 
 :h w UukM>mc \ iauds filled his table, poured 
 J generous glass around, inspired to wake 
 J life-refining soul of decent wit : 
 1- stopped at liarren, bare necessity ; 
 I lil :il\ ,11.1 ini^ bolder, led him on 
 
 I mi', elegance, and grace ; 
 1, I I .!:;,::,_ i/i_'ii ambition through his soul, 
 :.ctt-in;i.-, \Mi.ii-.ui, glory, in his view, 
 i bade him be the Lord of all below. 
 
 Then gathering men their natural powers com- 
 And formed a public ; to the general good [bined, 
 Suttniitting, aiming, and conducting all. 
 I'm liii- tiir I'litiii.t-Oouncil met, the full, 
 'I'll! Ill I , mill tiiiily represented Whole ; 
 Fill liiis iluy iiiiuiiied the holy guardian laws, 
 Uistinguislied orders, animated arts. 
 And, with joint force Oppression chaining, set 
 Imperial Justice at the helm, yet still 
 To them accountable : nor slavish dreamed 
 That toiling millions must resign their weal. 
 And all the honey of their search, to such 
 As for themselves alone themselves have raised. 
 
 Hence every form ul CulilMitLil Itl'e 
 In order set, protectnl. ninl in.)iiii'i|. 
 Into perfection wroii.iilii. 1 nitinL' nil. 
 Society grew numerou.-^, hi-h, polite. 
 And happy. Nurse of art ! the city reared 
 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 sous. 
 
 Then Commerce brought into the public walk 
 The busy merchant ; the big warehouse built ; 
 Raised the strong crane ; choked up the loaded street 
 With foreign plenty ; and thy stream, Thames, 
 Large, gentle, deep, majestic, king of floods ! 
 Chose for his grand resort. On either hand. 
 Like a long wintry forest, groves of masts 
 Shot up their spires ; the bellying sheet between 
 Possessed the breezy void ; the sooty hulk 
 Steered sluggish on ; the splendid barge along 
 Rowed, regular, to harmony ; around. 
 The boat, light-skimming, stretched its oary wings; 
 While deep the various voice of fervent toil [oak. 
 From bank to bank increased ; whence ribbed with 
 To bear the British thunder, black, and bold. 
 The roaring vessel rushed into the main. 
 
 LrXl-BT ; THE FISE AETS. 
 
 Then too the pillared dome, magnific, heaved 
 Its ample roof ; and Luxury within 
 Poured out her glittering stores : the canvas smooth, 
 
AUTUMN — SEPTEMBER. 
 
 With glowing life protuliorant, to tho view 
 Embodied rose ; tlio sUituc seemed to breathe, 
 And soften into flesh, beneath the touch 
 Of forming art, imagination-flushed. 
 
 All is tho gift of industry j whate'cr 
 Exalts, embellishes, and renders life 
 Delightful. Pensive Winter, cheered by him. 
 Sits at tho soeiul fire, and happy hears 
 Tho excluded tempest idly rave along ; 
 His hardened fingers deck the gaudy Spring ; 
 
 Nor to the autumnal months could thus transmit 
 Those full, mature, immeasurable stores, 
 That, waving round, recall my wandering song. 
 
 THE REAPERS, TOITIIS iSD MAIDESS i TIK HARVEST. 
 
 Soon as the morning trembles o'er the sl«y. 
 And, unperccived, unfolds the spreading day ; 
 Before the ripened field the reapers stand. 
 In fair array, each by the lass he loves. 
 To bear the rougher part, and mitigate 
 By nameless gentle ofliccs her toil. 
 At once they stoop, and swell tho lusty sheaves ; 
 While through their cheerful band the rural tallt, 
 Tho rural scandal, and tho 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. 
 
 TUB CLEASEBS. — CUABITV TO THE T 
 
 The gleaners spread around, and here and there. 
 Spike after spike, their scanty harvest pick. 
 Be not too narrow, husbandmen ! but fling 
 From tho full sheaf, with charitable stealth. 
 The liberal handful. Think, grateful think ! 
 How good tho 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. Tho various turns 
 Of fortune ponder ; that your sons may want 
 What now, with hard reluctance, faint, yo give. 
 
 STORY OP PALEMOS AKD lAVlKIA.-HER PARE.STAOE AXD 
 CUILDHOOD. 
 
 The lovely young Lavinia once had friends ; 
 And fortune smiled, deceitful, on her birth. 
 For, in her helpless years deprived of all, 
 Of every stay, save Innocence and Heaven, 
 She with her widowed mother, feeble, old, 
 And poor, lived in a cottage, far retired 
 Among tho windings of a woody vale ; 
 By solitude and deep surrounding shades. 
 But more by bashful modesty, concealed. 
 Together thus they shunned the ornel scorn 
 Which virtue, sunk to poverty, would meet 
 From giddy passion and low-minded pride ; 
 
 Almost on nature's 
 
 Like the gay birds that sung them to repose. 
 
 Content, and careless of to-morrow's fare. 
 
 UKR BEAITY ctsCBlBED. — lOVELlSESS ISAnoRSED. 
 
 Her form was fresher than the morning rose, 
 When the dew wets its leaves ; unstained and i>ure 
 As is tlie 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 promised once. 
 Thrilled in her thouglit, they, like the dewy star 
 Of evening, shone in tears. A native grace 
 Sat fair-proportioned on her polished limbs. 
 Veiled in a simple robe, their best attire. 
 Beyond the pomp of dress ; for loveliness 
 Needs not tho foreign aid of ornament. 
 But is, when unadorned, adorned the most. 
 Thoughtless of beauty, she was Beauty's self, 
 Recluse amid the close-embowering woods. 
 
 LAVISIA r.LEASS IS THE FIBLDS OF PAI.EMOS.- PALEMOS 
 DESCRIBED. — ARCADIAN LIFE. 
 
 As in tho hollow breast of Apenninc, 
 Beneath the shelter of encircling hills, 
 A myrtle rises, far from human eye. 
 And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild ; 
 So flourished blooming, and unseen by all, 
 The sweet Lavinia ; till, at length, compelled 
 By strong Necessity's supreme command. 
 With smiling paticnoo in litr lonl;?. she went 
 To glean Palem..n'- li' 1 i- T^ i I'l !• ..f swains 
 Palemon was, tin- 'j' i , i 1 1' It ; 
 
 Who led tho runil lii i. 
 And elejr!!!!."'. «ih'Ii .i \|' m'Ii.ui - 'H^' 
 
 Transmii- ii^ "■'•< m.-'iruptcd times ; 
 
 When tviMiit ■ n i m li li n't shackled man. 
 But frcu I" 111'" iiii'uM w;.s the mode. 
 He then, his I'miey with autumnal scenes 
 Amusing, chanced beside his reaper-train 
 To walk, when poor Lavinia drew his eye ; 
 Unconscious of her power, and turning quick 
 With unaffected blushes from his ga7.e : 
 Ho saw her charming, but he saw not half 
 The charms her downcast modesty concealed. 
 
 SOLILOQCT OF PALEMOS. — ACASTO. 
 
 That very 
 Sprung in 
 
 love and chaste desir 
 lis bosom, to himself unknown ; 
 
 For still the world prevailed and its dread laugl 
 Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn,— 
 Should his heart own a gleaner in the field ; 
 And thus in secret to his soul ho sighed : 
 
 ' What pity ! that so delicate a form, 
 By beauty kindled, where enlivening sense 
 And more than vulgar goodness seem to dwell. 
 Should be devoted to the rude embrace 
 Of some indecent clown ! she looks, methinks. 
 Of old Acasto's line ; and to my mind 
 
RURAL POETRY. - 
 
 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, dissolved. 
 'T is said that in some lone, obscure retreat, 
 Urged 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 inquiring, from herself he found 
 She was the same, the daughter of his friend, 
 Of bountiful Acasto — who can speak 
 The mingled passions that surprised his heart, 
 And through his nerves in shivering transport ran ? 
 Then blazed his smothered flame, avowed, and bold ; 
 And as he viewed her, ardent, o'er and o'er, 
 Love, gratitude, and pity, wept at once. 
 Confused, and frightened at his sudden tears, 
 Her rising beauties flushed a higher bloom, 
 As thus Palemon, passionate and just, 
 Poured out the pious rapture of his soul : 
 
 PALEMOS'S WOOING. 
 
 'And art thou, then, Acasto's dear remains? 
 She whom my restless gratitude has sought 
 So long in vain ? heavens ! the very same, 
 The softened image of my noble friend ; 
 Alive his every look, his every feature. 
 More elegantly touched. Sweeter than Spring ! 
 Thou sole surviving blossom from the root 
 That nourished up my fortune ! Say, ah where. 
 In what sequestered desert hast thou drawn 
 The kindest aspect of delighted Heaven ? 
 Into such beauty spread, and blown so fair ; 
 Though poverty's cold wind, and crushing rain. 
 Beat keen and heavy on thy tender years ? 
 let me now into a richer soil 
 Transplant thee safe! where vernal suns and showers 
 Dilfuse their warmest, largest influence ; 
 And of my garden be the pride and joy ! 
 Ill it befits thee, 0, it ill befits 
 Acasto's daughter, his, whose open stores. 
 Though 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 applied 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 lavished thou wilt add that bliss. 
 That dearest bliss, the power of blessing thee ! ' 
 
 LAVINIA WON i DOMESTIC HJPPISESS. 
 
 Here ceased the youth : yet still his speaking eye 
 E.xpressed the sacred triumph of his soul, 
 With conscious virtue, gratitude, and love, 
 Above the vulgar joy divinely raised. 
 
 Nor waited he reply. Won by the charm 
 Of goodness irresistible, and all 
 In sweet disorder lost, she blushed consent. 
 The news immediate'to her mother brought, 
 While, pierced with anxious thought, she pined away 
 The lonely moments for Lavinia's fate ; 
 Amazed, and scarce believing what she heard, 
 .T<iv ^<i/''il her withoreil veins, and one bright gleam 
 
 A numerous ollspring, lovely like themselves. 
 And good, the grace of all the country roimd. 
 
 Defeating oft the labors of the year, 
 The sultry south collects a potent blast. 
 At first the groves are scarcely seen to stir 
 Their treinbliivj- tnp^-, :in<l ;i '•-till murmur runs 
 Along the -"li i.l. i' i ■ I i- nf corn. 
 But as the ^1. 1 1 ; I. ,1 . I . llrr Mvells, 
 And in one uiij.ii ^u.^r.n .misible. 
 Immense, the whole oxeited atmosphere 
 Impetuous rushes o'er the souuding world ; 
 Strained to the root, the stooping forest pours 
 A rustling shower of yet untimely leaves. 
 High-heat, the circling mountains eddy in 
 From the bare wild the dissipated storm, 
 And send it in a torrent down the vale. 
 Exposed, and naked, to its utmost rage, 
 Througli all the sea of harvest rolling round, 
 The billowy plain floats wide, nor can evade, 
 Though pliant to the blast, its seizing force ; 
 Or whirled in air, or into vacant chatF 
 Shook waste. 
 
 THE SUMMER TEMPEST DELUGE OF BAIN. — INUNDATION. 
 
 — DAMAGE. 
 
 And sometimes too a burst of rain, 
 Swept from the black horizon, broad, descends 
 In one continuous flood. Still over head 
 The mingling tempest waves 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 spared 
 In one wild moment ruined ; the big hopes 
 And well-earned treasures of the painful year. 
 
 THE DISAPPOINTED FABMER AND ms LANDLORD. 
 
 Fled to some eminence, the husbandman 
 Helpless beholds the miserable wreck 
 Driving along ; his drowning ox at once 
 Dcseciidiii),', witli his labors scattered round, 
 Hi' Ml ; ;iimI iii-liiut o'er his shivering thought 
 
 t' ^ I'l Mvided, and a train 
 
 (II ' ln.,;ii,i . Iiiiii.ii dear. Ye masters, then. 
 Be iiuiidtul ot the rough laborious hand 
 
■ SEPTEMBER. 
 
 301 
 
 That sinks you soft in ologanco and cose ; 
 
 Bo mindful of those limbs, in rusiot oliid, 
 
 AVlioso toil to yours is warmth and graceful pride, 
 
 And, ! bo mindful of that sparing board 
 
 "Which covers yours with luxury profuse, 
 
 Makes your glass sparkle, and your sense rcjoioo ! 
 
 Nor cruelly demand what the deep rains 
 
 And all-involving winds have swept away. 
 
 THE SPORTSMAN ; SPANIEL J COVET. 
 
 Hero t^o rude clamor of the sportsman's joy. 
 The gun fast-thundering, and the winded horn, 
 Would tempt the Muse to sing the ruml game : 
 How in his mid-careur the spaniel struck. 
 Stiff, by the tainted gnio, with open nose, 
 OuUtretchcd and finely «pn»iMr. ilniws full, 
 Fearful and caiili"ii-. "n ili- lit. at prey ; 
 As in the sun thr .n . nn,- . -i . ;, liask 
 Their varied pluiii> -. aril \\:ii ■hiul, every way 
 Through the rough stubbk- turn the secret eye. 
 Caught in the meshy snare, in vain they beat 
 Their idle wings, entangled more and more : 
 Nor on the surges of the boundless air, 
 Though borne triumphant, are they safe ; the gun. 
 Glanced just, ond 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 widc-disporsed, 
 AVoundcd, and wheeling various, down the wind. 
 
 POETBr BEBCKES, NOT 
 
 AND THE CHASE. 
 
 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 mi.^ed animal creation round 
 Alive and happy. 'T is not joy to her, 
 This falsely-cheerful, barbarous game of death, 
 This rage of pleasure, which the restle.«s youth 
 Awakes, impatient, with the gleaming morn : 
 AVhcn beasts of prey retire, that all night long, 
 Urged by necessity, had ranged the dark. 
 As if their conscious mvnire shunned the light, 
 Ashamed. Not •■' M,. til, t;,i,iiit man, 
 
 Who, with the til. r ,.f power 
 
 Inflamed, beyniil t ' ' 'iiitr wrath 
 
 Of the worst mi 111 -I I tuit i -i i hihmI the waste. 
 For sport alone pursues the cruel chase, 
 Amid the beamings of the gentle days. 
 Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage, 
 For hunger kindles you, and lawless want ; 
 But lavish fed, in Nature's bounty rolled, 
 To joy at anguish, and delight in blood, 
 Is what your horrid bosoms never knew. 
 
 Poor is the triumph o'er the timid hare ! 
 Scared from the corn, and now to some lone seat 
 Retired : the rushy fen j the ragged furie, 
 
 Strctohcd o'er the sto^y heath j the stubble chapt ; 
 Tho thistly lawn ; the thick-entangled broom ; 
 Of tho same friendly hue, the withered fern ; 
 The fallow ground laid open to the sun, 
 Concoctive ; and the nodding, sandy bank. 
 Hung o'er tho mazes of tho mountain brook. 
 Vain is her best precaution ; though she sits 
 Concealed, with folded ears ; unsleeping eyes, 
 By Nature raised to take the horizon in ; 
 And head couched close between her hairy feet. 
 In act to spring away. Tho scented dew 
 Betrays her early labyrinth ; and deep, 
 In scattered, 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 amazed, 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 chase ; and the loud hunters' shout ; 
 O'er a weak, harmless, flying creature, all 
 Mixed in mad tumult, and discordant joy. 
 
 The stag too, singled from tho herd, whore long 
 
 1 He ranged the branching monarch of the shades, 
 
 ! Before the tempest drives. At first in speed 
 He, sprightly, puts his faith ; and, roused by fear, 
 Gives all his swift, a.-ii„l .soul to flight ; 
 Against tin- l.rnvi. hi- ilait-. iliat way the more 
 
 , To leave till' h -i ijui_. I. rous cry behind : 
 
 Deception .~li.-ii ' ili.iii;;li lUiter than the winds 
 
 I Blown o'er the keen-aired mountjiiu by the north. 
 He bursts the thickets, glances through the glades, 
 
 j And plunges deep into the wildest wood ; 
 If slow, yet sure, adhesive to the track 
 Hot-steaming, up behind him come again 
 
 I The inhuman rout, and from tho shatly depth 
 Expel him, circling through his every shift. 
 
 ' He sweeps tho forest 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 tho scent, and lave his burning sides : 
 Oft seeks the herd ; tho watchful herd, nlurmod, 
 With selfish care avoid a brother's woe. 
 What shall ho do? Hi.? 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 ; 
 Ho groans in anguish ; while the growling pack, 
 Blood-happy, hang at his fair jutting chest, 
 And mark his beauteous checkered sides with gore. 
 
 Of this enough. But if the sylvan youth, 
 Whose fervent blood boils into violence. 
 
RURAL POETRY. THOMSON. 
 
 Must have the chase ; behold, despising flight, 
 The roused-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 ruflSan 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, pitiless, to pour 
 Loose on the nightly robber of the fold ; 
 Him, from his craggy, winding haunts unearthed. 
 Let all the thunder of the chase pursue. 
 Throw the broad ditch behind you ; o'er the hedge 
 High bound, resistless ; nor the deep morass 
 Refuse, but through 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 teiumph sound sonorous, running round, 
 From rock to rock, in circling echoes tossed ; 
 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 chase ; 
 Has every maze evolved, and every guile 
 Disclosed ; who knows the merits of the pack ; 
 Who saw the villain seized, and dying hard, 
 Without complai]it, tliiii^'li l.y :i liiindred mouths 
 Relentless torn . 1 1 u i , , , , , , , , . | , r , 1 1. ■ yond 
 His daring peers ' w h. n i h. r. i rruting horn 
 Calls them to ghoiUy hull., ,.f giay renown. 
 With woodland honors graced ; 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 shako the dome. 
 
 But first the fuelled chimney blazes wide ; 
 The tankards foam ; and tlir >tnai^ t:tiilr groans 
 
 Beneath the smoking sirl-iin, -ti-.!<|i,-,( i n-nse 
 
 From side to side, in wliirh, wiil, i|.-p,i,iir knife. 
 They deep incision make, ;iua talk thL> while 
 Of England's glory, ne'er to be defaced. 
 While hence they borrow vigor : or amain 
 Into tho pasty plunged, at intcnals. 
 If stomach keen i-au intm^il. allow, 
 Relating all the ^^-Inn,.. ,,r ih,. d, ;,..-. 
 Then sated Hun-ri- l.i.l- In- l.i ..tlin- Thirst 
 Produce the nii-htv 1-ul ; ihu nii-hty bowl, 
 Swelli-il liiL'li uilli 111 i\ juice, steams liberal round 
 Apotnii L-:il" ■. 'I. la-hills as the breath 
 Of JMaia iM liir Inv.-ak shepherdess, 
 
 On violets diffused, 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 
 E'en with the vineyard's best produce to vie. 
 To cheat the thirsty moments, AVhist a while 
 Wiilk'' bi= dull ri^innd beneath a cloud of smoke, 
 \\'?i alia,], IVaL'rant, from the pipe ; or the quick 
 111 ihuiiilii- 1 1 a 1 . 1 1 1 l: 1 rom the box, awake [dice, 
 
 Tiif Miuialinix i^aiiiiiion ; while romp-loving miss 
 Is hauled 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 tn tip- |iiil> Iml^ ^^ ' i Ii 
 
 Indulged apart ; bin i n i- bowls 
 
 Lave every soul, the lai !' i' . mi aial, 
 
 And pavement, faitiil'- i- ih. inall.-l loot. 
 
 Thus as they swim in mutual swill, the talk, 
 
 Vociferous at once from twenty tongues, [hounds, 
 
 Reels fust from theme to theme ; from horses, 
 
 To church or mistress, politics or ghost, 
 
 In endless mazes, intricate, perplexed. 
 
 Meantime, with sudden interruption, loud, 
 
 The impatient catch bursts from the joyous heart ; 
 
 That moment touched is every kindred soul ; 
 
 And, opening in a full-mouthed cry of joy. 
 
 The laugh, the slap, the jocund curse, go round ; 
 
 While, from their slumbers shook, the kennelled 
 
 Mix in the music of the day again. [hounds 
 
 As when the tempest, that has vexed 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 dissolved. Before their maudlin eyes, 
 
 Seen dim and blue, the double tapers dance. 
 
 Like the sun wading through the misty sky. 
 
 Then, sliding soft, they drop. Confused above. 
 
 Glasses and bottles, pipes and gazetteers. 
 
 As if the table e'en itself was drunk. 
 
 Lie a wet, broken scene ; and wide, below. 
 
 Is heaped the social slaughter : where astride 
 
 The lubber-power in filthy triumph sits, 
 
 Slumbrous, inclining still from side to side. 
 
 And steeps them drenched in potent sleep till morn. 
 
 Perhaps some doctor, of tremendous paunch. 
 
 Awful and deep, a black abyss of drink. 
 
 Outlives them all ; and from his buried flock 
 
 Retiring, full of rumination sad. 
 
 Laments the weakness of these latter times. 
 
 But if the rougher sex by this fierce sport 
 i hurried wild, let not such horrid joy 
 
AUTUMN — SEPTEMBER. 
 
 E'er stain tho bosom of the British fair. 
 
 F»r bo tho spirit of tho chase from them I 
 
 Uncomely courage, unbeseeming skill ; 
 
 To spring tho fence, to rein the prancing steed ; 
 
 Tho cap, the whip, the masculine attire. 
 
 In which thoy roughen to the sense, and all 
 
 The winning softness of their sex is lost. 
 
 In thcni 'tis graceful to dissolve at woe ; 
 
 With every motion, every word, to wave 
 
 Quick o'er tho kindling cheek the ready blush ; 
 
 And from tho smallest violence to shrink 
 
 Unequal, then the loveliest in their fears ; 
 
 And by this silent adulation, soft. 
 
 To their protection more engaging man. 
 
 may their eyes no miserable sight, 
 
 Save weeping lovers, see ! a nobler game. 
 
 Through love's enchanting wiles pursued, yet fled. 
 
 In chase ambiguous. May their tender limbs 
 
 Float in the loose simplicity of dress ! 
 
 And, fashioned 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 step, 
 
 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 flavor to the fruitful year, 
 
 And heighten Nature's dainties ; in their race 
 
 To rear their graces into second lifo ; 
 
 To give society its highest taste ; 
 
 Well-ordered home man's best delight to make ; 
 
 And by submissive wisdom, modest skill, 
 
 AVith 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. 
 
 GATHRRINO OF nAZEL-XTTS. — MELIN'DA. 
 
 Yo swains, now hasten to tho hazel bank, 
 Where down yon dale the wildly-winding brook 
 Falls hoarse from steep to steep. In close array, 
 Fit for the thickets and tho tangling shrub, 
 Ye virgins, come. For you their latest song 
 The woodlands raise ; the clustering nuts for you 
 The lover finds amid the secret shade ; 
 And, where they burnish on the topmost bough, 
 With active vigor crushes down the tree ; 
 Or shakes them ripe from the resigfting husk, 
 A glossy shower, and of an ardent brown. 
 As are the ringlets of Melinda's hair : 
 Melinda ! formed with every grace complete ; 
 Yet these neglecting, above beauty wise, 
 And far transcending such a vulgar praise. 
 
 THE OaCHABD. — OATHBRIXO OF mnr. — PBARS; APPLES; 
 
 cider; philips. 
 Hence from the busy, joy-resounding fields. 
 In cheerful error, let us tread the maze 
 Of Autumn, unconfincd ; and ^te, revived. 
 The breath of orchard big with bending fruit ; 
 
 Obedient to tho breeio and beating ray, 
 
 From the deep-loaded bough a mellow shower 
 
 Incessant melts away. Tho juicy pear 
 
 Lies in a soft profusion scattered round. 
 
 A various sweetness swells the gentle race. 
 
 By Nature's all-refining hand prepared ; 
 
 Of tempered sun, and water, earth, and air, 
 
 In over-changing composition mixed. 
 
 Such, falling frequent through the chiller night, 
 
 The fragrant stores, tho wide-projected heaps 
 
 Of apples, which the lusty-handed year, 
 
 Innumcrous, o'er the blushing Orchard shakes. 
 
 A various spirit, fresh, delicious, keen. 
 
 Dwells in their gelid pores ; and, active, points 
 
 Tho piercing cider for the thirsty tongue : 
 
 Thy native theme, and boon inspircr too. 
 
 Philips, Pomona's bard, the second thou 
 
 Who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse, 
 
 With British freedom sing the British song : 
 
 now, from Silurian vats, high-sparkling wines 
 
 Foam in transparent floods ; some strong, to cheer 
 
 The wintry revels of the laboring hind ; 
 
 And tasteful some, to cool the summer hours. 
 
 — THE nowss OF noBSETSmRE.- 
 
 In this glad season, while 1 
 Tho sun sheds equal o'er the meekencd day, 
 lose me in the green delif;htfnl w.ilks, 
 Of, DodiliL't-n. Miv ^,al. ^^ i.ur ;,,;.! plain ; 
 Where sitii|il'' N ii'n. ii'..", mi , \ , ry view, 
 
 Diffusive, -i-n .i i ii,- ]ni. H. , .. ; I.'n-ns, 
 
 In bound k'-- [ j. l ; y !•; -lii^-.-i with wood. 
 
 Here rich with harvest, and there white with flocks ! 
 
 Meantime the grandeur of thy lofty dome, 
 
 Far-splendid, seizes on tho ravished eye. 
 
 New beauties rise with each revolving day ; 
 
 New columns swell ; and still the fresh Spring finds 
 
 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, fired with the restless thirst 
 
 Of thy applause, I solitary court 
 
 The inspiring breeze, and meditate the book 
 
 Of Nature, ever open ; aiming thence. 
 
 Warm from tho heart, to learn the moral song. 
 
 Here, as I steal along the sunny wall 
 
 Where Autumn basks, with fruit empurpled deep. 
 
 My pleasing theme continual prompts my thought : 
 
 Presents the downy peach, the shining plum, 
 
 The ruddy, fragrant nectarine ; and, dark 
 
 Beneath his ample leaf, the luscious fig. 
 
 Tho vino too here her curling tendrils shoots, 
 
 Hangs out her clusters, glowing to the south. 
 
 And scarcely wishes for a warmer sky. 
 
 TUB VISEYARD ASP VINTAGE. — WINK-MAKING. — CLARET; 
 
 Turn we a moment Fancy's rapid flight 
 To vigorous soils, ond climes of fair extent ; 
 
304 
 
 RtJKAL POETRY. 
 
 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 increased, the heightened blaze. 
 Low bend the weighty boughs. The clusters clear. 
 Half through the foliage seen, or ardent flame. 
 Or shine transparent ; while perfection breathes 
 AVhite o'er the turgent film the living dew. 
 As thus they brighten with exalted juice. 
 Touched into flavor by the mingling ray ; 
 The rural youth anfl virgins o'er the field. 
 Each fond for ciich t" mil the autumnal prime. 
 Exulting rove, aii^l -p'iili Hi- i intngc nigh. 
 Then comes the (.ni-liinL' n:iiii , the country floats, 
 And foams unbuuudud with the mashy flood ; 
 That by degrees fermented, and refined. 
 Round the raised nations pours 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 Champagne. 
 
 ADTMS FOGS. — THE SCS TKROnOU A FOG. — CHiOS. 
 
 Now, by the cool declining year condensed. 
 Descend the copious exhalations, checked 
 As up the middle sky unseen they stole. 
 And roll the doubling fogs around the hill. 
 No more the mountain, horrid, vast, sublime, 
 Which pours a sweep of rivers from its sides, 
 And high between contending kingdoms rears 
 The rocky long division, fills the view 
 With great variety ; but, in a night 
 Of gathering vapor, 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 tlu- lui-iy wavr. 
 E'en in the height of noon ..|,],m--, ,1, il,, -un 
 Sheds, weak and blunt, lii> \\ I'l.-n i la.hil lay ; 
 Whence glaring oft, with many a ijiuiidtuLj orb. 
 He frights the nations. Indistinct on earth. 
 Seen through the turbid air, beyond the life 
 Objects appear ; and, 'wildered, o'er the waste 
 The shepherd stalks gigantic. Till at last 
 Wreathed dun around, in deeper circles still 
 Successive closing, sits the general fog 
 Unbounded o'er the world ; and, mingling thick, 
 A formless, gray confusion covers all. 
 As when of old (so sung the Hebrew bard) 
 Light, uncollected, through the chaos urged 
 Its infant way ; nor Order yet had drawn 
 
 I His lovely train from out the dubious gloom. 
 
 j .„„,. ., 
 
 These roving mists, that constant now begin 
 To smoke along the hilly country, these 
 With weightier rains, and melted Alpine snows. 
 The mountain-cisterns fill, those ample stores 
 Of water, scooped among the hollow rocks ; [play 
 Whence gush the streams, the ceaseless fountain 
 
 And their unfailing wealth the rivers draw. 
 
 Some sages say, that, where the numerous wave 
 
 Forever lashes the resounding shore, 
 
 Drilled through th» sarjdy stratum, every way, 
 
 The waters with the sandy stratum rise ; 
 
 Amid whose angles infinitely strained. 
 
 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 the irriguous vale it springs ; 
 
 But to the mountain courted by the sand. 
 
 That leads it darkling on in faithful maze, 
 
 Far from the parent main, it boils again 
 
 Fresh into 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 offer 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 [long? 
 
 The attractive sand that charmed their course so 
 
 Besides, the hard agglomerating salts. 
 
 The spoil of ages, would impervious choke 
 
 Their secret channels ; or, by slow degrees, 
 
 High as the hills protrude the swelling vales : 
 
 Old Ocean, too, sucked through the porous globe. 
 
 Had long ere now forsook his horrid bed. 
 
 And brought Deucalion's watery times again. 
 
 EiPm SDEVET OF THE CmEP MOCNTAISS OF THE WORLD. 
 
 Say, then, where lurk the vast eternal springs. 
 That, like creating Nature, lie concealed 
 From mortal eye, yet with their lavish stores 
 Refresh the globe, and all its joyous tribes ! 
 thou pervading Genius, given to man 
 To trace the secrets of the dark abyss, 
 lay the mountains bare ! and wide display 
 Their hidden structure to the astoni.=hed view ! 
 Strip from the branching Alps their piny load ; 
 The huge incumbrance of horrific woods 
 From Asian Taurus, from Imaus stretched 
 Athwart the roving Tartar's sullen bounds ! 
 Give opening Hemus to my searching eye, 
 And high Olympus pouring many a stream ; 
 from the sounding summits of the north. 
 The Dofrino Hills, through Scandinavia rolled 
 To furthest Lapland and the frozen main ; 
 From lofty Caucasus, far seen by those 
 Who in the Caspian and black Euxino toil ; 
 From cold Ripha;an rocks, which the wild Russ 
 Believes the stony girdle of the world ; 
 And all the dreadful mountains, wrapt in storm. 
 Whence wide Siberia draws her lonely floods ; 
 sweep the eternal snows ! Hung o'er the deep. 
 That ever works beneath his sounding base. 
 Bid Atlas, propping heaven, as poets feign. 
 His subterranean winders spread ! Unveil 
 The miny caverns, blazing on the day, 
 
AUXOMN — SEPTEMBER. 
 
 305 
 
 Of Abyssinia's oloud-oompolling oliBs, 
 And of the bonding Mountains of the Moon ! 
 O'crtopping uU these giant sons of earth. 
 Lot tlio diro Andes, from the radiant lino 
 Stretched to the stormy seas that thunder round 
 The southern polo, their hideous deeps unfold ! 
 
 Amazing scene ! Behold ! the glooms disclose ; 
 I see the rivers in their infant beds ! 
 Deep, deep I hear them laboring to get free ; 
 I see the leaning strata, artful ranged ; 
 The gaping fissures to receive the rains, 
 The melting snows, and ever-dripping fogs. 
 Strewed bibulous above I see the sands. 
 The pebbly gravel next, the layers then 
 Of mingled moulds, of more retentive earths. 
 The guttered rucks and mazy-running clefts ; 
 That, while the stealing moisture they transmit. 
 Retard its motion, and forbid its waste. 
 Beneath the incessant weeping of these drains, 
 I see the rocky siphons stretched immense. 
 The mighty reservoirs, of hardened chalk. 
 Or stiff-compacted clay, capacious formed, 
 O'crflowing thence, the congregated stores. 
 The crystal treasures of the liquid world. 
 Through the stirred sands a bubbling passage burst; 
 And welling out, around the middle steep. 
 Or from the bottoms of the bosomed hills, 
 In pure effusion flow. United, thus, 
 Th' exhaling sun, the vapor-burdened air. 
 The gelid mountains, that to rain condensed 
 These vapors in continual current draw, 
 And send them, o'er the fair-<livided earth. 
 In bounteous rivers to the deep again, — 
 A .social commerce hold, and firm support 
 The full-adjusted harmony of things. 
 
 THK AmM.\AL MlORiTIOS OF BIRDS. 
 
 When Autumn scatters his departing gleams. 
 Warned of approaching Winter, gathered, play 
 The swallow-people ; and tossed wide around, 
 O'er the calm sky, in convolution swift. 
 The feathered eddy floats ; rejoicing once. 
 Ere to their wintry slumbers they retire ; 
 In clusters clung, beneath the mouldering bank. 
 And where, unpiereed by frost, the cavern sweats. 
 Or rather into warmer climes conveyed. 
 With other kindred birds of season, there 
 They twitter cheerful, till the vernal months 
 Invito them welcome back : for, thronging, now 
 Innumerous wings are in I 
 
 Whore the Rhino loses his majestic force 
 In Belgian plains, won from the raging deep. 
 By diligence amazing, and the strong 
 Uncon(iuerabIe hand of Liberty, 
 The stork-assembly meets ; for many a day. 
 Consulting deep, and various, cro they take 
 Their arduous voyago through the liquid sky : 
 
 39 ^^^ 
 
 And now, their route designed, their leaders chose, 
 Their tribes adjusted, cleaned their vigorous wings; 
 And many a circle, many a short essay, 
 Wheeled round ond round, in congregation full 
 The figured flight ascends ; and riding high 
 Tho aerial billows, mixes with the clouds. 
 
 Or where the Northern Ocean, in vast whirls. 
 Boils round tho naked, melancholy isles 
 Of furthest Thuli, and the Atlantic surge 
 Pours in among the stormy Hebrides ; 
 Who can recount what transmigrations there 
 Are annual ma<le ? what nations come and go ? 
 And how the living clouds on clouds arise 'i 
 Infinite ^vings ! till all the plume-dark air 
 And rude-resounding shore are one wild cry. 
 
 >S AND FLOCKS. — EGO iSD EIDKR-DOWS 
 
 Here the plain, harmless native his small flock, 
 And herd diminutive, of many hues. 
 Tends on tho little island's verdant swell, 
 Tho shepherd's sea-girt reign ; or to tho rocks 
 Dire-clinging, gathers his ovarious food ; 
 Or sweeps the fishy shore ; or treasures up 
 The plumage, rising full, to form tho bed 
 Of luxury. 
 
 BIRD'S-EYK DESCRIPTION OF SCOTLAND. — TWEED. —JED 
 
 And here a while tho Muse, 
 High hovering o'er the broad cerulean scene. 
 Sees Caledonia, in romantic view : 
 
 PhiiiLcd ul «»M , Iri .i/AiiL- liiUi'.s between. 
 Poured out extensive, and of watery wealth 
 Full ; winding deep, and green, her fertile vales ; 
 AVith many a cool, translucent, brimming Hood 
 Washed lovely, from tho Tweed, pure parent stream. 
 Whose pastoral banks first heard my Doric reed. 
 With, syhuu Jed, thy tributary brook, — 
 To where the north-inflated tempest foams 
 O'er Orca's or Betubium's highest peak : 
 
 TUE SCOTCH PEOPLE. — WALLACE. — THE ACRORA BORSALIS. 
 
 Xurse of a people, in Misfortune's school 
 Trained up to hardy deeds ; soon visited 
 By Learning, when before the Gothic rage 
 She took her western flight. A manly race. 
 Of unsubmitting spirit, wise, and brave ; 
 Who still through bleeding ages struggled hard - 
 As well unhappy Wallace can attest. 
 Great patriot-hero ! ill-requited chief! — 
 To hold a generous, undiminished 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 flowed profuse, their piercing genius planned, 
 And swelled the pomp of peace their faithful toil : 
 
RURAL POETRY. — THOMSON. 
 
 As from tbeir own clear north, in radiant str< 
 Bright over Europe bursts the Boreal Morn. 
 
 ! is there not some patriot, in whose power 
 That best, that godlike luxury is placed, 
 Of blessing thousands, thousands yet unborn, 
 Through late posterity ? some, large of soul, 
 To cheer dejected industry ? to give 
 A double harvest to the pining swain, 
 And teach the laboring hand tlie 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 Batavian fleets 
 Defraud us of the glittering, finny swarms. 
 That heave our friths, and crowd upon our shores ; 
 How all-enlivening trade to rouse, and wing 
 The prosperous sail, from every growing port. 
 Uninjured, round the sea-encircled globe ; 
 And thus, in soul united as in name, 
 Bid Britain reign the mistress of the deep ? 
 
 E OF ARGYLE.— FORBES 
 
 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 combined, 
 Her genius, wisdom, her engaging turn. 
 Her pride of honor, and her courage tried, 
 Calm, and intrepid in the very throat 
 Of sulphurous war, on Tenier's dreadful field. 
 Nor less the palm of peace inwreathes thy brow : 
 For, powerful as thy sword, from thy rich tongue 
 Persuasion flows, and wins the high debate ; 
 While mixed 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 through her reviving arts 
 Planned by thy wisdom, by thy soul informed ; 
 And seldom has she known a friend like thee. 
 
 But sec the fading, many-colored woods, 
 Shade deepening over shade, the country round 
 Imbrown ; 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-strewn walk 
 And give the Season in its latest view. 
 
 Meantime, light shadowing all, a sober caln 
 Fleeces unbounded ether ; whose least wave 
 Stands tremulous, uncertain where to turn 
 
 The gentle current ; while, illumined wide, 
 The dewy-skirted clouds imbibe the sun, 
 And through 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 scene of things ; 
 To tread low-thoughted Vice beneath their feet ; 
 To soothe the throbbing passions into peace ; 
 And woo lone Quiet in her silent walks. 
 
 AUTUMNAL MEDrTATIVE RAMBLE. — FLOCK! 
 
 Thus solitary, and in pensive guise, 
 Oft let me wander o'er the russet mead, [heard 
 
 And through the saddened grove, where scarce is 
 One dying strain, to cheer the woodman's toil. 
 Hajily some widowed songster pours his plaint, 
 Far, in faint warblings, through the tawny copse ; 
 While congregated thrushes, linnets, larks, 
 And each wild throat, whose artless strains so late 
 Swelled all the music of the swarming shades, 
 Robbed of their tuneful souls, now shivering sit 
 On the dead tree, a dull, despondent flock ; 
 With not a brightness waving o'er their plumes, 
 And naught save chattering discord in their note. 
 ! let not, aimed 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 leat 
 Incessant rustles from the mournful grove ; 
 Oft startling such as, studious, walk below. 
 And slowly circles through the waving air. 
 But should a quicker breeze amid the boughs 
 Sob, o'er the sky the leafy deluge streams ; 
 Till, choked and matted with the dreary shower, 
 The forest-walks, at every rising gale. 
 Roll wide the withered waste, and whistle bleak. 
 Fled is the blasted verdure of the fields ; 
 And, shrunk into their beds, the flowery race 
 Their sunny robes resign. E'en what remained 
 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 softened feature, and the beating heart. 
 Pierced deep with many a virtuous pang, declare. 
 O'er all the soul his sacred influence breathes ! 
 Inflames imagination ; through the breast 
 Infuses every tenderness ; and far 
 Beyond dim earth exalts the swelling thought. 
 
AUTUMN — SEPTEMBER. 
 
 307 
 
 Ten thousand thousnnd fleet ideas, such 
 
 As never mingled with the vulgar dream, 
 
 Crowd fast into the mind's creative eye. 
 
 As fast the correspondent passions rise. 
 
 As varied, and as high : Devotion raised 
 
 To rapture, and divine astonishment ; 
 
 The love of Nature uneonfined, and, chief, 
 
 Of human race ; the largo 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 through remotest time ; 
 
 The awakened throb for virtue, and for fame ; 
 
 The sympathies of love, and friendship dear ; 
 
 With all the social offspring of the heart. 
 
 THB SOLBMS DArSTS OF NATCBB. 
 
 ! bear mo then to vast embowering shades, 
 To twilight groves, 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, through the void 
 Deep-sounding, seize ( 
 
 Or is this gloom too much ? Then lead, ye powers. 
 That o'er the garden and the rural seat 
 Preside, which shining through the cheerful land 
 In countless numbers blest Britannia sees ; 
 0, lead me to the wide-extended walks. 
 The fair majestic paradise of Stowe ! 
 Not Persian Cyrus on Ionia's shore 
 E'er saw such sylvan scenes ; such various art 
 By genius fired, such ardent genius tamed 
 By cool judicious art ; that, in the strife, 
 AU-biauteuus nature fears to be outdone. 
 And there, Pitt, thy country's early boast, 
 There let me sit beneath the sheltered slopes, 
 Or in that temple ' where, in future times. 
 Thou well shalt merit a distinguished name ; 
 And, with thy converse blest, catch the last smiles 
 Of Autumn beaming o'er the yellow woods. 
 While there with thee the enchanted round I walk, 
 The regulated wild, gay Fancy then 
 Will tread in thought the groves of Attic land ; 
 Will from thy standard taste refine her own, 
 Correct her pencil to the purest truth 
 Of nature, or, the unimpassioned shades 
 Forsaking, raise it to the human mind. 
 Or if hereafter she, with justor 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 : ! through her strain 
 Breathe thy pathetic eloquence, that moulds 
 The attentive senate, charms, persuades, exalts, — 
 Of honest Zeal the indignant lightning throws. 
 And shakes Corruption on her venal throne ! 
 1 The Temple of Virtue, in Stowe Gardens. 
 
 While thus wo talk, and through Elysian vale 
 Delighted rove, perhaps a sigh escapes : 
 What pity, Cobham, thou thy verdant files 
 Of ordered trees ahouldst hero inglorious range. 
 Instead of squadrons flaming o'er the field. 
 And long embattled hosts ! when the proud foe. 
 The faithless, vain disturber of mankind. 
 Insulting Gaul, has roused the world to war ; 
 When keen, once more, within their bounds to press 
 Those polished robbers, those ambitious slaves,' 
 The British youth would hail thy wise command. 
 Thy tempered ardor, and thy veteran skill. 
 
 ACTCM.SAL EVESI.S'O MISTS. — THE HARVF-ST MOOS. — MOOS- 
 
 The western sun withdraws the shortened day ; 
 And humid Evening, gliding o'er the sky, 
 In her chill progress, to the ground condensed 
 The vapors throws. Where creeping waters ooze, 
 Where marshes stagnate, and where rivers wind, 
 Cluster the rolling fogs, and swim along 
 The du.sky-mantlcd lawn. Meanwhile the Moon, 
 Full-orbed, and breaking through the scattered 
 
 clouds. 
 Shows her broad visage in the crimsoned east. 
 Turned to the sun direct, her spotted disk. 
 Where mountains rise, umbrageous dales descend. 
 And caverns deep, as optic tube descries, — 
 A smaller earth, gives us his blaze again, 
 Void of its flame, and sheds a softer day. 
 Now through the passing cloud she seems to stoop, 
 Now up tlie pure cerulean rides sublime. 
 Wide the pale deluge floats, and streaming mild 
 O'er the skyed mountain to the shadowy vale. 
 While rocks and floods reflect the quivering gleam. 
 The whole air whitens with a boundless tide 
 Of silver radiance, trembling round the world. 
 
 ACTUM.N-AL MKTEOBS. — FALUSG STABS. — ADBORA BOBKAI.IS. 
 — SL'PBH^TITIONS llESPECTINO UETBOIIS. 
 
 But when, half blotted from the sky, her light, 
 Fainting, permits the starry fires to burn 
 With keener lustre through the depth of heaven ; 
 Or near extinct her deadened orb appears. 
 And scarce appears, of sickly, bcamless white ; 
 Oft, in this season, silent from the north, 
 A blaze of meteors shoots : cnsweeping first 
 The lower skies, they all at once converge 
 High to the crown of heaven, and all at once 
 Relapsing quick, as quickly roascend, 
 And mix, and thwart, extinguish, and renew, 
 All ether coursing in a maze of light. 
 
 From look to look, contagious through the crowd, 
 The panic runs, and into wondrous shapes 
 The appearance throws : armies in meet array. 
 Thronged with aerial spears, and steeds of fire ; 
 Till, the long lines of full-extended war 
 In bleeding fight commixed, the sanguine flood 
 
 , To an American, this kind of ribaldry, in which no many 
 of the Knulish poeU indulge, seems anything but truth, 
 1 magnanimity, c 
 
RURAL POETRY. THOMSON. 
 
 Rolls a broad slaughter o'er the plains of lieaven. 
 As thus they scan the visionary scene, 
 On all sides swells the superstitious din, 
 Incontinent ; and busy Frenzy talks 
 Of blood and battle ; cities overturned, 
 And late at night in swallowing earthquake sunk, 
 Or hideous wrapt in fierce ascending flame ; 
 Of sallow famine, inundation, storm ; 
 Of pestilepce, and every great distress ; 
 Empires subversed, when ruling fate has struck 
 The unalterable hour : e'en Nature's self 
 Is deemed to totter on the brink of time. 
 
 Not so the man of philosophic eye. 
 And inspect sage ; the waving brightness he 
 Curious surveys, inquisitive to know 
 The causes, and materials, yet unfixed. 
 Of this appearance beautiful and new. 
 
 THE MOONLESS NIGHT. — THE STRAYED WiTFAREK. 
 
 Now black, and deep, the night begins to fall, 
 A shade immense ! Sunk in the quenching gloom, 
 Magnificent and vast, are heaven and earth. 
 Order confounded lies ; 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, bewildered, wanders through the dark, 
 Full of pale fancies, and chimeras huge ; 
 Nor visited by one directive ray. 
 From cottage streaming, or from airy hall. 
 
 Perhaps impatient as he stumbles on. 
 Struck from the root of slimy rushes, blue. 
 The wildfire scatters round, or gathered trails 
 A length of flame deceitful o'er the moss : 
 Whither decoyed by the fantastic blaze. 
 Now lost and now renewed, he sinks absorbed, 
 Rider and horse, amid the miry gulf : 
 While still, from day to day, his pining wife 
 And plaintive children 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 shows the narrow path, 
 That winding leads through pits of death, or else 
 Instructs him how to take the dangerous ford. 
 
 The lengthened night elapsed, the morning shines 
 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, robbed and murdered, in that pit 
 
 Lies the still heaving hive ! at evening snatched, 
 
 Beneath the cloud of guilt-conccaling night, 
 
 And fixed o'er sulphur ; while, not dreaming ill, 
 
 The happy people, In their waxen cells. 
 
 Sat tending public cares, and planning schemes 
 
 Of temperance, for Winter poor ; rejoiced 
 
 To mark, full flowing round, their copious stores. 
 
 Sudden the dark, oppressive steam ascends ; 
 
 And, used to milder scents, the tender race, 
 
 By thousands, tumble from their honeyed domes, 
 
 Convolved, and agonizing in the dust. 
 
 And was it, then, for this you roamed the Spring, 
 
 Intent from flower to flower? for this you toiled 
 
 Ceaseless the burning summer-heats away ? 
 
 For this in Autumn searched the blooming waste. 
 
 Nor lost one sunny gleam ? for this sad fate ? 
 
 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 wintry 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 wild ; with here and there 
 
 A helpless number, who the ruined state 
 
 Survive, lamenting weak, cast out to death. 
 
 Thus a proud city, populous and rich. 
 
 Full of the works of peace, and high iu joy. 
 
 At theatre or feast, or sunk in sleep, — 
 
 As late, Palermo, was thy fate, — is seized 
 
 By some dread earthquake, and convulsive hurled 
 
 Sheer from the black foundation, stench-involved. 
 
 Into a gulf of blue sulphureous flame. ' 
 
 WRESTLING-MATCH. 
 
 Hence every harsher sight ! for now the day, 
 O'er heaven and earth diffused, grows warm, and 
 Infinite splendor ! wide investing all. [high ; 
 
 How still the breeze ! save what the filmy thread 
 Of dew evaporate brushes from the plain. 
 How clear the cloudless sky ! how deeply tinged 
 AVith a peculiar blue ! the ethereal arch 
 How swelled immense ! amid whose azure throned. 
 The radiant sun how gay ! how calm below 
 The gilded earth ! the harvest-treasures all 
 Now gathered in, beyond the rage of storms, 
 Sure to the swain ; the circling fence shut up ; 
 And instant Winter's utmost rage defied ; 
 While, loose to festive joy, the country round 
 Laughs with the loud sincerity of mirth, [youth, 
 Shook to the wind their cares. The toil-strung 
 By the quick sense of music taught alone. 
 Leaps wildly graceful in the lively dance. 
 Her every charm abroad, the village toast. 
 Young, buxom, warm, in native beauty rich. 
 Darts not uumeaning looks ; and, where her eye 
 Points an approving smile, with double force 
 
AUTUMN — SEPTEMBER. 
 
 Tho cudgel rattles, and the wrestler twines. 
 Age too shines out ; and, garrulous, recounts 
 Tho feats of youth. Thus they rejoice ; nor th 
 That, with to-morrow's sun, their annual toil 
 Begins again tho never-ceasing round. 
 
 POMP, KLATTEHV, ASD C4RB3 OF TUB ini Ulin. 
 
 0, linow ho but his happiness, of men 
 Tho happiest ho ! who far from public rago, 
 Deep in tho vale, with a choice few retired, 
 Drinks tho pure pleasures of tho Kural Life, [gate, 
 What th"Uf;h the dome bo wanting, whoso proud 
 Kin-h nK.ruiiij;, vomits out tho sneaking crowd 
 or llatterers false, and in thoir turn abused ? 
 Vile intercourse ! What though 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 though, from utmost land and sea purveyed, 
 For him each rarer tributary life 
 Bleeds not, and his Insatiate table heaps 
 With lu.xury and death ? What though his bowl 
 Flames not with costly juice ; nor sunk in bods, 
 Oft of gay care, ho tosses out the night. 
 Or melts tho thoughtless hours in idle state ? 
 What though ho knows not those fantastic joys 
 That still amuse the wanton, still deceive ; 
 A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain ; 
 Their hollow moments undclighted all ? 
 
 TRCE HAPPISKSS. — AGRICULTURAL PLENTY 
 
 COU.-iTRY SCESERY ASD RURAL VIRTUES. 
 
 Sure peace is his ; a solid life, estranged 
 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 tho 
 
 bough. 
 When Summer reddens, and when Autumn beams ; 
 Or in tho wintry glebe whatever lies 
 Concealed, and fattens with tho richest sap : 
 These are not wanting ; nor tho milky drove, 
 Luxuriant, spread o'er all tho lowing vale ; 
 Nor bleating mountains ; nor tho chido of stroamg, 
 And hum of bees, inviting sleep sincere 
 Into tho guiltless breast, beneath tho shade, 
 Or thrown at largo amid the fragrant hay ; 
 Nor aught besides of prospect, grove, or song. 
 Dim grottoes, gleaming lakes, and fountain clear. 
 Here too dwells simple Truth ; plain Innocence ; 
 Unsullied Beauty ; sound, unbroken Youth, 
 Patient of labor, with a little pleased ; 
 Health ever blooming ; unambitious Toil ; 
 Calm Contemplation, and poetic Ease. 
 
 THB sailor's and SOLDIBr'S LIVES CONTRASTED WITH THAT 
 OF THE r ARMEH. — TOR UONEY-MAKRR } LAWVEIt } POLI- 
 TICIAN. 
 
 Let others bravo tho flood in quest of gain. 
 And beat, for joyless months, tho gloomy wave. 
 Let such as doom it glory to destroy 
 
 Rush into blood, the sack of cities seek ; 
 
 Unpierced, exulting in tho widow's wail, 1 
 
 Tho virgin's shriek, and infant's trembling cry. I 
 
 Let some, fnr-<listant from their native soil, i 
 
 Urged or by want or hardened avarice, 
 
 Find other lands beneath another sun. 
 
 Lot this through cities work his eager way, 
 
 By legal outrage and established guile, 
 
 Tho social sense extinct ; and that ferment 
 
 Mad into tumult tho seditious herd. 
 
 Or molt them down to slavery. Let these 
 
 Ensnare the wretched in tho toils of law. 
 
 Fomenting discord, and perplexing right, 
 
 An iron race ! and those of fairer front. 
 
 But ecjual inhumanity, in courts, 
 
 Delusive pomp, and dark cabals, delight ; 
 
 Wreathe the deep bow, diffuse the lying smile, 
 
 And tread tho weary labyrinth of state. 
 
 While he, from all the stormy passions free 
 That restlcs? nvn iiivlv. li-ars, and but hears. 
 At distance -:if-, th. hiiiiiiii trmpcst roar, 
 
 Wrapped L-l.Krn i ■ - i Tho fall of kings, 
 
 Tho rage of iiati.-n-, ;.ivl thr .rush of states, 
 
 Move not the man, who, from the world escaped, 
 
 In still retreats and flowery solitudes. 
 
 To Nature's voii-e attends, from month to month, 
 
 And day t.. lUy. thr .i-h th- ni-volving year ; 
 
 Admiring, ."r. I . i i , ', -ly ,-hapc ; 
 
 Feels all hir ■,, ' i ■ Ins heart; 
 
 Takes what hIi. lil- i il li>-, i,.ir thinks of more. 
 
 He, when young .'Spring prdtrudcs the bursting germs, 
 
 Marks the first bud, and sucks the healthful gale 
 
 Into his freshened soul ; her gonial 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 Temp^ wont to wave. 
 
 Or Hemus cool, reads what the muse, of these. 
 
 Perhaps, has in immortal numbers sung ; 
 
 Or what she dictates writes : and, oft an eyo 
 
 Shot round, rejoices in tho vigorous year. 
 
 RURAL ENJOYMENTS OF AUTUMN AND WINTER. — FBIBNDS ) 
 BOOKS i IMAGINATION •, FAMILY ; CUILDHES J DANCE AND 
 SONU. — LIFE OF THE ADAMIC, OR OOLDES AOE. 
 
 When Autumn's yellow lustre gilds tho world. 
 And tempts the siokled swain into tho field, 
 Seized by the general joy, his heart distends 
 With gentle throes ; and, through the tepid gleams 
 Deep musing, then ho best exerts his song. 
 E'en Winter wild to him is full of bliss. 
 Tho mighty tempest, and the honry waste, 
 Abrupt and deep, stretched o'er the buried earth. 
 Awake to solemn thought. At night the skies. 
 Disclosed, and kindled, by refining frost, 
 Pour every lustre on tho 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 ; 
 
310 
 
 RURAL POETRY. THOMSON TUSSER. 
 
 Or truth, divinely breaking on his mind, 
 
 Elates his being, and unfolds his powers ; 
 
 Or in his breast heroic virtue burns. 
 
 The touch of kindred too and love he feels ; 
 
 The modest eye, whose beams on his alone 
 
 Ecstatic shine ; the little, strong embrace 
 
 Of prattling children, twined 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, uover knew ; the life 
 
 Led by primeval ages, uncorrupt. 
 
 When angels dwelt, and God Himself, with man ! 
 
 0, 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 c.iitent, 
 
 Profusely scattered o'er the blue immense. 
 
 Show me ; their motions, periods, and their laws 
 
 Give me to scan ; through 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 animals ; and, higher still, the mind. 
 
 The varied scene of quick-compounded thought, 
 
 And where the mixing passions endless shift ; 
 
 These ever open to my ravished eye 
 
 A search the flight of time can ne'er exhaust ! 
 
 But if to that unequal, — if the blood. 
 
 In sluggish streams about my heart, forbid 
 
 That best ambition, — under closing shades, 
 
 Inglorious, 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 i 
 
 stray from Thee ! 
 
 ^usscr's "Sfjitcmlrfr's JjuslritnVri)." 
 
 Thresh seed, and to fanning, September doth cry, 
 Get plough to the field, and be sowing of rye : 
 To harrow the ridges, ere ever ye strike,^ 
 Is one piece of husbandry Sufifolk doth like. 
 
 Sow timely thy white wheat, sow rye in the dust, 
 Let seed have his longing, let soil have her lust.2 ** 
 But sow it not mixed, to grow so on land, 
 Lest rye tarry wheat, till it shed as it stand. * * 
 
 Though beans be in sowing but scattered in. 
 Yet wheat, rye, and peason, I love not too thin : 
 Sow barley and dredge with a plentiful hand. 
 Lest weed, stead of seed, overgroweth thy land. 
 No sooner a sowing, but out by and by, 
 With mother or boy, that alarum can cry ; 
 And let them be armed with sling or with bow. 
 To scare away pigeon, the rnok, and the crow.-'^ 
 Seed sown, draw a furrow, the water to drain, 
 And dyke up such ends as in harm do remain. * * 
 Saint Michel doth bid thee amend the marsh wall. 
 The brock and the crab-hole, the foreland and all.** 
 Now geld, with the gelder, the ram and the bull. 
 Sew ponds, amend dams, and sell webstcr thy wool. 
 
 1 Striking is the last ploughing before the seed is com- 
 mitted to the ground. 
 
 2 That is, adapt yourself to the natures of soils and seeds. 
 8 Crows destroy insects enough to pay for any temporary 
 
 depredations, especially if watclied during sowing ; pigeons 
 
 Out, fruit go and gather, but not in the dew, 
 With crab and the walnut, for fear of a shrew. 
 The moon in the wane, gather fruit for to last, 
 But winter fruit gather when Michel is past. * * 
 
 Fruit gathered too timely will taste of the wood, 
 Will shrink and be bitter, and seldom prove good : 
 So fruit that is shaken, and beat oflf a tree. 
 With bruising in falling, soon faulty will be. 
 
 Now burn up the bees, that ye mind for to drive, 
 At midsummer drive them, and save them alive ; 
 Place hive in good air, set southly and warm, 
 And take, in due season, wax honey and swarm. 
 
 Set hive on a plank, not too low by the ground, 
 Where herb with the flowers may compass it round; 
 And boards to defend it from north and north-east, 
 From showers and rubbish, from vermin and beast. 
 
 Wife, into thy garden, and set me a plot. 
 With strawberry roots, of the best to be got : 
 Such growing abroad, among thorns in the wood, 
 Well chosen and picked, prove excellent good. 
 The barberry, respis, and gooseberry, too, 
 Look now to be planted, as other things do : 
 The gooseberry, respis, and roses, all three, 
 With strawberries under them, trimly agree. * * 
 
 Now pluck up thy hemp, and go beat out the seed, 
 And afterward water it, as ye see need. * * 
 
Ill vo lime's "111 vita n Ilia's pastorals 
 
 EXT K ACTS. 
 
 THK GOLDES ACE DKSCRIBKO. — OBADUAL CORRDPTIOK. 
 
 Happy yo days of oUl, when every waste 
 Was like a sanctuary to the chaste ; 
 When incests, rapes, adulteries, were not known, 
 All pure as blossoms which are newly blown. 
 Maids wore as free from spots and soils within. 
 As most unblemished in the outward skin. 
 Men every plain and cottage did afford. 
 As smooth in deeds, as they were fair of word. 
 Maidens with nicri aa sisters with their brothers. 
 And men and maids conversed as with their mothers 
 Free from suspicion, or the rage of blood. 
 Strife only reigned, for all strived to be good. 
 
 8IMILB or TUB FLEDGLIKG WRBXS. 
 
 But then, as little wrens but newly fledged, 
 First by their nests, hop up and down the hedge ; 
 Then one from bough to bough gets up a tree. 
 His follow noting his agility. 
 Thinks he as well may venture as the other. 
 So fluttering from one spray unto another 
 Gets to the top, and then emboldened flies 
 Unto a height past ken of human eyes. 
 So time brought worse ; men first desired to talk, 
 Th,.n .-.«»■■ 'K-r-l : nw\ tlwi, i, ,.vUm,- vvnik ; 
 
 Th..n 1.;, . !,-;>,.;■ .i:,'. i ii'i: •! ,,, • ■'„'_'. 
 
 They eainc t., — but to «h:it 1 blush tu !.■ 
 And entered thus, rapes used were of all. 
 Incest, adultery, held as venial ; 
 The certainty in doubtful balance rests 
 If beasts did learn of men, or men of beas 
 
 And as within a landscape that doth stand 
 Wrought by the pencil of some curious hand. 
 We may descry here meadow, there a wood. 
 Here standing ponds, and there a running flood. 
 Hero on some mount a house of pleasure vaunted. 
 Where once the roaring cannon had been planted ; 
 There on a hill a swain pipes out the day. 
 Out-braving all the choristers of May. 
 A huntsman hero follows his cry of hounds, 
 Driving the hare along the fallow grounds ; 
 Whilst one at hand, seeming the sport to allow, 
 Follows the hounds, and careless leaves the plough. 
 There in another place some high-raised land 
 In pride bears out her breasts unto the strand. 
 Here stands a bridge, and there a conduit head. 
 While round a May-pole some the measures tread ; 
 There boys the truant play and leave their book — 
 
 Hero stands an angler with a baited hook. 
 There for a stag one lurks within a bough — 
 Here sits a maiden milking of her cow. 
 There on a goodly phiin, by Time thrown down. 
 
 Lies buried in his do -I fin :in i i.wii; 
 
 Who now in-villagi'l. 1 i " 
 
 In its vast ruins whui :i i- . n ; 
 And all of these in sliiul-.tt.- .-.. i.v,.u..ocd 
 Make the beholder's eyes to take no rest. * * 
 
 TWO DATS DESCRIBED. 
 
 Now had the sun, in golden chariot hurled, 
 Twice bid good-morrow to the nether world ; 
 And Cynthia, in her orb and perfect round. 
 Twice viewed the shadows of the upper ground. 
 Twice had the day-star ushered forth the light ; 
 And twice the evening star proclaimed the night. 
 Ere once the sweet-faced boy (now all forlorn) 
 Came with his pipe to rc-saluto the morn. * * 
 
 In Winter's time when hardly fed the flocks, 
 And icicles hung dangling on the rocks, 
 AVhen H.vcm. l.nmi.l tlip fl"f-I;s in silver chains. 
 And hoary I'i'-i - ii;i'l - .m-li' 'i ill il" plains; 
 AVhenev.'n Isim n.n- unii iIm- ; in,. Iiiiig flails. 
 And shcplml-' \>"\- I i r,,|il -an lii w their nails : 
 Wearied with tciil in seeking out sonic one 
 That had a spark of true devotion ; 
 It was my chance, chance only helpeth need. 
 To find an house 'ybuilt for holy deed. 
 With goodly architect, and cloisters wide, 
 With groves and walks along a river's side ; 
 The place itself afforded admiration. 
 And every spray a theme of contemplation. 
 But, woe is me, when knocking at the gate, 
 I 'gan to entreat an entrance thereat : 
 The porter asked my name, I told ; he swelled. 
 And bade me thence ; wherewith in grief repelled, 
 I sought for shelter to a ruined house. 
 Harboring the weasel, and the dust-bred mouse ; 
 And others none, except the two-kind but. 
 Which all the day there melancholy sat ; 
 Here sat I down with wind and rain sore beat, 
 Orief fed my mind, and did my body ent : 
 Yet Idleness I saw, lamed with the gout. 
 Had entrance when poor truth was kept without. 
 There saw I Drunkenness, with dropsies swollen : 
 And pampered Lust, that many a night had stolon 
 Over the abbey-wall when gates were locked. 
 To be in Venus' wanton bosom rocked : 
 
RURAL POETRY. — W. BROWNE. 
 
 And Gluttony, that surfeiting had been, 
 Knock at the gate and straightway taken i 
 Sadly I sat, and sighing grieved to see 
 Their happiness, my infelicity. * * * 
 
 By this had Cbanticleer, the village cock, 
 Bidden the good wife for her maids to knock. 
 And the swart pi cu finnan for his breakfast stayed, 
 That Ii' Ml :j!ii htl ill ' Iiuids where fallow laid. 
 The iiill HI I i!i. iM re und there resound 
 AVitli ih i :■ .l-ep-raouthed hound. 
 
 Each ^heplirid .. diiu^Uur, with her cleanly pail, 
 Was cume a field tu milk the morning's meal. 
 And ere the sun had climbed the eastern hills, 
 To gild the muttering bournes and pretty rills, 
 Before the laboring bee had left the hive, 
 And nimble fishes, which in rivers dive, 
 Began to leap, and catch the drowned fly — 
 I rose from rest, not in felicity. 
 truth's unsdccessful search after aid and comfort. — 
 
 Seeking the phi'<' "I i iu i i: > '• r.-ort. 
 Unawares I h:i]i|MiM l ■■■■ :i i 1 1 , '^ rnurt ; 
 Where meeting *.i..:i. , i . , i, ..1 relief. 
 ' 0, happy undt.da_w.'i." -h.: .-,u4 in Wrief, 
 
 * To small effect tiiine oratory tends — 
 How can I keep thee and so many friends? 
 If of my household I should make thee one, 
 Farewell my servant Adulation. 
 
 I know she will not stay when thou art there, 
 But seek some great man's service other where. 
 Darkness and light, Summer and Winter's weather. 
 May bo at once, ere you two live together.' 
 Thus with a nod she left me clothed in woe ; 
 Thence to the city once I thought to go, 
 But somewhat in my mind this thought had thrown, 
 ' It was a place wherein I was not known.' 
 And therefore went unto these homely towns, 
 Sweetly environed with the daisied downs. 
 
 Upon a stream washing a village end 
 A mill is placed, that never difference kend 
 'Twixt days for work, and holy tides for rest, 
 But always wrought and ground the neighbor's grist. 
 Before the door I saw the miller walking. 
 And other two (his neighbors) with him talking. 
 One of them was a weaver, and the other 
 The village tailor, and his trusty brother ; 
 To them I came, and thus my suit began : 
 
 * Content, the riches of a countryman, 
 Attend your actions, be more happy still, 
 Than I am hapless ; and as yonder mill, 
 Though in his turning it obey the stream, 
 Yet by the headstrong torrent from his beam 
 Is unremoved, and till the wheel be tore, 
 
 It daily toils ; then rests, and works no more. 
 So in life's motion may you never be 
 (Though swayed with griefs) overborne with misery. 
 With that tho miller, laughing, brushed his clothes. 
 Then swore, by cock and other dunghill oaths. 
 
 I greatly was to blame, that durst so wade 
 Into the knowledge of a wheelwright's trade. 
 I, neighbor, quoth the tailor (then he bent 
 His pace to me, sprilce like a Jack of Lent), 
 Your judgment is not seam-rent when you spend it. 
 Nor is it botching, for I cannot mend it. 
 And, maiden, let me tell you, in displeasure. 
 You must not press the cloth you cannot measure : 
 But let your steps be stitched to wisdom's chalking, 
 And cast presumptuous shreds out of your walking. 
 The weaver said, Fie, wench, yourself you wrong, 
 Thus to let slip the shuttle of your tongue ; 
 For mark me well, yea, mark me well, I say, 
 I see you work your speech's web astray. 
 Sad to the soul, o'erlaid with idle words, 
 
 heaven, quoth I, where is the place affords 
 A friend to help, or any heart that ruth 
 The most dejected hopes of wronged Truth ! 
 Truth ! quoth the miller, plainly for our parts, 
 
 1 and the weaver hate thee with our hearts ; 
 The strifes you raise I will not now discuss, 
 Between our honest customers and us. 
 
 But get you gone, for sure you may despair 
 Of comfort here, seek it some other where. 
 Maid, quoth the tailor, we no succor owe you. 
 For, as I guess, here 's none of us doth know you ; 
 Nor my remembrance any thought can seize 
 That I have ever seen you in my days. 
 Seen you? nay, therein confident I am : 
 Nay, till this time I never heard your name, 
 Excepting once, and by this token chief. 
 My neighbor at that instant called me thief. 
 By this you see you are unknown among us ; 
 We cannot help you, though your stay may wrong us. 
 
 Just half the way this solitary grove, 
 A crystal spring from either hill-side strove. 
 Which of them first should woo the meeker ground. 
 And make the pebbles dance unto their sound. 
 But as when children having leave to play, 
 And near the master's eye sport out the day, 
 Beyond condition, in their childish toys, 
 Oft vex their tutor with too great a noise, 
 And make him send some servant out of doors, 
 To cease their clamor, lest they play no more ; 
 So when the pretty rill a place espies. 
 Where with the pebbles she would wantonize ; 
 And that her upper stream so much doth wrong her, 
 To drive her thence, and let her play no longer, 
 If she with too loud muttering ran away. 
 As being much incensed to leave her play ; 
 A western, mild, and pretty whispering gale, 
 Came dallying with the leaves along the dale, 
 And seemed as with the water it did chide, 
 Because it ran so long unpacified. 
 Yea, and methought it bade her leave that coil, 
 Or he would choke her up with leaves and soil ; 
 Whereat the rivulet in my mind did weep. 
 And hurled her head into a silent deep. * * 
 
' SEPTEMBER. 
 
 313 
 
 THB FOUR SKAttoSS. 
 
 And as the year hath first his jocund Spring, 
 Wherein the leaves, to birds' sweet carolling. 
 Dance with the wind ; then sees the Summer'a day 
 Perfect the cinbryon blossom of each spray. 
 Ne.\t comoth Autumn, when the thrcshi-d sheaf 
 Loseth his grain, and ovory troc his leaf. 
 Lastly, cold Winter's rage, with many a storm, 
 Threats the proud pines which Ida's top adorn, 
 And makes the sap leave suocorless the shoot, 
 Shrinking to comfort his decaying root. * * 
 
 TUB EFFECT OF 
 
 COMPABED TO 
 
 When Riot came, the lady's pnins nigh done, 
 She passed the gate, and then Kemorso began 
 To fetter Riot in strong iron chains ; 
 And doubting much his patience in the pains. 
 As when a smith and 's man (lame Vulcan's fellows) 
 Called from the anvil or the puffing bellows, 
 To clap a well-wrought shoe, for more than pay, 
 I'pon a stubborn nag of Galloway ; 
 Or unbacked jennet, or 0, Flanders mare. 
 That at the furgo stand sniffing of the air. 
 The swarthy smith spits in his buckhorn fist. 
 And bids his men bring out the five-fold twist. 
 His shackles, shacklocks, hampers, gyves and chains, 
 llis linked bolts ; and with no little pains 
 These make him fast; and lest all these should falter. 
 Unto a post with some six-doubled halter 
 He binds his head ; yet all are of the least 
 To curb the fury of the headstrong beast ; 
 When if a carrier's jade he brought unto him. 
 His man can hold his foot whilst ho can shoe him. 
 Remorse was so enforced to bind him stronger, 
 lieoiuse his faults required infliction longer, 
 Than any sin-pressed wight which many a day, 
 Since Judas hung himself, had passed that way. * * 
 
 THE ANOLEB. 
 
 Xow as an angler melancholy standing 
 Upon a green bank yielding room for landing, 
 A wriggling yellow worm thrust on his hook. 
 Now in the midst he throws, then in a nook ; 
 Here pulls his line, there throws it in again. 
 Mending his crook and bait, — but all in vain, 
 He long stands viewing of the curled stream ; 
 At last a hungry pike, or well-grown bream, 
 Snatch at the worm, and hasting fast away, — 
 He knowing it a fish of stubborn sway, 
 Pulls up his rod, but soft, as having skill ; 
 Wherewith the hook fast holds the fisli's gill. 
 Then all his lino ho freely yicldeth him. 
 Whilst furiously all up and down doth swim 
 The ensnared fish ; here on the top doth scud, 
 There underneath the banks, then in the mud ; 
 And with his frantic fits so scares the shoal, 
 That each one takes his hide or starting hole : 
 By this the pike clean wearied, underneath 
 A willow lies, and pants (if fishes breathe). 
 Wherewith the angler gently pulls him to him, 
 
 And lest his haste might happen to undo him. 
 Lays down bis rod, then takes his lino in hand 
 And by degrees getting the fish to lanil. 
 Walks to another pool : at length is winner 
 Of such a dish us serves him for his dinner. * 
 
 Then, as a nimble squirrel from the wood. 
 Ranging the hedges for his filbert food, 
 Sits partly on a bough his brown nuts cracking, 
 And from the shell the sweet white kernel taking. 
 Till, with their crooks and bags, a sort of boys. 
 To share with him, come with so great a noise, 
 That he is forced to leave a nut nigh broke, 
 And for his liff leup tu a iKi;;hbor oak ; 
 T1hii>' ■ !■■ .1 I" ' ' ii, tiH I!' ■ ; .1 v'vi of ashes ; 
 A^llll ' i!] :i :ii I < .irjil red water plashes 
 
 'rii. ' . I I _ : ii;;h thick and thin ; 
 
 Tliis, turn and tattered, halli with much ado 
 Got by the briers ; and that hath lost his shoo ; 
 This drops his band ; that headlong falls for hasto ; 
 Another cries behind for being last : 
 With sticks and stones and many a sounding hollow, 
 Tho littlo fool with no small sport they follow ; 
 Whilst he, from tree to tree, from spray to spray. 
 Gets to the wood, and hides him in his dray. » * 
 
 And as a lonely maiden, pure and chaste. 
 With naked, ivory neck, and gown nnlaced. 
 Within her chainl.rr, -n-hr,, tlu -l:iv i ^ flr.l, 
 Makes poor In i _ .i n, ■ 1^1 : 
 
 First puts sill- i.it Im'i 1:1 '. '.i I • .■> I. 
 That shrieks l-r .n,i,,n ,, J,, i,,i- n .1 ,,im ; 
 And with her anus grac-rtli a waisti-oat line, 
 Embracing her as it would ne'er untwine. 
 Her flaxen hair ensnaring all beholders. 
 She next permits to wave about her shoulders, 
 And though she oast it back, the silken slips 
 Still forward steal, and hang upon her lips ; 
 Whereat she, sweetly angry, with her laces 
 Binds up the wanton locks in curious traces, [gcrs. 
 Whilst twisting with her joints each hair long lin- 
 As loath to bo enchained but with her fingers. 
 Then on her heail a dressing like a crown ; 
 Her breasts all bare, her kirtlc slipping down, 
 And all things off (which rightly ever bo 
 Called the foul-fair marks of our misery) 
 Except her last, which enviously doth seize hor. 
 Lest any eye partake with it in pleasure. 
 Prepares for sweetest rest, while sylvans greet her. 
 And longingly tho down bed swells to meet hor. 
 So by degrees his shape, all brutish wild. 
 Fell from him, as loose skin fVom some young ohild; 
 In lieu whereof a man-liko shape appears. 
 And gallant youth soaroo skilled in twenty years. 
 So fair, so fresh, so young, so admirable 
 In every part, that sinoe I am not ablo 
 
314 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — W. BROWNE. 
 
 In words to show his picture, gentle swains 
 Recall the praises in my former strains, 
 And know if they have graced any limb, 
 I only lent it those, but stole 't from him. 
 
 Thrice sacred powers ! (if sacred powers there be 
 AYhose mild aspect engarland poesy) 
 
 Yc liappr >i-trr.^ of the learned spring, 
 
 Whu.^c 111 ;[\i Illy n.'li - the woods are ravishing ! 
 
 Brav<- i ii' pi, Ml TiLii'lriis. at whose charming lays 
 
 Each ML.i^-iliiiuiilHii lUDuntain bends, each current 
 
 Pierian fingeis ! 0, ye blessed muses ! [plays ! 
 
 Who as a gem too dear the world refuses ! 
 
 Whose truest lovers never clip with age, 
 
 0, bo pi-upitliMis in my i-ll-rirna-c ! 
 
 Dwfll (Ml my liiir. ' ,111, 1 ml iIm. last sand fall, 
 
 Run li;n,ii in IduhI \\ nii my wuk pastoral ! 
 
 Cause t'vm-y miipliii^ radcni-"' tl<i\v iu bUsses, 
 
 And fill the world with envy uf such kisses. 
 
 Make all the rarest beauties of our clime, 
 
 That deign a sweet look on my younger rhyme, 
 
 To linger on each line's enticing graces 
 
 As on their lover's lips and chaste embraces ! * * 
 
 But here I must digress, yet pardon, swains ; 
 For as a maiden gathering on the plains 
 A scentful nosegay to set near her pap. 
 Or as a favor for her shepherd's cap, 
 Is seen far off to stray, if she have spied 
 A flower that might increase her posy's pride ; 
 So if to wander I am sometimes pressed, 
 'T is for a strain that might adorn the rest. 
 
 Requests that with denial could not meet 
 Flew to our shepherd, and the voices sweet 
 Of fairest nymphs entreating him to say 
 What wight he loved ; he thus began his lay : 
 
 Shall I tell you whom I love ? 
 
 Hearken then a while to me ; 
 
 And if such a woman move 
 
 As I now shall versify ; 
 
 Be assured 't is she, or none, 
 
 That I love and love alone. 
 
 Nature did her so much right, 
 
 As she scorns the help of art, 
 
 In as many virtues dight 
 
 As e'er yet embraced a heart. 
 
 ,So much good so truly tried, 
 
 Some for less were deified. 
 
 Wit she hath without desire 
 
 To make known how much she hath ; 
 And her anger flames no higher 
 
 Than may fitly sweeten wrath. 
 Full of pity as may bo. 
 Though, perhaps, not so to me. 
 
 Reason masters every sense, 
 
 And her virtues grace her birth ; 
 Lovely as all excellence. 
 
 Modest in' her most of mirth : 
 Likelihood enough to prove 
 Only worth could kindle love. 
 Such she is : and if you know 
 
 Such a one as I have sung ; 
 Be she brown, or fair, or so 
 
 That she be but somewhile young ; 
 Be assured 't is she, or none. 
 That I love, and love alone. * * 
 
 The gentle shepherd, hastening to the shore, 
 Began this lay, and timed it witti his oar : 
 
 Nevermore let holy Dee 
 
 O'er other rivers brave. 
 Or boast how, in his jollity. 
 
 Kings rode upon his wave. 
 But silent be, and ever know 
 That Neptune for my fare would row. 
 Those were captives. If he say 
 
 That now I am no other. 
 Yet she that bears my prison's key 
 
 Is fairer than love's mother ; 
 A god took me, those one less high, 
 They wore their bonds, so do not I. 
 Swell, then, gently swell, ye floods, 
 
 As proud of what ye bear, 
 And nymphs that in low coral woods 
 
 String pearls upon your hair. 
 Ascend ; and tell if ere this day 
 A fairer prize was seen at sea. 
 See the salmons leap and bound 
 
 To please us as we pass. 
 Each mermaid on the rocks around 
 
 Lets fall her brittle glass : 
 As they their beauties did despise. 
 And loved no mirror but your eyes. 
 Blow, but gently blow, fair wind. 
 
 From the forsaken shore. 
 And be as to the halcyon kind. 
 
 Till we have ferried o'er : 
 So may'st thou still have leave to blow, 
 And fan the way where she shall go. 
 Floods, and nymphs, and winds, and all 
 
 That see us both together. 
 Into a disputation fall ; 
 
 And then resolve me, whether 
 
 The greatest kindness each can show, 
 
 Will quit our trust of you or no ? 
 
 Thus as a merry milk-maid, neat and fine, 
 
 Returning late from milking of her kine. 
 
 Shortens the dew'd way which she treads along 
 
 With some self-pleasing, since new-gotten song, 
 
 The shepherd did their passage well beguile. * 
 
Crash's "|)arisb |lcf(istcr. 
 
 ISTRODccilos. The 'VillaKe Bcfjister considered, as contain- [ 
 tag principally the Annals or the Poor. State of the peas- 
 antry as iiR-liuiMl,'(l hy rni;;;ility lliul induslry. Tlie Cot- 
 
 PORTBAITS. The child of the miller's daughter, and relation 
 of her misfortune. A fruiral couple : their liind of frugal- 
 ity. Plea of the mnther of a nntiirnt child ■ her churching. 
 Larpe family of Gerard Al)litt ■ lii^ :i(.iircti.-ii.;iiiii'* : com- 
 
 INTROD0CTION. 
 TUB SCBJECT STATKD ', AN'.NALS OP THE PARISH. 
 
 The year revolves, and I again explore 
 The simple annals of my parish poor ; 
 What infant members, in my flock, appear ; 
 What pairs I blest, in the departed year ; 
 And who, of old or young, of nymphs or swains, 
 Are lost to life, its pleasures and its pains. 
 
 No muse I ask, before my view to bring 
 The humble actions of the swains I sing. — 
 How passed the youthful, how the old their days. 
 Who sank in sloth, and wli.. :i-).ii.>i ti^ [-lai-e ; 
 Their tempers, manners, m >i li m i [u , ;nts. 
 What parts they had, aiiii hn in i ini l-i .:.! their 
 By what elated, soothed, seduce d, iln>tc^ocd, [parts; 
 Full well I know — these records give the rest. 
 
 so RURAL PABADISB EXISTS. 
 
 Is there a place, save one the poet sees, 
 A land of love, of liberty, and case ; 
 Where labor wearies not, nor cares suppress 
 Th' eternal flow of rustic happiness ; 
 Where no proud mansion frowns in awful state. 
 Or keeps the sunshine from the oottagc-gato ; 
 Whore young and old, intent on pleasure, throng. 
 And half man's life is holiday and song ? 
 Vain search for scenes like those ! no view appears. 
 By sighs unruffled or unstained by tears ; 
 Since Vice the world subdued, and waters drowned, 
 Auburn and Edeti can no more be found. 
 
 Hence good and evil mixed, but man has skill 
 
 And power to part them, when ho feels the will ; 
 Toil, care, and patience, bless th' abstemious few ; 
 Fear, shame, and want, the thoughtless herd pursue. 
 Behold the cot ! where thrives th' industrious 
 j swain, 
 
 Source of his pride, his pleasure, and his gain ; 
 Screened from the winter's wind, the sun's last ray 
 Smiles on the window and prolongs the day ; 
 Projecting thatch the woodbine's branches stop, 
 
 And turn their blossoms to the casement's top : 
 
 All need requires is in that cot contained. 
 
 And much that taste untaught and unrestrained 
 
 Surveys delighted ; there she loves to traco 
 
 In one gay picture all the royal race ; 
 
 At. nihil tlif walls aro heroes, lovers, kings ; 
 
 I i ml ihat shows them, and the verse that sings. 
 
 Above the mantel, bound with riband blue. 
 The swain's emblazoned Arms demand our view. 
 
 In meadow vert, there feeds in i/ulrji a cow. 
 Beneath an argent share and sablf jilough ; 
 While for a crest an azure arm sustains 
 In or a wheat-shcaf, rieli with bristling grains. 
 
 There is Km- i i,.,, I, ., ;,,.■! ;ill his Golden Rules, 
 Whoprovnl Mil, I Ml. I' :i- the best of schools ; 
 
 And there III , i, :,in ti nil by years of pain, 
 
 Whoprovml nil I II - iiiiv lie sent in vain. 
 
 The magir-iM'il 'nii -n.i i In ■ j^rau'nains young. 
 Close at III- li i '. Ina hung ; 
 
 She, of h.i In, .nil ill.. III,. |,rideandjoy. 
 Of charms at once in.i>t lavish and most coy ; 
 By wanton act the purest fame could raise. 
 And give the boldest deed the chastest praise. 
 
 There stands the stoutest ox that England fed ; 
 There fights the boldest Jew, Whitcohapel bred ; 
 And hero Saint Monday's worthy votaries live, 
 In all the joys that ale and skittles give. 
 
 Now, lo ! on Egypt's coast, that hostile fleet, 
 That nations dreaded and that Nelson beat ; 
 And hero will soon that other fleet be shown. 
 That Nelson made the ocean's and our own. 
 Distressing glory ! grievous boon of fate ! 
 The proudest conquest, at the dearest rate. 
 
 BOOKS OF THE LABORER'S COT. 
 
 On shelf of deal beside the euekoo-olock 
 Of cottage-reading rests the chosen stock ; 
 Learning we lack, not books, but have a kind 
 For all our wants, a meat for every mind : 
 The tale for wonder, and the joke for whim, 
 The half-sung sermon, and the half-groanod hymn. 
 
316 
 
 RURAL POETRY. • 
 
 No need of classing ; each within its place 
 The feeling finger in the ilark can trace ; 
 ' First from the corner, furthest from the wall,' 
 Such all the rules, and they sufBoe for all. 
 
 BIBLE COMMENTATORS SATIRIZED. 
 
 There pious works for Sunday's use are found, 
 Companions for that Bible newly bound ; 
 That Bible, bought by si.\penoe weekly saved. 
 Has choicest prints by famous hands engraved ; 
 Has choicest notes by famous heads made out. 
 That teach the simple reader where to doubt ; 
 That make him stop to reason whi/ 'I and how ? 
 And where he wondered then, to cavil now. 
 ! rather give me commentators plain. 
 Who with no deep researches vex the brain ; 
 Who from the dark and doubtful love to run, 
 And hold their glimmering tapers to the sun ; 
 Who simple truth with nine-fold reasons back. 
 And guard the point no enemies attack. 
 
 Bunyan's famed pilgrim rests that shelf upon j 
 A genius rare but rude was honest John ; 
 Not one who, early by the Muse beguiled. 
 Drank from her well the waters undefiled ; 
 Not one who slowly gained the hill sublime, 
 Then often sipped, and little at a time ; 
 But one who dabbled in the sacred springs, 
 And drank them muddy, mixed with baser things. 
 
 Here to interpret dreams we read the rules, 
 Science our own ! and never taught in schools ; 
 In moles and specks we Fortune's gifts discern. 
 And Fate's fixt will from Nature's wanderings learn. 
 
 Of hermit Quarle we read in island rare, 
 Far from mankind and seeming far from care ; 
 Safe from all want and sound in every limb. 
 Yes ! there was he, and there was care with him. 
 
 Unbound and heaped these valued works beside, 
 Laid humbler works, the pedler's pack supplied ; 
 Yet these, long since, have all acquired a name ; 
 The Wandering Jew has found his way to fame ; 
 And fame, denied to many a labored song, [strong. 
 Crowns Thumb the great, and Hickerthrift the 
 
 There too is he, by wizard-power upheld. 
 Jack, by whose arm the giant-brood were quelled ; 
 His shoes of swiftness on his feet he placed ; 
 His coat of darkness on his loins he braced : 
 His sword of sharpness in his hand he took, 
 And off the heads of doughty giants stroke ; 
 Their glaring eyes beheld no mortal near ; 
 No sound of feet alarmed the drowsy ear ; 
 No English blood their Pagan sense could smell, 
 But heads dropt headlong, wondering why they fell. 
 
 These hear the parent swain, reclined at ease. 
 With half his listening offspring on his knees. 
 
 THE cotter's gardes \ CIVES | LEEKS ; PDLSE ; HERBS i 
 APPLES; CHERRIES-, NUTS.— FLOWER PATCH. 
 
 To every oot the lord's indulgent mind 
 
 ! The careful peasant plies the sinewy arm : 
 Warmed as he works?, and casts his look around 
 On every foot of that improving ground ; 
 It is his own he sees ; his master's eye 
 Peers not about, some secret fault to spy ; 
 Nor voice severe is there, nor censure known ; — 
 Hope, profit, pleasure, — they are all his own. 
 Here grow the humble cives, and hard by them. 
 The tall leek, tapering with his rushy stem ; 
 High climb bis pulse in many an even row, 
 Deep strike the ponderous roots in soil below, 
 And herbs of potent smell and pungent taste 
 Give a warm relish to the night's I'epast. 
 Apples and cherries grafted by his hand, 
 And clustered nuts, for neighboring market stand. 
 
 Nor thus concludes his labor ; near the cot. 
 The reed-fence rises round some favorite spot ; 
 Where rich carnations, pinks with purple eyes. 
 Proud hyacinths, the least some florist's prize. 
 Tulips tall-stemmed, and pounced auriculas, rise. 
 
 Here on a Sunday eve, when service ends. 
 Meet and rejoice a family of friends ; 
 All speak aloud, are happy, and are free. 
 And glad they seem, and gayly they agree. 
 
 What, though fastidious ears may shun the speech, 
 Where all are talkers, and where none can teach ; 
 Where still the welcome and the words are old. 
 And the same stories are forever told ; 
 Yet theirs is joy that, bursting from the heart. 
 Prompts the glad tongue these nothings to impart ; 
 That forms these tones of gladness we despise. 
 That lifts their steps, that sparkles in their eyes ; 
 That talks, or laughs, or runs, or shouts, or plays, 
 And speaks in all their looks and all their ways. 
 
 Fair scenes of peace ! ye might detain us long. 
 But Vice and Misery now demand the song ; 
 And turn our view from dwellings simply neat, 
 To this infected row, we term our Street. 
 
 Here, in cabal, a disputatious crew 
 Each evening meet ; the sot, the cheat, the shrew ; 
 Riots are nightly heard, the curse, the cries 
 Of beaten wife, perverse in her replies ; [hand. 
 
 While shrieking children hold each threatening 
 And sometimes life and sometimes food demand : 
 Boys in their first stol'n rags to swear begin. 
 And girls, who knew not sex, are skilled in gin : 
 Snarers and smugglers here their gains divide. 
 Ensnaring females here their victims hide ; 
 j And here is one, the sibyl of the row, 
 [ Who knows all secrets, or affects to know ; 
 Seeking their fate, to her the simple run j 
 To her the guilty, theirs a while to shun ; 
 ' Mistress of worthless arts, depraved in will, 
 I Her care unblest, and unrepaid her skill, 
 
AUTUMN — SEPTEMBER. 
 
 817 
 
 Slave to tho tribe, to whose command she stoops, 
 And poorer than the poorest maid she dupes. 
 
 FILTH AND WRIiTCniniNISS iBOCT THE ' BOW.'— DOOS ", 
 VICIOUS DOYS. 
 
 Between the road-way and the walls, otfenoe 
 Invades all eyes ond strikes on every sense ; 
 There lie, obscene, at every open door. 
 Heaps from the hearth and sweepings from the floor; 
 And day by day tho mingled masses grow. 
 As sinks are disembogued and gutters flow. 
 
 There hungry dogs from hungry children steal. 
 There pigs and chickens quarrel for a meal ; 
 There dropsied infants wail without redress. 
 And all is want, and woe, and wretchedness : 
 Yet should those boys, with bodies bronzed and bare, 
 High-swol'n and hard, outlive that lack of care — 
 Forced on some farm the uncxortcd strength. 
 Though loth, to action is compelled at length. 
 When warmed by health, as serpents in the Spring, 
 Aside their slough of indolence they fling. 
 
 I Pistols are bore, unpaired ; with nets and hooks, 
 I Of every kind, for rivers, ponds, and brooks ; 
 An ample flask, that nightly rovors fill. 
 With recent poison from the Dutchman's still ; 
 A box of tools with wires of various sine, 
 Frocks, wigs, and hata, for night or day disguise, 
 And bludgeons stout to gain or guard a prize. 
 
 inK NEGLECTED PATCH. — iDODES OF VIC1003 POVEBTY. 
 
 To every house belongs a space of ground. 
 Of equal size, once fenced with paling round ; 
 That paling now by slothful waste destroyed, 
 Dead gorso and stumps of elder fill the void ; 
 Save in the centre-spot, whose walls of clay 
 Hide sots and striplings at their drink and play ; 
 Within, a board, beneath a tiled retreat, 
 Allures tho bubble and maintains tho cheat ; 
 Where heavy ale in spots like varnish shows, 
 Where chalky tallies yet romain in row^i ; 
 Black pipes and br.ik' I ■ ' 'Mile, 
 
 The walls and wind, i « i , i ngs vile ; 
 
 Prints of the meam-i i ' """i 
 
 And cards, in curses t - : " the floor. 
 
 Yet ere they go, a greater evil comes — 
 See crowded beds in those contiguous rooms ; 
 Beds but ill parted, by a paltry screen. 
 Of papered lath or curtain, dropped between ; 
 Daughters and sons to yon compartments creep, 
 And parents hero beside their children sleep ; 
 Y'e who have ]...«■..., ili. ->■ np.i,_.l,fl. -^ i-.].!.- part. 
 Nor let the car 1 
 
 Come! search v.r .. ■ i , I i.^'ard; 
 
 The true phy3ii'i;iii «,i!l,- iln rul. -i \\.ii.|. 
 See ! on the floor, what frowzy patches re.t ! 
 What nauseous fragments on yon fractured chest ! 
 What downy-<lust beneath yon window-seat ! 
 And round these posts that serve this bed for feet ; 
 This bed where all those tattered garments lie. 
 Worn by each sex, and now perforce thrown by. 
 
 OP THE MISERY 
 
 See ! as we gaze, an infant lifts its head, 
 Left by neglect and burrowed in that bed ; 
 The mother-gossip has tho lovo supprest. 
 An infant's cry one« wakened in her breast j 
 And il;i!lv prnttin; n.i her round she takes 
 (With -ii"Li^ ir , mill, i.t) of the want she makes. 
 
 Wlnu' ■ ill '!"■ r v\ T^? — from want of virtuous 
 Ofhoi»-i Ikimi' . . it tiuie-iiuproving skill ; [will, 
 From want of care, to employ the vacant hour. 
 And want of every kind, but want of power. 
 
 so IMPUEMKSTS OF IXDCSIBT i .VOK BOOKS, BIT SOSCS ; 
 LIQCOR, DISOCISES, CARDS, PICK-LOCKS, BLCDOKOSS, ETC. 
 
 Hero are no wheels for either wool or flox, 
 But packs of cards made up of sundry packs ; 
 Here is no clock, nor will they turn the glass, 
 And see how swift th' important moments pass ; 
 There are no books, but ballads on tho wall. 
 Are some abusive, and indecent all ; 
 
 Here his poor bird th' inhuman cocker brings. 
 Arms his hard heel, and clips his golden wings ; 
 With spicy food the impatient spirit feeds. 
 And shouts and curses as the battle bleeds : 
 Struck through the brain, deprived of both his eyes, 
 Tho vanquished bird must combat till he dies ; 
 Must faintly peck at his victorious foe. 
 And reel and stagger at each feeble blow ; 
 When fallen, tho savage grasps his dabbled plumes. 
 His blood-stained arms, for other deaths assumes ; 
 And damns the craven-fowl, that lost his stoke. 
 And only bled and perished for his sake. 
 
 PEASANTS ; PAUPERS ) FARMERS. 
 
 Such are our peasants, those to whom we yield 
 Glories unsought, the fathers of the field ; 
 And these who take from our reluctant bands 
 What Burn advises or tho bench commands. 
 
 Our farmers round,well-plcased with constant gain, 
 Like other farmers, flourish and complain. — 
 These arc our groups, our portraits next appear, 
 I And close our exhibition for tho year. 
 
 Turn porro puer (ut sicvia projectus ab uniiis, 
 Niiviw) mirtus huml jacet infans indlgus omnl 
 
 Vitali iiuxilio, 
 
 Vftfrituque locum lugubri complet, ut roquum ( 
 
 Lucretius, de Nat. Rcrum, lib. 
 
 THE MILLER'S DAOOnTRR ; A TALE OF SIX AND SOR« 
 
 With evil omen, we that year begin : 
 A child of shame — stern .lustice adds, of sin- 
 Is first recorded ; — I would hide the deed, 
 But vain tho wish ; I sigh, and I proceed : 
 
318 
 
 RURAL POETRY. CRABBE. 
 
 And could I well the instructive truth convey, 
 'T would warn the giddy and awake the gay. 
 
 Of all the nymphs, who gave our village grace, 
 The miller's daughter had the fairest face. 
 Proud was the miller ; money was his pride ; 
 He rode to market, as our farmers ride ; 
 And 't was his boast, inspired by spirits, there, 
 His favorite Lucy should be rich as fair ; 
 But she must meek and still obedient prove, 
 And not presume, without his leave, to love. 
 
 A youthful sailor heard him ; — ' Ha ! ' quoth he, 
 ' This miller's maiden is a prize for me ; 
 His charms I love, his riches I desire. 
 And all his threats but fan the kindling fire ; 
 My ebbing purse no more the foe shall fill. 
 But love's kind act and Lucy at the mill.' 
 
 Thus thought the youth, and soon the chase began, 
 Stretched all his sail, nor thought uf pause or plan : 
 His trusty staff in his bold hand he took, 
 Like him, and like his frigate, Heart of Oak ; 
 Fresh were his features, his attire was new ; 
 Clean was his linen, and his jacket blue ; 
 Of finest jean his trousers tight and trim. 
 Brushed the large buckle, at the silver rim. 
 
 He soon arrived, he traced the village-green. 
 There saw the maid, and was with pleasure seen ; 
 Then talked of love, till Lucy's yielding heart 
 Confessed "t was painful, though 't was right, to part. 
 
 'For ah ! my father has an haughty soul ; 
 Whom best he loves, he loves but to control ; 
 Me to some churl in bargain he '11 consign, 
 And make some tyrant of the parish mine ; 
 Cold is his heart, and he, with looks severe. 
 Has often forced, but seldom shed the tear ; 
 Save when my mother died, some drops expressed 
 A kind of sorrow for a wife at rest : — 
 To me a master's stern regard is shown, 
 I 'm like his steed, prized highly as his own ; 
 Stroked but corrected, threatened when supplied. 
 His slave and boast, his victim .and his pride.' 
 
 ' Cheer up, my lass ; I '11 to thy father go. 
 The miller cannot be the sailor's foe ; 
 Both live by heaven's free gale that plays aloud 
 In the stretched canvas and the Jiiping shroud ; 
 The rush of winds, the flapping sails above. 
 And rattling planks within, are sounds we love ; 
 Calms are our dread ; when tempests plough the 
 Wo take a reef, and to the rocking sleep.' [deep, 
 
 THE MrLLEn's ANSWER TO THE SAILOR'S SflT. 
 
 ■Ha ! ' quo-th the miller, moved at speech so rash, 
 ' Art thou like me ? Then where thy notes and cash ? 
 Away to Wapping, and a wife command. 
 With all thy wealth, a guinea, in thine hand ; 
 There with thy messmates quaff the muddy cheer, 
 And leave my Lucy for thy betters here.' 
 
 THE SAILOR'S REVENGE. - 
 
 ' Revenge ! revenge ! ' the angry lover cried. 
 Then sought the nymph, and 'Be thou now my 
 
 bride.' 
 Bride had she been, but they no priest could move 
 To bind in law the couple bound by love. 
 
 What then was left, these lovers to requite ? 
 But stolen moments of disturbed delight ; 
 Soft trembling tumults, terrors dearly prized. 
 Transports that pained, and joys that agonized : 
 Till the fond damsel, pleased with lad so trim. 
 Awed by her parent and enticed by him ; 
 Her lovely form from savage power to save, 
 Gave — not her hand — but all she could she gave. 
 
 Then came the days of shame, the grievous night, 
 The varying look, the wandering appetite ; 
 The joy assumed, while sorrow dimmed the eyes, 
 The forced sad smiles that followed sudden sighs. 
 And every art, long used, but used in vain. 
 To hide thy progress. Nature, and thy pain. 
 
 Too eager caution shows some danger 's near. 
 The bully's bluster proves the coward's fear ; 
 His sober step the drunkard vainly tries. 
 And nymphs e.xpose the failings they disguise. 
 
 First, whispering gossips were in parties seen ; 
 Then louder scandal walked the village-green ; 
 Next babbling folly told the growing ill. 
 And busy malice dropt it at the mill. 
 
 ' Go ! to thy curse and mine,' the father said, 
 ' Strife and confusion stalk around thy bed ; 
 Want and a wailing brat thy portion be. 
 Plague to thy fondness as thy fault to me, 
 
 Where skulks the villain?' 
 
 ' On the ocean wide, 
 
 My William seeks a portion for his bride.' 
 
 'Vain be his search ! but till the traitor come, 
 The Higler's cottage be thy future home ; 
 There with his ancient shrew and Care abide. 
 And hide thy head, thy shame thou canst not hide.' 
 
 LDCY A MOTHER, BUT NOT A WIFE. — WILLIAM DIES AT SEA. 
 
 Day after day were past in grief and pain, 
 Week after week, nor came the youth again ; 
 Her boy was born — no lads nor lasses came 
 To grace the rite or give the child a name ; 
 Nor grave conceited nurse, of office proud, [crowd: 
 Bore the young Christian, roaring, through the 
 In a small chamber was my office done. 
 Where blinks thro' papered panes the setting sun ; 
 Where noisy sparrows, perched on pent-house near, 
 Chirp tuneless joy and mock the frequent tear ; 
 Bats on their wcbby wings in darkness move, 
 And feebly shriek tlieir melancholy love. 
 
 No SEiilpr came ; the months in terror fled ! 
 Then news arrived ; ho fought, and he was dead. 
 
 At the lone cottage Lucy lives, and still 
 Walks, for her weekly pittance, to the mill : 
 
AUTUMN — SEPTEMBBR. 
 
 319 
 
 A moan sornglio there her father keeps, 
 Whoso mirth insults her, as she stands and weeps ; 
 And socs tho plenty, while conipollod to stay. 
 Her father's pride become his harlots' prey. 
 
 Throughout the lanes she glides at evening's oloso, 
 There softly lulls her infant to repose ; 
 Then sits and gazes, but with viewless look, 
 As gilds the moon the rimpling of tho brook ; 
 Theu sings her vcspors, but in voice so low, 
 She hears their murmurs as tho waters flow ; 
 And she, too, munnurs, and begins to find 
 The solemn wanderings of a wounded mind ; 
 Visions of terror views of woo succeed, 
 The mind's impatience to the body's need ; 
 By turns to that, by turns to this a prey. 
 She knows what reason yields, and dreads what 
 madness may. 
 
 Has in a diBcrent mode a sovereign away : 
 As tides the same attractive influence know 
 In the least ebb and in their proudest flow ; 
 The wise frugality that does not give 
 A life to saving, but that saves to live. 
 Sparing not pinching, mindful though not m 
 O'er all presiding, yet in nothing seen. 
 
 ANOTUER BAPTISM.- 
 
 , CHILD OP X PHOSTITITB. 
 
 ASOTBER BAPTISM ; 
 
 FRUGAL, COMUONFLACB, CONTENTED 
 
 Noxt«i.l. . 
 
 II 1. 1 .1 Jvccnt couple came. 
 
 And.'iill. 1 
 
 t was his father's name 
 
 ThrCL-;;::: , 
 
 ; i , 1 ly time endeared, 
 
 And lilt uu l-.a 
 
 li.-. wiiu neither hoped nor feared 
 
 Blest in each other, but to no excess ; 
 Health, quiet, comfort, formed their happiness ; 
 Love, all made up of torture and delight, 
 Was but more madness in this couple's sight ; 
 Susan could think, though not without a sigh. 
 If she were gone, who should her place supply ; 
 And Robert, half in earnest, half in jest. 
 Talk of her spouse when ho should be at rest ; 
 Yet strange would cither think it to be told, 
 Tlieir love was cooling or their hearts were cold ; 
 Few wore their acres, — but thoy, well content. 
 Were, on each pay-day, ready with their rent ; 
 And few their wishes — what their farm denied. 
 The neighboring town at trifling cost supplied ; 
 If at the draper's window Susan cast 
 A longing look, as with her goods she passed ; 
 And with the produce of the wheel and churn 
 Bought her a Sunday robe on her return ; 
 True to her maxim, she would take no rest, 
 Till care repaid that portion to the chest : 
 Or if, when loitering at tho Whitsun-fair, 
 Her Hubert spent some idle shillings there ; 
 Up at the barn, before the break of day. 
 He made his labor for th' indulgence pay ; 
 Thus bo^h — that wiste itself might work in vain - 
 Wrought double tides, and all was well again. 
 
 THEIR CURISTBSINGS AND WEDDING-DAY FESHVALS. — Wl 
 FRUOALITV. 
 
 Yet though so prudent, there were times of joy, - 
 Tho day they wed, the christening of tho boy, — 
 When to the wealthier farmers there was shown 
 Welcome unfeigned, and plenty like thoir own ; 
 For Susan served the great, and had some pride, 
 Among our topmost people to preside ; 
 Yet in that plenty, in that welcome free, 
 There was the guiding nice frugality ; 
 That in the festal as the frugal day. 
 
 Recorded next a babe of love I trace ! 
 Of many loves, the mother's fresh disgrace ; — 
 ' Again, thou harlot ! could not all thy pain. 
 All ray reproof, thy wanton thoughts restrain 7 ' 
 
 ' Far other thoughts, your Reverence, caused tho 
 'T was pure good-nature, not a wanton will ; [ill. 
 They urged mo, paid me, begged mo to comply, 
 Not hard of heart or slow to yield am I, 
 But prone to grant, as melting charity. 
 For wanton wishes, let the frail ones smart, 
 But all my failing is a tender heart.' 
 
 For rite of churching soon she made her way, 
 In dread of scandal, should she miss the day ; 
 Two matrons came ! with them she humbly knelt, 
 Their action copied, and their comforts felt. 
 From that great pain and peril to be free. 
 Though still in peril of that pain to be ; 
 Alas ! what numbers, like this amorous Jamc, 
 Are quick to censure, but are dead to shame. 
 
 Twin-infants then appear, a girl, a boy. 
 The o'erflowing cup of Gerard Ablett's joy : 
 Seven have I named, and but six years have past 
 By him and Judith siin-.- I l.niiiu! ttn-m ixst ; [vine 
 
 Well pleased, the brill liiar — 'A 
 
 Fruitful and sprpi^i I lie thine. 
 
 And branch-like I" j' — Gerard 
 
 Looked joyful l.v, mil il> -iiii. ■ Amen.' [theu 
 Nowoftlial I 111' 111 wilt I III! more increase. 
 Those playliil li inlii- n-.u 'li-lurbcd his peace ; 
 Thi-m ho liilii.l I 111.1111.1 Lis tiible spread. 
 But iiii.l , til. 111. 11. thu branch, tho less the bread ; 
 Ami, uiiili til. \ mil liis humbled walls about, 
 Thi y ki I'll tin -uii-Line of good-humor out. 
 
 i BICU HAN'S 
 
 Cease, man, to grieve ! thy master's lot survey. 
 Whom wife and children, thou and thine, obey ; 
 A farmer, proud beyond a farmer's pride. 
 Of all around the envy or the guide ; 
 Who trots to market on a steed so line, 
 That, when I meet him, I 'm ashamed of mine ; 
 Whose board is high up-hoaped with generous fare, 
 Which five stout sons and three tall daughters share: 
 Goose, man, to grieve ; and listen to his care. 
 A few years fled, and all thy hoys shall be 
 Lords of a cot, and laborers like thee ; 
 Thy girls unportioned neighboring youths shall lead. 
 Brides from my church, and thenceforth thou art 
 freed. 
 
320 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 But then thy master shall of cares complain, 
 Care after oare, a long connected train ; 
 His sons for farms shall ask a large supply, 
 For farmers' sons each gentle miss shall sigh ; 
 Thy mistress, reasoning well of life's decay, 
 Shall ask a chaise, and hardly brook delay ; 
 The smart young Cornet, who, with so much grace, 
 Rode in the ranks and betted at the race. 
 While the vexed parent rails at deed so rash. 
 Shall d — n his luck, and stretcli his hand for cash. 
 Sad troubles, Gerard ! now pertain to thee, 
 When thy rich master seems from trouble free ; 
 But 't is one fate at different times assigned, 
 And thou shalt lose the cares that he must find. 
 
 * Ah ! ' quoth our village grocer, rich and old, 
 * Would I might one such cause for care behold ! ' 
 To whom his friend, * Mine greater bliss would be 
 Would heaven take those my spouse assigns to me. ' 
 
 Aged were both; that Dawkins, Ditchem this, 
 Who much of marriage thought, and much amiss ; 
 Both would delay : the one, till, riches gained. 
 The son he wished might be to honor trained ; 
 His friend, lest fierce intruding heirs should come, 
 To waste his hoard, and vex his quiet home. 
 
 SKETCH OF DAWKISS. — SKETCH OF DITCHEM. 
 
 Dawkins, a dealer once, on burthened back 
 Bore his whole substance in a pedler's pack ; 
 To dames discreet, the duties yet unpaid, 
 His stores of lace and hyson he conveyed : 
 When thus enriched, he chose at home to stop. 
 And fleece his neighbors in a new-built shop ; 
 Then wooed a spinster blithe, and hoped, when wed, 
 For love's fair favors and a fruitful bed. 
 
 Not so his friend ; — on widow fair and staid 
 He fixed his eye, but he was much afraid ; 
 Yet wooed ; while she his hair of silver hue 
 Demurely noticed, and her eye withdrew. 
 Doubtful he paused. — ' Ah ! were I sure,' he cried, 
 ' No craving children would my gains divide ; 
 Fair as she is, I would my widow take, 
 And live more largely for my partner's sake.* [past, 
 With such their views, some thoughtful years they 
 And, hoping, dreading, they were bound at last. 
 And what their fate ? Observe them as they go. 
 Comparing fear with fear, and woe with woe, 
 
 'Ah! Humphrey ! Humphrey ! Envy in my breast 
 Sickens to see thee in thy children blest ; 
 They are thy joys, while I go grieving home, 
 To a sad spouse and our eternal gloom ; 
 We look despondency ; no infant near, 
 To bless the eye, or win the parent's ear ; 
 Our sudden heats and quarrels to allay, 
 And soothe the petty sufferings of the day : 
 Alike our want, yet both the want reprove. 
 Where are, I cry, these pledges of our love ? 
 When she, like Jacob's wife, makes fierce reply, 
 Yet fond — " ! give me children, or I die ;" 
 
 And I return, still childless doomed to live, 
 
 Like the vexed patriarch, *' Are they mine to give ? " 
 
 Ah ! much I envy thee thy boys, who ride 
 
 On poplar branch, ^nd canter at thy side ; [know, 
 
 And girls, whose cheelts thy chin's fierce fondness 
 
 And with fresh beauty at the contact glow.* 
 
 DITCHEM'S reply. — HIS THICK-COMING MISEHIES. 
 
 ' 0, simple friend,' said Humphrey, ' wouldst thou 
 A father's pleasure, by a husband's pain? [gain 
 Alas ! what pleasure, when some vigorous boy 
 Should swell thy pride, some rosy girl thy joy ? 
 Is it to doubt, who grafted this sweet flower, 
 Or whence arose that spirit and that power? 
 
 ' Four years I 've wed ; not one has past in vain : 
 Behold the fifth ! Behold, a babe again ! 
 My wife's gay friends the unwelcome imp admire. 
 And fill the room with gratulation dire ; 
 While I in silence sate, revolving all ! 
 That influence ancient men, or that befall ; [came; 
 A gay pert guest — Heaven knows his business — 
 A glorious boy, he cried, and what the name ? 
 Angry I growled. *' My spirit cease to tease ! 
 Name it yourselves, — Cain, Judas, if you please ! 
 His father's give him, should you that explore. 
 The devil's or yours : " I said, and sought the door. 
 My tender partner not a word or sigh 
 Gives to my wrath, not to my speech reply ; 
 But takes her comforts, triumphs in my pain, 
 And looks undaunted for a birth again.' 
 
 Heirs thus denied afflict the pining heart. 
 And thus afforded jealous pangs impart ; 
 To prove these arrows of the giant's hand 
 Are not for man to stay or to command. 
 Then with their infants three the parents came. 
 And each assigned — 'twas all they had — a name: 
 Names of no mark or price ; of them not one 
 Shall court our view on the sepulchral stone ; 
 Or stop the clerk, the engraven scrolls to spell. 
 Or keep the sexton from the sennon-bell. 
 
 An orphan girl succeeds : ere she was born, 
 Her father died; her mother, on that morn ; 
 The pious mistress of the school sustains 
 Her parents' part, nor their affection feigns. 
 But pitying feels ; with due respect and joy, 
 I trace the matron at her loved employ ; 
 What time the striplings, wearied eVn with play. 
 Part at the closing of the Summer's day, [way. 
 
 And each by different path returns the well-known 
 Then I behold her at her cottage door. 
 Frugal of light ;— her Bible laid before. 
 When on her double duty she proceeds. 
 Of time as frugal ; knitting as she reads : 
 Her idle neighbors, who approach to tell 
 Of news or nothing, she by looks compels 
 To hear reluctant, while the lads who pass 
 In pure respect walk silent on the grass ; 
 Then sinks the day, but not to rest she goes, 
 Till solemn prayers the daily duties close. 
 
AUTUMN — SEPTEMBER. 
 
 821 
 
 But I digress, and, lo ! an infant train 
 Appear, and call me to my task again. 
 
 I OARDENBR 1K» ni8 Hill 
 LEARNKD NAMKS OF BABSS AXD KLOWERS. 
 
 ■ Why Loniccrft wilt thou name thy child? ' 
 I asked the gardener's wife, in accent mild. 
 ' Wo have a, right,' replied the sturdy dame ; 
 And Loniocra was the infant's name. 
 If next a son shall yield our gardener joy. 
 Then Hyacinthus shall be that fair boy j 
 And if a girl, they will at length agree 
 That Belladonna that fair maid shall be. 
 
 Iligh-aounding words our worthy gardener gets, 
 And at bis club to wondering swains repeats : 
 lie then of Rhus and Rhododendron speaks, 
 And Allium calls his onions and his leeks ; 
 Nor- weeds are now, for whence arose the weed 
 Scarce plants, fair herbs and curious flowers, proceed ; 
 Where cuckoo-pints and dandelions sprung — 
 Oross names had they, our plainer sires among ; — 
 There arums, there leontodons, we view. 
 And artcniisia grows where wormwood grew. 
 
 But tliough no weed e.\ists, his garden round, 
 From 'rumex' strong our gardener frees his ground. 
 Takes soft 'senecio' from the yielding land. 
 And grasps tho armed ' urtica' in his hand. 
 
 DARWIK AND PETER PRATT. — LOVES OF THE PLANTS. — 
 SCIENCE AND PniLOSOPUT. 
 
 Not Darwin's self had more delight to sing 
 Of floral courtship, in the awakened Spring, 
 Than Peter Pratt, who simpering loves to tell 
 How rise the stamens as the pistils swell ; 
 llow bend and curl their moist top to the spouse, 
 And give and take the vegetable vows ; 
 Uow those esteemed of old but tips and chives 
 Are tender husbands and obedient wives ; 
 Who live and love within the sacred bower, — 
 That bridal bed the vulgar term a flower. 
 
 Hear Peter proudly, to some humble friend, 
 A wondrous secret in his science lend. 
 ' Would you advance the nuptial hour, and bring 
 The fruit of Autumn with the flowers of Spring ; 
 View that light frame where cucumis lies spread. 
 And trace the husbands in their golden bed, 
 Three turgid anthers ; — then no more delay. 
 But haste and bear them to their spouse away ; 
 In a like bed you'll see that spouse reclined, — 
 0! haste and bear them, they like love are blind, — 
 Then by thyself, from prying glance secure. 
 Twirl the full tip and make the marriage sure ; 
 A long-abiding race the deed shall pay. 
 Nor one unblest abortion pine away.' 
 To admire their friend's discourse our swains agree. 
 And call it science, and philosophy. 
 
 HOW TO STCDT BOTAST, NATCnAL UISTORV, ETC. ; SA.MtS. 
 
 'T is good, 'tis pleasant, through tho advancing 
 To see unnumbered, growing forms appear ; [year. 
 What leafy-like from earth's broad bosom rise ! 
 What insect myriads seek the summer skies ! 
 What scaly tribes in every streamlet move I 
 
 41 
 
 What plumy people sing in every grove ! 
 All with the year awaked, to life's great duty. Love. 
 Then names are good, for how, without their aid 
 Is knowledge gained by man, to man conveyed? 
 But from that source shall all our pleasure flow? 
 Shall all our knowledge bo those names to know ? 
 Then he with memory blest shall bear away 
 The palm from (irew, and Middleton, and Ray ; 
 No ! let us rather seek in grove and field 
 What food for wonder, what for use, they yield ; 
 Some just remark from Nature's people bring, 
 And some new source of homage for her Ring. 
 
 Pride lives with all ; strange names our rustics 
 To helpless infanta, that their own may live; [give 
 Pleased to be known, some notice they will claim, 
 And find some by-way to the house of fame. 
 
 The straightest furrow lifts the ploughman's heart, 
 Or skill allowed him in the bruiser's art ; 
 The bowl that boats the greater number down 
 Of tottering nine-pins, gives to fame the clown ; 
 Or, foiled in these, he opes his ample jaws. 
 And lets a frog leap down, to gain applause ; 
 Or grins for hours, or tipples for a week. 
 Or challenges a well-pinched pig to squeak ; 
 Some idle deed, some child's preposterous name. 
 Shall make him known, and give his folly fame. 
 
 To name an infant met our village sires. 
 Assembled all, as such event requires ; 
 Frequent and full the rural sages sate. 
 And speakers many urged the long debate. 
 Some hardoni'il kiiav.--, who r.ivod the country round, 
 Ha<lleftu li:.i- 1. iilun ih- p;irish bound. 
 First, of til.' 1,1.1 ili.i .|i:. ii..ii<-d. • Was it true ? ' 
 
 Tho child wj I ..jii ■ Wlmt thenremained todo?' 
 
 'Was't (l».;i.l . 1. , ; _ ' 1 III-; was fairly proved ; 
 'Twos pin. li. I I I I I .very doubt removed. 
 
 Then by ivhii i . ki.mo guest to call 
 
 Wn-l..n.^. . . ■ I, i n ,,„.,ed them all ; 
 
 1'. r ' ■, ■ I [,;iiiie to babe unknown, 
 
 ''. '. I L'lit take it for his own. 
 
 '1'1..> Ik. I iK 111, ihey asked tho name of all, 
 Ami 11. .t ..no Ki.-hiird answered to the call ; 
 Next they inquired the day when, passing by. 
 The unlucky peasant heard the stranger's cry. 
 Thi.-- kn'.wn, h'.w f.ind and raiment they might give, 
 \\:i- II. \t .I.l.,i{..l — f.ir the rogue would live. 
 At l.-i, Willi ,tll tii.-ir words and work content, 
 lia. k t.. ili.ir h..iii..,s tho prudent vestry went. 
 And Richard Monday's to the work-house sent. 
 
 EDICATION OP A PARISH ForXDLISO ; HIS ABJECT CONDI- 
 TION, AND TEMPER ; HE ELOPES. 
 
 There was he pinched and pitied, thumped and fed. 
 And duly took his beatings and his bread ; 
 Patient in all control, in all abuse, 
 He found contempt and kicking have their use : 
 Sad, silent, supple ; bending to the blow, 
 A slave of slaves, tho lowest of the low ; 
 His pliant soul gave way to all things base, 
 
322 
 
 EUKAL POETRY. 
 
 - CRABBE. 
 
 He knew no shame, he dreaded no disgrace ; 
 
 It seemed, so well his passions he suppressed, 
 
 No feeling stirred his ever-torpid breast. 
 
 Him might the meanest pauper bruise and cheat, 
 
 He was a foot-stool for the beggar's feet ; 
 
 His were the legs that ran at all commands ; 
 
 They used, on all occasions, Richard's hands ; 
 
 His very soul was not his own ; he stole 
 
 As others ordered, and without a dole : 
 
 In all disputes, on either part he lied, 
 
 And freely pledged his oath on either side ; 
 
 In all rebellions, Richard joined the rest, 
 
 In all detections, Richard first confessed ; 
 
 Yet, though disgraced, he watched his time so well. 
 
 He rose in favor, when in fame he fell ; 
 
 Base was his usage, vile his whole employ, 
 
 And all despised and feed the pliant boy : 
 
 At length, "Tis time he should abroad be sent,' 
 
 AVas whispered near him, — and abroad he went ; 
 
 One morn they called him, Richard answered not. 
 
 They doomed him hanging, and in time forgot, — 
 
 Yet missed him long, as each, throughout the clan, 
 
 Found he ' had better spared a better man.' 
 
 bIR R. MONDAr ; mS WEALTH AND WORTH HIS LEGACY. 
 
 Now Richard's talents for the world were fit ; 
 He 'd no small cunning, and had some small wit ; 
 Had that calm look that seemed to all assent, 
 And that complacent speech that nothing meant ; 
 He 'd but one care, and that he strove to hide. 
 How best for Richard Monday to provide. 
 Steel through opposing plates the magnet draws, 
 And steely atoms culls from dust and straws ; 
 And thus our hero, to his interest true, 
 Gold through all bars and from each trifle drew ; 
 But still more sure about the world to g[i. 
 This Fortune's child had neither friend nor foe. 
 
 Long lost to us, at last our man we trace, — 
 Sir Richard Monday died at Monday-place ; 
 His lady's worth, his daughter's, we peruse, 
 And find his grandsons all as rich as Jews ; 
 He gave reforming charities a sum, 
 And bought the blessings of the blind and dumb ; 
 Bequeathed to missions money from the stocks, 
 And Bibles issued from his private bo.x ; 
 But to his native place, severely just. 
 He left a pittance bound in rigid trust ; 
 Two paltry pounds on every quarter's-day 
 (At church produced), for forty loaves should pay ; 
 A stinted gift, that to the parish shows 
 He kept in mind their bounty and their blows. 
 
 BARNABT, TOE FARMER'S BUTT. 
 
 To farmers three the year has given a son. 
 Finch on the moor, and French, and Middleton ; 
 Twice in this year, a female Giles I see, 
 A Spalding once, and once a Barnaby ; 
 An humble man is he, and when they meet, 
 Our farmers find him on a distant seat ; 
 There for their wit he serves a constant theme ; 
 They praise his dairy, they extol his team ; 
 
 They ask the price of each unrivalled steed, 
 And whence his sheep, that admirable breed ; 
 His thriving arts they beg he would explain, 
 And where he puts the njoney he must gain : — 
 They have their daughters, but they fear their friend 
 Would think his sons too much would condescend ; 
 They have their sons who would their fortunes try. 
 But fear his daughters will their suit deny. 
 So runs the joke, while James, with sigh profound. 
 And face of care, keeps looking on the ground ; 
 These looks and sighs provoke the insult more. 
 And point the jest — for Barnaby is poor. 
 
 Last in my List, five untaught lads appear ; 
 Their father dead. Compassion sent them here : 
 For still that rustic infidel denied 
 To have their names with solemn rite applied : 
 I His, a lone house, by Dead-man's Dyke-way stood ; 
 And his, a nightly haunt in Lonely-wood. 
 Each village inn has heard the ruifian boast 
 That he believed ' in neither God nor ghost ; 
 That when the sod upon the sinner pressed. 
 He, like the saint, had everlasting rest ; 
 That never priest believed his doctrines true, 
 But would, for profit, own himself a Jew, 
 Or worship wood and stone, as honest heathen do ; 
 That fools alone on future worlds rely. 
 And all who die for faith deserve to die.' 
 
 These maxims part the attorney's clerk professed. 
 His own transcendant genius found the rest. 
 Our pious matrons heard, and much amazed 
 Gazed on the man, and trembled as they gazed ; 
 And now his face explored, and now his feet, 
 Man's dreaded Foe, in this bad man, to meet : 
 But him our drunkards as their champion raised. 
 Their bishop called, and as their hero praised ; 
 Though most, when sober, and the rest, when sick, 
 Had little question whence his bishopric. 
 But he, triumphant spirit ! all things dared, 
 He poached the wood and on the warren snared ; 
 'T was his at cards each novice to trepan. 
 And call the wants of rogues the rights of man • 
 Wild as the winds he let his offspring rove. 
 And deemed the marriage bond the bane of love. 
 
 What age and sickness for a man so bold 
 Had done, we know not ; — none beheld him old : 
 By night, as business urged, he sought the wood. 
 The ditch was deep, the rain had caused a flood ; 
 The foot-bridge failed, he plunged beneath the deep, 
 And slept, if truth were his, the eternal sleep, [sail. 
 These have we named ; on life's rough sea they 
 With many a prosperous, many an adverse gale ; 
 Where passions soon, like powerful winds, will rage. 
 While wearied Prudence with their strength engage; 
 Then each, in aid, shall some companion ask 
 For help or comfort in the tedious task ; 
 .•\nd what that help, what joys from union flow. 
 What good or ill, we next prepare to show ; 
 And row, meantime, our weary bark ashore, 
 As Spencer his, but not with Spencer's oar. 
 
Iluval (i^ts 
 
 for ^uiuist. 
 
 LLOYD'S " COUNTRY BOX." 
 
 Well, then, suppose them fixed at last. 
 
 
 White-washing, painting, scrubbing paat, 
 
 The wealthy cit, grown old in trade, 
 
 Hugging themselves in ease and clover, 
 
 Now wishes for the rural shade, 
 
 With all the fuss of moving over ; 
 
 And buckles to his one-horse ehair 
 
 Lo ! a new heap of whims are bred, 
 
 Old Dobbin or the foundered mare ; 
 
 And wanton in my lady's head. 
 
 While, wedged in closely by his side, 
 
 ' Well, to be sure it must be owned. 
 
 Sits Madam, his unwieldy bride, 
 
 It is a charming spot of ground ; 
 
 With Jacky on a stool before 'em. 
 
 So sweet a distance for a ride, 
 
 And nnt thfv jn^ in due decorum. 
 
 And all about so counlryfied ! 
 
 -•.•"'• iiiii.ikohalf a mile, 
 
 'T would come but to a trifling price 
 
 I [ v seems to smile ! 
 
 To make it quite a paradise. 
 
 i . .i^.g together, 
 
 I cannot bear those nasty rails. 
 
 ■]' Mho road and weather. 
 
 Those ugly, broken, mouldy pales : 
 
 Wliil.' .M.i.l.im .l..ti.'S upon the trees. 
 
 Suppose, my dear, instead of these. 
 
 And longs for every house she sees ; 
 
 We build a railing, all Chinese : 
 
 Admires its views, its situation. 
 
 Although one hates to be exposed, 
 
 And thus she opens her oration : 
 
 'T is dismal to be thus enclosed ; 
 
 ' What signify the lo.uls of wealth, 
 
 One hardly any object sees — 
 
 M'ithout that richest jewel, health ' 
 
 I wish you'd fell those odious trees. 
 
 Excuse the fondness of a wife. 
 
 Objects continual passing by 
 
 Who dotes upon your precious life ! 
 
 Were something to amuse the eye ; 
 
 Such ceaseless toil, such constant care, 
 
 But to be pent within the walls — 
 
 Is more than human strength can bear ! 
 
 One might as well be at St. Paul's. 
 
 One may observe it in your face — 
 
 Our house beholders would adore, 
 
 Indeed, my dear, you break apace : 
 
 Was there a level lawn before. 
 
 And nothing can your health repair, 
 
 Nothing iU views to incommode. 
 
 But exercise and country air ; 
 
 But quite laid open to the road ! 
 
 Sir TraOic has a house, you know. 
 
 M'hile every traveller in amaze 
 
 About a mile from Cheney-Row ; 
 
 Should on our little mansion gaze. 
 
 He's a good man, indeed 't is true. 
 
 And, pointing to the choice retreat, 
 
 But not so " warm," my dear, as you : 
 
 Cry, that's Sir Thrifty 's country-scat.' 
 
 And folks are always apt to sneer — 
 
 No doubt her arguments prevail. 
 
 One would not be out-done, my dear ! ' 
 
 For Madam's taste can never fail. 
 
 Sir Traffic's name, so well applied. 
 
 Blest ago ! when all men may procure 
 
 Awaked his brother-merchant's pride. 
 
 The title of a connoisseur ; 
 
 And Thrifty, who had all his life 
 
 When noble and ignoble herd 
 
 Paid utmost deference to his wife, 
 
 Are governed by a single word ; 
 
 Confessed her argument had reason, 
 
 Though, like the royal German dames. 
 
 And by th' approaching summer season 
 
 It bears an hundred Christian names ; 
 
 Draws a few hundreds from the stocks. 
 
 As genius, fancy, judgment, gout. 
 
 And purchases his country-box. 
 
 
 1 Some three or four miles out of town 
 
 Which appellations all describe 
 
 (An hour's ride will bring you down). 
 
 Taste, and the modem tasteful tribe. 
 
 Ue fixes on his choice abode. 
 
 Now, bricklayers, carpenters, and joiners, 
 
 Not half a furlong from the road : 
 
 With Chinese artists and designers. 
 
 And so convenient does it lay. 
 
 Produce their schemes of alteration, 
 
 The stages pass it every day : 
 
 To work this wondrous reformation. 
 
 And then so snug, so mighty pretty. 
 
 The useful dome, which secret stood, 
 
 To have a house so near the city ! 
 
 Embosomed in the yew-tree's wood, 
 
 Take but your places at the Boar, 
 
 The traveller with amazement sees 
 
 You 're set down at the very door. 
 
 A temple, Gothic, or Chinese, 
 
ETJRAL POETRY. CHEETHAM ROGERS COLERIDGE. 
 
 With many a bell, and tawdry rag on, 
 And crested with a sprawling dragon ; 
 A wooden arch is bent astride 
 A ditch of water, four feet wide. 
 With angles, curves, and zigzag lines, 
 From Halfpenny's exact designs. 
 In front, a level lawn is seen. 
 Without a shrub upon the green ; 
 Where taste would want its first great law, 
 But for the skulking, sly ha-ha. 
 By whose miraculous assistance. 
 You gain a prospect two-fields' distance. 
 And now from Hyde-Park corner come 
 The gods of Athens and of Rome. 
 Here squabby Cupids take their places. 
 With Venus, and the clumsy Graces ; 
 Apollo there, with aim so clever. 
 Stretches his leaden bow forever ; 
 And there, without the power to fly. 
 Stands fixed a tip-toe Mercury. 
 
 The villa thus completely graced, 
 All own that Thrifty has a taste ; 
 And Madam's female friends, and cousins, 
 With common-council men by dozens, 
 Flock every Sunday to the seat, 
 To stare about them — and to eat. 
 
 CHEETHAM'S "HAPPY MEAN." 
 
 Happv the man, from busy cares withdrawn. 
 
 Who seeks the sweets of rural ease, 
 
 AVhere every spot has power to please. 
 
 The rugged mountain and the verdant lawn. 
 
 He shuns the deathful din of war. 
 
 The dreadful trumpet's bray ; 
 Though cannons thunder from afar, 
 
 He hears without dismay. 
 Nor when the threatening billows rise, 
 
 And blackening clouds appear, 
 Does he with horror view the skies. 
 
 And Neptune's fury fear. 
 No golden dreams of fame or wealth 
 
 Disturb his humbler views, 
 With peace of mind and blooming health 
 
 His labor he pursues. 
 Contented with his rustic plains. 
 Luxurious revels he disdains. 
 When now the rosy-bosumed morn 
 
 Tinges the east with gilded ray, 
 And, on her silent courses borne. 
 
 Serenely ushers in the day, 
 The lonely voice of Chanticleer 
 
 Calls him from his humble bed ; 
 Unfolded soon his fleecy care appear. 
 
 And, bleating, stray along the distant mead. 
 
 But when the beauteous Autumn rears, 
 With various fruitage crowned, her head, 
 
 Vhen waves the golden plain with ripened ears. 
 And clustered grapes their purple fragrance shed. 
 How does it glad his raptured heart. 
 Devoid of all -the, luxuries of art. 
 To reap the product of his toil, 
 Sweeter from his native soil ! 
 When the daily task is done. 
 With the sober-setting sun. 
 
 How untainted his delight. 
 Underneath his straw-built shade. 
 Where nor grief nor cares invade, 
 
 Mirthfully to waste the night. 
 Where his merry, sunburnt wife. 
 Partner of his happy life, 
 
 Meets her spouse with open arms ; 
 While his numerous infant line 
 Round his knees in gambols twine ; 
 
 Every hour is full of charms. 
 
 ROGERS'S "ITALIAN COT." 
 
 Dear is my little native vale, 
 
 The ring-dove builds and murmurs there 
 Close by my cot she tells her tale 
 
 To every passing villager ; 
 The squirrel leaps from tree to tree. 
 And shells his nuts at liberty. 
 
 In orange groves and myrtle bowers, 
 That breathe a gale of fragrance round, 
 
 I charm the fairy-footed hours 
 
 ^Vitli my loved lute's romantic sound ; 
 
 Or crowns of living laurel weave 
 
 For those that win the race at eve. 
 
 The shepherd's horn at break of day, 
 The ballet danced in twilight glade. 
 
 The canzonet and roundelay 
 
 Sung in the silent greenwood shade ; 
 
 These simple joys, that never fail. 
 
 Shall bind me to my native vale. 
 
 OLERIDGE'S " DOMESTIC PEACE.' 
 Tell me on what holy ground 
 May Domestic Peace be found — 
 Halcyon daughter of the skies ! 
 Far, on fearful wings, she flies. 
 From the pomp of sceptred state, 
 From the rebel's noisy hate. 
 In a cottaged vale she dwells. 
 Listening to the Sabbath bells ! 
 Still around her stops are seen 
 Spotless Honor's meeker mien ; 
 Love, the sire of pleasing fears ; 
 Sorrow, smiling through her tears ; 
 And, conscious of the past employ, 
 Memory, bosom spring of joy. 
 
C(arc's "lU'ohcn lijrart;" 
 
 OK, TIU; SORROWS OF 
 
 TIlOLUn CRI-8L TO WOB, TOK WORLD PITIBD HM. 
 
 To sober with sad truths the laughing mirth 
 Of rosy daughters round the cottage hearth, 
 And pass the Winter's lengthened ovo away, 
 A mother told the talc of Sally Grey : — 
 ' How time,' she said, ' and pleasure vanish by ! ' 
 Then stopped to wipe the tear-drops from her eye; — 
 ' Time gains upon us distance unawares, 
 Stealing our joys and changing them to cares : 
 'T is nine-and-thirty years ago,' — the dato 
 To prove, she looked above her where she sat 
 And pulled the Bible down — that certain guide 
 When boys and girls wore born, and old friends 
 That lay with penny stories rustling near, [died — 
 And almanacs preserved for many a year ; 
 Stopping her story till she found the place, 
 Pulling her glasses from their leathern case — 
 'T was right : and from her lap, in saddened vein, 
 She took her knitting and went on again. — 
 ' Poor thing ! she died, heart-broken and distressed, 
 Through love. The doctors, who should know the 
 Said 't was decline that wasted life away : [best, 
 But truth is truth ; and be it as it may. 
 She ne'er did aught that malice could reprove ; — 
 Her only failing was the fault of love ! 
 
 'T is hard enough when Innocence is hurled 
 On the cold bosom of a heartless world ; 
 AMicii .Mockery and stony-hearted Prido 
 Reveal the failings Pity strives to hide. 
 And with sad, cruel taunt and bitter jest 
 Lay thorns to pillow Trouble's broken rest ; 
 But when a poor young thing like Sally dies 
 For love, and only love — where are the eyes 
 Can look in Memory's face without a tear ? 
 Ev'n Scorn no longer turns aside to sneer. 
 But silent stands ; while Pity shakes her head, 
 And thinks tears just herself declines to shed. 
 
 VICTIM OF A XAI.S COQCET ; SALLY'S PARSSTAOE ; HKB BEAD; 
 ms WOOISO AND ACCBPTASCB. — COCnTSHtP. 
 
 'T was by another's failings that she fell, 
 "VA'hoso wanton follies were her passing bell : 
 A clown, as wild as young colts free from plough. 
 Who saw a prison in a marriage-vow, 
 Had won her heart, and kept it in his power, 
 As the rude bindweed clasps the tender flowor — 
 A clown, as shifting as the summer wind. 
 To whom her heart and love were all resigned. 
 
 Poor girl ! I felt in trouble for her end — 
 A next-door neighbor and an early friend : 
 Her father kept a cottage next to ours ; 
 He was a gardener and ho dealt in flowers, ' 
 
 And Sally's beau would buy his flowers tho while 
 
 With double prices — money and a smile ; 
 
 And many a whisper of love's cheating powers — 
 
 Calling her fairest of her father's flowers. [move, 
 
 Such ways, like spring-hopes, youngling blood did 
 
 And by and by got ripened into lovo. 
 
 He then tho wishes of her mind expressed 
 
 And was received — a lover, welcome guest ! 
 
 Go where we would, him we were sure to meet. 
 
 Or on the pasture or about the street ; 
 
 to her father's liouso he often went, 
 welcome gave, and deemed it kindly meant, 
 
 talked of goods and savings o'er his ale 
 
 :- h- !i ,1 . :,ni.d by his spade and flail ; — 
 
 i' M !i u. I, with fatherly regard, 
 
 I- "I [ ulnv in his little yard ; 
 'In- ;niil tli.it, as matters closer led, 
 
 marriage-portions when his daughters wed. 
 
 'S THREB LITTLE SISTERS AND 
 
 The children then, her little sisters three. 
 Began to know him, and would climb his knee 
 To whisper little stories in his ear ; 
 They called him brother, which he smiled to hear. 
 And, to reward them for each pretty way. 
 He promised bride-cako on tho wedding-day ; 
 And, with love's keepsakes brought from fair or 
 He ne'er forgot the children's toys or cake, [wake, 
 I marked these things ; for I was often by. 
 And even thought tho wedding-day was nigh : 
 For, as a neighbor, oft by night and day 
 I took my work in, to pass time away ; 
 And oft without it on a Winter's eve 
 I've stole away, nor asked a mother's leave. 
 To play at cards, and talk of dress beside — 
 For wenches' heads arc ever after pride. 
 
 No holiday ere oamo but he was there : 
 For him tho father left his corner-chair ; 
 Her mother blessed them as she touched the glass, 
 And wished him luck, and nodded to the lass ; 
 And all beheld him, when the freak begun. 
 In kindred prospect as a promised son. 
 
 Thus for a while his fawning lovo did bum. 
 But soon doubts rose at every touch and turn : 
 If she but nodded at a fair or wake 
 To youths she knew, it made his bosom ache : 
 
RURAL POETRY. — CLARE. 
 
 Or said ' Good-morning ! ' to a passer-by, 
 She always had a rival in her eye. 
 Then jealousy would seemingly complain, 
 And urge to vows ere all was right again : 
 But when he found her heart indeed his own. 
 Ho quickly made his foolish follies known ; 
 And, like a young bird children nurse in play, 
 He teased and plagued her till she pined away. 
 He still loved on, but thought it mighty fun 
 To prove her fondness when the maid was won. 
 From every night to once a week they met, 
 And then excuses made it longer yet : 
 Sometimes he could not stay as heretofore. 
 But called her out to whisper at the door ; 
 And turned away and smiled, self-satisfied 
 To see the tear-drops which she strove to hide. 
 He danced with other girls, his pride to please. 
 And seemed to glory in the chance to tease ; 
 Then looked around him with a leering eye, 
 And drank their healths when she was sitting by : 
 Deep blushes came across her face the while. 
 And tears would start while she essayed to smile. 
 And oft when nigh a soldier he has sat. 
 He 'd laugh, and put the colors on his hat ; 
 But he too great a coward was to go, 
 For none but cowards do use women so : 
 'T was only to perplex the heart he 'd won. 
 For no one cause but insolence and fun. 
 
 Thus did he wound her, though she loved him still. 
 And patiently put up with every ill ; 
 Nursing the venom of that speckled snake 
 About her heart, till it was like to break. 
 Yet when I cautioned her of love's distress, 
 And bade her notice the wild fellow less, 
 Saying she showed her love too much by half, — 
 ' Mary, you jest ! ' she said, and made a laugh. 
 
 CLEVER OLD WOMAN DESCRIBED. — WITCU SUPERSTITIONS. 
 
 Frequent on Sabbath-days, in pleasant weather. 
 We went to walk and talk of love together ; 
 And often sought a hut beside the wood. 
 That from the town a gossip's minute stood. 
 Here an old woman, for some small rewards, 
 Would tell our fortunes both by cups and cards. 
 Some called her witch, and whispered all they dare 
 Of mighty things that had been noticed there ; 
 Witches of every shape, that used to meet 
 To count tho stars, or muttered charms repeat. 
 Woodmen, in Winter, as they passed the road. 
 Have vowed they 've seen some crawling like a toad ; 
 And some, like owlets, veering over-head. 
 Shrieking enough to fright the very dead. 
 
 Yet she to us appeared like other folks, 
 A droll old woman, full of tales and jokes ; 
 And if the old dame's tales were darkly meant, 
 I ne'er perceived it, though I often went. 
 Deal as she might with Satan's evil powers. 
 She read her Bible, and was fond of flowers. 
 She went to church as other people may, 
 And knelt and prayed — though witches cannot pray: 
 She had her ague-charms, and old receipts 
 
 For wounds and bruises labor often meets ; 
 
 And gathered wild-flowers in her summer toils, 
 
 To make an ointment that was famed for miles ; 
 
 And many a one hath owned her lowly skill. 
 
 Who dared not run a doctor's longer bill. 
 
 But as to ill-got knowledge of the sky. 
 
 She was as innocent as you or I. 
 
 She might, no doubt, with pointed finger show 
 
 The Shepherd's Lamp, which even children know ; 
 
 And doubtless loved, when journeying from the 
 
 To see it rising soon as day was down. [town, 
 
 The Tailor's Yard-band, which hangs streaming 
 
 The pale Night-wagon driving down the sky, [high. 
 
 And Butcher's Cleaver, or tho Seven Stars, 
 
 With shooting North-lights, 'tokening bloody wars; 
 
 She might know these, which if 't is siu to know, 
 
 Then everybody is a witch below. 
 
 Well, those are good that never stoop to wrong, 
 
 And blessed are they that 'scape an evil tongue. 
 
 INTO A DECLINE ; 
 
 Thus to young hopes she would her fortunes tell. 
 But Sally quickly knew her own too well ! 
 Her tears and sighs did all too fruitless prove, 
 To keep the Shepherd to his vows of love : 
 He came to vex her oft and would not stay. 
 But shut the door again and laughed away. 
 As she was spotless and a maiden still, 
 Conscience ne'er told him that the deed was ill ; 
 And ho made promises, to give her pain. 
 Just for the sake of breaking them again. 
 On Winter's nights for hours I 've known her stand, 
 Listening, with door half open in her hand ; 
 Till, what with colds and an uneasy mind, 
 Her beauty faded and her health declined : 
 The rose, that lovers call so, left her face. 
 And the pale, sickly lily took its place. 
 Thus she went on, poor melancholy thing ! 
 Just like a bud that 's injured in tho Spring, 
 That may live on to see the coming day — 
 A feeble blossom, leaning on decay. 
 She sorrowed on, and worse and worse she grew. 
 And strength declined its labor to pursue : 
 Yet, wishing still her sorrows to conceal. 
 She turned with feeble hand her spinning-wheel j 
 Till, weak, and weary, when no one was by. 
 She 'd lean her backward in her chair to cry. 
 
 At length her parents, though with added fears, 
 Saw through her heart-throbs and her secret tears ; 
 And when they found the only crime was love. 
 They joked at times, and would at times reprove — 
 Saying, if that were all the world possessed 
 For causing troubles, few would be distressed. 
 But all was vain! She put her best looks on [gone; 
 When they were there, and grieved when they were 
 Till toil and fretting brought her down so low. 
 That she was forced her labor to forego. 
 
 Her friends, no longer with false hopes beguiled. 
 Feared for tho danger of their troubled ohild ; 
 
AUTUMN — SEPTEMBER. 
 
 327 
 
 Her ohildren-sisters oft hung round hor cbur, 
 In which she leaned in silence and despair ; 
 Ilcr troubled looks they cuuld not understand, 
 But tried to raise her liend Trora off hor hand, 
 And asked the reason why sho sat so still, 
 Or if aught wronged her that had made her ill. 
 She kissed their prattling lips with struggling sighs, 
 While anguish rushed for freedom to her eyes ; 
 Then would she turn away from friends and kin, 
 To hide the trouble that her heart was in. 
 They eked her sorrow with her lover's name. 
 Asking the reason why ho never came ; 
 Bringing up childish memories to her cost — 
 Things they had missed, and pleasures sho had lost. 
 Thus they would urge — ending with scornful brow — 
 ' A naughty man ! he brings us nothing now.' 
 She stopped their mouths with kisses and with sighs. 
 And turned her face again to hide her eyes, 
 ller mother talked of patience all in vain. 
 And read Job's troubles o'er and o'er again ; 
 Then turned to love, and read the book of Kuth, 
 Making excuses for the faults of youth ; 
 Saying how she in life's young joys was crossed, 
 And both a lover and a husband lost ; 
 Vet still hoped on, and overlooked the past. 
 And loved her mother, and was blessed at last. — 
 And if, said sho, you trust in God and pray. 
 You may be happy in the end as they. — 
 Then she herself would often try to read 
 The Bible comforts in the hour of need ; 
 But soon she failed its cheering truths to look, 
 And grew so weak sho scarce could lift the book. 
 Life to a spider's web was worn and spun, 
 And e'en her hands, if lifted to the sun, 
 Were both so wasted, that, to fancy's view. 
 The light would almost seem to glimmer through. 
 
 HKa LOVER REPS.\'T8 ; I.VTEBVIKW ; TOO LATE ; VAIX HOPES ; 
 GOSSIPS -, SALLY DIES. — TUU BRIDAL CUANQES TO A FCNERAL. 
 
 Her lover, by and by, his folly mourned. 
 His conscience pricked him, or his love returned : 
 He begged and prayed, and wished again to be 
 Once more admitted to her company. 
 The parents thought 't would save their sinking child. 
 For trouble's hopes are quickly reconciled — 
 So let him come. I sat beside her bed ; 
 He asked "her how she was, and hung his head : 
 The tears burst from her eyes ; she could not speak. 
 Upon her hand her sorrow-wa.steJ cheek 
 Sho leaned ; and, when he did his sins recall. 
 She kissed him fondly, and forgave him all, — 
 Then smiled, and bowed her faded face to weep. 
 And, wearied out, sank down like one asleep ; 
 Then rose again like one awoke from pain. 
 And gazed on him and me — and wept again ; 
 Then on her bosom laid her wasted hand, 
 Sighing a language brutes might understand ! 
 
 Yet hopes were fed, though but the mask of pain. 
 And she recovered, and got out again. 
 She seemed so well, they e'en began to name 
 The wedding-day. 'T was set, but ere it came, 
 
 The gossips, when they met, would still agree 
 To shake their heads and say, 't would never be ! 
 Muttering o'er doubts they would not urge aloud. 
 Saying her bride-dress would turn out a shroud. 
 God knows, they but too truly prophesied ; 
 For, ere it came, sho sickened, sunk, and died ! 
 
 Upon that very morn that was to see 
 The wedding sunshino and festivity. 
 Death did so gently his cold fingers lay 
 Upon her bosom, that she swooned away 
 Without a groan ; and, but for us that wept 
 About hor bed, you might have thought she slept. 
 For marriage-greetings parents' sorrows fell. 
 And marriage-peals changed to a passing-bell ! 
 Hor young sun set 'ncath sorrow's gloomy cloud : 
 Wed to the grave, her bride-sheets were a shroud. 
 And I, instead of joining in tho throng 
 Of merry faces, and a wedding song — 
 Instead of seeing her a bride become, 
 I bore tho pall up to her last long home ; 
 And heard tho old clerk's melancholy stave. 
 Who sang tho psalm bareheaded by her grave. 
 
 OHT.— sally's TOMO-STOSE. 
 
 CONCLrSIOX OF THE MOTHEl 
 
 Thus died poor Sally on her wedding-day — 
 An April bud that could not sec tho May. 
 I often stand to gaze upon the stone. 
 Whene'er I journey to the church alone. 
 Where gold-winged cherubs hnid .1 (lowcry wreath 
 Over a prayer-book npm unlri n^ :iili ; 
 Upon whose leaves \v;i- ^ ;it it !m 1 i [iic^t. 
 In golden letters, — ■ U'l' ii,i \, i.ir\ iL^t.' 
 
 T!rt ■!' i1m li. 11- li;ul chimed the hour of prayer : 
 
 .^t' ipiri-, ;i- |.it;. -. .mly did demand, 
 
 I \M.i|.]'-l iii\ .1]; Mil-corner round my hand, 
 
 ,\iii| lull- I tlj. I, ttlL's that had overgrown 
 
 Tlh w I -■ :in,l I mil. led half-way up the stone ; 
 
 Aiiil ilii 11 ;li I .1. wliL'ii ye were at the door, 
 
 "W lii^iiuiiiig iMiii ^wcethearts your love-secrets o'er, 
 
 I took my glasses to amuse myself. 
 
 And reached the Bible down from off* the shelf 
 
 To read the text, and look the psalms among. 
 
 To find tho one that at her grave was sung. 
 
 The place had long been doubled down before, 
 
 And much I wish that ye would read it o'er : 
 
 Your father read it to me many a time 
 
 When ye were young, and on our laps would climb : 
 
 Nay, keep your work — 't is not worth while to leave; 
 
 I '11 sit and hear it on to-morrow eve ; 
 
 For even if tho night would time allow, 
 
 My heart 's too sad — I cannot bear it now. 
 
 I 've talked till I have almost tired my tongue ; 
 Folks say old women's tales are always long. 
 So here I *\l end ; and, like it as you may, 
 I wish you better luck than Sally Grey. — 
 
 Sho ceased her tale, and snuffed the candlc-wiok. 
 Lifting it up from burning in the stick. 
 Then laid her knitting down, and shook her head, 
 And stooped to stir the fire, and talk of bed. 
 
fustic §al!Htr Ux Sfjtniihr 
 
 BLOOMFIELD'S "HARVEST-HOME.' 
 What gossips prattled in the sun, 
 
 Who tallted him fairly down, 
 Up, memory ! tell ; 't is Suffolk fun. 
 
 And lingo of their own. 
 Ah ! Judie Twitohel ! ' though thou 'rt dead, 
 
 With thee the tale begins ; 
 For still seem thrumming in my head 
 
 The rattling of thy pins ! 
 Thou queen of knitters ; for a ball 
 
 Of worsted was thy pride ; 
 With dangling stockings great and small, 
 
 And world of clack beside ! 
 ' We did so laugh ; the moon shono bright ; 
 
 More fun you never knew ; 
 'T was Farmer Cheerum's Horkey - night. 
 
 And I, and Grace, and Sue — 
 ' But bring a stool, sit round about, 
 
 And, boys, be quiet, pray ; 
 And let me tell my story out ; 
 
 'T was sitch a merry day ! 
 ' The butcher whistled at the door. 
 
 And brought a load of meat ; 
 Boys rubbed their hands, and cried, *' there 's mor 
 
 Dogs wagged their tails to see 't. 
 
 * On went the boilers till the hake 3 
 
 Had much ado to bear 'em ; 
 The magpie talked for talking sake, 
 
 Birds sung ; — but who could hear 'em ? 
 ' Creak went the Jack ; the cats were seared ; 
 
 We had not time to heed 'em. 
 The owd bins cackled in the yard. 
 
 For we forgot to feed 'em ! 
 ' Yet 't was not I, as I may say, 
 
 Because as how, d'ye see, 
 I only helped there for the day ; 
 
 They cou'd n't lay 't to me. 
 
 * Now Mrs. Cheerum's best lace cap 
 
 Was mounted on her head ; 
 Guests at the door began to rap, 
 
 And now the cloth was spread. 
 ' Then clatter wont the earthen plates — 
 
 "Mind, Judie," was the cry ; 
 I could have cop't-* them at their pates ! 
 
 " Trenchers for me," said I. 
 
 * "That look so clean upon the ledge. 
 
 And never mind a fall ; 
 Nor never turn a sharp knife's edge ; — 
 But fashion rules us all." 
 
 ' Home came the jovial Horkey load, 
 
 Last of the whole 
 
 year s crop ; 
 
 And Grace amongst the green boughs rode 
 
 Right plump upon the top. 
 ' This way and that the wagon reeled. 
 
 And never queen rode higher ; 
 Her cheeks were colored in the field. 
 
 And ours before the fire. 
 'The laughing harvest-folks and John 
 
 Came in and looked askew ; 
 'T was my red face that set them on, 
 
 And then they leered at Sue. 
 ' And Farmer Cheerum went, good man. 
 
 And broached the Horkey beer ; 
 And sitch a mort* of folk began 
 
 To eat up our good cheer. 
 ' Says he, " Thank God for what 's before us; 
 
 That thus we meet agen." 
 The mingling voices, like a chorus, 
 
 Joined cheerfully, " Amen." 
 ' Welcome and plenty, there they found 'em ; 
 
 The ribs of beef grew light ; 
 And puddings — till the boys got round 'em ; 
 
 And then they vanished quite ! 
 ' Now all the guests, with Farmer Crouder, 
 
 Began to prate of corn ; 
 And we found out they talked the louder, 
 
 The oftener passed the horn. 
 
 'Outc 
 
 the 1 
 
 set a cracking ; 
 
 The ale came round our way ; 
 By gom, we women fell a clacking 
 
 As loud again as they. 
 'John sung "Old Benbow" loud and strong. 
 
 And I, " The Constant Swain ;" 
 " Cheer up my Lads," was Simon's song, 
 
 " Wo '11 conquer them again." 
 ' Now twelve o'clock was drawing nigh. 
 
 And all in merry cue ; 
 I knocked the cask, " 0, ho ! " said I, 
 
 " We 've almost conquered you." 
 'My lord 6 begged round, and held his hat ; 
 
 Says Farmer Gruff, says he, 
 "There 's many a lord, Sam, I know that. 
 
 Has begged as well as thee." 
 'Bump in his hat the shillings tumbled 
 
 All round among the folks ; 
 " Laugh if you wool," said Sam, and t 
 
 " You pay for all your jokes." 
 
AUTUMN — SEPTEMBER. 
 
 ■ Joint stock, you know, among tho men. 
 
 To drink at their own charges ; 
 So up tliey got full drive, and then 
 
 Went out to halloo largess.' 
 • And sure enough tho noiao they mode ! — 
 
 But let mo mind my talc ; 
 Wo followed them, we wor'nt afraid, 
 
 Vi'e 'ad all been drinking alo. 
 ' As they stood hallooing back to back. 
 
 We, lightly as a feather, 
 Went sliding round, and in a crack 
 
 Had pinned their coats together. 
 ' 'T was near upon 't as light as noon ; 
 
 " A largess," on the hill, 
 They shouted to the full round moon, 
 
 I think I hear 'em still ! 
 ' But when they found tho trick, my stars ! 
 
 They well knew who to blame; 
 Our giggles turned to ha, ha, ha's. 
 
 And artcr us they came. 
 ' Grace by the tumbril made a squat. 
 
 Then ran as Sam came by ; 
 They said she could not run for fat ; 
 
 I know she did not try. 
 ' Suo round tho ncat-houso 8 squalling ran, 
 
 Where Simon scarcely dare ; 
 He stopt, — for ho 's a fearful man 
 
 " By gom there 's suffen « there ! " 
 'And offset John, with all his might, 
 
 To chase mo down tho yard. 
 Till I was nearly gran'd '" outright ; 
 
 He hugged so woundly hard. 
 'Still they kept up the race and laugh. 
 
 And round the house wo flew ; 
 But hark ye ! tho best fun by half 
 
 Was .Simon artcr Sue. 
 ' She cared not, dark nor light, not she. 
 
 So, near tho dairy door 
 She passed a clean white hog, you sec. 
 
 They 'd kilt the day before. 
 ' High on tho spirket" there it hung, — 
 
 " Now, Susie — what can save ye 7 " 
 Round the cold pig his arms ho flung. 
 
 And cried, " Ah ! hero I have ye." 
 ' The farmers heard what Simon said. 
 
 And what a noise ! good lack ! 
 Some almost laughed thomselves to dead. 
 
 And others clapt his back. 
 ' Wo all at once began to tell 
 
 M'hat fun wo had aboard j 
 But Simon stood our jeers right well ; 
 
 — He fell asleep and snored. 
 •Then in his button-holo upright 
 
 Did Farmer Crouder put 
 
 A slip of paper twisted tight, 
 
 And held the candle to 't. 
 
 < It smoked and smoked beneath bis noso, 
 
 Tho Iiarmlcss blazo crept higher ; 
 Till with a vengcanoo up ho rose, — 
 
 Grace, Judie, Suo 1 fire, fire ! 
 
 'The clock struck ono — some talked of parting, 
 
 Some said it was a sin. 
 And hitched their chairs;— but those for starling 
 
 Now let tho moonlight in. 
 'Owd women, loitering for the nonce," 
 
 Stood praising tho fine weather ; 
 Tho men-folks took the hint at onoo 
 
 To kiss them altogether. 
 ' And out ran every soul beside, 
 
 A shanny-patcd " crew ; 
 Owd folks could neither run nor hide. 
 
 So some kctched one, some tow. 
 ' They skrigglcd and began to scold. 
 
 But laughing got tho muster ; 
 Some quackling cried, " Let go your hold ! " 
 
 Tho farmers held the faster. 
 ' All innocent, that I 'II be sworn, 
 
 There wor'nt a bit of sorrow ; 
 And women, if their gowns are torn. 
 
 Can mend them on tho morrow. 
 
 ' Our shadows helter-skelter danced 
 
 About the moonlight ground ; 
 Tho wandering sheep, as on we pranced, 
 
 Got up and gazed around. 
 
 ' AnJwell they might — till Farmer Cheerum, 
 
 Now with a hearty glee, 
 Bade all good morn as ho came near 'cm, 
 
 And then to bed went he. 
 ' Then off we strolled this way and that. 
 
 With merry voices ringing ; 
 And echo answered us right pat. 
 
 As homo we rambled singing. 
 'For, when we laughed, it laughed again, 
 
 And to our own doors followed ! 
 " Yo, ho ! " wo cried ; " Yo, ho ! " so plain 
 
 Tho misty meadow hallooed. 
 ' That 's all my tale, and all the fun ; 
 
 Come, turn your wheels about ; 
 My worsted, soo ! — that's nicely done. 
 
 Just held my story out ! ' 
 Poor Judie ! — thus time knits or spins 
 
 The worsted from life's ball ! 
 Death stopj^d thy tales, and stopped thy pins, 
 
 — And so ho '11 servo us all. 
 
 Notes, 1—13. Judie Twitchel lived with a relative of 
 nioomnild, at nonington. Ilorkcy h the name given, in 
 SufTolk, Kngland, to the Harvest-Home Fenst. — Hake, a 
 sliding pot-hook ; cop't, thrown ; sitch a mort, such a num- 
 bt-r ; 'lord,' the leader of the reapers, who collected the lar- 
 ge.-*?, and led the troop that went forth to halloo, after an 
 ancient, perhaps a heathen custom ; neat-housc, cow- 
 house ; sulTen, something ; gran'd, strani^lcd ; spirket, 
 iron hook ; nonce, purpose ; shanny, giddy. 
 
|sa(iii anir f fss0ii5 far Sfpicmhr. 
 
 QUARLES'S PSALM 42 : 2. 
 
 What is the soul the better to be tiued 
 With lioly fire ? what boots it to be coined [be 
 
 With Heaven's own stamp ? what 'vantage can there 
 To souls of heaven-descended pedigree, 
 More than to beasts that grovel ? are not they 
 Fed by the Almighty's hand ? and every day 
 Filled with his blessings too ? do they not see 
 God in his creatures, as direct as we ? 
 Do they not taste Thee ? hear Thee ? nay, what sense 
 Is not partaker of thy excellence ? 
 What more do we ? alas ! what serves our reason, 
 But, like dark lanterns, to accomplish treason 
 With greater closeness ? It affords no light. 
 Brings thee no nearer to our purblind sight : 
 No pleasure rises up the least degree. 
 Great God ! but in the nearer view of Thee ! * * * 
 
 If those refulgent beams of heaven's great light 
 Gild not the day, what is the day but night ? 
 The drowsy shepherd sleeps, flowers droop and fade; 
 The birds are sullen, and the beasts arc sad : 
 But if bright Titan dart his golden ray. 
 And with his riches glorify the day, 
 The jolly shepherds pipe ; flowers freshly spring ; 
 The beasts grow gamesome, and the birds they sing. 
 Thou art my sun, great God ! 0, when shall I 
 View the full beams of thy meridian eye ? 
 Draw, draw this fleshly curtain, that denies 
 The gracious presence of thy glorious eyes ; 
 Or give me faith ; aud, by the eye of grace, 
 I shall behold Thee, though not face to face. 
 
 POPE'S "MUTUAL DEPENDENCE." 
 
 Has God, thou fool ! worked solely for thy good. 
 Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food ? 
 Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn 
 For him as kindly spreads the flowery lawn : 
 Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings ? 
 Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. 
 Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat? 
 Loves of his own aud raptures swell the note. 
 The bounding steed you pompously bestride 
 Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride. 
 Is thiue alone the seed that strews the plain ? 
 The birds of heaven shall vindicate their grain. 
 Thine the full harvest of the golden year'? 
 Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer : 
 The hog, that ploughs not, nor obeys thy call. 
 Lives on the labors of this lord of all. 
 
 Know, Nature's children all divide her care : 
 
 The fur that warms a monarch warmed a bear. 
 While man exclaims, 'See all things for my use !' 
 ' See man for mine ! ' replies a pampered goose : 
 And just as short of reason he must fall, 
 Who thinks all made for one, not one for all. 
 
 Grant that the powerful still the weak control ; 
 Bo man the wit and tyrant of the whole : 
 Nature that tyrant checks ; he only knows 
 And helps another creature's wants and woes. 
 Say, will the falcon, stooping from above, 
 Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove ? 
 Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings ? 
 Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings ? 
 Man cares for all : to birds he gives his woods, 
 To beasts his pastures, and to fish his floods ; 
 For some his interest prompts him to provide. 
 For more his pleasure, yet for more his pride : 
 All feed on one vain patron, and enjoy 
 The extensive blessing of his luxury. 
 That very life his learned hunger craves. 
 He saves from famine, from the savage saves ; 
 Nay, feasts the animal he dooms his feast. 
 And till he ends the being, makes it blest ; 
 Which sees no more the stroke, or feels the pain. 
 Than favored man by touch ethereal slain. 
 The creature had his feast of life before ; 
 Thou too must perish, when thy feast is o'er ! 
 
 GRAHAME'S "SABBATH." 
 Hail, Sabbath! theelhail ! — the poor man's day! 
 On other days the man of toil is doomed 
 To eat his joyless bread lonely, the ground 
 Both seat and board, screened from the winter's cold 
 And summer's heat by neighboring hedge or tree ; 
 But on this day, embosomed in his home, 
 He shares the frugal meals with those he loves ; 
 With those he loves he shares the heartfelt joy 
 Of giving thanks to God — not thanks of form, 
 A word and a grimace, but reverently 
 With covered face and upward, earnest eye ! 
 Hail, Sabbath ! thee I hail — the poor man's day ! 
 The pale mechanic now has leave to breathe 
 The morning air pure from the city's smoke ; 
 While wandering slowly up the river side. 
 He meditates on Him whose power he marks 
 In each green tree that proudly spreads the bough. 
 As in the tiny dew-bent flowers that bloom 
 Around the roots ; — and while he thus surveys 
 With elevated joy each rural charm, 
 He hopes, yet fears presumption in the hope. 
 To reach those realms where Sabbath never ends.** 
 
AUTUMN-OCTOBER 
 
 ^iloomfirlti's 
 
 ;l^;inucr s iio 
 
 Acoms. Hogs in the wood. Whcat-sowintr. The church. 
 Village girls. The mad girl. The binl-boy's hut. Dis- 
 appointments ; reflections, &c. Kuston-hall. Fox-hunt- 
 ing. 01(1 Trouncer. Long nights. A welcome to Winter. 
 
 SUBJECT ; SCENia OF .HTrjIS. — SWISEOERD ; HCXTSMiX. 
 
 Again, iIh- y. :n'- li.j.linc, midst storms and floods 
 The tliiiiil' I iiiL' 111 , ihc yellow fading woods, 
 Inviti- iii\ ■ 11^ . tii.ii hiiii would boldly tell 
 Of upland cvcri.. ,iw\ the echoing dell, 
 By turns resounding loud, at eve and morn, 
 The swineherd's halloo, or tho huntsman's born. 
 
 NEW-FALLBS MAST } SOW ASD PIOS FEKDINO OS ACORNS. 
 
 No more the fields with scattered grain supply 
 Tho restless wandering tenants of tbo sly ; 
 From oak to oak they run with eager haste, 
 And, wrangling, share the first delicious taste 
 Of fallen acorns ; yet but thinly found. 
 Till tho strong gale have shook them to tho ground ; 
 It oomcs ; and roaring woods obodiont wave : 
 Their homo well pleased the joint adventurers 
 leave : 
 
 The trudging sow leads forth he 
 Playful, and white, and clean, tho briers among. 
 Till briers and thorns, increasing, fenco them round. 
 Where last year's mouldering loaves bestrew the 
 
 ground ; 
 And o'er their heads, loud lashed by furious squalls, 
 Bright from their cups tho rattling treasure falls. 
 
 not thirsty food ! whence doubly sweet and cool 
 The welcome margin of some rush-grown pool, 
 Tho wild duck's lonoly haunt, whoso jealous eye 
 Guards every point ; who sits prepared to fly, 
 On the calm bosom of her little lake. 
 Too closely screened for ruflian winds to shako ; 
 And as tho bold intruders press around. 
 At onco she starts nnd rises with a bound : 
 With bristles raised tho sudden noise they hear, 
 And, ludicrously wild, and winged with fear, 
 Tho herd decamp with more than swinish speed, 
 And snorting dash through sedge, and rush, and 
 
 Through tangling thickets headlong on they go, 
 Then stop and listen for their fancied foe ; 
 
332 
 
 RURAL POETRY. BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 The hindmost still the growing panic spreads, 
 
 Repeated fright the first alarm succeeds, 
 
 Till folly's wages, wounds and thorns, they reap : 
 
 Yet glorying in their fortunate escape, 
 
 Their groundless terrors by degrees soon cease. 
 
 And night's dark reign restores their wonted peace. 
 
 THE HOG'S NEST AT Nionr ; THE PHEASANT j GILES'S VAIN 
 SEARCH FOE THE SWINE. 
 
 For now the gale subsides, and from each bough 
 The roosting pheasant's short but frequent crow 
 Invites to rest ; and huddling side by side 
 The herd in closest ambush seek to hide ; 
 Seek some warm slope with shagged moss o'erspread, 
 Dried leaves their copious covering and their bed. 
 In vain may Giles, through gathering glooms that 
 And solemn silence, urge his piercing call ; [fall, 
 Whole days and nights they tarry midst their store. 
 Nor quit the woods till oaks can yield no more. 
 
 WI.NTER-WHEAT ; HOW TO PROTECT IT WHEN SOWN IN 
 
 Beyond bleak Winter's rage, beyond the Spring 
 That rolling earth's unvarying course will bring, 
 Who tills the ground, looks on with mental eye, 
 And sees next Summer's sheaves and cloudless sky ; 
 And even now, whilst Nature's beauty dies, 
 Deposits seed, and bids new harvests rise ; 
 Seed well prepared, and warmed with glowing lime, 
 'Gainst earth-bred grubs, and cold, and lapse of 
 
 For searching frosts and various ills invade, 
 Whilst wintry months depress the springing blade. 
 
 The plough moves heavily, and strong the soil, 
 And clogging harrows with augmented toil 
 Dive deep ; and clinging, mixes with the mould 
 A fattening treasure from the nightly fold. 
 And all the cow-yard's highly valued store, 
 That late bestrewed the blackened surface o'er. 
 No idling hours are here, when fancy trims 
 Her dancing taper over outstretched limbs. 
 And in her thousand thousand colors drest, 
 Plays round the grassy couch of noontide rest : 
 Here Giles for hours of indolence atones 
 With strong exertion, and with weary bones, 
 And knows no leisure ; till the distant chime 
 Of Sabbath bells he hears at sermon time. 
 That down the brook sound sweetly in the gale. 
 Or strike the rising hill, or skim the dale. 
 
 THE parson's horse ; THE RCDE CHAPEL * DAWS. 
 
 Nor bis alone the sweets of ease to taste : 
 Kind rest extends to all ; —save one poor beast. 
 That, trae to time and pace, is doomed to plod. 
 To bring the pastor to the house of God : 
 Mean structure ; where no bones of heroes lie ! 
 The rude inelegance of poverty 
 Reigns here alone : else why that roof of straw ? 
 
 Those narrow windows with the frequent flaw ? 
 O'er whose low cells the dock and mallow spread, 
 And rampant nettles lift the spiry head, 
 Whilst from the hollows of the tower on high 
 The gray-capped daws in saucy legions fly. 
 
 THE GRAVES ABOCT THE CHAPEL J SC.NTJAY TALK OF FARMERS ; 
 
 Round these lone walls assembling neighbors meet, 
 And tread departed friends beneath their feet ; 
 And new-briered graves, that prompt the secret sigh, 
 Show each the spot where he himself must lie. 
 Midst timely greetings village news goes round, 
 Of crops late shorn, or crops that deck the ground ; 
 Experienced ploughmen in the circle join ; 
 While sturdy boys, in feats of strength to shine. 
 With pride elate, their young associates brave 
 To jump from hollow-sounding grave to grave ; 
 Then close consulting, each his talent lends 
 To plan fresh sports when tedious service ends. 
 
 THE VILLAGE MAIDS ; THEIR ERRAND AT CHURCH. 
 
 Hither at times, with cheerfulness of soul, 
 Sweet village maids from neighboring hamlets stroll, 
 That, like the light-heeled does o'er lawns that rove. 
 Look shyly curious ; ripening into love ; 
 For love 's their errand : hence the tints that glow 
 On either cheek an heightened lustre know : 
 When, conscious of their charms, e'en Age looks sly; 
 And rapture beams from Youth's observant eye. 
 
 The pride of such a party, Nature's pride, 
 Was lovely Poll ;' who innocently tried. 
 With hat of airy shape and ribbons gay. 
 Love to inspire, and stand in Hymen's way : 
 But ere her twentieth summer could expand. 
 Or youth was rendered happy with her hand. 
 Her mind's serenity was lost and gone. 
 Her eye grew languid, and she wept alone ; 
 Yet causeless seemed her grief; for quick restrained. 
 Mirth followed loud, or indignation reigned : 
 Whims wild and simple led her from her home. 
 The heath, the common, or the fields, to roam : 
 Terror and joy alternate ruled her hours ; 
 Now blithe she sung, and gathered useless flowers ; 
 Now plucked a tender twig from every bough, 
 To whip the hovering demons from her brow. 
 Ill-fated maid ! thy guiding spark is fled. 
 
 And lasting wretchedness awaits thy bed 
 
 Thy bed of straw ! for mark, where even now 
 O'er their lost child afflicted parents bow ; 
 Their woe she knows not, but, perversely coy. 
 Inverted customs yield her sullen joy. 
 Her midnight meals in secrecy she takes, 
 Low muttering to the moon, that rising breaks 
 Through night's dark gloom : — 0, how much more 
 
 forlorn 
 Her night, that knows of no returning dawn ! — 
 1 Mary Raynor, of Ixworth Thorp, or Tillage. 
 
ABTUMN — OCTOBER. 
 
 838 
 
 Slow from tho throsholJ, once her infant seat, 
 
 Cor tho cold earth sho crawla tci her retreat ; 
 
 Quitting the cot's wann walls unhoused to lie, 
 
 Or £>hare the swine's impure and narrow sty ; 
 
 Tho damp night air her shivering limbs assails ; 
 
 In dreams she moans, and fancied wrongs bewails. 
 
 When morning wakes, none earlier roused than she, 
 
 AVhen pendent drops fall glittering from the tree, 
 
 But naught her rayless melancholy cheers. 
 
 Or soothes her breast, or stops her streaming tears. 
 
 Her matted locks unornainented flow ; 
 
 Clasping her knees, and waving to and fro ; — 
 
 Her head bowed down, her faded checks to hide j — 
 
 A piteous mourner by the pathway side. 
 
 Some tufted molehill through the livelong day 
 
 Sho calls her throne; there weeps her life away : 
 
 And oft the gayly passing stranger stays 
 
 Ilis well-timed step, and takes a silent gaze, 
 
 Till sympathetic drops unbidden start, 
 
 And pangs quick springing muster round his heart; 
 
 And soft he treads with other gazers round. 
 
 And fain would catch her sorrow's plaintive sound. 
 
 One word alone is all that strikes tho ear. 
 
 One short, pathetic, simple word, — ' dear ! ' 
 
 A thousand times repeated to the wind. 
 
 That wafts the sigh, but leaves the pang behind ! 
 
 Forever of the proffered parley shy. 
 She hears the unwelcome foot advancing nigh ; 
 Nor quite unconscious of her wretched plight. 
 Gives one sad look, and hurries out of sight. 
 
 Fair promised sunbeams of terrestrial bliss. 
 Health's gallant hopes, — and are ye sunk to this 
 For in life's road though thorns abundant grow. 
 There still are joys poor Poll can never know ; 
 Joys which the gay companions of her prime 
 Sip, as they drift along the stream of tirao ; 
 At eve to hear beside their tranquil homo 
 The lifted latch, that speaks the lover come : 
 That love matured, next playful on the knee 
 To press tho velvet lip of infancy ; 
 To stay tho tottering step, the features trace ; — 
 Inestimable sweets of social peace ! 
 
 Thou, who bidst the vernal juices rise ! 
 Thou, on whoso blosta autumnal foliage flics ! 
 Let peace ne'er leave me, nor my heart grow cold. 
 Whilst life and sanity are mine to hold. 
 
 CARB or Tns LATB-IUTCDBD CUICKENS, ETC. 
 
 Shorn of their flowers that shed the untreasurod 
 
 The withiTing pasture, and tho fading mead, 
 Less tempting grown, diminish more and more, 
 Tho dairy's pride ; sweet'Summer's flowing store. 
 New cares succeed, and gentle duties press. 
 Where tho fireside, a school of tenderness, 
 Revires the languid chirp, and warms tho blood 
 
 Of eold-nipped weaklings of tho latter brood. 
 That, from tho shell just bursting into day, 
 Through yard or pond pursue their venturous way. 
 
 I'll V, ; ' ■■ I , ;i.r scenes expand ; 
 
 Wli r I M u- -sown land ! 
 
 ' 111 I'", Giles, and guard 
 
 Tlir 1 1 ;i .; ; jr.'iit reward : 
 
 A future .-u.-tcmuicc, a iuiumur's pride. 
 Demand thy vigilance : then be it tried ; 
 Exert thy voice, and wield thy shotless gun : 
 Go, tarry there from morn till setting sun.' 
 
 GILES BnX.D3 A HIT OF STKAW ASD TIB7, LIKE CRCSOB, 
 
 Keen blows the blast, or ceaseless rain descends ; 
 Tho half-stripped hedge a sorry shelter lends. 
 for a hovel, o'er so small or low, 
 ■\Vhose roof, repelling winds and early snow, 
 Might bring home's comforts fresh before his eyes ! 
 No sooner thought, than see the structure rise, 
 In some sequestered nook, embanked around, 
 Sods for its walls, and straw in burdens bound : 
 Dried fuel hoarded is his richest store. 
 And circling smoke obscures his little door ; 
 Whence creeping forth, to duty's call he yields. 
 And strolls tho Crusoe of the lonely fields. 
 
 ms nosprrABiE feast of iiah-s and sloes ; disappolnted 
 
 On whitethorns towering, and the leafless rose, 
 A frost-nipped feast in bright vermilion glows : 
 Whore clu.-itcrinj; sloes in glossy order rii-e. 
 
 He .ri.iii ih.' I Ir,| branch ; a cumbrous prize ; 
 
 .\ni| ..'i r 111. lliiiiir llio .sputtering fruit he rests, 
 
 riariii: jM 1 11 • U t.. seat his coming guests ; 
 
 Hi- 111 ' I . I 1 iiii-c ; playmates young and gay : 
 
 ilm, 1 ' in . tnin.'s luro their steps away ! 
 
 Ill ih. iind homeward looks in vain. 
 
 Till, 1 1 iL^ ai-.4 I'-'intment's cruel pain. 
 
 His fairy ruvcls are exchanged for rage. 
 
 His banquet marred, grown dull his hermitage. 
 
 Tho fieUl becomes his prison, till on high 
 
 Bcniglited birds to shades and coverts fly. 
 
 Jlidst air, health, daylight, can ho prisoner be ? 
 
 If fields arc prisons, where is liberty ? 
 
 Hero still she dwells, and hero her votaries stroll ; 
 
 But disappointed hope untunes tho soul : 
 Restraints unfelt whilst hours of rapture flow. 
 When troubles press, to chains and barriers grow. 
 Look, then, from trivial up to greater woes ; 
 From the poor bird-boy with his roasted sloes. 
 To where the dungeoned mourner heaves tho sigh ; 
 Where not ono cheering sunbeam meets his eye. 
 Though inefiectual pity thine may be. 
 No wealth, no power, to set the captive free ; 
 Though only to thy ravished sight is given 
 The golden path that Howard trod to heaven ; 
 
334 
 
 RURAL POETRY. BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 Thy slights can make the wretched more forlorn, 
 And deeper drive affliction's barbed thorn. 
 
 VISIT THE PRISONER, AND DISAPPOINT HIM NOT. 
 
 Say not, • I '11 come and cheer thy gloomy cell 
 With news of dearest friends; how good, how well : 
 I '11 bo a joyful herald to thine heart : ' 
 Then fail, and play the worthless trifler's part. 
 To sip flat pleasures from thy glass's brim, 
 And waste the precious hour that's due to him ! 
 In mercy spare the base, unmanly blow : 
 Where can he turn, to whom complain of you ? 
 Back to past joys in vain his thoughts may stray. 
 Trace and retrace the beaten, worn-out way. 
 The rankling injury will pierce his breast, 
 And curses on thee break his midnight rest. 
 
 Bereft of song, and ever cheering green. 
 The soft endearments of the Summer scene. 
 New harmony pervades tho solemn wood. 
 Dear to the soul, and healthful to the blood : 
 For bold exertion follows on the sound 
 Of distant sportsmen, and the chiding hound ; 
 First heard from kennel bursting, mad with joy, 
 Where smiling Euston boasts her good Fitzroy, 
 Lord of pure alms, and gifts that wide extend ; 
 Tho farmer's patron, and the poor man's friend ; 
 Whoso mansion glittering with the eastern ray. 
 Whose elevated temple points the way, 
 O'er slopes and lawns, the park's extensive pride," 
 To where the victims of the chase reside. 
 Ingulfed in earth, in conscious safety warm. 
 Till, lo! a plot portends their coming harm. 
 
 THE FOX-HONT ; THE FOX BLOCKED OUT ; STARTED FROM 
 
 In earliest hours of dark, unhooded morn. 
 Ere yet one rosy cloud bespeaks the dawn, 
 Whilst far abroad the fox pursues his prey. 
 He 's doomed to risk the perils of the day. 
 From his strong hold blocked out; perhaps to bleed. 
 Or owe his life to fortune or to speed. 
 For now the pack, impatient rushing on. 
 Range through the darkest coverts one by one ; 
 Trace every spot ; whilst down each noble glade. 
 That guides the eye beneath a changeful shade, 
 The loitering sportsman feels the instinctive dame, 
 And checks his steed to mark the springing game. 
 Midst intersecting cuts and winding ways 
 The huntsman cheers his dogs, and anxious strays 
 Where every narrow riding, even shorn. 
 Gives back the echo of his mellow horn ; 
 Till fresh and lightsome, every power untried. 
 The starting fugitive leaps by his side. 
 His lifted finger to his ear he plies. 
 And tho View-halloo bids a chorus rise 
 Of dogs quiek-mouthcd and shouts that mingle loud. 
 As bursting thunder rolls from cloud to cloud. 
 
 THE HORSE IN THE CHASE ; THE VILLAGERS TURN OUT. 
 
 With ears erect, and chest of vigorous mould. 
 O'er ditch, o'er fence, unconquerably bold, 
 The shining courser lengthens every bound. 
 And his strong foot-locks suck the moistened ground. 
 As from the confines of the wood they pour. 
 And joyous villages partake the roar. 
 O'er heath far stretched, or down, or valley low, 
 The stiff-limbed peasant, glorying in the show. 
 Pursues in vain ; where youth itself soon tires. 
 Spite of the transports that the chase inspires ; 
 For who unmounted long can charm the eye. 
 Or hear the music of the leading cry ? 
 
 THE FOX-HOUND TROUNCER ; HIS EXPLOITS. 
 
 Poor faithful Trouncer! thou canst lead no more; 
 All thy fatigues and all thy triumphs o'er ! 
 Triumphs of worth, whose honorary fame 
 Was still to follow true the hunted game ; 
 Beneath enormous oaks, Britannia's boast. 
 In thick, impenetrable coverts lost. 
 When the warm pack in faltering silence stood. 
 Thine was the note that roused the listening wood, 
 Rekindling every joy with ten-fold force. 
 Through all the mazes of the tainted course. 
 Still foremost thou the dashing stream to cross. 
 And tempt along the animated horse ; 
 Foremost o'er fen or level mead to pass. 
 And sweep the showering dew-drops from the gra«s; 
 Then bright emerging from the mist below 
 To climb the woodland hill's exulting brow. 
 
 Pride of thy raoe ! with worth far less than thine. 
 Full many human leaders daily shine ! 
 Less faith, less constancy, less generous zeal ! — 
 Then no disgrace mine humble verse shall feel, 
 Where not one lying line to riches bows. 
 Or poisoned sentiment from rancor flows ; 
 Nor flowers are strewn around Ambition's ear : — 
 An honest dog 's a nobler theme by far. 
 Each sportsman heard the tidings with a sigh, 
 When death's cold touch had stopped his tuneful 
 
 cry ; 
 And though high deeds, and fair exalted praise. 
 In memory lived, and flowed in rustic lays. 
 Short was the strain of monumental woo : 
 * Foxes, rejoice I here buried lies your foe.' ^ 
 
 In safety housed throughout night's lengthening 
 reign, 
 The cock sends forth a loud and piercing strain ; 
 More frequent, as the glooms of midnight flee. 
 And hours roll round, that brought him liberty. 
 When Summer's early dawn, mild, clear, and bright. 
 Chased quick away the transitory night : 
 
 1 Inscribed c 
 
 1 Euston Park wall. 
 
AUTUMN — OCTOBER. 
 
 885 
 
 Hours now in darkness veiled ; yet loud the soroam 
 Of gccso impatient for the playful stream ; 
 And all the feathered tribe imprisoned raise 
 Their morning notes of inliarmimious praise j 
 And many a clamorous hen and cockerel gay, 
 When daylight slowly through the fog breaks way, 
 Fly wantonly abroad : but, ah, how soon 
 The shades of twilight follow hazy noon, 
 Shortening the busy day ! — day that slides by 
 Amidst the unfinished toils of husbandry ; 
 Toils still each morn resumed with double care, 
 To meet the icy terrors of the year, 
 
 To meet the throats of Boreas undismayed, 
 And Winter's gathering frowns and hoary head. 
 
 WBLCOUB TO WISTBR J n0P« FOB TOB POOR. 
 
 Then welcome, cold ; welcome, ye snowy nights ! 
 Heaven, midst your rage, shall mingle pure delights, 
 And confidence of hope the soul sustain, 
 M'hile devastation sweeps along the plain : 
 Nor shall the child of poverty despair. 
 But bless the Power that rules the changing year ; 
 Assured,— though horrors round his cottage reign,— 
 That Spring will come, and Nature smile again. 
 
 a usscr's "(['October's .iljuslKinh-ii." 
 
 Octoher, Rood blast Forgotten, month past, 
 
 To Wluw the hog mast. Do now at the last. 
 
 Now lay up' thy barley-land, dry as ye can, * * 
 Get daily beforehand, bo never behind. * * 
 Green rye in September, when timely thou hast, 
 October for wheat-sowing ciilleth a^^ fast : 
 If weather will sulV. i , i!ii- . ,,,1,1. 1 T give, 
 Leave sowing of \\li:' i ! ;■ 1 1 il I'wriias eve.* * * 
 Yet where, how in, I i : I tn begin, 
 
 Let ever the finest 1-v liia . ulu ui. 
 Who soweth in rain, he shall reap it with tears ; 
 Who soweth in harms, ho is ever in fears ; 
 Who soweth ill seed, or defraudeth his land. 
 Hath eyesore abroad, with a corrie at hand. * * 
 Seed husbandly sowcn, water-furrow thy ground. 
 That rain, when it eometh, may run away round. ** 
 As land full of tilth, and in hearty good plight. 
 Yields blade to a length, and increasoth in might ; 
 So crop upon crop, on whose courage wo doubt, 
 Y'ields blade for a brag, but it holdcth not out. 
 The straw and tho ear to have bigness and length 
 Betokencth land to bo good and in strength. * * 
 White wheat or else red, red rivet or white. 
 Far passeth all other, for land that is light j 
 White pollard or red, that so richly is set, 
 For land that is heavy, is best ye eon get. 
 Main wheat, that is mixed with white and with red, 
 Is ne.vt to the best, in tho market-man's head : 
 To Turkey or Purkcy wheat many do love. 
 Because it is floury, as others above. 
 Gray wheat is tho grossest, yet good for tho clay. 
 Though worst for the nuvrket, as farmer will say ; 
 Much like unto rye, be his properties found. 
 Coarse flour, much bran, and a peeler^ of ground. 
 Oats, rye, or else barley, and wheat that is gray. 
 Brings land out of comfort, and soon to decay. 
 
 1 To ' lay up ' is to cover the ridge baulk by two opposite 
 furrows, to shed water. 
 
 - Wheat is sown in England from mid-August to mid- 
 Deceniber, but chiefly in October ; the compiler has sown 
 winter-wheat in northern Illinois as late as Nov. 13. — J. 
 
 3 To ' peel ' Is to spend or exhaust. 
 
 ' One after another, no comfort between, 
 I Is crop upon crop, as will quickly be seen. 
 Still crop upon crop many farmers do take. 
 And reap littlo profit, for greediness' sake, [stand. 
 Though bread-corn and drink-corn,' such croppcrsdo 
 Count peason or l)r:uik,' us a o.mfort to land. * * 
 Some useth iit lii-i :i ._•' - 1 1 ill iv to make,' 
 To sow there'll 1 .■,: ^ 1 1 11. r to take 
 
 Ne.itt that t 1 ili:it to sow wheat. 
 
 Then fallow i.- ill, ' >'- ,„:,i,4 
 
 When barky y^ ■■«. ; , .t. 
 
 If land be null. -1... 1 * 
 
 Where rye, >.!■ rl-,' ivhi ,• .^'S-iw, 
 
 Let codware^ be ne.\t, tbcrruiH.n t.n- tu grow. 
 Two crops of a fallow enrieheth tho plough ; 
 Though t' one be of peas, it is land good enough. 
 One crop and a fallow ^ some soil will abide. 
 When, if ye go further, lay profit aside. * * 
 Good bread-corn and drink-corn full twenty weeks 
 Is better than new, that at harvest is reapt; [kept 
 But foisty the bread-corn, and bowd-eaten' malt. 
 For health or for profit, find noisome thou shalt. 
 By the end of October go gather up sloes. 
 Have thou in a readiness plenty of those ; 
 And keep them in bed-straw, or still on tho bough. 
 To stay both tho fli.t,* of thyself and the cow. 
 Seeth water and plump therein plenty of sloes; 
 Mi.t chalk that is dried, in powder with those ; 
 AVhich so, if ye give, with tho water and chalk, 
 Thou makest the lax from thy cow away walk. 
 Bo suer of vergis» (a gallon at least), 
 So good for the kitchen, so needful for beast : 
 It hclpcth thy cattlo, so feeble and faint. 
 If timely such cattlo with it thou acquaint. 
 
 1 Wheat and barley. = Buckwheat. 
 
 3 Except in common-flelds, fallowing is justly exploded by 
 all good fanners Mavob, Mem. British Bd. of Agricutt. 
 
 * This was written in 1S57, it will be recoliccU'd. 
 
 » Codwarc Is beans or peas-, the former for a slilT, the lat- 
 ter for a lighter soil. » ' Kuinous,' says Mavor. 
 ' Weevil^aten. * Looseness of the bowels. 
 
 • Juice of crab-apples, or crab-juice. 
 
lastonil for (Drtohr. 
 
 KAMSAY'S "RICHY AND SANDY." > 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MR. ADDISON. 
 
 What gars thee look sae dowf, dear Sandy, say? 
 Cheer up, dull fellow, take thy reed and play 
 ' My apron deary,' or some wanton tune ! 
 Be merry, lad, and keep thy heart aboon ! 
 
 SiSDT. 
 
 Na, na, it winna do ! leave me to mane : 
 This aught days twice o'er telled I'll whistle nane. 
 
 Wow, man, that 's unco' sad ! — Is 't that ye'r jo 
 Has ta'en the strunt? Or has some bogle-bo, 
 Slowrin frae 'mang auld wa's, gi'en ye a fleg ? 
 Or has some dauted wedder broke his leg? 
 
 Naething like that, — sic troubles eith were 
 
 What 's bogles, wedders, or what Mausy's scorn ? 
 Our loss is meikle mair, and past remead : 
 Adie, that played and sang sae sweet, is dead. 
 
 Dead ! say'st thou ? — 0, had up my heart, Pan ! 
 Te gods, what laids ye lay on feckless man ! 
 Alake therefore ! I canna wyt ye're wae ; 
 I '11 bear ye company for year and day. 
 A better lad ne'er leaned out o'er a kent, 
 Or hounded coly o'er the mossy bent. 
 Blyth at the bught how aft ha'e we three been, 
 Heartsome on hills, and gay upon the green. 
 
 That's true indeed ! But now thae days are gane. 
 And, with him, a' that 's pleasant on the plain. 
 A summer day I never thought it lang. 
 To hear him make a roundel or a sang. 
 How sweet he sung where vines and myrtles grow, 
 Of wimbling waters which in Latium flow. " 
 Titry the Mantuan herd, wha lang sinsyne 
 Best sung on aeten reed the lover's pine, 
 Had he been to the fore now in our days, 
 Wi' Adie he had frankly dealt his bays. 
 As lang 's the warld shall Amaryllis ken, 
 His Rosamond ' shall echo through the glen ; 
 While on burn banks the yellow gowan grows. 
 Or wand'ring lambs rin bleating after ewes, 
 His fame shall last ; last shall his sang of weirs,* 
 While British bairns brag of their bauld forbears. 
 Wo '11 meikle miss his blyth and witty jest. 
 At spaining time, or at our Lambmass feast. 
 
 1 Bir Richard Steele and Jlr. Alcx.-vnilcr Pope. 
 
 = His pui'tic epistle from Italy to the Karl of Halifax. 
 
 3 An oiiera written by him. *• His ' Campaigo,' a poem. 
 
 0, Eichy ! but 't is hard that Death aye reaves 
 Away the best fowk, and the ill anes leaves ! 
 Hing down yer heads, ye hills ; greet out, ye springs 
 Upon yer edge na mair the shepherd sings ! 
 
 Then he had aye a good advice to gie. 
 And kend my thoughts amaist as well as me. 
 Had I been thowloss, vest, or oughtlins sour, 
 He wad have made mo blyth in half an hour ; 
 Had Rosie ta'en the dorts, or had the tod 
 Worry'd my lambs, or were my feet ill-shod. 
 Kindly he 'd laugh when sae he saw me dwine. 
 And talk .of happiness like a divine. 
 Of ilka thing he had an unco' skill ; 
 Ho kend by moonlight how tides ebb and fill ; 
 Ho kend (what kend he no ?) e'en to a hair 
 He 'd tell or night gin neist day wad be fair. 
 Blind John,' ye mind, wha sung in kittle phrase, 
 How the ill sp'rit did the first mischief raise ; 
 Mony a time, beneath the auld birk-tree, 
 What 's bonny in that sang he loot me see. 
 The lasses aft flung down their rakes and pails. 
 And held their tongues, strange ! to hear his tales. 
 
 Sound be his sleep, and saft his wak'ning be ! 
 He 's in a better case than thee or me. 
 He was o'er good for us ; the gods hae ta'en 
 Their ain but back, — he was a borrowed len. 
 Let us be good, gin virtue be our drift, 
 Then we may yet forgethor 'boon the lift. 
 
 But see, the sheep are wysing to the cleugh ; 
 Thomas has loos'd his ousen frae the plough ; 
 Maggy by this has bcwk the supper-scones ; 
 And muokle kye stand rowting in the loans ; 
 Come, Richy, let us truse and hame o'er bend. 
 And make the best of what we canna mend. 
 
 1 The famous Milton •, he was blind. 
 
 Glossary. —Gai-s, causes ; dowf, dull; aboon, above ; 
 mane, moan ; aught, eight ', unco, very ; jo, sweetheart ; 
 bogle-bo, bugbear spirit ; glowrin, staring ■, fiep, fright ; 
 dauted, fondled ; wedder, wether ; eith, easily •, meilile 
 mair, -much more; remead, remedy ; had, hold ; laids, 
 loads ; feckless, feeble ; wyt, shun, remove ; kent, shep- 
 herd's staSf 1 coly, shepherd's dog ; lient, opin field ; bvigllt, 
 sheepTold, pen ■, rnuii.l. I, mnmlr'n- : mm-M-v. ivmlmg ; 
 
 lins, any lit 
 
^wwsUin^'s "%x\ of il)ca' 
 
 EXERCTSE. 
 
 TuROCoii various toils th' adventurous Muso has 
 past ; 
 But half tho toil, and more than half, remains. 
 Rude is her theme, and havdly fit for song ; 
 Plain and of little ornament ; and I 
 But little practised in tho Aonian arts : 
 Yet not in vain sueh labors have we tried. 
 If aught these lays the fickle Health confirm. 
 To you, yo delicate ! I write ; for you 
 I tame my youth to philosophic cares, 
 And grow still paler by tho midnight lamp. 
 Not to debilitate with timorous rules 
 A hardy frame ; nor ncwllossly to bravo 
 
 Inglorious dang, r ■-■■■■' "' '-' strength. 
 
 Is all the lessou i ! ,^ '-•''" 
 
 Concerns tho sti- '" bestowed 
 
 M'ho would with >■ nurse 
 
 Tho thriving oak «l,i.h_, ...i the i.n.untain's brow, 
 Bears all the blasts that sweep tho wintry heaven. 
 
 HEALTU OF THE LABORER. —ISDIKFEBEST TO CHASGES. 
 
 Behold tho laborer of the glebe who toils 
 In dust, in rain, in cold and sultry skies : 
 Save but the grain from mildews and the flood. 
 Naught anxious he what sickly stars ascend. 
 He knows no laws by Esculapius given ; 
 Ue studies none. Yet him nor midnight fogs 
 Infest, nor those envenomed shafts that fly 
 When rapid Sirius fires the autumnal noon. 
 His habit pure with plain and temperate meals. 
 Robust with labor, and by custom steeled 
 To every casualty of varied life ; 
 Serene he bears the peevish eastern blast. 
 And uninfected breathes tho mortal south. 
 
 Como, my companions, yo who feel tho charms 
 Of nature and the year ; eomo, let us stray 
 Where chance or fancy leads our roving walk : 
 Conif. while th.- yi'ft voluptuous breezes fan 
 The Ih " ^ li,,,irii., .nwrap the limbs in balm, 
 Aii.l -li' '1 ;i rlciiiniiiL' languor o'er tho soul. 
 Nur kIi.'ii l,ri-ht W ink-r SOWS with prickly frost 
 The vigorous otlaT, iu unmanly warmth 
 Indulge at home ; nor even when Eurus' blasts 
 This way and that convolve the laboring woods. 
 My liberal walks, save when the skies in rain 
 Or fogs relent, no season should confine 
 Or to the cloistered gallery or aroado. 
 Go, climb the mountain ; from the ethereal source 
 Imbibe tho recent gale. The cheerful morn 
 Beams o'er the hills ; go, mount the exulting steed. 
 Already, sec, the deep-mouthed beagles catch 
 The tainted ma/.cs ; and, on eager sport 
 Intent, with emulous impalience try 
 Each doubtful trace. Or, if a nobler prey 
 ' Delight you more, go chase the desperate deer ; 
 And through its deepest solitudes awake 
 Tho vocal forest with tho jovial horn. 
 
 But if t 
 Exceed y 
 
 B EXEBnSE.— TBEST 
 
 i-thob's childhood. 
 ,r hill and dale 
 t less fatigue, 
 
 Nor less lU 1 
 Affords. Tl 
 A stony ehii 
 
 THE RF.WARDS OF SIMPLICTTV, SOBRIETY, 
 
 Such the reward of rude and sober life ; 
 Of labor such. By health the peasant's toil 
 Is well ropnid ; if exercise were pain 
 Tu.lrr^l, ;iM.l temperance pain. By arts like these 
 l,;ieMnia nursed of old her hardy sons ; 
 And R. ine's unconquered legions urged their way. 
 Unhurt, through every toil in every clime. 
 
 TOIL, ASD BE STBOSO. — VARIOCS EXERCISE. 
 
 Toil, and be strong. By toil the flaccid nerves 
 Grow firm, and gain a more compacted tone ; 
 The greener juices are by toil subdued, 
 Mellowed, and subtilized ; tho vapid old 
 Expelled, and all tho rancor of tho blood. 
 
 43 
 
 MMiM, that o'er 
 il- i;L|iid maze, [bounds 
 
 \,r li.v. Such, through the 
 III' I'li III -1 I ' 1 I. luus tho brawling Trent ; 
 <„ ; I , I , ,m Cumbrian mountains ; such 
 
 11 I „iiii woods ; and such the stream 
 
 (ju ulu.,-v .\u.eii.iii banks I first drew air, 
 Liddal ; till now, except in Doric lays 
 Tuned to her murmurs by her love-sick swains. 
 Unknown in song : though not a purer stream, 
 Through meads more flowery, more romantic groves. 
 Rolls towards tho western main. Hail, sacred flood ! 
 May still thy hospitable swains bo blest 
 In rural innocence ; thy mountains still 
 Teem with tho fleecy race ; thy tuneful woods 
 Forever flourish ; and thy vales look gay 
 With painted meadows, and the golden grain ! ^ 
 Oft, with thy blooming sons, when life was new. 
 Sportive and petulant, and charmed with toys. 
 In thy transparent eddies have I laved : 
 Oa traced with patient steps thy fairy banks. 
 With tho well-imitated fly to hook 
 The eager trout, and with the slender lino 
 And yielding rod solicit to the shore 
 
RURAL POETRY. ARMSTRONG. 
 
 The struggling, panting prey : while vernal clouds 
 
 And tepid gales obscured the ruffled pool, 
 
 And from the deeps called forth the wanton swarms. 
 
 CAIIDENISG A LIGHT EXERCISE FOR CERTAIN TASTES- 
 
 Formed on the Samian > school, or those of Ind,' 
 There are who think these pastimes scarce humane. 
 Yet in my mind — and not relentless I — 
 His life is pure that wears no fouler stains. 
 But if, through genuine tenderness of heart, 
 Or secret want of relish for the game, 
 You shun the glories of the chase, nor care 
 To haunt the peopled stream ; the garden yields 
 A soft amusement, an humane delight. 
 To raise the insipid nature of the ground ; 
 Or tame its savage genius to the grace 
 Of careless sweet rusticity, that seems 
 The amiable result of happy chance, 
 Is to create ; and gives a godlike joy, 
 Which every year improves. Nor thou disdain 
 To check the lawless riot of the trees, 
 To plant the grove, or turn the barren mould. 
 
 happy he ! whom, when his years decline 
 (His fortune and his fame by worthy means 
 Attained, and equal to his moderate mind ; 
 His life approved by all the wise and good, 
 Even envied by the vain), the peaceful groves 
 Of Epicurus, from this stormy world. 
 Receive to rest ; of all ungrateful cares 
 Absolved, and sacred from the selfish crowd. 
 Happiest of men ! if the same soil invites 
 A chosen few, companions of his youth. 
 Once fellow-rakes perhaps, now rural friends ; 
 With whom, in easy commerce, to pursue 
 Nature's free charms, and vie for sylvan fame : 
 A fair ambition ; void of strife or guile. 
 Or jealousy, or pain to be outdone. 
 Who plans th' enchanted garden, who directs 
 The visto best, and best conducts the stream ; 
 Whose groves the fastest thicken and ascend ; 
 Who first the welcome Spring salutes ; who shows 
 The earliest bloom, the sweetest, proudest charms 
 Of Flora ; who best gives Pomona's juice 
 To match the sprightly genius of Champagne. 
 
 EVENINGS OF WINTER SPENT SENSIBLY. 
 
 Thrice happy days ! in rural business past ; 
 Blest winter nights ! when, as the genial fire 
 Cheers the wide hall, his cordial family 
 With soft domestic arts the hours beguile. 
 And pleasing talk that starts no timorous fame, 
 With witless wantonness to hunt it down : 
 Or through the fairy-land of tale or song, 
 Delighted, wander, in fictitious fates 
 Engaged, and all that strikes humanity : 
 Till, lost in fable, they the stealing hour 
 Of timely rest forget. Sometimes, at eve, 
 
 1 - Pythagoras of Samos was a vegetarian, and so thf 
 
 His neighbors lift the latch, and bless unbid 
 Hi? festal roof ; while, o'er the light repast, 
 ^*\im1 -]ji IliIiIIv I'lips, they mix in social joy ; 
 ..\iiil, ilir.iii^li 111.' maze of conversation, trace 
 AA'liiitt'ir ;iijuisrs or improves the mind. 
 Sometimes at eve (for I delight to taste 
 The native zest and flavor of the fruit, 
 Where sense grows wild and takes of no manure). 
 The decent, honest, cheerful husbandman 
 Should drown his labor in my friendly bowl ; 
 And at my table find himself at home. 
 
 Whate'er you study, in whate'er you sweat. 
 Indulge your taste. Some love the manly foils ; 
 The tennis some ; and some the graceful dance. 
 Others, more hardy, range the purple heath, 
 Or naked stubble ; where from field to field 
 The sounding coveys urge their laboring flight : 
 Eager amid the rising cloud to pour 
 The gun's unerring thunder ; and there are 
 Whom still the meed ' of the green archer charms. 
 He chooses best, whose labor entertains 
 His vacant fancy most : the toil you hate 
 Fatigues you soon, and scarce improves your limbs. 
 
 As beauty still has blemish ; and the mind 
 The most accomplished its imperfect side ; 
 Few bodies arc there of that happy mould 
 But some one part is weaker than the rest : 
 The legs, perhaps, or arms, refuse their load, 
 Or the chest labors. These assiduously. 
 But gently, in their proper arts employed. 
 Acquire a vigor and elastic spring 
 To which they were not born. But weaker parts 
 Abhor fatigue and violent discipline. 
 
 Begin with gentle toils ; and, as your nerves 
 Grow firm, to hardier by just steps aspire. 
 The prudent, even in every moderate walk, 
 At first but saunter ; and by slow degrees 
 Increase their pace. This doctrine of the wise 
 Well knows the master of the flying steed. 
 First from the goal the managed coursers play 
 On bended reins ; as yet the skilful youth 
 Repress their foamy pride ; but every breath 
 The race grows warmer, and the tempest swells ; 
 Till all the fiery mettle has its way, 
 And the thick thunder hurries o'er the plain. 
 
 AVhen all at once from indolence to toil 
 You spring, the fibres by the hasty shook 
 Are tired and cracked, before their unctuous ( 
 Compressed, can pour the lubricating balm. 
 Besides, collected in the passive veins. 
 The purple mass a sudden torrent rolls. 
 
AUTUMN — OCTOBER. 
 
 O'crpowors tho heart, and deluges the lungs 
 "With dangerous inundation : oft tho sourco 
 Of futal woes ; a cough that foams with blood, 
 Asthma, and feller Pcripneumony,' 
 Or tho slow minings of the hcotio Are. 
 
 Th' athletic fool, to whom what heaven denied 
 Of soul is well compensated in limbs. 
 Oft from his nvgo, or brainless frolio, feels 
 His vegetative and brute force decay. 
 The men of better clay and finer mould 
 Know nature, feel the human dignity ; 
 And scorn to vie with oxen and with apes. 
 Pursued proli.\ly, even tho gentlest toil 
 Is waste of health : repose by small fatigue 
 Is earned ; and (where your habit is not prone 
 To thaw) by the first moisture of tho brows. 
 The fine and subtle spirits cost too much 
 To be profused, too much the roscid balm. 
 
 AVOID Sl'DDBX DRINKING OF WATER AFTER SWEATINa. 
 
 But when the hard varieties of life 
 You toil to learn ; or try the dusty chase, 
 Or the warm deeds of some important day ; 
 Ilot from the field, indulge not yet your limbs 
 In wished repose ; nor court the fanning gale. 
 Nor taste the spring. ! by the sacred tears 
 Of widows, orphans, mothers, sisters, sires. 
 Forbear ! No other pestilonco has driven 
 Such myriads o*er the irremeable deep. 
 ^Vhy this so fatal, the sagacious muse 
 Through Nature's cunning labyrinths could trace : 
 But there are secrets which who knows not now, 
 JIust, ere he reach them, climb tho heapy Alps 
 Of science ; and devote seven years to toil. 
 
 T is not for those whom gelid skies ( 
 
 And chilling fogs ; whose perspiration feels 
 
 Such frequent bars from Eurus and tho North ; 
 
 "T is not for those to cultivate a skin 
 
 Too soft : or teach tho rcorcmental fumo 
 
 Too fust to crowd through such precarious ways. 
 
 Fi>r through tho small arterial mouths, that pierce 
 
 In endless millions the close-woven skin. 
 
 The baser fluids in a constant stream 
 
 Escape, and viewless molt into tho winds. 
 
 Whilu this eternal, this most copious waste 
 
 "I I'l I. degenerate into vapid brine, 
 
 .Miiinliiiiis its wonted measure, all tho powers 
 Ul hcultli befriend you, all tho wheels of life 
 
 I With case and pleasure move ; but this restrained 
 Or more or less, so more or less you feel 
 
 I The lum-liuns hib.ir : fr..m this fatal yourco 
 
 I :;■;'■""'' ''' ' ''",'':'■''':'''■'■■ 7;;;;';;;^. 
 
 Ul uu.t^ iu.il, uiun ilii' blu.-Uiiii;; .\v,iLh embroils 
 The Baltic, thunder on tho ijorman shore. 
 
 ICE AS TO HEALTH. 
 
 Besides, I would not stun your patient ears 
 With what it little boots you to attain. 
 He knows enough, the mariner, who knows [boil; 
 Where lurk tho shelves, and where tho whirlpools 
 What signs portend the storm : to subtler minds 
 Ho leaves to scan, from what mysterious cause 
 Charybdis rages in tho Ionian wave ; 
 Whence those impetuous currents in the main 
 Which neither oar nor sail can stem ; ond why 
 The roughening deep expects the storm, as sure 
 As red Orion mounts the shrouded heaven. 
 
 
 Subject not, then. !■; 
 This grand cxpans. . 
 To every caprice of 1' ■ t 
 
 The genius of your .liii l.luod 
 
 Least fickle rise tho rci:reiii«_-iital >t'.am5. 
 And least obnoxious to the styptic air. 
 Which breathe thro' straiter and more callous pores. 
 Tho tempered Scythian hence, half naked, treads 
 His boundless snows, nor roes th' inclement heaven ; 
 And hence our painted ancestors defied 
 The East : nor cursed, like us, their fickle sky. 
 
 In ancient times, when Rome with Athens vied 
 For polished luxury and useful arts ; 
 All hot and reeking from tho Olympic strife. 
 And warm palsestra, in the tepid bath 
 The athletic youth relaxed their weary limbs. 
 Soft oils bedewed them, with tho grateful powers 
 Of nard and cassia fraught, to soothe and heal 
 The cherished nerves. Our less voluptuous climo 
 Not much invites us to such arts as these. 
 I The 
 
 The body, moulded by the clime, endures 
 The Equator heats or Hyperborean frost : 
 Except by habits foreign to its turn. 
 Unwise, you counteract its forming power. 
 Rude at the first, the Winter shocks you less 
 By long acquaintance ; study, then, your sky. 
 Form to its manners your obse<)uious frame, 
 And learn to suficr what yuu cannot shun. 
 Against the rigors of a damp, cold heaven 
 To fortify their bodies, some frequent 
 The gelid cistern ; and, where naught forbids, 
 I praise their dauntless heart : a frame so steeled 
 Dreads not the cough, nor those ungenial blasts 
 That breathe the tertian or fell rheumatism : 
 The nerves so tempered never quit their tone. 
 No chronic languors haunt such hardy breasts. 
 
 But all things have their bounds : and he who 
 By daily use, tho kindest regimen [makes. 
 
 Essential to his health, should never mix 
 With humankind, nor art nor trade pursue. 
 
340 
 
 RURAL POETRT. ARMSTRONG. 
 
 He not the safe vicissitudes of life 
 
 Without some shoolj endures ; ill-fitted he 
 
 To want the known or bear unusual things. 
 
 Besides, the powerful remedies of pain 
 
 (Since pain in spite of all our care will come) 
 
 Should never with your prosperous days of health 
 
 Grow too familiar ; for by frequent use 
 
 The strongest medicines lose their healing power, 
 
 And even the surest poisons theirs to kill. 
 
 NOBTHERNEES VISITING A SOOTHERS CLIME SHOULD BATH! 
 FREELY. 
 
 Let those who from the frozen Arctos reach 
 Parched Jlauritania, or the sultry West, 
 Or the wide flood through rich Indostan rolled, 
 Plunge thrice a day, and in the tepid wave 
 Untwist their stubborn pores ; that full and free 
 The evaporation through the softened skin 
 May bear proportion to the swelling blood. 
 So shall they 'scape the fever's rapid flames ; 
 So feel untainted the hot breath of hell. 
 
 WARM BATBS.— CLEASLi; 
 
 With us, the man of no complaint demands 
 The warm ablution just enough to clear 
 The sluices of the skin, enough to keep 
 The body sacred from indecent soil. 
 Still to be pure, even did it not conduce 
 (As much it does) to health, were greatly worth 
 Your daily pains. 'T is this adorns the rich ; 
 The want of this is poverty's worst woe ; 
 With this external virtue age maintains 
 A decent grace ; without it youth and charms 
 Are loathsome. This the venal graces know ; 
 So doubtless do your wives : for married sires, 
 As well as lovers, still pretend to taste ; 
 Nor is it less (all prudent wives can tell) 
 To lose a husband's than a lover's heart. 
 
 But now the hours and seasons when to toil 
 From foreign themes recall my wandering song. 
 Some labor fasting, or but slightly fed, 
 To lull the grinding stomach's hungry rage. 
 Where nature feeds too corpulent a frame 
 'T is wisely done : for while the thirsty veins, 
 Impatient of lean penury, devour 
 The treasured oil, then is the happiest time 
 To shake the lazy balsam from its cells. 
 Now, while the stomach from the full repast 
 Subsides, but ore returning hunger gnaws, 
 Ye leaner habits, give an hour to toil : 
 And ye whom no luxuriancy of growth 
 Oppresses yet, or threatens to oppress. 
 
 But from the recent meal no labors please, 
 Of limbs or mind. For now the cordial powers 
 Claim all the wandering spirits to a work 
 Of strong and subtle toil, and groat event : 
 A work of time : and you may rue the day 
 
 You hurried, with untimely exercise, 
 A half-concocted chyle into the blood. 
 The body overcharged with unctuous phlegm 
 Much toil demands : thd lean elastic less. 
 
 While Winter chills the blood, and binds the veins, 
 No labors are too hard : by those you 'scape 
 The slow diseases of the torpid year ; 
 Endless to name ; to one of which alone. 
 To that which tears the nerves, the toil of slaves 
 Is pleasure : ! from such inhuman pains 
 May all be free who merit not the wheel ! 
 But from the burning Lion when the sun 
 Pours down his sultry wrath ; now while the blood 
 Too much already maddens in the veins. 
 And all the finer fluids through the skin 
 Explore their flight ; me, near the cool cascade 
 Reclined, or sauntering in the leafy grove. 
 No needless, slight occasion should engage 
 To pant and sweat beneath the fiery noon. 
 
 Now the fresh morn alone and mellow eve 
 To shady walks and active rural sports 
 Invite. But, while the chilling dews descend, 
 May nothing tempt you to the cold embrace 
 Of humid skies ; though 't is no vulgar joy 
 To trace the horrors of the solemn wood 
 While the soft evening saddens into night : 
 Though the sweet poet of the vernal groves 
 Melts all the night in strains of am'rous woe. 
 
 The shades descend, and midnight o'er the world 
 Expands her sable wings. Great Nature droops 
 Through all her works. How happy he whose toil 
 Has o'er his languid, powerless limbs diffused 
 A pleasing lassitude ; he not in vain 
 Invokes the gentle Deity of Dreams. 
 His powers the most voluptuously dissolve 
 In soft repose : on him the balmy dews 
 Of sleep with double nutriment descend. 
 
 But would you sweetly waste the blank of night 
 In deep oblivion ; or on fancy's wings 
 Visit the paradise of happy dreams, 
 And waken cheerful as the lively morn ; 
 Oppress not Nature sinking down to rest 
 With feasts too late, too solid, or too full : 
 But be the first concoction half-matured 
 Ere you to mighty indolence resign 
 Your passive faculties. He from the toils 
 And troubles of the day to heavier toil 
 Retires, whom trembling from the tower that rocks 
 Amid the clouds, or Calpe's hideous height. 
 The busy demons hurl ; or in the main 
 O'orwhelm ; or bury struggling under ground. 
 
AUTUMN — OCTOBER. 
 
 341 
 
 HORRID DRSiMS.— TvnAT DBRAMS PORTBND. 
 
 Kot all 11 monaioh's luxury tho woes 
 Can countorpoiso of that most wretched man, 
 Whoso nights are shaken with tho frantic fits 
 Of wilJ Orestes ; whose delirious brain, 
 Stung by tho Furies, works with poisoned thought : 
 While pale and monstrous painting shocks tho soul j 
 And mangled consciousness bemoans itself 
 P'orover torn, and chaos floating round. 
 What dreams presage, what dangers thcso or tnoso 
 Portend to sanity, though prudent seers 
 Koveoled of old, and men of deathless fame, 
 Wo would not to tho superstitious mind 
 Suggest new throbs, now vanities of fear. 
 'T is ours to teach you from a peaceful night 
 To banish omens and all restless woes. 
 
 MIDXIGHT STCDY AND NOONDAY SLEEP REPROBATED. 
 
 In study somo protract tho silent hours, 
 AVhich others consecrate to mirth and wine. 
 And sleep till noon, and hardly lire till night : 
 But surely this redeems not from the shades 
 One hour of life. Nor does it naught avail 
 What season you to drowsy Morpheus give 
 Of the ever-varying circle of tho day" ; 
 Or whether, through tho tedious winter gloom, 
 You tempt tho midnight or tho morning damps. 
 
 THE MORNING CmLLS BETTER ENDCRED THAN THOSE AT M!D- 
 
 PEBSPIRATION. ■ 
 
 CIRCULATION, 1 
 
 The body, fresh and vigorous from repose, 
 Defies the early fogs : but, by tho toils 
 Of wakeful day exhausted and unstrung. 
 Weakly rc.si.>ts the night's unwholesome breath. ^ 
 The -r:iii.l li Imj. , lin- <>iriision of tho skin, 
 Slowly I. , i, ■ . i I iiu'iiid maladies 
 Creep fii, i:, i I'.r, ,!_!i i]ir sickening functions steal. 
 So when tlic cliilliii^ wii.t invades tho Spring, 
 The delicate Narcissus pines away 
 In hectic languor : and a slow disease 
 Taints all tho family of flowers, condemned 
 To cruel heavens. But why, already prono 
 To fade, should beauty cherish its own bane ? 
 shame ! pity ! nipped with palo quadrille, 
 And midnight cares, the bloom of Albion dies ! 
 
 rior and tho hind 
 iictivo functions soon 
 -ubtlo tubes supply ; 
 
 Bylnil -ul,.|,. 
 
 S1C0|. (.:■■■ Hi 
 
 With -•■■■ 
 
 And souu i!;c I. -UK, ii,i;.il,lo nerves 
 
 Feel tho fresh impulse, and awake tho soul. 
 
 The sons of indolence with long repose 
 
 Grow torpid : and, with slowest Lctho drunk, 
 
 Feebly and lingeringly return to life. 
 
 Blunt every sense, and powerless every limb. 
 
 Yo prone to sleep (whom sleeping most annoys), 
 
 On tho hard mattress or elastic couch 
 
 Extend your limbs, and wean yourselves from sloth; 
 
 Nor grudge the lean projoctoi^ of dry brain 
 
 And springy ncrvos, tho blandishments of down ; 
 
 Nor envy, while tho buried bacchanal 
 Exhales his surfeit in prolixer dreams. 
 
 lie, without riot, in tho balmy feast 
 Of lifu, tho wants of nature has supplied, 
 Who rises cool, serene, and full of soul. 
 But pliant nature more or logs demands. 
 As custom forms her ; and all sudden change 
 She hates of habit, even from bad to good. 
 If faults in life, or now emergonoics. 
 From habits urge you by long time confirmed. 
 Slow may tho change arrive, and stage by stage ; 
 Slow as the shadow o'er the dial moves. 
 Slow as tho stealing progress of tho year. 
 
 GRADUAL CHANGE OV THE SEASONS. —WHEN TO ISB FURS. 
 
 Observe tho circling year. IIow unpcrceived 
 Her seasons change ! Behold ! by slow degrees, 
 Stern Winter tamed into a ruder Spring ; 
 The ripened Spring a milder Summer glows ; 
 Departing Summer sheds Pomona's store ; 
 And aged Autumn brews tho winter .■*tt)riii. 
 Slow as they come, these changes come not void 
 Of mortal shocks : tho cold and torrid reigns. 
 The two great periods of tho important year, 
 Are in their first approaches seldom safe : 
 Funereal Autumn all the sickly dread. 
 And the black Fates deform tho lovely Spring. 
 
 lie well-advised, who tanght our wiser sires 
 Early to borrow Muscovy's warm spoils, 
 Ero tho first frost has touched tho tender blade ; 
 And late resign them, though tho wanton Spring 
 Should deck her charms with all her sister's rays. 
 For while the effluence of the skin maintains 
 Its native measure, tho pleuritic Spring 
 Glides harmless by ; and Autumn, sick to death 
 With sallow quartans, no contagion breathes. 
 
 IF DISEASE THREATENS, CONSULT YOUR PUVSICIAX. 
 
 I in prophetic numbers could unfold 
 Tho omens of tho year : what seasons teem 
 With what diseases ; what tho humid South 
 Prepares, and what tho demon of the East : 
 But you perhaps refuse tho tedious song. 
 Besides, whatever plagues in heat, or cold. 
 Or drought, or moisture, dwell, they hurt not yon. 
 Skilled to correct tho vices of the sky, 
 And taught already how to each extreme 
 To bond your life. But should tho public banc 
 Infect you ; or somo trespass of your own. 
 Or flaw of nature, hint mortality : 
 Soon as a not unpleasing horror glides 
 .Vlong the spine, through all your torpid limbs ; 
 When first the head throbs, or the stomach feels 
 A sickly load, a weary pain the loins ; 
 Bo Celsus called ; tho Fates come rushing on ; 
 The rapid Fates admit of no delay. 
 While ivilful you, and fatally secure. 
 Expect to-morrow's moro auspicious sun, 
 Tho growing post, whose infancy was weak 
 And easy vanquished, with triumphant sway 
 O'erpowers your life. For want of timely care, 
 Millions havo died of medicable wounds. 
 
342 
 
 RURAL POETRY. ARMSTRONG. 
 
 Ah! 
 
 ■ TRIFLES MAT EXPOSE LIFE. — EPIDEM 
 
 1 what perils is vain life engaged ! 
 
 What slight neglects, what trivial faults, destroy 
 
 The hardiest frame ! of indolence, of toil. 
 
 We die ; of want, of superfluity : 
 
 The all-surroundiug heaven, the vital air, 
 
 Is big with death. And though the putrid South 
 
 Be shut ; though no convulsive agony 
 
 Shake, from the deep foundations of the world, 
 
 The imprisoned plagues ; a secret venom oft 
 
 Corrupts the air, the water, and the land. 
 
 What livid deaths has sad Byzantium seen ! 
 
 How oft has Cairo,. with a mother's woe, 
 
 Wept o'er her slaughtered sons and lonely streets ! 
 
 Even Alhion, girt with less malignant skies, 
 
 Albion the poison of the gods has drank, 
 
 And felt the sting of monsters all her own. 
 
 SWEATING PLAGUE nURING THE CIVIL WARS OF ENGLAND. 
 
 Ere yet the fell Plantagenets had spent 
 Their ancient rage, at Bosworth's purple field ; 
 While, for which tyrant England should receive, 
 Her legions in incestuous murders mi.\ed. 
 And daily horrors ; till the Fates were drunk 
 With kindred blood by kindred hands profused ; 
 Another plague, of more gigantic arm, 
 Arose ; a monster never known before 
 Reared from Cocytus its portentous head. 
 This rapid fury not like other pests 
 Pursued a gradual course, but in a day 
 Rushed as a storm o'er half the astonished isle, 
 And strewed with sudden carcasses the land. 
 
 First through the shoulders, or whatever part 
 Was seized the first, a fervid vapor sprung. 
 With rash combustion thence the quivering spark 
 Shot to the heart, and kindled all within ; 
 And soon the surface caught the spreading fires. 
 Through all the yielding pores, the melted blood 
 Gushed out in smoky sweats ; but naught assuaged 
 The torrid heat within, nor aught relieved 
 The stomach's anguish. With incessant toil. 
 Desperate of ease, impatient of their pain, 
 They tossed from side to side. In vain the stream 
 Ran full and clear ; they burnt and thirsted still. 
 The restless arteries with rapid blood 
 Beat strong and frequent. Thick and pantingly 
 The breath was fetched, and with huge laborings 
 At last a heavy pain oppressed the head, [heaved. 
 A wild delirium came ; their weeping friends 
 Were strangers now, and this no home of theirs. 
 Harassed with toil on toil, the sinking powers 
 Lay prostrate and o'erthrown ; a ponderous sleep 
 Wrapt all the senses up : they slept and died. 
 
 In some a gentle horror crept at first 
 O'er all the limbs ; the sluices of the skin 
 Withheld their moisture, till, by art provoked, 
 The sweats o'erflowed ; but in a clammy tide : 
 Now free and copious, now restrained and slow ; 
 Of tinctures various, as the temperature 
 Had mixed the blood ; and rank with fetid steams : 
 As if the pent-up humors by delay 
 
 Were grown more fell, more putrid, and malign. 
 Here lay their hopes (though little hope remained) 
 With full effusion of perpetual sweats 
 To drive the venom put. And here the Fates 
 Were kind, that long they lingered not in pain. 
 For, who survived the sun's diurnal race. 
 Rose from the dreary gates of hell redeemed : 
 Some the sixth hour oppressed, and some the third. 
 
 Of many thousands, few untainted 'scaped ; 
 Of those infected, fewer 'scaped alive : 
 Of those who lived, some felt a second blow ; 
 And whom the second spared, a third destroyed. 
 Frantic with fear, they sought by flight to shun 
 The fierce contagion. O'er the mournful land 
 The infected city poured her hurrying swarms : 
 Roused by the flames that fired her seats around, 
 The infected country rushed into the town. 
 Some sad at home, and in the desert some, 
 Abjured the fatal commerce of mankind : 
 In vain : where'er they fled, the Fates pursued. 
 Others, with hopes more specious, crossed the main, 
 To seek protection in far-distant skies ; 
 But none they found. It seemed the general air, 
 From pole to pole, from Atlas to the East, 
 Was then at enmity with English blood. 
 For, but the race of England, all were safe 
 In foreign climes ; nor did this fury taste 
 The foreign blood which England then contained. 
 Where should they fly ? The circumambient heaven 
 Involved them still ; and every breeze was bane. 
 Where find relief? The salutary art 
 Was mute ; and, startled at the new disease, 
 In fearful whispers hopeless omens gave, [prayers ; 
 To Heaven with suppliant rites they sent their 
 Heaven heard them not. Of every hope deprived ; 
 Fatigued with vain recourses ; and subdued 
 With woes resistless and enfeebling fear ; 
 Passive they sunk beneath the weighty blow. 
 Nothing but lamentable sounds was heard. 
 Nor aught was seen but ghastly views of death. 
 Infectious horror ran from face to face. 
 And pale despair. 'Twas all the business then 
 To tend the sick, and in their turns to die. 
 In heaps they fell : and oft one bed, they say. 
 The sickening, dying, and the dead contained. 
 
 Ye guardian gods, on whom the fates depend 
 Of tottering Albion ! ye eternal fires [powers 
 
 That lead through heaven the wandering year ! ye 
 That o'er the encircling elements preside ! 
 May nothing worse than what this age has seen 
 Arrive ! Enough abroad, enough at home. 
 Has Albion bled. Hero a distempered heaven 
 Has thinned her cities ; from those lofty cliffs 
 That awe proud Gaul, to Thule's wintry reign ; 
 While in the west, beyond the Atlantic foam, 
 Her bravest sons, keen for the fight, have died 
 The death of cowards and of common men : 
 Sunk void of wounds, and fallen without renown. 
 But from these views the weeping Muses turn. 
 And other themes invite my wandering song. 
 
iluval (["(lies for (i>rhUifr. 
 
 LONGFELLOW'S "AUTUMN." 
 With what a glory comes and goes the year ! — 
 Tho buds of Spring — those beautiful harbingers 
 Of sunny skies and cloudless times — enjoy 
 Life's newness, and earth's garniture spread out ; 
 And when tho silver habit of tho clouds 
 Comes down upon tho Autumn sun, and with 
 A sober gladness tho old year takes up 
 Uis bright inheritance of golden fruits, 
 A pomp and pageant fill the splendid scone. 
 
 There is a beautiful spirit breathing now 
 Its mellow richness on the clustered trees, 
 And from a beaker full of richest dyes 
 Pouring now glory on the Autumn woods. 
 And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds. 
 Morn on tho mountain, like a summer bird. 
 Lifts up her purple wing, and in the vales 
 The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate wooer, 
 Kisses tho blushing leaf, and stirs up life 
 Within the solemn woods of ash deep-crimsoned. 
 And silver beech, and maple yellow-leaved, — 
 Where Autumn, like a faint old man, sit5 down 
 By the way side a-weary. Through the trees 
 The golden robin moves ; tho purple finch. 
 That on wild cherry and red cedar feeds, — 
 A winter bird, — comes with its plaintive whistle, 
 And pecks by the witch-hazel, whilst aloud 
 From cottage roofs the warbling blue-bird sings ; 
 And merrily with oft-repeated stroke 
 Sounds from tho threshing-floor the busy flail. 
 
 what a glory doth this world put on 
 For him that with a fervent heart goes forth 
 Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks 
 On duties well performed, and days well spent ! 
 For him the wind, ay, the yellow leaves. 
 Shall have a voice, and give him eloquent teachings. 
 He shall so hear the solemn hymn, that Death 
 Has lifted up for all, that he shall go 
 To his long rcstiug-placc without a tear. 
 
 G.VLLAGIIER'S "WESTERN AUTUMN.' 
 
 The Autumn time is with us ! Its approach 
 Was heralded, not many days ago. 
 By hazy skies that veiled tho brazen sun. 
 And sea-like murmurs from the rustling corn, 
 And low-voiced brooks that wandered drowsily 
 By purling clusters of the juicy grape, 
 Swinging upon the vine. And now, 't is hero ! 
 
 And what a change hath passed upon the face 
 Of Nature, where thy waving forests spread, 
 Then robed in deepest green ! All through the night 
 The subtle frost hath plied its mystic art. 
 And in the day tho golden sun hath wrought 
 True wonders ; and the wings of morn and even 
 Have touched with magic breath the changing leaves. 
 And now, as wanders the dilating eye 
 Athwart the varied landscape circling fur, 
 What gorgeousness, what blazonry, what jmrnp 
 Of colors, bursts upon the ravished sight ! 
 Here, where the maple rears its yellow crest, 
 A golden glory ; yonder, where the oak 
 Stands monarch of the forest, and the ash 
 Is girt with flame-like piici-iic, ami liinad 
 The dog-wood spread > I., ni .iih .1 i. lint.; tit-Id 
 Of deepest crimson ; anl.iiai win n Immhis 
 The gnarled gum, a eKiuil «.■! Mjudic-t red ! 
 
 BRYANT'S "AUTUMN WOODS." 
 
 Eke, in the northern gale, 
 Tho summer tresses of the trees are gone, 
 Tho woods of Autumn, all around our vule. 
 
 Have put their glury on. 
 
 The mountains that infold. 
 In their wide sweep, tho colored landscape round. 
 Seem groups of giant kings in purple and gold. 
 
 That guard the enchanted ground. 
 
 I roam the woods that crown 
 The upland, where the mingled splendors glow. 
 Where the gay company of trees look down 
 
 On the green fields below. 
 
 My steps are not atono 
 In these bright walks; tho sweet south-west, at play, 
 Flies, rustling, where the painted leaves are strewn 
 
 Along tho winding way. 
 
 And far in heaven, the while, 
 Tho sun, that sends that gale to wander here. 
 Pours out on tho fair earth his quiet smile, — 
 
 The sweetest of tho year. 
 
 Where now tho solemn shade. 
 Verdure and gloom where many branches meet ; 
 So grateful, when the noon of Summer made 
 
 The valleys sick with heat ? 
 
 Lot in through all the trees 
 Come the strange rays; tho forest depths are bright; 
 Their sunny-colored foliage in the breeie 
 
 Twinkles, like beams of light. 
 
344 RURAL POETRY. — BRYANT LONGFELLOW. 
 
 The rivulet, late unseen, 
 
 O'er joys that ne'er will bloom again — 
 
 Where bickering through the shrubs its waters run. 
 
 Mourns on the far hill-side. 
 
 Shines with the image of its golden screen, 
 
 And yet my pensive eye 
 
 And glimmerings of the sun. 
 
 Rests on the faint blue mountain long. 
 
 But, 'neath yon crimson tree. 
 
 And for the fairy-land of song. 
 
 Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, 
 
 That lies beyond, I sigh. 
 
 Nor mark, within its roseate canopy. 
 
 The moon unveils her brow ; 
 
 Her blush of maiden shame. 
 
 In the mid sky her urn glows bright, 
 
 0, Autumn ! why so soon 
 
 And in her pale and mellow light 
 
 Depart the hues that make thy forests glad ; 
 
 The valley sleeps below. 
 
 Thy gentle wind and thy fair sunny noon. 
 
 I stand deep musing here. 
 
 And leave thee wild and sad ! 
 
 Beneath the dark and motionless beech. 
 
 Ah, 'twere a lot too blest 
 
 Whilst wandering winds of nightfall reach 
 
 Forever in thy colored shades to stray ; 
 
 My melancholy ear. 
 
 Amidst the kisses of the soft south-west 
 
 The air breathes chill and free ; 
 
 To rove and dream for aye ; 
 
 A spirit, in soft music, calls 
 
 And leave the vain, low strife 
 
 From Autumn's gray and moss-grown halls, 
 
 That makes men mad —the tug for wealth and power, 
 
 And round her withered tree. 
 
 The passions and the cares that wither life. 
 
 The hoar and mantled oak, 
 
 And waste its little hour. 
 
 With moss and twisted ivy brown, 
 
 
 Bends in its lifeless beauty down. 
 Where weeds the fountain choke. 
 
 
 LONGFELLOW'S "AUTUMNAL NIGHT- 
 
 Leaves, that the night-wind bears 
 
 FALL." 
 
 To earth's cold bosom with a sigh, 
 
 Eon.VD Autumn's mouldering urn. 
 
 Are types of our mortality. 
 
 Loud mourns the chill and cheerless gale, 
 
 And of our fading years. 
 
 When nightfall shades the quiet vale. 
 And stars in beauty burn. 
 
 The tree that shades the plain, 
 Wasting and hoar as time decays, 
 
 'T is the year's eventide. 
 
 Spring shall renew with cheerful days, — 
 
 The wind — like one that sighs in pain 
 
 But not my joys again. 
 
 
 
 • .k^^^^ 
 
 * 
 
 ' "1^^^^^^^ 
 
 ^^.-.^Sj68afev>^ . 
 
 
 -»^.=^*^^ " ~ 
 
^omcrbiKc's "(Tliasc' 
 
 Tlie subject propnswl. The oricin of hunting. The ruile ami 
 unpolishe.1 itmnners of the first hunters. Beiists at first 
 hunlcil for fixxl and Mcriftce. The grant made by God to 
 man of the beasts, Oen. 9 : 3. The regular manner of 
 
 the kenne!. Tii' ' 
 
 sortingof houii'l- ' ' " ' " 
 
 Of the large,.!, r i. ' : - , . .i - 
 
 Ofthelime-hooi. ! : . : I . 
 
 and Scotland, v i iv -. .. " " ■ ■ ■ - ■ ' ■- " - ' 
 and bad scenthii; .l..jo.. .V ..i. a .i.h..^:.i:i>j;: ijuii ''f "'- 
 ren of the couples. 
 
 S111JECT-, CniSB, UOISDS.-RIUE OKICIS OF HCSTISO. 
 
 TiiEohaso I sing, hounds, and their various breed, 
 And no less various use. * ♦ 
 
 When Niinrod bold, 
 That mighty hunter ! first made war on beasts, 
 And stained tho woodland green with purple dye, 
 New and unpolished was tho huntsman's art ; 
 Ni) stated rule, liis wanton will his guide, 
 WiUi villi' III 1 T 11. -. mile implements of war ! 
 lie iinii' i ' I I ' Mills, a multitude 
 Und..!!, I : 1 r I .^ ii-icTS formed, they pitch 
 Their uiLk-Bs loll.-. UiLii range the desert hills 
 And scour tho plains below : the trembling herd 
 Start at tho unusual sound, and clamorous shout, 
 Unheard before ; surprised, alas ! to find [lord, 
 
 Jinn now their foe, whom erst they deemed their 
 But mild and gentle, and by whom as yet 
 Secure they graied. Death stretches o'er the plain 
 M'ide wasting, and grim slaughter, red with blood : 
 
 Urged on by hunger keen, they wound, thoy kill ; 
 Their rage licentious knows no bound ; at last, 
 
 Encumbered with their spoils, joyful they bear 
 
 Upon their shoulders broad tho bleeding prey. 
 
 Part on their altar smokes, a sacrifice 
 
 To that all-gracious Power whoso bounteous hand 
 
 Supports this wide creation ; ' ' 
 
 On living coals they broil, 
 
 (»r taste, nor skilled as yet in nicer arts 
 
 Of pampered lu.xury. Devotion puro, 
 
 And strong necessity, thus first began 
 
 The chase of beasts ; though bloody was tho deed, 
 
 Yet without guilt ; for the green herb alone 
 
 Unequal to sustain man's laboring race, 
 
 Now ' every moving thing that lived ' on earth 
 
 Was granted him for food. So just is Heaven 
 To give us in proportion to our wants. 
 
 WILLIAM THE CONQITEROB ISTRODCCBD THE HEOCLAR CUASB. 
 
 Or clianco or industry in after times 
 Some few imprnvomcnts made, but short as yet 
 (If ilii' 1 ' I r 'i ti In this isle remote 
 Oil, I . II I I- were slow to learn : 
 '1 ,, III i. I I lie politer arts 
 
 ,\,,i Kill. I, 11 : iHilious; till from Neustria's ooiista 
 Victuriuus Williaiu to more decent rules 
 Subdued our Sa.\on fathers, taught to speak 
 The proper dialect, with horn and voice 
 To cheer the busy hound, whose well-known cry 
 His listening peers approve with joint acclaim. 
 I'rom him successive huntsmen learned to join 
 lu bloody social leagues the multitude 
 Dispersed, to size, to sort their various tribes ; 
 To rear, feed, hunt, and discipline, the pack. 
 
 EXCELLF.SCB OF BRITISH UOBSES AND nODNDS. — I'SE. 
 
 Hail, happy liritain : highly-favored isle, 
 And Heaven's peculiar care ! to thee 'tis given 
 To train the sprightly steed, more fleet than those 
 Begot by winds, or tho celestial breed 
 That bore the great Pelides through tho press 
 Of heroes armed, ami broke their crowded ranks, 
 Which r.^o"■ll.^ 1" '-'":"-■ "i'l' '!"■ -"" logins, 
 
 Cheerful, In " ■ , m I. ' n In 1" iins decline, 
 
 Hasmea.-uri.l imli i!., -n.:.-' nnh,ii-ucd. 
 
 Intheeulouc, l.ut l.i..a ol Liberty ! 
 Is bred the perfect huuud, in scent and speed 
 As yet unrivalled, while in other climes 
 Their virtue fails, a weak, degenerate race. 
 In vain malignant steams and winter fogs 
 Load the dull air and hover round our coast ; 
 The huntsman ever gay, robust, and bold. 
 Defies tho noxious vapor, and confides 
 In this delightful e-xereise to raiso 
 His drooping head, and cheer his heart with joy. 
 
 Yo' 
 
 IS nONTER TO WEALTHY LANDHOLDERS. 
 
 I youths ! by smiling fortune blest 
 
 With large demesnes, hereditary wealth 
 
 Heaped copious by your wise forefathers' care, 
 
 Hear and attend ! while I the means reveal 
 
 To enjoy these pleasures, for the weak too strong, 
 
 Too costly for tho poor : to rein tho steed 
 
 Swift stretching o'er the plain, to cheer the jmck 
 
 Opening in concert of harmonious joy, 
 
 But breathing death. What though the gripo severe 
 
 Of brazen-fisted time, and slow disease 
 
 Creeping through every vein, and nerve unstrung, 
 
 Afflict ray shattered frame, — undaunted still 
 
 Fixed as a mountain-ash that braves tho bolts 
 
 44 
 
RURAL POETRY. SOMERVILLE. 
 
 Of angry Jove, though blasted yet unfallen ; 
 StiU can my soul in fancy's mirror view 
 Deeds glorious once, recall the joyous scene 
 In all its splendors decked, o'er the full bowl 
 Recount my triumphs past, urge others on 
 With hand and voice, and point the winding way ; 
 Pleased with that Social, sweet garrulity. 
 The poor, disbanded veteran's sole delight. 
 
 First let the kennel be the huntsman's care, 
 Upon some little eminence erect. 
 And fronting to the ruddy lawn ; its courts 
 On either hand wide opening to receive 
 The sun's all-cheering beams, when mild he shines. 
 And gilds the mountain-tops ; for much the pack, 
 Roused from their dark alcoves, delight to stretch 
 And bask in his invigorating ray. 
 
 Warmed by the streaming light, and merry lark, 
 Forth rush the jolly clan ; with tuneful throats 
 They carol loud, and in grand chorus joined 
 Salute the new-born day : for not alone 
 The vegetable world, but men and brutes 
 Own his reviving influence, and joy 
 At his approach. Fountain of light ! if chance 
 Some envious cloud veil thy refulgent brow. 
 In vain the muse's aid ; untouched, unstrung, 
 Lies my mute harp, and thy desponding bard 
 Sits darkly musing o'er the unfinished lay. 
 
 Let no Corinthian pillars prop the dome ; 
 A vain expense, on charitable deeds 
 Better disposed, to clothe the tattered wretch 
 Who shrinks beneath the blast, to feed the poor 
 Pinched with afflictive want. For use, not state, 
 Gracefully plain, let each apartment rise. 
 O'er all let cleanliness preside, no scraps 
 Bestrew the pavement, and no half-picked bones 
 To kindle fierce debate, or to disgust 
 That nicer sense on which the sportsman's hope 
 -4nd all its future triumphs must depend. 
 
 Soon as the growling pack, with eager joy. 
 Have lapped their smoking viands, morn or eve. 
 From the full cistern lead the ductile streams. 
 To wash thy court well paved, nor spare thy pains; 
 For much to health will cleanliness avail. 
 Seek'st thou for hounds to climb the rocky steep. 
 And brush the entangled covert, whose nice scent 
 O'er greasy fallows and frequented roads 
 Can pick the dubious way ? Banish far off 
 Each noisome stench ; let no oflensive smell 
 Invade thy wide enclosure, but admit 
 The nitrous air and purifying breeze. 
 
 Water and shade no less demand thy care. 
 In a large square the adjacent field enclose ; 
 There plant, in equal ranks, the spreading elm. 
 Or fragrant lime ; most happy thy design, 
 If at the bottom of thy spacious court 
 A large canal, fed by the crystal brook, 
 From its transparent bosom shall reflect 
 Thy downward structure and inverted grove. 
 
 Here, when the sun's too potent gleams annoy 
 The crowded kennel ; and the drooping pack. 
 Restless and faint, loll their unmoistened tongues, 
 And.drop their feebjo tails ; to cooler shades 
 Lead forth the panting tribes : soon shalt thou find 
 The cordial breeze their fainting hearts revive : 
 Tumultuous soon they plunge into the stream, 
 There lave their reeking sides ; with greedy joy 
 Gulp down the flying wave ; this way and that 
 From shore to shore they swim, while clamor loud 
 And wild uproar torment the troubled flood : 
 Then on the sunny bank they roll and stretch 
 Their dripping limbs, or else in wanton rings 
 Coursing around, pursuing and pursued. 
 The merry multitude disporting play. 
 
 But here with watchful and observant eye 
 Attend the frolics which too often end 
 In bloody broils and death. High o'er thy head 
 Wave thy resounding whip, and with a voice 
 Fierce, menacing, o'errule the stern debate, 
 And quench their kindling rage : for oft, in sport 
 Begun, combat cnsiios : p;rnivling they snarl. 
 Then, on tlnii Idiuh^Ii'- m :iii'ii, rampant they seize 
 Each othiT'.^ tlm [ii-, with iruth and claws in gore 
 Besmeared ; tiny wi.uuJ, tUcy tear, till on the 
 
 ground. 
 Panting, half-dead, the conquered champion lies : 
 Then sudden all the base, ignoble crowd, 
 Loud-clam'ring, seize the helpless, worried wretch, 
 And, thirsting for his blood, drag difi'erent ways 
 His mangled carcass on th* ensanguined plain. 
 beasts of pity void ! to oppress the weak. 
 To point your vengeance at the friendless head. 
 And with one mutual cry insult the fallen ! 
 Emblem too just of man's degenerate race. 
 
 Others apart, by native instinct led, 
 Knowing instructor ! 'mong the ranker grass 
 Cull each salubrious plant, with bitter juice 
 Conoootive stored, and potent to allay 
 Each vicious ferment. Thus the hand divine 
 Of Providence, beneficent and kind 
 To all His creatures, for the brutes prescribes 
 A ready remedy, and is himself 
 Their great Physician. Now grown stiff with age 
 And many a painful chase, the wise old bound. 
 Regardless of the frolic pack, attends 
 His master's side, or slumbers at his ease 
 Beneath the bending shade : there many a ring 
 Runs o'er in dreams ; now on the doubtful soil 
 Puzzles perplexed, or doubles intricate. 
 Cautious unfolds ; then, winged with all his speed, 
 Bounds o'er the lawn to seize his panting prey, 
 And in imperfect whimpering speaks his joy. 
 
 A different hound for every different chase 
 Select with judgment ; nor the timorous hare 
 
AUTUMN — OCTOBER. 
 
 847 
 
 Commtohcd destroy, but Icavo tliot vilo offence 
 
 To the mean, murderous, coursing crew, intent 
 
 On blood and spoil. 0, blast their hopes, just Heaven! 
 
 And all their painful drudgeries repay 
 
 AVith disappointmeut and severe remorse. 
 
 But husband thou thy pleosures, and give soopo 
 
 To all her subtle play. By nature led, 
 
 A thousand shifts she tries ; to unravel those 
 
 The industrious beagle twists his waving tail, 
 
 Through all her labyrinths pursues, and rings 
 
 Her doleful knell. See then with countenance blithe, 
 
 And with a courtly grin, the fawning hound 
 
 Salutes thee cowering ; his wide-opening nose 
 
 Upwards he curls : and his large, sloe-black eyes 
 
 Melt in soft blandishments and humbled joy : 
 
 His glossy skin, or yellow pied, or blue, 
 
 In lights or shades by Nature's pencil drawn, 
 
 Reflects the various tints ; his rush-grown tail 
 
 O'er his broad back bends in an ample arch : 
 
 On shoulders clean, upright and firm he stands ; 
 
 His round cat-foot, straight hams, and wide-spread 
 
 thighs, 
 And his low-drooping chest, confess his speed. 
 His strength, his wind, or on the steepy hill, 
 Or fnr-extended plain ; in every part 
 So well proportioned, that the nicer skill 
 Of Phidias himself can't blame thy choice : — 
 Of such compose thy pack. But here a mean 
 Observe, nor the large hound prefer, of size 
 Gigantic ; he in the thick-woven covert 
 Painfully tugs, or in the thorny brake. 
 Torn and embarrassed, bleeds ; but if too small, 
 The pigmy brood in every furrow swims ; 
 Moiled in the clogging clay, panting they lag 
 Behind, inglorious ; or else, shivering, creep, 
 Benumbed and faint, beneath the sheltering thorn : 
 For hounds^of middle size, active and strong, 
 ■\Vill better answer all thy various ends, 
 And crown thy pleasing labors with success. 
 
 As some brave captain, curious and exact, 
 By his fixed standard forms in equal ranks 
 His gay battalion, as one man they move 
 Step after step, their size the same, their arms 
 Far gleaming dart the same united blaze : 
 Reviewing generals his merit own ; 
 How regular ! how just ! and all his cares 
 Are well repaid if mighty George approve : — 
 So model thou thy pack, if honor touch 
 Thy generous soul, and the world's just applause ; 
 But above all take heed, nor mix the hounds 
 Of different kinds ; discordant sounds shall grate 
 Thy ears offended, and a lagging line 
 Of babbling curs disgrace thy broken pack. 
 
 But if the amphibious otter be thy chase. 
 Or stately stag that o*er the woodland reigns ; 
 Or if the harmonious thunder of the field 
 Delight thy ravished ears ; the deep-Sowed bound 
 
 Breed up with care, strong, heavy, slow, but sure : 
 
 Whose ears, doivn-hanging from his thick round head, 
 
 Shall sweep the morning dew; whoso clanging voice 
 
 Awake the mountain echo in her cell. 
 
 And shake the forests : the bold Talbot kind 
 
 Of these the prime, as white as Alpine snows ; 
 
 And great their use of old. Upon the banks 
 
 Of Tweed, slow-winding through the vale, the seat 
 
 Of war and rapine once, ere Britons knew 
 
 The sweets of peace, or Anna's dread commands 
 
 To busting leagues the haughty rivals awe<l, — 
 
 There dwelt a pilfering race, well trained and skilled 
 
 In all the mysteries of theft, the spoil 
 
 Their only substance, feuds and war their sport ; 
 
 Nor more expert in every fraudful art 
 
 The arch felon ' wivs of old, who by the tail 
 
 Drew back his lowing prize : in vain his wiles, 
 
 In vain the shelter of the covering rock, 
 
 In vain the sooty cloud and ruddy flumes 
 
 That issued from his mouth : for soon he paid 
 
 His forfeit life j a debt how justly due 
 
 To wronged Alcides and avenging Heaven ! 
 
 Veiled in the shades of night they ford the stream. 
 
 Then prowling far and near, whatc'cr they seize 
 
 Becomes their prey ; nor flocks nor herds are safe, 
 
 Nor stalls protect the steer, nor strong-barred doors 
 
 Secure the favorite horse. Soon as the morn 
 
 Reveals his wrongs, with ghastly visage wan, 
 
 The plundered owner stands, and from his lips 
 
 A thousand thronging curses burst their way : 
 
 He calls his stout allies, and in a line 
 
 His faithful hound he lends, then, with a voice 
 
 That utters loud his rage, attentive chocra ; 
 
 Soon the sagacious brute, his curling tail 
 
 Flourished in air, low-bending plies around 
 
 His busy nose, the steaming vapor snuffs 
 
 Inquisitive, nor leaves one turf untried. 
 
 Till, conscious of the recent strains, his heart 
 
 Beats quick ; his snufling nose, his active tail. 
 
 Attest his joy ; then with deep-opening mouth, 
 
 That makes the welkin tremble, he proclaims 
 
 The audacious felon : foot by foot he marks 
 
 His winding way, while all the listening crowd 
 
 Applaud his reasonings. O'er the watery ford. 
 
 Dry sandy heaths, and stony barren hills. 
 
 O'er beaten paths, with men and beasts distained, 
 
 Unerring he pursues, till at the cot 
 
 Arrived, and seizing by his guilty throat 
 
 The caitiff vile, redeems the captive prey : — 
 
 So exquisitely delicate his sense ! 
 
 CilSES OP SCEST ISD SCBXTISO. 
 
 Should some more curious sportsman hero inquire 
 Whence this sagacity, this wondrous power 
 Of tracing step by stop or man or brute 7 
 What guide invisible points out their way 
 O'er the dark marsh, bleak hill, and sandy plain 7 
 The courteous muse shall the dark cause reveal. 
 
 The blood that from the heart inccs.<>ant rolls 
 In many a crimson tide, then hero and there 
 1 Cacus i see VirgU's JBneid, book vlli. 
 
■ RUKAL POETRY. SOMERVILLE. 
 
 In smaller rills disported, as it flows 
 
 Propelled, the serous particles evade 
 
 Througli the open pores, and with the amhient air 
 
 Entangling mix. As fuming ^ a] ors riw 
 
 And hang upon the gently-] nil i g biook 
 
 There by the incumbent atmo^I 1 ore c mpressed 
 
 The panting chase grows warmei as he fl cs 
 
 And through the net-work of the lim perspires 
 
 Leaves a long, streaming trail behin 1 which by 
 
 The cooler air condensed, remain's unless 
 
 By some rude storm dispersed or rarefied 
 
 By the meridian sun's intenser heat 
 
 To every shrub the warm effluv la cling 
 
 Hang on the grass, impregnate earth and skies 
 
 With nostrils opening wide o ei hill o er dale 
 
 The vigorous hounds pursue with every bieath 
 
 Inhale the grateful steam, [ uck pleas i es st ng 
 
 Their tingling nerves, while they then thankb repay 
 
 And in triumphant melody c i f 
 
 The titillating joy. Thus on thL a r 
 
 Depend the hunter's hopes. 
 
 When ruddy streaks 
 At eve forebode a blustering, stormy day, 
 Or lowering clouds blacken the mountain's brow ; 
 With nipping frosts, and the keen, biting blasts 
 Of the dry, parching east, menace the trees 
 With tender blossoms teeming ; kindly spare 
 Thy sleeping pack, in their warm beds of straw 
 Low-sinking at their ease ! listless they shrink 
 Into some dark recess, nor hear thy voice. 
 Though oft invoked ; or haply if thy call 
 Rouse up the slumbering tribe witli heavy eyes. 
 Glazed, lifeless, dull, downward they drop their tails 
 Inverted : high on their bent backs erect 
 Their pointed bristles stare, or 'inong the tufts 
 Of ranker weeds each stomach-healing plant 
 Curious they crop, sick, spiritless, forlorn. 
 These inauspicious days on other cares 
 Employ thy precious hours ; the improving friend 
 With open arms embrace, and from his lips 
 Glean science, seasoned with good-natured wit : 
 But if the inclement skies and angry Jove 
 Forbid the pleasing intercourse, thy books 
 Invite thy ready hand ; each sacred page 
 Rich with the wise remarks of heroes old : 
 Converse familiar with the illustrious dead ; 
 With great examples of old Greece or Rome 
 Enhirge tliy free-born heart, and bless kind Ueaven 
 That Britain yet enjoys dear liberty. 
 That balm of life, that sweetest blessing, cheap, 
 Though purchased with our blood. Well-bred, polite, 
 Credit thy calling. See ! how mean, how low. 
 The bookless, sauntering youth, proud of the skut 
 That dignifies his cap, his flourished belt, 
 And rusty couples jingling by his side ! 
 Be thou of other mould ; and know that such 
 Transporting pleasures were by Heaven ordained 
 Wisdom's relief, and Virtue's great reward. 
 
 BOOKS II., m., AND IV. 
 
 To bier 
 The 1 lut 
 
 ■ing guide 
 insloie 
 
 Anl oft tra 1 II n trught the roebuck 
 
 L iteis at ea e 1 fore the In ing pack [swift 
 
 And mocks then vain i i uit noi far he flies 
 But checks his ardor, till tl e steaming scent 
 That freshens on the blade provokes their rage. 
 Urged to their speed, his weak, deluded foes 
 Soon flag fatigued ; strained to excess, each nerve. 
 Each slackened sinew, fails : they pant, they foam : 
 Then o'er the lawn he bounds, o'er the high hills 
 Stretches secure, and leaves the scattered crowd 
 To iiiu/.Ir ill tlir ,li-tant vale below. 
 
 i 1- iii-tiiiii ilmt directs the jealous hare 
 To riiun-r hrr - .. It nbodc. With step reversed 
 Shi.' Iniiii- till- ilouliling maze ; then, ere the morn 
 Peeps through the clouds, leaps to her close recess. 
 
 As wandering shepherds on the Arabian plains 
 No settled residence observe, but shift 
 Their moving camp ; now on some cooler hill. 
 With cedars crowned, court the refreshing breeze ; 
 And then below, where trickling streams distil 
 From some penurious source, their thirst allay. 
 And feed their fainting flocks : so the wise hares 
 Oft quit their seats, lest some more curious eye 
 Should mark their haunts, and by dark treacherous 
 
 wiles 
 Plot their destruction ; or perchance in hopes 
 Of plenteous forage, near the ranker mead 
 Or matted blade wary and close they sit. 
 When Spring shines forth, season of love and joy. 
 In the moist marsh, 'mong beds of rushes hid, 
 They cool their boiling blood. When Summer suns 
 Bake the clift earth, to thick wide-waving fields 
 Of corn full-gruwn they lead their helpless young ; 
 But when Autumnal torrents and fierce rains 
 Deluge the vale, in the dry, crumbling bank 
 Their forms they delve, and cautiously avoid 
 The dripping covert : yet when Winter's cold 
 Their limbs benumbs, thither with speed returned, 
 In the long grass they skulk, or shrinking creep 
 Among the withered leaves : thus changing still 
 As fancy prompts them, or as food invites. 
 
AUTUMN — OCTOBER. 
 
 But orery season carefully observed, 
 The inconstant winds, the fickle clement, 
 The wise, experienced huntsman soon may find 
 His subtle, various game, nor waste in vain 
 His tedious hours, till his impatient hounds. 
 With disappointment vexed, each springing lark 
 Babbling pursue, far scattered o'er the fields. 
 
 UARE-nCNTINa i ACl 
 
 Now golden Autumn from her open lap 
 Her fragrant bounties showers ; the fields are shorn: 
 Inwardly smiling, the proud farmer views 
 The rising pyramids that grace his yard, 
 And counts his large increase : his barns are stored ; 
 And groaning staddles bend beneath their load. 
 All now is free as air, and the gay pack 
 In the rough, bristly stubble ran;;o unblamcd. 
 No widow's tea:-> "'■ 1 1' n . i .1,1 viirso 
 
 Swells in the far ' ,1, Lis pale lips 
 
 Trembling com'. :i I. I , ; , : (nlli.rd awed ; 
 
 But courteous now li, 1, , ]. . inj lunce, 
 •Joins in tho common cry, and Lulloos loud, 
 Charmed with tho rattling thunder of the field. 
 
 bear me, some kind power invisible ! 
 To tluit extended lawn, where tho gay court 
 View tho swift racers stretching to tho goal ; 
 (James more renowned, and a far nobler train. 
 Than proud Elean field could boast of old ; 
 0, were a Theban lyre not wanting here. 
 And Pindar's voice, to do their merit right ! [eye, 
 Or to those spacious plains ' where tho strained 
 In the wide prospect lost, beholds at last 
 iSarum's proud spire,' that o'er the hills ascends. 
 Ami pierces through the clouds : or to thy downs. 
 Fair Cotiwold ! where tho well-breathed beagle 
 
 climbs, 
 With matchless speed, thy green, aspiring brow. 
 And leaves tho lagging\iultitudo behind. 
 
 Hail, gentle Dawn ! mild blushing goddess, hail ! 
 Rejoiced I sec thy purple mantle spread 
 O'er half the skies ; gems pave thy radiant way, 
 And orient pearls from every shrub depend. 
 
 Farewell, Cleora ! here, deep sunk in down, 
 Slumber secure, with happy dreams amused. 
 Till grateful steams shall tempt thee to receive 
 Thy early meal ; or thy officious maids, 
 Tho toilet placed, shall urge thee to perform 
 The important work. Me other joys invito ; 
 The horn sonorous calls, tho pack awaked 
 Their matins chant, nor brook my long delay ; 
 My courser hears their voice : see there ! with ears 
 And tail erect, neighing he paws the ground ; 
 Fierce rapture kindles in his reddening eyes, 
 And boils in every vein. As captive boys. 
 Cowed by the ruling rod and haughty frowns 
 Of pedagogues severe, from their hard tasks 
 If once dismissed, no limits can contain 
 
 ' " Salisbury Cathedral 5 — Stonehengc is on Salisbury 
 
 Tho tumult raised within their little breasts. 
 But give a loose to all their frolic play ; 
 So from their kennel rush tho joyous pack ; 
 A thousand wanton gayeties express 
 Their inward ccsta..<y, their pleasing sport 
 Once more indulged, and liberty restored. 
 Tho rising sun, that o'er the horizon peeps, 
 As many colors from their glossy skins 
 Beaming reflects, as paint tho various bow 
 When April showers descend. Delightful scon 
 Where all around is gay — men, horses, dogs ; 
 And in each smiling countenance appears 
 Fresh blooming health, and universal joy. 
 
 PiCK i PCTTISO TDBM OS 
 
 CRY GENERAL EXCITK- 
 
 PLOIGU- 
 
 IIiii ! ill n '111 11 ; behind the clustering pack 
 Pu'ii . :. I, : ,u with respect thy whip 
 I."" I ' ! ! i(i I I liy harsher voice obey. 
 
 Siijir Ml il,. (iiL'LjIiMg cur that wildly roves, 
 But let thy bri:!k assistant on his back 
 Imprint shy just resentment ; let each lash 
 Bite to the quick, till howling ho return, 
 And wliiuiii^' .lull, among tho trembling crowd. 
 
 II' !•■ "11 lliy i( I'iaiit spot where Nature kind 
 Willi '1 iiit'lr IiIi--Iml,'s crowns the farmer's hopes, 
 Whir.' Il'.w.rc autumnal spring, and the rank mead 
 Affords tho wandering hares a rich repast. 
 Throw off thy ready pack. See where they spread, 
 And ran-L' ar.,un.;I, au.I .la-h the flittering dew ! 
 
 The . 
 
 ills 
 
 Repeat the pleasing tale. See how they thread 
 Tho brakes, and up yon furrow drive along ! 
 But quick they back recoil, and wisely check 
 Their eager baste ; then o'er the fallowed ground 
 How leisurely they work, and many a pause 
 The harmonious concert breaks ; till, more assured, 
 With joy redoubled tho low valleys ring. 
 What artful labyrinths perplex their way ! [doubts 
 
 Ah ! there she lies ; how close ! she pants, sho 
 If now sho lives : she trembles as sho sits. 
 With horror seized. The withered grass that clings 
 Around her head, of the same russet hue. 
 Almost deceived my sight, had not her eyes. 
 With life full beaming, her vain wiles betrayed. 
 
 At distance draw thy pack ; let all bo hushed ; 
 No clamor loud, no frantic joy, be heard ; 
 l/cst the wild hound run gadding o'er tho plain 
 Untractablc, nor hear thy chiding voice. 
 Now gently put her off ; see how direct [bring 
 
 To her known mew she flies ! Here, huntsman, 
 (But without hurry) all thy jolly hounds. 
 And calmly lay them in. How low they stoop 
 And seem to plough tho ground ! then all at onco 
 With greedy nostrils snuff the fuming steam [loose 
 That glads their fluttering hearts. As winds lot 
 
350 
 
 RURAL POETRY. SOMERVILLE. 
 
 From the dark caverns of the blustering god. 
 They burst away, and sweep the dewy lawn. [fear. 
 Hope gives them wings, while she 's spurred on by | 
 
 The welkin rings ; men, dogs, hills, rocks, and i 
 woods, j 
 
 In the full concert join. Now, my brave youths ! , 
 Stripped for the chase give all your souls to joy. 
 See how their coursers, than the mountain roe 
 More fleet, the verdant carpet skim ! Thick clouds 1 
 Snorting they breathe, their shining hoofs scarce 
 The grass unbruised ; with emulation fired, [print 
 They strain to lead the field, top the barred gate. 
 O'er the deep ditch exulting bound, and brush 
 The thorny-twining hedge : the riders bend 
 O'er their arched necks ; with steady hands by turns 
 Indulge their speed, or moderate their rage. 
 Where are their sorrows, disappointments, wrongs. 
 Vexations, sickness, cares ? All, all are gone ! 
 And with the panting winds lag far behind. 
 
 Huntsman ! her gait observe ; if in wide rings 
 She wheel her mazy way, in the same round 
 Persisting still, she 'II foil the beaten track : 
 But if she fly, and with the favoring wind 
 Urge her bold course, less intricate thy task ; 
 Push on thy pack. Like some poor exiled wretch. 
 The frighted chase leaves late her dear abodes, 
 O'er plains remote she stretches far away, 
 Ah, never to return ! for greedy Death 
 Hovering exults, secure to seize his prey. [oaks 
 
 Hark ! from yon covert, where those towering 
 Above the humble copse aspiring rise. 
 What glorious triumphs burst in every gale 
 Upon our ravished ears ! The hunter's shout, 
 The clanging horns swell their full-winding notes. 
 The pack wide-opening load the trembling air 
 With various melody ; from tree to tree 
 The propagated cry redoubling bounds ; 
 And winged zephyrs waft the floating joy 
 Through all the regions near. Afflictive birch 
 No more the school-boy dreads ; his prison broke. 
 Scampering he flies, nor heeds his master's call. 
 The weary traveller forgets his road, 
 And climbs the adjacent hill. The ploughman leaves 
 The unfinished furrow ; nor his bleating flocks 
 Are now the shepherd's joy. Men, boys, and girls, 
 Desert the unpeopled village ; and wild crowds 
 Spread o'er the plain, by the sweet frenzy seized. 
 
 Look how she pants ! and o'er yon opening glade 
 Slips glancing by : while at the further end 
 The puzzling pack unravel, wile by wile. 
 Maze within maze. The covert's utmost bound 
 Slyly she skirts ; behind them cautious creeps. 
 And in that very track so lately stained 
 By all the steaming crowd, seems to pursue 
 The foe she flies. Let cavillers deny 
 That brutes have reason ; sure 't is something more ; 
 'T is Heaven directs, and stratagems inspires 
 Beyond the short extent of human thought. 
 
 But hold — I see her from the covert break ; 
 Sad on yon little eminence she sits ; 
 Intent she listens with one ear erect. 
 Pondering and doubtful what new course to take. 
 And how to 'scape the fierce, blood-thirsty crew 
 That still urge on, and still, in volleys loud. 
 Insult her woes, and mock her sore distress. 
 
 As now in louder peals the loaded winds 
 Bring on the gathering storm, her fears prevail. 
 And o'er the plain, and o'er the mountain's ridge. 
 Away she flies ; nor ships with wind and tide. 
 And all their canvas wings, scud half so fast. 
 Once more, ye jovial train ! your courage try. 
 And each clean courser's speed. We scour along 
 In pleasing hurry and confusion tossed ; 
 Oblivion to be wished ! The patient pack 
 Hang on the scent unwearied ; up they climb, 
 And ardent we pursue ; our laboring steeds 
 We press, we gore ; till, once the summit gained. 
 Painfully panting, there wo breathe a while ; 
 Then, like a foaming torrent pouring down 
 Precipitant, we smoke along the vale. 
 Happy the man, who, with unrivalled speed, 
 Can pass his fellows, and with pleasure view 
 The struggling pack ! how in the rapid course 
 Alternate they preside, and jostling push 
 To guide the dubious scent ; how giddy youth 
 Oft blabbering errs, by wiser age reproved ; 
 How, niggard of his strength, the wise old hound 
 Hangs in the rear, till some important point 
 Rouse all his diligence, or till the chase 
 Sinking he finds ; then to the head he springs. 
 With thirst of glory fired, and wins the prize. 
 
 Huntsman ! take heed ; they stop in full career ; 
 Yon crowding flocks, that at a distance gaze, 
 Have haply foiled the turf. See that old hound, 
 How busily he works, but dares not trust 
 His doubtful sense ! Draw^^et a wider ring. 
 Hark ! now again the chorus fills ; as bells, 
 Sallied a while, at once their peal renew, 
 And high in air the tuneful thunder rolls. 
 See how they toss, with animated rage 
 Recovering all they lost ! That eager haste 
 Some doubling wile foreshows. Ah ! yet once more 
 They're checked — hold back with speed -.- on 
 
 either hand 
 They flourish round — e'en yet persist — 'tis right: 
 Away they spring ; the rustling stubble bends 
 Beneath the driving storm. Now the poor chase 
 Begins to flag, to her last shifts reduced. 
 From brake to brake she flics, and visits all [secure 
 Her well-known haunts, where once she ranged 
 With love and plenty blest. See ! there she goes ; 
 She reels along, and by her gait betrays 
 Her inward weakness. See how black she looks ! 
 The sweat that clogs the obstructed pores scarce 
 A languid scent. And now in open view [leaves 
 See ! see ! she flies ; each eager hound exerts 
 His utmost speed, and stretches every nerve. 
 How quick she turns, their gaping jaws eludes, 
 
AUTUMN — OCTOBER. 
 
 351 
 
 And yet a moment lives, till, round enclosed 
 By all the greedy pack, with infant screams 
 She yields her breath, and there reluctant dies ! 
 
 So when the furious Bacchanals assailed 
 Thrcioian Orpheus, poor, ill-fal«d bard ! 
 Loud ivas the cry; hills, woods, and Ilcbrus' banks. 
 Returned their clamorous rage : distressed ho flies. 
 Shifting from place to place, but flies in vain : 
 For eager they pursue ; till panting, faint. 
 By noisy multitudes o'erpowered, he sinks 
 To the relentless crowd a bleeding prey. 
 
 The huntsman now, a deep incision made. 
 Shakes out with hands impure, and dashes down, 
 Her reeking entrails, and yet quivering heart. 
 These claim the pack, the bloody perquisite 
 For all their toils : stretched on the ground she lies 
 A mangled corse ; in her dim-glaring eyes 
 Cold Death exults, and stiffens every limb. 
 Awed by the threatening whip, the furious hounds 
 Around her bay, or at their master's foot 
 Each happy favorite courts his kind applause, 
 With humble adulation cowering low. 
 All now is joy. With cheeks full-blown they wind 
 Uer solemn dirge, while the loud-opening pack 
 The concert swell, and hills and dales return 
 The sadly-pleasing sounds. Thus the poor hare, 
 A puny, dastard animal, but versed 
 In subtle wiles, diverts the youthful train. 
 
 A TiRTAR UINT ; ACRESC^.EBE OOISO FOBTH IS POMP. 
 
 But if thy proud, aspiring soul disdains 
 So mean a prey, delighted with the pomp. 
 Magnificence, and grandeur, of the chase ; 
 Hear what the muso from faithful record sings. 
 
 Why on the banks of Gemna, Indian stream. 
 Line within line rise the pavilions proud. 
 Their silken streamers waving in the wind ? 
 Why neighs the warrior horse ? From tent to tent 
 Why press in crowds the buzzing multitude? 
 Why shines the polished helm and jjointcd lance, 
 This way and that far beaming o'er the plain ? 
 Nor Visapour nor Golconda rebel. 
 Nor the great Sophy, with his numerous host, 
 Lays waste the provinces, nor glory fires 
 To rob ond to destroy, beneath the name 
 And specious guiso of war. A nobler cause 
 Calls Aurengzebe to arms. No cities sacked, 
 No mother's tears, no helpless orphan's cries. 
 No violated leagues, with sharp remorse 
 Shall sting the conscious victor, but mankind 
 Shall hail him good and just : for 't is on beasts 
 lie draws his vengeful sword ; on beasts of prey. 
 Full fed with human gore. See, see, he comes ! 
 Imperial Delhi, opening wide her gates, 
 Pours out her thronging legions, bright in arms, 
 And all the pomp of war. Before them sound 
 Clarions and trumpets, breathing martial airs 
 And bold defiance. High upon his throne. 
 Borne on the back of his proud elephant. 
 Sits the great chief of Timur's glorious race ; 
 Sublime he sits amid the radiant blaze 
 
 Of gems and gold. Omrahs about him crowd. 
 And rein the Arabian steed, and watch his nod. 
 And potent rajahs, who themselves preside 
 O'er realms of wide extent ; but here submiss 
 Their homage pay, alternate kings and slaves ; 
 Next these, with prying eunuchs girt around. 
 The fair sultanas of his court ; a troop 
 Of chosen beauties, but with care concealed 
 From each intrusive eye ; one look is death. 
 .Ah ! cruel Eastern law (had kings a power 
 But equal to their wild tyrannic will) ! 
 To rob us of the sun's all-cheering ray 
 Were less severe. The vulgar close the march. 
 Slaves and artificers ; and Delhi mourns 
 Her empty and depopulated streets. 
 
 THF. GRAND BIOOUL'S IIUSTISO CAMP. — PORirS, XBRXRS. — 
 BU.VTlSa.0RO0.VD MARKED j LAWS OP THE UDNT PROMUL- 
 GATED. — CIRCUIT STATIONED. — DESPOTIC ORDER. 
 
 Now at the camp arrived, with stern review, 
 Through groves of spears from file to file ho darts 
 His sharp, experienced eye, their order marks. 
 Each in his station ranged, exact and firm, 
 Till in the boundless line his sight is lost. 
 Not greater multitudes in arms appeared 
 On these extended plains, when Ammon's son 
 With mighty Porus in dread battle joined. 
 The vassal world the prize ; nor was that host 
 More numerous of old which the great king 
 Poured out on Greece from all the unpeopled East, 
 That bridf;c-.l th.' IMlr.;„„t fr. n- h-^n- to shore, 
 And drank ill'' 1 n 'I —i M i : ' !. in li-tR-jts 
 The busy Imiii-'i ni. ' < ^i-nnil, 
 
 u,.. ^, liv.rs, hills, and plliins, 
 
 tify 
 
 In compass nun l ; u 
 
 Largo pr('\ in '-, < 
 
 Ambition's Iml-Iit-i jnn, ..uil.l reason bound 
 
 Man's erring' will. .Now sit in close divan 
 
 The mighty chiefs of this prodigious host ; 
 
 He from the throne high eminent presides, 
 
 G ives out his mandate proud, laws of the chase, 
 
 From ancient records drawn. AVith reverence low 
 
 And prostrate at his feet, the chiefs receive 
 
 His irreversible decrees, from which 
 
 To vary is to die. Then his bravo bands 
 
 Each to his station leads, encamping round, 
 
 Till the wide circle is completely formed. 
 
 Where decent order reigns, what these command 
 
 Those execute with speed and punctual care, 
 
 In all the strictest discipline of war. 
 
 As if some watchful foe, with bold insult, 
 
 Hung lowering o'er their camp. The high resolve. 
 
 That flies on wings through all the encircling line, 
 
 Each motion steers, and animates the whole. 
 
 So, by the sun's attractive power controlled. 
 
 The planets in their spheres roll round his orb ; 
 
 On all he shines, and rules the great machine. 
 
 Ere yet the mom dispels the fleeting mists. 
 The signal given by the loud trumpet's voice. 
 
352 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — SOMERVILLE. 
 
 Now high in air the imperial standard waves, 
 Emblazoned rich with gold and glittering gems, 
 And like a sheet of fire through the dim gloom 
 Streaming meteorous. The soldiers' shouts. 
 And all the brazen instruments of war, 
 With mutual clamor and united din 
 Fill the large concave, while from camp to camp 
 They catch the varied sounds floating in air. 
 Round all the wide circumference, tigers fell 
 Shrink at the noise ; deep in his gloomy den 
 The lion starts, and morsels yet unchewed 
 Drop from his trembling jaws. Now, all at once, 
 Onward they march embattled, to the sound 
 Of martial harmony ; fifes, cornets, drums, 
 That rouse the sleepy soul to arms, and bold 
 Heroic deeds. In parties here and there 
 Detached o'er hill and dale, the hunters range 
 Inquisitive ; strong dogs, that match in fight 
 The boldest brute, around their masters wait, 
 A faithful guard. No haunt unsearched, they drive 
 From every covert, and from every den. 
 The lurking savages. Incessant shouts 
 Reecho through the woods, o!nd kindling fires 
 Gleam from the mountain tops ; the forest seems 
 One mingling blaze ; like flocks of sheep they fly 
 Before the flaming brand ; fierce lions, pards, 
 Boars, tigers, bears, and wolves, a dreadful crew 
 Of grim, bloodthirsty foes ! Growling along 
 They stalk indignant, but fierce vengeance still 
 Hangs pealing on their rear, and pointed spears 
 Present immediate death. Soon as the night. 
 Wrapped in her sable veil, forbids the chase, 
 They pitch their tents in even ranks around 
 The circling camp. The guards are placed, and fires 
 At proper distances ascending rise. 
 And paint the horizon with their ruddy light. 
 So round some island's shore of large extent, 
 Amid the gloomy horrors of the night, 
 The billows, breaking on the pointed rocks, 
 Seem all one flame, and the bright circuit wide 
 Appears a bulwark of surrounding fire. 
 What dreadful bowlings and what hideous roar 
 Disturb those peaceful shades ! where erst the bird 
 That glads the night hiwi cheered the listening groves 
 With sweet complainings. Through the silent gloom 
 Oft they the guards assail ; as oft repelled. 
 They fly reluctant, with hot, boiling rage 
 Stung to the quick, and mad with wild despair. 
 Thus, day by day, they still the chase renew, 
 At night encamp ; till now in straiter bounds 
 The circle lessens, and the beasts perceive 
 The wall that hems them in on every side. 
 And now their fury bursts, and knows no mean ; 
 From man they turn, and point their ill-judged rage 
 Against their fellow-brutes. With teeth and claws 
 The civil war begins ; grappling they tear ; 
 Lions on tigers prey, and bears on wolves ; 
 Horrible discord ! till the crowd behind 
 Shouting pursue, and part the bloody fray. 
 At once their wrath subsides ; tame as the lamb 
 
 The lion hangs his head ; the furious pard. 
 Cowed and subdued, flies from the face of man 
 Nor bears one glance of his commanding eye : 
 So abject is a tyrant in distress. 
 
 At last, within the narrow plain confined, 
 A listed field, marked out for bloody deeds, 
 An amphitheatre more glorious far 
 Than ancient Rome could boast, they crowd in heaps. 
 Dismayed and quite appalled. In meet array. 
 Sheathed in refulgent arms, a noble band 
 Advance ; great lords of high, imperial blood, 
 Early resolved to assert the royal race. 
 And prove by glorious deeds their valor's growth 
 Mature, ere yet the callow down has spread 
 Its curling shade. On bold Arabian steeds. 
 With decent pride, they sit, that fearless hear 
 The lion's dreadful roar : and down the rock 
 Swift-shooting plunge, or o'er the mountain's ridge 
 Stretching along, the greedy tiger leave 
 Panting behind. On foot their faithful slaves. 
 With javelins armed, attend ; each watchful eye 
 Fixed on his youthful care, for him alone 
 He fears ; and, to redeem bis life, unmoved 
 Would lose his own. The mighty Aurengzebe 
 From his high-elevated throne beholds 
 His blooming race, revolving in his mind 
 AVhat once he was, in his gay spring of life, 
 When vigor strung his nerves. Parental joy 
 Melts in his eyes, and flushes in his cheeks. 
 Now the loud trumpet sounds a charge. The shouts 
 Of eager hosts through all the circling line. 
 And the wild howling of the beasts within. 
 Rend the [blue] welkin ; flights of arrows, winged 
 AVith death, and javelins launched from every arm, 
 Gall sore the brutal bands, with many a wound 
 Gored through and through. Despair at last prevails, 
 When fainting nature shrinks, and rouses all 
 Their drooping courage. Swelled with furious rage, 
 Their eyes dart fire, and on the youthful band 
 They rush implacable. They their broad shields 
 Quick interpose ; on each devoted head 
 ThL'ir flaming falchions, as the bolts of Jove, 
 ].)L'si.cnd unerring. Prostrate on the ground 
 The grinning monsters lie, and their foul gore 
 Defiles the vonhmt ]^]a\r^. Nor idle stand 
 The trusty ^l;i\i - : wlih ]i(.iiitt.'d spears they pierce 
 Through thru imii-1i hi'li-, i>r;it their gaping mouths 
 An easier ii:i-;i-r find. 'J'lu- king of brutes 
 In broken roarings breathes his last ; the bear 
 Grumbles in death ; nor can his spotted skin, 
 Though sleek it shine, with varied beauties gay, 
 Save the proud pard from unrelenting fate. 
 The battle bleeds : grim slaughter strides along, 
 Glutting her greedy jaws, grins o'er her prey — 
 Men, horses, dogs, fierce beasts of every kind, 
 A strange promiscuous carnage, drenched in blood, 
 And heaps on heaps amassed. What yet remain 
 Alive, with vain assault contend to break 
 
ADTUMN — OCTOBER. 
 
 853 
 
 The imponetrablo line. Others, whom fear 
 Inspires, with solf-prcserving wiles, beneath 
 The bodies of the slain for shelter creep. 
 Aghast they fly, or hide their heads dispersed. 
 
 And now, perchance (had Heaven but pleased), 
 tlic work 
 Of death had been complete, and Aurengzebo 
 By one droa*l frown extinguished half their race ; 
 When, lo ! the bright sultanas of his court 
 Appear, and to his ravished eyes display 
 Those cliarios but rarely to the day revealed. 
 
 Lowly thoy bcnil, and humbly sue to save 
 The vanquished host. What mortal can deny 
 When suppliant Beauty begs ? At his command. 
 Opening to right and left, the well-trained troops 
 Leave a largo void for the retreating foes : 
 Away tti- V Ily. ■'[! wiriu'^ of fear upborne. 
 To si'.U ■ n ili-iiiii lull- ilicir late abodes. 
 
 Yu I'l-. Ill 1 p] 1. — r- ' whoso vain hearts exult 
 In warit'iniH-- <■[' p^'wrr. — against the brutal race, 
 Fierce robbers like yourselves, a guiltless war 
 Wage uncontrolled ; here quench your thirst of 
 
 blood ; 
 But learn from Aurengzebe to spare i 
 
 UllADS IMPOSED UPON WALKS J WOI 
 
 In Albion's isle when glorious Edgar reigned. 
 He, wisely provident, from her white cliffs 
 Launched half her foresU, and with numerous fleets 
 Covered his wide domain ; there proudly rode 
 Lord of the deep, the great prerogative 
 Of British monarchs : each invader bold, 
 Dane and Norwegian, at a distance gazed. 
 And, disappointed, gnashed his teeth in vain. 
 Ho scoured his seas, and to remotest shores 
 With swelling sails the trembling corsair fled. 
 Rich commerce flourished, and with busy oars 
 Dashed the resounding surge. Nor less at land 
 His royal cares ; wise, potent, gracious prince ! 
 His subjects from their cruel foes he saved, 
 And from rapacious savages their flocks. 
 Cambria's proud kings (though with reluctance) paid 
 Their tributary wolves, head after head. 
 In full account ; till the woods yield no more, 
 And all the ravenous race extinct is lost. 
 In fertile pastures more securely grazed 
 The social troops, and soon their large increase 
 With curling fleeces whitened all the plains. 
 
 But yet, alas ! the wily fox remained, 
 A subtle, pilfering foe, prowling around 
 In midnight shades, and wakeful to destroy. 
 In the full fold the poor defenceless lamb. 
 Seized by his guileful arts, with sweet, warm blood 
 Supplies a rich repast. The mournful ewe. 
 Her dearest treasure lost, through the dun night 
 Wanders perplexed, and darkling bleats in vain ; 
 While in the adjacent bush poor Philomel 
 (Herself a parent once, till wanton churls 
 
 45 
 
 Despoiled her nest) joins in her loud laments 
 With sweeter notes and more melodious woo. 
 
 For these nocturnal thieves, huntsman, prepare 
 Thy sharpest vengeance. ! how glorious 't is 
 To right the oppressed, and bring the felon vile 
 To just disgrace ! Ere yet the morning peep, 
 Or stors retire from the first blush of day. 
 With thy far-echoing voice alarm thy poek. 
 And rouse thy bold compeers : then to the copse, 
 Thick with entangling grass or prickly furze, 
 With silence lead thy many-colored hounds. 
 In all their beauty's pride. See ! how they range, 
 Dispersed, how busily this way and that 
 They cross, examining with curious nose 
 Each likely haunt. Hark ! on the drag I hoar 
 Their doubtful notes, preluding to a cry 
 More nobly full, and swelled with every mouth. 
 As straggling armies at the trumpet's voice 
 Press to their standard, hither all repair, 
 And hurry through the woods with hasty step. 
 Rustling and full of hope ; now driven on heaps. 
 They push, they strive ; while from his kennel sneaks 
 The conscious villain. See ! he skulks along 
 Sleek at the shepherd's cost, and plump with meals 
 Purloined : so thrive the wicked here below. 
 Though high his brush he bears, though tipped with 
 It gayly shine, yc-t cru th.- sun .h-L-liiu'd [white 
 
 
 I strains ! how beat ( 
 
 Heave 
 
 Big with tumultuous joy ; the loaded gales 
 
 Breathe harmony ; and as the tempest drives 
 
 From wood to wood, through every dark recess. 
 
 The forest thunders, and the mountains shake. 
 
 The chorus swells ; less various and less sweet 
 
 The thrilling notes, when in those very groves 
 
 The feathered choristers salute the Spring, 
 
 And every bush in concert joins ; or when 
 
 The master's hand, in modulated air, 
 
 Bids the loud organ breathe, and all the powers 
 
 Of music in one instrument combine. 
 
 An universal minstrelsy. And now 
 
 In vain each earth he tries ; the doors are barred 
 
 Impregnable ; nor is the covert safe : 
 
 He pants for purer air. Hark ! what loud shouts 
 
 Reecho through the groves? he breaks away ; 
 
 Shrill horns proclaim his flight. Each straggling 
 
 hound 
 Strains o'er the lawn to reach the distant pack. 
 'T is triumph all and joy. Now, my brave youths ! 
 Now give a loose to the clean, generous steed. 
 Flourish the whip, nor spare the galling spur ; 
 But in the madness of delight forget 
 Your fears. Far o'er the rocky hills we range. 
 And dangerous our course ; but in the brave 
 True courage never fails. In vain the streams 
 In foaming eddies whirl ; in vain the ditch. 
 Wide-gaping, threatens death. The craggy steep, 
 
354 
 
 RURAL POETRY. SOMERVILLE. 
 
 Where the poor dizzy shepherd crawls with care, 
 And clings to every twig, gives us no pain, 
 But down we sweep, as stoops the falcon bold 
 To pounce his prey : then up the opponent hill. 
 By the swift motion flung, wo mount aloft. 
 So ships, in winter seas, now sliding sink 
 Adown the steepy wave ; then, tossed on high, 
 Ride on the billows, and defy the storm. 
 
 What lengths we pasa ! where will the wandering 
 chase 
 Lead us bewildered ! Smooth as swallows skim 
 The new-shorn mead, and far more swift, we fly. 
 See my brave pack ! how to the head they press. 
 Jostling in close array, then more diffuse 
 Obliquely wheel ; while from their opening mouths 
 The volleyed thunder breaks. So when the cranes 
 Their annual voyage steer, with wanton wing 
 Their figure oft they change, and their loud clang 
 From cloud to cloud rebounds. How far behind 
 The hunter crew, wide straggling o'er the plain ! 
 The panting courser now with trembling nerves 
 Begins to reel ; urged by the goring spur. 
 Makes many a faint effort ; he snorts, he foams ; 
 The big round drops run trickling down his sides. 
 With sweat and blood distained. Look back and 
 The strange confusion of the vale below, [view 
 
 ^Vhe're sore vexation reigns ; see yon poor jade ; 
 In vain the impatient rider frets and swears. 
 And galling spurs harrow his mangled sides ; 
 He can no more ; his stiff, unpliant limbs 
 Rooted in earth, unmoved and fixed he stands ; 
 For every cruel curse returns a groan, 
 And sobs, and faints, and dies ! Who without grief 
 Can view that pampered steed, his master's joy. 
 His minion, and his daily care, well clothed. 
 Well fed with every nicer care ; no cost. 
 No labor spared ; who, when the flying chase 
 Broke from the copse, without a rival led 
 The numerous train ; now a sad spectacle 
 Of pride brought low, and humbled insolence, 
 Drove lilce a panniered ass, and scourged along ! 
 While these, with loosened reins and dangling heels, 
 Hang on their reeling palfreys, that seaixe bear 
 Their weights ; another in the treacherous bog 
 Lies floundering, half ingulfed. What biting 
 
 thoughts 
 Torment the abandoned crew ! Old age laments 
 His vigor spent ; the tall, plump, brawny youth 
 Curses his cumbrous bulk, and envies now 
 The short, pygmean race he whilome kenned | 
 
 With proud, insulting leer. A chosen few 
 Alone the sport enjoy, nor droop beneath 
 Their pleasing toils. 
 
 DEVOORED. — THE FAHMER'S CONOHATDLATORV TREAT. 
 
 Here, huntsman ! from this height 
 Observe yon birds of prey : if I can judge, 
 'T is there the villain lurks ; they hover round. 
 
 And claim him as their own. Was I not right ? 
 See ! there he creeps along ; his brush he drags. 
 And sweeps the mire impure ; from his wide jaws 
 His tongue unmoiatenQd hangs ; symptoms too sure 
 Of sudden death. Ha ' ytt he flies, nor yields 
 To black d. .| ilr. Tmi . m l,„,so more, and all 
 His wik'.-^ ;ii. .1 II : ' i h rough yon village now 
 Theratlliii- ,..i The barns, the cots, 
 
 And leallcs- ,li,,^, ,, r,,, , ,:,, j,,y„us sounds. 
 Through every hoim,.|:iJL :iii<l ilir.niL'h every yard. 
 His midnight walks, |.:iiii mr, |mi|„m,, Ik- flics ; 
 Through every hole lir -nrak^ fhi.,i,;4h every jakes 
 Plunging, he wades besiiicarod, and fondly hopes 
 In a superior stench to lose his own ; 
 But, faithful to the track, the unerring hounds 
 With peals of echoing vengeance close purBue. 
 
 And now distressed, no sheltering covert near, 
 [To] the henroost [he] creeps, whose walls, with gore 
 Distained, attest his guilt. There, villain ! there 
 Expect thy fate deserved. And soon from thence 
 The pack, inquisitive, with clamor loud, 
 Drag out their trembling prize, and on his blood 
 With greedy transport feast. In bolder notes 
 Each sounding horn proclaims the felon dead, 
 And all the assembled \iIhigo shouts for joy. 
 
 The farmer, who beholds his mortal foe 
 Stretched at his feet, applauds the glorious deed, 
 And, grateful, calls us to a short repast ; 
 In the full glass the liquid amber smiles. 
 Our native product ; and his good old mate 
 With choicest viands heaps the liberal board. 
 To crown our triumphs, and reward our toils. * * * 
 
 THE OTTER-HUNT. — HABITS OF THE OTTER. 
 
 One labor yet remains, celestial maid ! 
 Another element demands thy song. 
 No more o'er craggy steeps, through coverts thick 
 With pointed thorn and briers intricate, 
 Urge on with horn and voice the painful pack. 
 But skim with wanton wing the irriguous vale. 
 Where winding streams amid the flowery meads 
 Perpetual glide along, and undermine 
 The caverned banks, by the tenacious roots 
 Of hoary willows arched, gloomy retreat 
 Of the bright scaly kind, where they at will 
 On the green watery reed, their pasture, graze ; 
 Suck the moist soil, or .■'lumber at their ease. 
 Rocked by {]„■ r. -tlr . I,in,,k that draws aslope 
 Its humid ti.Mii, :,h.| hiir. I Inii- dark abodes. 
 
 Where ni-r. :i,,i ,,|,,,|, ' whore, alas ! 
 
 Is innoceni-i' ^. >■ ' i;:,|,i,„' and spoil 
 
 Haunt e'en the lowest deeps; seas have their sharks, 
 Rivers and ponds enclose the ravenous pike ; 
 He in his turn becomes a prey, on him 
 The amphibious otter feasts. Just is his fate 
 Deserved : but tyrants know no bounds; nor spears, 
 That bristle on his back, defend the perch 
 From his wide, greedy jaws ; nor burnished mail 
 The yellow carp ; nor all his arts can save 
 The insinuating eel, that hides bis head 
 Beneath the slimy mud ; nor yet escapes 
 
AUTUMN — OCTOBER. 
 
 355 
 
 Tho crimson-spotted trout, the river's prido, 
 I , And beauty of the stream. Without remorse 
 [j This miilnight pillager, raging around, 
 Insatiate, swallows all. The owner mourns 
 Tho unpeopled rivulet, and gladly hears 
 Tho huntsman's early call, and sees with joy 
 Tho iovial crew, that march upon its banks 
 In gay parade, with bearded lanoos anued. 
 
 This subtle spoiler, of tho beaver kind, 
 Far otr, perhaps, wiiere ancient alders shade 
 Tho deep, still pool, within some hollow trunk 
 Contrives his wicker couch, whence ho surveys 
 His long purlieu, lord of the stream, and all 
 Tho finny shoals his own. 
 
 But you, brave youths ! 
 Dispute tho felon's claim ; try every root, 
 And every reedy bank ; encourage all 
 The busy, spreading pack, that fearless plunge 
 Into the flood, and cross tho rapid stream. 
 Bid rocks and caves, and each resounding shore, 
 Proclaim your bold defiance ! Loudly raise 
 Each cheering voice, till distant hills repeat 
 The triumphs of tho vale. On the soft sand 
 Sec there his seal impressed ! ond on that bank 
 Behold tho glittering spoils, half-caten fish, 
 Scales, fins, and bones, the leavings of his feast ; 
 Ah ! on that yielding sag-bed, see, once more, 
 Jlis seal I view. O'er yon dank, rushy marsh 
 The sly, goose-footed prowler bends his course. 
 And seeks the distant shallows. Huntsman, bring 
 Thy eager pack, and trail him to his couch. 
 Hark ! the loud peal begins, the clamorous joy. 
 The gallant chiding, loads tho trembling air. 
 
 Ye naiads fair, who o'er these floods preside. 
 Raise up your dripping heads above the wave. 
 And hear our melody. The harmonious notes 
 Float with the stream ; and every winding creek 
 And hollow rock, that o'er the dimpling flood 
 Nods pendent, still improves from shore to shore 
 Our sweet, reiterated joys. What shouts ! 
 What clamor loud, what gay, heart-cheering sound. 
 Urge through the breathing brass their mazy way ! 
 Not choirs of Tritons glad with sprightlier strains, 
 Tho dancing billows, when proud Neptune rides 
 In triumph o'er the deep. IIow greedily 
 They snuff the fishy steam that to each blode 
 Bank-scenting clings ! See how the morning dews 
 They sweep, that from their feet besprinkling drop 
 Dispersed, and leave a track oblique behind. 
 Now on firm land they range ; then in the flood 
 They plunge tumultuous, or through reedy pools 
 Bustling they work their way ; no hole escapes 
 Their curious search, ^\'ith quick sensation now 
 The fuming vapor stings ; flutter their hearts. 
 And joy redoubled bursts from every mouth 
 In louder symphonies. Yon hollow trunk. 
 That with its hoary head incurved salutes 
 The passing wave, mast bo tho tyrant's fort. 
 And dread abode. 
 
 TUB OTTIII, PUT DOWS, 
 
 TO THE WAT>R ; ATTJtCKBD 
 
 How these impatient climb, 
 While Others at tho root incessant bay ! 
 They put him down. See there ho dives along ! 
 The nswiiding bubbles mark his gloomy way. 
 ijink fi\ the nets, and out off his retreat 
 III il. Iiillering deeps. Ah ! there he vents ! 
 Mm |. I L |. lunge headlong, and protended spears 
 
 -^I' II k'^truetion, while the troubled surge 
 
 Iiuligiiajit foams, and all the scaly kind, 
 Affrightc<I, hide their heads. Wild tumult reigns. 
 And luud uproar. Ah ! there once more ho vents ! 
 See ! that bold hound has seized him ; down they 
 Together lust ; but soon shall ho repent [sink. 
 
 His rash assault. See ! there escaped he flics 
 Half drowned, and clambers up the slippery bank. 
 With ooze and blood distaincd. Of all the brutes. 
 Whether by nature formed, or by long use, 
 This artful diver best can bear the want 
 
 I Of vital air. Unequal is the fight 
 I Ben 
 
 Beneath this whelming element. Yet there 
 Ho lives not long, but respiration needs 
 At proper intervals. Again he vents ; 
 Again the crowd attack. That spear has pierced 
 His neck, the crimson waves confess the wound. 
 Fixed is the bearded lance, unwelcome guest. 
 Where'er he flies ; with him it sinks beneath. 
 With him it mounts ; sure guide to every foe. 
 Inly he groans, nor can his tender wound 
 Bear the cold stream. Lo ! to yon sedgy bank 
 Ho creeps disconsolate : his numerous foes 
 Surround him, hounds and men. Pierced through 
 
 y lift him high in air ; 
 iiiid grins, and bites in vain. 
 II gayly-warbling strains, 
 late. He dies ! he dies ! * * 
 
 i OF niM WHO LIVES OCT-DOonS } 
 
 0, happy, if ye knew your happy state. 
 Ye rangers of the fields ! whom Nature boon 
 Cheers with her smiles, and every element 
 Conspires to bless. * • 
 
 Ye guardian powers, who make mankind your care. 
 Give me to know wise Nature's hidden depths. 
 Trace each mysterious cause, with judgment read 
 The expanded volume, and submiss adore 
 That groat creative Will, who ot a word 
 Spoke forth the wondrous scene. * * 
 
 [Or] this, at least. 
 Grant me propitiotis — an inglorious life, 
 Calm and serene, nor lost in false pursuits 
 Of wealth or honors ; but enough to raise 
 My drooping friends, preventing modest want 
 That dorcs not ask ; and if, to crown my joys. 
 Ye grant me health, that, ruddy in my cheeks, 
 Blooms in my life's decline ; fields, woods, and 
 Each towering hill, each humble vale below, [streams. 
 Shall hear my cheering voice : my hounds shall wako 
 The lazy morn, and glad the horizon round. 
 
liisiic 
 
 m 
 
 [ah for a)cio[)fr. 
 
 WIIITTIER'S " HPSKERS." 
 It was late in mild October, 
 
 And the long autumnal rain 
 Had left the summer harvest-ficlda 
 
 All green with grass again ; 
 The first sharp frosts had fallen, 
 
 Leaving all the woodlands gay 
 With the hues of Summer's rainbow, 
 
 Or the meadow-flowers of May. 
 Through a thin, dry mist, that morning, 
 
 The sun rose broad and red ; 
 At first a rayless disk of fire, 
 
 It brightened as it sped. 
 Yet even its noontide glory 
 
 Fell chastened and subdued 
 On the corn-fields, and the orchards, 
 
 And softly-pictured wood. 
 
 And all that quiet afternoon, 
 
 Slow sloping to the night, 
 
 It wove with golden shuttle 
 
 The haze with yellow light ; 
 Slanting through the painted beeches, 
 
 It glorified the hill, 
 And beneath it pond and meadow 
 
 Lay brighter, greener, still. 
 And shouting boys in woodland haunts 
 
 Caught glimpses of that sky. 
 Flecked by the many-tinted leaves. 
 And laughed they knew not why ; 
 And school-girls, gay with aster-flowers. 
 
 Beside the meadow-brooks. 
 Mingled the glow of Autumn with 
 
 The sunshine of sweet looks. 
 From spire and barn looked westerly 
 
 The patient weathercocks. 
 But even the birches on the hills 
 
 Stood motionless as rocks ; 
 No sound was in the woodlands, 
 
 Save the squirrel's dropping shell. 
 And the yellow leaves among the boughs. 
 
 Low rustling as they fell. 
 The summer grains were harvested ; 
 
 The stubble-fields lay dry. 
 Where June-winds rolled in light and shade 
 
 The pale green waves of rye ; 
 
 But, still, on gentle hill-slopes. 
 
 In valleys fringed with wood, 
 
 Ungathered, bleaching in the sun. 
 
 The heavy corn-crop stood. 
 
 Bent low by Autumn's wind and rain. 
 
 Through husks that dry and sere 
 Unfolded from their ripened charge, 
 
 Shone out the golden ear ; 
 Beneath, the turnip lay concealed 
 
 In many a verdant fold, 
 And glistened in the slanting light 
 
 The pumpkin's sphere of gold. 
 
 There wrought the busy harvesters, 
 
 And many a creaking wain 
 Bore slowly to the long barn-floor 
 
 Its load of husks and grain ; 
 Till, rayless as he rose that mom, 
 
 Sank down at last that sun, 
 Ending the day of dreamy light 
 
 And warmth as it begun. 
 
 And, lo < as through the western pines, 
 
 On meadow, stream, and pond, 
 Flamed the red radiance of the sky, 
 
 Set all afire beyond. 
 Slow o'er the eastern sea-blufis 
 
 A milder glory shone, 
 And the sunset and the moon-rise 
 
 Were mingled into one. 
 
 And thus into the quiet night 
 
 The sunset lapsed away, 
 And deeper in the brightening moon 
 
 The tranquil shadows lay ; 
 From many a brown old farm-house. 
 
 And hamlet without name. 
 Their milking and their home-tasks done. 
 
 The merry buskers came. 
 
 Swung o'er the heaped-up harvest. 
 
 From pitchforks in the mow, 
 Shone dimly down the lanterns 
 
 On the pleasant scene below ; 
 The growing pile of husks behind. 
 
 The golden ears before. 
 And laughing eyes and busy hands. 
 
 And brown cheeks glimmering o'er. 
 
 Half hidden in a quiet nook. 
 
 Serene of look and heart, 
 Talking their old times over, 
 
 The old men sat apart ; 
 While, up and <lown the unhusked pile, 
 
 Or nestling in its shade. 
 At hide-and-seek, with laugh and shout, 
 
 The happy children played. 
 
AUTUMN — OCTOBER. 
 
 357 
 
 Urged by tho good host's daughter, 
 
 A maiden young and fair, 
 Lifting to light her sweet blue eyes, 
 
 And pride of soft brown hair. 
 The mnstcr of the village-school, 
 
 Slci'k of hair and smooth of tongue, 
 To the quaint tune of some old psalm 
 
 A husking-ballad sung. 
 
 Heap high the farmer's wintry board ! 
 
 Heap high the Golden Corn ! 
 No richer gift has Autumn poured 
 
 From out her lavish horn. 
 Let other lands, exulting, glean 
 
 The apple from the pine. 
 The orange from its glossy green. 
 
 The cluster from the vine : — 
 We better love the hardy gift 
 
 Our rugged vales bestow, 
 To cheer us when tho storm shall drift 
 
 Our harvest-fields with snow. 
 When spring-time came with flower and bud, 
 
 And grasses green and young. 
 And merry bob'links, in tho wood. 
 
 Like mad musicians sung : 
 We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain. 
 
 Beneath the sun of May, 
 And frightened from our sprouting grain 
 
 The robber-crows away. 
 All through the long, bright days of June 
 
 Its leaves grew thin and fair. 
 And waved in hot mid-summer's noon 
 
 Its soft and yellow hair. 
 And now, with Autumn's moonlit eves. 
 
 Its harvest-time has come, 
 We pluck away the frosted leaves, 
 
 And bear the treasure home. 
 There, richer than tho fabled gift 
 
 Of golden showers of old. 
 Fair hands the broken grain shall sift. 
 
 And knead its meal of gold. 
 Let vapid idlers loll in silk 
 
 Around their costly board, — 
 Givo us the bowl of samp and milk 
 
 By homespun beauty poured. 
 AVherc'er the wide old kitchen hearth 
 
 Sends up its smoky curls. 
 Who will not thank the kindly earth. 
 
 And bless our corn-fed girls ! » * 
 Let earth withhold her goodly root. 
 
 Let raildiw blight the rye, 
 Give to the worm the orchard's fruit. 
 
 The wheat-field to the fly : 
 But, let the good old crop adorn 
 
 The hills our fathers trod ; 
 Still let us for His Golden Corn 
 
 Send up our thanks to God ! 
 
 HOOD'S "SEASON." 
 
 Sum 
 
 
 Fogs are falling down ; 
 And with ru.«8el tinges 
 
 Autumn 's doing brown. 
 Boughs are daily rifled 
 
 By the gusty thieves, 
 And the Book of Nature 
 
 Uetteth short of leaves. 
 Kound the tops of houses, 
 
 Swallows, as they flit, 
 Give, like yearly tenants, 
 
 Kotiecs to quit. 
 Skies, of fickle temper. 
 
 Weep by turns and laugh - 
 Night and Day together, 
 
 Taking half-and-half. 
 So September ondeth — 
 
 Cold, and most perverse — 
 But the month that follows 
 
 Sure will pinch us worse. 
 
 A BALLAD OF FLODDEN FIELD. 
 I 'te heard the lilting at our yowe-milking. 
 
 Lasses a-lilting before the dawn of day j 
 But now they arc moaning on ilka green loaning — 
 
 The Flowers of the Forest are a' wedo away. 
 
 At buchts,! in tho morning, nae blytho lads are 
 
 The lasses are lonely, and dowie, and wae ; 
 Nae daflin', nae gabbin', but sighing and sabbing. 
 
 Ilk ane lifts her leglen and hies her away. 
 In hairst, at the shearing, nae youths now are 
 jeering, 
 
 Tho bandsters are lyart, and runklcd, and gray ; 
 At fair, or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching — 
 
 The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away. 
 At e'en, at the gloaming, nao swankies are roaming 
 
 'Bout stacks wi' the lasses at bogles to play ; 
 But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie — 
 
 The Flowers of tho Forest are a' wede away. 
 Dule and wae for the order, sent our lads to tho 
 Border ! 
 
 The English, for ance, by guile wan the day ; 
 Tlic Flowers of the Forest, that foucbt aye the 
 foremost, 
 
 Tho prime o' our land, arc cauld in the clay. 
 
 We hear nae mair lilting at our yowe-milking. 
 Women and bairns are heartless and wae ; 
 
 Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning — 
 The Flowers of tho Forest are a' wede away. 
 1 For this and other Scotch arords, see pp. 18S, 336. 
 
|!sa(ms aulr Ijiimus for (Dctohr. 
 
 QUAKLES'S PSALM 42 : 1. 
 
 LONGING AFTER GOD. 
 
 How sliall my tongue expvoss that hallowed fire, 
 
 Wliich lieaven hath kindled in my ravished 
 heart ! 
 What muse shall I invoke, that will inspire 
 
 My lowly quill to act a lofty part ! 
 What art shall I devise to express desire, 
 
 Too intricate to be expressed by art ! 
 Let all the Nine be silent ; I refuse 
 Their aid in this high task, for they abuse 
 The flames of love too much : assist me, David's muse. 
 Not as the thirsty soil desires soft showers 
 
 To quicken and refresh her cmbryon grain ; 
 Nor as the drooping crests of fading flowers 
 
 Request the bounty of a morning rain. 
 Do I desire my God : these in few hours 
 
 Rewish what late their wishes did obtain ; 
 But as the swift-foot hart doth wounded fly 
 To the much-desired streams, even so do I 
 Pant after Thee, my God, whom I must find, or die! 
 Before a pack of deep-mouthed lusts I flee ; 
 
 0, they have singled out my panting heart. 
 And wanton Cupid, sitting in the tree, 
 
 Hath pierced my bosom with a flaming dart ; 
 My soul being spent, for refuge seeks to Thee, 
 
 But cannot find where Thou, my refuge, art : 
 Like as the swift-foot hart doth wounded fly 
 To the desired streams, e'en so do I 
 Pant after Thee, my God, whom I must find, or die! 
 
 JONES'S "AUTUMNAL HYMN." 
 
 Now we rest from our toils. Lord, our labors 
 
 ■e bared to the kiss of the sun ; 
 uwed the wheat, — well our toil it 
 
 And 1 
 
 have eaten the husks of the i 
 
 We gathered our harvests ; with strength in each 
 limb [to him ; 
 
 Toiled the mower ; the ripe grass bowed prostrate 
 And the reaper, as nimbly ho felled the proud grain. 
 Was blither than those who wear sceptres and reign. 
 
 And the wheat-blade ' 
 
 tall. 
 
 nd the full, golden 
 
 Proclaimed that the months of rejoicing i 
 
 The grape in rich clusters hung, promising mirth. 
 And the boughs of the apple-tree slept on the earth. 
 
 Did we thank thee, then, God of the seasons 1 0, no! 
 We were prompt in accepting thy favors, but slow 
 Were our lips to give thanks for the rich gifts, thy 
 hand [land. 
 
 Showered thick on the maize-littered vales of our 
 
 Thou hast rained on us manna. Lord, — yet we are 
 mute ; [fruit ; 
 
 Though summer 's all smiles, of thy love are the 
 Springs and autumns, as fair as the Orient boasts, 
 Dawn on us, — yet faint are our tongues. Lord of 
 Hosts ! 
 
 Now we raise our glad voices — in gratitude raise, 
 And we waft on the beams of the morning our 
 
 praise ; 
 We thank thee for golden grain gathered in shock, 
 And the milk of the kine, and the fleece of the flock. 
 
 And we thank thee for limbs moving light to the 
 
 For hearts beating high, though unwarmed of the 
 
 flask ; 
 Fill us. Lord, with just sense of thy bounty, and 
 
 give 
 Health to us, and to all in the land where we live. 
 
 YOUNG'S ' ' IMMORTALIT Y. ' ' 
 
 Nature, thy daughter, ever-changing birth 
 Of thee, the great Immutable, to man 
 Speaks wisdom ; is his oracle supreme ; 
 And he who most consults her is most wise. 
 Look nature through, 't is revolution all. 
 All change, no death. Day follows night, and night 
 The dying day ; stars rise, and set, and rise ; 
 Earth takes the example. See the Summer gay. 
 With her green chaplet, and ambrosial flowers. 
 Droops into pallid Autumn ; Winter gray, 
 Horrid with frost, and turbulent with storm, 
 Blows Autumn and his golden fruits away, 
 Then melts into the Spring ; soft Spring, with 
 
 breath 
 Favonian, from warm chambers of the south, 
 Recalls the first. All to reflourish fades. 
 As in a wheel all sinks to reasoend ; 
 Emblems of man, who passes, not expires. 
 
M©TI.MS1E.IR., 
 
 AUTUMN-NOVEMBEE. 
 
 (L oliijjrr's 
 
 lUtirnnfir 
 
 Hackseyed in business, wearied at that oar, 
 Which thousands, once fast chained to, quit no more, 
 But which, when life at ebb runs weak and low, 
 All wish, or scorn to wish, they could forego ; 
 The statesman, lawyer, merchant, man of trade, 
 Pants for the refuge of some rural shade, 
 Where, all his long anxieties forgot . 
 Amid the charms of a sequestered spot, 
 Or recollected only to gild o'er. 
 And add a smile to what wa^j sweet before. 
 Ho may possess the joys ho thinks he sees, 
 Lay his old ago upon the lap of ease. 
 Improve the remnant of his wasted span, 
 And, having lived a triflor, die a man. 
 
 ALI.S TO THE QOKT CorSTRT I.IFK. 
 
 Thus Consoionoe pleads her cause within th 
 breast. 
 Though long rebelled against, not yet suppressed. 
 And calls a creature formed for God alone. 
 For heaven's high purposes, and not his own ; 
 
 Calls him away from selfish ends and aims. 
 From what debilitates and what inflames. 
 From cities humming with a restless crowd. 
 Sordid as active, ignorant as loud. 
 Whose highest praise is that they live in vain. 
 The dupes of pleasure, or the slaves of gain. 
 Where works of man are clustered close around, 
 And works of Ood are hardly to be found, — 
 To regions where, in spite of sin and woe. 
 Traces of E<len arc still seen below. 
 Where mountain, river, forest, field, and grove, 
 Remind him of his Maker's power and love. 
 
 'Tis well if. looked for at so late a day. 
 In the last scene of such a senseless play, 
 True wisdom will attend his feeble call. 
 And grace his action ere the curtain fall. 
 Souls, that have long despised their heavenly birth, 
 Their wishes all impregnated with earth. 
 For throo-scoro years employed with ceaseless care 
 In oatehing smoke and feeding upon air, 
 Conversant only with the ways of men. 
 Rarely redeem the short remaining ten. 
 
360 
 
 RURAL POETRY. COWPER. 
 
 Inreterate habits choke th' unfruitful heart, 
 Their fibres penetrate its tenderest part, 
 And, draining its nutritious powers to feed 
 Their noxious growth, starve every better seed. 
 
 WORKS A PEOPBR THSME 
 
 MEDITATIONS ( 
 
 Happy, if full of days — but happier far, 
 If, ere we yet discern life's evening star. 
 Sick of the service of a world, that feeds 
 Its patient drudges with dry chaff and weeds. 
 We can escape from custom's idiot sway. 
 To serve the Sovereign we were born t' obey. 
 Then sweet to muse upon his skill displayed 
 (Infinite skill) in all that He has made ! 
 
 To trace in Nature's most minute design 
 The signature and stamp of power divine. 
 Contrivance intricate, expressed with ease, 
 Where unassisted sight no beauty s^es. 
 The shapely limb and lubricated joint. 
 Within the small dimensions of a point. 
 Muscle and nerve miraculously spun. 
 His mighty work, who speaks, and it is done, 
 Th' invisible in things scarce seen revealed, 
 To whom an atom is an ample field ; 
 To wonder at a thousand insect forms. 
 These hatched, and those resuscitated worms, 
 New life ordained and brighter scenes to share, 
 Once prone on earth, now buoyant upon air, [size. 
 Whose shape would make them, had they bulk and 
 More hideous foes than fancy can devise ; 
 With helmet-heads and dragon-scales adorned. 
 The mighty myriads, now securely scorned. 
 Would mock the majesty of man's high birth. 
 Despise his bulwarks, and unpeople earth. 
 
 GRANDEUR or THE CONTEMPLATION OF NATURE. 
 
 Then with a glance of fancy to survey, 
 Far as the faculty can stretch away, 
 Ten thousand rivers poured at his command 
 From urns, that never fail, through every land ; 
 These like a deluge with impetuous force. 
 Those winding modestly a silent course ; 
 The cloud-surmounting Alps, the fruitful vales ; 
 Seas, on which every nation spreads her sails ; 
 The sun, a world whence other worlds drink light. 
 The crescent moon, the diadem of night ; 
 Stars countless, each in his appointed place. 
 Fast anchored in the deep abyss of space — 
 At such a sight to catch the poet's flame. 
 And with a rapture like his own exclaim. 
 These are thy glorious works, thou Source of Good, 
 How dimly seen, how faintly understood ! 
 Thine, and upheld by thy paternal care. 
 This universal frame, thus wondrous fair ; 
 Thy power divine, and bounty beyond thought, 
 Adored and praised in all that Thou hast wrought. 
 Absorbed in that immensity I see, 
 I shrink abased, and yet aspire to Thee ; 
 
 Instruct me, guide me to that heavenly day 
 Thy words more clearly than thy works display : 
 That, while thy truths my grosser thoughts refine, 
 I may resemble Tlfee, and call Thee mine. 
 
 THE HEAVENLY WaSDOM IN LIVING. 
 
 blest proficiency ! surpassing all 
 That men erroneously their glory call, 
 The recompense that arts or arms can yield. 
 The bar, the senate, or the tented field. 
 Compared with this sublimest life below. 
 Ye kings and rulers, what have courts to show ? 
 Thus studied, used and consecrated thus, 
 On earth what is, seemed formed indeed for us : 
 Not a« the plaything of a froward child. 
 Fretful unless diverted and beguiled. 
 Much less to feed and fan the fatal fires 
 Of pride, ambition, or impure desires, 
 But as a scale, by which the soul ascends 
 From mighty means to more important ends, 
 Securely, though by steps but rarely trod. 
 Mounts from inferior beings up to God, 
 And sees, by no fallacious light or dim. 
 Earth made for man, and man himself for Him. 
 
 Not that I mean t' approve, or would enforce, 
 A superstitious and monastic course : 
 Truth is not local, God alike pervades 
 And fills the world of trafiio and the shades. 
 And may be feared amidst the busiest scenes. 
 Or scorned where business never intervenes. 
 But 't is not easy, with a mind like ours. 
 Conscious of weakness in its noblest powers. 
 And in a world where, other ills apart, 
 The roving eye misleads the careless heart. 
 To limit thought, by nature prone to stray 
 Wherever freakish fancy points the way ; 
 To bid the pleadings of self-love be still. 
 Resign our own and seek our Maker's will ; 
 To spread the page of Scripture, and compare 
 Our conduct with the laws engraven there ; 
 To measure all that passes in the breast. 
 Faithfully, fairly, by that sacred test ; 
 To dive into the secret deeps within. 
 To spare no passion and no favorite sin, 
 And search the themes, important above all, 
 Ourselves and our recovery from our fall. 
 But leisure, silence, and a mind released 
 From anxious thoughts how wealth may be in- 
 How to secure, in some propitious hour, [creased. 
 The point of interest, or the post of power, 
 A soul serene, and equally retired 
 From objects too much dreaded or desired, 
 Safe from the clamors of perverse dispute, — 
 At least are friendly to the great pursuit. 
 
 THE ISLAND OF LIFE ON THE OCEAN OK ETERNITY. — THE 
 SAINTED DEAD. 
 
 Opening the map of God's extensive plan, 
 We find a little isle, this life of man ; 
 
Eternity's unknown expanse uppcara, 
 Circling around and limiting his years. 
 The busy race examine, and explore 
 Eiich ercck and cavern of the dangerous shore, 
 With care collect what in their eyes excels, 
 Some shining pebbles, and some weeds and shelbs ; 
 Thus laden, dream that they are rich and great. 
 And happiest he that groans beneath his weight. 
 The waves o'ertako them in their serious play, 
 And every hour sweeps multitudes away ; 
 They shriek and sink, survivors start and weep, 
 Pursue their sport, and follow to the deep. 
 A few forsake the throng ; with lifted eyes 
 Ask wealth of Ueaven, and gain a real prize. 
 Truth, wisdom, grace, and peace like that above, 
 Sealed with His signet whom they serve and love ; 
 Scorned by the rest, with patient hope they wait 
 A kind release from their imperfect state, 
 And unregretted are soon snatched away 
 From scenes of sorrow into glorious day. 
 
 Still, as I touch the lyre, do thou expand 
 ' Thy genuine charms, and guide an artless hand. 
 That I way catch a fire but rarely known, 
 Give useful light, though I should miss renown. 
 And, ]H>ring on thy page, whose every lino 
 Bears proof of an intelligence divine. 
 May feel a heart enriched by what it pays. 
 That builds its glory on its Maker's praise. 
 Woe to the man, whose wit disclaims its use, 
 Glittering in vain or only to seduce. 
 Who studies nature with a wanton eye. 
 Admires the work, but slips the lesson by ; 
 His hours of leisure and recess employs 
 In drawing pictures of forbidden joys, 
 Retires to blazon his own worthless name, 
 Or shoot the careless with a surer aim. 
 
 Nor these alone prefer a life recluse. 
 Who seek retirement for its proper use ; 
 The love of change, that lives in every breast, 
 (.fcnius, and temper, and desire of rest, 
 Discordant motives in one centre meet. 
 And each inclines its votary to retreat. 
 Some minds by nature arc averse to noise, 
 And hate the tumult half the world enjoys. 
 The lure of avarice, or the pompous prize. 
 That courts display before ambitious eyes ; 
 The fruits that hang on pleasure's 6owery stem, 
 Whate'er enchants them, are no snares to them. 
 To them the deep recess of dusky groves, 
 Or forest, where the deer securely roves. 
 The fall of waters, and the song of birds. 
 And hills that echo to the distant herds. 
 Are luxuries excelling all the glare 
 The world can boast, and her chief favorites share. 
 
 THE POET SEEKS RBTIBEMEST } NATCRK'S PICTURES FOR mM, 
 
 With eager step, and carelessly arrayed. 
 For such a cause the poet seeks the shade. 
 From all he sees ho catches new delight. 
 Pleased fancy claps her pinions at the sight ; 
 The rising or the setting orb of day. 
 The clouds that flit, or slowly float away, 
 Nature in all the various shapes she wears. 
 Frowning in storms, or breathing gentle airs ; 
 The snowy robe her wintry state assumes. 
 Her summer heats, her fruits, and her perfumes ; 
 All, all alike transport the glowing bard. 
 Success in rhyme his glory and reward. 
 
 NiTlRE INVOKED TO INSPIRE TUB POET. 
 
 Nature ! whoso elysian scenes disclose 
 His bright perfections at whoso word they 
 Next to that Power who formed thee and 
 Be thou the great inspirer of my strains. 
 
 The lover too shuns 1 
 Tender idolater of obsent charms. 
 Saints offer nothing in their warmest prayers, 
 That he devotes not with a zeal like theirs ; 
 'T is consecration of his heart, soul, time. 
 And every thought that wanders is a crime. 
 In sighs ho worships his supremely fair. 
 And weeps a sad libation in despair ; 
 Adores a creature, and, devout in vain. 
 Wins in return an answer of disdain. 
 
 As woodbine weds the plant within her reach. 
 Rough elm, or smooth-grained ash, or glossy beech. 
 In spiral rings ascends the trunk, and lays 
 Her golden tassels on the leafy sprays. 
 But does a mischief while she lends a grace. 
 Straitening its growth by suca a strict embrace. 
 So love, that clings around the noblest minds. 
 Forbids the advancement of the soul he binds ; 
 The suitor's air indeed ho soon improves. 
 And forms it to the taste of her he loves. 
 Teaches his eye a language, and no less 
 Refines his speech, and fashions his address ; 
 But farewell promises of happier fruits. 
 Manly designs, and learning's grave pursuits ; 
 Qirt with a chain he cannot wish to break. 
 His only bliss is sorrow for her sake ; 
 Who will may pant for glory and excel, — 
 Her smile his aim, all higher aims farewell ! 
 Thyrsis, Alexis, or whatever name 
 May least offend against so pure a flame, 
 Though sage advice of friends the must sincere 
 Sounds harshly in so delicate an ear. 
 And lovers, of all creatures, tame or wild, 
 Can least brook management, however mihl ; 
 Yet let a poet (poetry disarms 
 The fiercest animals with magic charms) 
 Risk an intrusion on thy pensive mood. 
 And woo and win thee to thy proper good. 
 
 46 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Pastoral images and still retreats, 
 Umbrageous walks and solitary seats, 
 Sweet birds in concert with harmonious streams. 
 Soft airs, nocturnal vigils, and day-dreams, 
 Are all enchantments in a case like thine, 
 Conspire against thy peace with one design, 
 Soothe thee to make thee but a surer prey. 
 And feed the fire that wastes thy powers away. 
 Up — God has formed thee with a wiser view, 
 Not to be led in chains, but to subdue ; 
 Calls thee to cope with enemies, and first 
 Points out a conflict with thyself, the worst. 
 
 WOMAN, HER TRUE POSITION J TO BE BELOVED, NOT ADO 
 
 Woman, indeed, a gift He would bestow 
 AVhen He designed a paradise below, 
 The richest earthly boon his hands afford, 
 Deserves to be beloved, but not adored. 
 Post away swiftly to more active scenes, 
 Collect the scattered truths that study gleans. 
 Mis with the world, but with its wiser part, 
 No longer give an image all thine heart ; 
 Its empire is not hers, nor is it thine, — 
 'T is God's just claim, prerogative divine. 
 
 Virtuous and faithful Heberden ! whose skill 
 Attempts no task it cannot well fulfil, 
 Gives melancholy up to Nature's care, 
 And sends the patient into purer air. 
 Look where he comes — in this embowered alcove 
 Stand close concealed, and see a statue move : 
 Lips busy, and eyes fixed, foot falling slow. 
 Arms hanging idly down, hands clasped below, 
 Interpret to the marking eye distress. 
 Such as its symptoms can alone express. 
 That tongue is silent now ; that silent tongue 
 Could argue once, could jest or join the song. 
 Could give advice, could censure or commend, 
 Or charm the sorrows of a drooping friend. 
 Renounced alike its office and its sport, 
 Its brisker and its graver strains fall short ; 
 Both fail beneath a fever's secret sway, 
 And like a summer-brook are past away. 
 This is a sight for pity to peruse. 
 Till she resemble faintly what she views, 
 Till sympathy contract a kindred pain. 
 Pierced with the woes that she laments in vain. 
 This, of all maladies that man infest. 
 Claims most compassion, and receives the least : 
 Job felt it, when he groaned beneath the rod 
 And the barbed arrows of a frowning God ; 
 And such emollients as his friends could spare 
 Friends such as his for modern Jobs prepare. 
 
 Blessed, rather cursed, with hearts that ne 
 feel, 
 Kept snug in caskets of close-hammered steel. 
 
 With mouths made only to grin wide and eat, 
 
 And minds that deem derided pain a treat. 
 
 With limbs of British oak, and nerves of wire. 
 
 And wit that puppet-prcfmpters might inspire. 
 
 Their sovereign nostrum is a clumsy joke 
 
 On pangs enforced with God's severest stroke. 
 
 But, with a soul that ever felt the sting 
 
 Of sorrow, sorrow is a sacred thing : 
 
 Not to molest, or irritate, or raise 
 
 A laugh at his expense, is slender praise ; 
 
 He that has not usurped the name of man 
 
 Does all, and deems too little all, he can, 
 
 T' assuage the throbbings of the festered part. 
 
 And staunch the bleedings of a broken heart. 
 
 'T is not, as heads that never ache suppose, 
 
 Forgery of fancy, and a dream of woes ; 
 
 Man is a harp, whose chords elude the sight. 
 
 Each yielding harmony disposed aright ; 
 
 The screws reversed (a task which, if He please, 
 
 God in a moment executes with ease). 
 
 Ten thousand thousand strings at once go loose, 
 
 Lost, till He tunes them, all their power and use. 
 
 Then neither heathy wilds, nor scenes as fair 
 As ever recompensed the peasant's care. 
 Nor soft declivities with tufted hills. 
 Nor view of waters turning busy mills. 
 Parks in which Art preceptress Nature weds, 
 Nor gardens interspersed with flowery beds, 
 Nor gales, that catch the scent of blooming groves 
 And waft it to the mourner as he roves, 
 Can call up life into his faded oye. 
 That passes all he sees unheeded by ; 
 No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels. 
 No cure for such, till God, who makes them, heals 
 And thou, sad sufierer under nameless ill. 
 That yields not to the touch of human skill, 
 Improve the kind occasion, understand 
 A Father's frown, and kiss his chastening hand. 
 
 PEACE MADE WITH GOD CHANGES THE WHOLE ASPECT C 
 
 To thee the dayspring and the blaze of noon. 
 The purple evening and resplendent moon. 
 The stars, that, sprinkled o'er the vault of night, 
 Seem drops descending in a shower of light, 
 Shine not, or undesired and hated shine. 
 Seen through the medium of a cloud like thine : 
 Yet seek Him, — in his favor life is found. 
 All bliss beside, a shadow or a sound : 
 Then heaven, eclipsed so long, and this dull earth. 
 Shall seem to start into a second birth ; 
 Nature, assuming a more lovely face, 
 Borrowing a beauty from the works of Grace, 
 Shall be despised and overlooked no more. 
 Shall fill thee with delight unfelt before. 
 Impart to things inanimate a voice, 
 And bid her mountains and her hills rejoice ; 
 The sound shall run along the winding vales, 
 And thou enjoy an Eden ere it fails. 
 
AUTUMN — NOVEMBER. 
 
 863 
 
 TUK DI3APP0ISTBD STATKSMAN 8KKKS RKTIRBMBNT. 
 
 Te groves (the statesman at his desk exclaims, 
 Sick of a thousond disappointed aims), 
 My patrimonial treasure and my pride, 
 Beneath your shades your gray possessor hide. 
 Receive me languishing for that repose 
 The servant of the public never knows. 
 Ye saw mo once (ah, those regretted days, 
 When boyish innooonco was all my praiso !) 
 Hour after hour delightfully allot 
 To studies then familiar, since forgot. 
 And cultivate a taste for ancient song. 
 Catching its ardor as I mused along ; 
 Nor seldom, as propitious Heaven might send. 
 What once I valued and could boast, a friend. 
 Were witnesses how cordially I pressed 
 His undissembling virtue to my breast ; 
 Receive me now, not incorrupt as then, 
 Nor Tiiilili'SM ut' ciirrupting other men, 
 But v.v-rl 111 ml-, tliii. while they seem to stay 
 A fulliii^ < -III"", li'-'"" its decay. 
 Tothi- iiir liini II .1 my [lative home. 
 The wreek of whiit 1 was, fatigued I come ; 
 For once I can approve the patriot's voice, 
 And make the course he recommends my choice : 
 We meet at last in one sincere desire, 
 Uis wish and mine both prompt me to retire. 
 'T is done — he steps into the welcome chaise. 
 Lolls at his ease behind four handsome bays. 
 That whirl away from business and debate 
 The disencumbered Atlas of the state. 
 
 Tire SHBPHEBD-BOV. — FUEEDOM — *S IT APPEARS TO HIM 
 AND TO THE STATE URCTGE. 
 
 Ask not the boy, who, when the breeze of morn 
 First shakes the glittering drops from every thorn, 
 Unfolds his flock, then under bank or bush 
 Sits linking cherry-stones, or platting rush. 
 How fair is freedom ? — he was always free : 
 To carve his rustic name upon a tree. 
 To snare the mole, or with ill-fashioned hook 
 To draw th' incautious minnow from the brook, 
 Are life's prime pleasures in his simple view. 
 His flock the chief concern ho ever knew ; 
 She shines but little in his heedless eyes, 
 The good we never miss we rarely prize : 
 But ask the noble drudge in state affairs. 
 Escaped from oflice and its constant cares, 
 What charms ho sees in freedom's smile expressed, 
 In freedom lost so long, now repossessed ; 
 The tongue, whose strains were cogent as commands. 
 Revered at homo, and felt in foreign lands. 
 Shall own itself a stammerer in that cause. 
 Or plead its silence as its best applause. 
 
 TUB STATE DRCDOE'S BEUSR OP NATCBE AND THE C(USTRY. 
 — UKDOK-BOWS. — UEADS. — DOWNS. — THE SEA-UOY. 
 
 He knows indeed that, whether dressed or rude. 
 Wild without art, or artfully subdued. 
 Nature in every form inspires delight, 
 But never marked her with so just a sight. 
 
 Her hedgerow shrubs, a variegated store, 
 With woodbine and wild roses mantled o'er, 
 Green balks and furrowed lands, the stream, that 
 Its cooling vapor o'er the dewy meads, [spreads 
 Downs, that almost escape th' inquiring eye, 
 That melt and fade into the distant sky. 
 Beauties ho lately slighted as ho passed. 
 Seem all created since ho travelled last. 
 Master of all th' enjoyments he designed. 
 No rough annoyance rankling in his mijid, 
 What early philosophic hours ho keeps. 
 How regular his meals, how sound he sleeps ! 
 Not sounder he, that on the mainmast hciui, 
 While morning kindles with a wiuily rod, 
 Begins a long look-out for distant land, 
 Nor quits till evening watch his giddy stand. 
 Then swift descending, with a seaman's haste, 
 Slips to his hammock, and forgets the blast. 
 
 He chooses company, but not the squire's. 
 Whose wit is rudeness, whose good-breeding tires ; 
 Nor yet the parson's, who would gladly come. 
 Obsequious when abroad, though proud at home ; 
 Nor can he much affect the neighboring peer. 
 Whoso too of emulation troads too near ; 
 But wisely seeks a more convenient friend. 
 With whom, dismissing forms, he may unbend ! 
 A man, whom marks of condescending grace 
 Teach, while they flatter him, his proper place ; 
 Who comes when called, and at a word withdraws, 
 Speaks with reserve, and listens with applause ; 
 Some plain mechanic, who, without pretence 
 To birth or wit, nor gives nor tokes offence ; 
 On whom he rests well pleased his weary powers. 
 And tiilks and laughs away his vacant hours. 
 The tide of life, swift always in its course. 
 May run in cities with a brisker force, 
 But nowhere with a current so serene, 
 Or half so clear, as in the rural scene. 
 
 Yet how fallacious is all earthly bliss ! 
 What obvious truths the wisest heads may miss ! 
 Some pleasures live a month, and some a year, 
 But short the date of all we gather hero ; 
 No happiness is felt, except the true. 
 That does not charm the more for being new. 
 This observation as it chanced, not made. 
 Or if the thoUijht occurred, not duly weighed. 
 He sighs— for after all by slow degrees 
 The spot he loved has lost the power to please ; 
 To cross his ambling pony day by day, 
 Seoms at the best but dreaming life away ; 
 The prospect, such as might enchant despair. 
 He views it not, or sees no beauty there ; 
 With aching heart, and discontented looks. 
 Returns at noon to billiards or to books. 
 But feols, while grasping at his faded joys, 
 A secret thirst of his renounced employs. 
 
364 
 
 KURAL POETRY. — COWPER. 
 
 He chides the tardiness of every post, 
 
 Pants to be told of battles won or lost, 
 
 Blames his own indolence, observes, though late, 
 
 'T is criminal to leave a sinking state. 
 
 Flies to the levee, and, received with grace. 
 
 Kneels, kisses hands, and shines again in place. 
 
 Suburban villas, highway-side retreats, 
 That dread th' encroachment of our growing streets, 
 Tight boxe^ neatly sashed, and in a blaze 
 With all a July sun's collected rays, 
 Delight the citizen, who, gasping there, 
 Breathes clouds of dust, and calls it country air. 
 sweet retirement, who would balk the thought. 
 That could afford retirement, or could not ? 
 'T is such au easy walk, so smooth and straight, 
 The second milestone fronts the garden gate ; 
 A step if fair, and if a shower approach. 
 You find safe shelter in the next stage-coach. 
 There, prisoned in a parlor snug and small, 
 Like bottled wasps upon a southern wall. 
 The man of business and his friends, compressed, 
 Forget their labors, and yet find no rest ; 
 But still 't is rural — trees are to be seen 
 From every window, and the fields are green ; 
 Ducks paddle in the pond before the door. 
 And what could a remoter scene show more ? 
 
 SB REQtnBE, OR CAN COMMAND, ELEGANT 
 
 A sense of elegance we rarely find 
 The portion of a mean or vulgar mind ; 
 And ignorance of better things makes man. 
 Who cannot much, rejoice in what he can ; 
 And he that deems his leisure well bestowed. 
 In contemplation of a turnpike road, 
 Is occupied as well, employs his hours 
 As wisely, and as much improves his powers, 
 As he that slumbers in pavilions graced 
 With all the charms of an accomplished taste. 
 Yet hence, alas ! insolvencies ; and hence 
 Th' unpitied victim of ill-judged expense, 
 From all his wearisome engagements freed. 
 Shakes hands with business, and retires indeed. 
 
 FASHIONABLE MIGRATION TO THE SEA-SHORE. 
 
 Your prudent grandmammas, ye modern belles, 
 Content with Bristol, Bath, and Tunbridge-wells, 
 '\Vhen health required it would consent to roam. 
 Else more attached to pleasures found at home. 
 But now alike, gay widow, virgin, wife. 
 Ingenious to diversify dull life, 
 In coaches, chaises, caravans, and hoys, 
 Fly to the coast for daily, nightly joys. 
 And all, impatient of dry land, agree 
 With one consent to rush into the sea. — 
 
 THE OCEAN. — ITS SMILES AND ITS TERRORS. 
 
 Ocean exhibits, fathomless and broad, 
 Much of the power and majesty of Uod. 
 He swathes about the swelling of the deep. 
 That shines and rests as infants smile and sleep ; 
 Vast as it is, it answers as it flows 
 
 The breathings of the lightest air that blows ; 
 Curling and whitening over all the waste. 
 The rising waves obey th' increasing blast. 
 Abrupt and horrid, os the tempest roars. 
 Thunder and flash upon the stedfast shores, 
 Till He, that rides the whirlwind, checks the reir 
 Then all the world of waters sleeps again. 
 Nereids or Dryads, as the fashion leads. 
 Now in the floods, now panting in the meads. 
 Votaries of Pleasure still, where'er she dwells. 
 Near barren rocks, in palaces, or cells, 
 grant a poet leave to recommend 
 (A poet fond of nature, and your friend) 
 Her slighted works to your admiring view ; 
 Her works must needs excel, who fashioned you. 
 
 Would ye, when rambling in your morning ride. 
 With some unmeaning coxcomb at your side, 
 Condemn the prattler for his idle pains. 
 To waste unheard the music of his strains. 
 And, deaf to all th' impertinence of tongue. 
 That, while it courts, affronts and does you wrong, 
 Mark well the finished plan without a fault. 
 The seas globose and huge, th' o'er-arching vault. 
 Earth's millions daily fed, a world employed 
 In gathering plenty yet to be enjoyed. 
 Till gratitude grew vocal in the praise 
 Of God, beneficent in all his ways ; 
 Graced with such wisdom, how would beauty shine ! 
 Ye want but that to seem indeed divine. 
 
 Anticipated rents, and bills unpaid. 
 Force many a shining youth into the shade, 
 Not to redeem his time, but his estate, 
 And play the fool, but at a cheaper rate. 
 There, hid in loathed obscurity, removed 
 From pleasures left, but never more beloved, 
 He just endures, and with a sickly spleen 
 Sighs o'er the beauties of the charming scene. 
 Nature indeed looks prettily in rhyme ; 
 Streams tinkle sweetly in poetic chime : 
 The warblings of the blackbird, clear and strong. 
 Are musical enough in Thomson's song ; 
 And Cobham's groves, and Windsor's green retreats, 
 When Pope describes them, have a thousand sweets ; 
 He likes the country, but in truth must own, 
 Most likes it, when he studies it in town. 
 
 GOOD-NATCRED WILD J 
 
 Poor Jack — no matter who — for when I blame 
 I pity, and must therefore sink the name. 
 Lived in his saddle, loved the chase, the course. 
 And always, ere he mounted, kissed his horse. 
 Th' estate, his sires had owned in ancient years, 
 Was quickly distanced, matched against a peer's. 
 Jack vanished, was regretted and forgot ; 
 'T is wild good-nature's never-failing lot. 
 At length, when all had long supposed him dead. 
 By cold submersion, razor, rope, or lead, 
 
My lord, alighting at his usual |)lace, 
 The Cruwn, took notice of an ostler's faoo. 
 Jack knew his friend, but hoped in that disguise 
 He might escape the most observing eyes, 
 And whistling, as if unconoerned and gay, 
 Curried his nag, and looked another way. 
 Convinced at last, upon a nearer view, 
 'T was he, the same, the very Jack he knew ; 
 O'envhelmcd at once with wonder, grief, and joy. 
 He pressed him much to quit his base employ ; 
 His countenance, his purse, his heart, his hand. 
 Influence and power, were all at his command : 
 Peers are not always generous as well-bred, 
 liut Granby was, meant truly what ho said, [strange, 
 Jack bowed, and was obliged, confessed 'twas 
 That so retired ho should not wish a change. 
 But knew no medium between gu7.zling boor 
 
 nt — three thousand pounds a year. 
 
 Nor such a^ useless oonvorsation breeds, 
 Or lust engenders, and indulgence feeds. 
 
 Andl 
 
 Thus some retire to nourish hopeless woe ; 
 Some seeking happiness not found below ; 
 Some to comply with humor, and a mind 
 To social scenes by nature disinclined ; 
 Some swayed by faahion, some by deep disgust ; 
 Some self-impoverished, and because they must ; 
 But few, that court retirement, are aware 
 Of half the toils they must encounter there. 
 
 Lucrative offices are seldom lost 
 For want of powers proportioned to the post : 
 Give even a dunce the employment he desires, 
 finds the talents it requires ; 
 
 Furnishes always oil for its own wheels, 
 liut in his arduous enterprise to close 
 His active years with indolent repose. 
 He finds the labors of that state e.\ceed 
 His utmost faculties, severe indeed ! 
 
 LRISCRE DIFFICCLT TO MANAOE. — xnoDGHT AND KEVERY. 
 
 'T is easy to resign a toilsome place. 
 But not to manage leisure with a grace ; 
 Absence of occupation is not rest, 
 A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed. 
 The veteran steed, excused his task at length. 
 In kind compassion of his failing strength. 
 And turned into tlie park or mead to graze, 
 K.\cmpt from future service all bis days. 
 There feels a pleasure perfect in its kind, 
 Ranges at liberty, and snuSi the wind : 
 But when his lord would quit the busy road, 
 To taste a joy like that ho had bestowed, 
 He proves, less happy than his favored brute, 
 A life of ease a difficult pursuit. 
 
 Thought, to the man that never thinks, may seem 
 As natural as when asleep to dream ; 
 But reveries (for human minds will act) 
 Specious in show, impossible in fact. 
 Those flimsy webs, that break as soon as wrought. 
 Attain not to the dignity of thought : 
 Nor yet the swarms, that occupy the brain. 
 Where dreams of dress, intrigue, and pleoauro, reign ; 
 
 ' Whence, and what are we ? to what end ordained ? 
 
 j What means the drama by the world sustained '! 
 
 I Business or vain amusement, care or mirth, 
 
 ■ Divide the frail inhabitants of earth. 
 Is duty a mere sport, or an employ ? 
 Life an intrusted talent, or a toy ? 
 Is there, ns reason, conscience. Scripture, say, 
 Cause to provide for a great future day. 
 When, earth's assigned duration at an end, 
 Man shall be summoned, and the dead attend ? 
 The trumpet — will it sound ; the curtain rise, 
 And show the august tribunal of the skies ; 
 Where no prevarication shall avail, 
 Where eloquence and artifice shall fail, 
 The pride of arrogant distinctions fall, 
 And conscience and our conduct judge us all ? 
 
 TUB LABOM OF THE LEARXKD WKIOUKD. 
 
 Pardon me, yo that give the midnight oil 
 To learned cares, or philosophic toil. 
 Though I revere your honorable names, 
 Yonr useful labors and important aims. 
 And hold the world indebted to your aid. 
 Enriched with the discoveries ye have made ; 
 Yet let me stand excused, if I esteem 
 A mind employed on so sublime a theme. 
 Pushing her bold inquiry to the date 
 And outline of the present transient state. 
 And, after poising her adventurous wings, 
 Settling at last upon eternal things, 
 Far more intelligent, and better taught 
 The strenuous use of profitivble thought. 
 Than ye, when happiest, and enlightened most. 
 And highest in renown, can justly boast. 
 
 WHAT LrTEBATCRB LEISl'RE NEEDS. 
 
 A mind unnerved, or indisposed to bear 
 The weight of subjects worthiest of her care. 
 Whatever hopes a change of scene inspires. 
 Must change her nature, or in vain retires. 
 An idler is a watch, that wants both hands j 
 As useless if it goes, as when it stands. 
 Books therefore, not the scandal of the shelves, 
 In which lewd sensualists print out themselves ; 
 Nor those in which the stage gives vice a blow. 
 With what success let modern manners show ; 
 Nor his, who, for the bane of thousands bom. 
 Built God a church, and laughed his Word to scorn. 
 Skilful alike to seem devout and just, 
 And stab religion with a sly side-thrust ; 
 Nor those of learned philologists, who chase 
 A panting syllable through time and space. 
 Start it at home, and hunt it in the dark. 
 To Gaul, to Greece, and into Noah's ark ; 
 But such OS learning without false pretence. 
 The friend of truth, the associate of sound sense. 
 And such as, in the zeal of good design. 
 Strong judgment laboring in the Scripture mine. 
 
KURAL POETRY. COWPER. 
 
 All such as manly and great souls produce. 
 Worthy to live, and of etarnal use : 
 Behold in these what leisure hours demand, 
 Amusement and true knowledge hand in hand. 
 
 Luxury gives the mind a childish cast. 
 And while she polishes, perverts the taste ; 
 Habits of close attention, thinking heads, 
 Become more rare as dissipation spreads. 
 Till authors hear at length one general cry, — 
 Tickle and entertain us, or we die. 
 The loud demand, from year to year the same, 
 Beggars invention, and makes fancy lame ; 
 Till farce itself, most mournfully jejune. 
 Calls for the kind assistance of a tune ; 
 And novels (witness every month's review) 
 Belie their name, and offer nothing new. 
 The mind, relaxing into needful sport, 
 Should turn to writers of an abler sort. 
 Whose wit well managed, and whose elassio style, 
 Give truth a lustre, and make wisdom smile. 
 
 Friends (for I cannot stint, as some have done. 
 Too rigid in my view, that name to one ; 
 Though one, I grant it, in the generous breast 
 Will stand advanced a step above the rest : 
 Flowers by that name promiscuously we call, 
 But one, the rose, the regent of them all) — 
 Friends, not adopted with a school-boy'B haste. 
 But chosen with a nice-discerning taste. 
 Well-born, well-disciplined, who, placed apart 
 From vulgar minds, have honor much at heart. 
 And, though the world may think the ingredients 
 The love of virtue, and the fear of God ! [odd, 
 
 Such friends prevent what else would soon succeed, 
 A temper rustic as the life we lead. 
 And keep the polish of the manners clean, 
 As theirs who bustle in the busiest scene. 
 
 For solitude, however some may rave. 
 Seeming a sanctuary, proves a grave, 
 A sepulchre, in which the living lie, 
 Where all good qualities grow sick and die. 
 I praise the Frenchman,' his remark was shrewd — 
 How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude ! 
 But grant me still a friend in my retreat. 
 Whom I may whisper — solitude is sweet. 
 Yet neither these delights, nor aught beside, 
 That appetite can ask, or wealth provide. 
 Can save us always from a tedious day. 
 Or shine the dulness of still life away ; 
 Divine communion, carefully enjoyed, 
 Or sought with energy, must fill the void. 
 
 sabred art, to which alone life owes 
 Its happiest seasons, and a peaceful close. 
 Scorned in a world, indebted to that scorn 
 . For evils daily felt and hardly borne, 
 
 Not knowing thee, we reap with bleeding hands 
 
 Flowers of rank odor upon thorny lauds. 
 
 And, while experience cautions us in vain, 
 
 Grasp seeming happiness, and find it pain. 
 
 Despondence, self-deserted in her grief. 
 
 Lost by abandoning her own relief, 
 
 Murmuring and ungrateful discontent, 
 
 That scorns afflictions mercifully meant. 
 
 Those humors, tart as wine upon the fret. 
 
 Which idleness and weariness beget ; [breast. 
 
 These, and a thousand plagues, that haunt the 
 
 Fond of the phantom of an earthly rest. 
 
 Divine communion chases, as the day 
 
 Drives to their dens the obedient beasts of prey. 
 
 See Judah's promised king, bereft of all, 
 IJriven out an exile from the face of Saul, 
 To distant caves the lonely wanderer flies. 
 To seek that peace a tyrant's frown denies. 
 Hear the sweet accents of his tuneful voice ; 
 Hear him, o'erwhelmed with sorrow, yet rejoice ; 
 No womanish or wailing grief has part, 
 No, not a moment, in his royal heart ; 
 'T is manly music, such as martyrs make. 
 Suffering with gladness for a Saviour's sake ; 
 His soul exults, hope animates his lays. 
 The sense of mercy kindles into praise. 
 And wilds, familiar with a lion's roar. 
 Ring with ecstatic sounds unheard before : 
 'T is love like his that can alone defeat 
 The foes of man, or make a desert sweet. 
 
 Religi.>Ti .1 Ti"t ,-,Mi<iir.- ..r exclude 
 
 Unnumberr.l |.|r;i-inr^ li;i i iiilfssly pursued ; 
 To sturdy cultui.-, an. I nitii ;iitful toil 
 To meliorate and tame the stubborn soil ; 
 To give dissimilar yet fruitful lands 
 The grain, or herb, or plant, that each demands 
 To cherish virtue in an humble state. 
 And share the joys your bounty may create ; 
 To mark the matchless workings of the power 
 That shuts within its seed the future flower, 
 Bids these in elegatiee of t'^'Vin -xri I. 
 In color these, ami thn-r il(lii:lii t\,r .^niell. 
 Sends nature forth t\f <hm,L;lil''i "I' iIh' skies. 
 To dance on eartli, ami ebann all human eyes ; 
 To teach the canvas innocent deceit, 
 Or lay the landscape on the snowy sheet — 
 These, these are arts pursued without a crime, 
 That leave no stain upon the wing of time. 
 TUB poet's ilM. 
 
 Me poetry (or rather notes that aim 
 Feebly and vainly at poetic fame) 
 Employs, shut out from more important views. 
 Fast by the banks of the slow-winding Ouse ; 
 Content if thus sequestered I may raise 
 A monitor's, though not a poet's praise, 
 And while I teach an art too little known, 
 To close life wisely, may not waste my own. 
 
|asior;i(5 for liliUinulifi 
 
 BURNS'S " COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT.' 
 
 My lovod, my honored, much respected friend ! 
 
 No mercenary bard bis homage pays : 
 With honest pride I scorn each selfish end, 
 
 My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise : 
 To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays. 
 
 The lowly train in life's sequestered scone. 
 The native feelings strong, the guileless ways 
 
 Which A in a cottAgo would have been ; 
 
 Ah ! though his worth unknown, far happier there, 
 
 November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; 
 
 The short'ning wint^-r tlMv t- ii'-nr a close ; 
 The miry beasL< r'ft. ti ii;_' lu. il,, j,K-ugh, 
 
 The blnck'nin;; ii:iii - i : ,.u - t . ilirir repose ; 
 The toil-worn Ci.ltir im.' I.i- lilh.r ^■.ll•s, 
 
 This night his weekly nu.il is :it an end. 
 Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes, 
 
 Hoping the morn in case and rest to spend, 
 And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward 
 bend. 
 
 At length his lonely cot appears in view, 
 
 liencath the shelter of an aged tree ; 
 The expectant woo-things, toddlin, staehor through, 
 
 To meet their dad, wi' flichterin noise and glee. 
 His woe bit ingle blinkin bonnily. 
 
 His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifio's smile. 
 The lisping infant prattling on his knee, 
 
 Does a' his weary, carking cares beguile, 
 An' makes him quite forget his labor and his toil. 
 
 Eelyve the elder bairns come drappiu in, • 
 
 At service out amang the farmers roun' ; 
 Some ea' the plough, some herd, some tontie rin 
 
 A oannie errand to a neobor town : 
 Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown. 
 
 In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e, 
 Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw now gown. 
 
 Or deposit her sair-won penny fee. 
 To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. 
 
 Wi' joy unfeigned, brothers and sisters meet. 
 
 An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers : 
 The social hours, swift-wing'd, unnoticed fleet ; 
 
 Each tells the uncos that ho sees or hoars ; 
 The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years ; 
 
 Anticipation forward points the view ; 
 The mother, wi' her needle an' her shears. 
 
 Gars auld claes look amaist as weel 's the new ; 
 The father mixes a 
 
 Their master's an' their mistress's command 
 
 The yonkors a' are warned to obey. 
 An' mind their labors wi' an cydont hand. 
 
 An' ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play ; 
 An' ! be sure to fear the Lord ulway ! 
 
 An' mind your duty, duly, morn and night, 
 Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray ; 
 
 Implore His counsel and assisting might. 
 They never sought in vain who sought the Lord 
 aright. 
 
 But, hark ! a rap comes gently to the door — 
 
 Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' tho same. 
 Tolls how a neebor lad cam o'er the moor 
 
 To do some errands and convoy her hame. 
 Tho wily mother sees tho conscious flame 
 
 Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek, 
 AVith heart-struck, anxious caro, inquires his name. 
 
 While Jenny hafHins is afraid to speak ; 
 Weel pleased tho mother hears it's nao wild, worth- 
 less rake. 
 
 Wi' kindly welcome, Jonny brings him ben : 
 A strappan youth ; he takes the mother's eye ; 
 
 hlythe Jenny sees the visit 's no ill ta'en : 
 
 Th.- 1-ith.T .■„.■];• „f 1, :,r--.-. i.I.-n-lw, and kyo : 
 
 Th.- V ,-i.V. .,i!. . V,,,, ,,-, 
 
 J"y : 
 
 T1"V""<1'— ■ •• > -,■,„, I, -,,.:„,-i,y 
 
 What miikt-'s the youth s.io Ijiishfu' an' sae grave, 
 Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the 
 lave. 
 
 happy love ! where lovo like this is found ! 
 
 heartfelt raptures ! bliss beyond compare ! 
 
 1 've paced much this weary, mortal round. 
 
 And sage experience bids mo this declare : 
 If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, 
 
 One cordial in this melancholy vale, 
 T is when a youthful, loving, modest pair 
 
 In other's arms breathe out the tender talc, 
 Beneath tho milk-white thorn that scents the even- 
 ing gale. 
 
 Is there, in human form, that bears a heart — 
 
 A wretch ! a villain ! lost t« love and truth ! — 
 That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art. 
 
 Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth 7 
 Curse on his perjured arts ! dissembling smooth ! 
 
 Are honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled 1 
 Is there no pity, no relenting ruth. 
 
 Points to the parents fondling o'er their child, 
 Then paints the ruined maid, and their distraction 
 wild? 
 
RURAL POETRY. BURNS rLETCHER. 
 
 But now the supper crowns the simple board : 
 
 The halesome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food : 
 The soup their only hawkie does afford, 
 
 That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood ; 
 The dame brings forth in complimental mood, 
 
 To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd kebbuck fell. 
 And aft he 's prest, and aft he ca's it guid. 
 
 The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell 
 How thus a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell. 
 
 The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, 
 
 They round the ingle form a circle wide ; 
 The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, 
 
 The big Ha' Bible, ance his father's pride ; 
 His bonnet reverently is laid aside,* 
 
 His lyart haffets wearin thin an' bare. 
 Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 
 
 He wales a portion with judicious care ; 
 And, let us worship God ! he says, with solemn air. 
 
 They chant their artless notes in simple guise. 
 
 They tunc their hearts, by far the noblest aim ; 
 Perhaps Dundee's wild warbling measures rise, 
 
 Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name, 
 Or noble Elgin beets the heavenward flame, 
 
 The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays ; 
 Compared with these Italian trills are tame ; 
 
 The tickled ears no heartfelt raptures raise : 
 Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 
 
 The priest-like father reads the sacred page, 
 
 How Abram was the friend of God on high ; 
 Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage 
 
 With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; 
 Or how the royal bard did groaning lie 
 
 Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire. 
 Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry ; 
 
 Or rapt Isaiah's wild seraphic fire ; 
 Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. 
 
 Then kneeling down, to heaven's eternal King, 
 
 The saint, the father, and the husband prays ; — 
 Hope ' springs exulting on triumphant wing,' 
 
 That thus they all shall meet in future days ; 
 There ever bask in uncreated rays ; 
 
 No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, 
 Together hymning their Creator's praise, 
 
 In such society, yet still more dear, 
 While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. 
 
 Then homeward all take off their several way, 
 The youngling cottagers retire to rest. 
 
 The parent pair their secret homage pay, 
 
 And proffer up to Heaven their warm request, 
 
 That He who stills the raven's clamorous nest. 
 
 And decks the lily fair in flowery pride, 
 Would, in the way his wisdom sees the best, 
 - For them and for their little ones provide. 
 But chiefly in their hearts with grace divine preside. 
 
 blossom i iiii.\ hall ; lyurt, gray ; hallets, Uinplcs ; wales, 
 selects ; beets, aJils fuel to ; Dundee and Elgin, well-known 
 psalm tunes. — See also glossaries, pp. 186, 336. 
 
 FLETCHER'S "SHEPHERD'S EVE." 
 
 Shepherds all, and maidens fair, 
 Fold your flocks up, for the air 
 'Gins to thicken, and the sun 
 Already his great course hath run. 
 See the dew-drops, how they kiss 
 Every little flower that is 
 Hanging on their velvet heads, 
 Like a rope of crystal beads ; 
 Sec the heavy clouds low felling, 
 And bright Hesperus down calling 
 The dead night from underground ; 
 At whose rising mists unsound. 
 Damps and vapors fly apace. 
 Hovering o'er the wanton face 
 Of those pastures where they come, 
 Striking dead both bud and bloom. 
 Therefore from such danger lock 
 Every one his loved flock ; 
 And let your dogs lie loose without. 
 Lest the wolf come as a scout 
 From the mountain, and, ere day, 
 Bear a lamb or kid away ; 
 Or the crafty, thievish fox 
 Break upon your simple flocks. 
 To secure yourself from these, 
 Be not too secure in ease ; 
 Let one eye his watches keep. 
 While the other eye doth sleep ; 
 So you shall good shepherds prove. 
 And forever hold the love 
 Of our great God. Sweetest slumbers, 
 And soft silence, fall in numbers 
 On your eyelids ! so farewell ! 
 Thus I end my evening knell ! 
 
(Trail lie's "'^lavish lUiiistcv 
 
 ■ .M.UUIIAGES. " 
 
 wealthy couple : relucwno.- In llie husbanil, why ? Un- 
 usually fair siKnaturcs in the register : the common iiind. 
 Seduction of Bridget Dawdle, by footman Daniel ; her 
 
 threi; comparisons on the occasion. More pleasant view 
 of villn^u n)ntriniony : farmers celebrating tile day of 
 marriage : their wives. Keul>en and Rachel an happy 
 pair : an example of prudent delay. Reflections on their 
 state who were not so prudent, and its improvement 
 towards the termination of life : an old man so circum- 
 stanced. Attempt to seduce a village beauty : persuasion 
 and reply : the event. 
 
 Nubcre si quA voles quamvis propcrabitis ambo, 
 Differ } habent parvm commoda magna morfe. 
 
 Ovid. Fast. lit). 3. 
 
 Disposed to wed, e'on while you hasten, stay, 
 There 's great advantage in a stuall delay ; 
 Thus Ovid sang, and much the wii^e approve 
 This prudent ma.\iin of the priest of love : 
 If poor, delay shall for that want prepare, 
 That, on the hasty, brings a world of care ; 
 If rich, delay shall brace the thoughtful mind, 
 T' endure the ills that even the happiest find : 
 Delay shall knowledge yield, on either part, 
 And show the value of the vanquished heart : 
 The humors, passions, merits, failings, prove. 
 And gently raise the veil that 's worn by love ; 
 Love, that impatient guide ! — too proud to think 
 Of vulgar wants, of clothing, meat, and drink. 
 Urges our amorous swains their joys to seize. 
 And then at rags and hunger frightened flees : 
 Yet thee too long let not thy fears detain ; 
 Till age, refrain not — but if old, refrain. 
 
 By no such rule would Gaffer Kirk be tied ; 
 First in the year ho led a blooming bride, 
 And stood a withered elder athcr side. 
 ! Xathan ! Xathan ! at thy years trepanned. 
 To take a wanton harlot by the hand ! 
 Thi.u, k\v> wi-rt u.iscd so tartly to express 
 Thy scnst> uf matrimonial happiness. 
 Till every youth, whose banns at church were read, 
 Strove not to meet, or, meeting, hung his head ; 
 And every lass forbore at thee to look, 
 
 A sly old fish, too cunning for tho hook ; 
 And now at sixty that pert dame to see 
 Of all thy savings mistress, and of thee ; 
 Xnw w'lU the lads, remembering insults past, 
 I Vv , It, the wise one in the trap at last ! ' 
 < II ! fie ! to let a sprightly jade 
 . ) x'd, then ask thee how 't was made, 
 \ I i ,. 1 n;; walk around nt head and feet. 
 To sec thy nightly comforts all complete ; 
 Then waiting seek — not what she said she sought, 
 And bid a penny for her master's thought 
 (A thought she knew, and thou couldst not send 
 
 hence, 
 Well as thou lovcdst them, for ton thousand pence) ; 
 And thus with some bold hint she would retire. 
 That waked the idle wish and stirred tho slumbering ' 
 Didst thou believe thy passion all so laid, [fire; 
 That thou might'st trifle with thy wanton maid, 
 And feel amused and yet not feel afraid ? 
 The driest fagot, Nathan, once was green, 
 And, laid on embers, still some sap is seen ; 
 Oaks, bald like thfi' ahi.vo, that cease to grow. 
 Feel yet the wmrnili i i ^|.tiii_' and bud below ; 
 More sensoli-- rli.u ihni i.i_'"t un the fire, 
 For tliou f.iiiM I ['■■■■]. iiiiii \rt wouldst not retire ; 
 Lc'S< [ii'.v i'lriit ili.iii living tree?, — for they 
 Soiii-' \ n.i! -fn tuih, sume living fire, display. 
 But iiiii. ilKit tii.l t.i wear tho life itself away. 
 Even iiuw i ;i.i.- tbuu to tho altar come ; 
 Downcast thou wcrt, and conscious of thy doom : 
 I see thee glancing on that shape aside. 
 With blended looks of jealousy and pride ; 
 But growing fear has long the pride supprcst, 
 And but one tyrant rankles in thy breast ; 
 Now of hor love a second pledge appears. 
 And doubts on doubts arise, and fears on fears ; 
 Vet fear defy, and be of courage stout. 
 Another pledge will banish every doubt ; 
 Thine ago advancing as thy powers retire, [quire? 
 Will make thee sure — what more wouldst thou re- 
 
 TOUNO BCSDAX 
 
 -A STEADY 
 
 Thus with example sad our year began, 
 A wanton vixen and a weary man ; 
 ' But had this tale in other guise been told,' 
 Young let tho lover be, tho lady old, 
 And that disparity of years shall prove 
 No bane of peace, although some bar to love : 
 T is not the worst, our nuptial tics among, 
 That joins the ancient bride and bridegroom young; 
 Young wives, like changing winds, their power dis- 
 By shifting points and varying day by day ; [play, 
 
 47 
 
RUKAL POETRY. - 
 
 Now zephyrs mild, now wliiiiwiiuls in tlieir force, 
 Tliey sometimes speed, but .iltcEi llnv^n t mir course 
 And much experienced .-l]'!!!!.! iljat |ii|.,t I,,., 
 Wlio sails with them, on lil< ■. iriiii'i-iii..n> sea : 
 But lilie a trade-wind id the aiieiuuL dauiL-, 
 Mild to your wish, and every day the same ; 
 Steady as time, no sudden squalls you fear, 
 But set full sail and with assurance steer ; 
 Till every danger in your way be past, 
 And then she gently, mildly, breathes her last ; 
 Rich you arrive, in port a while remain, 
 And for a second venture sail again. 
 
 For this blilhc I'^iikiM suutliward made his way, 
 And left the la --.- ..i, ih, I,;,,,!.- ,,1'Tay; 
 Him to a neiglilniinu ■■:,i'{r„ |..i tune sent ; 
 Whom we beheld at|aiiiiyl.y euiiteut : 
 Patient and mild he sought the dame to please, 
 Who ruled the kitchen and who bore the keys ; 
 Fair Lucy first, the laundry's gi-ace and pride. 
 With smiles and gracious looks, her fortune tried ; 
 But all in vain she praised his ' pawky eyne,' 
 Where never fondness was for Lucy seen ; 
 Him the mild Susan, boast of dairies, loved. 
 And found him civil, cautious, and unmoved ; 
 From many a fragrant simple Catharine's skill 
 Drew oil, drew essence from the boiling still ; 
 But not her warmth, nor all her winning ways. 
 From his cool phlegm could Donald's spirit raise ; 
 Of beauty heedless, with the merry mute, 
 To Mrs. Dobson he preferred his suit ; 
 There proved his service, there addressed his vows. 
 And saw her mistress, friend, protectress, spouse. 
 A butler now, he thanks his powerful bride. 
 And, like her keys, keeps constant at her side. 
 
 THE COMPELLEn WEDDING ; MISERY FROM SIN. 
 
 Next at cur altar stood a luckless pair. 
 Brought by strong passions and a warrant there ; 
 By long rent cloak, hung loosely, strove the bride 
 From every eye what all perceived to hide ; 
 While the boy-bridegroom, shuffling in his pace. 
 Now hid a while and then exposed his face ; 
 As shame alternately with auger strove 
 The brain, confused with muddy ale, to move ; 
 In haste and stammering he performed his part. 
 And looked the rage that rankled iu his heart 
 (So will each lover inly curse his fate. 
 Too soon made happy, and made wise too late) ; 
 I saw his features take a savage gloom. 
 And deeply threaten for the days to come ; 
 Low spake the lass, and lisped and minced the while ; 
 Looked on the lad, and faintly tried to smile ; 
 With softened speech and humbled tone she strove 
 To stir the embers of departed love ; 
 While he, a tyrant, frowning walked before, 
 Felt the poor purse, and sought the public door. 
 She sadly following in submission went, 
 
 And saw the final shilling foully spent ; 
 Then to her father's hut the pair withdrew. 
 And hade to love and comfort long adieu ! ' — 
 Ah ! fly temptation, youth ; refrain ! refrain 
 I preach forever ; but I preach in vain ! 
 
 Two summers since, I saw at Lammas fair 
 The sweetest flower that ever blossomed there ; 
 When Phebe Dawson gayly crossed the green. 
 In haste to see, and happy to be seen ; 
 Her air, her manners, all who saw admired ; 
 Courteous thou-h coy, and gentle though retired ; 
 The joy of ynuth and health her eyes displayed, 
 And rase (.f Iirait her every look conveyed ; 
 -\ iiatiw -I, ill In 1- simple robes expressed, 
 A- u nil iiiitiihrrrl elegance she dressed ; 
 l!n' !a<ls arnmel admired so fair a sight. 
 And Phcbe felt, and felt she gave, delight. 
 Admirers soon of every age she gained. 
 Her beauty won them, and her worth retained ; 
 Envy itself could no contempt display — 
 They wished her well, whom yet they wished away; 
 Correct in thought, she judged a servant's place 
 Preserved a rustic beauty from disgrace ; 
 But yet on Sunday eve, in freedom's hour. 
 With secret joy she felt that beauty's power ; 
 When some proud bliss upon the heart would steal. 
 That, poor or rich, a beauty still must feel. 
 
 At length, the youth ordained to move her breast 
 Before the swains with bolder spirit pressed ; 
 With looks less timid made his passion known, 
 And pleased by manners most unlike her own ; 
 Loud though in love, and confident though young ; 
 Fierce in his air, and voluble of tongue ; 
 By trade a tailor, though, in scorn of trade. 
 He served the squire, and brushed the coat he made; 
 Yet now, would Phebe her consent afford. 
 Her slave alone, again he 'd mount the board ; 
 With her should years of growing love be spent, 
 And growing wealth : — she sighed, and looked con- 
 
 THE LOVERS' STROLL. — TEMPTATION YIELDED TO. 
 
 Now, through the lane, up hill, and 'cross the 
 Seen but by few and blushing to be seen — [green, 
 Dejected, thoughtful, anxious, and afraid, — 
 Led by the lover, walked the silent maid : 
 Slow through the meadows roved they, many a mile. 
 Toyed by each bank and trifled at each stile ; 
 Where, as he painted every blissful view. 
 And highly colored what he strongly drew. 
 The pensive damsel, prone to tender fears. 
 Dimmed the false prospect with prophetic tears : 
 Thus passed the allotted hours, till, lingering late, 
 The lover loitered at the master's gate ; 
 There he pronounced adieu ! and yet would stay, 
 Till chidden, soothed, entreated, forced away ; 
 
AUTDMN — NOVEMBER. 
 
 871 
 
 Ho would of coldness, though indulged, complain, 
 And oft retire and oft return again ; 
 When, if his teasing vexed her gentle mind. 
 The grief assumed compelled her to bo kind ! 
 For ho would proof of plighted kindness oravo, 
 That she resented first, and then forgave. 
 And to his grief and penance yielded more 
 Than his presumption had required before ; 
 Ah ! fly temptation, youth ; refrain, refrain, 
 Each yielding maid, and each presuming swain ! 
 
 MISEBADLE BESrLT OK PUBBF.'S HAHRUOB. — HER KOBLOBS 
 
 Lo! now with red, rent cloak and bonnet black. 
 And tora green gown, loose hanging at hor back, 
 One who an infant in her arm sustains. 
 And seems in patience striving with her pains ; 
 Pinched arc her looks, as one who pines for bread, 
 Whose cares arc growing, and whose hopes aro fled ; 
 Piilc her parched lips, lier heavy eyes sunk low. 
 And tears unnoticed from their channels flow ; 
 Serene her manner, till some sudden pain 
 Frets the meek soul, and then she 's calm again ; — 
 Her broken pitcher to the pool she takes. 
 And every step with cautious terror makes ; 
 For not alone that infant in her arms. 
 But nearer cause, maternal fear, alarms ; 
 With water burthened, then she picks her way. 
 Slowly and cautious in the clinging clay ; 
 Till in mid-green she trusts a place unsound. 
 And deeply plunges in the adhesive ground ; 
 From whence her slender foot with pain she takes. 
 While hope the mind as strength the frame forsakes. 
 For when so full the cup of sorrow grows. 
 Add but a drop, it instantly o'erflows. — 
 And now hor path, but not her peace, she gains. 
 Safe from her task, but shivering with hor pains ; — 
 Her homo she reaches, open leaves the door, 
 And, placing first her infant on the floor. 
 She bares her bosom to the wind, and sit5. 
 And, sobbing, struggles with the rising fits ; 
 In vain, they come, she feels the inflating grief. 
 That shuts the swelling bosom from relief ; 
 That speaks in feeblo cries a soul distressed, 
 Or the sad laugh that cannot be repressed ; 
 The neighbor-matron leaves her wheel, and flies 
 With all the aid her poverty supplies ; 
 Cnfecd, the calls of nature she obeys. 
 Not led by profit, not allured by praiso ; 
 And, waiting long, till these contentions cease. 
 She speaks of comfort, and departs in peace. 
 Friend of distress ! the mourner feels thy aid, 
 She cannot pay thee, but thou wilt bo paid. 
 
 rnEBK'S HEARTLESS Dl'SBASD. — rLT 
 
 But who this child of weakness, want, and care 7 
 'T is Phebe Dawson, pride of Lammas Fair ; 
 Who took her lover for his sparkling eyes, 
 Expressions warm, and love-inspiring lies : 
 Compassion first assailed her gentle heart. 
 For all his suflering, all his bosom's smart : 
 
 'And then his prayers; they would a savage m( 
 And win the coldest of the sox to love : ' 
 But, tth ! too soon his looks success declared. 
 Too late her loss tho marriage rite repaired ; 
 The faithless flatterer then his vows forgot, 
 A captious tyrant or a noisy sot ; 
 If present, railing, till ho saw her pained ; 
 If absent, spending what their labors gained ; 
 Till that fair form in want and sickness pined. 
 And hope and comfort fled that gentle mind. 
 Then fly temptation, youth ; resist, refrain. 
 Nor let me preach forever and in vain ! 
 
 Next came a well-dressed pair, who left their 
 coach. 
 And made in long procession slow approach : 
 For, this gay bride had many a female friend. 
 And youths were there, this favored youth to attend : 
 Silent, nor wanting due respect, the crowd 
 Stood humbly round, and gratulation bowed ; 
 But not that silent crowd, in wonder fixed. 
 Not numerous friends who praise and envy mixed. 
 Nor nymphs attending near, to swell the pride 
 Of one more fair, the ever-smiling bride j 
 Nor that gay bride adorned with every grace, 
 Nor love nor joy triumphant in her face, 
 Could from the youth's sad signs of sorrow chase : 
 Why didst thou grieve ? Wealth, pleasure, freedom. 
 Vexed it thy soul, that freedom to resign? [thine, 
 Spake scandal truth 7 ' Thou didst not then intend 
 So soon to bring thy wooing to an end 7 ' 
 Or was it, as our prating rustics say. 
 To end as soon, but in a diSerent way 7 
 'T is told thy Phyllis is a skilful dame, 
 Who played uninjured with the dangerous flame : 
 That while, like Lovelace, thou thy coat displayed 
 And hid the snare, prepared to catch the maid, 
 Thee with her net she found the means to catch. 
 And at the amorous' see-saw won the match ;' 
 Yet others tell, the captain fixed thy doubt, 
 lie 'd call thee brother, or he 'd call thee out : — 
 But rest the motive — all retreat too late, 
 Joy like thy bride's should on thy brow have sate ; 
 The deed had then appeared thine own intent, 
 A glorious day, by gracious fortune sent. 
 In each revolving year to be in triumph spent. 
 Then in few weeks that cloudy brow had been 
 Without a wonder or a whisper seen ; 
 And none had been so weak as to inquire, 
 ' Why pouts my lady 7 ' or ' why frowns tho squire 7 ' 
 
 TUB BECISTEB OF NAMES; VARlOfS AlTO(;RAPns HrllOR. 
 : APT TO PRI7.B THE 'SHALL ARTS.' 
 
 TIIAS TnEPEN.— V 
 
 How fair these i 
 
 how much unlike they lo 
 To all the blurred subscriptions in my book ; 
 Tho bridegroom's letters stand in row above, 
 Tapering, yet stout, like pine-trees in his grovo ; 
 
 ' Clarissa, vol. vn., Lovelace's Leitcr. 
 
372 
 
 RURAL POETRY. CRABBE. 
 
 While free and fine the bride's appear below, 
 As light and slender as her jasmines grow ; 
 Mark now in what confusion stoop or stand 
 The crooked scrolls of many a clownish hand ; 
 Now out, now in, they droop, they fall, they rise. 
 Like raw recruits drawn forth for exercise ; 
 Ere yet reformed and modelled by the drill. 
 The free-born legs stand striding as they will. 
 
 Much have I tried to guide the fist along, 
 But still the blunderers placed their blottings wrong ; 
 Behold these marks uncouth ! how strange that men 
 Who guide the plough should fail to guide the pen ; 
 For half a mile, the furrows even lie ; 
 For half an inch, the letters stand awry ; — 
 Is it that, strong and sturdy in the field, 
 They scorn the arms of idle men to wield ; 
 Or give that hand to guide the goose-quill tip, 
 That rules a team and brandishes a whip ? 
 The lions they, whom conscious powers forbid 
 To play the ape, and ' dandle with the kid.' 
 
 But yet, small arts have charms for female eyes ; 
 Our rustic nymphs the beau and scholar prize ; 
 Unlettered swains, and ploughmen coarse, they 
 
 For those who dress, and amorous scrolls indite. 
 
 THE FOOTMiS ANO THE FABSIER ; SPBUCEXESS DISTASCES 
 
 For Bridget Dawdle happier days had been. 
 Had footman Daniel scorned IiI- imtuf ^ircn ; 
 Or when he came an idle OMXi.niril. il-.wn. 
 Had he his love reserved fui l;i-- in in\Mi , 
 To Roger Pluck she then IkmI [J, ,1 m .1 lin- truth, — 
 A sturdy, sober, kind, unji'>li-lii 1 \ iirh ; 
 But from the day, that fatal -lay, -In ■] i. -I 
 The pride of Daniel, Daniel iva- hn piilr. 
 In all his dealings, Hodge was jiut and true, 
 But coarse his doublet was and i)atched in view. 
 And felt his stockings were, and blacker than his 
 
 shoe ; 
 While Daniel's linen all was fine and fair, — 
 His master wore it, and he deigned to wear 
 (To wear his livery, some respect might prove ; 
 To wear his linen, must be sign of love) ; 
 Blue was his coat, unsoiled by spot or stain ; 
 His hose were silk, his shoes of Spanish grain ; 
 A silver knot his breadth of shoulder bore ; 
 A diamond buckle blazed his breast before ; 
 Diamond he swore it was, and showed it as he swore: 
 Rings on his fingers shone ; his milk-white hand. 
 Could pick-tooth case and box for snuflf command : 
 And thus, with clouded cane, a fop complete. 
 He stalked, the jest and glory of the street : 
 Joined with these powers, he could so sweetly sing, 
 Talk with such toss, and saunter with such swing ; 
 Laugh with such glee, and trifle with such art. 
 That Bridget's promise failed to shield her heart. 
 
 Roger, meantime, to ease his amorous cares. 
 Fixed his full mind upon his farm's affairs ; 
 Two pigs, a cow, and wethers half a score, 
 
 Increased his stock, and still he looked for more ; 
 
 He for his acres few so duly paid, 
 
 Ihat yet more acres to his lot were laid ; 
 
 Till our chaste nymphs no longer felt disdain. 
 
 And prudent matrons praised the frugal swain ; 
 
 Who thriving well, through many a fruitful year, 
 
 Now clothed himself anew, and acted ( 
 
 Just then poor Bridget from her friend in town 
 Fled in pure fear, and came a beggar down ; 
 Trembling, at Roger's door she knocked for bread, — 
 Was chidden first, next pitied, and then fed ; 
 Then sat at Roger's board, then shared in Rogers 
 All hope of marriage lost in her disgrace, [bed : 
 He mourns a flame revived, and she a love of lace. 
 
 T; ■ I I I :. . . [, anil mice thedame: 
 
 Aial 1' u'.i ami .-iiiijlu, a.; thty 'd always been. 
 Children from wedlock we by laws restrain ; 
 Why not prevent them when they 're such again ? 
 Why not forbid the doting souls to prove 
 The indecent fondling of preposterous love ? 
 In spite of prudence, uncontrolled by shame. 
 The amorous senior woos the toothless dame, 
 Relating idly, at the closing eve, 
 Tlir \ iiiithful follies he disdains to leave ; 
 'I ill ynullilul follies wake a transient fire, 
 \\'hi II aim in arm they totter and retire. 
 
 So two dried sticks, all fled the vital juice. 
 When rubbed and chafed, their latent heat produce ; 
 All in one part unite the cheering rays. 
 
 weather, 
 And shake their leafless heads, and drop together. 
 
 So two dead limbs, when touched by Galvin's wire. 
 Move with new life, and feel awakened fire ; 
 Quivering a while their flaccid forms remain. 
 Then turn to cold torpidity again. 
 
 ' But ever frowns your hymen ? Man and maid. 
 Are all repenting, suffering, or betrayed ?' — 
 Forbid it, love ; wo have our couples here, 
 Who hail the day, in each revolving year : 
 These are with us, as in the world around ; 
 They are not frequent, but they may be found. 
 
 Our farmers, too, what though they fail to prove. 
 In hymen's bonds, the tenderest slaves of love, — 
 Nor, like those pairs whom sentiment unites. 
 Feel they the fervor of the mind's delights, — 
 Yet coarsely kind, and comfortably gay. 
 They heap the bt ard, and hail the happy day ; 
 
AUTUMN — NOVEMBER. 
 
 373 
 
 And though the bride, now freed from sohoul, admits 
 Of pride implanted there some transient fits ; 
 Yet soon sho oasts her girlish flights aside, 
 And in substantial blessings rests her pride. 
 
 No more sho plays, no more attempts to flt 
 Hor steps, responsive to tho squeaking kit j 
 No more recites her French, tho hinds among, 
 But chides her maidens in her mother tongue ; 
 Her tambour-frame she leaves, and diet spare. 
 Plain-work and plenty with hor house to share ; 
 Till, all her varoish lost, in few short years, 
 In all her worth, the farmer's wife appears. 
 
 Vet not the ancient kind ; not she who gave 
 Her soul to gain — a mistress and a slave ; 
 Who not to sleep allowed tho needful time ; 
 To whom repose was loss, and sport a crime ; 
 Who in her meanest room (and all were mean), 
 A noisy drudge, from morn till night was seen ; — 
 But she, tho daughter, boasts a decent room, 
 Adorned with carpet formed in AVillon's loom j 
 Fair prints along the papered wall are spread ; 
 There Wcrter sees tho sportive children fed, 
 And Charlotte here bewails her lover dead. 
 
 Bl-RAL SOCIABlLrrr DBSCRIBBD. — rKJIALB ART OF TALKISO. 
 
 'T is here, assembled, while in room apart, 
 Their husbands, drinking, warm the opening heart, 
 Our neighboring dames, on festal days, unite 
 With tongues more fluent, and with hearts as light ; 
 Theirs is that art, which English wives alone. 
 And wives like these, assert and prove their own; — 
 An art it is, where each at once attends 
 To all, and claims attention from her friends ; 
 When they engage tho tongue, tho eye, the ear. 
 Reply when listening, and when speaking hear : 
 The ready converse knows no dull delays, 
 ' But double are the pains, and double be tho 
 praise.' ' 
 
 A PRCDENT, HAFPT MARRIAGE ; RRCBEN AilD RACHEL. 
 
 Yet not to those alone who bear command 
 Heaven gives a heart to hail tho marriage band ; 
 Among their servants, we tho pairs can show, 
 Who much to love and more to prudence owe : 
 Reuben and Rachel, though as fond as doves, 
 Were yet discreet and cautious in their loves ; 
 Nor sought their bliss at Cupid's wild commands, 
 Till cool reflection bade them join their hands ; 
 When both were poor, they thought it argued ill 
 Of hasty love to make them poorer still ; 
 Year after year, with savings long laid by, 
 They bought the future dwelling's full supply ; 
 Her frugal fancy culled tho smaller ware, 
 Tho weightier purchase was her Reuben's care ; 
 Together then their last year's gain they threw, 
 And, lo ! an auctioned bed, with curtains neat an 
 
 Thus both, as prudence oounsollod, wisely stayed. 
 And cheerful then the calls of love obeyed : 
 What if, when Rachel gave her hand, 'twas one 
 Embrowned by Winter's ice and Summer's sun ; 
 What if in Reuben's hair the female oyo 
 Usurping gray among tho black could spy ; 
 What if, in both, life's bloomy flush was lost, 
 And their full Autumn felt the mellowing frost ; 
 Yet time, who blowed the rose of youth away, 
 Had loft tho vigorous stem without decay ; 
 Like those tall elms in farmer Frankford's ground, 
 They '11 grow no more, — but all their growth is 
 
 sound ; 
 By time confirmed and rooted in the land, [stand. 
 Tho storms they 've stood still promise they shall 
 
 Nor these alone (though favored more) are blest; 
 In time tho rash, in time the wretched, rest ; 
 They first sad years of want and anguish know, 
 Their joys como seldom, and their pains pass slow ; 
 In health, just fed, in sickness, just relieved ; 
 By hardships harassed, and by children grieved ; 
 In potty quarrels and in peevish strife 
 The once fond couple waste the spring of life ; 
 But, when to age mature those children grown. 
 
 (Uy i..i,._,u tU,. .uWuoi, an.l llu,.,. by ,,nje). 
 And, calm in cures, with puticnce, man and wife 
 Agree to share the bitter-sweet of life 
 (Life that has sorrow much and sorrovr's cure, 
 Where they who most enjoy shall much endure); 
 Their rest, their labor, duties, sufferings, proj-crs, 
 Compose the soul, and fit it for its cares. 
 
 THE SOBER REFLECTIOS OF MATTBE RrBAL LIFE. — SBRESITY 
 IS LOOKING BACKWARD OB FOItWAItD. 
 
 Their graves before them, and their griefs behind, 
 Have each a medicine for the rustic mind ; 
 Nor has he care to whom his wealth shall go, 
 Or who shall labor with his spade and hoc ; 
 But OS he lends the strength that yet remains, 
 And some dead neighbor on his bier sustains 
 (One with whom oft ho whirled tho bounding flail. 
 Tossed the broad quoit, or took the inspiring ale): 
 *For me (he thinks) shall soon this deed be dune, 
 A few steps forward, and my race is run ; 
 'T was first in trouble, as in error past, 
 Dark clouds and stormy cares whole years o'ercast, 
 But calm my setting day, and sunshine smiles at lost: 
 My vices punished and my follies spent. 
 Not loth to die, but yet to livo content, 
 I rest : ' — then casting on tho gmvo his eye, 
 Ue gives his friend a tear, and heaves himself a 
 
RUKAL POETRY. CRABBE. 
 
 Last on my I 
 
 St appears a m 
 
 tchoflove 
 
 Andonoofviit 
 
 ir., - h.i].pv ii; 
 
 V it prove ! — 
 
 Sir Edward A,. 
 
 
 u.l;niglit, 
 
 And maidens .t 
 
 
 -Inm his sigh 
 
 His bailiff's (I;m 
 
 ^llirl -lllli .1 It 
 
 irh his taste, 
 
 For Fanny Pric 
 
 . «a. lonely a> 
 
 1 was chaste ; 
 
 To her the knight with gentle looks drew,near, 
 And timid voice, assumed to banish fear. — 
 
 ' Hope of my life, dear sovereign of my breast, 
 Which, since I knew thee, knows not joy nor rest ; 
 Know thou art all that my delighted eyes, 
 J\Iy fondest thoughts, my proudest wishes, prize ; 
 And is that bosom (what on earth so fair '!) 
 To cradle some coarse peasant's sprawling heir ? 
 To be that pillow, which some surly swain 
 May treat with scorn, and agonize with pain ? 
 Art thou, sweet maid, a ploughman's wants to share. 
 To dread his insult, to support his care ? 
 To hear his follies, his contempt to prove. 
 And (0, the torment !) to endure his love ; 
 Till want, and deep regret, those charms destroy, 
 That time would spare, for rapture to enjoy ? 
 
 ' With him, in varied pains, from morn till night. 
 Your hours shall pass ; yourself a ruffian's right ; 
 Your softest bed shall be the knotted wool ; 
 Y'our purest drink, the waters of the pool ; 
 Your sweetest food will but your life sustain ; 
 And your best pleasure be a rest from pain ; [abate. 
 While through each year, as health and strength 
 Y'ou '11 weep your woes, and wonder at your fate ; 
 And cry, '* Behold, as life's last cares come on, 
 My burthens growing, when my strength is gone." 
 - ' Now turn with me, and all the young desire, 
 That taste can form, that fancy can require ; 
 All that e,Yuites enjoyment, or procures 
 
 Wealth, health, respect, delight, and love, are yours : 
 Sparkling, in cups of gold, your wines shall flow, 
 Grace that fair hand, in that dear bosom glow ; 
 Fruits of each clime, q,nd flowers through all the year. 
 Shall on your walls and in your walks appear ; 
 Where all beholdin; -!i,ill y. m- ] i:ii=p repeat, 
 Xo fruit so temptiii- it. sweet; — 
 
 The softest carpet- ill i: Kill lie. 
 
 Pictures of happiist li n - -luill in i i your eye, 
 And tallest mirrors, readiiug to the floor, 
 .Shall show you all the object I adore ; 
 Who, by the hands of wealth and fashion dressed, 
 By shaves attended and by friends caressed. 
 Shall move, a wonder, through the public ways. 
 And hear the whispers of adoring praise. 
 
 ' Y'our female friends, though gayest of the gay, 
 Shall see you happ}', and shall, sighing, say, 
 While smothered envy rises in the breast, 
 '• 0, that we lived so beauteous and so blest ! '* 
 
 ' Come, then, my mistress and my wife : — for she 
 Who trusts my honor is the wife for me ; 
 Your slave, your husband, and your friend, employ. 
 In search of pleasures we may both enjoy.' 
 
 To this the damsel, meekly firm, replied : 
 * My mother loved, was married, toiled and died : 
 With joys she 'd griefs, had troubles in her course, 
 But not one grief was pointed by remorse ; 
 My mind is fixed, to Heaven I resign. 
 And be her love, her life, her comforts, mine.' 
 
 Tyrants have wept; and those with hearts of steel, 
 Who caused the anguish they disdained to heal, 
 Have at some time the power of virtue known, 
 I And felt another's good promote their own : 
 Our knight, relenting, now befriends the youth 
 ■Who took the maid, with innocence and truth ; 
 And finds in that fair deed a sacred joy. 
 That will not perish, and that cannot cloy ; — 
 A living joy, that shall its vigor keep. 
 When beauty all decays, and all the passions sleep. 
 
 J / 
 
 
(i^^iics for l!]oiicmiirr. 
 
 HOOD'S "AUTUJIN." 
 
 I SAW old Autumn in the misty morn 
 Stand shadowless like silence, listening 
 To silence, for no lonely bird would sing 
 Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn. 
 Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn ; — 
 Shaking his languid looks, all dewy bright 
 With tangled gossamer that fell by night. 
 Pearling his coronet of golden corn. 
 
 Where are the songs of Summer? — With the sun, 
 
 Oping the dusky eyelids of the South, 
 
 Till shade and silence waken up as one. 
 
 And Morning sings with a warm, odorous mouth. 
 
 Where are the merry birds ? — Away, away. 
 
 On panting wings through the inclement skies. 
 
 Lest owls should prey 
 
 Undazzled at noon-day, 
 And tear with horny beak their lustrous eyes. 
 
 Where are the blooms of Summer ? — In the West, 
 Blushing their last to the last sunny hours. 
 When the mild Eve by sudden Night is prest, 
 Like tearful Proserpine, snatched from her flowers 
 
 To a most gloomy breast. 
 Where is the pride of Summer, — the green prime,— 
 The many, many leaves all twii 
 On the mossed elm ; three on the naked limo 
 Trembling, — and one upon tho old oak tree ! 
 
 Where is the Dryad's immortality ? 
 Gone into mournful cypress and dark yew. 
 Or wearing the long, gloomy Winter through 
 
 In tho smooth holly's green eternity. 
 
 The squirrel gloats on his accomplished hoard, 
 Tho ants have brimmed their garners with ripe 
 And honey-bees have stored [grain, 
 
 Tho sweets of summer in their luscious cells ; 
 The swallows all have winged across tho main ; 
 But here the Autumn melancholy dwells, 
 
 And sighs her tearful spells 
 Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain. 
 Alone, olone. 
 Upon a mossy stone 
 She sits and reckons up tho dead and gone. 
 With the last leaves for a love-rosary. 
 Whilst all the withered world looks drearily, 
 Like a dim picture of the drowned past 
 
 In tho hushed mind's mysterious far away. 
 Doubtful what ghostly thing will steal the lost 
 Into that distance, gray upon the gray. 
 
 -Three 
 
 go and sit with her, and bo o'ershaded 
 
 Under the languid downfall of her hair : 
 
 She wears a coronal of flowers faded 
 
 Upon her forehead, and a face of care ; — 
 
 There is enough of withered everywhere 
 
 To make her bower, — and enough of gloom ; 
 
 There Is enough of sadness to invite 
 
 If only for the rose that died, — whose doom 
 
 Is beauty's, — she that with tho living bloom 
 
 Of conscious cheeks most beautifies the light ; - 
 
 There is enough of sorrowing, and quite 
 
 Enough of bitter fruits the earth doth bear, — 
 
 Enough of chilly droppings for her bowl ; 
 
 Enough of fear and shadowy despair, 
 
 To frame her cloudy prison for the soul ! 
 
 HERRICK'S " FARMER." 
 
 Sweet country life, to such unknown. 
 Whoso lives are others', not their own ! 
 But, serving courts and cities, be 
 Less happy, less enjoying thee. 
 Thou ncvi-v pIi>uglR-d the ocean's foam. 
 To seek ;mi.| lMi„-r..n_'l. | ..i.prr humc ; 
 
 Nortn 11p' ..: •' ll: ln'l .l"-> r^r.r. 
 
 To brill,- I, .hi ll iIm -.:.,.■'.,.,{ clove; 
 
 Nor, H-Uh till. 1,... ,,1 tlo l.ncaic--t, 
 
 Bring'st home tho ingot from tho West. 
 
 No ; thy ambition's master-piece 
 
 Flies no thought higher than a fleece ; 
 
 Or how to pay thy hinds, and clear 
 
 All scores, and so to end tho year ; 
 
 But walk'st about thy own dear grounds. 
 
 Not craving others' larger bounds ; 
 
 For well thou know'st 't is not the extent 
 
 Of land makes life, but sweet content. 
 
 When now the cock, the ploughman's horn. 
 
 Calls for tho lily-wristcd morn. 
 
 Then to thy corn-fields thou dost go, 
 
 Which, though well soiled, yet thou dost know 
 
 That the best compost for the lands 
 
 Is tho wis6 master's feet and hands. 
 
 There, at the plough, thou find'st thy team, 
 
 With a hind whistling there to them ; 
 
 And cheers them up by singing how 
 
 The kingdom's portion is the plough. 
 
 This done, then to the enamelled meads 
 
 Thou goest ; and as thy foot there treads, 
 
 Thou secst a present godlike power 
 
 Imprinted in each herb and flower ; 
 
376 
 
 RURAL POETRY. HERRICK ■ 
 
 And smell'st the breath of great-eyed kine, 
 Sweet as the blossoms of the vine. 
 Here thou behold'st thy large, sleek neat, 
 Unto the dewlaps up in meat ; 
 And as thou look'st, the wanton steer, 
 The heifer, cow, and ox, draw near. 
 To make a pleasing pastime there. 
 These seen, thou goest to view the flocks 
 Of sheep, safe from the wolf and fox ; 
 And find'st their bellies there as full 
 Of short, sweet grass, as backs with wool ; 
 And leav'st them, as they feed and fill, 
 A shepherd piping on the hill. 
 For sports, for pageantry, and plays. 
 Thou hast thy eves and holidays. 
 On which the young men and maids meet 
 To exercise their dancing feet ; 
 Tripping the comely country round, 
 With daffodils and daisies crowned. 
 Thy wakes, thy quintels, here thou hast. 
 Thy Maypoles, too, with garlands graced ; 
 Thy morrris-dance, thy Whitsun-ale, 
 Thy shearing-feast, which never fail ; 
 Thy harvest home, thy wassail-bowl, 
 That's tossed up after fox-i'-th'-hole ; 
 Thy mummeries, thy twelfth-night kings 
 And queens, thy Christmas revellings ; 
 Thy nut-brown mirth, thy russet wit, 
 And no man pays too dear for it. 
 To these thou hast thy time to go. 
 And trace the hare in treacherous snow ; 
 Thy witty wiles to draw, and get 
 
 The lark into the trammel net ; ' 
 
 Thou hast thy cock-rod and thy glade. 
 
 To take the precious pheasant made ; 
 
 The lime-twigs, snares, and pitfalls, then. 
 
 To catch the pilfering birds, not men. 
 
 0, happy life ! if thus their good 
 
 The husbandmen but understood ! 
 
 TVho all the day themselves do please. 
 
 And younglings, with such sports as these ; 
 
 And, lying down, have naught to affright 
 
 Sweet sleep, that makes more short the night. 
 
 BRYANT'S "SONNET FOR NOVEMBER." 
 
 Yet one smile more, departing distant sun ! 
 
 One mellow smile through the soft vapory air. 
 Ere o'er the frozen earth the loud winds run. 
 
 Or snows are sifted o'er the meadows bare. 
 One smile on the brown hills and naked trees. 
 
 And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are 
 
 And the blue Gentian-flower, that in the breeze 
 Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last. 
 
 Yet a few sunny days, in which the bee 
 
 Shall murmur by the hedge that skirts the way. 
 
 The cricket chirp upon the russet lea. 
 And man delight to linger in thy ray. 
 
 Yet one rich smile, and we will try to bear [air. 
 
 The piercing winter frost, and winds, and darkened 
 
 (isM- 
 
'^^.UiKips's "Ciller/ 
 
 BOOK I. ' 
 
 lire SCBJBCT i THB SOIL, CCLIl-RS AND C3B OP IDE APPLE. 
 
 What soil the apple loves, what oaro is duo 
 To orchats, timeliest when to press the fruits. 
 Thy gift, Pomona, in Miltonian verse 
 Adventurous I presume to sing ; of verso I 
 
 Nor skilled, nor studious : but my native soil 
 Invites me, and the themo as yet unsung. 
 
 niV0CATIO.V TO TOB LADIES ASD OESTLEMB> 
 
 Ye Ariconian knights, and fairest dames. 
 To whom propitious Heaven these blessings grants, 
 Attend my lays ; nor hence disdain to learn. 
 How Nature's gifts may be improved by art. 
 
 MR. IIOSTTS. 
 
 And thou, Mostyn, whoso benevolence. 
 And candor, oft experienced, me vouchsafed 
 To knit in friendship, growing still with years, 
 Accept this pledge of gratitude and love. 
 May it a lasting monument remain 
 Of dear respect ; that, when this body frail 
 Is mouldered into dust, and I become 
 As I had never been, late times may know 
 I once was blest in such a matchless friend. 
 
 TOE PROPER ASPECT FOB AN ORCHARD ; OPES TO THE WEST, 
 WITH HILLS ON TUB NORTH. 
 
 Whoe'er expects his laboring trees should bend 
 With fruitage, and a kindly harvest yield, 
 Be this his first concern ; to find a tract 
 Impervious to the winds, begirt with hills. 
 That intercept the Hyperborean blasts 
 Tempestuous, and cold Eurus" nipping force. 
 Noxious to feeble buds : but to the west 
 Let him free entrance grant, let zephyrs bland 
 Administer their tepid genial airs ; 
 Naught fear he from the west, whose gentle warmth 
 Discloses well the earth's all-teeming womb. 
 Invigorating tender seeds ; whose breath 
 Nurtures the orange, and the citron groves, 
 Hesperian fruits, and wafts their odors sweet 
 Wide through the air, and distant shores perfumes. 
 Nor only do the hills exclude the winds : [showers 
 But, when the blackening clouds in sprinkling 
 Distil, from the high summits down the rain 
 Runs trickling ; with the fertile moisture cheered, 
 The orchards smile ; joyous the farmers see 
 Their thriving plants, and bless the heavenly dew. 
 
 SOILS IMPROPER FOB AN ORCH 
 
 UIRT, OR BLACE, 
 
 Next, let the planter, with discretion meet. 
 The force and genius of each soil explore ; 
 
 To what adapted, what it shuns averse : 
 Without this necessary care, in vain 
 He hopes an apple-vintage, and invokes 
 Pomona's aid in vain. The miry fields, 
 Rejoicing in rich mould, most ample fruit 
 Of beauteous form produce ; pleasing to sight, 
 But to the tongue inelegant and flat. 
 So Nature has decreed ; so, oft we see 
 Men passing fair, in outward lineaments 
 Elaborate ; less, inwardly, exact. 
 Nor from the sable ground expect success, 
 Nor from cretaceous, stubborn and jejune : 
 The must, of pallid hue, declares the soil 
 Devoid of spirit ; wretched he, that quafls 
 Such wheyiah liquors ; oft with colic pangs, 
 With pungent colic pangs distressed, he '11 roar. 
 And toss, and turn, and curse the unwholesome 
 draught. 
 
 SOIL PROPER FOR ORCHARDS ; WHERE BYE GROWS WELL *, 
 SUCH SOILS A3 KKSTCUUBCH, SDTTON-ACRES, ETC. — 
 BTHELBERT AND OPFA. 
 
 But, farmer, look, where full-eared sheaves of rye 
 Grow wavy on the tilth, that soil select 
 For apples ; thence thy industry shall gain 
 Ten-fold reward ; thy garners, thence with store 
 Surcharged, shall burst; thy press with purest juioo 
 Shall flow, which, in revolving years, may try 
 Thy feeble feet, and bind thy faltering tongue. 
 Such is the Kentohurch, such Dantzcyan ground, 
 Such thine, learned Brome, and Capel such, 
 WillisianBurlton, much-loved Oeers his .Marsh, 
 And Sutton-acres, drenched with regal blood 
 Of Ethelbert, when to the unhallowed feast 
 Of Mercian Offa he invited came, 
 To treat of spousals : long connubial joys 
 He promised to himself, allured by fair 
 Elfrida's beauty ; but deluded died 
 In height of hopes — ! hardest fate, to fall 
 By show of friendship, and pretended love ! 
 
 ALLVSION TO THE SLIDI.SO OF MABCLET HILL. 
 
 I nor advise, nor reprehend the choice 
 Of Marcley Hill ; the apple nowhere finds 
 A kinder mould : yet 't is unsafe to trust 
 Deceitful ground : who knows but that, once more, 
 This mount may journey, and, his present site 
 Forsaking, to thy neighbors' bounds transfer 
 The goodly plants, affording matter strange 
 For law debates? If, therefore, thou incline 
 To deck this rise with fruits of various tastes. 
 Fail not by frequent vows to implore success ; 
 Thus piteous Heaven may fix the wandering globe. 
 
378 
 
 RURAL POETRY. PHILIPS. 
 
 CLAYEY AND GRAVELLY SOILS MAY B 
 
 But if (for Nature doth not share alike 
 Her gifts) an happy soil should bo withheld ; 
 If a penurious clay should be thy lot. 
 Or rough unwieldy earth, nor to the plough, 
 Nor to the cattle kind, with sandy stones 
 And gravel o'er-abounding, think it not 
 Beneath thy toil ; the sturdy pear-tree here 
 Will rise luxuriant, and with toughest root 
 Pierce the obstructing grit, and restive marl. 
 
 GROW PEARS, j Perceive his influence dire ; sweltering they run 
 
 Thus naught is useless made ; nor is there land, 
 But what, or of itself, or else compelled, 
 Affords advantage. On the barren heath 
 The shepherd tends his flock, that daily crop 
 Their verdant dinner from the mossy turf, 
 Sufficient ; after them the cackling goose, 
 Close grazer, finds wherewith to ease her want. 
 What should I more? Ev'n on the cliSy height 
 Of Penmenmaur, and that cloud-piercing hill, 
 Plinlimmon, from afar the traveller kens. 
 Astonished, how the goats their shrubby browze 
 Gnaw pendent ; nor untrembling canst thou see 
 How from a scraggy rock, whose prominence 
 Half overshades the ocean, hardy men, 
 Fearless of rending winds, and dashing waves. 
 Cut samphire, to excite the squeamish gust 
 Of pampered luxury. Then, let thy ground 
 Not lie unlabored ; if the richest stem 
 Refuse to thrive, yet who would doubt to plant 
 Somewhat, that may to human use redound, 
 And penury, the worst of ills, remove ? 
 
 There are, who, fondly studious of i 
 Rich foreign mould on their ill-natured land 
 Induce laborious, and with fattening muck 
 Besmear the roots ; in vain ! the nursling grove 
 Seems fair a while, cherished with foster earth : 
 But, when the alien compost is exhaust. 
 Its native poverty again prevails. 
 
 Tho' this art fails, despond not ; little pains, 
 In a due hour employed, great profit yield. 
 The industrious, when the sun in Leo rides, 
 And darts his sultriest beams, portending drought, 
 Forgets not at the foot of every plant 
 To sink a circling trench, and daily pour 
 A just supply of alimental streams. 
 Exhausted sap recruiting ; else, false hopes 
 He cherishes, nor will his fruit expect 
 The autumnal season, but in Summer's pride. 
 When other orchards smile, abortive fail. 
 
 Thus the great light of heaven, that in his course 
 Surveys and quickens all things, often proves 
 Noxious to planted fields, and often men 
 
 To grots, and caves, and the cool umbrage seek 
 
 Of woven arborets, and oft the rills 
 
 Still streaming fresh revisit, to allay 
 
 Thirst, inextinguishable : but if the Spring 
 
 Preceding should be destitute of rain. 
 
 Or blast septentrional with brushing wings 
 
 Sweep up the smoky mists, and vapors damp. 
 
 Then woe to mortals ! Titan then exerts 
 
 His heat intense, and on our vitals preys ; 
 
 Then maladies of various kinds, and names 
 
 Unknown, malignant fevers, and that foe 
 
 To blooming beauty, which imprints the face 
 
 Of fairest nymph, and checks our growing love. 
 
 Reign far and near ; grim death, in different shape 
 
 Depopulates the nations ; thousands fall 
 
 His victims ; youths, and virgins, in their flower, 
 
 Reluctant die, and sighing leave their loves 
 
 Unfinished, by infectious Heaven destroyed. 
 
 TRIBUTE TO MISS WIXCHCOMB. 
 
 Such heats prevailed, when fair Eliza, last 
 Of Winehcomb's name (next thee in blood,, ar 
 
 fairest St.John !) left this toilsome world 
 In beauty's prime, and saddened all the year : 
 Nor could her virtues, nor repeated vows 
 Of thousand lovers, the relentless hand 
 Of death arrest ; she with the vulgar fell, 
 Only distinguished by this humble verse. 
 
 But if it please the sun's intemperate force 
 To know, attend ; whilst I of ancient fame 
 The annals trace, and image to thy mind 
 How our forefathers (luckless men !), ingulft 
 By the wide yawning earth, to Stygian shades 
 Went quick, in one sad sepulchre enclosed. 
 
 In elder days, ere yet the Roman bands, 
 Victorious, this our other world subdued, 
 A spacious city stood, with firmest walls 
 Sure mounded, and with numerous turrets crowned, 
 Aerial spires, and citadels, the seat 
 Of kings, and heroes resolute in war, 
 Famed Ariconium ; uncontrolled, and free. 
 Till all-subduing Latian arms prevailed. 
 Then also, though to foreign yoke submiss, 
 She undemolished stood, and even till now 
 Perhaps had stood, of ancient British art 
 A pleasing monument, not less admired 
 Than what from Attic or Etruscan hands 
 Arose ; had not the heavenly powers averse 
 Decreed her final doom. 
 
 For now the fields 
 Labored with thirst, Aquarius had not shed 
 His wonted showers, and Sirius parched with heat 
 Solstitial the green herb : hence 'gan relax 
 The ground's contexture, hence Tartarean dregs, 
 
AUTUMN — NOVEMBER. 
 
 379 
 
 Sulphur, and nitrous spumo, enkindling iioroo, 
 Bellowed within their darksome caves, by far 
 More dismal than the loud-disploded roar 
 Of brazen enginery, that ceaseless storm 
 The bastion of a well-built city, deemed 
 Impregnable : th' infernal winds, till now 
 Closely imprisoned, by Titanian warmth, 
 Dilating, and with unctuous vapors fed, [strength 
 Disdained their narrow colls ; and, their full 
 Collecting, from beneath the solid mass 
 Upheaved, and all her castles rooted deep 
 Shook from their lowest scat ; old Vaga*s stream. 
 Forced by the sudden shock, her wonted track 
 Forsook, and drew her humid train aslope, 
 Crankling her banks : and now the lowering sky. 
 And baleful lightning, and the thunder, voice 
 Of angry gods, that rattled solemn, dismayed 
 The sinking hearts of men. 
 
 riTIZENS. — BARTHQUAKS. 
 
 Where should they turn 
 Distressed ? Whence seek for aid ? when from below 
 Uell threatens, and even fate supreme gives signs 
 Of wrath and desolation ? Vain wore vows. 
 And plaints, and suppliant hands, to Heaven erect ! 
 Yet some to fanes repaired, and humble rites 
 Performed to Thor, and Woden, fabled gods. 
 Who with their votaries in one ruin shared, [mood. 
 Crushed, and overwhelmed. Others, in frantic 
 Hun bowling through the streets, their hideous yells 
 Rend the dark welkin ; horror stalks around, 
 Wild-staring, and, Iiis sad concomitant. 
 Despair, of abject look : at every gate 
 The thronging populace with hasty strides 
 Press furious, and, too eager of escape. 
 Obstruct the easy way ; the rocking town 
 Supplants their footsteps ; to and fro they reel 
 Astonished, as o'er-chargod with wine ; when, lo ! 
 The ground adust her riven mouth disparts. 
 Horrible chasm ; profound ! with swift descent 
 Old Ariconium sinks, and all her tribes. 
 Heroes, and senators, down to the realms 
 Of endless night. Meanwhile, the loosened winds, 
 Infuriate, molten rocks and flaming globes 
 Hurled high above the clouds ; till, all their force 
 Consumed, her ravenous jaws th' earth satiate closed. 
 
 SOLE BEMAISS OF ARICONim ; NAME, COINS, CR.\S, BONES. 
 
 Thus this fair city fell, of which the name 
 Survives alone ; nor is there found a mark. 
 Whereby the curious passenger may learn 
 Her ample site, save coins, and mouldering urns. 
 And huge unwieldy bones, lasting remains 
 Of that gigantic race ; which, as he breaks 
 The clotted glebe, the ploughman haply finds. 
 Appalled. Upon that treacherous tract of land 
 She wbilome stood j now Ceres, in her prime. 
 Smiles fertile, and, with ruddiest freight bedeckt, 
 The applc-trec, by our fore-fathers' blood 
 Improved, that now recalls the devious Muse, 
 Urging her destined labors to pursue. 
 
 LOVKS AXD AVBBSIONS nnirEEX pLAxn. - 
 TUB IVT AMD COLBWORT, HOT LOVBS TOI 
 LOVES THB LBBK, TUB PIO, THE RUB, . 
 
 The prudent will observe what passions reign 
 In various plants (for not to man alone. 
 But all the wide creation, Knturo gave 
 Love, and aversion) : everlasting hate 
 The vine to ivy bears, nor less abhors 
 The colowort's rankness ; but, with amorous twine. 
 Clasps the tall elm : the Pa.<stan rose unfolds 
 Her bud, more lovely, near the fetid leek 
 (Crest of stout Britons), and enhances thence 
 The i)rice of her celestial scent : the gourd, 
 And thirsty cucumber, when they perceive 
 The approaching olive, with resentment fly 
 Her fatty fibres, and with tendrils creep 
 Diverse, detesting contact ; whilst the fig 
 Contemns not rue, nor sago's humble leaf, 
 Close neighboring : the Herefordian plant 
 Caresses freely the contiguous peach. 
 Hazel, and weight-resisting palm, and likes 
 T approach the quince, and th' elder's pithy stem ; 
 Uneasy, seated by funereal yew. 
 Or walnut (whose malignant touch impairs 
 All generous fraits), or near the bitter dews 
 Of cherries. Therefore, weigh the habits well 
 Of plants, how they associate best, nor let 
 111 neighborhood corrupt thy hopeful grass. 
 
 Wouldst thou thy 
 froth ? 
 Respect thy orchats 
 Spontaneous .ill ,, 
 Let art c(.rr..t ili\ i 
 A scion nurily ■ > 
 A way into tliu cuil> 
 By wedges, and wit) 
 Enclose the foster t\ 
 Refuse with thy owi 
 The binding clay : < 
 
 1 generous juicc should 
 
 .ck., i;lu.,.,-ni.,iij;ht grail 
 the living wound 
 
 hands around to spread 
 re long their dilTering veins 
 Unite, and kindly nourishment convey 
 To the new pupil ; now ho shoots his arms [trunk. 
 With quickest growth ; now shake the teeming 
 Down rain th' impurpled balls, ambrosial fruit. 
 
 REASONS WHY A CRAR-STOCK IS PRBrBRARLE. 
 
 Whether the wilding's fibres are contrived 
 To draw th' earth's purest spirit, and resist 
 Its feculence, which in more porous stocks 
 Of ciiler-pIants finds pa.«sagc free, or else 
 The native verjuice of the crab, derived 
 Through th' infixed gralf, a grateful mi.xture forms 
 Of tart and sweet ; whatever be tlio cause. 
 This doubtful progeny by nicest tastes 
 E.vpected best acecptanee finds, and pays 
 Largest revenues to the orehat-Iord. 
 
 (JDINCB-STOCKS ANn 8L0S-ST0CBS. — IN-EVLKO. 
 
 Some think the quince and apple w< 
 In happy union ; others fitter deem 
 
RURAL POETRY. — PHILIPS. 
 
 The sloe-stem bearing sylvan plums austere, [loss 
 
 Who knows but both may thrive ? Howe'er, what 
 
 To try the powers of both, and search how far 
 
 Two different natures may concur to mix 
 
 In close embraces, and strange offspring bear ? 
 
 Thou 'It find that plants will frequent changes try, 
 
 Undamaged, and their marriageable arms 
 
 Conjoin with others. So Silurian plants 
 
 Admit the peach's odoriferous globe. 
 
 And pears of sundry forms ; at different times 
 
 Adopted plums will alien branches grace ; 
 
 And men have gathered from the hawthorn's branch 
 
 Large medlars, imitating regal crowns. 
 
 MONTHLY FRCriTS. — VIBGIL : 
 
 Nor is it hard to beautify each mouth 
 With files of parti-colored fruits, that please . 
 The tongue and view, at once. So Maro's muse, 
 Thrice sacred muse ! commodious precepts gives 
 Instructive to the swains, not wholly bent 
 On what is gainful : sometimes she diverts 
 From solid counsels, shows the force of love 
 In savage beasts ; how virgin face divine [waA'es, 
 Attracts the hapless youth through storms, and 
 Alone, in deep of night : then she describes 
 The Scyllii;in uintn-, imi- di-Wain.- h, sing 
 How iiuH.r ^inuH'i i!iK iM.ir i;i|.h;r;in race 
 
 Mimic l.ri-k <V|,.|- ,Mtl, hmk-' ] liictwild; 
 
 Sloes puuiulLM-l, hipri, and tei;rvi.-i' harshest juice. 
 
 Let sage experience teach thee all the arts 
 Of grafting, and in-eying ; when to lop 
 The flowing branches ; what trees answer best 
 From root or kernel : she will best the hours 
 Of harvest and seed-time declare ; by her 
 The different qualities of things were found. 
 And secret motions ; how with heavy bulk 
 Volatile hermes, fluid and unmoist. 
 Mounts on the wings of air ; to her we owe 
 The Indian weed, unknown to ancient times, 
 Nature's choice gift, whose acrimonious fume 
 Extracts superfluous juices, and refines 
 The blood distempered from its noxious salts ; 
 Friend to the spirits, which with vapors bland 
 It gently mitigates, companion fit 
 Of pleasantry and wine ; nor to the bards 
 Unfriendly, when they to the vocal shell 
 Warble melodious their well-labored songs. 
 
 THE WONDERS OF THE MICROSCOPE. — THE FORMS OF Pl.i 
 
 She found the polished glass, whose small c 
 Enlarges to ten millions of degrees 
 The mite, invisible else, of nature's hand 
 Least animal : and shows what laws of life 
 The cheese -inhabitants observe, and how 
 Fabric their mansions in the hardened milk, 
 Wonderful artists ! But the hidden ways 
 
 Of Nature wouldst thou know ? how first she frames 
 All things in miniature ? thy specular orb 
 Apply to well-dissected kernels ; lo ! 
 Strange forms arise, m ekch a little plant 
 Unfolds its boughs : observe the slender threads 
 Of first-beginning trees, their roots, their leaves. 
 In narrow seeds described ; thou 'It wondering say 
 An inmate orchard every apple boasts. 
 Thus all things by experience are displayed, 
 And most improved. 
 
 IMPROVEMENTS EVER TO BE ASSIDnOUSLT SOtTGHT AND 
 PRACTISED } THE ADTHOR'S TOILS AND ANXIETIES. 
 
 Then sedulously think 
 To meliorate thy stock ; no way or rule 
 Be unassayed ; prevent the morning star 
 Assiduous, nor with the western sun 
 Surcease to work ; lo ! thoughtful of thy gain, 
 Not of my own, I all the live-long day 
 Consume in meditation deep, recluse 
 From human converse, nor, at shut of eve, 
 Enjoy repose ; but oft at midnight lamp 
 Ply my brain-racking studies, if by chance 
 Thee I may counsel right ; and oft this care 
 Disturbs me slumbering. Wilt thou, then, repine 
 To labor for thyself? and rather choose 
 To lie supinely, hoping Heaven will bless 
 Thy slighted fruits, and give thee bread unearned ? 
 
 THE PRUNING OF APPLE-TREES ; "IVHAT TIME THE STORK 
 
 'T will profit, when the stork, sworn foe of snakes. 
 Returns, to show compassion to thy plants. 
 Fatigued with breeding. Let the arched knife 
 Well sharpened now assail the spreading shades 
 Of vegetables, and their thirsty limbs 
 Dissever : for the genial moisture, due 
 To apples, otherwise misspends itself 
 In barren twigs, and, for the expected crop, 
 Naught but vain shoots and empty leaves abound. 
 
 When swelling buds their odorous foliage shed, 
 And gently harden into fruit, the wise 
 Spare not the little offsprings, if they grow 
 Redundant ; but the thronging clusters thin 
 By kind avulsion : else, the starveling brood, 
 Void of sufficient sustenance, will yield 
 A slender autumn ; which the nig;j;ard soul 
 Too lato shall weep, and curse his thrifty hand, 
 That would not timely ease the ponderous boughs. 
 
 It much conduces, all the cares to know 
 Of gardening ; how to scare nocturnal thieves. 
 And how the little race of birds, that hop 
 From spray to spray, scooping the costliest fruit, 
 Insatiate, undisturbed. Priapus' form 
 Avails but little ; rather guard each row 
 With the false terrors of a breathless kite. 
 This done, the timorous flock with swiftest wing 
 
AUTUMN — NOVEMBER. 
 
 381 
 
 Soud through the air ; their fiinoy represents 
 Uis mortal talons, and his ravenous beak 
 Destructive ; glad to shun his hostile gripe, 
 They quit their thefts, and unfrequout the fields. 
 
 SWISK TO IIK XKPT FIIOM TllUBS. 
 
 Besides, the filthy swine will oft invade 
 Thy firm enclosure, and with delving snout 
 The rooted forest undermine : forthwith 
 Alloo thy furious mastiff, bid him ve.x 
 The noxious herd, and print upon their ears 
 A sad memorial of their paat oftenco. 
 
 SNAILS IS THE ORCIIAKD. 
 
 The flagrant Procyon will not fail to bring 
 Largo shoals of slow, house-bearing snails, that creep 
 O'er the ripe fruitage, paring slimy tracts 
 In the sleek rinds, and unprcssed cider drink. 
 Xo art averts this pest ; on thee it lies, 
 M'ith morning and with evening hand, to rid 
 The preying reptiles ; nor, if wise, wilt thou 
 Decline this labor, which itself rewards 
 AVith pleasing gain, whilst the warm limbec draws 
 Salubrious waters from the noccnt brood. 
 
 WiSPS OS APPLB-TBBES. 
 
 iMyriads of wasps now also clustering hang, 
 And drain a spurious honey from thy groves. 
 Their winter food ; though oft repulsed, again 
 Thoy rally, undismayed : but fraud with ease 
 Ensnares the noisome swarms ; let every bough 
 Bear frequent vials, pregnant with the dregs 
 Of .Moyle, or Mum, or treacle's viscous juice ; 
 They, by the alluring odor drawn, in haste 
 Fly to the dulcet cates, and, crowding, sip 
 Their palatable bane ; joyful thou 'It see 
 The clammy surface all o'erstrewn with tribes 
 Of greedy insects, that, with fruitless toil, 
 Fhip filmy pennons oft, to extricate 
 Tlieir feet, in liquid shackles bound, till death 
 Bereave them of their worthless souls : such doom 
 Waits luxury, and lawless love of gain ! 
 
 BOT ASD WORMS I.V APPLES. — MILITARY MISBS. 
 
 Ilowc'er thou mayst forbid external force, 
 Intestine evils will prevail ; damp airs. 
 And rainy winters, to the centre pierce 
 Of firmest fruits, and by unseen decay 
 The proper relish vitiate : then the grub 
 Oft unobserved ini-ndes the vital core. 
 Pernicious tenant, and her secret oavo 
 Enlarges hourly, preying on the pulp 
 Ceaseless ; meanwhile the apple's outward form 
 Delectable the witless swoin beguiles. 
 Till, with a writhen mouth, and spattering noise, 
 He tastes the bitter morsel, and rejects 
 Disrelished ; not with the less surprise, than when 
 Embattled troops with flowing banners pass 
 Through flowery meads delighted, nor distrust 
 The smiling surface ; whilst the caverned ground. 
 With grain incentive stored, by sudden blaze 
 Bursts fatal, and involves the hopes of war 
 
 In flery whirls ; full of viotorious thoughts, 
 Torn and dismembered, they aloft expire. 
 
 THK PIPPLS ; MOILB ; PKRVAIS ; OTTLBY ; KLIOT ; JOHS- 
 APPLK ; irAKVET -, TmUPT ; OODLINO ; POMROY ; BDS3BT ; 
 CAT's-HKAD. 
 
 Now turn thine eye to view Alcinous' Groves, 
 The pride of the Phicacian isle, from whence, 
 Sailing the spaces of the boundless deep. 
 To Arioonium precious fruits arrived : 
 The Pippin burnished o'er with gold, the Moile 
 Of sweetest honeyed taste, the fair Permain, 
 Tempered, like comeliest nymph, witli red and white. 
 Sabjpian acres flourish with a growtli 
 Peculiar, styled the Ottley : be lli.iii first 
 Tills apple to transplant ; if to the n.imo 
 Its merit answers, nowhere shalt tliou find 
 A wine more prized, or laudable of taste. 
 Nor does the Eliot least deserve thy earc, 
 Nor John-apple, whose withered rind, intrenched 
 With many a furrow, aptly represents 
 Decrepid age ; nor that from Harvey named, 
 Quick-relishing : why should we sing the Thrift, 
 Codling, or Pomroy, or of pimpled coat 
 The Russet, or the Cat's-head's weighty orb, 
 Enormous in its growth ; for various use 
 Though these are meet, though after full repast 
 Are oft required, and crown the rich dessert ? 
 
 PEAR-TREBS A GOOD 
 
 PEARJTBEBS; TBI! 
 
 What though the pear-tfeo rival not the worth 
 Of Arieonian products ? yet her freight 
 Is not contemned, yet her wide-branching arms 
 Best screen thy mansion from tlie fervent Dng 
 Adverse to life ; the wintry hurricanes 
 In vain employ their roar, her trunk unmoved 
 Breaks the strong onset, and controls their rage. 
 Chiefly the Bosbury, whose largo increase, 
 -Annual, in sumptuous banquets claims applause. 
 Thrice acceptable beyerage ! could but art 
 Subdue the floating lee, Pomona's self 
 Would dread thy praise, and shun the dubious strife. 
 Be it thy choice, when Summer heats annoy, 
 To sit beneath her leafy canopy. 
 Quaffing rich liquids ; ! how sweet to enjoy 
 At once her fruits and hospitable shade ! 
 
 But how with equal numbers shall we match 
 The Musk's surpassing worth ! tluit i-urliest gives 
 Sure hopes of raey wiii> , ml iii li - nili, 
 Its tender nonage, IimI lii i i : i. pughs 
 With large and juicy .1 n ■ 
 
 The vernal nipping?, mh I 11 - 1. i il Kindts ! 
 Yet let her to the Red-streak yield, that onoe 
 Was of the sylvan kind, uncivilized. 
 Of no regard, till Scudamore's skilful hand 
 Improved her, and by courtly discipline 
 Taught her the savage nature to forget : 
 Uence styled the Scudamorean plant ; whoso wine 
 
RURAL POETRY. — PHILIPS. 
 
 Whoever tastes, let him with grateful heart 
 Respect that ancient loyal house, and wish 
 The noble peer, that now transcends our hope; 
 In early worth, his country's justest pride, 
 Uninterrupted joy, and health entire. 
 
 Let every tree in every garden own 
 The Red-streak as supreme ; whose pulpous fruit 
 'With gold irradiate, and vermilion, shines 
 Tempting, not fatal, as the birth of that 
 Primeval, interdicted plant, that won 
 Fond Eve in hapless hour to taste, and die. 
 This, of more bounteous influence, inspires 
 Poetic raptures, and the lowly muse 
 Kindles to loftier strains ; even I perceive 
 Her sacred virtue. Sec ! the numbers flow 
 Easy, whilst, cheered with her nectareous juice, 
 Hers and my country's praises I exalt. 
 Hail Herefordian plant, that does disdain 
 All other fields ! Heaven's sweetest blessing, hail ! 
 Be thou the copious matter of my song, 
 And thy choice nectar ; on which always waits 
 Laughter, and sport, and care-beguiling wit, 
 And friendship, chief delight of human life. 
 What should we wish for more ? or why, in quest 
 Of foreign vintage, insincere, and mixed, 
 Traverse the extremest world ? Why tempt the rage 
 Of the rough ocean ? when our native glebe 
 Imparts, from bounteous womb, annual recruits 
 Of wine delectable, that far surmounts 
 Gallic or Latin grapes, or those that see 
 The setting sun near Calpe's towering height. 
 
 Nor let the Rhodian, nor the Lesbian vines, 
 Vaunt their rich must, nor let Tokay contend 
 For sovereignty ; Phanaeus* self must bow 
 To the Ariconian vales : and shall we doubt 
 To improve our vegetable wealth, or let 
 The soil lie idle, which, with fit manure, 
 Will largest usury repay, alone 
 Empowered to supply what nature asks 
 Frugal, or what nice appetite requires ? 
 The meadows here, with battening ooze enriched, 
 Give spirit to the grass ; three cubits high 
 The jointed herbage shoots ; the unfallowed glebe 
 Yearly o'ercomes the granaries with store 
 Of golden wheat, the strength of human life. 
 Lo, on auxiliary poles, the hops, 
 Ascending spiral, ranged in meet array ! 
 Lo, how the arable with barley grain 
 Stands thick, o'ershadowed, to the thirsty hind 
 Transporting prospect ! These, as modem use 
 Ordains, infused, an auburn drink compose. 
 Wholesome, of deathless fame. Here, to the sight, 
 Apples of price, and plenteous sheaves of corn. 
 Oft interlaced occur, and both imbibe 
 Fitting congenial juice ; so rich the soil, 
 So much does fructuous moisture o'er-abound ! 
 
 - Nor are the hills unamiable, whose tops 
 To heaven aspire, afEording prospect sweet 
 To human ken ; nor at their feet the vales 
 Descending gently, where the lowing herd 
 Chews verdurous pasture ; nor the yellow fields 
 Gayly interchanged, with rich variety, 
 Pleasing, as when an emerald green, enchased 
 In flamy gold, from the bright mass acquires 
 A nobler hue, more delicate to sight. 
 Next add the sylvan shades, and silent groyes, 
 Haunt of the Druids, whence the hearth is fed 
 With copious fuel ; whence the sturdy oak, 
 A prince's refuge once, the eternal guard 
 Of England's throne, by sweating peasants felled. 
 Stems the vast main, and bears tremendous war 
 To distant nations, or with sovereign sway 
 Awes the divided world to peace and love. 
 Why should the Chalybes or Bilboa boast 
 Their hardened iron ; when our mines produce 
 As perfect martial ore ? Can Tmolus' head 
 Vie with our safiron odors ? or the fleece 
 Bsetic, or finest Tarentine, compare 
 With Lemster's silken wool ? 
 
 Men more undaunted, l^^v ili. i, . ,,niin_\'s weal 
 More prodigal of life ? In ancient days, 
 The Roman legions and great Ctesar found 
 Our fathers no mean foes : and Cressy plains, 
 And Agincourt, deep-tinged with bloo<l, confess 
 What the Silures' vigor unwithstood 
 Could do in rigid fight ; and chiefly what 
 Brydges' wide-wasting hand, first gartered knight, 
 Puissant author of great Chandos' stem. 
 High Chandos, that transmits paternal worth. 
 Prudence, and ancient prowess, and renown, 
 To his noble offspring. thrice happy peer ! 
 That, blest with hoary vigor, view'st thyself 
 Fresh blooming in thy generous son ; whose lips, 
 Flowing with nervous eloquence exact. 
 Charm the wise senate, and attention win 
 In deepest councils : Ariconium, pleased. 
 Him, as her chosen worthy, first salutes. 
 Him on the Iberian, on the Gallic shore. 
 Him hardy Britons bless ; his faithful hand 
 Conveys new courage from afar, uur more 
 The general's conduct than his care avails. 
 
 Thee also, glorious branch of Cecil's line, 
 This country claims ; with pride and joy to thee 
 Thy Alterennis calls : yet she endures 
 Patient thy absence, since thy prudent choice 
 Has fixed thee in the muse's fairest seat, 
 Where Aldrich reigns, and from his endless store 
 Of universal knowledge still supplies 
 His noble care ; he generous thoughts instils 
 
AUTUMN — NOVEMBER. 
 
 Of true nobility, their country 8 love 
 
 (Chief end of life), and forms their ductile minds 
 
 To human virtues : by his genius led, 
 
 Thou soon in every art preeminent 
 
 Shalt grace this isle, and rise to Burleigh's fame. 
 
 Hail, high-born peer! And thou, great nurse of arta, 
 And men, from whence conspicuous patriots spring, 
 Ilanmer, and Bromley ; thou, to whom with due 
 Respect Wintonia bows, ond joyful owns 
 Thy mitred offspring ; bo forever blest 
 With like examples, and to future times, 
 Proficuous,' such a race of men produce, 
 As, in the cause of virtue firm, may fix 
 Her throne inviolate. Hear, ye gods, this vow 
 From one, the meanest in her numerous train ; 
 Though meanest, not least studious of her praise. 
 
 Muse, raise thy voice to Beaufort's spotless fi 
 To Beaufort, in a long descent derived 
 From royal ancestry, of kingly righta 
 Faithful asserters : in him centring meet 
 Their glorious virtues, high desert from pride 
 Disjoined, unshaken honor, and contempt 
 Of strong allurements. 0, illustrious prince ! 
 0, thou of ancient faith ! E.xulting, thee 
 In her fair list this happy land inrolls. 
 
 Who can refuse a tributary verso 
 To Weymouth, firmest friend of slighted worth 
 Tn evil days ? whoso hospitable gate, 
 I'nbarred to all, invites a numerous train 
 Of daily gne?t?; whose board, with plenty crowned, 
 Rcvivr- till iV;i t-iih^ . .M : racanwhilc hls caro 
 Kor^'.t- II ' 1' ■ I I.I ii I, Init, content 
 In a<t- .1 ' 1 L ii • -. shuns the praise. 
 That -uri 111. 11. 1- I', rniit me, bounteous lord, 
 To blazon what though hid will beauteous shine ; 
 And with thy name to dignify my song. 
 
 ROBEHT H.VRI.Er. 
 
 But who is he, that on the winding stream 
 Of "V'aga fir.st drew vital breath, and now 
 Ajiproved iu Anna's secret councils sits. 
 Weighing the sum of things, with wise forecast 
 Solicitous of public good 7 How large 
 His mind, that comprehends whato'er was known 
 To old, or present time"; yet not elate, 
 Xot conscious of its skill ? What praiso deserves 
 His liberal hand, that gathers but to give. 
 Preventing suit ? 0, not unthankful muse, 
 Him lowly reverence, that first deigned to hear 
 Thy pipe,and screened theefrom opprobrious tongues. 
 Acknowledge thy own Horley, and his name 
 Inscribe on every bark ; the wounded plants 
 Will fast increase, faster thy just respect. 
 
 The female sex, with sweet attractive airs, 
 Subdue obdurate hearts. The travellers oft, 
 That view their matchless forms with transient 
 
 glance, 
 Catch sudden love, and sigh for nymphs unknown, 
 Smit with the magic of their eyes : nor hath 
 The DoKlal hand of nature only poured 
 Her gifts of outward grace ; their innocence 
 Unfeigned, and virtue most engaging, free 
 From pride, or artifice, long joys afford 
 To the honest nuptial bed, and in the wane 
 Of life rebate the miseries of age. 
 
 Such are our heroes, by their virtues known. 
 Or skill in peace and war : of softer mould, 
 
 And is there found a wretch, so base of mind, 
 That woman's powerful beauty dares condemn, 
 E.\actest work of heaven ? He ill deserves 
 Or love, or pity ; friendless let him see 
 Uneasy, tedious days, despised, forlorn. 
 As stain of human voce : but may the man, 
 That cheerfully recounts the females' praise, 
 Find equal love, and love's untainted sweets 
 Enjoy with honor. 0, ye gods ! might I 
 Elect my fate, my happiest choice should bo 
 A fair and modest virgin, that invites 
 With aspect chaste, forbidding loose desire, 
 Tenderly smiling ; in whose heavenly eye 
 Sits purest love enthroned : but if the stars 
 Malignant these my better hopes oppose, 
 May I, at least, the sacred pleasure know 
 Of strictest amity ; nor ever want 
 A friend, with whom I mutually may share 
 Gladness, and anguish, by kind intercourse 
 Of speech and offices. 
 
 THE LiDV TREVOR J TOE iCTBOR'S FHIE.ND IS SICKS>2SS. 
 
 May in my mind 
 Indelible a grateful sense remain 
 Of favors undeserved ! — thou ! from whom 
 Gladly both rich and low seek aid ; most wise 
 Interpreter of right, whose gracious voice 
 Breathes equity, and curbs too rigid law 
 With mild, impartial reason ; what returns 
 Of thanks are due to thy beneficence 
 Freely vouchsafed, when to the gates of death 
 I tended prone ? If thy indulgent care 
 Had not prevened, among unbodied shades 
 I now had wandered ; and these empty thoughts 
 Of apples perished : but, upraised by thee, 
 I tune my pipe afresh, each night and day. 
 Thy unexampled goodness to extol 
 Desirous ; but nor night nor day suffice 
 For that great task ; the highly honored name 
 Of Trevor must employ my willing thoughts 
 Incessant, dwell forever on my tongue. 
 
 THE STCOPHJJiT ANO BTPOCRrTE DESOISCED. 
 
 Let me be grateful, but let far from me 
 Be fawning cringe, and false, dissembling look, 
 And servile flattery, that harbors oft 
 In courts and gilded roofs. Some loose the bands 
 
384 
 
 RURAL POETRY. PHILIPS. 
 
 Of ancient friendship, cancel Nature's laws 
 
 For pageantry, and tawdry gewgaws. Some 
 
 Renounce their sires, oppose paternal right 
 
 For rule and power; uud others' realms invade. 
 
 With specious shows of love. This traitorous wretch 
 
 Betrays his sovereign. Others, destitute 
 
 Of real zeal, to every altar bend, 
 
 By lucre swayed, and act the basest things 
 
 To be styled honorable. 
 
 The honest man. 
 Simple of heart, prefers inglorious want 
 To ill-got wealth ; rather from door to door 
 A jocund pilgrim, though distressed, he '11 rove, 
 Than break his plighted faith ; nor fear, nor hope, 
 AVill 'lii .!- hi t. ulti.f soul ; rather debarred 
 EiU'li ■ ■ I . :i , . I .. , Lut off from hopes 
 Ofiii' I' ' I I I I '-flit goods despoiled, 
 
 He'll liiii i!m II,, 1 1 . ,,r infamy, contemned, 
 Unpiticd ; yit his luinil, of evil pure, 
 Supports him, and intention free from fraud. 
 If no retinue with observant eyes 
 Attend him, if he can't with purple stain 
 Of cumbrous vestments, labored o'er with gold. 
 Dazzle the crowd, and set them all agape ; 
 Yet clad in homely weeds, from envy's darts 
 Remote he lives, nor knows the nightly pangs 
 Of conscience, nor with spectres' grisly forms. 
 Demons, and injured souls, at close of day 
 Annoyed, sad interrupted slumbers finds. 
 But (as a child, whose inexperienced age 
 Nor evil purpose fears, nor knows) enjoys 
 Night's sweet refreshment, humid sleep, sincere. 
 
 WITHOUT EVIL-SPEAKISO OR ILL THOUGHTS OF OTHERS. ' 
 
 When Chanticleer, with clarion shrill, recalls 
 The tardy day, he to his labors hies 
 Gladsome, intent on somewhat that may ease 
 Unhealthy mortals, and with curious search 
 Examines all the ]irnpfrties nf herbs. 
 Fossils, and iiiiiin:,!^, t|,;,i (h,. , n.bowelled earth 
 Displays, if by hi- iii,|ii-ii y li, run 
 Ben'fit the hum;in nicr : ui c !,-,■ his thoughts 
 Are exercised with speculations deep 
 Of good, and just, and meet, and the wholesome rules 
 Of temperance, and aught that may improve 
 The moral life ; not sedulous to rail. 
 Nor with envenomed tongue to blast the fame 
 Of harmless me 
 
 And how to improve his grounds, and how himself 
 Best poet ! fit exemplar for the tribe 
 Of Phoebus, nor less fit Maoniiles, 
 Poor, eyeless pilgrim ! and if after these. 
 If after these another I may name, 
 Thus tender Spenser lived, with mean repast 
 Content, depressed by penury, and pined 
 In foreign realm : yet not debased his verse 
 By fortune's frowns. And had that other bard, 
 0, had but he that first ennobled sung 
 With holy raptures, like his Abdiel been ; 
 'Mong many faithless, strictly faithful found ; 
 Unpiticd, he should not have wailed his orbs. 
 That rolled in vain to find the piercing ray 
 And found no dawn, by dim suffusion veiled ! 
 But he — however, let the muse abstain, 
 Nor blast his fame, from whom she learnt to sing 
 In much inferior strains, grovelling beneath 
 The Olympian hill, on plains and vales intent, 
 IVIean follower. There let her rest a while, 
 Pleased with the fragrant walks, and cool retreat. 
 
 )K II. 
 
 HARCOL'RT, ABSEST LS 
 
 Hareourt, whom the ingenuous love of 
 
 cret whispers spread, 
 'Mong faithful friends, to breed distrust and hate. 
 Studious of virtue, he no life observes 
 Except his own, his own employs his cares. 
 Large subject ! that he labors to refine 
 Daily, nor of his little stock denies 
 Fit alms to Lazars, merciful, and meek. 
 
 Thus sacred Virgil lived, from courtly vice 
 And baits of pompous Rome secure ; at court 
 Still thoughtful of the rural honest life, 
 
 Has carried from thy native soil, beyond 
 The eternal Alpine snows, and now detains 
 In Italy's waste realms, how long must we 
 Lament thy absence ? Whilst in sweet sojourn 
 Thou view'st the relics of old Rome ; or what 
 Unrivalled authors by their presence made 
 Forever venerable, rural seats, 
 Tibur, and Tusculum, or Virgil's urn 
 Green with immortal bays, which haply thou, 
 Respecting his great name, dost now approach 
 With bended knee, and strew with purple flowers ; 
 Unmindful of tliy friends, that ill can brook 
 This long delay. At length, dear youth, return, 
 Of wit and judgment ripe in blooming years. 
 And Britain's isle with Latian knowledge graee. 
 Return, and let thy father's worth excite 
 Thirst of preeminence ; see ! how the cause 
 Of widows and of orphans he asserts 
 With winning rhetoric and well-argued law ! 
 Mark well his footsteps, and, like him, deserve 
 Thy prince's favor, and thy country's love. 
 
 DEDICiTIO.V TO HABCOlJnT. — CIOEB. 
 
 Meanwhile (although the Massic grape delights, 
 Pregnant of racy juice, and Formian hills 
 Temper thy cups, yet) wilt not thou reject 
 Thy native liquors : lo ! for thee my mill 
 Now grinds choice apples, and the British vats 
 O'erflow with generous cider ; far remote 
 Accept this labor, nor despise the muse, 
 That, passing lands and seas, on thee attends. 
 
 Thus far of trees : the pleasing task remains, 
 To sing of wines, and Autumn's blest iuerease. 
 
AUTUMN — NOVEMBER. 
 
 Tlio cffocts of art are shown, yot what avails 
 'Gainst hcavon ? Oft, notwithstanding all thy care 
 To help thy plants, when the small fruitory soems 
 Exempt from ills, an orient Blast 
 Disastrous flies, soon as the hinil, fatigued, 
 Unyokes his team ; tlio tender freight, unskilled 
 To bear the hot disease, distempered pines 
 In tho year's prime, the deadly plague annoys 
 Tho mde enclosure ; think not vainly now 
 To treat thy neighbors with mellifluous cups, 
 Thus disappointed : if tho former years 
 Exhibit no supplies, alas ! thou must 
 With tasteless water wash thy droughty throat. 
 
 A thousand accidents the farmer's hopes 
 Subvert or check ; uncertain all his toil. 
 Till lusty Autumn's lukewarm days, allayed 
 With gentle colds, insensibly oonfurm 
 His ripening labors : Autumn to tho fruits 
 Earth's various lap produces vigor gives 
 Equal, intenerating milky grain, 
 Berries, and sky-dyed plums, and what in coat 
 Rough, or soft rind, or bearded husk, or shell ; 
 Fat olives, and Pistacio's fragrant nut. 
 And the pine's tasteful apple ; Autumn paints 
 Ausonian hills with grapes, whilst English plaii 
 Blush with pomaceous harvests, breathing swcei 
 
 let mo now, when the kind early dew 
 I'nlocks tho embosomed odors, walk among 
 T!io well-ranged files of trees, whose full-aged stores 
 IHtTuse ambrosial steams, than myrrh or nard 
 Jloro grateful, or perfuming flowery bean ! 
 Soft whispering airs, and the lark's matin song. 
 Then woo to musing, and becalm the mind 
 Perplexed with irksome thoughts. Thrice happy time, 
 Best portion of the various year, in which 
 Nature rejoiceth, smiling on her works 
 Lovely, to full perfection wrought ! but, ah, 
 Short arc our joys, and neighboring griefs disturb 
 Our pleasant hours. 
 
 APPLB-OATUEKl.NQ. 
 
 Inclement Winter dwells 
 Contiguous ; forthwith frosty blasts deface 
 The blithesome year : trees of their shrivelled fruits 
 Are widowed, dreary storms o'er all prevail. 
 Now, now 's the time ; ere hasty suns forbid 
 To work, disburthon thou thy sapless wood 
 Of its rich progeny ; the turgid fruit 
 Abounds with mellow liquor ; now oihort 
 Thy hinds to exercise tho pointed steel 
 On the hard rock, and give a whooly form 
 To tho expected grinder. 
 
 THE aDBB-MILL ; nOW TO MAKB n ; TOE STBiHEK. 
 
 Now prepare 
 Materials for thy mill, a sturdy post 
 Cylindric, to support the grinder's weight 
 Excessive, and a llcxilo sallow, intrenched. 
 
 49 
 
 Rounding, capacious of tho juicy hordo. 
 Nor mu«t thou not bo mindful of thy press 
 Long ere tho vintage ; but with timely care 
 Shave tho goat's shaggy beard, lest thou too late 
 In vain shouldst seek a strainer, to dispart 
 Tho husky, terrene dregs, from purer must. 
 
 Be cautious next a proper steed to find. 
 Whose prime is past ; tho vigorous horse disdains 
 Such servile labors, or, if forced, forgets 
 His past achievements, and victorious palms. 
 Blind Bayard rather, worn with work and years. 
 Shall roll the unwieldy stone ; with sober paco 
 He 'II tread the circling path till dewy eve. 
 From early day-spring, pleased to find his age 
 Declining, not unuseful to his lord. 
 
 HOW TO DISPOSE OF THE APPLE-cnEESE ; FOB A SECOND 
 PBESSISO i FOR UANCRE. 
 
 Some, when tho press, by utmost vigor screwed, 
 Has drained tho pulpous mass, regale their swine 
 With tho dry refuse ; thou, more wise, shalt steep 
 Thy husks in water, and again employ 
 Tho ponderous engine. Water will imbibe 
 The small remains of spirit, and acquire 
 A vinous flavor ; this the peasants blithe 
 Will quaff, and whistle, as thy tinkling team 
 They drive, and sing of Fusca's radiant eyes, 
 Pleased with the medley draught. Nor shalt thou now 
 Reject the apple-cheese, though quite exhaust ; 
 Even now 'twill cherish and improve the roots 
 Of sickly plants ; new vigor hence conveyed 
 Will yield an harvest of unusual growth. 
 Such profit springs from husks discreetly used ! 
 
 The tender apples, from their parents rent, 
 By stormy shocks must not neglected lie, 
 Tho prey of worms : a frugal man I knew, 
 Rich in one barren acre, which, subdued 
 By endless culture, with sufficient must 
 His casks replenished yearly : he no more 
 Desired, nor wanted, diligent to learn 
 The various seasons, and by skill repol 
 Invading pests, successful in his cares. 
 Till the dump Libyan wind, with tempests armed 
 Outrageous, blustered horrible amidst 
 His cider-grove : o'erturned by "furious blasts, 
 The sightly ranks fall prostrate, and around 
 Their fruitage scattered, from the genial boughs 
 Stript immature : yet did he not repine. 
 Nor ourso his stars ; but, prudent, bis fallen heaps 
 Collecting, cherished with the tepid wreaths 
 Of tedded grass, and tho sun's mellowing beams 
 Rivalled with artful heats, and thenco procured 
 A costly liquor, by improving time 
 Equalled with what the happiest vintage bears. 
 
 CIDER SOI TO BE IDCLIERilED, SOR FORCED BV BOIUSO. 
 
 But this I warn thee, and shall alway warn, 
 No heterogeneous mixtures use, as some 
 
386 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 With watry turnips have debased tlieir wines, 
 
 Too frugal ; nor let the crude humors dance 
 
 In heated brass, steaming with fire intense ; 
 
 Although Devonia much commends the use 
 
 Of strengthening Vulcan ; with their native strength 
 
 Thy wines sufficient other aid refuse ; 
 
 And, when the allotted orb of time's complete, 
 
 Are more commended than the labored drinks. 
 
 TITHES. — THE DANGER OF WITHHOLDING THEM ; FATE OF A 
 
 Nor let thy avarice tempt thee to withdraw 
 The priest's appointed share ; with cheerful heart 
 The tenth of thy increase bestow, and own 
 Heaven's bounteous goodness, that will sure repay 
 Thy grateful duty : this neglected, fear 
 Signal avengeance, such as overtook 
 A miser, that unjustly once withheld 
 The clergy's due ; relying on himself. 
 His fields he tended with successless care, 
 Early and late, when or unwished-for rain 
 Descended, or unseasonable frosts 
 Curbed his increasing hopes, or when around 
 The clouds dropt fatness, in the middle sky 
 The dew suspended staid, and left unmoist 
 His execrable glebe : recording this. 
 Be just, and wise, and tremble to transgress. 
 
 Learn now, the promise of the coming year 
 To know, that by no flattering signs abused, 
 Thou wisely mayst provide : the various moon 
 Prophetic, and attendant stars, explain 
 Each rising dawn ; ere icy crusts surmount 
 The current stream, the heavenly orbs serene 
 Twinkle with trembling rays, and Cynthia glows 
 With light unsullied : now the fowler, warned 
 By these good omens, with swift early steps [glades 
 Treads the crimp earth, ranging through fields and 
 Ofi'ensive to the bird?, snlphurenus death 
 Checks their mid fIi:l,f,;uM 1,. .;i. ..while they strain 
 Their tuneful tlirn;u , ii„ i,,„, , „,„., l,„„vy lead 
 O'ertakes their s|i . I i . '. I ln-ir little lives 
 Above the clou, is in. >i|,ii.i,ii i,, rarth. 
 
 EARLY, IT FORETELLS PLBNTy. 
 
 The woodcock's early visit, and abode 
 Of long continuance in our temperate clime. 
 Foretell a liberal harvest ; he of times 
 Intelligent, the harsh Hyperborean ice 
 Shuns for our equal winters ; when our suns 
 Cleave the chilled soil, he backward wings his way 
 To Scandinavian frozen summers, meet 
 For his numbed blood. 
 
 SNOW AS A FERTILIZER ; NITRE. 
 
 But nothing profits more 
 Than frequent snows : 0, mayst thou often see 
 Thy furrows whitened by the woolly rain. 
 Nutritious ! secret nitre lurks within 
 The porous wet, quickening the languid glebe. 
 
 Sometimes thou shalt with fervent vows implore 
 A moderate wind ; the orchard loves to wave 
 With winter winds, before the germs exert 
 Their feeble heads ; the loosened roots then drink 
 Large increment, earnest of happy years. 
 
 Nor will it nothing profit to observe 
 The monthly stars, their powerful influence 
 O'er planted fields, what vegetables reign 
 Under each sign. On our account has Jove, 
 Indulgent, to all moons some succulent plant 
 Allotted, that poor, helpless man might slack 
 His present thirst, and matter find for toil. 
 Now will the corinths, now the rasps supply 
 Delicious draughts ; the quinces now, or plums. 
 Or cherries, or the fair Thisbeian fruit. 
 Are prest to wines ; the Britons squeeze the works 
 Of sedulous bees, and mixing odorous herbs 
 Prepare balsamic cups, to wheezing lungs 
 Medicinal, and short-breathed ancient sires. 
 
 DRINKS MADE FROM BIRCH, COWSLIPS, ETC. 
 
 But, if thou 'rt indefatigably bent 
 To toil, and omnifarious drinks wouldst brew ; 
 Besides the orchard, every hedge and bush 
 Affords assistance ; even afflictive birch. 
 Cursed by unlettered, idle youth, distils 
 A limpid current from her wounded bark. 
 Profuse of nursing sap. When solar beams 
 Parch thirsty human veins, the damasked meads 
 Unforced display ten thousand painted flowers 
 Useful in potables. Thy little sons 
 Permit to range the pastures ; gladly they 
 Will mow the cowslip-posies, faintly sweet. 
 From whence thou artificial wines shalt drain 
 Of icy taste, that, in mid fervors, bust 
 Slack craving thirst, and mitigate the day. 
 
 Happy Icrnr-, wl 
 Poisons en; rii..inr 
 The baleful b i . 
 Morchapp; n 
 With miscdhuiu„u 
 For thirst-abating 
 Extend her fame, and 
 
 .n-lits (enriched 
 id the root 
 praised), which wide 
 each drooping heart 
 
 Present redress,^ and lively health convey. 
 
 See, how the Beige, sedulous, and stout, 
 With bowls of fat'ning mum, or blissful cups 
 Of Kernell-relishcd fluids, the fair star 
 Of early Phosphorous salute, at noon 
 Jocund with frequent-rising fumes ! by use 
 Instructed, thus to quell their native phlegm 
 Prevailing, and engender wayward mirth. 
 
 1 Relief. 
 
AUTUMN — NOVEMBER. 
 
 387 
 
 THE iBCnC 80.VB i ITS SRI.VK9 ; FITCDOIU ; BRANDY. 
 
 What nood to treat of distant climos, removed 
 Far from the sloping journey of the year, 
 lieyond Pe(«ora, and Icelandic coast«7 
 Where cver-during snows, perpetual shades 
 Of darkness, would congeal their livid blood, 
 Did not the Arctic tract spontaneous yield 
 A cheering purple berry, big with wine. 
 Intensely fervent, which each hour they crave, 
 Spread round a flaming pile of pines ; and oft 
 They interlard their native drinks with choice 
 Of strongest brandy ; yet scarce with these aids 
 Enabled to prevent the sudden rot 
 Of freezing nose, and quick-decaying feet. 
 
 TDK TROPICS ; THE NILK ; CKVLO.S ; DOBXKO j BIM ; ABRAK. 
 
 Nor less the sable borderers of Nile, 
 Nor who Taprobane manure, nor they 
 Whom sunny Borneo bears, are stored with streams 
 Egregious, rum, and rice's spirit extract. 
 Tor here, exposed to perpendicular rays. 
 In vain they covet shades, and Thrascias" gales, 
 Pining with equinoctial heat, unless 
 The cordial glass perpetual motion keep, 
 Quick circuiting ; nor dare they close their eyes. 
 Void of a bulky charger near their lips, 
 With which, in often interrupted sleep. 
 Their frying blood compels to irrigate 
 Their dry-furred tongues, else minutely to death 
 Obnoxious, dismal death, the effect of drought ! 
 
 THE WEST ISDIA DBISKS ; LKMOXABE i rfXCH ; IMBIBED BY 
 
 More happy they, bom in Columbus' world, 
 Caribbees, and they whom the cotton plant 
 Witb downy-sprouting vcst.< arrays ! Their woods 
 Bow with prodigious nuts, that give at once 
 Celestial food and nectar j then, at hand 
 The Lemon, uncorrupt with voyage Ion", 
 To vinous spirits added (heavenly drink !), 
 They with pneumatic engine ceaseless draw, 
 Intent on laughter ; a continual tide 
 Flows from the exhilarating fount. As, when 
 Against a secret cliff with soddain shock 
 A ship is dashed, and leaking drinks the sea, 
 The astonished mariners aye ply the pump, 
 No stay, nor rest, till the wide breach is closed : 
 .^o they (but cheerful) unfatigued, still move 
 The draining sucker, then alone concerned, 
 AVhen the dry bowl forbids their pleasing work. 
 
 now TO SEASON CIDSB, AND now LONO. 
 
 But if to hoarding thou art bent, thy hopes 
 Arc frustrate, shouldst thou think thy pipes will flow 
 With early limpid wine. The hoarded store. 
 And the harsh draught, must twice endure the sun's 
 Kind strengthening heat, twice Winter's purging 
 cold. 
 jnxcLixa OF tabiocs ciders. — toe rainbow. 
 There are, that a compounded fluid drain 
 From different mixtures. Woodcock, Pippin, Moile, 
 
 Rough Eliot, sweet Permain ; the blended streams 
 
 (Each mutually correcting each) create 
 
 A pleasurable medley, of what tasto 
 
 Hardly distinguished ; as the showery nrcli. 
 
 With lifted colors gay. Or, Azure, (lules, 
 
 Ileliglits, and puzzles the beholder's eye, 
 
 That views the watery brede, with thousand shows 
 
 Of pninturo varied, yet's unskilled to tell 
 
 Or where one color rises, or one faints. 
 
 VABIETV I.V TBE FLAVOR OF CIDER ; MALAGA ■, COAMPJGNE ; 
 noCK. 
 
 Some ciders have by art, or age, unlearned 
 Their genuine relish, and of sundry vines 
 As.'iumcd the flavor : one sort counterfeits 
 The Spanish product ; this, to Gauls has seemed 
 
 The I :iri;lir,_' i,, < t.r of Champagne ; with that, 
 -^'' "i lied his throat, and sworn, 
 
 ''' ' ' 1 lal Rhine bestowed 
 
 A'"' -n.i.u 1 nipiiiirr, whilst the owner, pleased, 
 Laujj'lis inly iit his guests, thus entertained 
 With foreign vintage from his cider cask. 
 
 CIDEB MCST BE ALLOWED TO WOBK. 
 
 Soon as thy liquor from the narrow cells 
 Of close-pressed husks is freed, thou must refrain 
 Thy thirsty soul ; let none persuade to broach 
 Thy thick, unwholesome, undigested cades : 
 The hoary frosts and northern blasts take care 
 Thy muddy beverage to serene, and drive 
 Precipitant the baser, ropy lees. 
 
 CIDEB SBOCLD SETTLE ON ITS LEES ! TOES BE DBAWN OFF : 
 
 And now thy wine 's transpicuous, purged from all 
 It 's earthy gross, yet let it feed a while 
 On the fat refuse, lest, too soon disjoined 
 From sprightly, it to sharp or vapid change. 
 When to convenient vigor it attains, 
 SufKce it to provide a brazen tube 
 Inflexcd ; aclf-taught and voluntary flics 
 The defecated liquor, through the vent 
 Ascending, then, by downward tract conveyed. 
 Spouts into subject vessels, lovely clear. 
 As when a noontide sun, with summer beams. 
 Darts through a cloud, her watery skirts are edged 
 With lucid amber, or nndrossy gold : 
 So, and so richly, the purged liquid shines. 
 
 BOTTLING OF CTOER ; CLASS BOTTLES ; A DESCRIPTION OF 
 
 Now, also, when the colds abate, nor yet 
 Full Summer shines, a dubious season, close 
 In glass thy purer streams, and let them gain, 
 From due confinement, spirit and flavor new. 
 
 For this intent, the subtle chymist feeds 
 Perpetual flames, whose unresisted force 
 O'er sand, and ashes, and the stubborn flint. 
 Prevailing, turns into a fusil sea. 
 That in his furnace bubbles sunny red : 
 From hence a glowing drop, with hollowed steel. 
 He takes, and by one efficacious breath 
 
RURAL POETRY. - 
 
 Dilates to a surprising cube, or sphere, 
 Or oval, and fit receptacles forms 
 Eor every liquid, with his plastic lungs, 
 To human life subservient. 
 
 By his means 
 Ciders in metal frail improve ; the Jloile, 
 And tasteful Pippin, in a moon's short year, 
 Ac(iuiie complete perfection : now they smoke 
 Transparent, sparkling in each drop, delight 
 Of curious palate, by fair virgins craved. 
 But harsher fluids different lengths of time 
 Expect : thy flask will slowly mitigate 
 The Eliot's roughness. Stirom, firmest fruit, 
 Embottled, long as Priameian Troy 
 Withstood the Greeks, endures, ere justly mild. 
 
 Softened by age, it youthful vigor gains, 
 Fallacious drink ! Ye honest men, beware, 
 Nor trust its smoothness ; the third circling gla 
 Sufiices virtue : but may hypocrites 
 (That slyly speak one thing, another think. 
 Hateful as hell), pleased with the relish weak, 
 Drink on unwarned, till by enchanting cups 
 Infatuate, they their wily thoughts disclose, 
 And through intemperance grow a while sincere 
 
 The farmer's toil is done ; his cades mature 
 Now call for vent, his lands exhaust permit 
 To indulge a while. Now solemn rites he pays 
 To Bacchus, author of heart-cheering mirth. 
 His honest friends, at thirsty hour of dusk, 
 Come uninvited ; he with bounteous hand 
 Imparts his smoking vintage, sweet reward 
 Of his own industry ; the well-fraught bowl 
 Circles incessant, whilst the humble cell 
 With quavering laugh and rural jests resounds. 
 Ease, and content, and undissembled love, 
 Shine in each face ; the thoughts of labor passed 
 Increase their joy. As, from retentive cage 
 When sullen Philomel escapes, her notes 
 She varies, and of passed imprisonment 
 Sweetly complains ; her liberty retrieved 
 Cheers her sad soul, improves her pleasing song. 
 Gladsome they quaff, yet nut exceed the bounds 
 Of healthy temperance, nor encroach on night, 
 Season of rest, but well bedewed repair 
 Each to his home, with unsupplantcd feet. 
 Ere heaven's emblazoned by the rosy dawn 
 Domestic cares awake them ; brisk they rise. 
 Refreshed, and lively with the joys that fiow 
 From amicable talk, and moderate cups 
 Sweetly interchanged. 
 
 EFFECTS OF GOOD CmER, ON THE LOVER, DEBTOR, POET. 
 
 The pining lover finds 
 Present redress, and long oblivion drinks 
 
 Lueinda Give the debtor wine ; 
 ^ Tit h It and few ; yet when he drinks 
 I I I hi the flowing glasses add 
 II It 11 ih ULit^nificent in tho^ight. 
 
 Noi can the poet Bacchus' praise indite, 
 Dtb\ried hib giape the muses still require 
 Humid legalement, nor will aught avail 
 Imploring Phoebus with unmoistened lips. 
 
 Thus to the generous bottle all incline. 
 By parching thirst allured : with vehement suns 
 When dusty Summer bakes the crumbling clods, 
 How pleasant is't, beneath the twisted arch 
 Of a retreating bower, in mid-day's reign 
 To ply the sweet carouse, remote from noise, 
 Secured of feverish heats ! When the aged year 
 Inclines, and Boreas' spirit blusters frore. 
 Beware the inclement heavens ; now let thy hearth 
 Crackle with juiceloss boughs ; thy lingering blood 
 Now instigate with the apple's powerful streams. 
 
 IN-DOOR ENJOYMENTS. —DECEMBER 1 BCSOM DANCES. 
 
 Perpetual showers and stormy gusts confine 
 The willing ploughmnn, and December warns 
 To annual jollities ; now sportive youth 
 Carol incondite rhythms, with suiting notes. 
 
 Shaking their brawny limbs, with uncouth 
 Transported, and sometimes an oblique leei 
 Dart on their loves, sometimes an hasty ki: 
 Steal from unwary lasses ; they with scorn 
 And neck reclined, resent the ravished hVu 
 
 Meanwiiil'. MumI K; m-li La i^^ with volant tone 
 Traverse I.-,.,... :■ i, i ! .■, j -, \^ im-r .-nlnnn notes 
 Provoke tn K.m ;!.;■ ■ ; . , > 1 ■ -, ihr.-r among 
 A subtle aiu^l .-iaiui>, in uumlruus bug, 
 That bears imprisoned winds (of gentler sort 
 Than those which erst Laertes' son enclosed). 
 Peaceful they sleep ; but let the tuneful squeeze 
 Of laboring elbow rouse them, out they fly 
 Melodious, and with sprightly accents charm. 
 
 WINTER AND SPRING CIDER-DBTNKING. — THANKSGIVING. 
 
 'Midst these disports, forget they not to drench 
 Themselves with bellying goblets, nor when Spring 
 Returns, can they refuse to usher in 
 The fresh-born year with loud acclaim, and store 
 Of jovial draughts, now, when the sappy boughs 
 Attire themselves with blooms, sweet rudiments 
 Of future harvest : when the Gnossian crown 
 Leads on expected Autumn, and the trees 
 Discharge their mellow burthens, let them thank 
 Boon nature, that thus annually supplies 
 
Thoir vaults, and with her former liquid gifts 
 Exhilarate their languid ininda, within 
 The golden mean confined : heyond, there 's naught 
 or health or pleasure. 
 
 KXnOKTiTIOS TO THMPEIiiSCI!.— DRCSKEXSKSS.— QIARHBLS. 
 
 Therefore, when thy heart 
 Dilates with fervent joys, and eager soul 
 Prompts to pursue the sparkling gloss, be sure 
 'T is time to shun it ; if thou wilt prolong 
 Dire compotation, forthwith reason quits 
 Her empire to confusion, and misrule, 
 And vain debates ; then twenty tongues at onco 
 Conspire in senseless jargon, naught is heard 
 But din, and various clamor, and mad rant : 
 Distrust and jealousy to these succeed. 
 And anger-kindling taunt, the certain bano 
 Of well-knit fellowship. 
 
 SOME or THE noRROBS Of IXTKMPERASCE i DRCXKES 
 
 Now horrid frays 
 Commence, the brimming glasses now are hurled 
 With dire intent ; bottles with bottles clash 
 In rude encounter, round their temples fly [checks 
 The sharp-edged fragments, down their battered 
 Mixed gore and cider flow : what shall wo say 
 Of rash Elpenor, who in evil hour 
 Dried an immeasurable bowl, and thought 
 To exhale his surfeit by irriguous sleep, 
 Imprudent ? Ilim, Death's iron-sleep oppressed, 
 Descending careless from his couch ; the fall 
 Luxed his neok-joint, and spinal marrow bruised. 
 
 Xor need we tell what anxious cares attend 
 The turbulent mirth of wine ; nor all the kinds 
 Of maladies, that lead to Death's grim cave, 
 Wrought by intemperance, joint-racking gout, 
 Intestine stone, and pining atrophy, 
 Chill, even when the sun with July heats 
 Fries the scorched soil, and dropsy all afloat, 
 Yet craving liquids : nor the Centaurs' tale 
 Be here repeated ; how, with lust and wine 
 Inflamed, they fought, and spilt thoir drunken souls 
 At feasting hour. Yo heavenly powers that guard 
 The British isles, such dire events remove 
 Far from fair Albion, nor let civil broils 
 Ferment from social cups : may we, remote 
 From the hoarse, brazen sound of war, enjoy 
 Our humid products, and with seemly draughts 
 Enkindle mirth, and hospitable love. 
 
 CIVIL wjR. — rrs CArsB. — ITS crRSK.— the civil 
 
 Too oft, alas ! has mutual hatred drenched 
 Our swords in native blood, too oft has pride, 
 And hellish discord, and insatiate thirst 
 Of others' rights, our quiet discomposed. 
 Have we forgot how fell destruction raged 
 Wide-spreading, when by Eris' torch incensed 
 
 Our fathers warred ? What heroes, signalized 
 For loyalty and prowess, met their fate 
 Untimely, undeserved ! How Bertie fell, 
 Conipton, and Granvill, dauntless sons of Mars, 
 Fit themes of endless grief, but that wo view 
 Their virtues yet surviving in their race ! 
 
 U.SDBR CROMWELL. 
 
 Can we forget how the mad, headstrong rout 
 Defied their prince to anus, nor made account 
 Of faith, or duty, or allegiance sworn ? 
 Apostate, atheist rebels ! bent to ill. 
 With seeming sanctity, and covered fraud, 
 Instilled by him who first presumed to oppose 
 Omnipotence ; alike their crime, the event 
 M'as not alike ; these triumphed, and in hei;^ht 
 Of barbarous malice, and insulting pride, 
 Abstained not from imperial blood. 
 
 0, fact 
 Unparalleled ! 0, Charles ! 0, best of kings ! 
 What stars their black, disastrous influence shod 
 On thy nativity, that thou shouldst fall 
 Thus, by inglorious hands, in this thy realm. 
 Supreme, and innocent, adjudged to death 
 By those thy mercy only would have saved ! 
 Y'ct was the cider-land unstained with guilt ; 
 The cider-land, obsequious still to thrones. 
 Abhorred such base, disloyal deeds, and all 
 Her pruning-hooks extended into swords, 
 Undaunted, to assert the trampled rights 
 Of monarehv : but, ah \ suceessless she. 
 
 TBE REIG.-! OF QCEBS ASSE. 
 
 Now we exult, by mighty Anna's car© 
 Secure at home, while she to foreign realms 
 Sends forth her dreadful legions, and restrains 
 The rage of kings : here, nobly she supports 
 Justice oppressed ; hero, her victorious arms 
 Quell the ambitious : from her hand alono 
 All Europe fears revenge, or hopes redress. 
 Rejoice, Albion ! severed from the world 
 By Nature's wise indulgence, indigent 
 Of notliing from without ; in one supreme 
 Entirely blest ; and from beginning time 
 Designed thus happy ; but tho fond desire 
 Of rule and grandeur multiplied a race 
 Of kings, and numerous sceptres introduced, 
 Destructive of the public weal : 
 
 Each potentate, as wary fear, or strength, 
 Or emulation urged, his neighbor's bounds 
 Invades, and ampler territory seeks 
 
390 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 With ruinous assault ; on every plain 
 
 Host coped witli li--f, <ln- ^^.(- Ml.' din of war. 
 
 And ceaseless, or L i l\ procured 
 
 By havoc and di-in > . ill i i : n \ 
 Raised new coiiiI^um id tlm \\:i- peace in vain 
 Sought for by martial deeds, and conflict stern : 
 Till Edgar grateful (as, to those who pine 
 A dismal half-year night, the orient beam 
 Of Phoebus' lamp) arose, and into one 
 Cemented all the long-contending powers, 
 Pacific monarch ; then her lovely head 
 Concord reared high, and all around diffused 
 The spirit of love; at ease, the bards new strung 
 Their silent harps, and taught the woods and vales, 
 In uncouth rhythms, to echo Edgar's name. 
 Then gladness smiled in every eye ; the years 
 Ran smoothly on, productive of a line 
 Of wise, heroic kings, that by just laws 
 Established happiness at home, or crushed 
 Insulting enemies in furthest climes. 
 
 See lion-hearted Richard, with bis force 
 Drawn from the north, to Fury's hallowed plains ! 
 Piously valiant (like a torrent swelled 
 AVith wintry tempests, that disdains all mounds, 
 Breaking a way impetuous, and involves 
 Within its sweep trees, houses, men), he pressed 
 Amidst the thickest battle ; and o'erthrew 
 Whate'er withstood his zealous rage ; no pause, 
 No stay of slaughter, found his vigorous arm, 
 But the unbelieving squadrons turned to flight 
 Smote in the rear, and with dishonest wounds 
 Mangled behind : the Soldan, as he fled, 
 Oft called on Allah, gnashing with despite 
 And shame, and murmured many an empty curse. 
 
 Behold third Edward's streamers blazing high 
 On Gallia's hostile ground ! his right withheld, 
 Awakens vengeance ; 0, imprudent Gauls, 
 Relying on false hopes, thus to incense 
 The warlike English ! one important day 
 Shall teach you meaner thoughts : eager of fight, 
 Fierce Brutus' offspring to the adverse front 
 Advance resistless, and their deep ari*ay 
 With furious inroad pierce ; the mighty force 
 Of Edward twice o'erturned their desperate king, 
 Twice he arose, and joined the horrid shock : 
 The third time, with his wide-extended wings. 
 He fugitive declined superior strength. 
 Discomfited ; pursued, in the sad chase 
 Ten thousands ignominious fall ; with blood 
 The valleys float : great Edward thus avenged, 
 With golden Iris his broad shield embossed. 
 
 ension spring ; from him 
 in hosting long contend 
 (and can such anger dwell 
 
 ; bdt little now availed 
 ;led 
 
 I III- Ti- - "1 III' ii'f-iiip ; every i 
 
 By iueliuatiou or vain hope, repaired 
 
 To either camp, and breathed immortal hate 
 
 And dire revenge : now horrid slaughter reigns ; 
 
 Sons against fathers tilt the fatal lance, 
 
 Careless of duty, and their native grounds 
 
 Distain with kindred blood ; the twanging bows 
 
 Send showers of shafts, that on their barbed points 
 
 Alternate ruin bear. Here might you see 
 
 Barons and peasants on the embattled field 
 
 Slain, or half dead, in one huge, ghastly heap 
 
 Promiscuously amassed : with dismal groans, 
 
 And ejulation, in the pangs of death 
 
 Some call for aid, neglected ; some o'erturned 
 
 In the fierce shock, lie gasping, and expire. 
 
 Trampled by fiery coursers ; horror thus, 
 
 And wild uproar, and desolation, reigned 
 
 Unrespited. 
 
 Ah ! who at length will end 
 This long, pernicious fray ? What man has fate 
 Reserved for thisgrciit w.nk ? — ll;iil, happy prince 
 Of Tudor's race, whom in ihr nmnl, nt time 
 Cadwallador foresaw ! 'linMi, Hk.ii ;iit he, 
 Great Richmond Henry, HkiI liv iiiiiili;il rites 
 Must close the gates of Jauus, and remove 
 Destructive discord : now no more the drum 
 Provokes to arms, or trumpet's clangor shrill 
 Affrights tlif ui\t;-. m rliilK tlie virgin's blood ; 
 
 But 
 
 m'^ 
 
 iig skill 
 
 Uuiuterrui.tnl ! \\ ii 
 
 Thou to thy nwu uuitL'.t IVi-us' line 
 
 By wise alliauce ; from thee James descends, 
 
 Heaven's chosen favorite, first Britannic king. 
 
 To him alone hereditary right 
 Gave power supreme; yet still some seeds rei 
 Of discontent ; two nations under one, 
 i In laws and interest diverse, still pursued 
 Peculiar ends, on each side resolute 
 To fly conjunction ; neither fear, nor hope, 
 Nor the sweet prospect of a mutual gain, 
 Could aught avail, till prudent Anna said. 
 Let there be union ; straight with reverence ■ 
 To her command, they willingly unite. 
 One in affection, laws, and government, 
 Indissolubly firm ; from Dubris south. 
 To northern Orcades, her long domain. 
 
 THE Wilis OF THE ROSES ; HOHKID SLAUGHTER OF KINDRED 
 
 Thrice glorious prince ! whom B'amo with all her 
 tongues ■ 
 
 Forever shall resound. Yet from his loins 
 
 And now thus leagued by an eternal bond, 
 What shall retard the Britons' bold designs. 
 Or who sustain their force ; in union knit, 
 Sufiicient to withstand the powers combined 
 Of all this globe ? At this important act 
 
NOVEMBBB. 
 
 391 
 
 Tho Muuritanion nnd Cathainn kin^ 
 
 Already tromblo, and tho unbaptiicod Turk 
 
 Dreads war from utmost Tbulo ; uncontrolled 
 
 Tho British navy through tho ocoan vast 
 
 Shall wave her double cross, to oxtrcmcst olimca 
 
 Terrific, and return with odorous spoils 
 
 Of Ahiby well fraught, or Indus' wealth, 
 
 Pearl, and barbario gold ; meanwhilo tho swains 
 
 Shall unmolested reap, what plenty strews 
 
 From well-stored horn, rich grain, and timely fruits. 
 
 Tho elder year, Pomona, pleased, shall deck 
 
 With ruby-tinctured births, whoso liquid store 
 
 Abundant, flowing in well-blended streams. 
 
 The natives shall applaud ; while glad they talk 
 
 Of baleful ills, caused by BcUona's wrath 
 
 In other realms ; where'er the British spread 
 
 Triumphant banners, or their fame has reached 
 
 Diffusive, to tho utmost bounds of this 
 
 Wide universe, Silurian Cider borne 
 
 Shall pleiise all tastes, and triumph o'er tho vine. 
 
 cTussfr's "HolifiiUifr's iijuslianh'ij 
 
 At Hallcmtidc,' sluughter-time entereth in. 
 
 And then doth the husbandman's feasting begin : 
 
 From thence unto Shrovetide, kill now and th 
 
 Their ofifall for household the better will como. 
 Thy dredge « and thy barley go thresh out to mo 
 Let maltater bo cunning, else lose it thou shalt : 
 The increase of a scam' is a bushel for store ; 
 Bad else is tho barley, or huswife much more. 
 Some useth to winnow, some useth to fan. 
 Some useth to cast it, as clean as they can. 
 For seed go and cast it ; for malting not so, 
 But get out the cockle, and then let it go. 
 Thresh barley as yet but as need shall require, 
 Fresh threshed for stover,'' thy cattle desire ; 
 And therefore that threshing forbear as ye may 
 Till Candlemas coming, for sparing of hay. 
 Such wheat as ye keep, for the baker to buy, 
 Untbreshed till -March, in the sheaf let it lie ;' 
 Lest foistincss tjike it, if sooner ye thresh it. 
 Although by oft turning ye seem to refresh it. 
 
 Save chaff of the barley, of wheat, and of rye. 
 From feathers and foistiness, where it doth lio ; 
 Which mixed with corn, being sifted of dust, 
 Go give to thy cattle, when serve them ye must. 
 (Jreen peason, or Hastings, at Hallontido sow, 
 In hearty good soil ho requireth to grow : 
 Gray peason or runcivals,^ checrly to stand. 
 At Candlemas sow, with a plentiful hand. 
 Leave latewardly rearing, keep now no more swii 
 But such as thou mayst with the offal of thine. 
 E.tcept ye have wherewith to fat them away. 
 The fewer thou kecpest, keep better ye may. 
 
 s One bushel to a seam, or quarler, Increase to the mal 
 
 ster, though coDSidcrable is deemed moderate. — Mavor. 
 
 < St.ncr Is fodiler of stniw ; ruiiclvals, a favorite pea. 
 
 ^ Wheat worlcs better in grinding and baking after uodc 
 
 To rear up much poultry, and want the barn door. 
 Is naught for tho poulter, and worse for tho poor ; 
 So now to keep hogs, and to starve them for meat. 
 Is as to keep dogs for to bawl in tho street. 
 
 As cat a good mouser is needful in house, 
 Because for her commons she killeth the mouse ; 
 So ravening curs, as a many do keep, 
 Makes master want meat, and his dog to kill sheep. 
 For Easter, at Martilmas, hang up a beef,^ 
 For stall-fed and pease-fed play pickpurse tho thief : 
 With that and the like, ere an grass beef como in, 
 Thy folk shall look cheerly, when others look thin. 
 Set garlic and beans at St. Edmond the king,2 
 The moon in the wane, thereon hangeth a thing : 
 The encrease of a pottle (well proved of some) 
 Shall pleasure thy household, ere peasecod time 
 
 When rain is a let to thy doings abroad. 
 
 Set threshers a threshing, to lay on good load : 
 
 Thresh clean ye must bid them, though lesser they 
 
 And, looking to thrive, have an eye to thy barn. 
 Take heed to thy man, in his fury and heat. 
 With ploughstaff and whipstock for maiming thy 
 
 To thresher for hurting of cow with his flail, 
 Or making thy hen to play tapple up tail. 
 Some pilfering thresher will walk with a staff, 
 Will carry home corn as it is in the chaff ; 
 And some in his bottle of leather so great 
 Will carry home, daily, both barley and wheat. 
 If house-room will servo thee, lay stover up dry. 
 And every sort, by itself for to lie ; 
 Or stack it for litter, if room bo too poor, 
 And thatch out the residue noying thy door. * * 
 
 1 Hung or smoke-dried beef was formerly much more in 
 use in England than at present. — Mftvor. 
 ' St. Edmund's day is the 20th November. 
 
§;ill:iti for IToiicmbcr. 
 
 CRABBE'S "GYPSY." 
 
 Take, take away thy barbarous hand, 
 And let me to thy master speak ; 
 
 Remit a while the harsh command. 
 And hear me, or my heart will break. 
 
 Fond wretch ! and what canst thou relate. 
 But deeds of sorrow, shame, and sin ? 
 
 Thy crime is proved, thou knoVst thy fate ; 
 But come, thy tale ! begin, begin ! — 
 
 My crime ! this siok'ning child to feed, 
 
 I seized the food, your witness saw ; 
 I knew your laws forbade the deed, 
 
 But yielded to a stronger law. 
 KnoVst thou to Nature's great command 
 
 All human laws are frail and weak ? 
 Nay ! frown not — stay his eager hand. 
 
 And hear me, or my heart will break. 
 In this, th' adopted babe I hold 
 
 With anxious fondness to my breast, 
 My heart's sole comfort I behold. 
 
 More dear than life, when life was blest. 
 I saw her pining, fainting, cold, 
 
 I begged — but vain was my request. 
 I saw the tempting food, and seized — 
 
 My infant sufferer found relief ; 
 And, in the pilfered treasure pleased, 
 
 Smiled on my guilt, and hushed my grief. 
 But I have griefs of other kind. 
 
 Troubles and sorrows more severe ; 
 Give me to ease my tortured mind. 
 
 Lend to my woes a patient ear ; 
 And let me, if I may not find 
 
 A friend to help, find one to hear. 
 Yet nameless let me plead — my name 
 
 Would only wake the cry of scorn ; 
 A child of sin, conceived in shame, 
 
 Brought forth in woe, to misery born. 
 My mother dead, my father lost, 
 
 I wandered with a vagrant crew ; 
 A common care, a common cost, 
 
 Their sorrows and their sins I knew ; 
 With them, on want and error forced. 
 
 Like them, I base and guilty grew. 
 Few are my years, not so my crimes ; 
 
 The age, which these sad looks declare, 
 Is sorrow's work, it is not time's. 
 
 And I am old in shame and care. 
 Taught to believe the world a place 
 
 Where every stranger was a foe. 
 
 Trained in the arts that mark our race. 
 
 To what new people could I go ? 
 Could I a better life embrace. 
 
 Or live as virtue dictates ? No ! — 
 So through the land I wandering went. 
 
 And little found of grief or joy ; 
 But lost my bosom's sweet content, 
 
 When first I loved the Gypsy-boy. 
 A sturdy youth he was and tall. 
 
 His looks would all his soul declare, 
 His piercing eyes were deep and small. 
 
 And strongly curled his raven hair. 
 Yes, Aaron had each manly charm. 
 
 All in the May of youthful pride ; 
 He scarcely feared his father's arm. 
 
 And every other arm defied. — 
 Oft when they grew in auger warm 
 
 (Whom will not love and power divide ': 
 I rose, their wrathful souls to calm, 
 
 Not yet in sinful combat tried. 
 His father was our party's chief, 
 
 And dark and dreadful was his look ; 
 His presence filled my heart with grief, 
 
 Although to me he kindly spoke. 
 With Aaron I delighted went. 
 
 His favor was my bliss and pride ; 
 In growing hope our days were spent, 
 
 Love growing charms in either spied ; 
 It saw them all which nature lent. 
 
 It lent them all which she denied. 
 Could I the father's kindness prize, 
 
 Or grateful looks on him bestow ; 
 Whom I beheld in wrath arise. 
 
 When Aaron sank beneath his blow ? 
 He drove him down with wicked hand. 
 
 It was a dreadful sight to see ; 
 Then vexed him, till he left the land. 
 
 And told his cruel love to me ; — 
 The clan were all at his command. 
 
 Whatever his command might be. 
 The night was dark, the lanes were deep, 
 
 And one by one they took their way ; 
 He bade me lay me down and sleep, — 
 
 I only wept and wished for day. 
 Accursed be the love he bore, — 
 
 Accursed was the force he used, — 
 So let him of his God implore 
 
 For mercy, and be so refused ! 
 Y'ou frown again, — to show my wrong, 
 
 Can I in gentle language speak ? 
 My woes are deep, my words are strong, — 
 And hear me, or my heart will break. 
 
AUTUMN — NOVEMBER. 
 
 lUGISTKATB. 
 
 I hear thy words, I fool thy pain ; 
 
 Forbear awbilo to speak thy woes ; 
 Receivo our aid, and then again 
 
 Tho story of thy life disclose. 
 For though, scduecd and led astray, 
 
 Thou 'st travelled far and wandered long. 
 Thy Uod hath seou thoo all tho way, 
 
 And all the turns that led thee wrong. 
 Come, now again thy woes impart, 
 
 Tell all thy sorrows, all thy sin ; 
 Wo cannot heal the throbbing heart. 
 
 Till we discern tho wounds within. 
 Cumpunetion weeps our guilt away, 
 
 Tho sinner's safety is bis pain ; 
 Our pangs for our offences pay, 
 
 And our severest griefs are gain. 
 
 Tho son came back — he found us wed, 
 
 Then dreadful was tho oath he swore ; — 
 His way through Blackburn Forest led, — 
 
 His father wo beheld no more. 
 Of all our daring clan, not one 
 
 Would on tho doubtful subject dwell ; 
 For all esteemed the injured son, 
 
 And feared the tale which ho could tell. 
 But 1 had mightier cause for fear. 
 
 For slow and mournful round my bed 
 I saw a dreadful form appear, — 
 
 It came when 1 and Aaron wed. 
 (Yes ! wo were wed ; I know my crime, — 
 
 Wo slept beneath the Elmin-treo ; 
 But I was grieving all the time. 
 
 And Aaron frowned my tears to see. 
 For ho not yet had felt the pain 
 
 That rankles in a wounded breast ; 
 He waked to sin, then slept again. 
 
 Forsook his God, yet took his rest. 
 But I was forced to feign delight, 
 
 And joy in mirth and music sought, — 
 And mem'ry now recalls the night, 
 
 With such surprise and horror fraught. 
 That reason felt a moment's flight, 
 
 And left a mind, to madness wrought.) 
 When waking, on my heaving breast 
 
 I felt a hand as cold as death ; 
 A sudden fear my voice suppressed, 
 
 A chilling terror stopped my breath. 
 I seemed — no words can utter how ! 
 
 For there my father-husband stood, — 
 And thus he said : ' Will God allow. 
 
 The great Avenger, just and good, 
 A wife to break her marriage vow? 
 
 A son to shed his father's blood? ' 
 I trembled at tho dismal sounds. 
 
 But vainly strove a word to say ; 
 So, pointing to his bleeding wounds, 
 
 Tho threat'ning spectre stalked away. 
 I brought a lovely daughter forth. 
 
 His father's child in Aaron's bed : 
 
 Ho took her from mo in bis wrath. — 
 
 ' Whore is my child ? ' — ' Thy child is dead.' 
 'Twas false — we wandered far and wide. 
 
 Through town and country, field and fen. 
 Till Aaron, fighting, fell and died, 
 
 And 1 became a wife again. 
 I then was young ; — my husband sold 
 
 My fancied charms for wicked price ; 
 Ho gave me oft, for sinful gold. 
 
 The slave, but not the friend, of vice : — 
 Behold me, Heaven ! my pains behold, 
 
 And let them for my sin.t suffice ! 
 Tho wretch who lent m.' tlm-- f"r ;;.iin 
 
 Despised mo wlii II iii\ \. mli «,.- Ilnl ; 
 Then came di8e:i.-^c a 1 1 1 i.p luhi m- pain: — 
 
 Come, death, and 1" ar lu. in iIp- dead ! 
 For, though I grieve, my grief is vain. 
 
 And fruitless all tho tears I shed. 
 True, I was not to virtue trained, 
 
 Yet well T kne\v my deeds were ill ; 
 By eaeh uiTeneu my heart was pained, — 
 
 I wept, but I oft'ended still ; 
 My better thoughts my life disdained. 
 
 But yet the viler led my will. 
 My husband died, and now no moro 
 
 My smile was sought, or asked my hand ; 
 A widowed vagrant, vile and poor. 
 
 Beneath a vagrant's vile command. 
 Ceaseless I roved the country round. 
 
 To win my bread by fraiulful arts. 
 And long a poor suK-i-irn ■. inuiui. 
 
 By spreading net- Im- -mii I.' h. ail-. 
 Though poor, and iilijri i. an^l .1. .-|,i.l.,1, 
 
 Their fortunes to the crowd i tuld ; 
 I gave the young the love they prized. 
 
 And promised wealth to bless the old ; 
 Schemes for the doubtful I devised. 
 
 And charms for the forsaken sold. 
 At length, for arts like these confined 
 
 In prison with a lawless crew, 
 I soon perceived u kindred mind. 
 
 And there my long-lost daughter knew. 
 His father's child, whom Aaron gavo 
 
 To wander with a distant elan. 
 The miseries of the world to bravo, 
 
 And bo tho slave of vice and man. 
 She knew my name — wo met in pain, 
 
 Our parting pangs can I express 7 
 
 And left an heir to her distress. 
 This is that heir to shame and pain, 
 
 For whom I only could descry 
 A world of trouble and disdain : 
 
 Y'ct could I bear to see her die, 
 Or stretch her feeble hands in vain. 
 
 And weeping beg of me supply 7 
 No ! though the fate thy mother knew 
 
 Was shameful ! shameful though thy race 
 Have wandered all, a lawless crew. 
 
 Outcasts, despised in every plaoo ; 
 
 50 
 
KURAL POETRY. — CRABBE. LONGFELLOW. 
 
 Yet as the dark and muddy tide, 
 
 AVhen far from its polluted source. 
 Becomes more pure, and purified, 
 
 Flows in a clear and happy course ; 
 In thee, dear infant ! so may end 
 
 Our shame, in thee our sorrows cease ! 
 And thy pure course will then extend, 
 
 In floods of joy, o'er vales of peace. 
 ! by the God who loves to spare, 
 
 Deny me not the boon I crave : 
 Let this loved child your mercy share, 
 
 And let me find a peaceful grave ; 
 Make her yet spotless soul your care. 
 
 And let my sins their portion have ; 
 Her for a better fate prepare. 
 
 And punish whom 't were sin to save ! 
 
 Command thy heart and bend thy kr 
 There is to all a pardon brr.u;iht, 
 
 A ransom rifli, :i -nir-l. mjil i'lrr ; 
 'Tis full when iouiid. 't i- r.-m.-i ifsuug 
 
 0! seek it, till 't i.- ,-.';ilra tn thee. 
 
 But how my pardon shall I know ? 
 
 By feeling dread that 't is not sent. 
 
 By tears for sin that freely flow, 
 By grief, that all thy tears are spent ; 
 
 By thoughts on that great debt wo t 
 With all the mercy God has lent ; 
 
 By suffering what thou canst not sh^ 
 Yet showing how thine heart is rent. 
 
 Till thou canst feel thy bosom glow, 
 And say, ' My Saviour, I repent ! ' 
 
 |salm 0f ^§xmt in llobtinhr. 
 
 LONGFELLOW'S *' THANKSGIVING." 
 
 AVhen first, in ancient time, from Jubal's tongue 
 The tuneful anthem filled the morning air, 
 To sacred hymnings and elyaian song 
 His music-breathing shell the minstrel woke. 
 Devotion breathed aloud from every chord : — 
 The voice of praise was heard in every tone, 
 And prayer, and thanks to Him, the Eternal One, — 
 To Him, that with bright inspiration touched 
 The high and gifted lyre of heavenly song, 
 And warmed the soul with new vitality. 
 A stirring energy through nature breathed : — 
 The voice of adoration from her broke, 
 Swelling aloud in every breeze, and heard 
 Long in the sullen waterfall, — what time 
 Soft Spring or hoary Autumn threw on earth 
 Its bloom or blighting, — when the Summer smiled. 
 Or Winter o'er the year's sepulchre mourned. 
 The Deity was there ! — a nameless spirit 
 Moved in the hearts of men to do Him homage ; 
 And when the morning smiled, or evening pale 
 Hung weeping o'er the melancholy urn, 
 They came beneath the broad o'erarching trees, 
 And in their tremulous shadow worshipped oft. 
 Where the pale vine clung round their simple altars. 
 And gray moss mantling hung. Above was heard 
 The melody of winds, breathed out as the green trees 
 Bowed to their quivering touch in living beauty, 
 And birds sang forth their cheerful hymns. Below, 
 The bright and widely wandering rivulet 
 Struggled and gushed amongst the tangled roots, 
 That choked its reedy fountain — and dark rocks 
 Worn smooth by the constant current. Even there 
 The listless wave, that stole with mellow voice 
 Where reeds grew rank upon the rushy brink, 
 
 And to the wandering wind the green sedge bent, 
 Sang a sweet song of fixed tranquillity. 
 Men felt the heavenly influence — and it stole 
 Like balm into their hearts, till all was peace ; 
 And even the air they breathed — the light they 
 Became religion; — for the ethereal spirit, [saw — 
 That to soft music wakes the chords of feeling. 
 And mellows everything to beauty, moved 
 With cheering energy within their breasts, 
 And made all holy there — for all was love. 
 The morning stars, that sweetly sang together — 
 The moon, that hung at night in the mid-sky — 
 Dayspring — and eventide — and all the fair 
 And beautiful forms of Nature, had a voice 
 Of eloquent worship. Ocean with its tides 
 SwrlliiiLi: find drop, where low the infant storm 
 Ihin- Mil 111- iliiii, dark cloud, and heavily beat 
 'lln I'll 1-1 - ni ihr ^,_a, sent forth a voice 
 oi aulul ;td<a-;itiMii to the spirit. 
 That, wrapt in darkness, moved upon its face. 
 And when the bow of evening arched the east, 
 Or, in the moonlight pale, the gentle wave 
 Kissed with a sweet embrace the sea-worn beach, 
 And the wild song of winds came o'er the waters, 
 The mingled melody of wind and wave 
 Touched like a heavenly anthem on the ear ; 
 For it arose a tuneful hymn of worship. 
 And have our hearts grown cold ? Are there on earth 
 No pure reflections caught from heavenly love ? 
 Have our mute lips no hymn — our souls no song ? 
 Let him, that in the summer-day of youth 
 Keeps pure the holy fount of youthful feeling, — 
 And him, that in the nightfall of his years 
 Lies down in his last sleep, and shuts in peace 
 His weary eyes on life's short wayfaring, 
 Praise Him that rules the destiny of man. 
 
AVINTER-DECEMBEK 
 
 cri)c fourtl) of tbc ^^casons. 
 
 THOMSON'S " WINTER.' 
 
 The subject proposed Aildress to the Earl of Wilminirton. 
 
 iuii ainnnc them ; whence i 
 miseries of human life. T!i 
 Alps nnii Apennines. A mni 
 spent l>y philosophers ; h.v lii' 
 city. Frost. A view of Winter 
 A thaw. The whole concluding v 
 a future state. 
 
 See, Winter comes, to rule tho varied year, 
 Sullen and sad, with all his rising train, [theme. 
 Vapors, and clouds, and storms. Bo these my 
 These ! that exalt tho soul to solemn thought, 
 And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms ! 
 Congenial horrors, hail ! with frequent foot. 
 Pleased have I, in my cheerful morn of life, 
 When nursed by careless Solitude I lived, 
 And sung of Nature with unceasing joy, [main ; 
 Pleased have I wandered through your rough do- 
 Trod the pure virgin-snows, myself as pure ; 
 Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst ; 
 
 Or seen the dcep-forracnting tempest brewed 
 In the grim evening sky. Thus passed the time, 
 Till through the lucid chambers of the south 
 Looked out tho joyous Spring, looked out, and smiled. 
 
 COMPL1UEST3 TO THR EARL C 
 
 To thee, the patron of her first essay. 
 The Muse, Wilmington ! renews her song. 
 Since has she rounded tho revolving year : 
 Skimmed the gay Spring ; on eagle pinions homo, 
 Attempted through the Summer blaze to rise ; 
 Then swept o'er Autumn with tho shadowy galo ; 
 And now among the Wintry clouds again, 
 KoUcd in tho doubling storm, she tries to soar ; 
 To swell her note with all the rushing winds ; 
 To suit her sounding cadence to the. floods ; 
 As is her theme, her numbers wildly great : 
 Thrice happy could she fill thy judging ear 
 With bold description, and with manly thought. 
 Nor art thou skilled in awful schemes alone. 
 And how to make a mighty people thrive ; 
 But equal goodness, sound integrity, 
 A firm, unshaken, uncorruptcd soul 
 Amid a sliding age, and burning strong, 
 Not vainly blating, for thy country's weal, 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 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 
 Record what Enry dares not flattery call. 
 
 BE DISMAL DAT DECLINING INTO 
 
 Now when the cheerless empire of the sky 
 To Capricorn the Centaur Archer yields. 
 And fii'ruc Aquarius stains th' inverted year ; 
 Hung o'er the furthest verge of heaven, the sun 
 Scarce spreads through ether the dejected day. 
 Faint are his gleams, and ineffectual shoot 
 His struggling rays, in horizontal lines. 
 Through the thick air ; as clothed in cloudy storm, 
 Weak, wan, and broad, he skirts the southern sky ; 
 And, soon descending, to the long dark night. 
 Wide-shading all, the prostrate world resigns. 
 Nor is the night unwished ; while vital heat, 
 Light, life, and joy, the dubious day forsake. 
 jMeantiiuc, in sable cincture, shadows vast. 
 Deep-tinged and damp, and congregated clouds, 
 And all the vapory turbulence of heaven. 
 Involve the face of things. 
 
 THE MELASCHOLY OF WINTER. — DISCOSSOLATE LOOK OF 
 CATTLE SOUNDS PORTENDING A WINTER STORM. 
 
 Thus Winter falls, 
 A heavy gloom oppressive o'er the world. 
 Through Nature shedding influence malign. 
 And rouses up the seeds of dark disease. 
 The soul of man dies in him, loathing life. 
 And black with more than melancholy views. 
 The cattle droop ; and o'er the furrowed land, 
 Fresh from the plough, the dun discolored flocks, 
 Untended spreading, crop the wholesome root. 
 Along the woods, along the moorish fens. 
 Sighs the sad Genius of the coming storm ; 
 And up among the loose disjointed cliff's, 
 And fractured mountains wild, the brawling brook 
 And cave, presageful, send a hollow moan, 
 Resounding long in listening Fancy's ear. 
 
 Then comes the father of the tempest forth. 
 Wrapt in black glooms. First joyless rains obscure 
 Drive through the mingling skies with vapor foul ; 
 Dash on the mountain's brow, and shake the woods. 
 That grumbling wave below. Th' unsightly plain 
 Lies a brown deluge ; as the low-bent clouds 
 
 Pour flood on flnn.l, yrt, nrM-\-l,riii-l, ,1. -lill 
 
 Combine, and, .1, . i . ; . ':i lii , -Inii up 
 
 The day's fair In. I- >, ,, I. ,. ,-,,i liraven. 
 Each to his h.iriir, ivii,,-, -,, i r il,,,,r that love 
 To take their pastime in the tit.ublcd air. 
 Or skimming flutter round the dimply pool. 
 The cattle from th' untasted fields return. 
 And ask, with moaning low, their wonted stalls. 
 Or ruminate in the contiguous shade. 
 Thither the household feathery people crowd. 
 
 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 the brim, with many a torrent swelled, 
 And the mixed ruin of its banks o'erspread, 
 At last the roused-up river pours along : 
 Resistless, roaring, dreadful, down it comes 
 From the rude mountain, and the mossy wild, 
 Tumbling through rocks abrupt, and sounding far ; 
 Then o'er the sanded valley floating spreads. 
 Calm, sluggish, silent ; till again, constrained 
 Between two meeting hills, it bursts away. 
 Where rocks and woods o'erhang 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 astonished, and astonished sings ! 
 Ye too, ye winds ! that now begin to blow 
 With boisterous sweep, I raise my voice to you. 
 Where are your stores, ye powerful beings ! say. 
 Where your aerial magazines reserved, 
 To swell the brooding terrors of the storm'? 
 In what far-distant region of the sky. 
 Hushed in deep silence, sleep ye when 't is calm ? 
 
 When from the pallid sky the sun descends, 
 With many a spot, that o'er his glaring orb 
 Uncertain wanders, stained ; 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-colored east, the moon 
 Wears a wan circle round ,her blunted horns. 
 Seen through the turbid fluctuating air. 
 The stars obtuse emit a shivered ray ; 
 Or frequent seem to shoot athwart the gloom. 
 And long behind them trail the whitening blaze. 
 Snatched in short eddies, plays the withered leaf ; 
 And on the flood the dancing feather floats. 
 With broadened nostrils to the sky upturned. 
 The conscious heifer snuff's the stormy gale. 
 E'en as the matron, at her nightly task. 
 With pensive labor draws the flaxen thread. 
 The wasted taper and the crackling flame 
 Foretell the blast. 
 
 But chief the plumy raci 
 The tenants of the sky, its changes speak. 
 
897 
 
 Kctiring from tho downs, where all clay long 
 Tliuy picked their scanty fare, a blackening train 
 Of clamorous rooks thick urge their weary flight, 
 And seek tho closing shelter of the grove. 
 Assiduous, in his bower, tho wailing owl 
 Plies his sad song. Tho cormorant on high 
 Wheels from tho deep, and screams along tho land. 
 Loud shrieks the soaring horn ; and with wild wing 
 Tho circling sea-fowl cleave tho flaky clouds. 
 Ocean, unequal pressed, with broken tido 
 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. 
 
 THB WINTER TBUPGST ON TnB OCRA.V. — THE BALTIC. — 
 
 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 ita bottom tho discolored deep. 
 Through the black night that sits immense around, 
 Lnshcd into foam, tho fierce conflicting brine 
 Seems o'er a thousand raging waves to burn : 
 Meantime tho mountain-billows, to the clouds 
 In dreadful tumult swelled, surge above surge. 
 Burst into ehaos with tremendous roar, 
 And anchored navies from their stations drive, 
 Wild as tho winds, across the howling waste 
 Of mighty waters : now th' inflated wave 
 Straining they scale, and now impetuous shoot 
 Into tho secret chambers of the deep. 
 The wintry Baltic thundering 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 on land the loosened tempest reigns. 
 Tlio 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, vexed, and sheds 
 What of its tarnished lienors yet remain ; 
 Dashed down, and scattered, by the tearing wind's 
 Assiduous fury, its gigantic limbs. 
 Thus struggling through the dissipated grove. 
 The whirling tempest raves along the plain ; 
 And on the cottage thatched, or lordly roof, 
 Keen-fastening, shakes them to the solid base. 
 Sleep frighted flics ; and round tho rocking dome. 
 For entrance eager, howls tho savage blast. 
 Then too, they say, through all tho burdened air. 
 Long groans are heard, shrill sounds, and distant 
 sighs. 
 
 That, uttered by tho Demon of tho night. 
 Warn the devoted wrcteh of woo and death. 
 
 Huge Uproar lords it wide. Tho clouds cummixe 
 With stars swift gliding sweep along tho sky. 
 All Nature reels. Till Nature's King, who oft 
 Amid tempestuous darkness dwells ulone. 
 And on the wings of tho careering wind 
 Walks dreadfully serene, commands a calm ; 
 Then straight air, sea, and earth, are hushed at onci 
 
 WINTBR-UIDNIGUT. — CONTEMPLATION. 
 
 As yet 't is midnight deep. The weary clouds. 
 Slow-meeting, mingle into solid gloom. 
 Now, while tho drowsy world lies lost in sleep. 
 Let mo associate with tho serious Night, 
 And Contemplation, her sedate compeer ; 
 Let me shako off th' intrusive cares of day. 
 And lay the meddling senses all aside. 
 
 VANITT OF Hl'MAN PrilSriTS. 
 
 Where now, ye lying vanities of life ! 
 Ye ever-tempting, ever-cheating train ! 
 Whore are you now ? and what is your amount ? 
 Vexation, disappointment, and remorse. 
 Sad, sickening thought ! and yet deluded man, 
 A scene of crude disjointed visions passed. 
 And broken slumbers, rises still resolved, 
 With new-flushed hopes, to run the giddy round. 
 
 PRAVER FOR VIRTCE. 
 
 Father of light and life ! thou Good Supreme ! 
 teach me what is good ! teach me Thyself ! 
 
 Siivo mo fvnm fnlly. v;inity. :ind vice. 
 
 The keener tempests rise : ond fuming dun 
 From all the livid east, or piercing north. 
 Thick clouds ascend ; in whose capacious womb 
 A vapory deluge lies, to snow congealed ; 
 Heavy they roll their fleecy world along, 
 And the sky saddens with tho gathered storm. 
 Through the hushed 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 cherished fields 
 Put on their winter-robe of purest white. 
 'T is brightness all, save where the new snow melts 
 Along tho mazy current. Low tho woods 
 Bow their hoar head j and ere tho languid sun 
 Faint from the west emits his evening ray. 
 Earth's universal face, deep hid, and chill. 
 Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide 
 The works of man. Drooping, the laborer ox 
 Stands covered o'er with snow, and then demands 
 The fruit of all his toil. The fowls of heaven, 
 Tamed by the cruel season, crowd around 
 The winnowing store, and claim tho littlo boon 
 Which Providence assigns them. 
 
RURAL POETRY. THOMSON. 
 
 One alone, 
 The red-tireast, sacred to the household 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, ho first 
 Against the window heats ; then, brisk, alights 
 On the warm hearth ; then, hopping o'er the floor. 
 Eyes all the smiling family askance. 
 And pecks, and starts, and wonders where he is : 
 Till, more familiar grown, the table-crumbs 
 Attract his slender feet. — The foodless wilds 
 Pour forth their brown inhabitants. The hare, 
 Though timorous of heart, and hard beset 
 By death in various forms, dark snares, and dogs. 
 And more unpitying men, the garden seeks. 
 Urged on by fearless want. The bleating kind 
 Eye the bleak heaven, and next the glistening earth, 
 With looks of dumb despair ; then, sad-dispersed, 
 Dig for the withered herb through heaps of snow. 
 
 Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind, 
 Baflle the raging year, and fill their pens 
 With food at will ; lodge them below the storm. 
 And watch them strict; for from the bellowing east, 
 In this dire season, oft the whirlwind's wing 
 Sweeps up the burden of whole wiutry plains 
 At one wide waft, and o'er the hapless flocks. 
 Hid in the hollow of two neighboring hills, 
 The billowy tempest whelms ; till, upward urged. 
 The valley to a shining mountain swells. 
 Tipped 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 loos2-revolving fields the swain 
 Disastered 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 through the drifted heaps, 
 Stung with the thoughts of home ; the thoughts of 
 
 Rush on his nervns. and call their vigor forth 
 In many a vain :iitiin|.|, Ilniv ..inks his soul ! 
 What black (lr-|.;n,, iil,;,i l,n,i,,r fills his heart ! 
 When for the ilii-kv -|i"i, \\\,i.\, lUncy feigned 
 His tufted cottage rising tlirough the snow. 
 Ho meets the roughness of the middle waste, 
 Par from the track 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 covered pits unfathomably deep, 
 
 A dire descent ! beyond the power of frost ; 
 
 Of faithless bogs ; _ of precipices huge, 
 
 Smoothed 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 sinks. 
 
 Beneath the shelter of the shapeless drift. 
 
 Thinking o'er all the bitterness of death ; 
 
 Mixed with the tender anguish Nature shoots 
 
 Through the wrung bosom of the dying man. 
 
 His wife, his children, and his friends unseen. 
 
 In vain for him th' ofiieious wife prepares 
 
 The fire fair-blazing, and the vestment warm ; 
 
 In vain his little children, peeping out 
 
 Into the mingling storm, demand their sire, 
 
 With tears of artless innocence. Alas ! 
 
 Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold ; 
 
 Nor friends, nor sacred home. On every nerve 
 
 The deadly Winter seizes ; shuts up sense ; 
 
 And, o'er his inmost vitals creeping cold, 
 
 Lays him along the snows a stiffened corse, 
 
 Stretched 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 pierced by wiutry winds. 
 How many shrink into the sordid hut 
 Of cheerless poverty. How many shake 
 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 tr.agic Muso ; 
 E'en in the vale where Wisdom loves to dwell. 
 With Friendship, Peace, and Contemplation joined. 
 How many, racked with honest passions, droop 
 In deep retired 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. 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 Vice in his high career would stand appalled, 
 And heedless rambling Impulse learn to think ; 
 The conscious heart of Charity would warm, 
 And her wide wish Bonovolcnco dilate ; 
 The social tear would rise, tho social sigh ; 
 And into clear perfection, gradual bliss, 
 Refining still, tho social passions work. 
 
 -IMrBlSOXJIKSI FOB 
 
 And hero can I forget the generous band,' 
 Who, touched with human woe, redressivo searched 
 Into the horrors of the gloomy jail ? 
 Unpiticd, and unheard, where misery moans. 
 Where sickness pines, where thirst and hunger bum, 
 And poor misfortune feels the lash of vice. 
 While in tho land of Liberty, the land 
 Whose every street and public meeting glow 
 With open freedom, little tyrants raged ; 
 Snatched the lean morsel from tho starving mouth ; 
 Tore from cold wintry limbs tho tottered weed ; 
 E'en robbed them of the last of comforts, sleep ; 
 The free-born Briton to tho dungeon chained. 
 Or, as tho lust of cruelty prevailed. 
 At pleasure marked him with inglorious stripes ; 
 And crushed out lives, by secret barbarous ways. 
 That for their country would have toiled or bled. 
 
 LEGAL BEFOBM CBOED. 
 
 great design ! if executed well, 
 With patient care, and wisdom-tompcred zeal. 
 Te sons of Mercy ! yet resume tho search. 
 Drag forth the legal monsters into light. 
 Wrench from their hands oppression's iron rod. 
 And bid the cruel feel tho pains they give. 
 Much still untouched remains ; in this rank age, 
 Much is tho patriot's weeding hand required. 
 The toils of law (what dark insidious men 
 Have cumbrous added to perplc.v the truth, 
 And lengthen simple justice into trade) 
 How glorious were tho day that saw these broke. 
 And every man within the reach of right ! 
 
 PACKS OF WOLVES ; THEIR RAVAGES ; TnE HORSE J DULL ; 
 MOTHER AND INFANT } DrRIRD CORPSES. 
 
 By wintry famine roused, from all the tract 
 Of horrid mountains which the shining Alps, 
 And wavy Aponnino, and Pyrenees, 
 Branch out stupendous into distant lands ; 
 Cruel as death, and hungry as tho 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 tho north-wind sweeps tho glossy snow. 
 All is their prize. They fasten on tho steed, 
 Press him to earth, and pierco his mighty heart. 
 Nor can the bull his awful front defend. 
 Or shake the murdering savages awoy. 
 Rapacious, at the mother's throat they fly. 
 And tear the screaming infant from her breast. 
 The godlike face of man avails him naught. 
 1 The Jail Committee, in the year 1720. 
 
 E'en beauty, force divino ! ot whoso bright glanco 
 The generous lion stonds in softened gaze, 
 Here bleeds, a hapless undistinguished prey. 
 But if, oppriscd of tho severe attack. 
 The country be shut up, lured by the scent, 
 On ohurch-ynrds drear (inhuman to relate !) 
 The disappointed prowlers fall, and dig 
 The shrouded body from the grave ; o'er which, 
 Mi.^ed with foul shades and frighted ghosts, they 
 howl. 
 
 SWISS AVALANCHES. 
 
 Among those hilly regions, where embraced 
 In peaceful vales the happy Orisons dwell ; 
 Oft, rushing sadden from tho loaded cliffs. 
 Mountains of snow their gathering terrors roll. 
 From steep to steep, loud-thundering down they come, 
 A wintry wn--t.' \v '\W- ,-..n,i,v.li"n all ; 
 And herds, II 11^1 II 1 .ml i iiMlIcrs, and swains, 
 And sometim. - u!,. 1. i m_ , I - ^r marching troops. 
 Or hamlets sK. I, in; in Hi- ■!■ il "f night, 
 Are deep beneath the smothering ruin whelmed. 
 
 Now, all amid the rigors 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, sheltered, solitary scene ; 
 Where ruddy fire and beaming tapers join 
 To cheer the gloom. There studious let me sit, 
 And hold high converse with tho mighty dead ; 
 Sages of ancient time, as gods revered. 
 As gods beneficent, who blessed mankind 
 AVith arts, with arms, and humanized a world. 
 
 Roused at tho inspiring thought, I throw aside 
 The long-lived 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 tyranU single stood. 
 Invincible ! calm reason's holy law. 
 That voice of God within the 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 undamped ; 
 Preserving still that quick peculiar fire. 
 Whence in the laurelled field of finer arts. 
 And of bold freedom, they unequalled shone, 
 Tho pride of smiling Greece, and humankind. 
 
 LVCCBCCS. — LEOSIDAS. 
 
 Lycurgus then, who bowed beneath tho force 
 Of strictest discipline, severely wise, 
 All human passions. Following him, I see, 
 
RURAL POETRY. THOMSON. 
 
 As at Thennopylse he glorious fell, 
 
 The firm devoted chief,' who proved by deeds 
 
 The hardest lesson which the other taught. 
 
 Then Aristides lifts his honest front ; 
 Spotless of heart, to whom the unflattering vo 
 Of Freedom gave the noblest name of Just ; 
 In pure majestic poverty revered ; 
 Who, e'en his glory to his country's weal 
 Submitting, swelled a haughty rival's 2 fame. 
 
 Reared by his care, of softer ray appears 
 Cimon, sweet-souled ; whose genius, rising strong. 
 Shook off the load of young debauch ; abroad 
 The scourge of Persian pride, at home the friend 
 Of every worth and every splendid art ; 
 Modest, and simple, in the pomp of wealth. 
 
 TIMOLEON. — PELOPIDA.. .,„„. 
 
 Then the last worthies of declining Gri...-, 
 Late called to glory, in unequal times. 
 Pensive, appear. The fair Corinthian boast, 
 Tinioleon, happy temper ! mild, and lirni. 
 Who wept the brotlier wlnlr the tyiant Idi-d. 
 And, equal to the be.^t, tin; 'I'li.lMri i«urv' 
 Whose virtues, in heroic concord joined. 
 Their country raised to freedom, empire, fame. 
 
 He too, with whom Athenian honor sunk, 
 And left a mass of sordid lees behind, 
 Phocion the Good ; in public life severe, 
 To virtue still inexorably iirm ; 
 But when, beneath his low illustrious roof. 
 Sweet Peace and happy Wisdom smoothed his brow, 
 Not Friendship softer 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 
 E'en .Sparta's self to servile avarice sunk^ 
 The two Achaian heroes close the train : 
 Aratus, who a while relumed the soul 
 Of fDiuUy lingering Liberty in Greece ; 
 And he her darling, as her latest hope. 
 The gallant Phil. q„, men ; who to arms 
 Turned the Iii.mim.m- |. .,,„,, i,, rnuld not curs 
 
 Or toiling in hi i , i ^vuin. 
 
 Or, bold and -I, , , , ,,,^ i,, the field. 
 
 Of rougher front, a mighty people come ! 
 A raee of heroes ! in those virtuous times 
 Which knew no stain, save that with partial flame 
 Their dearest country they too fondly lined : 
 Her better Founder first, the light of Home, 
 Numa, who softened her rapacious sons ; 
 
 Themistocles. 
 
 Servius the king, who laid the solid base 
 On which o'er earth the vast republic spread. 
 Then the great consuls venerable rise : 
 The public Fathey ' who the private quelled, 
 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 Cineinnatus, awful from the plough. 
 
 REGOLUS. — SCIPIO. — CICERO. — CATO. — BEUTOS. 
 
 Thy willing victim,^ Carthage, bursting loose 
 From all tliat pleading Nature could oppose, 
 I'l-.iiii II wh.ilc fity's tears, by rigid faith 
 I Mi|>ri ii.ii- iiilhd, and Honor's dire command ; 
 .~i qii", thr pintle chief, humanely brave, 
 M ho soon the race of spotless glory ran. 
 And, warm in youth, to the poetic shade 
 With Friendship and Philosophy retired ; 
 Tully, whose powerful eloquence a while 
 Restrained the rapid fate of rushing Rome ; 
 Unconquered Cato, virtuous in extreme ; 
 And thou, unhappy Brutus, kind of heart, 
 Whose steady arm, by awful virtue urged. 
 Lifted the Roman steel against thy friend : 
 Thousands besides the tribute of a verse 
 Demand ; but who can count the stars of heaven ? 
 Who sing their influence on this lower world ? 
 
 VIRGIL. — HOMER AND THE GRECIAN WRITERS. 
 
 Behold, who yonder comes ! in sober state. 
 Fair, mild, and strong, as is a vernal sun : 
 'T is Pho?bus' self, or else the Mantuan swain ! 
 Great Homer too appears, of daring wing. 
 Parent of song ! and, equal by his side. 
 The British Muse ; joined hand in hand they walk. 
 Darkling, full up the middle steep to fame. 
 Nor abfeni air Ihi.-r .-Iiuiks, whose skilful touch 
 Pathetif dun ih. iiii|,a.,i,ined heart, and charmed 
 Transpiirtrd Allirii> uith the moral scene ; 
 Nor tho^c wlin, tuiKtul, waked the enchanting lyre. 
 
 First of your kind ! society divine ! 
 Still visit thus my nights, for you reserved, 
 And mount my soaring soul to thoughts like yours. 
 Silence, thou lonely power ! the door be thine ; 
 See on the hallowed hour that none intrude, 
 
 ideii 
 
 i Pelopidas and Epaminondas. 
 
 To bless in.v hiinihl,. iM,.|, iiiih Mai-r refined, 
 
 Unstudied Hit,, and liumur evir yay. 
 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 though not sweeter his own Homer sings, 
 Yet is his life the more endearing song. 
 
 Where art thou, Hammond? thou, the darling 
 pride, 
 1 Lucius Junius Brutus. 2 Regulus. 
 
•WINTER — DECBMBBR. 
 
 401 
 
 The friend and lover of tho tuneful throng ! 
 Ah, why, dear youth, in all tho blooming primo 
 Of vernal genius, where disclosing fast 
 Eaeh active worth, each manly virtue lay, 
 Why wert thou ravished from our hope so soon ? 
 What now avails that noble thirst of fame, 
 Which stung thy fervent breast ? thot treasured store 
 Of knowledge early gained ? 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 tho Muse, 
 That heart of friendship, and that soul of joy. 
 Which bade with softest light thy virtues smilo ? 
 Ah ! only showed, to check our fond pursuits, 
 And teach our bumbled hopes that life is vain ! 
 pmLosopmc specvlatioss is a wi! 
 
 Thus in some deep retirement would I pass 
 The winter-glooms, with friends of pliant soul, 
 Or blithe, or solemn, as the theme inspired, 
 With them would search, if Nature's boundless frame 
 Was called, late-rising from the void of night, 
 Or sprung eternal from the Eternal Jlind ; 
 Its life, its laws, its progress, and its end. 
 Hence larger prospects of tho beauteous whole 
 Would, gradual, open on our opening minds ; 
 And each dififusive harmony unite 
 In full perfection to the astonished eye. 
 Then would wc try to scan tho moral world, 
 Wliuh. ili..u;:h to us it seems embroiled, moves on 
 III lii_'li, r ..plrr ; fitted and impelled 
 l;y W i-<inm'.- liuf^t hand, and issuing all 
 
 STl-DY OF THE pmLOSOpnT OF HISTOItV AND OF POLmCAL 
 ECONOMY. — PUBLIC ;^IMIIIT. 
 
 The sage historic Muse 
 Should next conduct us through the deeps of time : 
 Show us how empire grew, declined, and fell, 
 In scattered 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 wc talked, 
 Our hearts would bum within us, would inhalo 
 That portion of divinity, that ray 
 Of purest heaven, which lights the public soul 
 Of patriots and of heroes. 
 
 THK VIKTCES or PRIVATS IIPE ClI.TlVATRn IS WISTEB BE- 
 
 But if doomed. 
 In powerless humble fortune, to repress 
 These ardent risings of tho kindling soul ; 
 Then, e'en superior to ambition, wo 
 Would Iciim the private virtues : how to glide 
 Thrtiui;h sluviU-^ nnd plains, along tho smoothest 
 Of rural life; or ."Hatched away by hope, [stream 
 Through the dim simces of futurity, 
 AVith earnest eye anticipate those scenes 
 Of happiness and wonder ; where the mind. 
 
 51 
 
 In endless growth nnd infinite ascent. 
 
 Rises from state to state, and world to world. 
 
 But, when with these the serious thouglit is foiled, 
 
 Wc, shifting for relief, would play the shapes 
 
 Of frolic Fancy ; and incessant form 
 
 Those rapid pictures, that assembled train 
 
 Of fleet ideas, never joined before, 
 
 Whence lively Wit excites to gay surprise ; 
 
 Or folly-painting Humor, grave himself, 
 
 Calls Laughter forth, deep-shaking every nervo. 
 
 S ; DASCISO. 
 
 Meantime tho village rouses up tho firo j 
 While well attested, and as well believed, 
 Heard solemn, goes the goblin 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, 
 Basily pleased ; the long loud laugh, sincere ; 
 The kiss, snatched hasty from the sidelong maid. 
 On purpose guardlcss, or pretending sleep : 
 Tho leap, the slap, the haul ; and, shook to notes 
 Of native music, the respondent dance. 
 Thus jocund fleets with them the winter-night. 
 
 Tho city swarms intense. The public haunt. 
 Full of each theme, and warm with mixed discourse, 
 Hums indijtiiK't. The s..ns .if ri.it tlc.w 
 
 Friends, families, and fortune, headlong sink. 
 
 Up springs tho dance along tho lighted dome. 
 
 Mixed and evolved, a thousand sprightly ways. 
 
 Tho glittering court effuses every pomp ; 
 
 The circle deepens : beamed from gaudy robes. 
 
 Tapers, and sparkling gems, nnd radiant eyes, 
 
 A soft effulgence o'er the palace waves : 
 
 While, a gay insect in his summer-shine, 
 
 Tho fop, light-fluttering, spreads his mealy wings. 
 
 THE DRAMA. 
 
 Dread o'er the scene, tho ghost of Hamlet stalks; 
 Othello rages ; poor Monimia mourns j 
 And Belvidera pours her soul in love. 
 Terror alarms the breast ; the comely tear 
 Steals o'er the check : or else tho Comic Muse 
 Holds to the world a picture of itself. 
 And raises sly tho fair impartial laugh. 
 Sometimes she lifts her strain, and paints tho scenes 
 Of beauteous life ; whate'er can deck mankind. 
 Or charm the heart, in generous Bevil ' showed. 
 
 thon, whoso wisdom, solid yet refined. 
 Whose patriot virtues, and consummate skill 
 1 A character in 'The Conscious Lovers,' by Sir B. Steele. 
 
402 
 
 RURAL POETRY. THOMSON. 
 
 To touch tho finer springs that move the world, 
 
 Joined to whate'er tho Graces can bestow, 
 
 And all Apollo's animating fire, 
 
 Give thee, with pleasing dignity, to shine 
 
 At once the guardian, ornament, and joy, 
 
 Of polished life ; permit the rural Muse, 
 
 Chesterfield ! to grace with thee her song. 
 
 Ere to the shades again she humbly fiies, 
 
 Indulge her fond ambition in thy ti iin 
 
 (For every Muse has in tl \ t | 1 ) 
 
 To mark thy various full ill' ' 
 
 To mark that spirit nl 1 11 
 
 Rejects the allurements ui l n 4 tt I i \i.i 
 
 That elegant politene-is which excels 
 
 E'en in the judgment of pie umptuous France 
 
 The boasted manners cf her shining couit 
 
 That wit, the viwd uiLife} of sense. 
 
 The truth of Xature. wliieh, with Attic point, 
 
 And kind well-tL-mpired satire, smoothly keen. 
 
 Steals through the soul, and without pain corrects. 
 
 Or, rising thence with yet a brighter flame, 
 
 let me hail thee on some glorious day, 
 
 When to the listening senate, ardent, crowd 
 
 Britannia's sons to hear her pleaded cause. 
 
 Then, dressed by thee, more ami.ably fair. 
 
 Truth the soft robe nf mild Persuasion wears : 
 
 Thou to asscntiiiL' i;< ;i-"n 'jIv'-I again 
 
 Herownenli-lii , , > ilkdfromtheheart. 
 
 The obedient i-.i ■ ••"•■<-■ attend; 
 
 And e'en rchu'tLLjit I'lhIv I. .1- a while 
 
 Thy gracious power, as through the varied maze 
 
 Of eloquence, now smooth, now cjuick, now strong. 
 
 Profound and clear, you roll the copious flood. 
 
 To thy loved haunt return, my happy Muse ; 
 For now, behold, the joyous winter-days, 
 Frosty, succeed ; and through the blue serene, 
 For sight too fine, the ethereal nitre flies, 
 Killing infectious damps, and the spent air 
 Storing afresh with elemental life. 
 Close crowds the shining atmosphere, and binds 
 Our strengthened bodies in its cold embrace. 
 Constringent ; feeds and animates our blood ; 
 Refines our spirits, through the new-strung neri 
 In swifter sallies darting to the brain ; 
 Whore sits the soul, intense, collected, cool. 
 Bright as tho skies, and as the season keen. 
 
 All Nature feels the renovating force 
 Of Winter, only to the thoughtless eye 
 In ruin seen. The frost-eoncocted glebe 
 Draws in abundant vegetable soul. 
 And gathers vigor for the coming year. 
 A stronger glow sits on the lively cheek 
 Of ruddy fire, and luculent along 
 Tho purer rivers flow ; their sullen deeps. 
 Transparent, open to the shepherd's gaze. 
 And murmur hoarser at the fixing frost. 
 
 FBOST, ITS NATURE ; THE STREAM FREEZING. 
 
 What art thou. Frost ? and whence are thy keen 
 Derived, thou secret all-invading power, [stores 
 Whom e'en the illusive fluid cannot fly ? 
 Is not thy potent energy, unseen. 
 Myriads of little salts, or hooked, or shaped 
 Like double wedges, and difi'used immense 
 Through watei, earth and ether ? Henee at eve, 
 ^t 11 iL 1 ( 1, 1 ft m the red horizon round, 
 \ f Winter deep suffused, 
 
 I ltin„ 'er the pool 
 ] I aud in its mid career 
 
 V n„ tieam. The loosened ice. 
 
 Let lown the floo 1 and half dissolved by day, 
 Rustles no moie but to the sedgy bank 
 Fast grows or gathers round the pointed stone, 
 A ciystal pavement, by the breath of heaven 
 Cemented firm ; till, seized from shore to shore, 
 The whole imprisoned 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 waterfall 
 Swells in the breeze ; and, with the hasty tread 
 Of traveller, the hollow-sounding plain 
 Shakes from afar. The full ethereal round. 
 Infinite worlds disclosing to the view. 
 Shines out intensely keen ; and, all one cope 
 Of starry glitter, glows from pole to pole. 
 
 waterfall; brook; forest. — the shepherd. 
 From pole to pole the rigid influence falls. 
 Through the still night, incessant, heavy, strong. 
 And seizes Nature fast. It freezes on ; 
 Till Morn, late ri.-in- .- , tli.' .li-.^ping world. 
 Lifts her pale cyr ir.i ;.. ;, T ,. 1, iqipcars 
 
 The 
 
 l.ab.i 
 
 Prone from the driii|.iii- lum', a-ul dumb cascade. 
 Whose idle torrents only seem to roar. 
 The pendent icicle ; the frost-work fair. 
 Where transient hues and fancied figures rise ; 
 
 1 Wide-spouted o'er the hill, the frozen brook, 
 A livid tract, eold-gleaming on the morn ; 
 The forest bent beneath the plumy wave ; 
 
 I And by the frost refined the whiter snow. 
 Encrusted hard, and sounding to tho tread 
 Of early shepherd, as he pensive seeks 
 His pining flock, or from the mountain top. 
 Pleased with the slippery surface, swift descends. 
 
 On blithesome frolics, bent, the youthful swains, 
 While every work of man is laid at rest, 
 Fond o'er the river crowd, in various sport 
 And revelry dissolved ; where mixing glad. 
 Happiest of all the train ! the raptured boy 
 Lashes the whirling top. Or, where the Rhine 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 Bmnohod out in many a long canal oxtonds, 
 From ovory province swarming, void of core, 
 liatavia rushes forth ; and as thoy swoop. 
 On sounding skates, a thousand different ways, 
 In circling poise, swift as the winds, along. 
 The then gay 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 raise 
 Tho monly strife, with highly-blooming charms, 
 Flushed by tho season, Scandinavia's dames. 
 Or Russia's buxom daughters, glow around. 
 
 TUB SHORT WLSTEH'S DIV. — FEBBL! KFPBCra OF TUg SCH'S 
 
 Pure, quick, and sportful, is the wholesome day j 
 But soon elapsed. The horizontal sun. 
 Broad o'er the south, hangs at its utmost noon, 
 And, ineffectual, strikes the gelid cliCT; 
 His azure gloss tho mountoin still maintains. 
 Nor feels the feeble touch. Perhaps the valo 
 Relents a while to the reflected ray ; 
 Or from the forest falls tho clustered 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 tho fields ; 
 And, adding to the ruins of the year. 
 Distress the footed or tho feathered game. 
 
 AX ABCTIO WISTBR. — TBe EXILE OP SIDERU. — DESOLATE 
 
 But what is this ? Our infant Winter sinks, 
 Divested of his grandeur, should our eye 
 Astonished shoot into the frigid zone. 
 Whore, for relentless months, continual Night 
 Holds o'er the glittering waste her starry reign. 
 There, through the prison of unbounded wilds. 
 Barred by the hand of Nature from escape, 
 Wide roams the Russian exile. Naught around 
 Strikes his sad eye but deserta lost in snow ; 
 And heavy-loaded groves ; and solid floods. 
 That stretch athwart the solitary waste 
 Their icy horrors to the frozen main j 
 And cheerless towns far distant, never blessed, 
 .Save when its annual course the caravan 
 Bends to the golden coast of rich Cathay,* 
 With news of human kind. 
 
 Yet there life glows ; 
 Yet cherished there, beneath the shining waste, 
 Tho furry nations harbor : tipped with jet. 
 Fair ermines, spotless as the snows they press ; 
 Sables, of glossy black ; and dark embrowned, 
 Or beauteous freaked with many a mingled hue, 
 Thousands besides, the costly pride of courts. 
 There, warm together pressed, tho trooping deer 
 
 Sleep on tho new-fallen snows ; and, scarce his head 
 Raised o'er the heapy wreath, the branching elk 
 Lies slumbering sullen in the white abyss. 
 Tho ruthless hunter wants nor dogs nor toils. 
 Nor with the dread of sounding bows he drives 
 The fearful flying raco ; with ponderous clubs, 
 As weak against the mountain-heaps they push 
 Their beating breast in vain, and piteous bray. 
 He lays them quivering on tho ensanguined snows. 
 And with loud shouts rejoicing bears them home. 
 There through tho piny forest half absorbed, 
 Rough tenant of these shades, the shapeless bear. 
 With dangling ico all horrid, stalks forlorn ; 
 Slow-paced, and sourer as tho storms increase, 
 He makes his bed beneath the inclement drift. 
 And with stern patience, scorning weak complaint. 
 Hardens his heart against assailing want. 
 
 TUB SCYTHIAN RACE. — THE ARMUBY OF PROVIOKSCB. 
 
 Wide o'er the spacious regions of the north. 
 That see Bootes urge his tar'lv nviin, 
 A boisterous race, by fn I- 1 y I'mni-' | i< r.ril, 
 Who little pleasure kimw ,n,il lr;ir rm | liii. 
 Prolific swarm. They "ii'i- r. lum.-.l th. il^ime 
 Of lost mankind, in polished slavery sunk ; 
 Drove martial horde on horde,' with dreiiilful sweep 
 Resistless rushing o'er the enfeebled south. 
 And gave the vanquished world another form. 
 
 No 
 
 such the 
 
 sons 
 
 uf Lapland : wisely they 
 
 Despi 
 Thcv 
 
 
 n^'llr 
 
 
 
 p. 11, 
 
 III simple Nature gives j 
 
 Thiv 
 
 ..\i' tip u 
 
 ni.'U 
 
 i;iins and enjoy their sto 
 
 No la 
 
 
 . )i" 1 
 
 rule-created wants, 
 
 Disturb the pea 
 
 ccful 
 
 current of their time : 
 
 And through the restless, ever-tortured maze 
 
 Of pie 
 
 asure, or 
 
 arabi 
 
 ion, bid it rage. 
 
 Their 
 
 form their riche 
 
 These theii 
 
 1 The old r 
 
 rChiD 
 
 Their rubes, their beds, and all their homely wealth 
 
 Supply, their wholesome fare and cheerful cups. 
 
 Obsequious at their call, the docile tribo 
 
 Yield to the sled their necks, and whirl them swift 
 
 O'er hill and dale, heaped into ono expanse 
 
 Of marbled snow, as far as eye can sweep, 
 
 With a blue crust of ico unbounded glazed. 
 
 By dancing meteors then, that ceaseless shako 
 A waving blaze refracted o'er the heavens, 
 And vivid moons, and stars that keener play 
 M'ith doubled lustre from the glossy waste. 
 E'en in the depth of polar night they find 
 A wondrous day j enough to light tho chose. 
 Or guide their during steps to Finland fairs. 
 
 THE ARCTIC SPRISO AMD SUMMER; TOE SrS'S COrRSE i 
 
 Wished Spring returns ; and from tho hazy south 
 While dim Aurora slowly moves before, 
 1 The north-west wind. - The wandering Scythian clans. 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 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 reascends the sky. 
 
 In that glad season, from the lakes and floods, 
 
 Where pure Niemi's ^ fairy mountains rise, 
 
 And fringed with roses Tenglio ^ rolls his stream, 
 
 They draw the copious fry. With these, at eve, 
 
 They cheerful loaded to their tents repair ; 
 
 Where, all day long in useful cares employed. 
 
 kind unblemished i 
 
 prepare. 
 
 Thrice happy race ! by poverty 
 
 From legal plunder and rapacious power : 
 
 In whom fell interest never yet has sown 
 
 The seeds of vice : whose spotless swains ne'er know 
 
 Injurious deed, nor, blasted by the breath 
 
 Of faithless love, their blooming daughters woe. 
 
 Still pressing on, beyond Tornea's lake. 
 And Hecla flaming through a waste of snow, 
 And furthest Greenland, to the pole itself, 
 Where, failing gradual, life at length goes out, 
 The Muse o.xpands her solitary flight ; 
 And, hovering o'er the wild stupendous scene. 
 Beholds new seas beneath another sky. 3 
 Throned in his palace of cerulean ice. 
 Here Winter holds his unrejoicing court ; 
 And through his airy hall the loud misrule 
 Of driving tempest is forever heard ; 
 Hero the grim tyrant nieditfitcs liis wr;ith ; 
 Here arms his winds wiHi :ill-!ii. hr i:; tv.,4. 
 Moulds his fierce hail, :nhl 1 1 . i m - ,i|. ;,i- snow.' 
 With which he now oppn—r- lull tlh- i^lnlic. 
 
 LANCHES ; THE VERT OCEAN fBOZE.V. 
 
 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 piled 
 Seem to the shivering sailor from afai*, 
 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 were again returned, 
 Wide-rend the deep, and shake the solid pole. 
 Ocean itself nu lun:;i'r can resist 
 Tbi' Inn. Ill, ■, hiM ; 1.1,1, 1,1 ,,11 i|. rage 
 
 Of tempest taken by the boundless frost, 
 Is many a fathom to the bottom chained. 
 And bid to roar no more : a bleak expanse. 
 Shagged o'er with wavy rocks, cheerless and void 
 Of every life, that from the dreary months 
 Flies conscious southward. 
 
 Miserable they ! 
 Who, here entangled in the gathering ice. 
 Take their last look of the descending sun ; 
 While, full of death, and fierci> with ttMi-f.,|,l frost, 
 The long, long night, incamli, i,t ,.', i tli, i, I,, ,i,ls, 
 
 Falls horrible. Such was tl,,' I :, ,i ,,- i , 
 
 As with first prow (what have ,,..( Iliit.ui, .li,,nl !) 
 
 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 sealed, he with his hapless crew. 
 
 Each full exerted at his several task, 
 
 Froze into statues ; to the cordage glued 
 
 The sailor, and the pilot to the helm. 
 
 THE SAMOIEDES, ETC. — THE OBT. — GROSS AND STDPID LIFE. 
 
 Hard by these shores, where scarce his freezing 
 Rolls the wild Oby, live the last of men ; [stream 
 And half enlivened by the distant sun. 
 That rears and ripens man, as well as plants. 
 Here human nature wears its rudest form. 
 Beep from the piercing season stink in caves, 
 Here by dull fires, and with unjoyous cheer, 
 They waste the tedious gloom. Immersed 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 quivered savage to the chase. 
 
 PETER THE GREAT HIS CONQUESTS OVER NATURE, THE 
 
 RUSSIANS, AND BARBARISM ; BIS HEROIC SELF-EDUCATION. 
 
 What cannot active government perform, 
 New-moulding man ? Wide-stretching from these 
 A people savage from remotest time, [shores, 
 
 A huge neglected empire, one vast mind, 
 By Heaven inspired, from Gothic darkness called. 
 Immortal Petor ! first of monarchs ! Ho 
 His stubborn country tamed, her rocks, her fens, 
 Her floods, her seas. !,,t ill-sutimif tin;^ sons ; 
 And while the ficrn- I,,,, l.„ii;, i, !,<■ -,ili,Uicd, 
 To more exalted soul !,.■ i„i.,-,l il,,- „kui. 
 Ye shades of ancient iiciuus, yc uUu Lulled 
 Through long successive ages to build up 
 A laboring plan of state, behold at once 
 The wonder done ! behold the matchless prince ! 
 Who left his native throne, where reigned till then 
 ' Queen Elizabeth to dig- 
 
A mighty shadow of unreal powor ; 
 Who greatlj epurned the slothful pomp of c 
 And roaming every land, in every port 
 His sceptre laid aside, with glorious hand 
 Unwearied plying the mechnuio tool, 
 Oathcrcd the seeds of trade, of useful arts. 
 Of civil wisdom, and of martial skill. 
 
 Charged with the stores of Europe homo ho goes ! 
 Then cities rise amid the illumined waste ; 
 O'er joyless deserts smiles the rural reign ; 
 Far-distant flood to flood is social joined ; 
 The astonished Euxinc hears the Baltic roar ; 
 Proud navies ride on seas that never foamed 
 With daring keel before ; and armies stretch 
 Each way their dazzling files, repressing hero 
 The frantic Alexander of the North, 
 And awing there stern Othman's shrinking sons. 
 Sloth flics the land, and Ignorance and Vice, 
 Of old dishonor proud ; it glows around, 
 Taught by the royal hand that roused the whole. 
 One scene of arts, of arms, of rising trade ; 
 For what his wisdom planned, and power enforced, 
 More potent still, his great example showed. 
 
 THB SOCTH WISD THAW. — FRKSHRTS ; POLAR ICE BREAKS 
 
 cp ; riELDS OP ICE ; icedbros. 
 JIuttcring, the winds at eve, with blunted point, 
 Blow hollow-blustering from the south. Subdued, 
 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 onco ; 
 .\nd, where they rush, the wide-resounding plain 
 Is left one slimy waste. Those sullen seas. 
 That washed the ungenial pole, will rest no more 
 Beneath the shackles of the mighty north ; 
 ! llut. l■nu^ill:; all their waves, resistless heave. 
 Anil hark I thi- lengthening roar continuous runs 
 luiut th.' rifted deep : at onco it bursts, 
 I pilfs a thimsand mountains to the clouds. 
 
 VESSEL CACOHT AMONGST THE FLOATISO ICE-FIELDS. 
 
 Ill fares the bark, with trembling wretches charged, 
 That, tossed amid the floating fragments, moors 
 Beneath the shelter of an icy isle. 
 While night o'erwhelms the sen, and horror looks 
 More horrible. Can human force endure 
 The assembled mischiefs that besiege them round? 
 Heart-gnawing hunger, fainting weariness. 
 The roar of winds and waves, the crush of ice, 
 Now ceasing, now renewed 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 loosened brine, while through tho gloom. 
 
 DECEMBER. 405 
 
 Far from tho bleak, inhospitable shore, 
 Loading tho winds, is hoard the hungry howl 
 Of famished monsters, there awaiting wrecks. 
 Yet Providence, that ever-waking eye. 
 Looks down with pity on tho feoblo toil 
 Of mortals lost to hope, and lights them safe 
 Through all this dreary labyrinth of fate. 
 
 TBE DEAD OF WtSTKR. — THE SEASONS A PICTCRE OP 
 UCHAX LIFE. — ALL 13 VANITT EXCEPT VIRTUE. 
 
 'Tis done ! dread Winter spreads his latest glooms, 
 And reigns tremendous o'er the conquered year. 
 How dead tho vegetable kingdom lies ! 
 How dumb the tuneful ! Horror wide extends 
 His desolate domain. Behold, fund man ! 
 See here thy pictured life ; pass some few years. 
 Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength, 
 Thy sober Autumn fading into ago, 
 And pale concluding Winter comes, at last, 
 .\nd shuts tho 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 shared thy life? 
 All now are vanished ! Virtue sole survives, 
 Immortal, never-failing friend of man. 
 His guide to happiness on high. 
 
 SPRING IS HEAVEN. — ALL MORAL PROBLEMS SOLVED. 
 
 And see ! 
 'T is come^ the glorious morn ! the second birth 
 
 Ofli'MMH aiil < irtli ' \\v:ii:'-tiing Nature hears 
 
 Tl„. ,,. .>..•:. i:i:.. •■- .: 1 ■.■:•! -lartS tolife, 
 
 X,i i-vi v Im ij !,;■ I.' •! : ■! .:i. I ! -Ml pain and death 
 
 l.\,r.A. r IVi r. TIm -'1- ,it ' ii 1 iial scheme. 
 
 Involving all, auJ iu ii pi-rtVct whole 
 
 Uniting, as the prospect wider spreads. 
 
 To Reason's eye refined clears up apace. 
 
 Ye vainly wise ! ye blind presumptuous ! now, 
 
 Confounded iu the dust, adore that Power 
 
 And Wisdom oft arraigned : see now the cause 
 
 Why unassuming Worth in secret lived. 
 
 And died neglected, — why tho good man's share 
 
 In life was gall and bitterness of soul, — 
 
 Why the lone widow and her orphans pined 
 
 In starving solitude, while Luxury 
 
 In palaces lay straining her low thought 
 
 To form unreal wants, — why heaven-born Truth, 
 
 And Moderation fair, wore tho red marks 
 
 Of Superstition's scourge, — why licensed Pain, 
 
 That cruel spoiler, that embosomed foe. 
 
 Embittered all our bliss. Ye good distressed ! 
 
 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, deemed evil, is no more : 
 
 Tho storms of wintry time will quickly pass, 
 
 And one unbounded Spring encircle all. 
 
|iisioniIs for J^nnnhr. 
 
 SHENSTONE'S "ABSENCE." 
 
 SHENSTONE'S "DISAPPOINTMENT." 
 
 Ye shepherds so cheerful and gay, 
 
 Ye shepherds, give ear to my lay, 
 
 Whose flocks never ciirelessly roam ; 
 
 And take no more heed of my sheep : 
 
 Should Corydon's happen to stray, 
 
 They have nothing to do but to stray, 
 
 0, call the poor wanderers home. 
 
 I have nothing to do but to weep. . 
 
 Allow me to muse and to sigh, 
 
 Yet do not my folly reprove : 
 
 Nor talk of the change that ye find ; 
 
 She was fair, and my passion begun ; 
 
 None once was so watchful as I t — 
 
 She smiled, and I could not but love ; ! 
 
 I hare left my dear Phillis behind. 
 
 She is faithless, and I am undone. 
 
 Now I know what it is to have strove 
 
 Perhaps I was void of all thought ; 
 
 With the torture of doubt and desire ; 
 
 Perhaps it was plain to foresee 
 
 What it is to admire and to love, 
 
 That a nymph so complete would be sought 
 
 And to leave her we love and admire. 
 
 By a swain more engaging than me. 
 
 Ah ! lead forth my flock in the morn. 
 
 Ah ! love every hope can inspire : 
 
 And the damps of each evening repel : 
 
 It banishes wisdom the while ; 
 
 Alas ! I am faint and forlorn : — 
 
 And the lip of the nymph we admire 
 
 I have bade my dear Phillis farewell. 
 
 Seems forever adorned with a smile ! 
 
 Since Phillis vouchsafed me a look, 
 
 She is faithless, and I am undone ; 
 
 I never once dreamed of my vine ; 
 
 Ye that witness the woes I endure, 
 
 May I lose both my pipe and my crook. 
 
 Let reason instruct you to shun 
 
 If I knew of a kid that was mine ! 
 
 What it cannot instruct you to cure. 
 
 I prized every hour that wont by. 
 
 Beware how you loiter in vain 
 
 Beyond all that had pleased me before ; 
 
 Amid nymphs of a higher degree : 
 
 But now they are passed, and I sigh. 
 
 It is not for me to explain 
 
 And I grieve that I prized them no more. 
 
 How fair and how fickle they be. 
 
 But why do I languish in vain? 
 
 Alas ! from the day that we met 
 
 Why wander thus pensively here ? 
 
 What hope of an end to my woes. 
 
 0, why did I come from the plain 
 
 When I cannot endure to forget 
 
 Where I fed on the smiles of my dear? 
 
 The glance that undid my repose ! 
 
 They tell me, my favorite maid. 
 
 Yet time may diminish the pain : 
 
 The pride of that valley, is flown ; 
 
 The flower, and the shrub, and the tree. 
 
 Alas ! where with her I have strayed, 
 
 Which I reared for her pleasure in vain. 
 
 I could wander with pleasure alone. 
 
 In time may have comfort for me. 
 
 When forced the fair nymph to forego, 
 
 The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose, 
 
 What anguish I felt at my heart ! 
 
 The sound of a murmuring stream, 
 
 Yet I thought, but it might not be so. 
 
 The peace which from solitude flows, 
 
 'Twas with pain when she saw me depart. 
 
 Henceforth shall bo Corydon's theme. 
 
 She gazed as I slowly withdrew ; 
 
 High transports are shown to the sight. 
 
 My path I could hardly discern ; 
 
 But we are not to find them our own : 
 
 , So sweetly she bade me adieu, 
 
 Fate never bestowed such delight 
 
 1 I thought that she bade me return. 
 
 As I with my Phillis had known. 
 
 The pilgrim that journeys all day 
 
 0, ye woods, spread your branches apace ; 
 
 To visit some far-distant shrine, 
 
 To your deepest recesses I fly ; 
 
 If he hear but a relic away, 
 
 I would hide with the beasts of the chase, 
 
 Is happy, nor heard to repine. 
 
 I would vanish from every eye. . 
 
 Thus, widely removed from the fair, 
 
 Yet my reed shall resound through the grove 
 
 Where my vows, my devotion, 1 owe. 
 
 With the same sad complaint it begun ; 
 
 Soft hope is the relic I bear, 
 
 How she smiled, and I could not but love ; 
 
 And my solaxje wherever I go. 
 
 Was faithless, and I am undone ! 
 
(1 valiiir'5 "p;iri':.l) ,ilciustrr/' 
 
 True Chrisllan rwignatlon 
 Ilc^istcr a melanclinly record. A (lying man, who at 
 lenijtli sends for a i)rii-st ; f.)r what imrposc ? answered. 
 Old Collet, or the inn, an instance of Dr. Young's slow- 
 sudden death ; his character and conduct. The manners 
 and management of the Widow Qoe ; her successful at- 
 tention to bu.-iiiitss ; her decease unexpected. The infant 
 boy of Gerard Ablelt dies ; reflections on his death, and 
 tlic surriror, his sisler-twin. The lUncral of the deceased 
 lady of the manor described ; her neglected mansion ; 
 undertnlter and train ; the character which her monu- 
 ment will hereafter display. Burial of an ancient maiden; 
 some former drawback on her virgin fame ; description of 
 her house and household i her manners, apprehensions, 
 death. Isaac Ashford, a virtuous peasant, dies; his manly 
 character ; reluctance to enter the poor-house ; and why. 
 Misfortune and derangement of intellect in Robin Dinglcy; 
 whence they proceeded ; he is not restrained by misery 
 from a wandering life ; his various returns to Ijis ikhimIi ; 
 his final return. Wife of farmer Franklii li n , him 
 of life ; affliction in cansc<|uence of sii. l< 
 choly view of herhouse, &c., on her f;iii .' 
 
 wife ; her character ; and 
 
 0|>posed by Doctor Olibb ; opposition in tin- ]..iri3li ; iir- 
 (Tumcnt of tlie doctor ; of Leali ; her failure and decease. 
 Burial of Roger Cuff, a sailor ; his enmity to his family ; 
 how it originated ; his experiment and its consequence. 
 Tlie Register terminates; a bell heard ; inquiry for whom. 
 The sexton. Character of old Dibble, and the five rectors 
 whom he served. Reflections. Conclusion. 
 
 DKATB-I 
 
 There was, 't is said, and I believe, a time, 
 When humble Christians died with views sublime 
 Mhcu all were ready for their faith to bleed, 
 But few to write or wrangle for their creed ; 
 M'ben lively faith upheld the sinlting heart, 
 And friends assured to meet, prepared to part ; 
 When love felt hope, when sorrow grew serene. 
 And all was comfort, in the death-bed scene. 
 
 Alas ! when now the gloomy king they wait, 
 T is weakness yielding to resistless fate ; 
 Like wretched men upon tho ocean cost. 
 They labor hard and struggle to tho Inst ; 
 ' Hope against hope,' and wildly gaze around, 
 In search of help, that never shall bo found ; 
 Nor, till the last strong billow stops tho breath, 
 Will they believe them in the jaws of death ! 
 
 GLOOMY RCTKOSPECTIOS. — RESIGNATION fSCSL-AL. 
 
 When these my records I reflecting read, 
 And find what ills these numerous births succeed ; 
 What powerful griefs these nuptial tics attend, 
 AVith what regret these painful journeys end ; 
 When from the cradle to tho grave I look. 
 Mine I conceive a melancholy book. 
 
 Where now is perfect resignation seen ? 
 Alas ! it is not on tho village-green, — 
 I 'vo seldom known, though I have oflon read| 
 
 I Of happy peasants on their dying bed j 
 
 Whoso looks proclaimed that sunshine of tho breast, 
 ( That more than hope, that henvon itself expressed. 
 
 COMMON PEATU-UED SCENES. 
 
 What I behold are feverish fits of strife, 
 I 'Twijct fears of dying and desire of life ; 
 Those earthly hopes, that to the last endure ; 
 Those fears, that hopes superior fail to cure ; 
 At best, that sad submission to the doom. 
 That, turning from tho danger, lets it come. 
 Sick lies tho man, bewildered, lost, afraid, 
 His spirits vanquished and his strength decayed ; 
 No hope the friend, the nurse, tho doctor, lend — 
 ' Call then a priest, and fit him for his end ;' 
 A priest is called, 't is now, alas ! too late, 
 Heath enters with him, at tho cottage gate ; 
 ' '1- time allowed — ho goes, assured to find 
 The self-commending, all-cunfiding mind ; 
 And sighs to hear what we may justly call 
 Death's Commonplace, the train of thought in all. 
 
 'True, I'm :i .-hi,,.-.; !.■. l.ii i,. I„ _.,„,_ 
 
 'But trust ill II.. I ■;,. I . 1 ;,i •, 
 
 (Such cool ciJiil.-M i'li II' ij.i- -I i I 1 :iii. t \. iU' ! 
 
 Such claim on meny, ao a .■.inuers ught '.) 
 
 ' I know mankind are frail, that God is good. 
 
 And none have lived as wisdom wills they should ; 
 
 We 'ro sorely tempted in a world like this ; 
 
 All men have done, and I, liko all, amiss ; 
 
 But now, if spared, it is my full intent 
 
 To think about beginning to repent : 
 
 Wrongs against me I pardon, great and small. 
 
 And if I die, I die in pence with all.' 
 
 His merits thus and not his sins confessed, 
 
 ne speaks his hopes and leaves to heaven tho rest. 
 
 Alas ! arc these tho prospects, dull and cold. 
 
 That dying Christians to their priests unfold 7 
 
 Or mends tho prospect, when the enthusiast cries, 
 
 ' I die assured ! ' and in a rapturo dies ? 
 
 PROPER DEATH-BED FEELINGS DESCRIBED. 
 
 Ah, where that humble, self-abasing mind, 
 With that confiding spirit shall wc find ; 
 That feels the useful pain repentance brings. 
 Dejection's sorrows and contrition's stings ; 
 And then the hope that Heaven these griofs approve, 
 And lastly joy that springs from pardoning lovo t 
 
 Such have I seen in death, and much doploro 
 So many dying — that I see no more : 
 Iio ! now my records, where I grieve to trace, 
 How death has triumphed in so short a spaco ; 
 
RURAL POETKY. CRABBE. 
 
 Who are the dead, how died they, I relate, 
 And snatch some portion of their acts from fate. 
 
 With Andrew Collet we the year begin, 
 The blind, fat landlord of the old Crown-Inn : 
 Big as his butt, and for the self-same use. 
 To take in stores of strong, fermenting juice. 
 On his huge chair beside the fire he sate, 
 In revel chief, and umpire in debate ; 
 Each night his string of vulgar talcs he told. 
 When ale was cheap, and baehelurs were bold ; 
 His heroes all were famous in their days, 
 Cheats were his boast, and drunkards had his praise. 
 ' One in three draughts three mugs of ale took down. 
 As mugs were then — the champion of the Crown ; 
 For thrice three days another lived on ale, 
 And knew no change but that of mild and stale ; 
 Two thirsty soakers watched a vessel's side, 
 When he the tap with dextrous hand applied ; 
 Nor from their seats departed, till they found 
 That butt was out, and heard the mournful sound.' 
 
 lie praised a poacher, precious child of fun ! 
 Who shot the keeper with his own spring-gun ; 
 Nor less the smuggler who the exciseman tied. 
 And left him hanging at the birch-wood side, 
 To ,.ori-h there ; - h„t rnie whn .nw him hang 
 
 The night's amusements kept him through the day. 
 
 He sang the praises of those times, when all 
 'For cards and dice as for thrii ill inl; i,ii^!,t mil ; 
 When justice winked on e\rn |,,,i,i| iru. 
 And ten-pins tumbled in t!h' ].:ii '. vnw," 
 
 He told, when angry wm- prn\Mkrii i,, rinl, 
 Or drive a third-day drunkard frum his ale, 
 ■\That were his triumphs, and how great the skill 
 That won the vexed virago to his will ; 
 Who raving came, — then talked in milder strain, — 
 Then wept, — then drank, and pledged her spouse 
 
 Such were his themes : how knaves o'er laws prevail. 
 Or, when made eaiilivr-', huw tiny fly from jail ; 
 The young how l.rav- , iir.« niMlr were the old ; 
 And oaths atte.-itrii all iliaf |..llv lold. 
 
 On death lil,r lii- iihai iianir -hall we bestow, 
 Sovery.-iai.l.n, ;, , I .<. i,iv -l,a,, ? 
 'Twas..|..v. ;— .||.i:i-r, aii'^iii.niiiig year by year. 
 Showed the glim lung by giadual steps broughtnear: 
 'T was not less sudden ; — in the night he died. 
 He drank, he swore, he jested, and he lied ; 
 Thus aiding folly with departing breath : — 
 ' Beware, Lorenzo, the slow-sudden death.' 
 
 Next died the Widow Goe, an active dame, j 
 
 Famed ten miles round, and worthy all her fame ; I 
 She lost her husband when their loves were young 
 But kept her farm, her credit, and her tongue : 
 
 Full thirty years she ruled with matchless skill. 
 With guiding judgment and resistless will ; 
 Advice she scorned, rebellions she suppressed. 
 And sons and servants, bowed at her behest. 
 Like that great man's who to his Saviour came 
 Were the strong words of this commanding dame ; 
 ■Come,' if she said, they came ; if 'go,' were gone; 
 And if 'do this,' that instant it was done : 
 Her maidens told she was all eye and ear, 
 In darkness saw .and could at distance hear ; 
 No parish business in the place could stir. 
 Without direction or assent from her ; 
 In turn, she took each office as it fell ; 
 Knew all their duties, and discharged them well ; 
 The lazy vagrants in her presence shook. 
 
 And pregn 
 
 mt dai 
 
 Who looked on w 
 
 Who felt w 
 
 ith roi 
 
 .She matehe 
 
 d both 
 
 And lent tl 
 
 em ev 
 
 Yet ceaseli 
 
 -s ^till 
 
 The workii 
 
 
 Like that i 
 
 odustri 
 
 her mind, 
 
 tinnvc, alert, alive, 
 II or empty hive ; 
 iiud, no thoughts of sex, 
 No cares of love, could her chaste soul perplex ; 
 But when our farmers made their amorous vows. 
 She talked of market-steeds and patent ploughs. 
 Not unemployed her evenings passed away. 
 Amusement closed as business waked the day ; 
 When to her toilet's brief concern she ran. 
 And conversation with her friends began ; 
 Who all were welcome at her board to share. 
 And joyous neighbors praised her Christmas fare ; 
 That none around might in their scorn complain 
 I'l i;n.-i|, liue as greedy in her gain. 
 
 I !in- hmg she reigned, admired if not approved, 
 I'l a i-r>l it not honored, feared if not beloved ; 
 \Vlien, as the busy days of spring drew near. 
 That called for all the forecast of the year ; 
 When lively hope the rising crops surveyed. 
 And April promised what September paid ; 
 AVhen strayed her lambs where gorse and green- 
 weed grow ; 
 When rose her grass in richer vales below ; 
 When pleased she looked on all the smiling land. 
 And viewed the hinds who wrought at her command. 
 As Bridget churned the butter for her hand 
 (Geese, hens, and turkeys following where she went) : 
 Then, dread o'ercame her — that her days were spent. 
 
 ' Bless me ! I die, and not a warning given, — 
 With much to do on earth, and all for heaven ! 
 No reparation for my soul's affairs. 
 No leave petitioned for the barn's repairs ; 
 Accounts perplexed, my interest yet unpaid. 
 
 My mind unsettled, and my will unmade ; 
 
 A lawyer haste, and in your way a priest ; 
 
 And let mo die in one good work, at least.' 
 
 She spake, and trembling dropped upon her knees. 
 
 Heaven in her eye, and in her hand her keys : 
 
 And as the more she found her life decay. 
 
 She grasped with greater force those signs of sway ; 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 Then fell and died ! — In linsto her sons drew near, 
 And dropped in haste the tributary tear, 
 Then from the adhering clasp the keys unbound, 
 And consolation for their sorrows found. 
 
 :nB DKATU OP AN INFANT. 
 
 Death has his infant-train ; hia bony arm 
 Strikes from the baby-cheek the rosy charm ; 
 The brightest oyo his glaiing film makes dim, 
 And his cold touch sets fast the lithcst limb j 
 He scijed the sickening hoy, to Gerard lent, ' 
 When three days' life in foeblo cries wore spent ; 
 In pain brought forth, those painful hours to stay, 
 To breathe in pain, and sigh ita soul away ! 
 
 ' But why thus lent, if thus recalled again. 
 To cause and feel, to live and die in pain ? ' 
 Or rather say, Why grievous these appear, 
 If all it i.a> - I". 1,. ,u, !,•< utornal year ; 
 If thcrr -.1 1 - i- .11,1 |.ii. ..us sighs secure 
 Deli"ht- iImi liM wli.n worlds no more endure? 
 
 The sL-t. r--|.iut l"ii;i iii:iy lodge below. 
 And paius from nature, pains from reason, know ; 
 Through all the common ills of life may run, 
 liy hope perverted, and by love undone ; 
 A wife's distress, a mother's pangs, may dread, 
 A widow's tears in bitter anguish shed ; 
 Jlay at old age arrive, through numerous harms. 
 To bear a grandchild in those feeble arms ; 
 Nor till by years of want and grief oppressed. 
 Shall the sad spirit flee and be at rest ! 
 
 Yet happier therefore shall we deem the boy, 
 Snat«:hcd from life's anxious cares and dangerous joy ! 
 
 Not 90 ! for then would love divine in vain 
 Send all the burthens weary men sustain ; 
 All that now check the passions, when they rage, 
 Youth's disappointments, the regrets of oge ; 
 All that now bid us hope, believe, endure. 
 Our sorrow's comfort, and our vice's cure ; 
 All that for heaven's high joys the spirits train. 
 And charity, the crown of all, were vain. 
 
 Blest is the nursling never taught to sing. 
 But thrust untimely from iU mother's wing ; 
 Or the grown warbler, who, with grateful voice. 
 Sings its own joy, and makes the grove rejoice ; 
 Because, ere yet ho charmed the attentive oar, 
 Ilard were his trials, and his pains severe ? 
 
 Nc.\t died the lady who yon hall possessed ; 
 And here they brought her noble bones to rest. 
 In town she dwelt ; — forsaken stood tho hall, 
 ^Vorms ate the floors, tho tapestry fled the wall ; 
 No Ore the kitchen's cheerless grate displayed; 
 No cheerful light the long-closed sash conveyed ! 
 The crawling worm, that turns a summer-fly. 
 Here spun his shroud, and laid him up to die 
 The wiiitcr-doath. Upon the bed of state. 
 The bat. shi ill-shrieking, wooed his bickering mate: 
 To empty ronins the curious came no more. 
 From empty cellars turned the angry poor. 
 And surly beggars cursed the over-bolted door. 
 I See p. 319. 
 
 To one small room the steword found his way. 
 Where tenants follow to complain and pay ; 
 Yet no complaint before tho lady came, 
 Tho feeling servant spared tho feeble damo ; 
 Who saw hor farms with his observing eyes. 
 And answered all requests with his replies. 
 Sho came not down her falling groves to view ; 
 Why should sho know what one so faithful knew? 
 Why como from many clamorous tongues to hear 
 What one so just might whisper in her car ? 
 Her oaks or acres why with care explore. 
 Why learn tho wants, the sufferings, of the poor. 
 When one so knowing all their worth could trace. 
 And one so piteous governed in hor place ? 
 
 TUS HEABTIESS OBSUQtHlH. 
 
 Lo ! now, what dismal sons of darkness come. 
 To bear this daughter of indulgence homo ! 
 Tragedians all, and well arranged in black ! 
 AVho nature, feeling, force, expression, lack ;— 
 Who cause no tear, but gloomily pass by. 
 And shake their sables in the wearied eye. 
 That turns dis-u.-to.l trum the i,..,m|»,ih .■^ceno, 
 
 Proud without _-i,iii.i' .11. uii! I Ml .11 uR-an! 
 
 The tear r.u- l,n.. m ' ' .•! . 
 
 For worth ik'-. i ' i ' o. i_ii i:. m i . . .n ll.iws ; 
 
 E'en woll-a-igui-d l',.>.-u,u l..f ..ui .- us cull. 
 
 And real tears for mimic miseries fall : — 
 But this poor farce has neither truth nor art, 
 To please the fancy or to touch the heart ; 
 Unliko tho diukui-^ .-t ihr -ky, that pours 
 On the dry Ki'mn'l 'i- L 1 1 ili'iu;.,' showers ; 
 Unliko to thiit niiiili .-Ink. - tliii soul with dread 
 When thunders roar and iorky fires are shed ; 
 Dark but not awful, dismal but yet mean, 
 With anxious bustle moves the cumbrous scene ; 
 Presents no objects, tender or profound. 
 But spreads its cold, unmeaning gloom around. 
 
 When woes are feigned, how ill such forms oppear. 
 And, ! how needless, when the woo 's sincere. 
 
 Slow to tho vault they come with heavy tread. 
 Bending beneath the lady and her lead ; 
 A case of elm surrounds that ponderous chest. 
 Close on that case the crimson velvet 's pressed ; 
 Ungenerous this, that to tho worm denies. 
 With niggard caution, his appointed prize ; 
 For now, ero yet he works his tedious way, 
 Through cloth, and wood, and metal, to his prey, 
 That prey, dissolving, shall a mass remain. 
 That Fancy loathes and worms themselves disdain. 
 
 But, SCO ! the master-mourner makes his way, 
 To end his office, for tho coffined clay ; 
 Pleased that our rustic men and maids behold 
 Uis plato like silver, and his studs like gold. 
 As they approach to spell tho ago, tho name. 
 And all tho titles of the illustrious damo. 
 
 This as (my duty done) some scholar i 
 A village-father looked disdain, and said 
 
410 
 
 KURAL POETRY. — CRABBE. 
 
 ' Away, my friends ! why take such pains to know 
 What some brave marble soon in church shall show ? 
 Where not alone her gracious name shall stand, 
 But how she lived, the blessing of the land ; 
 How much we all deplored the noble dead, 
 What groans we uttered, and what tears we shed ; 
 Tears true as those that in the sleepy eyes 
 Of weeping cherubs on the stone shall rise ; 
 Tears true as those that, ere she found her grave. 
 The noble lady to our sorrows gave.' 
 
 THE PRUDISH SPINSTER. 
 
 Down by the church-way walk, and where the 
 
 Winds round the chancel, like a shepherd's crook ; 
 In that small house, with those green pales before. 
 Where jasmine trails on either side the door ; 
 Where those dark shrubs, that now grow wild at will. 
 Were clipped in form, and tantalized with skill ; 
 Where cockles blanched, and pebbles neatly spread, 
 Formed shining borders for the larkspurs' bed ; — 
 There lived a lady, wise, austere, and nice. 
 Who showed her virtue by her scorn of vice ; 
 In the dear fashions of her youth she dressed, 
 A pea-green Joseph was her favorite vest ; 
 Erect she stood, she walked with stately mien, [lean. 
 Tight was her length of stays, and she was tall and 
 
 There long she lived in maiden state immured. 
 From looks of love and treacherous man secured ; 
 Though evil fame (but that was long before) 
 Had blown her dubious blast at Catharine's door: — 
 A captain thither rich from India came. 
 And, though a cousin called, it touched her fame ^ 
 Her annual stipend rose from his behest. 
 And all the long-prized treasures she possessed : 
 If aught like joy a while appeared to stay 
 In that stern face, and chase those frowns away, 
 'T was when those treasures she disposed for view. 
 And heard the praises to their splendor due : 
 
 Silks beyond price, so rich they 'd stand alone. 
 And diamonds blazing on the buckled zone ; 
 Rows of rare pearls, by curious workmen set, 
 And bracelets fair, in box of glossy jet ; 
 Bright polished amber, precious from its size. 
 Or forms the fairest fancy could devise : 
 Her drawers of cedar shut with secret springs. 
 And held the golden wateh, the ruby rings ; 
 Letters, long proofs of love, and verses fine 
 Round the pinked rims of crisped valentine. 
 Her China closet, cause of daily care. 
 For woman's wonder, held her pencilled ware ; 
 That pictured wealth of China and Japan, 
 Like its cold mistress, shunned the eye of man. 
 
 Her neat small room, adorned with maiden taste, 
 A clipped French puppy first of favorites graced. 
 A parrot next, but dead, and stuffed with art 
 (For Poll, when living, lost the lady's heart. 
 And then his life ; for he was heard to speak 
 Such frightful words as tinged the lady's cheek) ; 
 
 Unhappy bird ! who had no power to prove, 
 Save by such speech, his gratitude and love. 
 A gray old cat his whiskers licked beside ; 
 A type of sadness in the house of pride. 
 The polished surface of an India chest, 
 A glassy globe, in frame of ivory prest j 
 Where swam two finny creatures ; one of gold. 
 Of silver one ; both beauteous to behold : 
 All these were formed the guiding taste to suit ; 
 
 The beasts well maim. !■ I, 1 I'l' ntH,~mute : 
 
 A widowed aunt wa ■ i ' 1 1 y need 
 
 The nymph to flattr. I ■ i. nl ; 
 
 Who, veiling well h.r .in, . i. In. .1 thf clog. 
 Mute as the fish, and fawning as thr dug. 
 
 EARTHLY AND HEAVENLY TREASURES. 
 
 As years increased, these treasures, her delight. 
 Arose in value, in their owner's sight : — 
 A miser knows that, view it as he will, 
 A guinea kept is but a guinea still : 
 And so he puts it to its proper use, 
 That something more this guinea may produce : — 
 But silks and rings in the possessor's eyes, 
 The oftener seen, the more in value rise, 
 And thus are wisely hoarded, to bestow 
 On pride that governs pleasure that will grow. 
 But what availed their worth — if worth had they — 
 In the sad summer of her slow decay ? 
 Then we beheld her turn and anxious look 
 From trunks and chests, and fix it on her book ; 
 A rich-bound book of prayer the captain gave 
 (Some princess had it, or was said to have). 
 And then once more on all her stores look round. 
 And draw a sigh so piteous and profound. 
 That told, ' Alas ! how hard from these to part. 
 And for new hopes and habits form the heart ! ' 
 ' What shall I do (she cried), my peace of mind 
 To gain in dyiiiL'. nii.I t.. .li.- r'-i""'-"! '.'' 
 
 'Hear,' «.■ i. I..;;.. : '' . ' ' 'I'' cast aside. 
 
 Nor give tliv i;...l ;, .,, i.' ; 
 
 Thy closets ,^liut, :ii..l ..|..' 11. X 1..I. I..'!,',-, door ; 
 There own thy failings, here invite the poor ; 
 A friend of Mammon let thy bounty make, 
 For widows' prayers thy vanities forsake. 
 And let the hungry nf tliy pride iwrtalce : 
 Then shall thy inwai.l . \. uiil. .j. y .urvcy 
 The angel Mercy t,eiii|...i Iiil; i'.;iil['- .lelay !' 
 
 Alas ! 'twas hard; th.' tri;i<iin - .-till had charms, 
 Hope still its flattery, sickness its alarms ; 
 Still was the same unsettled, clouded view. 
 And the same plaintive cry, ' What shall I do ? ' 
 
 Nor change appeared; for, when her race was run. 
 Doubtful wc all exclaimed, ' What has been done V ' 
 Apart she lived, and still she lies alone ; 
 Yon earthly heap awaits the flattering stone. 
 On which invention shall be long employed 
 To show the various worth of Catharine Lloyd. 
 
 THE NODLE PEASANT. 
 
 Next to these ladies, but in naught allied, 
 A noble peasant, Isaac Ashford, died. 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 411 
 
 Noblo bo was, oontomning all things moan, 
 
 Ilia truth unquestioned, and his soul sorone : 
 
 Of no man's presence Isaac felt afraid ; 
 
 At no man's question Isonc looked dismayed : 
 
 Shame know him not, ho dreaded no disgrnco ; 
 
 Truth, simple truth, was written in bis face : 
 
 Yet while the serious thought his soul approved. 
 
 Cheerful ho seemed, and gentleness be loved : 
 
 To bliss domestic ho his heart resigned. 
 
 And, with the firmest, had the fondest mind : 
 
 Were others joyful, he looked smiling on. 
 
 And gave allowauco where he needed none ; 
 
 Good he refused with future ill to buy, 
 
 Nor knew the joy that caused reflection's sigh ; 
 
 A friend to virtue, his unclouded breast 
 
 No envy stung, no jealousy distressed 
 
 (Bane of the poor ! that wounds their weaker mind. 
 
 Who miss one comfort, that their neighbors find) : 
 
 Yet far wa^ he from stoic pride removed ; 
 
 He felt with many, and he warmly loved : 
 
 I marked IiiJ :irti(in wlim his infant died, 
 
 And an I 1 i 111 ijlili. r !..,■ ,, Hence was tried ; 
 
 The still t .11., ■■.illii_-i|i.\vu that furrowed cheek. 
 
 Spoke I'ity. ^.laiinr iIkiii the tongue can speak. 
 
 If pride wore his, 't was not their vulgar pride. 
 Who, in their boso contempt, the great deride ; 
 Nor pride in learning, though my clerk agreed, 
 If fate should call him, Asbford might succeed ; 
 Nor pride in rustic skill, although he knew 
 More skilful none, and skilled like him but few. 
 But if that spirit in his soul had place, 
 It was the jealous pride that shuns disgrace : 
 A pride in honest fame, by virtue gained. 
 In sturdy boys to virtuous labors trained ; 
 Pride in the power that guards his country's coast, 
 And all that Englishmen enjoy and boast ; 
 Pride in a life that Slander's tongue defied ; 
 In fact, a noblo passion, misnamed pride. 
 
 He had no party's rage, no scefr/s whim ; 
 Christian and countryman was all with him. 
 True to his church he came ; no Sunday shower 
 Kept him at home in that important hour ; 
 Nor his firm feet could one persuading sect 
 By the new light to the new way direct ; — 
 ' Mine now are faith and hope,' ho said ; ' adieu ! 
 I fear to lose them in a way so new.' 
 
 In times severe, when many a sturdy swain 
 Felt it his pride, his comfort, to complain, 
 Isaac their want^ would soothe, his own would hide. 
 And feel in that his comfort and his pride. 
 HIS THOccn-nj is tdb alms-house. 
 
 At length he found, when seventy years wore run, 
 His strength departed, and bis labor done ; 
 llis honest fame ho yet retained ; no more j 
 Uis wife was buried, and his children poor ; 
 'T was then, a spark of — say not discontent — 
 Struck on his mind, and thus he gave it rent : 
 
 • Kind aro your laws ('t is not to bo denied), 
 That in yon bouse for ruined age provide. 
 And just, as kind ; when young, we give you all, 
 And then for comforts in our weukne.is call. 
 M'hy then this proud reluctance tu be fed. 
 To join your poor, and cat the parish bread ? 
 But yet I linger, loath with him to live. 
 Who, while he feeds me, is as loath to give ; 
 Ho who by contract all your paupers t«ok. 
 And gauges stomachs with an an.\ious look ; 
 On some old master I could well depend ; 
 See him with joy, and thank him as a friend ; 
 But ill on him who doles the day's supply. 
 And counts our chances who at night may die : 
 Y'et help me. Heaven ! to mourn my lot is vain ; 
 Mino it is not to choose, but to sustain.' 
 
 ira DEATU. — now MISSED AT CBincH. 
 
 Such were his thoughts, and so resigned he grew; 
 Daily he placed the work-bouse in bis view ; 
 But came not there, for sudden was his fate, — 
 He dropped expiring at his cottage gate. 
 
 I feel bis absence in the hours of prayer. 
 And view his seat, and sigh for Isaac there ; 
 I SCO no ninrn llv.~-" n-hii.- l-.-ky, thinly spread. 
 Bound the 1.1 ' 1 i : ' • I'.i' ln.nored head ; 
 No more th 11 1 1 1 ,i „ 1 u playful wight 
 
 Compelled t.. i.i, 1 i . i n . ml. I..' at tlie .^ight ; 
 
 To fold bi.- I;m_. •- .ii; ,1. .In. I.i v.liil,.. 
 
 Till Mister \ ■.: .1 I . :i ..., i . .i -i . ; 
 
 No more tli.ii II. .-, : ... .,,:...:: I. in prayer, 
 
 Nor that pun: laiiii, tint g-ivc il ii/i\L-, urc there ; 
 
 But he is blest, and X lament no more, 
 
 A wise good man, contented to be poor. 
 
 Then died a ramblor ; not the one who sails 
 And trucks for female favors, beads, and nails ; 
 Not one who posts from place to place, of men 
 And manners treating, with a flying pen : 
 Not bo who climbs for prospects Snowden's height, 
 And chides the clouds, that intercept the sight ; 
 No curious shell, rare plont, or brilliant spar. 
 Enticed our traveller from his home su far ; 
 But all the reason by himself assigned 
 For so much rambling was a restless mind ; 
 As on, from place to place, without intent. 
 Without reflection, Kobin Dingley wont. 
 
 Not thus by nature : nover man was found 
 Less prone to wander from his parish hound j 
 Claudian's old man, to whom all scenes were new. 
 Save those where he and whore his apples grew. 
 Resembled Robin, who around would look. 
 And his horizon for the earth's mistook. 
 
 To this poor swain a keen attorney came ; — 
 ' I give thee joy, good fellow, on thy name ! 
 The rich old Dingley 's dead ; — no child has he, 
 Nor wife, nor will ; his all is loft for thee ; 
 To bo his fortune's heir, thy claim is good ; 
 Thou hast the name, and we will prove the blood.' 
 
412 
 
 KURAL POETRY. 
 
 The claim was made ; 't was tried, It would not stand ; 
 They proved the blood, hut were refused the land. 
 
 Assured of wealth, this man of simple heart 
 To every friend had predisposed a part ; 
 His wife had hopes indulged of various kind ; 
 The three Miss Dingleys had their school assigned, 
 Masters were sought for what each Miss required, 
 And books were bought, and harpsichords were hired; 
 So high was hope : — the failure touched his brain. 
 And Robin never was himself again : 
 Yet he no wrath, no angry wish expressed. 
 But tried in vain to labor or to rest ; 
 Then cast his bundle on his back, and went 
 He knew not whither, nor for what intent. 
 
 Years fled ; — of Robin all remembrance past, 
 When home he wandered in his rags at last : 
 A sailoi''s jacket on his limbs was thrown, 
 A sailor's story he had made his own ; 
 Had suffered battles, prisons, tempests, storms. 
 Encountering death in all his ugliest forms ; 
 His cheeks were haggard, hollow was his eye. 
 Where madness lurked, concealed in misery ; 
 Want and the ungentle world had taught a part. 
 And prompted cunning to that simple heart : 
 ' He now bethought him he would roam no more. 
 But live at home and labor as before.' 
 
 Here clothed and fed, no sooner he began 
 To round and redden than away he ran : 
 His wife was dead, their chililroii past his aid, 
 So unmolested fn.iii lii- hnmr !i<' .-I i:i VL-d : 
 Six years elap.^L'd, wli.n, wmmi with WLUit and pain, 
 Came Robin, wnqit in :ill in- i;t-s a;j:;iin : — 
 We chide, we pity ; — placed among our poor. 
 He fed again, and was a man once more. 
 
 As when a gaunt and hungry fox is found. 
 Entrapped alive, in some rub liuntr]'- ^miuul. 
 Fed for the field, although r:,,l, .l.,y - ;, i. ;,-t, 
 Fatten you may, but never tmir ihi Im.i-i ; 
 An house protects him, savni v iiii:tt.- ,<!i-tain, 
 But loose his neck, and otf he goes again : 
 So stole our vagrant from his warm retreat, 
 To rove a prowler, and be deemed a cheat. 
 
 Hard was his fare : for him at length we saw 
 In cart conveyed, and laid supine on straw : 
 His feeble voice new spc.k.' ;i .-inking heart ; 
 
 His groans now tnl.! i 1m> t i.ni- nl' the cart : 
 
 And thus ho rose, Imi iii<.| in i;iiii to stand ; 
 Closed was his eye, and .jlrurhrd his clammy hand; 
 Life ebbed apace, and our best aid uo more 
 Could his weak sense or dying heart restore : 
 But now he fell a victim to the snare 
 That vile attorneys for the weak prepare ; 
 They who, when profit or resentment call. 
 Heed not the groaning victim they enthrall. 
 
 Then died lamented, in the strength of life, 
 A valued mother and a faithful wife ; 
 
 Called not away, when time had loosed each hold 
 On the fond heart, and each desire grew cold ; 
 But when to all that knit us to our kind 
 She felt fast bound, »s charity can bind ; — 
 Not when the ills of age, its pain, its care. 
 The drooping spirit for its fate prepare ; 
 And, each affection failing, leaves the heart 
 Loosed from life's charm, and willing to depart ; 
 But all her ties the strong invader broke. 
 In all their strength, by one tremendous stroke ! 
 Sudden and swift the eager pest came on. 
 And all was terror, till all hope was gone ; 
 Was silent terror, where that hope grew weak. 
 Looked on the sick, and was ashamed to speak. 
 
 Slowly they bore, with solemn step, the dead ; 
 When grief grew loud, and bitter tears were shed : — 
 My part began ; a crowd drew near the place. 
 Awe in each eye, alarm in every face : 
 So sure the ill, and of so fierce a kind. 
 That fear with pity mingled in each mind ; 
 Friends with the husband came their griefs to blend, 
 For (joodman Frankford was to all a friend. 
 
 The lastrborn boy they held above the bier : 
 He knew not grief, but cries expressed his fear ; 
 Each different age and sex revealed its pain. 
 In now a louder, now a lower strain ; 
 While the meek father, listening to their tones, 
 Swslied the full cadence of the grief by groans. 
 
 The elder sister strove her pangs to hide, 
 And soothing words to younger minds applied. 
 ■ De slill, be patient,' oft she strove to say. 
 But laikd as oft, and weeping turned away. 
 
 Curious and sad, upon the fresh-dug hill. 
 The village lads stood melancholy still ; 
 And idle children, wandering to and fro, 
 As nature guided, took the tone of woe. 
 
 THE DEAD MOTHER MISSED. — USE OF SORROW. 
 
 Arrived at home, how then they gazed around. 
 In every place where she no more was found ! 
 The seat at table she was wont to fill; 
 The fireside chair, still set, but vacant still ; 
 The garden walks, a labor all her own ; 
 The lattice bower, with trailing shrubs ( 
 The Sunday pew she filled with all her race ; — 
 Each place of hers was now a sacred place. 
 That, while it called up sorrows in the eyes, 
 Pierced the full heart, and forced them still to i 
 
 sacred Sorrow ! by whom souls are tried. 
 Sent not to punish mortals, but to guide ; 
 If thou art mine (and who shall proudly dare 
 To tell his Maker he has had his share?). 
 Still let me feel for what thy pangs are sent. 
 And he my guide, and not my punishment ! 
 
 Of Leah Cousins next the name appears. 
 With honors crowned, and blest with length of year; 
 Save that she lived to feel, in life's decay. 
 The pleasure die, the honors drop away ; 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 413 
 
 A matron she whom every Tillage wife 
 Viewed as the help and guardian of her life ; 
 Fathers and sons indebted to her aid 
 Kcspoct to her and her profession paid ; 
 Who in the house of plenty largely fed, 
 Yet took her station at the pauper's bed ; 
 Nor from that duty could bo bribed again, 
 While fear or danger urged her to remain. 
 In her experience all her friends relied, — 
 Ilcttven wos her help, and nature was her guide. 
 
 Thus I^ah lived ! long trusted, much caressed, 
 Till a town dame a youthful farmer blest ; 
 A gay, vain bride, who would example give 
 Tu that poor village where she deigned to live ; 
 Some few months past, she sent, in hour of need. 
 For Doctor Glib, who came with wondrous speed ; 
 Two days he waited, all his art applied 
 To save the mother, when her infant died. 
 ' 'T was well I came,' at last he deigned to say ; 
 "Twas wondrous well,' — and proudly rode away. 
 
 The news ran round : ' How vast the doctor's power! 
 Ue saved the lady in the trying hour ; 
 Saved her from death, when she was dead to hope. 
 And her fond husband had resigned her up : — 
 So all, like her, may evil fate defy. 
 If Doctor Glib, with saving hand, be nigh.' 
 
 DOCTOR GLIB BECOMES TOE FASmON. 
 
 Fame (now his friend). Fear, Novelty, and Whim, 
 And Fashion, sent the varying sex to him : 
 From this contention in the village rose. 
 And these the dame espoused, the doctor those ; 
 The wealthier part to him and science went. 
 With luck and Leah the poor remained content. 
 
 The matron sighed ; for she was vexed at heart, 
 With so much profit, so much fame, to part. 
 
 ' So long successful in my art,' she cried, 
 ' And this proud man, so young, and so untried ! ' 
 
 ■Xay, but,' ho said, 'and dare you trust your 
 The joy, the pride, the solace, of your lives, [wives, 
 To one who acts and knows no reason why. 
 But trusts, poor hag ! to luck for an ally? 
 Who, on experience, can her claims advance. 
 And own the powers of Accident and Chance ? 
 A whining dame, who prays in danger's view 
 (A proof she knows not what beside to do) ; 
 What 's her experience ? in the time that 's gone, 
 Blundering she wrought, and still she blunders on : 
 And what is Nature ? One wUb acts in aid 
 or gossips half asleep, and half afraid ; 
 With such allies I scorn my fame to blend, — 
 Skill is my luck, and Courage is my friend: 
 No slave to nature, 't is my chief delight 
 To win my way and act in her despite. 
 Trust, then, my art, that, in itself comploto. 
 Needs no assistance, and fears no defeat.' 
 
 THB MIDWirB'S PLBi. 
 
 Warmed by her well-spieed ale, and aiding pipe, 
 The angry matron grew for contest ripe. 
 
 ' Can you,' she said, ' ungrateful and unjust. 
 Before experience ostentation trust? 
 What is your hazard, foolish daughters, tell? 
 If safe, you 're certain ; if secure, you 're well : 
 That I have luck, must friend and foe confess. 
 And what's good judgment but a lucky guess? 
 He boasts but what he can do : — will you run 
 F'rom me, your friend, who all he boasts have done ? 
 By proud and learned words his powers are known; 
 By healthy boys and hniiil-ioinn (,'iils, my own : 
 Wives! fathers! chilli ' i ! I]' v"U live ; 
 
 lias this pale doctor it ■ ? 
 
 No stunted cripple \i- I ; 
 
 Yourhandsareactivj. I .: m- sound ; 
 
 My lads are all your fielJi mid ll..cks require : 
 Jly lasses all those sturdy lads admire : 
 Can this proud leech, with M his lir.astcd skUl, 
 Amend the soul or IxmIv, i\ir . i ..i;'' 
 Docs he for courts till iiiune. 
 
 Or make the daught. r I ' I i: mr limi;? 
 Or, whom he brings iiiti :i.i v\ 1 1 I i \mu', 
 Prepares he them their part to uudorj^o ? 
 If not, this stranger from your doors repel. 
 And be content to be, and to bo well,' 
 
 SHE IS StrPPLASTED, AND TAKES TO DRiyK. 
 
 She spake : but, ah ! with words too strong and 
 plain ; 
 Her warmth offended, and her truth was vain : 
 The many left her, and the friendly few. 
 If never colder, yet they older grew ; 
 
 I Till, unemployed, she felt her spirits droop, 
 
 I And took, insidious aid ! the inspiring cup ; 
 Grew poor and peevish as her powers decayed, 
 
 I And propped the tottering frame with stronger aid; 
 
 I Then died ! — I saw our careful swains convey 
 From this our changeful world the matron's clay. 
 Who to this world, at least, with equal care. 
 Brought them its changes, good and ill, to share. 
 
 THE ABCSEl) USCLE. 
 
 Now to his grave was Roger Cuff conveyed, 
 And strong resentment's lingering spirit laid ; 
 Shipwrecked in youth, he home returned, and found 
 His brethren three, — and thrice they wished him 
 
 drowned. 
 'Is this n landman's love? be certain, then. 
 Wo part forever ! ' — and they cried. Amen ! 
 
 His words wore truth's : some forty summers fled. 
 His brethren died ; his kin siJpposed him dead : 
 Three nephews these, one sprightly niece, and one 
 Less near in blood ; they called him Surly John. 
 He worked in woods apart from all his kind ; 
 Fierce were his looks, and moody was his mind. 
 
 For homo the sailor now began to sigh : — 
 ' The dogs are dead, and I '11 return and die ; 
 When all I have, my gains in years of care. 
 The younger Cuffs with kinder souls shall share ; 
 
RURAL POETRY. CRABBE. 
 
 Yet hold ! 
 
 rich ; — with ( 
 
 consent they '11 
 
 
 " You're welcome, uncle, as the flowers in May." 
 No ; I '11 disguise me, be in tatters dressed. 
 And best befriend the lads who treat me best.' 
 
 Now all his kindred, neither rich nor poor. 
 Kept the wolf Want some distance from the door. 
 
 In piteous plight ho knocked at George's gate. 
 And begged for aid, as he described his state. 
 But stern was George : — 'Let them who had thee 
 
 Help thee to drag thy weakened fr.ame along : 
 To us a stranger while your limbs would move ; 
 From us depart, and try a stranger's love : — 
 Ha ! dost thou murmur ? ' — for in Roger's throat 
 Was * Rascal ! ' rising, with disdainful note. 
 
 To pious James he then his prayer addressed. 
 ' Good lack,' quoth James, ' thy sorrows pierce my 
 
 breast ; 
 And had I wealth, as have my brethren twain, 
 One board should feed us, and one roof contain : 
 But pk'iid I will thy cause, and I will pray : 
 And so, farewell ! Heaven help thee on thy way ! ' 
 
 ' Scoundrel * ' said Roger (but apart), and told 
 His case to Peter ; Peter too was cold : — 
 ' The rates are high ; we have a-many poor ; 
 But I will think — ' he said, and shut the door. 
 
 Then the gay niece the seeming pauper pressed : 
 ' Turn, Nancy, turn, and view this form distressed ; 
 Akin to thine is this declining frame. 
 And this poor beggar claims an uncle's name.' 
 
 * Avaunt ! begone ! ' the courteous maiden said, 
 ' Thou vile impostor ! Uncle Roger 's dead ; 
 I hate thee, beast ! thy look my spirit shocks ; 
 ! that I saw thee starving in the stocks ! 
 
 ' My gentle niece ! ' he said, and sought the wood. 
 ' I hunger, fellow ! prithee, give me food ! ' 
 
 ' Give ! am I rich ? this hatchet take and try 
 Thy proper strength, nor give those limbs the lie ; 
 Work, feed thyself, to thine own powers appeal. 
 Nor whine out woes thine own right hand can heal; 
 And while that hand is thine, and thine a leg. 
 Scorn of the proud or of the base to beg.' 
 
 HIS REVENGE. 
 
 ■ Come, Surly John, thy wealthy kinsman view,' 
 Old Roger said ; ' thy words are brave and true. 
 Come, live with me; we '11 vex those scoundrel boys; 
 And that prim shrew shall, envying, hoar our joys. 
 Tobacco's glorious fume all day we "U share. 
 With beef and brandy kill all kinds of care ; 
 Wo '11 beer and biscuit on our table heap. 
 And rail at rascals till we fall asleep.' 
 
 Such was their life : but when the woodman 
 died, 
 His grieving kin for Roger's smiles applied ; 
 In vain : he shut with stern rebuke the door. 
 And, dying, built a refuge for the poor ; 
 With this restriction : That no Cuff should share 
 One meal or shelter for one moment there. 
 
 THE SEXTON. 
 
 My record ends : — but, hark ! eVn now I hear 
 The bell of death, and know not whose to fear : 
 Our farmers all, an(i all our hinds, were well ; 
 In no man's cottage danger seemed to dwell : 
 Yet death of man proclaim these heavy chimes. 
 For thrice they sound, with pausing space three 
 ' Go, of my se.tton seek whose days are sped.' [times. 
 ' What ! he himself ! — and is old Dibble dead ? ' 
 His eightieth year he reached, still undecayed. 
 And rectors five to one close vault conveyed : 
 But he is gone ; his care and skill I lose, 
 And gain a mournful subject for my muse : 
 His masters lost he 'd oft in turn deplore. 
 And kindly add, ' Heaven grant I lose no more ! ' 
 Yet while he spake a sly and pleasant glance 
 Appeared at variance with his complaisance : 
 For, as he told their fate and varying worth. 
 He archly looked, — ' I yet may bear thee forth.' 
 
 ' When first ' (he so began) ' my trade I plied. 
 Good master Addle was the parish guide ; 
 His clerk and sexton I beheld with fear. 
 His stride majestic, and his frown severe ; 
 A nobler pillar of the church he stood. 
 Adorned with college gown and parish hood ; 
 Then, as he paced the hallowed aisles about. 
 He filled the seven-fold surplice fairly out : 
 But in his pulpit, wearied down with prayer. 
 He sat, and seemed as in his study's chair ; 
 For while the anthem swelled, and when it ceased. 
 The expecting people viewed their slumbering priest ; 
 Who, dozing, died. 
 
 PARSON PEELE. 
 
 * Our parson Peele was next ; 
 " I will not spare you," was his favorite text : 
 Nor did he spare, but raised them many a pound ; 
 Ev'n mo he mulct for my poor rood of ground ; 
 Yet cared he naught, but, with a gibing speech, 
 *' What should I do," quoth he, " but what I preach? " 
 His piercing jokes (and he 'd a plenteous store) 
 Were daily offered both to rich and poor ; 
 His scorn, his love, in playful words he spoke ; 
 His pity, praise, and promise, were a joke : 
 But though so young, and blest with spirits high. 
 He died as grave as any judge could die : 
 The strong attack subdued his lively powers, — 
 His was the grave, and Doctor Grandspear ours. 
 
 PARSON GRANDSPEAR. 
 
 ' Then were there golden times, the village round; 
 In his abundance, all appeared to abound ; 
 Liberal ajid rich, a plenteous board he spread, 
 Ev'n sly dissenters at his tabic fed ; 
 Who wished, and hoped, and thought a man so kind 
 A way to heaven, though not their own, mightfind; 
 To them, to all, he was polite and free. 
 Kind to the poor, and, ah ! most kind to me. [old; 
 "Ralph," would he say, "Ralph Dibble, thou art 
 That doublet fit, 't will keep thee from the cold ; 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 415 
 
 How docs my sexton 7 Whnt ! tho times arc hard; 
 Drive tliat stout pig and pen liim in thj yard." 
 liut most liis rovcronoo loved a iiiirtliful jest : 
 "Tliy coat is thin ; wliy, nmn, tliou'rt barely drest; 
 It's worn to tlio threnil ! but I luivo nappy beer ; 
 Clap that within, and sou how they will wear." [past: 
 ' Gay days were these : but they were quioldy 
 When first ho came we found ho couldn't last : 
 An whoreson cough (and at the fall of leaf) 
 Upset him quite ; — but what's the gain of grief? 
 
 THE BOOKISH PARSON. 
 
 ' Then came the Author Rector ; his delight 
 Was all in books ; to read them or to write : 
 Women and men he strove alike to shun, 
 And hurried homeward when his tjisks were done ; 
 Courteous enough, but careless what he said, 
 For points of learning he reserved his head ; 
 And when addressing either poor or rich. 
 He knew no better than bis cassock which ; 
 He, like an osier, was of pliant kind, 
 Erect by nature, but to bend inclined ; 
 Not like a creeper falling to the ground, 
 Or meanly catching on the neighbors round ; — 
 Careless was he of surplice, hood, and band. 
 And kindly took them as they came to hand ; 
 Nor, like the doctor, wore a world of hat, 
 As if ho sought for dignity in that : 
 He talked, ho gave, but not with cautious rules, 
 Nor turned from gypsies, vagabonds, or fools ; 
 It was his nature, but they thought it whim, 
 .•\nd so our beaux and beauties turned from him : 
 Of questions much ho wrote, profound and dark, — 
 How spake the serpent, and whore stopped the ark ; 
 From what far land the Queen of Sheba came ; 
 Who Salem's priest, and what his father's name ; 
 He made the Song of Songs its mysteries yield, 
 And Revelations to the world revealed. 
 Ho sleeps i' the aisle ; but not a stone records 
 His name or fame, his actions or his words : — 
 And truth, your reverence, when I look around, 
 And mark the tombs in our sepulchral ground 
 (Though dare I not of one man's hope to doubt), 
 I 'd join the party who rcposo without. 
 
 • Next came a youth from Cambridge, and, in truth. 
 He was a sober and a comely youth. 
 
 He blushed in meekness as a modest man, 
 And gained attention ere his task began : 
 When preaching, seldom ventured on reproof. 
 But touched his neighbors tenderly enough. 
 
 * Him, in his youth, a clamorous sect assailed, 
 Advised, and censured, flattered — and prevailed. 
 Then did he much his sober hearers vex. 
 Confound the simple, and the sad perplex ; * 
 
 To a new style his reverence rashly took ; 
 
 Loud grew his voice, to threatening swelled his look ; 
 
 Above, below, on cither side he gazed, 
 
 Amazing all, and most himself amazed : 
 
 No more he read his preachments pure and plain, 
 
 But launched outright, and rose and sank again : 
 
 At times he smiled in scorn, at times he wept, 
 And such sad ooil with words of vengeance kept. 
 That our best sleepers started as they slept. 
 
 ' " Conviction comes like lightning," he would cry ; 
 " In vain you seek it, and in vain you fly ; 
 'Tis like the rushing of the mighty wind, — 
 Unseen its progress, but its power you find ; 
 It strikes the child ere yet its reason wakes ; 
 His reason fled, the ancient sire it shakes ; 
 Tho proud learned man, and him who loves to know 
 How and from whence these gusts of grace will blow. 
 It shuns — but sinners in their way impedes, 
 And sots and harlots visits in their deeds : 
 Of faith and penance it supplies the place ; 
 Assures tho vilest that they live by grace. 
 And, without running, makes them win tho race." 
 
 * Such was the doctrine our young prophet taught ; 
 And here conviction, there confusion wrought : 
 When his thin cheek assumed a deadly hue, 
 
 And all tho rose to one small spot withdrew : 
 
 They called it hectic ; 't was a fiery flush. 
 
 More fixed and deeper than tho maiden blush ; 
 
 His paler lips tho pearly teeth disclosed. 
 
 And laboring lungs the lengthening speech opposed. 
 
 No more his span-girth shanks and quivering thighs 
 
 Upheld a body of the smaller size ; 
 
 But down he sank upon his dyinj^ bed. 
 
 And gloomy cr t -hnt ■ lill. 1 lii- ivuil rin[; head. 
 
 * " Spiti- <if I , .!■ ■ il I . _ I I I " iio cried, 
 "IlcarofiN i: . ^ : il.' ; 
 
 Poor as I !>TI1, ,|. -.'nnl..!, :,l,„,l, Mi„,|, 
 
 The good I've wruught slill i:inklc.-< in my mind ; 
 My alms-deeds all, and every deed I 've done. 
 My moral rags defile me every one ; 
 It should not be ; what say'st thou ? tell me, Ralph," 
 Quoth I, '* Your reverence, I believe you 're safe ; 
 Your faith 's your prop, nor have you passed such 
 In life's good works as swell them to a crime." [time 
 " If I of pardon for my sins were sure, 
 About my goodness I would rest secure.** 
 
 'Such was his end ; and mine approaches fast ; 
 I 've seen my best of preao^prs, and my laft.' 
 
 He bowed, and archly smiled nt what he said, 
 Civil, but sly, — ' And is old Dibble dead 7 ' 
 
 COSCLCSIOS OF TUB RKCISTER. 
 
 Yes ! he is gone : and wo are going all ; 
 Like flowers we wither, and like leaves wo fall : 
 Hero with an infant joyful sponsors come. 
 Then bear the new-made Christian to its home : 
 A few short years, and we behold him stand 
 To ask a blessing, with his bride in hand : 
 A few, still seeming shorter, and we hear 
 His widow weeping at her husband's bier : — 
 Thus, as the months succeed, shall infants take 
 Their names, while parents them and us forsake ; 
 Thus brides again and bridegrooms blithe shall 
 
 kneel. 
 By love or law compelled their vows to seal, 
 Ero I again, or one like mo, explore 
 These simple annals of tho Village Poor. 
 

 fvural mts i 
 
 or J)urml)rr\ 
 
 FIRST OF DECEMBER. 
 
 For Nature soon in Spring's best charms 
 
 
 Shall rise, revived from Winter's grave. 
 
 Though now no more the musing ear 
 
 Again expand the bursting bud. 
 
 Delights to listen to the breeze 
 
 And bid the flow'ret bloom. 
 
 That lingers o'er the green-wood shade, 
 
 
 I love thee, Winter, well. 
 
 
 
 Sweet are the harmonies of Spring, 
 
 READ'S "STRANGER ON THE DOOR-SILL;" 
 
 Sweet is the Summer's evening gale. 
 
 
 Pleasant th' autumnal winds that shake 
 
 OR, THE "ALIENATED HOMESTEAD." 
 
 The many-colored grove ; 
 
 Between broad fields of wheat and corn 
 
 
 Is the lowly home where I was born ; 
 
 And pleasant to the sober soul 
 
 The peach-tree leans against the wall. 
 
 The silence of the wintry scene, 
 
 And the woodbine wanders over all ; 
 
 When Nature shrouds her in her trance 
 
 There is the shaded doorway still — 
 
 In deep tranquillity. 
 
 But a stranger's foot has crossed the sill. 
 
 Not undelightful now to roam. 
 
 There is the barn, — and, as of yore. 
 
 The wild heath sparkling on the sight ; 
 
 I can smell the hay from the open door. 
 
 Not undelightful now to pace 
 
 And see the busy swallows throng, 
 
 The forest's ample round ; 
 
 
 
 But the stranger comes — ! painful proof— 
 
 And see the spangled branches shine. 
 
 His sheaves are piled to the heated roof. 
 
 And mark the moss of many a hue 
 
 
 That varies the old tree's brown bark. 
 
 There is the orchard, — the very trees. 
 
 Or o'er the gray stone spreads. 
 
 Where my childhood knew long hours of ease. 
 And watched the shadowy moments run. 
 
 The clustered berries claim the eye 
 O'er the bright holly's gay green leaves ; 
 The ivy round the leafless oak 
 
 Till my life imbibed more shade than sun ; 
 The swing from the bough still sweeps the air — 
 But the stranger's children are swinging there. 
 
 Clasps its full foliage close. 
 
 It hubbies, the shady spring below, 
 
 
 With its bulrush brook, where the hazels grow ; 
 
 So Virtue, difficult of strength, 
 
 'T was there I found the calamus ■ root. 
 
 Clings to Eeligionis firmer aid. 
 And, by Religion's aid upheld, 
 
 And watched the minnows poise and shoot. 
 
 And heard the robin lave his wing — 
 
 Endures calamity. 
 
 But the stranger's bucket is at the spring. 
 
 Nor void of beauties now the Spring, 
 
 ye who daily cross the sill. 
 
 Whose waters, hid from Summer's sun, 
 
 Step lightly, for I love it still ! 
 
 Have soothed the thirsty pilgrim's eai 
 With more than melody. 
 
 And when you crowd the old barn-eaves. 
 Then think what countless harvest-sheaves 
 Have passed within that scented door. 
 
 The green moss shines with icy glare ; 
 
 To gladden eyes that are no more. 
 
 The long grass bends in spear-like form ; 
 
 Deal kindly with these orchard trees, 
 
 And lovely is the silvery scene 
 
 And when your children crowd your knees, 
 
 When faint the sunbeams smile. 
 
 Their sweetest fruit they shall impart. 
 
 
 
 Reflection too may love the hour 
 When Nature, hid in Winter's grave. 
 No more expands the bursting bud, 
 
 To youthful sport still leave the swing. 
 And in sweet reverence hold the spring. 
 
 Or bids the flow'ret bloom. 
 
 1 The sweet-flag, or Sag-root. 
 
6r;iiiuuvs "^iiqar aauf 
 
 jposed. Invocation nnil ndilrcsa. What soils tlie 
 ■W9 best in. The gray light earth. VraliH! of 
 , and of Christopher Columhua. The blacli soil 
 ith c}ny nnd trrivcl. I*raise of Darbadoes, Nevis, 
 iiiiis.-iTnt. ('..iiinnsn may improve other soils. 
 -■• of a level plantation. Of 
 
 Il;ind one. Advantages of 
 
 nrig. Of compost. Of leaving 
 
 best. Rniii often rails in the Wcit Iinlius alnmst wiltiuul 
 any previous signs. The signs of rainy weather. Of fogs 
 round the high mountains. Planting described. Begin 
 to plant mountaitt'tand in July ; the low ground in Novem- 
 ber, and the subsequent months, till May. The advan- 
 tage of changing tops in planting. Whether the moon has 
 any influence over the cane-plant. What quantity of 
 -nnuntain and of low cane-land may be annually planted. 
 
 The 
 
 July. Of hedges. Of stone enclosures. Myrtle hedges 
 recommended. Whether trees breed the blast. The 
 character of a good planter. Of weeding. Of moulding. 
 Of stripping. 
 
 Wn. 
 
 TOE SrBJECT STATKD. — SCOAB-CiXE CCLTIRE. 
 
 soil tho cane affects ; what care demands ; 
 
 Beneath what signs to plant ; what ills await ; 
 
 lliiw the hot nectar best to crystallize, 
 
 .•Vnil .-ifric's sable progeny to treat : 
 
 A Muse, that long hath wandered in the groves 
 
 Of myrtle-indolence, attempts to sing. 
 
 Spirit of inspiration, that didst lead 
 Th' Ascrcnn poet to tho sacred mount, 
 And taught'st him all the precepts of the swain. 
 Descend from heaven, and guide my trembling steps 
 T<i Fame's eternal dome, where iMaro reigns ; 
 Wli.rt' p:i-ti.r:il I'yer, where Pomona's bard, 
 Ah'l Sjiiait an 1 Sc.inerville, in varying strains, 
 Tlii'ir svlvnn l,,re convey : may I join 
 This choral band, and from their precepts learn 
 To deck my theme, which, though to song unknown. 
 Is most momentous to my country's weal ! 
 
 EWIRD I3LA.\DS. 
 
 So shall my nombcrs win the public car ; 
 And not displease Aurelius ; him, to whom 
 Imperial George, tho monarch of the main. 
 
 1 The ' Leeward Isles ' are the northern portion of tlic 
 Carihbee Islands, that is, those north of latitude lft= ; the 
 1 of 1&3 are called the ' Windward 
 
 Ilath given to wield tho sceptre of those isles. 
 Where first tho JUuso beheld tho spiry oano, 
 Supreme of plants, rich subject of my song. 
 
 BEST SOIL FOR THE CAXB. — CLEARINO. 
 
 Where'er the clouds relent in frequent rains, 
 And the sun fiercely dnrt« his tropic beam. 
 The cane will joint, ungenial though the soil. 
 But wnuldst thou see huge casks, in order due, 
 Uiilled numerous on the bay, nil fully fraught 
 \Vith strong-grained Musco\-ado, silvery -gray, 
 I .V r.f tho planter ; and if happy Fato 
 i''Tinit n choice ; avoid the rocky slope, 
 I'he elay-cold bottom, and tho sandy beach. 
 But let thy biting a.\e, with ceaseless stroke, 
 The wild red cedar, the tough locust, fell ; 
 Xor let his nectar, nor his silken pods, 
 The sweet-smelled cassia or vast ceiba save. 
 
 GCAVA, OrAIAC, SHADDOP, ACAJOf, SABBACA. 
 
 Yet spare the guava, yet the guaiac spare ; 
 A wholesome food tho ripened guava yields. 
 Boast of the housewife ; while the guaiac grow 
 A sovereign antidote, in wood, bark, gum, 
 To cause the lame his useless crutch forego, 
 And dry the sources of corrupted love. 
 Nor let thy bright impatient flames destroy 
 The golden shaddoc, the forbidden fruit. 
 The white acajou, and rich sabbaca : 
 
 Carihbee Islands 
 
 For, where these trees their leafy banners raise 
 Aloft in air, a gray deep earth abounds. 
 Fat, light ; yet, when it feels tho wounding hoe. 
 Rising in clods, which ripening suns and rain 
 Resolve to crumbles, yet not pulverize : 
 In this the soul of vegetation wakes. 
 Pleased at tho planter's call, to burst on day. 
 
 Thrico happy he, to whom such fields are given ! 
 For him tho cane with little labor grows ; 
 Spite of tho dog-star, shoots long yellow joints ; 
 Concocts rich juice, though deluges descend. 
 What if an after-offspring it reject? 
 This land, for many a crop, will feed his mills ; 
 Disdain supplies, nor ask from compost aid. 
 
 ST. KITTS. — rrs SOIL, SCE.<iERT, PEOPLE, FEBTILrrr. 
 
 Such, green St. Christopher, thy happy soil ! 
 Not Grecian Tempe, where Arcadian Pan, 
 Knit with the Graces, tuned his sylvan pipe, 
 While mute Attention hushed each charmed rill ; 
 Not purple Knna, whoso irriguous lap, [smcU, 
 
 Strewed with each fruit of tasto, each flower of 
 
418 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — GRAINGER. 
 
 Sicilian Proserpine, delighted, sought ; [sound 
 
 Can Tie, blest isle, with thee. — Though no soft 
 
 Of pastoral stop thine echoes e'er awaked ; 
 
 Nor raptured poet, lost in holy trance, 
 
 Thy streams arrested with enchanting song : 
 
 Yet virgins, far more beautiful than she 
 
 Whom Pluto ravished, and more chaste, are thine ; 
 
 Yet probity, from principle, not fear, 
 
 Actuates thy sons, bold, hospitable, free : 
 
 Yet a fertility, unknown of old. 
 
 To other climes denied, adorns thy hills ; 
 
 Thy vales, thy dells, adorns. — might my strain 
 
 As far transcend the immortal songs of Greece, 
 
 As thou the partial subject of their praise ! 
 
 Thy fame should float familiar through the world ; 
 
 Each plant should own thy cane her lawful lord ; 
 
 Nor should old Time — song stops the flight of Time — 
 
 Obscure thy lustre with his shadowy wing. 
 
 Scarce less impregnated, with every power 
 Of vegetation, is the red brick-mould, 
 That lies on marly beds. — The renter this 
 Can scarce exhaust ; how happy for the heir ! 
 
 Such the glad soil from whence Jamaica's sons 
 Derive their opulence : thrice fertile land, 
 ' The pride, the glory of the sea-girt isles, 
 Which, like to rich and various gems, inlay 
 The unadorned bosom of the deep,' 
 Which first Columbus' daring keel explored. 
 
 Daughters of heaven, with reverential awe, 
 Pause at that godlike name ; for not your flights 
 Of happiest fancy can out-soar his fame. 
 
 Columbus, boast of science, boast of man ! 
 Yet, by the great, the learned, and the wise, 
 Long held a visionary ; who, like thee, [court, 
 Could brook their scorn ; wait seven long years at 
 A selfish, sullen, dilatory court ; 
 Yet never from thy purposed plan decline ? 
 No god, no hero of poetic times, 
 In Truth's fair annals, may compare with thee ! 
 Each passion, weakness of mankind, thou knew'st, 
 Thine own concealing ; firmest base of power : 
 Rich in expedients ; what most adverse seemed, 
 And least expected, most advanced thine aim. 
 What storms, what monsters, what new forms of 
 In a vast ocean, never cut by keel, [death, 
 
 And where the magnet first its aid declined, 
 Alone, unterrified, didst thou not view ? 
 
 THE REJECTED ADVICE OF COLUMBDS. — mS FATE AND FAME. 
 
 Wise legislator, had the Iberian king 
 Thy plan adopted, murder had not drenched 
 In blood vast kingdoms ; nor had hell-born Zoiil, 
 And hell-born Avarice, his arms disgraced. 
 Yet, for a world discovered and subdued. [out. 
 
 What meed hadst thou? With toil, disease, worn 
 Thine age was spent soliciting the prince. 
 
 To whom thou gav'st the sceptre of that world. 
 Yet, blessed sjiirit, where enthroned thou sit'st, 
 I'hi.l 'iiiM till- IV lends of man, repine not thou * 
 1'- ;ii t.i ihc \ nil . thy glory shall remain 
 ^\lll^ uiii-ril ('< anme^ce either ocean ploughs ; 
 Wiiilu iu lu;ca pule the magnet coyly shuns ; 
 While weeps the guaiac, and while joints the cane 
 
 Shall the Muse celebrate the dark deep mould. 
 With clay or gravel mixed? — This soil the cane. 
 With partial fondness, loves ; and oft surveys 
 Its progeny with wonder. — Sueh rich veins 
 Are plenteous scattered o'er the Sugar-isles : 
 But chief that land, to which the bearded fig. 
 Prince nf tlh n.n-i, ■■■■.,\.- Tlarbadoes name ; 
 Chief X(\; , r ! , ,■ Imt baths famed : 
 And bri.( /\ ; i i ' ■- li^se wondrous springs 
 
 Change, lik< \l-hi ;. - h. ;iil, whate'er they touch. 
 To stony hardness ; boast this fertile glebe. 
 
 Though such the soils the Antillean cane 
 Supremely loves, yet other soils abound, 
 Which Art may tutor to obtain its smile. 
 Say, shall the experienced Muse that Art recite? 
 How sand will fertilize stifiF barren clay? 
 How clay unites the light, the porous mould, 
 Sport of each breeze ? And how the torpid nymph 
 Of the rank pool, so noisome to the smell. 
 May be solicited, by wily ways, 
 To draw her humid train, and, prattling, run 
 Down the reviving slopes ? Or shall she say 
 What glebes ungrateful to each other art. 
 Their genial treasures ope to fire alone? 
 Record the difi"erent composts ; which the cold 
 To plastic gladness warm ? The torrid, which 
 By soothing coolness win ? The sharp saline. 
 Which best subdue ? Which mollify the sour ? 
 
 To thee, if Fate low level land assign. 
 Slightly cohering, and of sable hue. 
 Far from the hill ; be parsimony thine. 
 For though this year when constant showers descend ; 
 The speeding gale, thy sturdy numerous stock, 
 Scarcely suffice to grind thy mighty canes : 
 Yet thou, with rueful eye, for many a year, 
 Shall view thy plants burnt by the torch of day ; 
 Hear their parched wan blades rustle in the air ; 
 While their black sugars, doughy to the feel, 
 Will not ev'n pay the labor of thy swains. 
 
 DISADVANTAGES OF MOPNTAIN LA 
 
 Or, if the mountain be thy happier lot. 
 Let prudent foresight still thy coffers guard. 
 For though the clouds relent in nightly rain, 
 Though thy rank canes wave lofty in the gale 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 419 
 
 Yet wilt the arrow, ornamont of woo 
 
 (Such monarohs orttimcs givo),thoir jointing stint ; 
 
 Yet will winds lodge thom, ravening rats destroy, 
 
 Or troops of monltoys thy ricli harvest steal. 
 
 The earth must also wheel around the sun, 
 
 And half perform that circuit ; ere the bill 
 
 Mow down thy sugars : and though all thy mills. 
 
 Crackling, o'orflow with a redundant juice. 
 
 Poor tastes the liquor ; cootion long demands, 
 
 And highest temper, ore it saeoharizo ; 
 
 A meagre produce. Such is Virtue's meed, 
 
 Alas, too oft in these degenerate days. 
 
 Thy cattle likewise, aji they drag the wain, [shouts. 
 
 Charged from the beach ; in spite of whips and 
 
 Will stop, will pant, will sink beneath the load ; 
 
 A better fate deserving. 
 
 Besides, thy land itself is insecure : 
 For oft the glebe, and all its waving load, 
 Will journey, forced off by the mining rain ; 
 .\nd, with its faithless burthen, disarrange 
 Thy neighbor's vale. So Markloy-hill of old, 
 As sung thy bard, Pomona (in these isles 
 Yet unadorned) ; with all its spreading trees, 
 Full fraught with apples, changed its lofty site. 
 
 But, as in life, the golden mean is best, 
 .1 happiest ho whose green plantation lies 
 or from the hill too far, nor from the shore. 
 
 1MP0RTA.SCE OF 
 
 Planter, if thou with wonder wouldst survey 
 Redundant harvests load thy willing soil, 
 Lot sun and rain mature thy deep-hoed land. 
 And old fat dung cooperate with these, 
 lie this great truth still present to thy mind ; 
 The half well-cultured far exceeds the whole, 
 Which lust of gain, unconscious of its end, 
 Ungrateful vexes with unceasing toil. 
 
 Cn.TIViTIOS COMPiBKD TO DISCIPLISE. 
 
 As, not indulged, the richest lands grow poor ; 
 .\nd Liamuiga may, in future times. 
 If too much urged, her barrenness bewail : 
 So cultivation, on the shallowest soil, 
 O'orsprcad with rocky cliffs, will bid the oane, 
 With spiry pomp, all-bountifuUy rise. 
 Thus Britain's flag, should discipline relent, 
 Spite of the native courage of her sons, 
 Would to the lily strike : ah, very far. 
 Far bo that woful day : the lily then 
 Win rule wide ocean with resistless sway ; 
 And to old Gallia's haughty shore transport 
 The lessening crops of these delicious isles. 
 
 Never, ah, novor, bo ashamed to tread 
 Thy dung-heaps, where the refuse of thy mills. 
 With all the ashes, all thy coppers yield, [form. 
 With weeds, mould, dung, and stale, a compost 
 Of force to fertilize the poorest soil. 
 
 now TO MANURB RKHOTB FIRLD3. 
 
 But, planter, if thy lands lie far remote. 
 And of access are difficult, on these 
 licave the cane's sapless foliage ; and with pens 
 Wattled (like those the Jluso hath ofttimcs seen 
 When frolic fancy led her youthful steps, 
 In green Dorchestria's plains), the whole enclose : 
 There well thy stock with provender supply ; 
 Tho well-fed stock will soon that food repay. 
 
 EFFECTa OF TAM<ULTDBB. 
 
 Some of the skilful teach, and some deny, 
 That yams improve tho soil. In meagre lands, 
 Tis known tho yam will ne'er to bigness swell ; 
 And from each mould tho vegetable tribes. 
 However frugal, nutriment derive : [leaves. 
 
 Yet may their sheltering vinos, their dropping 
 Their roots dividing the tenacious glebe, 
 More than refund the sustenance they draw. 
 
 Whether the fattening vif in '-.n-h liolo 
 
 'Tis best to throw, cr .m ili^' ■'ui; -lirru.l, 
 
 Is undetermined : triiil- rnu-i d. .id. . 
 
 Unless kind rains and l.isicun;:; dLu; il^.-L-i-nd, 
 
 To melt the compost's fertilizing salts, 
 
 A stinted plant, deceitful of thy hopes, [lies : 
 
 AVill from those bods slow spring where hut dung 
 
 But, if 'tis scattered generously o'er all. 
 
 The oane will better bear the solar blaze ; 
 
 Less rain demand ; and, by repeated crops. 
 
 Thy land improved its gratitude will show. 
 
 Enough of composts. Muse, of soils enough 
 When best to dig, and when inhume the cane, 
 A task how arduous ! next demands thy song. 
 
 It not imports beneath what sign thy hoes 
 The deep trough sink, and ridge alternate raisi 
 If this from washes guard thy gemmy tops. 
 And that arrest the moisture these require. 
 
 Yet, should the site of thine estate permit. 
 Let the trade-wind thy ridges ventilate ; 
 So shall a greener, loftier cane arise, 
 And richest nectar in thy coppers foam. 
 
 Of composts shall tho Muse descend to sing. 
 Nor soil her heavenly plumes? The sacred Muse 
 Naught sordid deems, but what is base ; naught fair 
 Unless true Virtue stampt it with her seal. 
 Then, Planter, wouldst thou double thine estate, 
 
 As art transforms the savago face of things, 
 And order captivates tho harmonious mind. 
 Let not thy Blacks irregularly hoe : 
 But, aided by the line, consult tho site 
 Of thy demesnes, and beautify the whole. 
 So when a monarch rushes to the war. 
 To drive invasion from his frighted realm. 
 Some delegated chief the frontier views. 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 And to each squadron and brigade assigns 
 Their ordered station : soon the tented field, 
 Brigade and squadron, whiten on the sight. 
 And fill spectators with an awful joy. 
 
 Planter, improvement is the child of time ; 
 What your sires knew not, ye their offspring know ; 
 But hath your art received Perfection's stamp ? 
 Thou canst not say. — Unprejudiced, then learn 
 Of ancient modes to doubt, and new to try : 
 And if Philosophy, with Wisdom, deign 
 Thee to enlighten with their useful lore. 
 Fair Fame and riches will reward thy toil, [spire. 
 
 Then say, ye swains, whom wealth and fame in- 
 Might not the plough, that rolls on rapid wheels, 
 Save no small labor to the hoe-armed gang? 
 Might not the culture taught the British h'inds. 
 By Ceres' son, unfailing crops secure. 
 Though neither dung nor fallowing lent their aid ? 
 
 The cultured land recalls the devious muse ; 
 Propitious to the planter be the call : 
 For much, my friend, it thee imports to know 
 The meetest season to commit thy tops. 
 With best advantage, to the well-dug mould. 
 The task how difficult, to cull the best 
 From thwarting sentiments ; and best adorn 
 What Wisdom chooses, in poetic garb ! 
 Yet, Inspiration, come ; the tlieme unsung. 
 Whence never poet cropped one bloomy wreath ; 
 Its vast importance to my native land. 
 Whose sweet idea rushes on my mind, 
 And makes me 'mid this paradise repine ; 
 Urge me to pluck, from Fancy's soaring wing, 
 A plume to deck E-xperienoe' hoary brow. 
 
 Attend! — The son of Timr aiMl Tmih .k'dares ; 
 Unless the low-hung clouds iln'iipid kiiruss down, 
 No bunching plants of vivid green will spring, 
 In goodly ranks, to fill the planter's eye. 
 Let then Sagacity, with curious ken, 
 Remark the various siu'n? of future rain. 
 The signs of rain thr .ALintnin l.urd hath sung 
 In loftiest nuTulMi,- ; hiinilly i>i Hiy swains, 
 Once fertile Italy : Imt .itlHi luaiks 
 Portend th' approaching shower, in these hot climes. 
 
 Short sudden rain- n..!,) r., ,,.,-^ i,r:!-l li--l, 
 Driven by sonir i; .,..,: ,, ,, ;■; ..i. 
 
 With frequent in r, , i li I . [■ . ; .n-tall, 
 
 While yet the Sun n, ri-.i,,,;, i,,-,,,. ,] .,_ 
 
 .\nd draw their humid train u'ur half the isle. 
 Unhappy he who journeys then from home. 
 No shade to screen him. His untimely fate 
 His wife, his babes, his friends, will soon deplore ; 
 Unless hot wines, dry clothes, and friction's aid, 
 His fleeting spirits stay. Yet not oven these. 
 
 Nor all Apollo's arts, will always bribe 
 The insidious tyrant death, thrice tyrant here : 
 Else good Amyntor, him the Graces loved. 
 Wisdom caressed, ^nd Themis called her own. 
 Had lived by all admired, had now perused 
 ' These lines, with all the malice of a friend.' 
 
 LIZARDS, CRABS, DUCKS, AND DOVES. 
 
 Yet future rains the careful may foretell : 
 Mosquitoes, sand-flies, seek the sheltered roof. 
 And with fell rage the stranger-guest assail. 
 Nor spare the sportive child ; from their retreats 
 Cockro.xches crawl displeasingly abroad : 
 These, without pity, let thy slaves destroy ; 
 Like Harpies, they defile whate'er they touch. 
 While those the smother of combustion quells. 
 The speckled lizard to its hole retreats, 
 And black crabs travel from the mountain down ; 
 Thy ducks their feathers prune ; thy doves return. 
 In faithful flocks, and on the neighboring roof 
 Perch frequjent ; where, with pleased attention, they 
 Behold the deepening congregated clouds. 
 With sadness, blot the azure vault of heaven. 
 
 THE WEST INDIA SHOWER } TORRENTS } ENLIVENING EFFECTS. 
 
 Now, while the shower depends, and rattle loud 
 Your doors and windows, haste, ye housewives. 
 
 Your spouts and pails ; ye negroes, seek the shade, 
 
 Save those who open with the ready hoe 
 
 The enriching water-course : for, see, the drops. 
 
 Which fell with slight aspersion, now descend 
 
 In streams continuous on the laughing land. 
 
 The coyest Naiads quit their rocky caves. 
 
 And with delight run brawling to the main ; 
 
 While those who love still visible to glad 
 
 The thirsty plains from never-ceasing urns 
 
 Assume more awful majesty, and pour. 
 
 With force resistless, down the channelled rocks. 
 
 The rocks, or split 1.1 lull I i, . I n in llnir base. 
 
 With trees, are whiil. ■■ the sea : 
 
 Fluctuates the forest ; i ,. Jiiains roar ; 
 
 The main itself recnil. i.,, mai:! ., l-ague. 
 While its green face is changed to sordid brown. 
 A grateful freshness every sense pervades ; 
 While bents the heart with unaccustomed joy : 
 n.,-.|..rr. f„,a.;.m-Mrnioryn..,v.v,_.alls; 
 Aim! i ,ilr ., |.nn,. - li, |- »in.^,- 1"|- l.ttirst flights. 
 
 I'"iiii.l- thr !■] il; Ij.l, and wan Inn plays the lamb. 
 '1 h'' d I'iti- [>lant- ii'\ i\.- : ten thousand blooms, 
 
 l;ui-i into l„in,^- ; while the canes put on 
 tilad ^'ature's liveliest robe, the vivid green. 
 
 i FOfiS i 
 
 But chief let fixed Attention cast his eye 
 On the capt mountain, whose high rocky verge 
 The wild fig canopies (vast woodland king, 
 
r 
 
 WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 421 
 
 Bcnciith thy branching shade a bannered boat 
 May lie in ambush !) and wboso shaggy sides 
 Trees shade, of endless green, enurmous site. 
 Wondrous in shape, to botany unknown, 
 01d.as the Deluge. — There, in secret haunts. 
 The watery spirits ope their liquid court ; 
 There, with the wood nymphs, linked in festal band 
 (Soft airs and Pha-bus wing them to their arras). 
 Hold amorous doUianoe. Ah, may none profane, 
 With fire or steel, their mystic privacy : 
 For there their fluent ofispring Brst see day. 
 Coy infants sporting ; silver-footed dew 
 To batho by nigbt thy sprouts in gonial balm ; 
 The grccn-stoled Nuiud of the tinkling rill, 
 Whose brow the feru-treo shades ; the power of rain 
 To glad the thirsty soil, on which, arranged, 
 The gemmy summits of the Cane await 
 Tiiy negro train (in linen lightly wrupt). 
 Who, now that painted Iris girds the sky 
 (Aerial arch, which fancy loves to stride !), 
 Disperse, all-jocund, o'er the long-hoed laud. 
 
 CiSK-PLASTISO DESCRIBED J COMPiRBD TO THE roBOISG OP 
 ACUILLBS^S SHIKLD j Vl'LCAX. 
 
 The bundles some untie ; the withered leaves 
 Others strip artful off, and careful lay, 
 Twieo one junk, distant in the amplest bed : 
 O'er these, with hasty hoc, some lightly spread 
 The mounded interval ; and smooth the trench : 
 Well-pleased, the master swain reviews their toil ; 
 And rolls in fancy many a full-fraught cask. 
 So, when the shield was forged for Poleus' son, 
 Tlie swarthy Cyclops shared the important task : 
 With bellows some revived the seeds of fire ; 
 .Some gold, and brass, and steel, together fused 
 In the vast furnace ; while a chosen few. 
 In etiual measures lifting their bare arms. 
 Inform the mass ; and, hissing in the wave, 
 Temper the glowing orb : their sire beholds. 
 Amazed, the wonders of his fusile art. 
 
 WHAT LASD IS TO BE PLASTKD IS JULY J THE PINE-APPLB ; 
 
 While Procyon reigns yet fervid in the sky ; 
 ! While yet the fiery sun in Leo rides ; 
 
 And the sun's child, the mailed anana, yields 
 Ills regal apple to the ravished taste ; 
 And thou, green avocato, charm of sense. 
 Thy ripened marrow liberally bcstow'st ; 
 Begin the distant mountain-land to plant : 
 So shall thy canes defy November's cold, 
 Ungenial to the upland young ; so best, 
 Unstinted by the arrow's deadening power. 
 Long yellow joints shall flow with generous juice. 
 
 WHAT LAND TO BR PLANTED PBOM NOVEMBER TO MAI 
 LEMONS, ORANGES, LIMES, PLANTAINS. 
 
 But, till the lemon, orange, and the lime. 
 Amid their verdant umbrage, countless glow 
 With fragrant fruit of vegetable gold ; 
 Till yellow plantiins bend the unstained bough 
 With crooked clusters, prodigally full ; 
 
 Till Capricorn command the cloudy sky ; 
 And moist Aquarius molt in daily showers, 
 Friend to the Cane isles ; trust not thim thy tops. 
 Thy future riches, to the low-lund plain : 
 And if kind Heaven, in pity to thy prayers. 
 Shed gonial influence, as the eorth revolves 
 Her annual circuit, thy rich ripened canes 
 Shall load thy wagons, mules, and Negro train. 
 
 JOIST IN A MOIST MONTH i JOINTINO TIME. 
 
 But chief thee, planter, it imports to mark 
 (Whether thou breathe the mountain's humid air. 
 Or pant with heat continual on the plain) 
 What months relent, and which from rain are free. 
 
 In different islands of the ocean-stream, 
 Even in the different parts of the same isle. 
 The seasons vary ; yet attention soon 
 Will give thee each variety to know. 
 This once observed, at such a time inhume 
 Thy plants, IIkiI, nh.ii tlirv juint (important age. 
 Like youth jn-i -i. i i-in^ im ■ Hir). the clouds 
 May constaiiil^ l-l. u th.ni : -., shall they 
 Avoid those ill> nhi. I. ■I-- iliiir manhood kill. 
 
 Six times the changeful moon must blunt her 
 horns. 
 And fill with borrowed light her silvery urn. 
 Ere thy tops, trusted to the mountain-land. 
 Commence their jointing : but four moons suffice 
 To bring to puberty the low-land cane. 
 
 ALTEBSATIOS OP SEED-TOPS FROM BILL TO PLAIS, ASD VICE 
 VERSA.— THE DIVINE LOVE. 
 
 In plants, in beasts, in man's imperial race. 
 An alien mixture meliorates the breed ; 
 Hence canes, that sickened dwarfish on the plain. 
 Will shoot with giant-vigor on the hill. 
 Thus all depends on all ; so God ordains. 
 Then let not man, for little selfish ends 
 1 (Britain, remember this important truth). 
 
 Presume the principle to counteract 
 j Of universal love ; for God is love, 
 I And wide creation shares alike Uis care. 
 
 'T is said by some, and not unlettered they. 
 That chief the planter, if ho wealth desire. 
 Should note the phases of the fickle moon. 
 On thee, sweet empress of the night, depend 
 The tides ; stern Neptune pays his court to thee ; 
 The winds, obedient, at thy bidding shift. 
 And tempests rise or fall ; even lordly man 
 Thine energy controls. Not so the cane ; 
 The cane its independency may boast. 
 Though some less noble plants thine influence own. 
 
 now MUCH LAND TO BE PLANTED ', 
 
 Of mountain-lands economy permits 
 A third in canes of mighty growth to rise : 
 But, in the low-land plain, the half will yield 
 Though not so lofty, yet a richer cane. 
 For many a crop ; if seasons glad the soil. 
 
422 
 
 RURAL POETRY. GRAINGER. 
 
 While rolls the sun from Aries to the Bull, 
 And till the Virgin his hot beams inflame, 
 The cane with richest, most redundant juice. 
 Thy spacious coppers fills. Then manage so, 
 By planting in succession, that thy crops 
 The wondering daughters of the main may waft 
 To iiritaiu's shore, ere Libra weigh the year : 
 So shall thy merchant cheerful credit grant, 
 And well-earned opulence thy cares repay. 
 
 Tliy fields thus planted, to secure the canes 
 From the goat's baneful tooth, the churning boar. 
 From thieves, from fire, or casual or designed. 
 Unfailing herbage to thy toiling herds 
 Wouldst thou afford, and the spectators charm 
 With beauteous prospects, let the frequent hedge 
 Thy green plantation, regular, divide. 
 
 LEMONS, LIMES, OBANGES, LOGWOOD, RICINDS, AND ACACIi.— 
 HEDGES FOR CANE. 
 
 With limes, with lemons, let thy fences glow. 
 Grateful to sense ; now children of this clime : 
 And here and there let oranges erect 
 Their shapely beauties, and perfume the sky. 
 Nor less delightful blooms the logwood-hedge, 
 Whose wood to coction yields a precious balm, 
 Specific in the flux : endemial ail. 
 Much cause have I to weep thy fatal sway. — 
 But God is just, and man must not repine. 
 Nor shall the ricinus unnoted pass ; 
 Yet, if the colic's deathful pangs thou dread'st, 
 Tasto not its luscious nut. The acassee. 
 With which the sons of Jewry, stifi'-necked race. 
 Conjecture says, our God-Messiah crowned. 
 Soon shoots a thick, impenetrable fence. 
 Whose scent perfumes the night and morning sky. 
 Though baneful be its root. 
 
 The privet too, 
 Whoso white flowers rival the first drifts of snow 
 On Grampia's piny hills (0, might the muse 
 Tread, flushed with health, the Grampian hills 
 
 again!); 
 Emblem of innocence, shall grace my song. 
 Boast of the shrubby tribe, carnation fair. 
 Nor thou repine, though late the muse record 
 Thy bloomy honors. Tipt with burnished gold. 
 And with imperial purple crested high, 
 More gorgeous than the train of Juuo's bird, 
 Thy bloomy lumors oft the curious muse 
 Hath seen transported : seen the liuiuniiiig-l.ird, 
 Whose burnished neck bright gluw- witli \ri.Liiit 
 Least of the winged vagrants of thi> .^ky, ['^nM ; 
 Yet dauntless as the strong-pounced biid of .luvc ; 
 With fluttering vehemence attack thy cups, 
 To rob them of their nectar's luscious store. 
 
 STONE FENCES FOR CANE-FIELDS ; CACTUS ; WILD LIQUORICE ; 
 
 But if with stones thy meagre lands are spread, 
 Be these collected, — they will pay tho toil : 
 
 I And let Yitruvius, aided by the line, 
 
 I Fence thy plantations with a thick-built wall. 
 On this lay cuttings of the prickly pear ; 
 
 ,. They soon a formidable fence will shoot : 
 
 1 Wild liquorice here its red beads loves to hang,^ 
 Whilst scandent blossoms, yellow, purple, blue, 
 Unhurt, wind round its shield-like leaf and spears. 
 
 j Nor is its fruit inelegant of taste. 
 Though more its color charms the ravished eye ; 
 
 I Vermeil, as youthful beauty's roseate hue ! 
 
 I As thine, fair Christobelle : ah, when will Fate, 
 That long hath scowled relentless on the bard. 
 Give him some small plantation to enclose. 
 Which he may call his own ? Not wealth he cra\es, 
 But independence : yet if thou, sweet maid, 
 In health and virtue bloom, though worse betide, 
 Thy smile will smooth Adversity's rough brow. 
 
 In ItalyV L'lr, 
 
 iM.u.id- the myrtle shoots 
 
 Afragniiil IriMr. 
 
 ;unl l.l.i-somsin the sun. 
 
 Here, on il>r ,>.,1 
 
 h -t 1. r^,, of those blessed 
 
 Withlittl.; .ai,, 
 
 Ih. riant ut love would gro 
 
 Then to the citro 
 
 1 join the plant of love, 
 
 And with their scent and shade enrich your isles. 
 
 SHADE-TREES NOT NOXIOUS j THEIR VTILITY. 
 
 Yet some pretend, and not unspecious they, 
 The wood-nymphs foster the contagious blast. 
 Foes to the Dryads, they remorseless fell 
 Each shrub of shade, each tree of spreading root, 
 That woo the first glad fannings of the breeze. 
 Far from the muse be such inhuman tlioughts ; 
 Far better recks she of tho woodland tribes, 
 
 ! Earth's eldest birth, and earth's best ornament. 
 
 I Ask him, whom rude necessity compels 
 To dare the noontide fervor in this clime — 
 
 I Ah, most intensely hot ! — how much he longs 
 For cooling, vast, impenetrable shade. 
 The muse, alas, the experienced muse, can tell : 
 Oft hath she travelled, while solstitial beams 
 Shot yellow deaths on the devoted land ; 
 Oft, oft hath she their ill-judged avarice blamed. 
 Who to the stranger, to their slaves and herds, 
 Denied this best of joys, the breezy shade. 
 And are there none whom generous pity warms, 
 Friends to the woodland reign, whom shades 
 delight? [trees, 
 
 Who, round their green domains plant hedgerow 
 And with cool cedars screen the public way ? 
 
 : GOOD PLANTER : 
 
 : PROSPEROUS EXILt 
 
 Yes, good Montano ; friend of man was he : 
 Ilim persecution, virtue's deadliest foe. 
 Drove, a lorn exile, from his native shore ; 
 From his green hills, where many a fleecy flock, 
 
 ' Where many a heifer, crept their wholesome food; 
 And many a swain, obedient to his rule, 
 
 [ Him their loved master, their protector, owned. 
 Yet, from that paradise, to Indian wilds, 
 
 ■ To tropic suns, to fell barbaric hinds, 
 
WINTER — DBCEMBBR. 
 
 423 
 
 A poor outcast, an alien, did be roam ; 
 ^ IIi.< ivilo. till' partniii- of hi3 better hours, 
 
 Anl "i[r M\, . t iiilant, olioerod his dismal way : 
 riiii-"l I' l.i<>'>i' ; yet the orient sun, 
 Vi 1 wt^-tn II i'luobus, saw him wield the hoe. 
 I At first a garden all his wants supplied 
 I (For temperance sat oheorful at his board). 
 With yams, cassada, and the food of strength. 
 Thrice wholesome tanies : while a neighboring doll 
 (Which nature to the soursop had resigned), 
 With ginger and with Raleigh's pungent plant. 
 Gave wealth ; and gold bought bettor land and slaves. 
 
 1 i TUS PLASTATIOS OF THS IMMIGBiST MOSTASO DB3CBIBSD ; 
 
 corros, cacao, coffkb, slaves. 
 Heaven blessed his labor : now the cotton shrub. 
 Graced with broad yellow flowers unhurt by worms. 
 O'er many an acre sheds its whitest down : 
 The power of rain in genial moisture bathed 
 His oacao-walk, which teemed with marrowy pods ; 
 His coSfeo bathed, that glowed with berries red 
 As Danae's lip, or, Theodosia, thine. 
 Yet countless as the pebbles on the shore ; 
 Oft, while drought killed his impious neighbor's 
 
 In time, a numerous gang of sturdy slaves, 
 Well-fed, well-clothed, all emulous to gain 
 Their master's smile, who treated them like men, 
 lilackened his cane-lands; which with vast increase. 
 Beyond the wish of avarice, paid his toil. 
 
 Nocramps with sudden death surprised his mules; 
 No glandcr-pest hi.s airy stables thinned : 
 And, if disorder seized his negro-train, 
 Celsus was called, and pining illness flew. 
 His gate stood wide to all ; but chief the poor, 
 The unfriended stranger, and the sickly, shared 
 His prompt munificence : no surly dog, 
 Nor surlier Ethiop, their approach debarred. 
 The Muse, that pays this tribute to his fame, 
 Oft hath escaped the sun's meridian blaze. 
 Beneath yon tanmrind-vista, which his hands 
 Planted ; and which, impervious to the sun, 
 Uis latter days beheld. 
 
 . I. PLAKTBll, 1 
 
 One 
 
 ) sat 
 
 Beneath its breezy shade, what time the sun 
 llis sultry vengeance from the Lion poured ; 
 And calmly thus his eldest hope addressed. 
 
 ' Be pious, be industrious, be humane ; 
 From proud oppression guard the laboring hind. 
 Whatc'er their creed, God is the sire of man. 
 His image they ; then dare not thou, my son, 
 To bar the gates of mercy on mankind. 
 Your foes forgive, for merit must make foes ; 
 And in each virtue far surpass your sire. 
 Y'our means are ample, heaven a heart bestow ! 
 So health and peace shall be your portion here ; 
 
 And yon bright sky, to which my soul n.tpircs. 
 Shall bless you with eternity of joy.' 
 
 DBATH OF TUK OOOD PLASTER. 
 
 Ho spoke, and ere the swift-winged zuinbadore 
 The mountain-desert startled with his hum, 
 Ere fire-flies trimmed their vital lamps, and ere 
 Uun evening trod on rapid twilight's heel, 
 
 Uis knoll was rung ; 
 
 And all the cauc-lands wept their father lost. 
 
 Muse, yet a while indulge my rapid course ; 
 And I '11 unharness soon the foaming steeds. 
 
 WEKDISG THE case; BOEISG TUB SOIL ISTO Tilt tk».mm.o. 
 
 If Jove descend, propitious to thy vows. 
 In frequent floods of rain, successive crops 
 Of weeds will spring. Nor venture to repine, 
 Though oft their toil thy littlo gang renew ; 
 Their toil ten-fold the melting heavens repay : 
 F,,i < i 11 thv pl:int'< will magnitude acquire, 
 T,..(nni :ill iMil. 1^'iowth ; before the sun, 
 '111, |,i,iii< I liiu- nitlidraw their puny fires. 
 ,\nl III .u-li inituiiiicd, then, thy canes will shoot : 
 Cure iiiclic.rotes their growth. The trenches fill 
 With their collateral mould ; as in a town 
 Which foes have long beleaguered, unawares 
 A strong detachment sallies from each gate, 
 And levels all the labors of the plain. 
 
 And now thy cane's first blades their verdure lose. 
 And hang their idle heads. Be these stripped off ; 
 So shall fresh sportive airs their joints embrace, 
 And by their dalliance give the sap to rise. 
 But, 0, beware ! let no unskilful hand 
 The vivid foliage tear : their channelled spouts. 
 Well-pleased, the watery nutriment convey. 
 With filial duty, to the thirsty stem ; 
 And, spreading wide their reverential arms. 
 Defend their parent from solstitial skies. 
 
 Subject prnposed. Address to William Shcnstonc, Esq. Of 
 monkeys. Of nils niid other vermin. Of weeds. Of the 
 yellow fly. Oflhenreasylly. Of the blast. A hurricane 
 ■ — calms anil earthquakes. .Male. 
 
 Enough of culture. — A less pleasing theme. 
 What ills await the ripening cane, demands 
 My serious numbers : these the thoughtful Muse 
 Hath oft beheld, dcep-pierccd with generous woo. 
 For she, poor e.xilc ! boasts no waving crops ; 
 For her no circling mules press dulcet streams ; 
 No negro-band huge foaming coppers skim ; 
 Nor fermentation (wine's dread sire) for her. 
 With Vulcan's aid, from cane a spirit draws, 
 Potent to quell the madness of despair. 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Yet oft the range she walks, at shut of eve ; 
 Oft sees red lightninj; at the midnight hour, 
 When nod the watches, stream alung the sky ; 
 Not innocent, as what the learned call 
 The Boreal iii<iru. whicb, through the azure air, 
 Fb.hc- it- tnniulnu- r;,y.-, in paiut.'^l >tir:.K.-, 
 
 AVhilr nV,' ,,,_!, t~ ;- .1 ilr, lurl.l llr.-r. UnW : 
 Xor >linl^ tlH \lu-.. ImI- .v;ilk, iiniurlM.i ,M Ih.-ll;. 
 
 lluiv ^hv tli.' plaiitLT, hii[Ay, muy udsl-ic ; 
 Till tardy muru uubar the gates ol" light, 
 And, opening on the main with sultry beam, 
 To burnished silver turns the blue-green wave. 
 
 Say, will my Shenstone lend a patient ear, 
 And weep at woes unknown to Britain's isle ? 
 Yes, thou wilt weep ; for pity chose thy breast, 
 With taste and science for their soft abode : 
 Yes, thou wilt weep: thine own distress thou beai"'st 
 Undaunted ; but another's melts thy soul. 
 
 * 0, were my pipe as soft, my dittied song ' 
 As smooth as thine, my too, too distant friend, 
 Shenstone ; my soft pipe and my dittied song 
 Should hush the hurricane's tremendous roar, 
 And from each evil guard the ripening cane ! 
 
 Destructive, on the upland sugar-groves 
 The uiiiukt-y-nation preys : from rocky heights, 
 In silent parties, they descend by night, 
 And, posting watchful sentinels to warn 
 AVhen hostile steps approach, with gambols they 
 Pour o'er the cane-grove. Luckless he to whom 
 That land pertains ! in evil hour, perhaps. 
 And thoughtless of to-morrow, on a die 
 He hazards millions ; or, perhaps, reclines 
 On luxury's soft lap, the pest of wealth ; 
 And, inconsiderate, deems his Indian crops 
 ^\'ill amply her insatiate wants supply. 
 
 From these insidious droles (peculiar pest 
 Of Liamuiga's hills) wouldst thou defend 
 Thy waving wealth ; in traps put not thy trust. 
 However baited : treble every watch. 
 And well with arms provide them ; faithful dogs. 
 Of nose sagacious, on their footsteps wait. 
 With these attack the predatory bands ; 
 Quickly the unequal conflict they decline, 
 And, chattering, fling their ill-got spoils away. 
 So when, of late, innumerous Gallic hosts, 
 Fierce, wanton, cruel, did by stealth invade 
 The peaceable American's domains. 
 While desolation marked their faithless route ; 
 No sooner Albion's martial sons advanced. 
 Than the gay dastards to their forests fled, 
 And left their spoils and tomahawks behind. 
 
 Nor with less waste the whiskered vermin-ra' 
 A countless clan, despoil the low-land cane. 
 These to destroy, while commerce hoists the f 
 
 Loose rocks abound, or tangling bushes bloom, 
 What planter knows ? — Yet prudence may reduce. 
 Encourage, then, the breed of savage cats, 
 -Nor kill the winding snake, thy foes they eat. 
 Thus, on the mangrove-banks of Guayaquil, 
 fliihl nf the rocky desert, sea-like stream, 
 \\ itli -tuilious care, the American preserves 
 rill' -;tllinazo, else that sea-like stream 
 (Wheiicu traffic pours her bounties on mankind) 
 Bread alligators would alone possess. 
 Thy foes, the teeth-filed Ibbos also love ; 
 Nor thou their wayward appetite restrain. 
 
 Some place decoys, nor will they not avail. 
 Replete with roasted crabs, in every grove 
 These fell mauraders gnaw ; and pay their slaves 
 Some small reward for every captive foe. 
 So practise Gallia's sons ; but Britons trust 
 In other wiles ; and surer their success. 
 
 RATSBANE, MIXED WITH CASSADA, DKSTItOTS BATS i NIGHT- 
 
 With Misnian arsenic, deleterious bane. 
 Pound up the ripe cassada's well-rasped root, 
 And form in pellets ; these profusely spread 
 Round the cane-groves, where skulk the vermin- 
 They, greedy, and unweeting of the bait, [breed : 
 Crowd to the inviting cates, and swift devour 
 Their palatable death ; for soon they seek [die. 
 The neighboring spring, and drink, and swell, and 
 But dare not thou, if life deserve thy care, 
 The infected rivulet taste ; nor let thy herds 
 Graze its polluted brinks, till rolling time 
 Have fined the water, and destroyed the bane. 
 'T is safer then to mingle nightshade's juice 
 With flour, and throw it liberal "mong thy canes : 
 They touch not this ; its deadly scent they fly, 
 And sudden colonize some distant vale. 
 
 
 These let thy little gang with skilful hand, 
 Oft as they spread abroad, — and oft they spread,- 
 Careful pluck up, so swell thy growing heap 
 Of rich manure. And yet some weeds arise. 
 Of aspect mean, with wondrous virtues fraught 
 (And doth not oft uncommon merit dwell 
 In men of vulgar looks, and trivial air ?): 
 Such, planter, be not thou ashamed to save 
 From foul pollution and unseemly rot ; 
 Much will they benefit thy house and thee. 
 
 USE OF THE YELLOW 
 
 But chief the yellow thistle thou select, 
 ^^Tiose seed the stomach frees from nauseous loads ; 
 And, if tho music of the mountain-dove 
 Delight thy pensive ear, sweet friend to thought ! 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 425 
 
 This iirumpts tliiir coninj,', un<l iiilliiuics thoir love. 
 Nur let rudo bands the knuttuU gTa»s prufAne, 
 AVbosc juico worms Ry : ah, dire ondemiul ill ! 
 How many fathers, fathers now no more, 
 Uow many orphans, now lament thy rage ? 
 The oow-itoh also save ; but let thick gloves 
 Thine hands dolond, or thou wilt sadly rue 
 Thy rash imprudence, when ten thousand darts 
 Sharp as the bce-sting fasten in thy flesh, 
 .\ik1 give thee up to torture. But, unhurt, 
 Planter, thou mayst the humble ehickwced cull ; 
 .\nJ that which coyly flies the astonished grasp. 
 
 BXCELLKST ASTIDOIES TO POISO.SS. 
 
 Not the confection named from Pontus' king j 
 Not the blessed apple Median elimcs produce, 
 Though lofty Maro (whose immortal muse 
 Distant I follow, and, submiss, adore) 
 Hath sung its properties, to counteract 
 Dire spells, slow-muttered o'er the baneful bowl. 
 Where cruel stepdames poisonous drugs have 
 
 brewed ; 
 Can vie with these low tenants of the vale. 
 In driving poisons from the infected frame. 
 
 POISOS FISH OF TUB CABIBBBAN SKA. 
 
 For here, alas ! (ye sons of luxury, mark !) 
 The sea, though on its bosom Halcyons sleep, 
 Abounds with poisoned lish ; whose crimson iins. 
 Whose eyes, whose scales, bedropt with azure, gold. 
 Purple, and green, in all gay Summer's pride, 
 Amuso the sight ; whose taste the palate charms ; 
 Yet death, in ambush, on the banquet waits. 
 Unless these antidotes be timely given. 
 But, say what strains, what numbers can recite 
 
 Thy praises, vervain ; or, wild liquorice, thino ? 
 For not the costly root, the gift of God, 
 Gathered by those who drink the Volga's wave 
 (Prince of Europa's streams, itself a sea). 
 Equals your potency ! Did planters know 
 But half your virtues, not the cane itself 
 Would they with greater, fonder pains preserve ! 
 
 I.SSECTS nCBTFUL TO TUK CANK ; THK YELLOW FLY ; THE 
 
 Still other maladies infest the cane. 
 And worse to bo subdued. The insect-tribe, 
 That, fluttering, spread their pinions to the sun, 
 Kceall the muse : nor shall their many eyes, 
 Though edged with gold, their many-colored down. 
 From death preserve them. In what distant clime. 
 In what recesses, are the plunderers hatched ? 
 Say, are they wafted in the living gale 
 From distant islands ? Thus, the looust-breed. 
 In winged caravans, that blot the sky, 
 Descend from far, and, ere bright morning dawn. 
 Astonished Afrie sees her crop devoured. 
 Or, doth the cane a proper nest afford, 
 And food adapted to the yellow fly ? — 
 
 54 
 
 The skilled in Nature's mystic lore observe 
 Each tree, each plant, that drinks the golden day, 
 Some reptile life sustains : thus eochinillo 
 Feeds on the Indian fig ; and should it harm 
 The foster plant, its worth that harm repays : 
 But ye, base insects ! no bright scarlet yield 
 To deck the British Wolf ; who now perhaps 
 (So heaven and George ordain) in triumph mounts 
 Some strong-built fortress, won from haughty Gaul 
 And though no plant such luscious nector yields 
 As yields the cane-plant, yet, vile parricides ! 
 Ungrateful ye the parent-cane destroy. 
 
 Muse ! say what remedy hath skill devised 
 To quell this noxious foe ! Thy blacks send forth, 
 A strong detachment, ere the increasing pest 
 Have made too firm a lodgment ; and, with care. 
 Wipe every tainted blade, and liberal lave 
 With sacred Neptune's purifying stream. 
 But this Augo'an toil long time demands. 
 Which thou to more advantage niayst employ : 
 If vows for rain thou ever didst prefer, 
 Planter, prefer them now : the rattling shower, 
 Poured down in constant streams for days and 
 
 nights. 
 Not only swells with nectar sweet thy cnncs. 
 But in the deluge drowns thy plundering foe. 
 
 .la his arms, 
 
 ■ ny, 
 
 In black succession rise, 'l o men of Kent, 
 When nipping Eurus, with the brutal force 
 Of Boreas joined in ruffian league, assail 
 Your ripened hop-grounds, tell me what you feel. 
 And pity the poor planter when the blast. 
 Fell plague of heaven ! perdition of the isles ! 
 Attacks his waving gold. Though well-manured ; 
 A richness though thy fields from nature boast ; 
 Though seasons pour ; this pestilence invades : 
 Too oft it seizes the glad infant-throng. 
 Nor pities their green nonage : their broad blades. 
 Of which the graceful wood-nymphs erst composed 
 The greenest garlands to adorn their brows. 
 First pallid, sickly, dry, and withered show ; 
 Unseemly stains succeed ; which, nearer vicweil 
 ' By microscopic arts, small eggs appear, 
 j Dire fraught with reptile-life ; alas < too soon 
 They burst their filmy jail, ond crawl abroail, 
 Bugs of uncommon shape ; thrice hideous show ! 
 Innumerons as the painted shells that loud 
 The wave-worn margin of the virgin isles ! 
 Innumerous as the leaves the plum-tree sheds, 
 When, proud of her fecundity, she shows 
 Naked her gold fruit to the God of noon. 
 
 EFFECTS OF THE ' BLAST." 
 
 Remorseless to its youth, what pity, say, 
 Can the oane's age expect ? In vain its pitch 
 
426 
 
 KURAL POETRY. GRAINGER. 
 
 With juice nectareous flows ; to pungent sour, 
 Foe to the bowels, soon its nectar turns : 
 Vain every joint a gemmy embryo bears. 
 Alternate ranged ; from these no filial young 
 Shall gratel'ul spring, to bless the plantei-'s eye. 
 
 With bugs confederate, in destructive league. 
 The ants' republic joins ; a villain crew. 
 As the waves countless, that plough up the deep 
 (Where Earns reigns vicegerent of the sky. 
 Whom Rhea bore to the bright god of day), 
 
 'Gainst such ferocious, such 
 What arts, what arms, shall si 
 
 Some bid the planter load the favoring gal 
 
 Witii i^itrh, iiiiJ Mil|iiuu-'s suffocating steam ;■ 
 
 imbered bands, 
 xperience use 1 
 
 the 
 
 111 (.iiilin- \niuijii - In^t, such feeble arms. 
 
 To luiin til. .ugh Intnl. not the blast subdue. 
 
 Others again, and better their success, 
 
 Command their slaves each tainted blade to pick 
 
 With care, and burn them in vindictive flames. 
 
 Labor immense ! and yet, if small the pest ; 
 
 If numerous, if industrious, be thy gang ; 
 
 At length, thou mayst the victory obtain. 
 
 But, if the living taint be far diffused. 
 
 Bootless this toil ; nor will it then avail 
 
 (Though ashes lend their suffocating aid) 
 
 To bare the broad roots, and the mining swarms 
 
 Expose, remorseless, to the burning noon. 
 
 Ah ! must then ruin desolate the plain? 
 
 Must the lost planter other climes explore ? 
 
 Howe'er reluctant, let the hoc uproot 
 
 The infected cane-piece ; and, with eager flames. 
 
 The liostile myriads thou to embers turn : 
 
 Far better, thus, a mighty loss sustain. 
 
 Which happier years and prudence may retrieve. 
 
 Than risk thine all. As when an adverse storm, 
 
 Impetuous, thunders on some luckless ship. 
 
 From green St. Christopher or Cathay bound : 
 
 Each nautic art the reeling seamen try : 
 
 The storm redoubles : death rides on every wave 
 
 Down by the board the cracking masts they hew, 
 
 And heave their precious cargo in the main. 
 
 Say, can the Muse, the pencil in her hand. 
 The all-wasting hurricane observant ride? 
 Can she, undazzled, view the lightning's glare. 
 That fires the welkin? Can she, unappalled. 
 When all the flood-gates of the sky are ope, 
 The shoreless deluge stem ? The Muse hath seen 
 The pillared flame, whose top hath reached the stars 
 
 Seen rocky, molten fragments, flung in air 
 From Etna's vext abyss ; seen burning streams 
 Pour down its channelled sides ; tremendous 
 
 scenes ! — 
 Yet not vext Etna's' pillared flames, that strike 
 The stars ; nor molten mountains hurled on high ; 
 Nor ponderous rapid deluges, that burn 
 Its deeply-channelled sides, cause such dismay, 
 Such desolation, hurricane, as thou, 
 When the Almighty gives thy rage to blow. 
 And all the battles of thy winds engage. 
 
 Soon as the Virgin's charms engross the sun, 
 And till his weaker flame the Scorpion feels. 
 But chief while Libra weighs the unsteady year. 
 Planter, with mighty props thy dome support ; 
 Each flaw repair ; and well, with massy bars, 
 Thy doors and windows guard ; securely lodge 
 Thy stocks and mill-points. 
 
 Then, or calms obtain ; 
 Breathless the royal palm-tree's airiest van ; 
 While, o'er the panting isle, the demon heat 
 High hurls his flaming brand ; vast, distant waves 
 The main drives furious in, and heaps the shore 
 With strange productions : or, the blue serene 
 Assumes a low'ring aspect, as the clouds 
 F'ly, wild-careering, through the vault of heaven ; 
 Then transient birds, of various kinds, frequent 
 Each stagnant pool ; some hover o'er thy roof ; 
 Then Eurus reigns no more ; but each bold wind. 
 By tun..-. n-ni|.. iIh' , ni|.iiT of the air 
 AVith.,"! " ' ^ ' ■ : 
 Thy lulu I I 1 .; iIr' coming storm 
 (For biii-i |;iii,iU ■ -' iiir portion of the sky). 
 In troops associate ; and, in cold sweats bathed. 
 Wild-bellowing, eye the pole. 
 
 Ye seamen, now. 
 Ply to the southward, if the changeful moon. 
 Or, in her interlunar palace hid, [glows : 
 
 Shuns night ; or, full-orbed, in night's forehead 
 For, sec ! the mists, that late involved the hill. 
 Disperse ; the mid-day sun looks red ; strange burs 
 Surround the stars, which vaster fill the eye. 
 A horrid stench the pools, the main emits ; 
 Fearful the genius of the forest sighs ; 
 The mountains moan ; deep groans the caverned cliff. 
 A night of vapor, closing fast around. 
 Snatches the golden moon. 
 
 Each wind appeased. 
 The North flies forth, and hurls the frighted air : 
 Not all the brazen engineries of man. 
 At once exploded, the wild burst surpass. 
 Yet thunder, yoked with lightning and with rain 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 427 
 
 Wutir with tire, increase the infornul din : 
 
 Canes, shrubs, trees, huts, are wliirlcil aloft in air. — 
 
 The wind is spent ; and ' all the isle below I 
 
 Is hush ns death.' ' 
 
 Soon issues forth the West, with sudden burst, j 
 
 And blasts more rapid, more resistless drives : 
 
 Rushes the headlong sky j the city roeks ; 
 
 The good man throws him on the trembling ground. 
 
 And dies the murderer in his inmost soul. 
 
 Sullen the West withdraws his eager storms. 
 
 Will not the tempest now hia furies ehain ? 
 
 Ah, no ! as when in Indian forests, wild. 
 
 Barbaric armies suddenly retire 
 
 After some furious onset, and behind 
 
 Vast roeks and trees their horrid forms conceal. 
 
 Brooding on slaughter, not repulsed ; for soon 
 
 Their growing yell the affrighted welkin rends. 
 
 And bloodier carnage mows th' ensanguined plain : 
 
 So the South, sallying from his iron caves 
 
 With mightier force, renews the aerial war ; 
 
 Sleep, frighted, flies j and see ! yon lofty palm, 
 
 Fair Nature's triumph, pride of Indian groves, 
 
 Cleft by the sulphurous bolt ! See yonder dome, 
 
 AVhero grandeur with propriety combined. 
 
 And Theodoras with devotion dwelt. 
 
 Involved in smouldering flames. — From every rock 
 
 Dashes the turbid torrent ; through each street 
 
 A river foams, which sweeps, with untamed might, 
 
 Men, o.xcn, cane-lands, to the billowy main. 
 
 Piuises the wind. — Anon the savage East 
 
 i;iils his winded tempests more relentless rave ; 
 
 X.iw brighter, vaster coruscations flash ; 
 
 Deepens the deluge ; nearer thunders roll ; 
 
 Earth trembles ; ocean reels ; and, in her fangs. 
 
 Grim desolation tears the shrieking isle, 
 
 Ere rosy Morn possess the ethereal plain, 
 
 To pour on darkness the full flood of day. 
 
 SULTRV CALUS OF TUB WEST INDIES DESCKIBBD i EFFECTS 
 ON TUii CANE. 
 
 Nor docs the hurricane's all-wasting wrath 
 Alone bring ruin on its sounding wing : 
 Even calms arc dreadful, and the fiery South 
 Oft reigns a tyrant in those fervid isles ; 
 For, from its burning furnace when it breathes, 
 Europe and Asia's vegetable sons. 
 Touched by its tainted vapor, shrivelled, die. 
 The hardiest children of the rocks repine : 
 And all the upland tropic-plants hang down 
 Their drooping heads ; show arid, coiled, adust. 
 The main itself seems parted into streams. 
 Clear as a mirror ; and with deadly scents 
 Annoys the rower, who, faint-hearted, eyes 
 The sails hang idly, noiseless, from the mast. 
 Thrioe hapless ho whom thus the hand of fate 
 Compels to risk the insuficrablo beam ! 
 A fiend, the worst the angry skies ordain 
 To punish sinful man, shall fatal seize 
 Uis wretched life, and to the tomb consign. 
 
 When such the ravage of the burning calm 
 On the stout, sunny children of the hill, [sprouts 
 What must thy cane-lands feel ? Thy late green 
 
 Nor bunch, nor joint ; but, sapless, arid, pine : 
 Those who have manhood reached, of yellow hue 
 (Symptom of health and strength), soon ruddy show ; 
 While the rich juice that circled in their veins. 
 Acescent, watery, poor, unwholesome tastes. 
 
 EAItTIIQUAKES OF TIIK WEST INI 
 
 Nor only, planter, are thy cane-groves burnt ; 
 Thy life is threatened. Muse, tho manner sing. 
 Then earthquakes. Nature's agonising pangs, 
 Oft shake the astonished isles : the solfuterro 
 Or sends forth thick, blue, sufibcating steams, 
 Or shoots to temporary flume. A din. 
 Wild, through the mountain's quivering rocky caves, 
 Like the dread crash of tumbling planets, roars. 
 When tremble thus the pillars of the globe, , 
 Like tho tall coco by the fierce North blown, 
 Can tho poor, brittle tenements of man 
 Withstand tho dreiul convulsion? Their dear homos, 
 Which shaking, tottering, crashing, bursting, fall, 
 The boldest fly ; and, on the open plain 
 Appalled, in agony the moment wait. 
 When, with disrupture vast, the waving earth 
 Shall whelm them in her sea-disgorging womb. 
 ! Nor less afi'righted are the bestial kind. 
 Tho bold siii'l .luix.js ill eiieh panting vein, 
 Andstii--' II I ill -es of sweat : 
 
 Thy low 111 II H- grassy food, 
 
 And seiii : iul, hollow souuds ; 
 
 ! The dog, ti... u,.-., -..,i.,.cl of night. 
 Deserts his post assigned, and, piteous, howls. — 
 
 Wido ocean feels : 
 
 The mountain-waves, passing their customed bounds. 
 
 Make direful, loud incursions on the land. 
 
 All overwhelming : sudden they retreat, 
 
 With their whole troubled waters ; but, anon. 
 
 Sudden return, with louder, mightier force 
 
 (The black rocks whiten, the vext shores resound) ; 
 
 And yet, more rapid, distant they retire. 
 
 Vast coruscations lighten all the sky. 
 
 With volumed flames ; while thunder's awful voice, 
 
 From forth his shrine, by night and horror girt. 
 
 Astounds the guilty, and appalls the good 
 
 For oft the best, smote by the bolt of heaven, 
 
 Wrapt in ethereal flame, forget to live : 
 
 Else, fair Thcana. — Muse, her fate deplore. 
 
 8T0HV OF JUNIO AND THEANA. 
 
 Soon as young reason dawned in Junio's breast, 
 His father sent him from these genial isles. 
 To where old Thames, with conscious pride, surveys 
 Oreen Eton, soft abode of every muse. 
 Each classic beauty soon he made his own ; 
 And soon famed Isis saw him woo the Nine, 
 On her inspiring banks : love tuned his song ; 
 For fair Thcana was his only theme, 
 Aoasto's daughter, whom, in early youth. 
 He oft distinguished j and for whom he oft 
 Had climbed the bonding coco's airy height. 
 To rob it of its nectar ; which tho maid, 
 When he presented, more ncotareous deemed, — 
 
428 
 
 KUEAL POETRY. 
 
 The sweetest sappadillas oft he brought ; 
 From him more sweet ripo sappadillas seemed. 
 Nor had long absence yet effaced her form ; 
 Her charms still triumphed o'er Britannia's fair. 
 One morn he met her in Phccn's' royal wallis ; 
 
 Nor knew, till tll-D, ^«> ■ l ^"1h ■ n > ..nl nih ■] ],1- :,I1 
 
 His taste matun , i . I i • , : -i i . 
 In color, form, 'm i h i ■ :i 
 
 She shone all p'Tfi 'i : \\ liilt- r iirj, ph .i-m^ ,ii i 
 And each soft virtiu; th:it tin; si-.\ :nl.jrns, 
 Adorned the woman. My imperfect strain, 
 Which Percy's 2 happier pencil would demand. 
 Can ill describe the transports .Junio felt 
 At this discovery : he declared his love ; 
 She owned his merit, nor refused his hand. 
 
 And shall not Hymen light his brightest torch 
 For this delighted pair ? Ah, Junio knew, 
 His sire detested his Theana's house ! — ■ 
 Thus duty, reverence, gratitude, conspired 
 To check their happy union. He resolved 
 (And many a sigh that resolution cost) 
 To pass the time, till death his sire removed, 
 In visiting old Europe's lettered climes : 
 While she (and many a tear that parting drew) 
 Embarked, reluctant, for her native isle. 
 
 Though learned, curious, and though nobly bent 
 With each rare talent to adorn his mind, 
 His native land to serve, no joys ho found. 
 Yet sprightly Gaul ; yet Belgium, Saturn's reign ; 
 Yet Greece, of old the scat of every muse. 
 Of freedom, courage ; yet Ausonia's' clime, 
 His steps explored ; where painting, music's strains, 
 Where arts, where laws (Philosophy's best child). 
 With rival beauties, bis attention claimed. 
 To his just-judging, bis instructed eye. 
 The all-perfect Jledicean Venus'* seemed 
 A perfect semblance of his Indian fair : 
 But when she spake of love, her voice surpassed 
 The harmonious warblings of Italian song. 
 
 Twice one long year elapsed, when letters came. 
 Which briefly told him of his father's death. 
 Afflicted, filial, yet to Heaven resigned, 
 Soon he reached Albion, and as soon embarked. 
 Eager to clasp the object of his love. 
 
 Blow, prosperous breezes ! swiftly sail, thou Po ! 
 Swift sailed the Po, and happy breezes blew. 
 
 In Biscay's stormy seas an armed ship, 
 of f.uir Mt|.( rior, from loud Charente's wave, 
 llii|.l til. in M,i l.,iard. The frighted flying crew 
 'llhir . ..I"i, -Hike ; when dauntless Junio, fired 
 With in.ljle indignation, killed the chief, 
 Who on the bloody deck dealt slaughter round. 
 The Gauls retreat ; the Britains loud huzza ; 
 And, touched with .shame, with emulation stung. 
 
 So plied their cannon, plied their missile fires. 
 That soon in air the hapless Thunderer blew. 
 
 Blow, prosperous breezes ! swiftly sail, thou Po ! 
 ; -May no more dangerous fights retard thy way ! 
 Soon Porto Santo's nreky heights they spy, 
 JMr > !,,n.I. ,i;i,i li-ing iu the distant air. 
 'I I i: It \\ lii-tii - ; laugh the sportive crew ; 
 
 I . i:: I- rr t'l rateh the favoring gale, 
 
 \\ liil' '11 llii yard-arm the harpooner sits, 
 
 .Strikes the boneta, or the shark ensnares. 
 
 The fringed urtica spreads her purple form 
 
 ' To catch the gale, and dances o'er the waves : 
 
 .Ail'. ' ! I , iHiin-,::. iilly |. lay ..("around. 
 
 I I. "I 111.' tii.].ii--l.n.i lliL-y flew, 
 
 I'll I n..L M, ' wh..n ,-liaU n.; f..eland? 
 
 Soon laud they made : and now in thought he elaspt 
 His Indian bride, and deemed his toils o'erpaid. 
 
 She, no less amorous, every evening walked 
 On the cool margin of the purple main, 
 Intent her Junio's vessel to descry. 
 
 One eve, faint calms for many a day had raged, 
 The winged demons of the tempest rose ; 
 Thunder, and rain, and lightning's awful power. 
 She fled : could innocence, could beauty, claim 
 E.xcmptioii from the grave, the ethereal bolt, 
 Thai -Int. h. .1 Inr s[ieeehless, o'er her lovely head 
 
 ! Dr. 
 
 r Richmond. 
 Bisbop of Dro. 
 tail. He pub- 
 
 M. iMw liil. , iiii|.aticnt, Junio leapt ashore, 
 lle^ai-.li.;j,s ._>! the demons of the storm. 
 Ah, youth I what woes, too great for man to bear, 
 Are ready to burst on thee ! Urge not so 
 Thy flying courser. Soon Theana's porch 
 Received him : at his sight, the ancient slaves 
 Afi'righted shriek, and to the chamber point. 
 Confounded, yet unknowing what they meant. 
 He entered hasty 
 
 Ah ! what a sight for one who loved so well ! 
 All pale and cold, in every feature death, 
 Thcana lay ; and yet a glimpse of joy 
 Play.ai ..II h. r fa.'... whiir with taint, faltering voice, 
 Sli.' I 111!' aiiih. --,i| (lir y..ulh. whom yet she knew. 
 
 ' ^^ . I Ill-, iii.v -liiiii... ii. iliy native shore ! 
 
 Thy .-i-ht r.'payi this .-uuuiiuus of my fate : 
 Live, and live happy ; sometimes think of me : 
 By night, by day, you still engaged my care ; 
 And, next to God, you now my thoughts employ : 
 Accept of this — my little all I give ; 
 Would it were larger ! ' — Nature could no more ; 
 She looked, embraced him, with a groan expired. 
 
 But say, what strains, what language can ex- 
 press, 
 The thousand pangs which tore the lover's breast ? 
 Upon her breathless corse himself he threw. 
 And to her elay-cold lips, with trembling haste, 
 Ten thousand kisses gave. He strove to speak ; 
 Nor words he found ; ho clasped her in his arms ; 
 He sighed, he swooned, looked up, and died away. 
 
 One grave contains this hapless, faithful pair ; 
 And still the oane-isles tell their matchless love ! 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 429 
 
 ilrcss. riantfrii have emiiloymcut »ll 
 Plnnlcrs should bi- pious. 
 
 mulnlRht. IVoi) begun. Cl „ , ,, 
 
 of uniMi'. iirvM cure requisite In reeding the mill. Hn- 
 miiiiiv ln»ui.U the tUBlmcd recommended. The lainted 
 i;iT»- «h..iil.l ii.it be ground. Their u»e. How to preserve 
 th-' Ittli-; mill iititl-points from sudden squniis. Address 
 1.1 Hi,. SUM, )iml prniseof Anll|5ua. A cntlle-inlll described. 
 Clio "I mill, s, <tc. Diseases to which they are »ui^|ect. 
 \ II i.t.i-iiiill the least liable to InU-rrupliou. Common in 
 (l.iii.liil.iii|.i- iiii.l Marlinlco. Praise of Lord Komney. 
 III.- iHiis-iiy .if a strong, clear lire. In boilini:. Planters 
 Mil. .111. t ;ihi .1 • ti.iv.- ;i spare set of vessels, because the 
 ii-,,ii ii.i , ik. and copper vessels to melt. 
 
 'l'l„. ,1 i: . 1 wiiter Into a thorough-heated 
 
 fun,,,, kimroing well, recommended. 
 
 A 1. liy,and open at lop, to the 
 
 l,.ew,„ I . . ..t vegetables. Sugar an es- 
 
 sential i^iUt. \\ h.u r.iiii-.ls Its granulation. How to for- 
 ward it. Uuiuli eaue. JKlTects of it. Bristol lime the 
 best temper. Various uses of Bristol ill 
 covado described. Bermudas " 
 
 
 I. The 
 
 5 the hot 
 
 Negroes 
 
 Tiicy should 
 
 1 boll c 
 
 IVhcn t 
 
 •the 
 
 This [iraotiuc 
 
 it, and makes 
 1 Mii.\ sand with their 
 ..a by the English. A 
 Of "Uie skimmings. Their various uses. Of 
 rum. Its praise. A West India prospect, when crop is 
 finished. An address to the Creoles, to live more upon 
 their esUtes than they do. The reasons. 
 
 IUKVESTISO ASD SUGAB-nOILIKO. — TUK SEW TEAR.— SIMILB 
 OP TUB PILGRIM. 
 
 From scenes of deep distress the heavenly Muse, 
 Emerging joyous, claps her dewy wings. 
 As when a pilgrim in the howling waste 
 iruth long time wandered, fearful at each step 
 Of tumbling cliBfs, fell serpents, whelming bogs ; 
 At last, from some long eminence, descries 
 I'an haunts of social life ; wide-cultured plains, 
 O'er which glad reapers pour ; ho eheerly sings : 
 So she to sprightlier notes her pipe attunes, 
 Than e'er these mountains heard ; to gratulate, 
 With duteous carols, the beginning year. 
 
 I Wolcomo thy glad approach : but chief the cane, 
 Whose juice now longs to murmur down tlie spout, 
 Hails thy loved coming ; January, hail ! 
 
 DEDICATION TO K 
 
 M ! thou, whoso polished mind contains 
 
 Each science useful to thy native isle ! 
 Philosopher, without the hermit's spleen ! 
 Polite, yet kana.l ; ami. Ih.iuKh solid, gay •' 
 Critic, whiisr Im .1 . . 1. 1. ..ly. fond, admires ; 
 Whose heart . . ' : , i . m IViendly shade ! 
 Planter, ivli..- . ,;iii;itinn taught 
 
 Each secret li.,-....ii ,.i )ki ..vU.tu .■iehool : 
 To thee the Muse a grateful tribute pays ; 
 She owes to thee the precepts of her song : 
 Nor wilt thou, sour, refuse, — though other cares, 
 The public wolfaro, claim thy busy hour, — 
 With her to roam (thrice-pleasing devious walk) 
 The ripened cane-piece, and with her to taste 
 (Delicious draught !) the nectar of the mill ! 
 
 PLASTERS SUOtn.D ACKSOWLEDOE THE DIVINB PROVIDKSCE. 
 
 The planter's labor in a round revolves ! 
 Ends with the year, and with the year begins. 
 
 Yo swains, to Heaven bend low in grateful 
 prayer. 
 Worship the Almighty ; whose kind-fostering hand 
 Hath blest your labor, and hath given the oano 
 To rise superior to each menaced ill. 
 
 Nor less, yc planters, in devotion, sue, 
 That nor the heavenly bolt, nor casual spark, 
 Nor hand of malice, may the crop destroy. 
 
 Hail, eldest birth of time ! in other climes, 
 In the old world, with tempests ushered in ; 
 While rilled Nature thine appearance wails. 
 And savage Winter wields his iron mace : 
 But not the rockiest verge of these green isles. 
 Though mountains heaped on mountains bnive the 
 Dares Winter by his residence profane. [sky. 
 
 At times the ruffian, wrapt in murky state. 
 Inroads will, sly, attempt ; but soon the sun, 
 Benign protector of the cane-land isles. 
 Repels the invader, and his rude mace breaks. 
 
 Hero, every mountain, every winding dell 
 (Haunt of the Dryads ; where, beneath the shade 
 Of broad-leafed china, idly they repose. 
 Charmed with the murmur of the tinkling rill. 
 Charmed with the hummings of the neighboring 
 hive). 
 
 Ah me ! what numerous, deafening bells rt- 
 What cries of horror startle the dull steep ? [sound .' 
 What gleaming brightness makes, at midnight, day, 
 By its portentous glare 1 Too well I see 
 Patemon's fate, the virtuous and the wise ! 
 Where were yo, watches, when the flame burst forth ? 
 A little care had then the hydra quelled : 
 But, now, what clouds of white smoke load the sky ! 
 How strong, how rapid, the combustion pours ! 
 Aid not, ye winds ! with your destroying breath. 
 The spreading vengeance. — They contemn my 
 prayer. 
 
 Roused by the deafening bells, the cries, the 
 From every quarter, in tumultuous bands, [blaze. 
 The Negroes rush, and 'mid the crackling flames 
 Plunge, demon-like ! All, all, urge every nene : 
 This way, tear up those canes ; dash the firo out, 
 Which sweeps, with serpent-error, o'er the ground. 
 There, hew these down ; their topmost branches 
 And hero bid all thy watry engines play ; [burn ; 
 For here the wind the burning deluge drives. 
 
 In vain. — iMore wide the blazing torrent rolls ; 
 More loud it roara, more bright it fires the polo ! 
 And toward thy mansion, see, it bends its way. 
 Haste ! far, far, your infant throng remove : 
 Quick from your stables drag your steeds and mules: 
 
RURAL POETRY. — GRAINGER. 
 
 With well-wet blankets guard your cypress-roofs ; 
 And where thy dried canes in large stacks are 
 Efforts but serve to iri-it;itr tlir i\:uu>- : f pilr,]. 
 Naught but thy ruin e;in t\i- n v. i.itli ;i|<|n a-r. 
 Ah, my Pala?raon ! what a^nh I ili\ . .nv. 
 Oft to prevent the earlirst ihiwn nt day, 
 And walk thy ranges at the nuun uf night? 
 What though no ills assailed thy bunching sprouts, 
 And seasons poured obedient to thy will : 
 All, all must perish ; nor shalt thou preserve 
 Wherewith to feed thy little orphan throng. 
 
 TETE RIPE CROP J COPPERS, NEGROES, MILLS. 
 
 0, may the cane-isles know few nights like this ! 
 For now the sail-clad points, impatient, wait 
 The hour of sweet release, to court the gale. 
 The late-hung coppers wish to feel the warmth 
 Which well-dried fuel from the cane imparts : 
 The Negro-train, with placid look, survey 
 Thy fields, which full perfection have attained, 
 And pant to wield the bill (no surly watch 
 Bare now deprive them of the luscious cane) : 
 Nor thou, my friend, their willing ardor check ; 
 Encourage rather ; cheerful toil is light. 
 So from no field shall slow-paced oxen draw 
 More frequent loaded wains ; which many a day, 
 And many a night, shall feed thy crackling mills 
 With richest offerings : while thy far-seen flames. 
 Bursting through many a chimney, bright emblaze 
 The -^thiop-brow of night. And see, they pour 
 (Ere Phosphor his pale circlet yet withdraws, 
 What time gray dawn stands tip-toe on the hill) 
 O'er the rich cane-grove : Muse, their labor sing. 
 
 Some, bending, of their sapless burden ease 
 The yellow-jointed canes (whose height exceeds 
 A mounted trooper, and whose clammy round 
 Measures two inches full) ; and near the root 
 Lop the stem off, which quivers in their hand 
 AVith fond impatience : soon its branchy spires 
 (Food to thy cattle) it resigns ; and soon 
 Its tender prickly tops, with eyes thick set, 
 To load with future crops thy long-hoed land. 
 These with i\wh- -ndi, tlirir [Jiaiit branches bound 
 (Fornotapurt .^r il,,- ;,!,,;,/.i,,- plant 
 But serves somr n-. m! |iin [.-< ), rjiarge the yonng : 
 
 Even lameness from its leafy pallet crawls, 
 To join the favored gang. What of the cane 
 Remains — and much the largest part remains — 
 Cut into junks a yard in length, and tied [wain, 
 In small light bundles, load the broad-wheeled 
 The mules crook-harnessed, and the sturdier crew. 
 With sweet abundance. 
 
 THE LINCOLN SHEEP-SHEARINGS. 
 
 As on Lincoln plains 
 (Ye plains of Lincoln, sound your Dyer's praise !) 
 When the laved snow-white flocks are numerous 
 
 The senior swains, with sharpened shears, cut off 
 
 The fleecy vestiiR-ut ; otlier.^ .stir the tar : 
 
 Light-bandied round, but innocent of ill ; 
 Nor choral song are wanting : echo rings. 
 
 Nor need the driver, .Ethiop authorized. 
 Thence more inhuman, crack his horrid whip ; 
 From such dire sounds the indignant Muse averts 
 Her virgin ear, where music loves to dwell : 
 'T is malice now, *t is wantonness of power. 
 To lash the laughing, laboring, singing throng. 
 
 What cannot song ? all nature feels its power : 
 The hind's blithe whistle, as through stubborn soils 
 He drives the shining share, more than the goad 
 His tardy steers impels. — The Muse hath seen, 
 AVhen health danced frolic in her youthful veins, 
 And vacant gambols winged the laughing hours — 
 The Muse hath seen on Annan's pastoral hills, 
 Of theft and slaughter erst the fell retreat. 
 But now the shepherd's best beloved walk — 
 Hath seen the shepherd, with his sylvan pipe, 
 Lead on his flock o'er crags, through bogs, and 
 A tedious journey ; yet not weary they, [streams. 
 Drawn by the enchantment of his artless song. 
 AVhat cannot music? — When brown Ceres asks 
 The reaper's sickle, what like magic sound. 
 Puffed from sonorous bellows by the squeeze 
 Of tuneful artist, can the rage disarm 
 Of the swart dog-star, and make harvest light? 
 
 And now thy mills ^ance eager in the gale ; 
 Feed well their eagerness : but, 0, beware ; 
 Nor trust between the steel-cased cylinders 
 The hand incautious : off the member snapt 
 Thou 'It ever rue, sad spectacle of woo ! 
 
 Are there — the Muse can scarce believe the tale — 
 Are there, who, lost to every feeling sense. 
 To reason, interest, lost, their slaves desert, 
 And manumit them — generous boon ! — to starve. 
 Maimed by imprudence, or the hand of Heaven ? 
 The good man feeds his blind, his aged steed. 
 That in his service spent his vigorous prime : 
 And dares a mortal to his fellow-man 
 (For, spite of vanity, thy slaves are men) 
 Deny protection ? Muse, suppress the tale ! 
 
 Ye, who in bundles bind the lopt-off canes, 
 But chiefly ye who feed the tight-braced mill, 
 In separate parcels far the infected fling : 
 Of bad cane-juico the least admixture spoils 
 The richest, soundest ; thus, in pastoral walks, 
 One tainted sheep contaminates the fold. 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 431 
 
 Nor yut to dung-hoapa thou resign the oanes, 
 Which or tlio sun hftth burnt, or rata hiivo gnawed. 
 These, to suiall junks reduceil, and in huge casks 
 Steeped, where no cool winds blow, do thou fer- 
 ment : 
 Then, when, from his entanglements enlarged, 
 Th' evasive spirit mounts, by Vulcan's aid 
 (Nor Amphitryto will her help deny). 
 Do thou through all his winding ways pursue 
 The runaway ; till, in thy sparkling bowl 
 Confined, he dances, more a friend to life 
 And joy than that nepenthe, famed of yoro, 
 Which Polydamia, Thono's imperial queen. 
 Taught Jovc-born Ilelen on the banks of Nile. 
 
 CA»E OK THB WISD-MH.I3 j THEIR CNCEUTilSTV 
 
 As on old ocean, when the wind blows high, 
 The cautious mariner contracts his sail, 
 So hero, when squally bursts the speeding gale, 
 If thou from ruin wouldst thy points preserve, 
 Less bellying canvas to the storm oppose. 
 
 Yet the faint breeze oft flags on listless wings, 
 Nor tremulates the coco's airiest arch. 
 While the red sun darts deluges of fire. 
 And soon (if on tho gale thy crop depend) 
 Will all thy hopes of opulence defeat. 
 
 ArOSTROPHE TO TUE SCS. — iSTIOei DROUOHTS. 
 
 • Informer of the planetary train ! ' 
 Source undiminished of all-cheering light, 
 or roseate beauty, and heart-gladdening joy ! 
 Fountain of Being, on whoso water broods 
 The organic spirit, principle of life ! 
 Lord of the Seasons ! who in courtly pomp 
 Lackey thy presence, and, with glad despatch, 
 Pour, at thy bidding, o'er the land and sea ! 
 Parent of vegetation ! whose fond grasp 
 Tho sugar-cane displays ; and whose green car 
 Soft-stealing dews, with liquid pearls adorned, 
 Fat-fostering rains, and buxom genial airs. 
 Attend triumphant ! Why, ah, why so oft. 
 Why hath Antigua, sweetly-social isle. 
 Nurse of each art, where science yet finds friends 
 Amid this waste of waters, wept thy rage 7 
 
 DF.:iCRIPTIOS OF THE CATTLE-MU.l, FOB tiRI.VDISO THE CASE. 
 
 Then trust not, planter, to tho unsteady gale ; 
 But in Tobago's endless forests fell 
 The tall, tough hickory, or calaba. 
 Of this be forced two pillars in tho ground. 
 Four paces distant, and two cubits high : 
 Other two pillars raise ; the wood the same. 
 Of equal sizo and height. The calaba. 
 Than steel more durable, contemns the rain. 
 And .sun's intensest beam ; the worm, that pest 
 Of mariners, which winds its fatal way 
 Through heart of British onk, reluctant leaves 
 The closer calaba. — By transverse beams 
 Secure the whole ; and in tho pillared frame 
 Sink, artist, tho vast bridge-tree's mortised form 
 Of ponderous hickory ; hickory time defies : 
 
 To this be nailed three polished iron phitos ; 
 
 Whereon throe steel Capouces turn with ease, 
 
 Of three long rollers, twice nine inches round, 
 
 With iron cased, and jagged with many a cog. 
 
 Tho central cylinder exceeds the rest 
 
 In portly size, thence aptly Captain named. 
 
 To this be riveted th' extended sweeps ; 
 
 And harness to each sweep two seasoned mules : 
 
 They, pacing round, give motion to the whole. 
 
 Tho close-braced cylinders with ease revolve 
 
 On their greased axle, and with ease reduce 
 
 To trash tho canes thy negroes throw between. 
 
 Fast flows tho liquor through the lead-lined spouts; 
 
 And, depurated by opposing wires, 
 
 In the receiver floats a limpid stream. 
 
 So twice five casks, with muscovado filled. 
 
 Shall from thy stanchions drip, ere day's bright god 
 
 Hath in tho Atlantic six times cooled his wheels. 
 
 thou against calamity provide 7 
 Let a well-shinglcd roof, from Raleigh's land, 
 Defend thy stock from noon's inclement blaze. 
 And from night-dews ; for night no respite knows. 
 
 Nor, when their destined labor is performed. 
 Bo thou ashamed to load the panting mules 
 (The Muse, soft parent of each social grace, 
 Witli eyes of love God's whole creation views) 
 To the warm pen ; where copious forage strewed. 
 And strenuous rubbing, renovate their strength. 
 So, fewer ails (alas, how prone to ails !) 
 Their days shall shorten ; ah, too short at best ! 
 
 For not even then, my friend, art thou secure 
 From fortune ; spile of all thy steady care. 
 What ills, that laugh to scorn Machaon's art. 
 Await thy cattle ! farcy's tabid form. 
 Joint-racking spasms, and colic's pungent pang, 
 Need the Muse tell ? which, in one luckless moon, 
 Thy sheds dispeople ; when perhaps thy groves. 
 To full perfection shot, by day, by night, 
 Indesinent demand their vigorous toil. 
 
 WATER-MILLS LEAST PBECABIOrS FOR QBISniSO CASE. 
 
 Then happiest he for whom the Naiads pour. 
 From rocky urns, the never-ceasing stream, 
 
 I To turn his rollers with unbought despatch. 
 
 j In Karukcra's rich, well-watered isle. 
 In Mativnina, boast of Albion's arms. 
 The brawling Naiads for the planters toil, 
 Ilowe'er unworthy ; and, through solemn scenes. 
 Romantic, cool, with rock and woods between, 
 Enchant the senses ! but among thy swains, 
 .Sweet Liamuiga, who such bliss can boast? 
 
 LORD ROXMIT BCTLOGIZED. 
 
 Yes, Romney, thou mayst boast ; of British heart, 
 Of courtly manners, joined to ancient worth : 
 Friend to thy Britain's every blood-earned right, 
 ! From tyrants wrung, the many or the few. 
 
432 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — GRAINGER. 
 
 By wealth by titles by ambition's luie 
 
 Not to be tcmpte i fro ii ftii h n is patn 
 
 While othei f I 1 II ft tl ir pincc 
 
 Bold disapri 1 1 M i i 
 
 Their tern i I 1 I 1 | | I ml 
 
 In lignant ii ll i ] 
 
 \u 1 with the w 11 u 1 II 
 
 Then leci u sultk il I , I 
 
 Tht, lu I rt inLL the n 1 | I I 
 
 Of cuil umies Freed m L„ 1 
 
 Nor in the senate di 1 t thou only win 
 
 The palm of eloquence setuiely bold 
 
 But learedst thy bannei'i fluttering in the wind : 
 
 Ktnt, fiom each hamlet, pouit 1 hei marshalled 
 
 To hurl defiance on the threatening Gaul, [swains, 
 
 Thy foaming coppers well with fuel feed ; 
 For a clear, strong, continued fire improves 
 Tliy muscovado's color, and its grain. — 
 Yet vehement heat, protracted, will consume 
 Thy vessels, whether from the martial mine. 
 Or from thine ore, bright Venus, they are drawn ; 
 Or hammer, or hot fusion, give them form. 
 If prudence guides thee, then, thy stores shall hold 
 Of well-sized vessels a complete supply : 
 For every hour thy boilers cease to skim 
 (Now Cancer reddens with the solar ray) 
 Defeats thy honest purposes of gain. 
 
 Nor small the risk (when piety, or chance, 
 Force thee from boiling to desist) to lave 
 Thy heated furnace with the gelid stream. 
 
 ■\Vhiit ^ivii'l r\|,l,,-i,,ii-, ;,n.| nJLii .lire effects, 
 A few euld diLipi uf nutur will ]jruduce, 
 Uueautious, on the novel fluid thrown. 
 
 NECESSITY OF CLEANLINESS ; VENTILATION ; HEALTH OF 
 NEGROES. 
 
 For grain and color wouldst thou win, my friend, 
 At every curious mart, the constant palm ? 
 O'er all thy works let cleanliness preside. 
 Child of frugality ; and as the scum 
 Thick mantles o'er the boiling wave, do thou 
 The scum that mantles carefully remove. 
 
 From bloating drf>p=y. from pulmonic ails, 
 Wouldst thou drlruA iliv l..,il, i^ (prlmc of slaves). 
 For days, for iiii:lii.. i.i n. ri,., i,,,- luonths, involved 
 In the warm v^qun - all-i.lux.n- steam? 
 Thy boiling llouse be lofty : all atop 
 Open, and pervious to the tropic breeze ; [grate. 
 Whose cool perflation, wooed through many a 
 Dispels the steam, and gives the lungs to play. 
 
 The skilled in chemia, boast of modern arts. 
 Know, from experiment, the sire of truth, 
 In many a plant that oil, and acid juice, 
 
 And ropy mucilage, by nature live : 
 These, envious, stop the much-desired embrace 
 Of the essential salts, though coction bid 
 The aqueous particles to mount in air. 
 
 'Mong salts es^ntial, sugar wins the palm. 
 For taste, for color, and for various use : 
 Aii.l. Ill the nectar of the yellowest cane, 
 -Mil. I, iir.ir, oil, and mucilage, abound : 
 i;iii 111 the less mature, from mountain land, 
 Thvse harsh intruders so redundant float. 
 Muster so strong, as scarce to be subdued. 
 
 Muse, sing the ways to quell them. Some use 
 
 That cane whose juices, to the tongue applied. 
 In silence lock it, sudden, and constrained 
 (Death to Xantippe), with distorting jiain. 
 Nor is it not effectual : but wouldst thou 
 Have rival brokers for thy cades contend, 
 Superior arts remain. — Small casks provide, 
 Replete with limestone thoroughly calcined, 
 And from the air secured ; this Bristol sends, 
 Bristol, Britannia's second mart and eye ! 
 
 Nor ' to thy waters only trust for fame,' 
 Bristol ; nor to thy beamy diamonds trust : 
 Though these oft deck Britannia's lovely fair. 
 And those oft save the guardians of her realm. 
 Thy marble quarries claim the voice of praise. 
 Which rich incrusts thy Avon banks, sweet banks ! 
 Though not to you young Shakspeare, Fancy's child. 
 All rudely warbled his first woodland notes ; 
 Though not your caves, while terror stalked around. 
 Saw him essay to clutch the ideal sword. 
 With dn.ps of blood distflinf-d : yet, lovely banks. 
 
 Bristol, williiiiit lliy iiiiiilile, by the flame 
 Calcined t" ulntin.-., \;iin tlie stately reed 
 Would swfll niilijiiii r 1,1, lliihicnt ; hcatwould 
 
 The strongest, bost-liiiii_ im ■,■■ r..ii-,ime. 
 
 Without its aid, tlir ■■... i-r.n] i ■-,■!,] -tiram. 
 
 Seldom allowed til \ i' ■.. Iiy, 
 
 Though late it roam,,! n ,|,,ii,, i, .,i .lir, 
 Would steal from its involuntary bouuds, 
 And, by sly windings, set itself at large. 
 But chief thy lime the experienced boiler love 
 Nor loves ill-fouuded ; when no other art 
 Can bribe to union the coy floating salts, 
 A proper portion of this precious dust. 
 Cast in the wave (so showers alone of gold 
 Could win fair Daiiae to the gods embrace). 
 With nectared muscovado soon will charge 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 Thy shelving coolers, irhioh, sovorcly pressed 
 Between the fingers, not resolves ; and which 
 Rings in tho cask ; and or a light-brown hue. 
 Or thine, more precious silvery-gray, assumes. 
 
 Tho famed Bermuda's evor-healthy isles — 
 Jloro famed by gentle Waller's deathless strains, 
 Than for their cedars, which, insulting, fly 
 O'er the wide ocean — 'mid their roclts contain 
 A stone, which, when calcined (exporionoo says), 
 Is only second to Sabrina's lime. 
 
 MHiilo flows tho juice mellifluent from tho cane. 
 Grudge not, my friend, to let thy slaves, each morn, 
 But chief tho sick and young at setting day, 
 Themselves regale with oft-ropeatcd draughts 
 Of tepid nectar ; so shall health and strength 
 Confirm thy Negroes, and make labor light. 
 
 JOLLITY OF TUB SLAVES i DRV TIME BEST FOR DOtLISO. 
 
 While flame thy chimneys, while thy coppers 
 
 IIuw blithe, how jocund, the plantation smiles ! 
 
 By day, by night, resounds the choral song 
 
 Of glad barbarity ; serene, the sun 
 
 Shines not intensely hot ; the trade-wind blows ; 
 
 How sweet, how silken, is its noontide breath ! 
 
 While to far climes the fell destroyer, Death, 
 
 Wings his dark flight. Then seldom pray for rain : 
 
 Rather for cloudless days thy prayers prefer ; 
 
 For, if tho skies too frequently relent. 
 
 Crude flows the cane-juice, and will long elude 
 
 Tho boiler's wariest skill : thy canes will spring 
 
 To an unthrifty loftiness ; or, weighed 
 
 Down by their load (Ambition's curse), decay. 
 
 Encourage thou thy boilers ; much depends 
 On their skilled efforts. If too soon they strike. 
 Ere all the watery particles have fled. 
 Or lime suflicient granulate the juice. 
 In vain the thickening liquor is effused ; 
 An heterogeneous, on uncertain mass. 
 And never in thy coolers to condense. 
 
 BOIL SOT TOO MCCn -, MELiSSKS ; WISE. 
 
 Or, planter, if tho ooction they prolong 
 Beyond its stated time, tho viscous wave 
 Will in huge flinty masses crystallize, 
 Which forceful fingers scarce can crumble down, 
 And which with its melasses ne'er will part : 
 Yet this, fast-dripping in nectareous drops, 
 Not only bettors what remains, but, when 
 With art fermented, yields a noble wine. 
 Than which nor Gallia, nor the Indian clime, 
 AVliero rolls the Ganges, can a nobler show. 
 So misers in their cofi'ers look that gold. 
 Which, if allowed at liberty to roam. 
 Would better them, and benefit mankind. 
 
 sr 
 
 now TO PREVBST TOO LOOSE OBilS. 
 
 In the last coppers when tho embrowning wav 
 With sudden fury swells, some grease imini.xed 
 The foaming tumult sudden will compose. 
 And force to union tho divided grain. 
 So when two swarms in airy battle join, 
 Tho wing6d heroes heap the bloody field ; 
 Until some dust, thrown upward in the sky. 
 Quell tho wild conflict, and sweet peace restore. 
 
 False QoUia's sons, that hoe tho ooonn-isles, 
 Mix with their sugar loads of worthless sand, 
 Fraudful, thoir weight of sugar to increase. 
 Far bo such guile from Britain's honest swains ! 
 Such arts a while tho unwary may surprise, 
 And -benefit tho impostor ; but, ero long, 
 The skilful buyer will tho fraud detect, 
 And with abhorrence reprobate tho namo. 
 
 TUE TRICKS OF AViRlCE IS SCCAR3. 
 
 Fortune had crowned Avaro's younger years 
 With a largo tract of hind, on which tho cane 
 Delighted grew, nor ayk.-l tlm t-l .f :iit, 
 Tho sugar-bakers dccMjM I : L, nr 
 
 Of mighty profit, coulii li: , i i ■ ; 
 
 For whiteness, hardnof-. i- ili- I . ,i n I rr"|i. 
 
 His muscovado gave. But, nut eontciit 
 
 With this preeminence of honest gain. 
 
 Ho baser sugars started in his casks ; 
 
 His own, by mixing sordid things, debased. 
 
 One year tho fraud succeeded ; wealth immense 
 
 Flowed in upon him, and he blest his wiles : 
 
 The next, the brokers spurned th' adulterate mass. 
 
 Both on tho Avon and tho banks of Thame. 
 
 CSE OF SKIUMISOS j FOOD FOB SWISE ASD 3ICLES. 
 
 Be thrifty, planter, — even thy skimmings sjive : 
 For, planter, know, tho refuse of the eano 
 Serves needful purposes. Arc barbecues [feed 
 
 Tho oatos thou lov'st '! Wliat like rich skimmings 
 Tho grunting, bristly kind ? Your laboring mules 
 They soon invigorate : give old Bayard these, 
 Untircd he trudges in his destined round. 
 Nor need the driver crack his horrid lash. 
 
 Yet with small quantities indulge tho stood. 
 Whom skimmings ne'er have fattened ; else, too 
 
 So gluttons use, he '11 cat intempcrato meals, 
 And, staggering, fall tho prey of ravening sharks. 
 
 But say, ye boon companions, in wlmt strains. 
 What grateful strains, shall I record tho praise 
 Of their best produce, heart-recruiting rum?' 
 Thrice wholesome spirit ! wcU-maturcd with ogo. 
 Thrice grateful to tho palate ! when, with thirst, 
 With heat, with labor, and wan caro oppressed, 
 
434 
 
 RURAL POETRY. GRAINGER. 
 
 I quaff thy bowl, where fruit my hands have culled, 
 Round, golden fruit : where water from the spring, 
 Which dripping coolness spreads her umbrage 
 
 round, '' 
 
 With hardest, whitest sugar thrice refined ; 
 Dilates my soul with genuine joy ; low care 
 I spurn indignant ; toil a pleasure seems, [bounds, 
 For not Marne's flowery banks, nor Tille's green 
 Where Ceres with the god of vintage reigns. 
 In happiest union ; not Vigornian hills, 
 Pomona's loved abode, afford to man 
 Goblets more prized, or laudable of taste. 
 To slake parched thirst, and mitigate the clime. 
 
 Yet, 'mid this blest ebriety, some tears 
 For friends I left in Albion's distant isle. 
 For Johnson, Percy, White, escape mine eyes : 
 For her, fair authoress, whom first Calpo's rocks 
 A sportive infant saw ; and whose green years 
 True genius blest with her benignest gifts 
 Of happiest fancy. 0, were ye all here, 
 0, were ye here, with him, my Pteon's son ! 
 Long known, of worth approved, thrice candid soul ! 
 How would your converse charm the lonely hour ! 
 Your converse, where mild wisdom tempers mirth ; 
 And charity, the petulance of wit ; 
 How would your converse polish my rude lays, 
 With what new, noble images adorn ! 
 Then should I scarce regret the banks of Thames, 
 All as we sat beneath that sand-box shade ; 
 Whence the delighted eye expatiates wide 
 O'er the fair landscape, where in loveliest forms 
 Green cultivation hath arrayed the land. 
 
 See there what mills, like giants, raise their arms, 
 To quell the speeding gale ! what smoke ascends 
 From every boiling house ! what structures rise. 
 Neat though not lofty, pervious to the breeze. 
 With galleries, porches, or piazzas, graced ! 
 Nor not delightful are those red-built huts, 
 On yonder hill, that front the rising sun ; 
 With plantains, with bananas, bosomed deep, 
 That flutter in the wind ; where frolic goats 
 Butt the young negroes, while their swarthy sires 
 With ardent gladness wield the bill ; — and hark, 
 The crop is finished, how they rend the sky ! 
 
 Nor beauteous only shows the cultured soil. 
 From this cool station. No less charms the eye 
 That wild, interminable waste of waves : 
 While on the horizon's furthest verge are seen 
 Islands of different shape, and different size ; 
 While sail-clad ships, with their sweet produce 
 
 fraught. 
 Swell on the straining sight ; while near yon rock, 
 On which ten thousand wings with ceaseless clang 
 
 Their eyries build, a water-spout descends. 
 
 And shakes mid ocean ; and while there below 
 
 That town, embowered in the different shade 
 
 Of tamarinds, panspans, and papaws, o'er which 
 
 A double Iris throws her painted arch. 
 
 Shows commerce toiling in each crowded street, 
 
 And each thronged street with limpid currents laved. 
 
 What though no bird of scu;,' lur,- .liaims the 
 With her wild minstrelsy, far, l:ii In yniil [^onse 
 The unnatural quavers of II.-i.. , i:,,, tin. it < 
 Though the chaste poet of tUi; \ uiual ivuodi, 
 That shuns rude folly's din, delight not here 
 The listening eve ; and though no herald-lark 
 Here leave his couch, high-towering to descry 
 The approach of dawn, and hail her with his song : 
 Yet not unmusical the tinkling lapse 
 Of yon cool argent rill, which Phcebus gilds 
 With his first orient rays ; yet musical 
 Those buxom airs that through the plantains play. 
 And tear with wantonness their leafy scrolls ; 
 Yet not unmusical the waves' hoarse sound. 
 That dashes, sullen, on the distant shore ; 
 Yet musical those little insects' hum. 
 That hover round us, and to Reason's ear 
 Deep moral truths convey ; while every beam 
 Flings on them transient tints, which vary when 
 They wave their purple plumes ; yet musical 
 The love-lorn cooing of the mountain-dove, 
 That woos to pleasing thoughtfulness the soul ; 
 But chief the breeze, that murmurs through yon 
 Enchants the ear with tunable delight. [canes, 
 
 THE CREOLES DRGED TO LrVE ON THEIR PLANTATIONS. 
 
 While such fair scenes adorn these blissful isles, 
 AThy will their sons, ungrateful, roam abroad ? 
 Why spend their opulence in other climes ? 
 
 Say, is preeminence your partial aim ? — 
 Distinction courts you here ; the senate calls. 
 Here crouching slaves attendant wait your nod : 
 '\Vhile there, unnoted, but for folly's garb. 
 For folly's jargon, your dull hours ye pass, 
 Eclipsed by titles and superior wealth. 
 
 MARTIAL GLORY AND PATRIOTISM SHODLD PREVENT ABSENT- 
 
 Does martial ardor fire your generous veins ? 
 Fly to your native isles : Bellona there 
 Hath long time reared her bloody flag ; these isles 
 Your strenuous arms demand ; for ye are brave ! 
 No longer to the lute and tabor's sound 
 Weave antic measures. 0, could my weak song — 
 0, could my song, like his, heaven-favored bard. 
 Who led desponding Sparta's oft-beat hosts 
 To victory, to glory — fire your souls 
 With English ardor ! for now England's swains 
 (The man of Norfolk, swains of England, thank). 
 All emulous, to Freedom's standard fly. 
 And drive invasion from their native shore : 
 How would my soul exult with conscious pride, 
 Nor grudge those wreaths Tyrta;us gained of yore ! 
 
WINTEa — DECEMBER. 
 
 435 
 
 LCXLRlia OF THS TEST ISDIia J PISS-APPLB, TOBTLH, JKW- 
 Fisn, CBllM, MCTTOX, WISKS, OASB. 
 
 Or, aro yo fond of rich luxurious cates ^ — 
 Con aught in Europe emulate the pine, 
 Or fruit forbidden, native of your isles ? 
 Sons of Apioius, say, can Europe's seas, 
 Can aught the edible creation yields. 
 Compare with turtle, boast of land and wave ? 
 Can Europe's seos, in all their finny realms, 
 Aught so delicious as the Jew-fish show? 
 Tell mo what viands, land or streams produce, 
 The large, black, female moulting crab excel ! 
 A richer flavor not wild Cambria's hills, Isprcad, 
 Nor Scotia's rocks, with heath and thyme o'er- 
 Givo to their flocks, than, lone Barduda, you, 
 Than you, Anguilln, to your sheep impart. 
 Even Britain's vintage here, improved, wo tiuaff j 
 Even Lusitanian, even Hesperian wines. 
 Those from the Khine's imperial banks (poor Rhino ! 
 How have thy banks been dyed with brother-blood ! 
 Unnatural warfare !) strength and flavor gain 
 In this delicious clime. Besides, the cane, 
 Wafted to every quarter of the globe. 
 Makes the vast produce of tho world your own. 
 
 ABGCMKNTS AGAINST ABSENTBEISM DRAWN FRO.U THE LOVE OF 
 XATUKE , GBANDECR OF NATURE IS THE WEST INDIES. 
 
 Or, rather, doth the love of nature charm, 
 Its mighty love your chief attention claim, 
 Leave Europe ; there, through all her coyest ways, 
 Her secret mazes, nature is pursued ; 
 But hero, with savage loneliness, she reigns 
 On yonder peak, whence giddy fancy looks, 
 Affrighted, on the laboring main below. 
 Heavens ! what stupendous, what unnumbered trees, 
 < Stage above stage, in vorious verdure drest,' 
 Unprofitable shag its airy cliffs ! [bloom. 
 
 Heavens ! what now shrubs, what herbs, with useless 
 Adorn its channelled sides ; and, in its caves, 
 AVhat sulphurs, ores, what earth and stones, abound ! 
 There let Philosophy conduct thy steps, 
 ' For naught is useless made : ' with candid search. 
 Examine oil the properties of things ; 
 Immense discoveries soon will crown your toil. 
 Your time will soon repay. 
 
 THE ACTDOR'S aspirations TO BE USEFUL. 
 
 Ah ! when will cares, 
 Tho cares of fortune, less my minutes claim ? 
 Then, with what joy, what energy of soul, 
 Will I not climb yon mountain's airiest brow ! 
 The dawn, the burning noon, the setting sun, 
 The midnight hour, shall hear my constant vows 
 To Nature, see mo prostrate at her shrine ! 
 And, 0, if haply I may aught invent 
 Of use to mortal man, life to prolong, 
 To soften, or adorn, what genuine joy. 
 What exultation of supreme delight, 
 Will swell my raptured bosom ! Then, when death 
 Shall call mo hence, I 'II unrepining go ; 
 
 filter for the house anil Irailcs than for the field. The 
 Qolil-coast, but especially llie l'ap»w-ncf[rooi, make the 
 Iwst llckl-ncgrocs : but even lUcsc, If advanced In yenm, 
 should not be purchnsed. The marks of a sound negro 
 Where the men do nothing but hunt, 
 I nil ncld drudgery Is left to the women, 
 
 The MInnnhs 
 
 The Miin- 
 
 and the CoiiRo* 
 
 How 
 
 rt. NaT'».-9 
 
 should be habituated by gentle degrees to tklil luli.ji-. 
 This labor, when compared to that In lead-mines, it of 
 those who work In the gold ami silver mines in Soutli 
 
 vy conquerors t 
 
 ■ storied ton 
 
 1 not a stone point out my humble grave. 
 
 Negroes should always be treated with huiniinlty. Praise 
 of freodom. Of the dnicunculus, or dragon-worm. Of 
 chigrfs. Of the yaws. Might not this diseasie be Im- 
 piirted liy inoeuliitii>n ! Of worms, and tliclr multiform 
 npiiiuraiicc. Praise of commerce. Of the lumcinary 
 disorders of negroes, especially those caused by their on- 
 Jurcrs, or Oblameo The composition and supposed virtues 
 of a magic phial. Field-negroes should not begin to work 
 before six in the morning, and should leave oft between 
 eleven and twelve : and, beginning again at two, should 
 finish before sunset. Of the weekly aUowance of negroes. 
 The young, the old, the siclcly, and even the lazy, must 
 have their victuals prepared for them. Of negro ground, 
 and its various productions. To be fenced In, and 
 watclied. Of an American garden. Of the situntlon of 
 negro-huts. Uow best defended from Hre. The great 
 negro-dance descrlbe<l. Drumming and intoxicating spirits 
 not lo l)e allowed. Negroes should be made to marry 
 in t)ieir master's plantation. Inconveniences arising 
 from the contrary practice. Negroes to be clollieil once 
 a year, and before Christmas. Praise of Louis XIV. for 
 the Code Noir. A body of laws of this kind recommended 
 to the Knglish sugar colonies. Praise of the river Thames. 
 A moonlight landscai>e and vision. 
 
 rUK NEGRO RACE ; ITS VARIETIES, AND THEIR QUALITIE.* AND 
 TREATMENT. — AFRICA APOSTROPUIZKD. 
 
 Genius of Afric ! whether thou bcstrid'st 
 The castled elephant ; or at tho source 
 (While howls tho desert fearfully around) 
 Of thine own Niger sadly thuu reclin'st 
 Thy temples shaded li.v iln ii imil n |;ilin, 
 Or quick papaw, wini-i' i > i ' . i I i^-und 
 
 With numerous rows ■! . ni : 
 
 Or hoar'st thou rather Iniii ii,i r ,_. I.inl>s 
 
 Of Uio Grande, or black Senaga, 
 
 Where dauntless thou tho headlong torrent brav'st 
 
 In search of gold, to breed thy woolly locks. 
 
 Or with bright ringlets ornament thino ears. 
 
 Thine arms, and ankles : 0, attend my song ! 
 
 A muse that pities thy distressful state. 
 
 Who sees with grief thy sons in fetters bouud. 
 
 Who wishes freedom to tho race of man. 
 
 Thy nod osscnting craves : dread Genius, come ! 
 
 Yet vain thy presence, vain thy favoring nod, 
 Unless once more tho muses, that ercwhilo 
 Upheld mo fainting in my past career 
 Through Caribbo's cano-islcs, kindly condescend 
 To guide my footsteps through parched Libya's 
 
 wilds. 
 And bind my sunburnt brow with other bays 
 Than over decked tho Sylvan bard before. 
 
 DEDICATION TO GENERAL MELVIL. 
 
 Say, will my Melvil from tho public care 
 Withdraw one moment to tho muses shrine 7 
 
RURAL POETRY. GRAINGER. 
 
 Who, smit with thy fair fame, industrious cull 
 
 An Indian wreath to mingle with thy bays. 
 
 And del; thv h.io and the scholar's brow ! 
 
 AVilt thnti. whoM' hiildiiL'ss smooths the face of wa 
 
 Whi. Y'lwr.'l the \ I>l i.r-ldade the myrtle twin'st. 
 
 And iii:ik'-i Hil |. ■■! iMii l.iyal and sincere ; 
 
 0, will tlpn -1.1. 1 -IK hoar the unartful strain, 
 
 A\'hn.->' iiiiM ill-till, liiiii.s teach, no trivial theme, 
 
 Whiit i:ii. III... ji tty African requires? 
 
 Yes, thou wilt deiyn to hear ; a man thou art 
 
 Who deem'st naught foreign that belongs to man. 
 
 In mind and aptitude for useful toil, 
 The negroes differ : iMuse, that difference sing. 
 
 Whether to wield the hoe or guide the plane. 
 Or for domestic uses, thou intend'st 
 The sunny Libyan, from what clime they spring 
 It not imports, if strength and youth he theirs. 
 
 I'et those from Congo's wide-extended plains. 
 Through which the long Zaire winds with crystal 
 
 stream, 
 Where lavish Nature sends indulgent forth 
 Fruits of high flavor, and spontaneous seeds 
 Of bland nutritious quality, ill bear 
 The toilsome field ; but boast a docile mind. 
 And happiness of features. These, with care. 
 Be taught each nice mechanic art, or trained 
 To household oflBoes ; their ductile souls 
 Will all thy care and all thy gold repay. 
 
 1 Their thighs and legs in just proportion rise. 
 I Such soon will brave tlje fervors of the clime ; 
 
 And, free from ails that kill thy negro-train, 
 I A useful servitude will long support. 
 
 But, if the labors of the field demand 
 Thy chief attention ; and the ambrosial cane 
 Thou long'st to see, with spiry frequence, shade 
 Many an acre : planter, choose the slave 
 Who sails from barren climes, where want alone, 
 Offspring of rude necessity, compels 
 The sturdy native, or to plant the soil. 
 Or stem vast rivers for his daily food. 
 
 Such are the children of the Golden Coast ; 
 Such the Papaws, of negroes far the best ; 
 And such the numerous tribes that skirt the shore, 
 From rapid Volta to the distant Rey. 
 
 But, planter, from what coast soe'er they sail. 
 Buy not the old : they ever sullen prove ; 
 With heartfelt anguish they lament their home ; 
 They will not, cannot work ; they never learn 
 Thy native language ; they are prone to ails j 
 And oft by suicide their being end. 
 
 MARKS Br WmCH TO BOY .NEGROES. 
 
 Must thou from Afric reinforce thy gang ? — 
 Let health and youth their every sinew firm ; 
 Clear roll their ample eye ; their tongue be red ; 
 Broad swell their chest ; their shoulders wide 
 
 Not prominent their belly ; clean and strong 
 
 IBEBTY-LOVER, DANGEROUS. 
 
 Yet, if thine own, thy children's life be dear. 
 Buy not a Cormantee, though healthy, young. 
 Of breed too generous for the servile field, 
 I They, born to freedom in their native land, 
 I Choose death before dishonorable bonds : 
 Or, fired with vengeance, at the midnight hour. 
 Sudden they seize thine unsuspecting watch. 
 And thine own poniard bury in thy breast. 
 
 At home the men in many a sylvan realm 
 Their rank tobacco, charm of sauntering miuds. 
 From clayey tubes inhale ; or, vacant, beat 
 For prey the furesi ; or in wai-'s dread ranks 
 
 Their ciiuiiin i... - :,!i,..„t: while in the field 
 
 Their wi\. i.i i .\ains, or lofty maize. 
 
 Fell hull,:;. I 1 1 ,. ;. i:. i lii..ie thy choice : 
 They, haidy, h.iL the hiburs of the cane 
 Soon grow familiar ; while unusual toil, 
 And new severities, their husbands kill. 
 
 The slaves from Minnah are of stubborn breed ; 
 But, when the bill or hammer they affect. 
 They soon perfection reach. But fly, with care. 
 The Moeo-nation ; they themselves destroy. 
 
 :B CaARACTERISTICS. 
 
 Worms lurk in all : yet proncit they to worms 
 Who from Mundingo sail. AVhen therefore such 
 Thou huyst, for sturdy and laborious they. 
 Straight let some learned leech strong medicines 
 'i ill I1...1I anil rliniato both familiar grow. [give, 
 Tim--, ilii.ii^li iiLin rise to set in Phcebus' eye 
 Tiii'v ti.il inii.ia>ing, yet at night they'll sleep 
 Lapped in Elysium, and each day at dawn 
 Spring from their couch as blithesome as the sun. 
 
 QUALITIES OF THE QCASZi NEGROES. 
 
 One precept more it much imports to know. — 
 The blacks who drink the Quanza's lucid stream, 
 Fed by ten thousand springs, are prone to bloat, 
 Whether at home or in these ocean isles : 
 And though nice art the water may subdue. 
 Yet many die, and few for many a year 
 Just strength attain to labor for their lord. 
 
 now TO KEEP NEGROES IS HEALTH -, SEASOSISO. 
 
 Wouldst thou secure thine Ethiop from those ails 
 Which change of climate, change of waters breed. 
 And food unusual ? let Machaon draw 
 From each some blood, as age and sex require ; 
 And well with vervain, well with sempre-vive. 
 Unload their bowels. These in every hedge 
 Spontaneous grow. Nor will it not conduce 
 To give what chemists, in mysterious phrase, 
 
Term tho white coglo ; deadly foo to worms. 
 
 But chief do thou, my friend, with hearty food, 
 
 Yi't easy of digestion, likost thnt 
 
 Which they at homo regaled on, renovate 
 
 Their sea-worn appetites. Let gentle work. 
 
 Or rather playful exercise, oniuse 
 
 The novel gang : and far bo angry words, 
 
 Far ponderous chains, and far disheartening blows. 
 
 From fruita restrain their eagerness ; yet if 
 The acajou, haply, in thy garden bloom, 
 With chLrrios, or of white or purple hue, 
 ThiitL' whulisuino fruit in this relaxing clime ! 
 SiilVly thou iiiu_v'.-t their appetite indulge. 
 Thtir arid skins will plump, their features shine : 
 No rheums, no dysenteric ails, torment ; 
 The thirsty hydrops flies. 'T is even averred 
 (.Vh, did experience sanctify the fact. 
 How many Libyans now would dig tho soil, 
 Who pine in hourly agonies away !) 
 This pleasing fruit, if turtle joins its aid. 
 Removes that worst of ails, disgrace of art, 
 The loathsome leprosy's infectious bane. 
 
 DIRT-EATING NECBOKS. 
 
 There are, the Muse hath oft abhorrent seen, 
 Who swallow dirt (so the chlorotic fair 
 Oft chalk pvof.T to tho most poignant cates); 
 Such dropsy bloats, and to sure death consigns. 
 Unless restrained from this unwholesome food. 
 By soothing words, by menaces, by blows : 
 Nor yet will threats, or blows, or soothing words. 
 Perfect their cure, unless thou, Paean, dcign*st 
 By medicine's power their cravings to subdue. 
 
 trious search, 
 
 Let t 
 
 I lit I 
 
 For thy kcen-stoij;:i i,i I i-- -. i . i:ut when tho earth 
 Hath made her annual pro^^r'-'ss r-nind tho sun. 
 What time the conch or bell resounds, they may 
 All to tho cane-ground with thy gang repair. 
 
 Nor, negro, at thy destiny repine, 
 Though doomed t" i..il iron, ,1n«o to setting sun. 
 Uow far more jl' ' ' i*k 
 
 Than theirs wlo 1 1 < m tho day. 
 
 In dark Tartan ;i 1 1 I . ncath 
 
 The earth's dark surface; wli.re sulphureous flames. 
 Oft from their vapory prisons bursting wild. 
 To dire explosion give tho caverned deep. 
 And in dread ruin all its inmates whelm ! 
 Nor fateful only is the bursting flame ; 
 The exhalations of tho deep-dug mine, 
 Though slow, shako from their wings as sure a death. 
 With what intense severity of pain 
 Hath the aflaiotcd Muse, in Scotia, seen 
 Tho miners racked, who toil for fatal lead ! 
 
 487 
 
 What cramps, what palsies, shako their feeble limbs 
 
 Who on the margin of tho rooky Dravo 
 
 Trace silver's fluent oro ! — Yet white men these ! 
 
 THE .negro's lot COMPARKD WITn THAT OP THB ENSLAVKU 
 PEUCVIAS, CTC. 
 
 How far more happy ye than those poor slaves. 
 Who, whilom under native gracious chiefs, 
 Inca«, and emperors, long time enjoyed 
 Mild government, with every sweet of lifo. 
 In blissful climates ! See them dragged in chains. 
 By proud insulting tyrants, to the mines 
 Which once they called their own, and then despised! 
 See, in the mineral bosom of their land. 
 How hard they toil ! how soon their youthful limbs 
 Feel the decrepitude of age ! how soon 
 Their teeth desert their sockets ! and how soon 
 Shaking paralysis unstrings their frame ! 
 Yet scarce oven then are they allowed to view 
 The glorious god of day, of whom they beg. 
 With earnest hourly supplications, death ; 
 Y^et death slow comes to torture them the more ! 
 
 SLAVES IROED TO BE HAPPT. 
 
 W'ith these compared, ye sons of Afrio, say, 
 How far more happy is your lot ! Bland health, 
 Of ardent eye, and limb robust, attends 
 Y'our customed labor ; and, should sickness seize. 
 With what solicitude aro ye not nursed ! 
 Ye negroes, then, your pleasing task pursue. 
 And by your toil deserve your master's care. 
 
 now TO MASAOE SLAVES. 
 
 When first your blacks aro novel to the hoe. 
 Study their humors : some soft-soothing words, 
 Some presents, and some menaces subdue ; 
 And some I 've known, so stubborn in their kind, 
 Whom blows, alas ! could win alone to toil. 
 
 Y'et, planter, let humanity prevail. 
 Perhaps thy negro, in his native laud. 
 Possessed large fertile plains, and slaves, and herds: 
 Perhaps, whene'er he deigned to walk abroad, 
 The richest silks, from where the Indus rolls. 
 His limbs invested in their gorgeous plaits : 
 Perhaps he wails his wife, his children, left 
 To struggle with adversity : perhaps 
 Fortune, in battle for his country fought. 
 Gave him a captive to his deadliest foo : 
 Perhaps, incautious, in his native fields 
 (On pleasurable scenes his mind intent). 
 All as he wandered, from tho neighboring grove 
 Fell ambush dragged him to the hated main. 
 Were they even sold for crimes, ye polished, say, 
 Y'e to whom learning opes her amplest page, 
 Y'e whom tho knowledge of a living God 
 Should lead to virtue, are ye free from crimes ? 
 Ah, pity, then, these uninstructed swains ; 
 And still let mercy soften the decrees 
 Of rigid Justice, with her lenient hand. 
 
438 
 
 ETJRAL POETRY. — GRAINGER. 
 
 0, did the tender Muse possess the power 
 Which monarchs have, and munarchs oft abuse, 
 'T would be the fond ambition of her soul 
 To quell tyrannic sway ; knock off the chains 
 Of heart-debasing slavery ; give to man, 
 Of every color and of every clime, 
 Freedom, which stamps him image of his God. 
 Then laws, oppression's scourge, fair virtue's prop. 
 Offspring of wisdom, should impartial reign. 
 To knit the whole in well-accorded strife : 
 Servants, not slaves ; of choice, and not compelled ; 
 The blacks should cultivate the cane-land isles. 
 
 Say, shall the muse the various ills recount 
 "Which negro-nations feel ? Shall she describe 
 The worm that subtle winds into their flesh. 
 All as they bathe them in their native streams? 
 There, with fell increment, it soon attains 
 A direful length of harm. Yet, if due skill 
 And proper circumspection are employed. 
 It may be won its volumes to wind round 
 A leaden cylinder : but, 0, beware. 
 No rashness practise ; else 't will surely snap, 
 And, suddenly retreating, dire produce 
 An annual lameness to the tortured Moor. 
 
 Nor only is the dragon-worm to dread : 
 Fell winged insects, which the visual ray 
 Scarcely discerns, their sable feet and hands 
 Oft penetrate, and in the fleshy nest 
 Myriads of young produce ; which soon destroy 
 The parts they breed in, if assiduous care. 
 With art, extract not the prolific foe. 
 
 Or shall she sing, and not debase her lay, 
 The pest peculiar to the Ethiop kind. 
 The yaw's infectious bane ? The infected far 
 In huts to leeward lodge, or near the main. 
 With heartening food, with turtle, and with conchs. 
 The flowers of sulphur, and hard niccars burnt. 
 The lurking evil from the blood expel. 
 And throw it on the surface : there in spots 
 Which cause no pain, and scanty ichor yield. 
 It chiefly breaks about the arms and hips, 
 
 A virulent contagion ! When no more 
 
 Round knobby spots deform, but the disease 
 Seems at a pause, then let the learned leech 
 Give, in due dose, live-silver from the mine. 
 Till copious spitting the whole taint exhaust. 
 Nor thou repine, though half-way round the sun 
 This globe her annual progress shall revolve. 
 Ere cleared thy slave from all infection shine. 
 Nor then bo confident ; successive crops 
 Of defecations oft will spot the skin : 
 Theso thou, with turpentine and guaiac pods. 
 Reduced by coction to a wholesome draught, 
 Total remove, and give the blood its balm. 
 
 Say, as this malady but once infects 
 The sons of Guinea, might not skill engraft 
 (Thus the small-pox are happily conveyed) 
 This ailment early to thy negro-train ? 
 
 Yet, of the ills which torture Libya's sons, 
 Worms tyrannize the worst. They, Proteus-like, 
 Each symptom of each malady assume. 
 And under every mask the assassins kill. 
 Now, in the guise of horrid spasms, they writhe 
 The tortured body, and all sense o'erpower. 
 Sometimes, like Mania, with her head down-cast. 
 They cause the wretch in solitude to pine. 
 Or, frantic, bursting from the strongest chains. 
 To frown with look terrific, not his own. 
 Sometimes like ague, with a shivering mien. 
 The teeth gnash fearful, and the blood runs chill ; 
 Anon the ferment maddens in the veins. 
 And a false vigor animates the frame. 
 Again, the dropsy's bloated mask they steal, 
 Or 'melt with minings of the hectic fire.' 
 
 REMEDIES FOR ' WORMS ; ' COW-ITCH, WORM-GRASS, TIS ; 
 THE TTRIiNS. 
 
 Say, to such various forms of mimic death, 
 What remedies shall puzzled art oppose ? 
 Thanks to the Almighty, in each pathway hedge 
 Rank cow-itch grows, whose sharp unnumbered 
 
 stings. 
 Sheathed in melasses, from their dens expel. 
 Fell dens of death, the reptile lurking foe. 
 A powerful vermifuge, in skilful hands. 
 The worm-grass proves; yet even in hands of skill. 
 Sudden, I 've known it dim the visual ray 
 For a whole day and night. There are who use 
 (And sage experience justifies the use) 
 The mineral product of the Cornish mine ; 
 Which in old times, ere Britain laws enjoyed, 
 The polished Tyrians, monarchs of the main. 
 In their swift ships conveyed to foreign realms : 
 The sun by day, by night the northern star, 
 Their course conducted. 
 
 COMMERCE ; ITS EFFECTS ON PEOPLES ; ISorsTKY. 
 
 Mighty Commerce, hail ! 
 By thee the sons of Attic's sterile land, 
 A scanty number, laws imposed on Greece. 
 Nor awed they Greece alone; vast Asia's king, 
 Though girt by rich-armed myriads, at their frown 
 Felt his heart wither on his furthest throne. 
 Perennial source of population thou ! 
 While scanty peasants plough the flowery plains 
 Of purple Enna, from the Belgian fens 
 What swarms of useful citizens spring up, 
 Hatched by thy fostering wing ! Ah, where is flown 
 That dauntless free-born spirit, which of old 
 Taught them to shako off the tyrannic yoke 
 Of Spain's insulting king, on whose wide realms 
 The sun still shone with undiminished beam ? 
 Parent of wealth ! in vain coy nature hoards 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 ]Ior gold and diamonda ; toil, th; firm compeer, 
 
 And industry of unremitting ncrvo, 
 
 Scale tho cleft mountain, tlio loud torrent bravo, 
 
 Plunge to tho centre, and througli Nature's wiles 
 
 (Led on by skill of penetrative soul), 
 
 Her following close, her secret treasure find, 
 
 To pour them plenteous on the laughing world. 
 
 On thee, Sylvanus, thee each rural god. 
 
 On thee, chief Cores, with unfailing lovo 
 
 And fond distinction, omulously gaze. 
 
 CTILITT ASD TBUMPlia OV COUMKBCB ; GREAT BIUTAIX J 
 COLCMBfS ; PORTUGAL. 
 
 In vain hath nature poured vast seas between 
 Far-distant kingdoms ; endless storms in vain 
 AVith double night brood o'er them ; thou dost throw 
 O'er far-divided JTature's realms a chain 
 To bind in sweet society mankind. 
 By thco white Albion, once a barbarous climo. 
 Grew famed for arms, for wisdom, and for laws ; 
 By thee she holds the balance of the world, 
 Acknowledged now sole empress of tho main. 
 Coy though thou art, and nmtable of lovo, 
 There mayst thou ever fi.\ thy wandering steps, 
 While Eurus rules the wide Atlantic foam ! 
 By thee thy favorite great Columbus found 
 That world, where now thy praises I rehearse 
 To the resounding main and palmy shore ; 
 And Lusitania's chiefs those realms explored. 
 Whence negroes spring, tho subject of my song. 
 
 NEGRO SfPEBSTlTlO.NS 5 TUE DEWITCOED. 
 
 They likewise feel imaginary woes, 
 
 Woes no less deadly. Luckless he who owns 
 
 The slave who thinks himself bewitched ; and whom, 
 
 In wrath, a conjurer's snake-marked staff hath 
 
 struck ! 
 They mope, love silence, every friend avoid ; 
 They inly pine, all aliment reject, 
 Or insufiieient for nutrition take ; 
 Their features droop ; a sickly yellowish hue 
 Their skin deforms ; their strength and beauty fly. 
 Then comes the feverish fiend, with fiery eyes, 
 Whom drought, convulsions, and whom death sur- 
 Fatal attendants ! if some subtle slave [round, 
 
 (Such Obia-mcn are styled) do not engage 
 To save tho wretch by antidote or spell. 
 
 In magic spells in Obia all tho sons 
 Of sable Afric trust : — Ye sacred Nino 
 (For yo each hidden preparation know), 
 I Transpierce tho gloom, which ignorance and fraud 
 Have rendered awful ; tell the laughing world 
 Of what these wonder-working charms are made. 
 
 Fern-root cut small, and lied with many a knot ; 
 Old teeth extracted from a white man's skull ; 
 A lizard's skeleton ; a serpent's head ; 
 These, mixed with salt and water from the spring, 
 
 Are in a phial poured ; o'er these the leech 
 Mutters strange jargon, and wild circles forms. 
 
 AGAINST DEMONS AND THIEVES. 
 
 Of this possessed, each negro deems himself 
 Secure from poison ; for to poison they 
 Aro infamously prone : and, armed with this. 
 Their sable country demons they defy, 
 Wlio fearful hnunt them at the midnight hour, 
 To work them mischief. This diseases fly, 
 IJiseases follow, such its wondrous power ! 
 This o'er the threshold of their cottage hung, 
 No thieves break in ; or, if they dare to steal. 
 Their feet in blotches, which admit no euro. 
 Burst loathsome out : but should its owner filch. 
 As slaves were ever of tho pilfering kind, 
 This from detection screens ; so conjurers swear. 
 
 Till morning dawn, and Lucifer withdraw 
 His beamy chariot, let not the loud bell 
 Call forth thy negroes from tho rushy couch : 
 And ore the sun with mid-day fervor glow, 
 When every broom-bush opes her yclluw flow 
 Let thy black laborers from their tuil desist : 
 Nor till the broom her every petal lock, 
 Let the loud bell recall them to the hoe. 
 But when the jalap her bright tint displays, 
 Whon the solanuni fills her cup with dew, 
 
 With double 1 
 
 ivard their pains. 
 
 KINDNESS CBGED. 
 
 Howo'cr insensate some may deem their slaves. 
 Nor 'bovc the bestial rank, far other thoughts 
 The Muse, soft daughter of humanity, 
 Will over entertain. The Ethiop knows, 
 Tho Ethiop feels, when treated like a man ; 
 Nor grudges, should necessity compel, 
 By day, by night, to labor for his lord. 
 
 GOOD FEEDING RECOMMENDED ; BEANS, RICE, PLOnB, COD, 
 UERKINGS. 
 
 Not less inhuman than unthrifty those 
 Who half tho year's rotation round the sun 
 Deny subsistence to their laboring slaves. 
 But wouldst thou see thy negro-train increase. 
 Free from disorders, and thine acres clad 
 AVith groves of sugar, every week dispense 
 Or English beans, or Carolinian rice ; 
 lerne's beef, or Pennsylvanian flour ; 
 Newfoundland cod, or herrings from the main 
 That howls tempestuous round the Scotinn isles. 
 
 Yet some there arc so lazily inclined, 
 And so neglectful of their food, that thou, 
 Wouldst thou preserve them from the jaws of death, 
 Daily their wholesome viands must prepare : 
 With these let all the young, and childless old, 
 
RURAL POETRY, — GRAINGER. 
 
 And all the morbid sbare ; — so heaven will I 
 With manifold increase, thy costly care. 
 
 Suffice not this ; to every slave assign 
 Some mountain ground ; or, if waste broken land 
 To thee belong, that broken land divide. 
 This let them cultivate, one day each week ; 
 And there raise yams, and there cassada's root : 
 From a good demon's staff cassada sprang, 
 Tradition sarp, and Caribbees believe : 
 ■\ThIIi iiifi- iliirr ilir uhite-robed genius broke, 
 Aii'l :, their hunger to repel. 
 
 Tiiri 1 [iMiny bush supply, 
 
 Fnr ni:iiiy :i _\ > (1, x*. ith wholesome pulse their board. 
 There let the buuavist his fringed pods 
 Throw liberal o'er the prop ; while ochra bears 
 Aloft his slimy pulp, and help disdains. 
 There let potatoes mantle o'er the ground ; 
 Sweet as the cane-juice is the root they bear. 
 There too let eddas spring in order meet, 
 With Indian cale, and foodful calaloo : 
 While mint, thyme, balm, and Europe's coyer herbs, 
 Shoot gladsome forth, nor reprobate the clime. 
 
 This tract secure with hedges or of limes, 
 Or bushy citrons, or the shapely tiee 
 That glows at once with aromatic blooms, 
 And golden fruit mature. To these be joined, 
 In comely neighborhood, the cotton shrub ; 
 In this delicious clime the cotton bursts 
 On rocky soils. The coffee also plant ; 
 White as the skin of Albion's lovely fair 
 Are the thick snowy fragrant blooms it boasts : 
 Nor wilt thou, coco, thy rich pods refuse ; 
 Though years, and heat, and moisture, they require, 
 Ere the stone grind them to the food of health. 
 Of thee, perhaps, and of thy various sorts, 
 And that kind ^hrltcrin-' trrc, tliy mother named. 
 With crimson l^.^^■M.l^ ],r."li 'Mily graced. 
 In future tiini^n the . iiiap[ui. .1 .Muse may sing, 
 If public favor crown her present lay. 
 
 But let some ancient, faithful slave erect 
 Ili.s sheltered mansion m-Av. ami uitli hi-^ dog, 
 His loaded gun, and entl:i", -^w-.w] ilir\\holo: 
 Else negro-fugitives. \^\\u -\ ,iil, nul i ■■ i,^ 
 And shrubby wilds, in lianl- will -inii ih'>troy 
 Thy laborer's honest wealth, their loss and yours. 
 
 Bfynii-l wlial M.-MMinl nil Mr-i IMutacia's Islo, 
 Or Ku.-triii riin,,.- .i'liiiin ■! ill ilay-^ of yoro : 
 lluw Kuiopo.. luudlul, culin.tiy plants, 
 How gay Pomona's ruby-tinctured births, 
 And gaudy Flora's various-vested train. 
 
 Might be instructed to unlearn their clime. 
 
 And by due discipline adopt the sun. 
 
 The Muse might tell what culture will entice 
 
 The ripened melon to perfume each month ; 
 
 And with the anrfna load the fragrant board. 
 
 The Muse might tell what trees will best exclude 
 
 (' Insuperable height of airiest shade *) 
 
 With their vast umbrage the noon's fervent ray. 
 
 Thee, verdant mammey, first, her song should 
 
 Thee, the first native of these oeean-isles, 
 Fell anthropophagi, still sacred held ; 
 And from thy large high-flavored fruit abstained, 
 With pious awe ; for thine high-flavored fruit 
 The airy phantoms of their friends deceased 
 Joyed to regale on. Such their simple creed. 
 The tamarind likewise should adorn her theme, 
 With whose tart fruit the sweltering fever loves 
 To quench his thirst, whose breezy umbrage soon 
 Shades the pleased planter, shades his children long. 
 Nor, lofty cassia, should she not recount 
 Thy woodland honors ! Sec, what yellow flowers 
 Dance in the gale, and scent the ambient air : 
 While thy long pods, full fraught with nectared 
 
 Relieve the bowels from their lagging load. 
 
 THE CHIRUIOIA-TREE } THE PALMETTO } THE INDIAN FIG ', 
 
 Nor, chirimoia, though these torrid isles 
 Boast not thy fruit, to which the anana yields 
 In taste and flavor, wilt thou coy refuse 
 
 i Thy fragrant shade to beautify the scene. 
 
 I But, chief of palms and pride of Indian groves, 
 
 j Thee, fair palmetto, should her song resound : 
 What swelling columns, formed by Jones or Wren, 
 
 I Or great Palladio, may with thee compare ? 
 
 Swells the wild fig-tree, and should claim her lay : 
 
 For, from its numerous bearded twigs proceed 
 
 A filial train, stupendous as their sire. 
 
 In quick succession ; and o'er many a rood. 
 
 Extend their uncouth limbs ; which not the bolt 
 
 Of heaven can scathe ; nor yet the all-wasting rage 
 
 Of typhon or of hurricane destroy. 
 
 Nor should, though small, the anata not be sung : 
 
 Thy purple dye the silk and cotton fleece 
 
 Delighted drink ; thy purple dye the tribes 
 
 Of Northcrn-Ind, a fierce and wily race, 
 
 Carouse, assembled ; and with it they paint 
 
 Their manly make in many a horrid form. 
 
 To add new terrors to the face of war. 
 
 ALCOVES } GARDEU STREAMS } FOUNTAINS. 
 
 The Muse might teach to twine the verdant arch. 
 And the cool alcove's lofty roof adorn, 
 With ponderous granadillas, and the fruit 
 Called water-lemon, grateful to the taste : 
 Nor should she not pursue the mountain-streams, 
 
WINTER — DECEMBER. 
 
 441 
 
 r.ut picttsod decoy them from Ihoir shady haunts, 
 
 III rills to visit ovory troo and herb ; 
 
 Or full o'er lorn-clttd oliffs with fonming rago ; 
 
 Or in huge basuna lloat, a fair expanse j 
 
 Or, bound in chains of artificial fort;o. 
 
 Arise through sculptured stone, or breathing brass. 
 
 But I 'ra in haste to furl my wind-worn sails. 
 
 And anchor my tired vessel on the shore. 
 
 now TO BnLD SBUBO-IU-TS ; TllBin sniDE AXD KRnT-T»l!ES; 
 coco, B.VY.CKArK, .ISO MIl.LKT, KOR TUB SKA-SIDK J BA.VA- 
 SAS ASD PLA.NTA1SS FOR THII tll'LAND i A STKUU. 
 
 It much imports to build thy negro-huts 
 Or on the sounding margin of the main, 
 Or on some dry hill's gently-sloping sides, 
 In streets at distance due. When near the beach. 
 Let frequent coco cast its wavy shade ; 
 'T is Neptune's tree, and, nourished by the spray. 
 Soon round the bending stem's aerial height 
 Clusters of mighty nuts, with milk and fruit 
 Delicious fraught, hang clustering in the sky. 
 There let the bay-grape, too, its crooked limbs 
 Project enormous ; of impurpled hue 
 Its frequent clusters glow. And there, if thou 
 Wouldst make the sand yield salutary food, 
 Let Indian millet rear its corny reed. 
 Like armed battalions in array of war. 
 But round the upland huts bananas plant ; 
 A wholesome nutriment bananas yield. 
 And sunburnt labor loves its breezy shade. 
 Their graceful screen let kindred plantains join. 
 And with their broad vans shiver in the breeze ; 
 So flames designed, or by imprudence caught, 
 Shall spread no ruin to the neighboring roof. 
 Yet nor the sounding margin of the main. 
 Nor gently sloping side of breezy hill. 
 Nor streets, at distance due, embowered in trees. 
 Will half the health or half the pleasure yield. 
 Unless some pitying naiad deign to lave. 
 With an unceasing stream, thy thirsty bounds. 
 
 And somblant scorn, resent the ravished bliss. 
 But let not thou the drum their mirth inspire, 
 Nor vinous spirits ; else, to madness fired 
 (What will not bacchanalian frenzy dare ?), 
 Fell acts of blood and vongcanoo they pursue. 
 
 SLAVS UARRIAGES. 
 
 Compel by threats, or win by soothing arts, 
 Tliy slaves to wed their fellow-slaves at homo ; 
 So shall they not their vigorous prime destroy. 
 By distant journeys at untimely hours. 
 When muffled midnight decks her raven hair 
 With the white plumage of the prickly vino. 
 
 SLAVE CLOTIIISO ; WILTSIIIRK WOOIEMS ; SCOTCH LINES. • 
 
 Wouldst thou from countless ails preserve thy 
 To every negro, as the candle-weed [gi^ug, 
 
 Expands his blossoms to the cloudy sky. 
 And moist Aquarius melts in daily showers, 
 A woolly vestment give (this Wiltshire weaves), 
 
 I Warm to repel chill night's unwholesome dews ; 
 While strong coarse linen, from the Scotian loom, 
 
 ! Wards off the fervors of the burning day. 
 
 ASD DANCES ; 
 
 ■ XEORO DANCE. 
 
 On festal days, or when their work is done, 
 Permit thy slaves to lead the choral dance. 
 To the wild banshaw's melancholy sound. 
 Responsive to the sound, head, feet, and frame. 
 Move awkwardly harmonious ; hand in hand 
 Now locked, the gay troop circularly wheels, 
 And frisks and capers with intemperate joy. 
 Halts the vast circle, all clap hands and sing. 
 While those distinguished for their heels and air 
 Bound in the centre, and fontastio twine. 
 Jlcanwhile some stripling from the choral ring 
 Trips forth, and, not ungallantly, bestows 
 On her who nimblest hath the greensward beat. 
 And whose flushed beauties have enthralled his soul, 
 A silver token of his fond applause. 
 Anon they form in ranks ; nor inexpert 
 A thousand tuneful intricacies weave, 
 Shaking their sable limbs ; and oft a kiss 
 Steal from their partners, who, with neck reclined. 
 
 The truly great, though from a hostile clime. 
 The sacred Nino embalm ; then. Muses, chant 
 In grateful numbers Gallic Lewis' praise ; 
 For private murder quelled, for laurelled arts 
 Invented, cherished in his native realm ; 
 For rapine punished, for grim famine fed ; 
 For sly chicane expelled the wrangling bar. 
 And rightful Themis seated on her throne : 
 But, chief for those mild laws his wisdom framed, 
 To guard the Ethiop from tyrannic sway ! 
 
 Did such, in these green isles which Albion 
 claims. 
 Did such obtain, the Muse, at midnight hour. 
 This last brain-racking study had not plied ; 
 But, sunk in slumbers of immortal bliss, 
 To bards had listened on a fancied Thames ! 
 
 APOSTROPHE TO THE THAMFS. 
 
 All hail, old father Thames ! though not from 
 far 
 Tliy springing waters roll, nor countless streams. 
 Of name conspicuous, swell thy watery store ; 
 Though thou, no Plata, to the sea devolve 
 Vast humid offerings, thou art king of streams : 
 Delighted commerce broods upon thy wave. 
 And every quarter of this sea-girt globe 
 To thco due tribute pays ; but chief the world 
 By great Columbus found, where now the Muso 
 Beholds transported flow vast fleecy clouds, 
 Alps piled on Alps romantically high, 
 Which charm the sight with many a pleasing form. 
 The moon in virgin-glory gilds the pole, 
 And tips yon tamarinds, tips yon cane-crowned vale. 
 With fluent silver, while unnumbered stars 
 Gild the vast concave with their lively beams. 
 
442 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — GRAINGER — TUSSER. 
 
 The main; a moving, burnished mirror, shines ; 
 No noise is heard, save when the distant surge 
 With drowsy murmurings breaks upon the shore ! 
 
 Ah me, what thunders roll ! the sky 's on fire ! 
 Now sudden darkness muffles up the pole ! 
 Heavens ! what wild scenes before the affrighted 
 
 Imperfect swim ! — See ! in that flaming scroll 
 Which time unfolds, the future germs bud forth 
 Of mighty empires ! independent realms ! — 
 And must Britannia, Neptune's favorite queen, 
 Protectress of true science, freedom, arts, 
 Must she, ah ! must she to her offspring crouch ? 
 
 Ah, must my Thames, old ocean's favorite son. 
 Resign his trident to barbaric streams, — 
 
 His banks neglected and hia waves unsought, 
 No bards to sing them and no fleets to grace ? — 
 Again the fleecy clouds amuse the eye, 
 And sparkling stars the vast horizon gild, — 
 She shall not crouch, if wisdom guide the helui, 
 AVisdom that bade loud fame, with justest praise, 
 Record her triumphs ; bade the lackeying winds 
 Transport to every quarter of the globe 
 Her winged navies, bade her sceptred sons 
 Of earth acknowledge her preeminence ! — 
 She shall not crouch, if these cane ocean-isles, 
 Isles which on Britain for their all depend, 
 And must forever, still indulgent, share 
 Her fostering smile, and other isles be given 
 From vanquished foes. — And see, another race ! 
 A golden era dazzles my fond sight ! 
 That other race, that longed-for era, hail \ 
 The British George now reigns, the patriot kiug ! 
 Britain shall ever triumph o'er the main. 
 
 Nasser's "Ilccnnlicr's iljusbauiiiM) 
 
 Forgottei 
 Do now 1 
 
 
 When frost will not suffer to iliko and to hedge, 
 Then get thee a heat with thy beetle and wedge ; 
 Once Hallowmas come, and a fire in the hall, 
 Such slivers do well for to lie by the wall. 
 Get grindstone and whetstone for tool that is dull. 
 Or often be letted, and fret belly full : 
 A wheel-barrow also be ready to have. 
 At hand of thy servant, thy compas to save. 
 Give cattle their fodder in plot dry and warm. 
 And count them for mixing, or other like harm : 
 Toung colts with thy wennels together go serve. 
 Lest lurched by others they happen to sterve. 
 The rack is commended for saving of dung. 
 To set as the old cannot mischief the young. 
 In tempest (the wind being northly or east) 
 Warm barth, under hedge, is a succor to beast. 
 The housing of cattle, while Winter doth hold. 
 Is good for all such as are feeble and old : 
 It saveth much compas, and many a sleep, 
 And spareth the pasture for walk of thy sheep. 
 For charges so little much quiet is won. 
 If strongly and handsomely all things be done ; 
 But use to untacklo them once in a day. 
 To rub and to lick them, to drink and to play. 
 Get Trusty to tend them, not lubberly 'Squire, 
 That all the day long hath his nose at the fire : 
 Nor trust unto children poor cattle to feed, 
 But such as be able to help, at a need. 
 
 pease. 
 Then oat-straw and barley, then hay, if ye please : 
 But serve them with hay, while the straw-stove 
 
 last, 
 Then love they no straw, they had rather to fast. * ' 
 
 Good fruit and good plenty doth well in the loft. 
 Then make thee an orchard, and cherish it oft ; 
 For plant or for stock, lay aforehand to cast, 
 j But set or remove it ere Christmas be past. 
 Set one fro another full forty feet wide ; 
 To stand as he stood is a part of his pride. 
 More faier, more worthy of cost to remove, 
 More steady ye set it, more likely to prove. 
 To teach and unteach, in a school is unmeet ; 
 To do and undo, to the purse is unsweet : 
 Then orchard or hop-yard, so trimmed with cost. 
 Should not, through folly, be spoiled and lost. 
 Ere Christmas be passed let horse be let blood. 
 For many a purpose it doth them much good. 
 The day of St. Stephen old fathers did use ; 
 If that do mislike thee, some other day use. 
 Look well to thy horses in stable thou must. 
 That hay be not foisty, nor chaff full of dust ; 
 Nor stone in their provender, feather, nor clots. 
 Nor feed with green pcason, for breeding of hots.*' 
 Go look to thy bees ; if the hive be too light. 
 Set water and honey, with rosemary dight ; 
 Which set in a dish full of sticks in the hive, 
 From danger of famine ye save them alive. * * 
 
l^aKaiis for Hcfcmbcv 
 
 BLOOJIFIELD'S " MARKET-NIGHT." 
 ' WiNiis, howl not so long nnd loud ; 
 
 Nor with your vengeance arm the snow : 
 Bear hence each heavy-loaded cloud, 
 
 And let the twinkling star-beams glow. 
 ' Now, sweeping floods, rush down the slope, 
 Wide scattering ruin. Stars, shine soon ! 
 No other light my love can hope ; 
 
 Midnight will want the joyous moon. 
 • guardian Spirits ! — yo that dwell 
 
 Where woods, and pits, and hollow ways, 
 The lone night traveller's fancy swell 
 With fearful tales of older days, — 
 'Press round him -. — guide his willing steed 
 
 Through darkness, dangers, currents, snows ; 
 Wait where, from sheltering thickets freed, 
 • The dreary heath's rudo whirlwind blows. 
 ' From darkness rushing o'er his way. 
 
 The thorn's white load it bears on high ! 
 Where the short furze all shrouded lay, 
 
 Mounts the dried grass ; — earth's bosom dry. 
 •Then o'er the hill, with furious sweep. 
 
 It rends the elevated tree — 
 Sure-footed beast, thy road thou 'It keep ; 
 
 Nor storm nor darkness startles thee ! 
 '0 blest assurance (trusty steed), 
 
 T" thee the buried road is known ; 
 Homo all tho spur thy footsteps need. 
 
 When loose tho frozen rein is thrown. 
 ' Between the roaring blasts that shako 
 
 Tho naked elder at tho door, 
 Though not one prattler to me speak. 
 
 Their sleeping sighs delight me more. 
 ' Sound is their rest — they little know 
 
 What pain, what cold, their father feds ; 
 But dream, perhaps, they sec him now. 
 
 While each the promised orange peels. 
 ' Would it were so ! the fire burns bright. 
 And on tho warming trencher gleams ; 
 In expectation's raptured sight 
 
 Uow precious his arrival seems ! 
 < I '11 look abroad ! — 't is piercing cold ! — 
 
 Uow the bleak wind assails his breast ! 
 Yet some faint light mine eyes behold : 
 
 The storm is verging o'er the west. 
 ' There shines a star ! — welcome sight ! — 
 Through tho thin vapors bright'ning still ! 
 Yet, 't was beneath tho fairest night 
 The murderer stained yon lonely hill ! 
 
 ■ Mercy, kind Heavon ! such thoughts dispel ! 
 
 No voici-, no footstep, can I hear ! 
 (Where night and silence brooding dwell. 
 
 Spreads thy cold reign, heart-chilling fear.) 
 • Distressing hour ! uncertain fate ! 
 
 mercy, mercy, guide him home ! — 
 Hark ! — then I heard the distant gate, — 
 
 Repeat it, echo ; quickly, come ! 
 ' One minuto now will ease my fears — 
 
 Or, still more wretched must I be ? 
 No : surely Heaven has spared our tears : 
 
 1 see him, clothed in snow ; — 't is ho ! 
 
 • Where have you stayed ? put down your load. 
 
 How have you borne the storm, the cold ? 
 What horrors did I not forebode — 
 
 That beast is worth his weight in gold.' 
 Thus spoke the joyful wife ; —then ran 
 And hid in grateful steams her head : 
 Dapple was housed, tho hungry man 
 
 With joy glanced o'er the children's bed. 
 ' What, all asleep ! — so best,' he cried : 
 
 ' 0, what a night I 've travelled through ! 
 Unseen, unheard, I might have died ; 
 
 But Heavon has brought me safe to you. 
 ' Dear partner of my nights and days, 
 
 That smile becomes thee ! —let us then 
 Learn, though mishap may cross our ways. 
 It is not ours to reckon when.' 
 
 THE HAin'Y FIRESIDE. 
 The hearth was clean, tho fire clear, 
 
 The kettle on for tea ; 
 Palomon, in his elbow-chair, 
 
 As blessed os man could be. 
 
 Clarinda, who his heart possessed. 
 
 And was his new-made bride. 
 With head reclined upon his breast. 
 
 Sat toying by his side. 
 Streteh«d at his feet, in happy st«te 
 
 A favorite dog was laid ; 
 By whom a little sportive cat 
 
 In wanton humor played. 
 Clarinda's hand ho gently pressed ; 
 
 She stole an amorous kiss. 
 And, blushing, modestly confessed 
 Tho fulness of her bliss. * * 
 
igmit 0f Iriiisf for BcrniUifr. 
 
 
 MILTON'S "CHRISTMAS HYMN." 
 
 While the Creator great 
 
 
 (ABRIDGED.) 
 
 His constellations set. 
 
 
 1. It was the winter wild, 
 
 And the well-balanced world on hinges hung, 
 
 
 Wliile the Heaven-born child 
 
 And east the dark foundations deep, [keep. 
 
 
 All meanly wrapt in a rude manger lies ; 
 
 And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel 
 
 
 Nature, in awe to Him, 
 
 13. King out, ye crystal spheres. 
 
 
 Had doffed her gaudy trim. 
 
 Once bless our human ears 
 
 
 With her great Master so to sympathize ■ 
 
 (If ye have power to touch our senses so). 
 
 
 It was no season then for her 
 
 And let your silver chime 
 
 
 To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. * * 
 
 Move in melodious time, 
 
 
 i. No war or battle's sound 
 
 And let the base of heaven's deep organ blow. 
 
 
 Was heard the world around : 
 
 And, with your nine-fold harmony, 
 
 
 The idle spear and shiel*were high up-hung ; 
 
 Make up full consort to the angelic symphony. 
 
 
 The hooked chariot stood. 
 
 U. For if such holy song 
 
 
 Unstained with hostile blood ; 
 
 Inwarp our fancy long, 
 
 
 The trumpet spake not to the armed throng ; 
 
 Time will run back, and fetch the Age of Gold, 
 
 
 And kings sat still, with awful eye, [by. 
 
 And speckled vanity 
 
 
 As if they surely knew their sorereign Lord was 
 
 Will sicken soon and die, 
 
 
 5. But peaceful was the night 
 
 And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould, 
 
 
 Wherein the Prince of Light 
 
 And hell itself will pass away, [day. * * 
 
 
 His reign of peace upon the earth began : 
 
 And leave her dolorous mansion to the peering 
 
 
 The winds, with wonder whist, 
 
 19. The oracles are dumb, 
 
 
 Pi 11. h 11).. u.lrrs kissed, 
 
 No voice or hideous hum [ceiving. 
 
 
 V' :.. ... - ..,i..ys to the mild ocean. 
 
 Runs through the arched roof in words de- 
 
 
 A\ . , .,11.. forgot to rave, 
 
 Apollo from his shrine 
 
 
 A\iiil. Ill 1 .1 ..ilm sit on the charmed wave.** 
 
 Can no more divine, [leaving. 
 
 
 8. The shi'phcrds on the lawn. 
 
 With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos 
 
 
 Or e'er the point of dawn, 
 
 No nightly trance or breathed spell [cell. 
 
 
 Sat simply chatting in a rustic row ; 
 
 Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic 
 
 
 Full little thought they then 
 
 20. The lonely mountains o'er. 
 
 
 That the mighty Pan 
 
 And the resounding shore. 
 
 
 Was kindly come to live with them below ; 
 
 A voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; 
 
 
 Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, 
 
 From haunted spring and dale. 
 
 
 Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep. 
 
 Edged with poplar pale. 
 
 
 9. When such music sweet 
 
 The parting genius is with sighing sent ; 
 
 
 Their hearts and ears did greet 
 
 With flower-inwoven tresses torn, [mourn. 
 
 
 As never was by mortal singer strook. 
 
 The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets 
 
 
 Divinely warbled voice. 
 
 21. In consecrated earth. 
 
 
 Answering the stringed noise. 
 
 And on the holy hearth, [plaint ; 
 
 
 As all their souls in blissful rapture took : 
 
 The Lars and Lemures mourn with midnight 
 
 
 The air, such pleasure loth to lose, [close. * * 
 
 In urns, and altars round, 
 
 
 With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly 
 
 A drear and dying sound 
 
 
 11. At last surrounds their sight 
 
 Affrights the flamens at their service quaint; 
 
 
 A globe of circular light, [arrayed. 
 
 And the chill marble seems to sweat [seat. * » 
 
 
 That with long beams the shame-faced night 
 
 While each peculiar power foregoes his customed 
 
 
 The helmed cherubim. 
 
 27 But see, the Virgin blest 
 
 
 And sworded seraphim, [played. 
 
 Hath laid her Babe to rest ; [ending : 
 
 
 Are seen in glittering ranks, with wings dis- 
 
 Time is our tedious song should here have 
 
 
 Harping, in loud and solemn choir, [Heir. 
 
 Heaven's youngest teemed star 
 
 
 With unexpressivo notes to Heaven's new-born 
 
 Hath fi.xed her polished car, [tending. 
 
 
 12. Such music as ('tis said) 
 
 Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp at- 
 
 
 Before was never made, 
 
 And all about the courtly stable 
 
 
 But when of old the Sons of Morning sung, 
 
 Bright harnessed angels sit in order serviceable. 
 
 
, ^ 
 
 
 
 AYINTER-JANUAR V. 
 
 tilooinficlii's '\t\irnicv's ^•on 
 
 Ten-lerness to cattle. Frozen turnips. The cow-yard. Night. 
 The farm-house. Fireside. Farmer's advice and instruc- 
 tion. Nightly cares of UiestiiWe. Dobbin. Tile post-horse. 
 Sheep-stealing dogs. Walks occasioned thereby. The 
 ghost. Lamb-time. Beturuiog spring. Conclusion. 
 
 SYMPATHY W!TU TDE LABORER. 
 
 With kindred pleasures moved, and cares opprcst, 
 Sharing nlilio our weariness and rest ; 
 Who lives the daily partner of our hours, 
 Thro' every oliange of heat, and frost, and showers; 
 Parlaltcs our cheerful meals, partalting first 
 In mutual labor and in mutual thirst, 
 The Itindly intercourse will over prove 
 A bond of amity and social love. 
 
 ALS : THEIR DEPENDENCE 
 
 To more than man this generous warmth extends, 
 And oft the team and shiv'ring herd befriends ; 
 Tender solicitndo the bosom fills. 
 And pity executes what reason wills : 
 Youth learns compassion's talc from every tongue, 
 And flies to old the helpless and the young ; 
 
 For though on hoary twigs no buds peep out, 
 And e'en tho hardy bramble cease to sprout, 
 Beneath dread Winter's level sheets of snow 
 The sweet nutritious turnip deigns to grow. 
 Till now imperious want and wide-spread dearth 
 Jiid labor claim her treasures from the earth. 
 On Giles, and such as Giles, tho labor falls 
 To strew tho frequent load where hunger calls. 
 Ou driring gales sharp hail indignant flies, 
 .'Vnd sleet, more irksome still, assails his eyes ; 
 Snow clogs his feet ; or, if no snow is seen. 
 The field with all its juicy store to screen, 
 Deep goes tho frost, till every root is found 
 A rolling mass of ice upon the ground. 
 No tender ewe can break her nightly fast, 
 Jfor heifer strong begin the cold repast. 
 
 When now, unsparing as the scourge of war, 
 
 Blasts follow blasts, and groves dismantled roar, I 
 
 Around their home tho storm-pinched cattle lows, 
 
 No nourishment in frozen pastures grows j 
 
 Yet frozen pastures every morn resound 
 
 With fair abundance thundering to tho ground. 
 
RURAL POETRY. — BLOOMFIELD. 
 
 Till Giles with pouderous beetle foremost go, 
 And scattering splinters fly at every blow ; 
 When pressing round him, eager for the prize, 
 From their mixt breath warm exhalations rise. 
 
 If now in beaded rows drops deck the spray, 
 While Phcebus grants a momentary ray, 
 Let but a cloud's broad shadow intervene, 
 And stiffened into gems the drops are seen ; 
 And down the furrowed oak's broad southern side 
 Streams of dissolving rime no longer glide. 
 
 Though night approaching bids for rest prepare, 
 Still the flail echoes through the frosty air. 
 Nor stops till deepest shades of darkness come. 
 Sending at length the weary laborer home. 
 From him, with bed and nightly food supplied. 
 Throughout the yard, housed round on every side. 
 Deep-plunging cows their rustling feast enjoy, 
 And snatch sweet mouthfuls from the passing boy, 
 Who moves unseen beneath his trailing load, 
 Fills the tall racks, and leaves a scattered road ; 
 Where oft the swine from ambush warm and dry 
 Bolt out, and scamper headlong to their sty, 
 When Giles, with well-known voice, already there, 
 Deigns them a portion of his evening care. 
 
 THE farmer's fire ; GILES BRINGING IN WOOD ; THE FIRE- 
 PLACE, cmMNEY, LOFT J RUDE PLENTY OF THE KITCHEN. 
 
 Him tho' the cold may pierce, and storms molest. 
 Succeeding hours shall cheer with warmth and rest; 
 Gladness to spread, and raise the grateful smile. 
 Ho hurls the fagot bursting from the pile, 
 And many a log, and rifted trunk, conveys 
 To heap the fire, and to extend the blaze. 
 That quivering strong through every opening flies, 
 "While smoky columns unobstructed rise. 
 For the rude architect, .unknown to fame 
 (Nor symmetry nor elegance his aim), 
 Who spreads his floors of solid oak on high, 
 On beams rough-hewn, from age to age that lie. 
 Bade his wide fabric unimpaired sustain 
 Pomona's store, and cheese, and golden grain ; 
 Bade from its central base, capacious laid. 
 The well-wrought chimney rear its lofty head ; 
 Where since hath many a savory ham been stored, 
 And tempests howled, and Christmas gambols roared. 
 
 Flat on the hearth the glowing embers lie, 
 And flames reflected dance in every eye : 
 There the long billet, forced at last to bend. 
 While frothing sap gushes at either end, [smiles. 
 Throws round its welcome heat : — tho ploughman 
 And oft the joke runs hard on sheepish Giles, 
 Who sits joint tenant of the corner-stool, 
 The converse sharing, though in duty's school ; 
 For now attentively 't is his to hoar 
 Interrogations from the master's chair. 
 
 ' Left ye your bleating charge, when daylight fled. 
 Near where the hay-stack lifts its snowy head ? 
 Whose fence of bushy furze, so close and warm. 
 May stop the slanting bullets of the storm. 
 For, hark ! it blows ; a dark and dismal night ! 
 Heaven guide the traveller's fearful steps aright ! 
 Now from the worid.- nut) u^iiul ,,,m1 sharp-eyed. 
 The fox in silent .I;,i: ■ .. i , i , ;:liae, 
 
 Stealing around 11- , |i i i i,. ::ucs, 
 
 If chance the cock <'i -i n. tin-- mckerel crows, 
 
 Or goose, or nodding duck, should darkling cry, 
 As if apprised of lurking danger nigh : 
 Destruction waits them, Giles, if e'er you fail 
 To bolt their doors against the driving gale. 
 Strewed you (still mindful of the unsheltered bead) 
 Burdens of straw — the cattle's welcome bed ? 
 Thine heart should feel, what thou may'st hourly see, 
 That duty's basis is humanity : 
 Of pain's unsavory cup though thou may'st taste 
 (The wrath of Winter from the bleak north-east), 
 Thine utmost sufferings in the coldest day 
 A period terminates, and joys repay.' 
 
 'Perhaps e'en now, while hero those joys we 
 
 Full many a bark rides down the neighboring coast. 
 Where the high northern waves tremendous roar, 
 Drove down by blasts from Norway's icy shore. 
 The sea-boy there, less fortunate than thou, 
 Feels all thy pains in all tho gusts that blow ; 
 His freezing hands now drenched, now dry, by turns ; 
 Now lost, now seen, the distant light that burns 
 On some tall cliff upraised, a flaming guide. 
 That throws its friendly radiance o'er the tide. 
 His labors cease not with declining day. 
 But toils and perils mark his watery way ; 
 And whilst in peaceful dreams secure we lie, 
 The ruthless whirlwinds rage along the sky. 
 Round his head whistling ! — and shalt thou repine. 
 While this protecting roof still shelters thine ? ' 
 
 THE FARMER'S INSTRDCTrVE CONVERSATIOS WELL RECEIVED } 
 DROWSINESS. 
 
 Mild, as the vernal shower, his words prevail. 
 And aid the moral precept of his tale : 
 His wondering hearers learn, and ever keep 
 These first ideas of the restless deep ; 
 And, as the opening mind a circuit tries, 
 Present felicities in value rise. 
 Increasing pleasures every hour they find. 
 The warmth more precious, and tho shelter kind ; 
 Warmth that long reigning bids the eyelids close, 
 As through the blood its balmy influence goes. 
 When tho cheered heart forgets fatigues and cares. 
 And drowsiness alone dominion bears. 
 
WINTER — JANUARY. 
 
 447 
 
 Sweet then the ploughman slumbers, halo and 
 When the lost topic dies upon his tongue ; [young, 
 Swoot then the bliss his transient dreams inspire, 
 Till chillblains wake him, or the snapping fire. 
 
 Ho starts, and, ever thoughtful of his team. 
 Along tho glittering snow a foeblo gleam 
 Shoots from his lantern, as ho yawning goes 
 To add fresh eomforts to their night's roposo ; 
 Diffusing fragrance as thoir food ho moves, 
 And pats tho jolly sides of those ho loves. 
 Thus full replenished, perfect ease posscst. 
 From night till morn alternate food and rest, 
 No rightful cheer withheld, no sleep debarred. 
 Their each day's labor brings its sure reward. 
 Yet when, from plough or lumbering cart set free. 
 They taste a while the sweets of liberty, 
 E'en sober Dobbin lifts his clumsy heels. 
 And kicks, disdainful of the dirty wheels : 
 But soun, his frolic ended, yields again 
 To trudge tho road, and wear tho clinking chain. 
 
 Short-sighted Dobbin ! — thou canst only see 
 The trivial hardships that encompass thee : 
 Thy chains were freedom, and thy toils repose, 
 I'ould tho poor post-horse tell thco all his woes ; 
 Show thee his bleeding shoulders, and unfold 
 Tho dreadful anguish ho endures for gold : 
 Hired at each call of business, lust, or rage. 
 That prompt the traveller on from stage to stage. 
 Still on his strength depends their boasted speed ; 
 For them his limbs grow weak, his bare ribs bleed; 
 And though ho groaning quickens at command. 
 Their e.ttra shilling in the rider's hand 
 Becomes his bitter scourge : — 'tis he must feel 
 The double efforts of the lash and steel ; 
 Till when, up hill, the destined inn he gains. 
 And trembling under complicated pains. 
 Prone from his nostrils, darting on the ground. 
 His breath emitted, floats in clouds around ; 
 Drops chase each other down his chest and sides. 
 And spattered mud his native color hides ; 
 Through his swoln veins the boiling current flows. 
 And every nerve a separate torture knows. 
 His harness loosed, he welcomes eager-eyed 
 Tho pail's full draught that quivers by his side ; 
 .\nd joys to see the well-known stable-door. 
 As tho starved mariner tho friendly shore. 
 
 CRUEL LADOB OF THB POST-HORSE, V 
 
 Ah, well for him, if bore his sufferings ceased, 
 And ample hours of rest his pains appeased ! 
 But, roused again, and sternly bade to rise. 
 And shako refreshing slumber from his eyes. 
 Ere bis exhausted spirits can return, 
 Or through his frame reviving ardor burn, 
 Come forth ho must, tho' limping, maimed, and sore; 
 He hears the whip ; the chaise is at tho door ; — 
 The collar tightens, and again he fools 
 
 His half-healed wounds inflamed ; again tho wheels 
 With tiresome sameness in his cars resound. 
 O'er blinding dust, or miles of flinty ground. 
 Thus nightly robbed, and injured day by day, 
 His piecemeal murderers wear his life away. 
 
 PATIKSCB; BILOOT OF DOBDIS, ms LIFK A.SD DBATH ; 
 
 What say's! thou, Dobbin? what tho' hounds await 
 With open jaws tho moment of thy fate ? 
 No better fato attends his public race ; 
 His life is misery, and his end disgrace ! 
 Then freoly boar thy burden to the mill : 
 Obey but one short law, — thy driver's will. 
 Affection, to thy mcm'ry ever true. 
 Shall boast of mighty loads that Dobbin drew. 
 And back to childhood shall tho mind, with pride, 
 Recount thy gentleness in many a rido 
 To pond, or field, or village fair, when thou 
 Held'st high thy braided mane and comely brow ; 
 And oft the tale shall rise to homely fame 
 Upon thy generous spirit and thy name. 
 
 Though faithful to a proverb, wo regard 
 The midiiii^Iit chieftiiin of the farmer's yard, 
 Bciiratli \ilin.r - iKi p 1 iiuiship ttll hottrls rejoice, 
 
 W.il.r 1,1 il I I Ilia hollow voice ; 
 
 Vil ;i I I' Il III I iNi.v ftiltering quit tho pack, 
 Suuli Uic I'tiit ^c-jni, aud hasten yelping back ; 
 And e'en tho docile pointer know disgrace. 
 Thwarting the general instinct of his race ; 
 E'en so the mastiff, or tho meaner cur, 
 At times, will from tho path of duty err 
 (A pattern of fidelity by day ; 
 By night a murderer, lurking for his prey). 
 And round tho pastures or the fold will creep. 
 And, coward-like, attack tho peaceful sheep ; 
 Alone tho wanton mischief he pursues. 
 Alone in rooking blood his jaws imbrues ; 
 Chasing amain his frightened victims round. 
 Till death in wild confusion strews tho ground ; 
 Then, wearied out, to kennel sneaks away, 
 And licks his guilty paws till break of day. 
 
 Tho dead discovered, and tho news once spread, 
 Vongeonco hangs o'er the unknown culprit's head ; 
 And careful shepherds extra hours bestow 
 In patient watchings for the common foe ; 
 A foe most dreaded now, when rest and peace 
 Should wait the season of tho flock's increase. 
 
 In part these nightly terrors to dispel, 
 Oiles, ere ho sloops, his little flock must tell. 
 From tho fireside with many a shrug he hies. 
 Glad if the full-orbed moon salute his eyes. 
 And through tho unbroken stillness of tho night 
 Shed on his path her beams of cheering light. 
 With sauntering st?p he climbs tho distant stile, 
 Whilst all around him wears a placid smilo ; 
 
There Tiews the white-robed clouds in clusters driven, 
 And all the glorious pageantry of heaven. 
 Low, on the utmost bouudavy of the sight, 
 The rising vapors catch the silver light ; 
 Thciii-i-. fancy measures, as they parting fly, 
 Wlii'li 111 -I "ill tliinw its shadow on the eye, 
 
 P;,..i,, ill, .,,n;, Might; and thence away, 
 
 t^uri 1 i i, I .ui-l, i>> I iiighter still than they. 
 For v-t ji'v\ I till ■!■ niifted clouds are seen, 
 In a remoter sky, still more serene. 
 Others, detached in ranges through the air, 
 Spotless as snow, and countless as they 're fair ; 
 Scattered immensely wide from east to west. 
 The beauteous semblance of a flock at rest. 
 These, to the raptured mind, aloud proclaim 
 Their mighty Shepherd's everlasting name. 
 
 UEDrrATIOSS 5 DUTY. — THE GHOST. — FRIGHT. 
 
 Whilst thus the loiterer's utmost stretch of soul 
 Climbs the still clouds, or passes those that roll, 
 And loosed imagination soaring goes 
 High o'er his home, and all his little woes, 
 Time glides away ; ncglcctcil duty calls ! 
 At once from pluiii- "1 li-lii i i earth he falls, 
 Anddowna ii:i; i I Luown by day. 
 
 With all his ■, i : ' i -> u.iding way, 
 
 In thought btillL.ili .iL-iIjlI, and chilled with cold; 
 When, lo ! an object frightful to behold ; 
 A grisly spectre, clothed in silver-gray. 
 Around whoso feet the waving shadows play. 
 Stands in his path ! — lie stops, and not a breath 
 Heaves from his heart, that sinks almost to death. 
 
 Loud the owl halloos o'er his head unseen ; 
 All else is silent, dismally serene : 
 Some prompt ejaculation, whispered low. 
 Yet bears him up against the threatening foe ; 
 And thus poor Giles, though half inclined to fly. 
 Mutters his doubts, and strains his steadfast eye. 
 ' 'T is not my crimes thou oom'st here to reprove ; 
 No murders stain my soul, no perjured love : 
 If thou 'rt indeed what here thou seem'st to be, 
 Thy dreadful mission cniinnt reach to me. 
 
 By parents taught still t ^tiii-l niiin; ivr-. 
 
 Still to approach each .ilij..'! i.l .^lu |ii i-r. 
 
 Lest fancy's formful visinns should ilccei\o 
 
 In moonlight paths, or glooms of falling eve, 
 
 This then 's the moment when my heart should try 
 
 To scan thy motionless deformity ; 
 
 But, ! the fearful task ! yet well I know 
 
 An aged ash, with many a spreading hough 
 
 (Beneath whose leaves I 'vo found aSummor's bower, 
 
 Beneath whose trunk I 've weathered many a 
 
 Stands singly down this solitary way, [shower). 
 
 But far beyond where now my footsteps stay. 
 
 'T is true, thus far I *vo come with heedless haste ; 
 
 No reckoning kept, no passing objects traced : — 
 
 And can I, then, have reached that very tree ! 
 
 Or is its reverend form assumed by thee ? ' 
 
 The happy thought alleviates his pain : 
 Ho creeps another stop, then stops again : 
 Till slowly, as his noiseless feet draw near, 
 Its perfect lineaments at once appear ; 
 Its crown of shiv'ring ivy whispering peace, 
 And its white bark that fronts the moon's pale face. 
 Now, whilst his blood mounts upward, now he knows 
 The solid gain that from conviction flows ; 
 And strengthened confidence shall hence fulfil 
 (With conscious innocence more valued still) 
 The dreariest task that wiiitcr niglits can bring, 
 |;,v rliureli-yar.l ilailv, ur ■^rn^.■. <„■ laiiy ring ; 
 .Nill liunvi,,,- i,|, the Hiiihl mind i.f youth, 
 Till liiil'rin- rea^mi Imi-ls the siaile of truth. 
 With these blest guardians liiles his course pursues. 
 Till, numbering his heavy-sided ewes. 
 Surrounding stillness tranquillize his breast. 
 And shape the dreams that wait his hours of rest. 
 
 As when retreating tempests we behold. 
 Whose skirts at length the azure sky unfold. 
 And, full of murmurings and mingled wrath, 
 Slowly unshroud the smiling face of earth. 
 Bringing the bosom joy : so Winter flies ! 
 And sec the source of life and light uprise ! 
 A heightening arch o'er southern hills he bends ; 
 Warm on the cheek the slanting beam descends, 
 And gives the reeking mead a brighter hue, 
 And draws the modest primrose bud to view. 
 
 MOTHERS. 
 
 Yet frosts succeed, and winds impetuous rusli, 
 And hail-fliinii- ratlle ihnm-li the budding bush ; 
 Andni-ht-tiilleii lamK- ii'.|iiu.' Ilie -liepherd's care, 
 Andtccmie- eMi -, thai -iill I lin, l.mdens bear ; 
 Beneath nh.-e Mde, t"-m"ir-»V dawn may see 
 The milk-white strangers bow the trembling knee ; 
 At whose first birth the powerful instinct 's seen 
 That fills with champions the daisied green : 
 
 I'.ir .wes Halt st 1 ale. if with fearful eye, 
 
 W III, -tim|aii^ t'M.i, u>'\\ men and dogs defy. 
 
 All 1, mIi-Iiii ii' 1\ la I til till til their young, 
 
 Guard their hrjt ateps to join the bleating throng. 
 
 HOW TO ASSCAGE THE GRIEF 
 
 But casualties and death from damps and cold 
 Will still attend the well-conducted fold : 
 Her tender ofi'spring dead, the dam aloud 
 Calls, and runs wild, amidst tho unconscious crowd : 
 And orphaned sueklin-is nuM; the piteous cry ; 
 No wool to warm tin in, le, drlrmlrrs nigh. 
 And must her streaming milk ihen llnwinvain? 
 Must unregarded inuoeenee cumidaia? 
 No ; — ere this strong solicitude subside. 
 Maternal fondness may be fresh applied. 
 
WINTER — JANUARY. 
 
 449 
 
 And tho adopted stripling still may find 
 
 A parent most assiduously kind. 
 
 For this bo 'a doomed a while disguised to range 
 
 (For fraud or force must work tho wishcd-forchimgo), 
 
 For this his prodcoossor's skin ho wears, 
 
 Till cheated into tenderness and cares, 
 
 Tho unsuspecting dam, contented grown, 
 
 Cherish and guard the fondling as her own. 
 
 Tns WELL-TKNDED FLOCK.' 
 
 Thus all by turns to fair perfection rise ; 
 Thus twins arc partod tn incrcaso their size : 
 Thus ill i' , > ■. ■ I I Mii. ir-i |n,;iiii the way. 
 Till III ■ I , i.Ty day. 
 
 Oil sun Mil,' flowers 
 
 Tho huiubkT -li 
 The approved ci'm 
 And, iuhissmiill 
 Adjusts tlio pruiti 
 For boys with uim 
 And boiv.st their \k 
 Of well-grown hiin 
 And field to field i 
 
 beholds 
 
 iillhfiil sho 
 Spring, 
 
 TniOMPIlAST JOY or OILBS *8 OB HSABS mS FLOCK COl 
 UISDBO ST PASSBB8 HT. 
 
 E'en Giles, for all his cares and watohings past. 
 And all his contests with tho wintry blast, 
 Claims a full share of that sweet praise bestowed 
 By gazing neighbors, when along the road. 
 Or village green, his curly-coated throng 
 Suspends tho chorus of tho spinner's song ; 
 AVhen admiration's unaffected grace 
 Lisps from tho tongue, and beams in every face : 
 Delightful moments ! — sunshine, health, and joy, 
 Play round and ehcer the elevated boy ! 
 
 RAISB, AND PRAYER, OP THE PARMKR'S BOK 
 
 ' Another Spring ! ' his heart exulting cries ; 
 ' Another year ! with promised blessings rise ! 
 Eternal Power ! from whom these blessings flow 
 Teach me still more to wonder, more to know : 
 Seed-time and harvest let me see again ; 
 Wander the leaf-strewn wood, the frozen plain : 
 Let the first flower, corn-waving field, plain, trei 
 Ikic round my home, still lift my soul to Thoo j 
 And let luc, ever, midst thy bounties, raise 
 An humble note of thankfulness and praise '. ' 
 
 ihwsstx's "iianuarn's Ijnsbaniivi). 
 
 Forgott<?n montli jiast, 
 Do now at llie last. 
 When Christmas is ended bid feasting adieu, 
 Go play the good husband thy stock to renew. 
 Be mindful of rearing, in hope of a gain 
 Dame profit shall give thee reward for thy pain. 
 Who both by his calf and his Iamb will be known, 
 May well kill a neat apd a sheep of his own ; 
 And he that can rear up a pig in his house. 
 Hath cheaper his bacon, and sweeter his souse. 
 Who eateth his veal, pig ami I iiiil., 1" inj Imlli,' 
 Shall, twice in a week, go ti 1 I >. i i u i tli : 
 Unskilful that pass not, but - ;i ,i ■ i , , II 
 Shall never have plenty whcitur Ihuj dwLll. 
 Be greedy in spending and careless to save, 
 And shortly be needy, and ready to crave ; 
 Bo wilful to kill, and unskilful to store. 
 And look for no foison, I tell thee before. » * 
 Leave killing of coney, let doe go to buck. 
 And vcrmine thy borough, for fear of ill-luck. 
 Feed dove (no more killing), old dove-house repair, 
 Save dove-dung for hop-yard, when house yo make 
 
 fair. * * 
 
 From Christma.s 1 
 Some caltlo wax 
 And chiefly whui 
 Then most is the 
 
 11 .Mn 
 
 ntered in, 
 
 r-t doth appear 
 whole year. 
 
 1 It is 8 
 
 Broth was formerly the suppcr-disb in farm- 
 
 Tn ridding of pasture, with turfs that lie by. 
 Fill every hole up as close as a die : 
 The labor is little, the profit is gay. 
 Whatever the loitering laborers Say. 
 The sticks and tho stones go gather up clean. 
 For hurting of scythe or for harming of green. 
 For fear of Hugh Prowler get home with the rest ; 
 When frost is at hardest then carriage is best. 
 Young broom, or good pasture, thy owes do require. 
 Warm barth,^ and in safety, their lambs do desire : 
 Look often well to them, for foxes and dogs, 
 For pits, and for brambles, for vermin, and hogs. 
 ^Jore dainty the lamb, the more worth to bo sold, 
 The sooner the better, for ewe that is old ; 
 But if ye do mind to have milk of the dame, 
 Till May do not sever tho lamb from the same. 
 Ewes yearly by twinning rich masters do make ; 
 Tho lamb of such twinnersfor breeders go take. • • 
 Calves likely that come between Christmas and Lent 
 Take huswife to rear,' or else after repent. • • 
 The senior weaned, his younger shall teach 
 Both how to drink water and hay for to reach : 
 ^lore stroken and mado of, when aught it doth ail. 
 More gentle ye make it, for yoke or tho pail. * • 
 
 1 Juice of crali-applcs. = Ucrlh ; lair, place to lie hi. 
 
 '■> Early calves make the strongest slock, if well attcmlcd to. 
 
|l;istoral for lanuai'L). 
 
 VIRGIL'S "MELIBCEUS." 
 Beneath a holm, repaired two jolly swains ; 
 Their sheep and goats together grazed the plains : 
 Both young Arcadians, both alike inspired 
 To sing, and answer as the song required. 
 Daphnis, as umpire, took the middle seat ; 
 And fortune thither led my weary feet. 
 For while I fenced my myrtles from the cold, 
 The father of my flock had wandered from the fold. 
 Of Daphnis I inquired ; he, smiling, said, 
 Dismiss your fear, and pointed where he fed. 
 And, if no greater cares disturb your mind, 
 Sit here with us, in covert of the wind. 
 Your lowing, heifers, of their own accord. 
 At watering time will seek the neighboring ford. 
 Here wanton Mincius winds along the meads, 
 And shades his happy banks with bending reeds : 
 And see from yon old oak, that mates the skies. 
 How black the clouds of swarming bees arise. 
 What should I do ! nor was Alcippe nigh, 
 Nor absent Phyllis could my care sui>ply ; 
 To house, and feed by hand my weaning lambs. 
 And drain the strutting udders of their dams ? 
 Great was the strife betwixt the singing swains : 
 And I preferred my pleasure to my gains. 
 Alternate rhyme the ready champions chose ; 
 These Corydon rehearsed, and Thyrsis those. 
 CoRYDON. Ye Muses, ever fair, and ever young, 
 Assist my numbers, and inspire my song. 
 With all my Codrus, 0, inspire my breast ! 
 For Codrus, after Phoebus, sings the best. 
 Or, if my wishes have presumed too high. 
 And stretched their bounds beyond mortality. 
 The praise of artful numbers I resign, 
 And hang my pipe upon the sacred pine. 
 Thyrsis. Arcadian swains, your youthful poetcrown 
 With ivy wreaths ; though surly Codrus frown. 
 Or if he blast my Muse with envious praise. 
 Then fence my brows with amulets of bays ; 
 Lest his ill arts, or his malicious tongue, 
 Should poison, or bewitch, my growing song. 
 C. These branches of a stag, this tusky boar 
 (The first essay of arms untried before), 
 Y'oung Mycon offers, Delia, to thy shrine ; 
 But speed his hunting with thy power divine. 
 Thy statue then of Parian stone shall stand ; 
 Thy legs in buskins with a purple band. 
 T. This bowl of milk, these cakes (our country fare), 
 For thee, Priapus, yearly we prepare. 
 Because a little garden is thy care. 
 But if the falling lambs increase my fold, 
 Thy marble statue shall be turned to gold. 
 
 C. Fair Galatea, with thy silver feet, 
 0, whiter than the swan, and more than Hybla sweet ! 
 Tall as a poplar, taper as the bole. 
 Come, charm thy shepherd, and restore my soul. 
 Come, when my lated sheep at night return ; 
 And crown the silent hours, and stop the rosy morn. 
 T. May I become as abject in thy sight 
 As sea-weed on the shore, and black as night ; 
 Rough as a bur, deformed like him who chaws 
 Sardinian herbage to contract his jaws ; 
 Such and so monstrous let thy swain appear. 
 If one day's absence looks not like a year. 
 Hence from the field for shame : the flock deserves 
 No better feeding while the shepherd starves. 
 C. Ye mossy springs, inviting ciisy sleep, [keep. 
 Ye trees, whose leafy shades those mossy fountains 
 Defend my flock ; the summer heats are near. 
 And blossoms on the swelling vines appear. 
 T. With heapy fires our cheerful hearth is crowned ; 
 And firs for torches in the woods abound : 
 We fear not more the winds and wintry cold. 
 Than streams the banks, or wolves the bleating fold. 
 C. Our woods, with juniper and chestnuts crowned, 
 With falling fruits and berries paint the ground ; 
 And lavish nature laughs, and strews her stores 
 But if Alexis from our mountains fly, [around. 
 
 Even running rivers. leave their channels dry. 
 T. Parched are the plains, and frying is the field. 
 Nor withering vines their juicy vintage yield. 
 But if returning Phyllis bless the plain. 
 The grass revives ; the woods are green again ; 
 And Jove descends in showers of kindly rain. 
 C. The poplar is by great Alcides worn ; 
 The brows of Phoebus his own bays adorn ; 
 The branching vine the jolly Bacchus loves ; 
 The Cyprian queen delights in myrtle groves. 
 With hazel Phyllis crowns her flowing hair ; 
 And while she loves that common wreath to wear. 
 Nor bays, nor myrtle boughs, with hazel shall com- 
 pare. 
 T. The towering ash is fairest in the woods ; 
 In gardens pines, and poplars by the floods : 
 But if my Lycidas will ease my pains. 
 And often visit our forsaken plains. 
 To him the towering ash shall yield in woods ; 
 In gardens pines, and poplars by the floods. 
 Melib(EDS. These rhymes I did to memory com- 
 
 When vanquished Thyrsis did in vain contend ; 
 Since when, 't is Corydon among the swains, 
 Young Corydon without a rival reigns. 
 
^nustroiurs "Ivt of V)f;i 
 
 SIBJECT ; THE ISfLCKSCK OF MORil. CArSRS OS HEALTH. 
 
 The choice of aliment, the choice of air, 
 The use of toil and all external things. 
 Already sung ; it now remains to trace 
 What good, what evil, from ourselves proceeds : 
 And how the subtle principle within 
 Inspires with health, or mines with strange decay. 
 The passive body. Ye poetic shades, 
 That know the secrets of the world unseen, 
 Assist my song ! For, in a doubtful theme 
 Engaged, I wander through mysterious ways. 
 
 THE SPnuTCAL BODY ISFLCESCBS THE ANIMAL BODY. 
 
 Thoro is, they say (and I believo there is), 
 A spark within us of th' immortal fire, 
 Tlmt iiiiiiuatos and moulds the grosser frame ; 
 An I, whrii till- Ii.hIv sinks, escapes to heaven, 
 II- naiiir -^rat. un.l mixes with the gods. 
 .Mr:ui\\tiil<; t!ii> heavenly particle pervades 
 Til.' iii.iVtiil i-luuR'nts : in every nerve 
 It thrill? with plcusurc, or grows mad with pain. 
 .Vii'l, ill it-' >i--crct conclave, as it feels 
 The body's woes and joys, this ruling power 
 Wields at its will the dull material world, 
 And is the body's health or malady. 
 
 By its own toil the gross corporeal frame 
 Fatigues, extenuates, or destroys itself. 
 Nor less the labors of the mind corrode 
 The solid fabric : for by subtle parts 
 And viewless atoms secret Nature moves 
 The mighty wheels of this stupendous world. 
 By subtle fluids poured through subtle tubes 
 The natural, vital functions are performed. 
 By these the stubborn aliments are tamed ; 
 The toiling heart distributes life and strength ; 
 These the still-crumbling frame rebuild ; and th 
 Arc lost in thinking, and dissolve in air. 
 
 AXXIBIY, DISCOSTEST, ETC. 
 
 But 't is not thought (for still the soul 'a employed), 
 Tis painful thinking, that corrodes our clay. 
 All day the vacant eye without fatigue 
 Strays o'er the heaven and earth ; but long intent 
 On microscopic arts its vigor fails. 
 Just so the mind, with various thought amused, 
 Nor aches itself, nor gives the body pain. 
 But anxious study, discontent, and care. 
 Love without hope, and hato without revenge, 
 
 And fear, and jealousy, fatigue the soul. 
 
 Engross the subtle ministers of life. 
 
 And spoil the laboring functions of their shar 
 
 Hence the lean gloom that melancholy wears j 
 
 The lover's paleness ; and the sallow hue 
 
 Of envy, jealousy ; the meagre stare 
 
 Of sore revenge : the cankered body hence 
 
 Betrays each fretful motion of the mind. 
 
 The strong-built pedant, who both night and day 
 Feeds on the coarsest faro the schools bestow. 
 And crudely fattens at gross Burman's stall, 
 O'erwhelmcd with phlegm lies in a dropsy drowned. 
 Or sinks in lethargy before his time. 
 With useful studies you, and arts that please, 
 Employ your mind, amuse but not fatigue. 
 Peace to each ■lr..w-v iivi:i!.lu«ip sage, 
 And ever ni:i.\ i!! ' i ' hh rest ! 
 
 Yet some thn. . , i, : . :,.-lie parts. 
 Whom stron.i; ;ni.| .i. im !!>■ iiiiiliition leads 
 Through all the ru^^'id v.ni.ls of barren lore, 
 And gives to relish what their generous tn.'ste 
 Would else refuse. But may not thirst of fume, 
 Nor love of knowledge, urge you to fatigue 
 With constant drudgery the liberal soul. 
 Toy with your books : and, as the various fits 
 Of humor seize you, from philosophy 
 To fable shift ; from serious Antonine 
 To Rabelais' ravings, and from prose to song. 
 
 -POSTURE Ui STCDTISO. 
 
 While reading pleases, but no longer, read ; 
 And read aloud resounding Homer's strain. 
 And wield the thunder of Demosthenes. 
 The chest so exercised improves its strength ; 
 And quick vibrations through the bowels drive 
 The restless blood, which in unaotive days 
 Would loiter else through unelostlo tubes. 
 Deem it not trifling while I recommend 
 What posture suits : to stand and sit by turns, 
 As Nature prompts, is best. But o'er your leaves 
 To lean forever, cramps the vital parts. 
 And robs the fine machinery of its play. 
 
 'T is the great art of life to manage well 
 The restless mind. Forever on pursuit 
 Of knowledge bent, it starves the grosser powers : 
 Quite unemployed, against its own repose 
 It turns its fatal edge, and sharper pangs 
 Than what the body knows embitter life. 
 
452 
 
 RURAL POETRY. ARMSTRONfi. 
 
 Chiefly where Solitude, sad nurse of Care, 
 
 To sickly musing gives the pensive mind. 
 
 There Madness enters ; and the dim-oycd fiend. 
 
 Sour Melancholy, night and day provokes 
 
 Her own eternal wound. The sun grows pale ; 
 
 A mournful, visionary light o'erspreads 
 
 The cheerful face of nature ; earth becomes 
 
 A dreary desert, and heaven frowns above. 
 
 Then various shapes of cursed illusion rise : 
 
 Whate'er the wretched fears, creative Fear 
 
 Forms out of nothing ; and with monsters teems 
 
 Unknown in hell. The prostrate soul beneath 
 
 A load of huge imagination heaves ; 
 
 And all the horrors that the murderer feels 
 
 With anxious flutterings wake the guiltless breast. 
 
 Such phantoms pride, ia solitary scenes, 
 Or fear, on delicate self-love creates. 
 From other cares absolved, the busy mind 
 Finds in yourself a theme to pore upon ; 
 It finds you miserable, or makes you so. 
 For while yourself you anxiously explure. 
 Timorous self-love, with siekcniug fancy's aid, 
 Presents the danger tliat you dread the most. 
 And ever galls you in your tender part. 
 Hence some for love, and some for jealou?y, 
 For grim religion some, and some for pride, 
 Have lost their reason : some for fear of want 
 Want all their lives ; and others every day 
 For fear of dying suffer worse than death. 
 
 FEAR, THE WORST OF EVILS. — CARB. — TRUST IN PROVI- 
 
 Ah ! from your bosoms banish, if you can. 
 Those fatal guests : and first, the demon Fear, 
 That trembles at impossible events ; 
 Lest aged Atlas should resign his load. 
 And heaven's eternal battlements rush down. 
 Is there an evil worse than fear itself ? 
 And what avails it that indulgent Heaven 
 From mortal eyes has wrapt the woes to come, 
 If we, ingenious to torment ourselves. 
 Grow pale at hideous fictions of our own ? 
 Enjoy the present ;. nor with needless cares, 
 Of what may spring from blind Misfortune's womb. 
 Appall the surest hour that life bestows. 
 Serene, and master of yourself, prepare 
 For what may come ; and leave the rest to Heaven. 
 
 THE body's An.S DISEASE THE MIND, WHICH REACTS OS THE 
 
 Vain are the consolations of the wise ; 
 
 In vain your friends would reason down your pain 
 
 ye, whose souls Relentless love has tamed 
 To soft distress, or friends untimely fallen ! 
 Court not the luxury of tender thought ; 
 Nor deem it impious to forget those pains 
 That hurt the living, naught avail the dead. 
 Go, soft enthusiast ! quit the cypress groves. 
 Nor to the rivulet's lonely meanings tune 
 Your sad complaint. Go, seek the cheerful haunts 
 Of men, and mingle with the bustling crowd ; 
 Lay schemes for wealth, or power, or fame, the wish 
 Of nobler minds, and push them night and day. 
 Or join the caravan in quest of scenes 
 New to your eyes, and shifting every hour. 
 Beyond the Alps, beyond the Apennines. 
 Or, more adventurous, rush into the field 
 AVhere war grows hot ; and, raging through the sky, 
 The lofty trumpet swells the maddening soul : 
 And in the hardy camp and toilsome march 
 Forgot all softer and less manly cares. 
 
 Oft from the body, by long ails mistuned. 
 These evils sprung, the most important health, 
 That of the mind, destroy ; and when the mind 
 They first invade, the conscious body soon 
 In sympathetic languisbment declines. 
 These chronic passions, while from real woes 
 They rise, and yet without the body's fault 
 Infest the soul, admit one only cure ; 
 Diversion, hurry, and a restless life. 
 
 But most, too passive, when the blood runs low. 
 Too weakly indolent to strive with pain. 
 And bravely by resisting conquer fate, 
 Try Circe's arts ; and in the tempting bowl 
 Of poisoned nectar sweet oblivion swill. 
 Struck by the powerful charm, the gloom dissolves 
 In empty air : elysium opens round, 
 A pleasing frenzy buoys the lightened soul, 
 And sanguine hopes dispel your fleeting cares ; 
 And what was difiieult, and what was dire. 
 Yields to your prowess and superior stars : 
 The happiest you of all that e'er were mad. 
 Or arc, or shall be, could this folly last. 
 But soon your heaven is gone ; a heavier gloom 
 Shuts o'er your head : and as the thundering stream, 
 Swol'n o'er its banks with sudden mountain rain. 
 Sinks from its tumult to a silent brook. 
 So, when the frantic raptures in yom- breast 
 Subside, you languish into mortal man ; 
 You sleep, and waking find yourself undone. 
 
 DREADFUL FEELINGS WHEN THE EXCITEMENT OF DRINK 
 PASSES OFF. — PENTHEOS. 
 
 For, prodigal of life, in one rash night 
 You lavished more than might support three days. 
 A heavy morning comes ; your cares return 
 With ten-fold rage. An anxious stomach well 
 May be endured ; so may the throbbing head : 
 But such a dim delirium, such a dream, 
 Involves you ; such a dastardly despair 
 Unmans your soul, as maddening Pentheus ' felt, 
 
 1 The grandson of Cadmus, and King of Thebes, driven 
 mad by Bacchus for resisting the introduction of his worsliip. 
 He was torn to pieces by his mother and two aunts, while 
 they were in a bacchic frenzy. His fate is celebrated in 
 the Bttcclme of Euripides. 
 
458 
 
 Whon, baited round Citliroron'a cruel sides, 
 Ho saw two suns and double Thebes nsccnd. 
 You curso tho sluggish port ; you curse tho wretch, 
 The felon, with unnatural mixture first 
 Who dared to violate the virgin wine. 
 j Or on the fugitive champagne you pour 
 A thousand curses ; for to heaven it wrapt 
 Tour soul, to plunge you deeper in despair. 
 Perhaps you rue even that diviuest gift, 
 Tho gay, serene, good-natured Burgundy, 
 Or the fresh, fragrant vintage of tho Uhino : 
 And wish that Heaven from mortals had withheld 
 The grape, and all intoxicating bowls. 
 
 SAD ErPKCTS OF DRINKINU. — FOLLIKS i CKIHBS ; 
 
 Besides, it wounds you sore to recollect 
 
 What follies in your loose, unguarded hour 
 
 Escaped. For one irrevocable word. 
 
 Perhaps that meant no harm, you lose a friend. 
 
 Or in tho rage of wine your hasty hand 
 
 Performed a deed to haunt you to the grave. 
 
 Add that your means, your health, your parts, decay ; 
 
 Your friends avoid you ; brutishly transformed, 
 j They hardly know you ; or if one remains 
 
 To wish you well, he wishes you in heaven. 
 I Despised, unwept, you fall ; who might have left 
 
 A sacred, cherished, sadly-pleasing name ; 
 
 A name still to bo uttered with a sigh. 
 
 Your last ungraceful scene has quite effaced 
 f of your former worth. 
 
 How to live happiest ; how avoid the pains. 
 The disappointments, and disgusts of those 
 Wii.. wi.uM in i>leasure all their hours employ ; 
 I'hc i,n-.'.-].ls hure of a divine old man 
 1 •■■■n\d ni-itc. Though old, ho still retained 
 Hi- iiiunly souse and energy of mind. 
 Virtuous and wise he was, but not severe ; 
 He still remembered that ho once was young ; 
 His easy presence checked no decent joy. 
 Him even the dissolute atlmired ; for he 
 A graceful looseness when he pleased put on. 
 And laughing could instruct. Much had be read. 
 Much more had seen ; be studied from the life. 
 And in the original perused mankind. 
 
 TUE PCRSnT OF HAPPINESS PLKASrnK AS AN F.NO. 
 
 Versed in the woes and vanities of life. 
 He pitied man : and much ho pitied those 
 Whom falsely-smiling Fate has cursed with means 
 To dissipate their days in quest of joy. 
 Our aim is happiness ; 'tis yours, 'tis mine. 
 He said, 't is the pursuit of all that live ; 
 Yet few attain it, if 'twas ere attained. 
 But they the widest wander from the mark 
 AVho through the flowery paths of sauntering joy 
 Seek this coy goddess ; that from stage to stage 
 Invites us still, but shifts as we pursue. 
 For, not to name the pains that pleasure brings 
 To counterpoise itself, relentless Fate 
 Forbids that we through gay, voluptuous wilds 
 Should ever roam ; and were the Fati-s more kind. 
 
 Our narrow luxuries would soon grow stale. 
 Were these cxhaustless, Nature would grow sick. 
 And, cloyed with pleasure, squeamishly complain 
 That all was vanity, and life a dream. 
 Let Nature rest ; bo busy for yourself. 
 And for your friend ; be busy cv'n in vain. 
 Rather than tease her sated appetites. 
 AVho never fasts, no banquet e'er enjoys ; 
 Who never toils or watches, never sleeps. 
 Let Nature rest : and when the taste of joy 
 tirows keen, indulge ; but shun satiety. 
 
 'Tis not for mortals always to bo blest. 
 But him the least the dull or painful hours 
 Of life oppress, whom sober sense conducts. 
 And virtue, through this labyrinth wc tread. 
 Virtue and sense I mean not to disjoin ; 
 Virtue and sense are one : and, trust me, still 
 A faithless heart betrays the head unsound. 
 Virtue (for mere good-nature is a fool) 
 Is sense and spirit with humanity ; 
 'T is sometimes angry, and its frown confounds ; 
 'T is ov'n vindictive, but in vengeance just. 
 
 MAJBSTY OF VIBTOE. —SENSE. 
 
 Knaves fain would laugh at it ; some great ones 
 But at his heart the most undaunted son [dare ; 
 Of fortune dreads its name and awful charms. 
 To nobler uses this determines wealth ; 
 This is the solid pomp of prosperous days ; 
 The peace and shelter of adversity. 
 And if you pant for glory, build your fame 
 On this foundation, which the secret shock 
 Defies of envy and all-sapping time. 
 Tho gaudy gloss of Fortune only strikes 
 Tho vulgar eye : the suffrage of the wise. 
 The praise that 's worth ambition, is attained 
 By sense alone, and dignity of mind. 
 
 VIRTUE IS god's best GIFT. — WEALTH. — TUE END OF RICHES 
 
 Virtue, the strength and beauty of the soul. 
 Is the best gift of Heaven : a happiness 
 That even above the smiles and frowns of fate 
 £.\alts great Nature's favorites : a wealth 
 That ne'er encumbers, nor can bo transferred. 
 Riches are oft by guilt and baseness earned ; 
 Or dealt by chance to shield a lucky knave. 
 Or throw a cruel sunshine on a fool. 
 Bat for one end, one much-ucglectcd use. 
 Are riches worth your care ; for Nature's wants 
 Are few, and without opulence supplied. 
 This noble end is to produce tho soul ; 
 To show the virtues in their fairest light ; 
 To make humanity the minister 
 Of bounteous Providence ; and teach the breast 
 That generous luxury the gods ' enjoy. 
 
 Thus, in his graver vein, the friendly sago 
 Sometimes declaimed. Of right and wrong he taught 
 
 I Meaning, perhaps, ' the angels,' as the poel was not a 
 heathen. '!'• 
 
RURAL POETRY. ARMSTRONG. 
 
 Truths as refined as ever Athens heard ; 
 
 And (strange to tell '.)he practised what he preached. 
 
 Skilled in the passions, how to check their sway 
 
 He knew, as far as reason can control 
 
 The lawless powers. But other cares are mine : 
 
 Formed in the school of Paeon, I relate 
 
 What passions hurt the hody, what improve : 
 
 Avoid them, or invite them, as you may. 
 
 Know, then, whatever cheerful and serene 
 Supports the mind, supports the body too. 
 Hence, the most vital movement mortals feel 
 Is hope, the balm and life-blood of the soul. 
 It pleases and it lasts. Indulgent Heaven 
 Sent down the kind delusion, through the paths 
 Of rugged life to lead us patient on. 
 And make our happiest state no tedious thing. 
 Our greatest good, and what we least can spare. 
 Is hope : the last of all our evils, fear. 
 
 LOVB; whom it harms not. — REnSEB NiTDBES SUOCLO 
 
 But there are passions grateful to the breast. 
 And yet no friends to life : perhaps they please 
 Or to excess, and dissipate the soul ; 
 Or while they please, torment. The stubborn clown. 
 The ill-tamed ruffian and pale usurer 
 (If love's omnipotence such hearts can mould). 
 May safely mellow into love ; and grow 
 Refined, humane, and generous, if they can. 
 Love in such bosoms never to a fault 
 Or pains or pleases. But, ye finer souls, 
 Formed to soft luxury, and prompt to thrill 
 Vith all the tumults, all the joys and pains, 
 That beauty gives ; with caution and reserve 
 Indulge the sweet destroyer of repose. 
 Nor court ton mimli the iiueen nf ehnrming cares. 
 For, whilcthr.l„M.|i-l i-i .11 in >..,,! l.reast 
 
 Ferments !U1<1 li::e|.lili., -el, mhIi j. ;iImu y, 
 
 The wholesome appetites and powers of life 
 Dissolve in languor. The coy stomach loathes 
 The genial board : your cheerful days are gone ; 
 The generous bloom that flushed your cheeks is fled. 
 
 ILL CONSEQUENCES OF MDSING TO THE LOVER. 
 
 To sighs devoted and to tender pains. 
 Pensive you sit, or solitary stray. 
 And waste your youth in musing. Musing first 
 Toyed into care your unsuspecting heart : 
 It found a liking there, a sportful fire. 
 And that fomented into serious love ; 
 Which musing daily strengthens and improves 
 Through all the heights of fondness and romance ; 
 And you're undone, the fatal shaft has sped. 
 If once you doubt whether you love or no. 
 
 Sweet Heaven, from such intoxicating charms 
 
 Defend all worthy breasts ! Not that I deem 
 
 Love always dangerous, always to be shunned. 
 
 Love well repaid, and not too weakly sunk 
 
 In wanton and unmanly tenderness. 
 
 Adds bloom to health ; o'er ev'ry virtue sheds 
 
 A gay, humane, a sweet and generous grace. 
 
 And brightens all the ornaments of man. 
 
 But fruitless, hopeless, disappointed, racked 
 
 With jealousy, fatigued with hope and fear. 
 
 Too serious, or too languishingly fond. 
 
 Unnerves the body and unmans the soul. 
 
 And some have died for love ; and some run mad ; 
 
 And some with desperate hands themselves have 
 
 COKES FOR LOVE-SICKNESS. — VARIETY CONSIDERED. 
 
 Some to extinguish, others to prevent, 
 A mad devotion to one dangerous fair, 
 Court all they meet ; in hopes to dissipate 
 The cares of love amongst an hundred brides. 
 The event is doubtful : for there are who find 
 A cure in this ; there are who find it not. 
 'T is no relief, alas ! it rather galls 
 The wound, to those who are sincerely sick. 
 For while from feverish and tumultuous joys 
 The nerves grow languid, and the soul subsides, 
 The tender fancy smarts with every sting. 
 And what was love before is madness now. 
 
 LOVB. — AVOID LICENTIOUSNESS ; ITS DE- 
 
 The body wastes away ; the infected mind, 
 Dissolved in female tenderness, forgets 
 Each manly virtue, and grows dead to fame. 
 
 Is health your care, or luxury your aim. 
 Bo temperate still : when Nature bids, obey ; 
 Her wild, impatient sallies bear no curb : 
 But when the prurient habit of delight, 
 Or loose Imagination, spurs you on 
 To deeds above your strength, impute it not 
 To Nature : Nature all compulsion hates. 
 Ah ! let not luxury nor vain renown 
 Urge you to feats you well might sleep without ; 
 To make what should -be rapture a fatigue, 
 A tedious task ; nor in the wanton arms 
 Of twining Lais melt your manhood down. 
 For from the coUiquation of soft joys 
 How changed you rise ! the ghost of what you was ! 
 Languid, and melancholy, and gaunt, and wan ; 
 Your veins exhausted, and your nerves unstrung. 
 Spoiled of its balm and sprightly zest, the blood 
 Grows vapid phlegm ; along the tender nerves 
 (To each slight impulse tremblingly awake) 
 A subtle fiend, that mimics all the plagues, 
 Rapid and restless springs from part to part. 
 The blooming honors of your youth are fallen ; 
 Your vigor pines ; your vital powers decay ; 
 Diseases haunt you ; and untimely age 
 Creeps on, unsocial, impotent, and lewd. 
 Infatuate, impious epicure ! to waste 
 The stores of pleasure, cheerfulness, and health ! 
 Infatuate all who make delight their trade. 
 And coy perdition every hour pursue. 
 
455 
 
 Who pines with loTO, or in lascivious flauios 
 Consumes, is with his own consent undone ; 
 Uo chooses to bo wretched, to be mad ; 
 And warned proceeds, and wilful, to his fate. 
 But there's a passion whoso Jempestuous sway 
 Tears up each virtue pUinted in the breast, 
 And shakes to ruins proud philosophy. 
 Fi>r pale and trembling Auger rushes in. 
 With faltering speech, and eyes that wildly stare; 
 Fierce as the tiger, madder than the seas, [strength. 
 Desperate, and armed with more than mortal 
 IIow soon the calm, humane, and polished man 
 Forgets compunction, and starts up o fiend ! 
 Who pines in love, or wastes with silent cares, 
 Envy, or ignominy, or tender grief, 
 Slowly descends, and lingering, to the Shades. 
 But he whom anger stirs drops, if he dies. 
 At once, and rushes apoplectic down ; 
 Or a fierce fever hurries him to hell. 
 For, OS the body through unnumbered strings 
 Reverberates each vibration of the soul ; 
 As is the passion, such is still the pain 
 The body feels : or chronic, or acute. 
 And oft a sudden storm at once o'erpowcrs 
 The life, or gives your reason to the winds. 
 Such fates attend the rash alarm of fear. 
 And sudden grief, and rage, and joy. 
 
 TO SOME A FIT OF ASOER rSEFlL. — ll-HO SHOILD AVOID IT 
 — CACTIOSS TO THE mnrTABLB. 
 
 There are, meantime, to whom the boisterous fit 
 Is health, and only fills the sails of life. 
 For where the mind a torpid winter leads, 
 Wrajit in a body corpulent and cold. 
 And each clogged function lazily moves on, 
 A generous sully spurns the incumbent load. 
 Unlocks the breast, and gives a cordial glow. 
 But if your wrathful blood is apt to boil, 
 (Jr are your nerves too irritably strung. 
 Wave all dispute ; bo cautious if you joke ; 
 Keep Lent forever, and forswear the bowl. 
 For one rash moment sends you to the Shades, 
 Or shatters every hopeful scheme of life. 
 And gives to horror all your days to come. 
 Fate, armed with thunder, fire, and every plague. 
 That ruins, tortures, or distracts mankind. 
 And makes the happy wretched in an hour, 
 O'erwhelms you not with woes so horrible 
 As your own wrath, nor gives more sudden blows. 
 
 ADVIPB TO TUR CHOLBRIC. 
 
 While choler works, good friend, you may 1 
 
 Distrust yourself, and sleep before you fight. 
 'T is not too lato to-morrow to be brave ; 
 If honor bids, to-morrow kill or die. 
 But calm advice against a raging fit 
 Avails too little ; and it braves the power 
 Of all that over tought in prose or song. 
 To tame the fiend that sleeps a gentle Inmb, 
 And wakes a lion. Unprovoked and calm, 
 
 You reason well ; soo o«,you ought to see. 
 And wonder at the madness of mankind : 
 Seized with the common rage, yon soon forget 
 The speculations of your wiser hours. 
 
 Beset with furies of all deadly shapes. 
 Fierce and insidious, violent and slow, 
 With all that urge or luro us on to fate, 
 What refuge shall wo seek ? what arms prepare ? 
 Where reason proves too weak, or void of wiles 
 To cope with subtle or impetuous powers, 
 I would invoke new passions to your aid : 
 With indignation would e.vtinguish fear. 
 With fear or generous pity vanquish rage. 
 And love with prido ; and force to force oppose. 
 
 MUSIC A3 A PASSIOS-QCELLKR. — SATIHK OF OPEIIAS. 
 
 There is a charm, a power, that sways the breast; 
 Bids every passion revel or be still ; 
 Inspires with rage, or all your cares dissolves ; 
 Can soothe distraction, and almost despair. 
 That power is music : far beyond the stretch 
 Of those unmeaning warblers on our stage ; 
 Those clumsy heroes, those fat-headed gods. 
 Who move no passion justly, but contempt : 
 Who, like our dancers (light indeed and strong !), 
 Do wondrous feats, but never heard of grace. 
 The fault is ours ; we bear those monstrous arts ; 
 Good heaven ! we praise them ; we with loudest 
 Applaud the fool that highest lifts his heels ; [peals 
 And, with insipid show of rapture, die 
 Of idiot notes impertinently long. 
 
 TBCE MCSIC — ITS EFFECTS. —D.ITID AXD SACL. — ABIOS. 
 — ORPUECS. 
 
 But he the muse's laurel justly shares, — 
 A poet he, and touched with Heaven's own fire, — 
 Who, with bold rage or solemn pomp of sounds. 
 Inflames, exalts, and ravi-shes the soul ; 
 Now tender, plaintive, sweet almost to pain, 
 In love dissolves you ; now in sprightly strains 
 Breathes a gay rapture through your thrilling 
 
 breast ; 
 Or raelta the heart with airs divinely sad ; 
 Or wakes to horror the tremendous strings. 
 Such was the bard whoso heavenly strains of old 
 Appeased the fiend of melancholy Saul. 
 Such was, if old and heathen fame say true, 
 The man ' who bade the Theban domes ascend. 
 And tamed the savage nations with his song ; 
 And such the Thracian,« whose melodious lyre. 
 Tuned to soft woo, made all the mountains weep ; 
 Soothed oven the inexorable powers of hell. 
 And half redeemed his lost Eurydiee. 
 JIusic exalts each joy, allays each grief. 
 Expels diseases, softens every pain, 
 Subdues the rage of poison, and the plaguo ; 
 And hence the wise of ancient days adored 
 One power of physio, melody, and song. 
 
 1 Amphlon, at whose playing on the lyre the stones ol 
 Uie walls of Thebes are saiil to have taken their placet of 
 their own accord. = Orpheus, see his story, p. 435. 
 
%\\\[i{ (Dh for l^uuuvy. 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 WRITTEN JANDART, 
 
 1796, -ET. SU^, 17. 
 
 Strophe. AVrapt in joyless night and storm, 
 Fur in the frozen north, his throne 
 
 Winter holds, terrific form, 
 Nor glimmering beam of day has known. 
 
 Waiting the desired command, 
 His angry ministers, on either hand, 
 
 Shrill icy blasts, tempest, and hail, and 
 Mingle above, around, below. [snow, 
 
 Chaos delights to hear their riot loud, 
 Sees here established her perennial way ; 
 While thro' the midnight, throne-involving cloud, 
 
 A voice thus forces its resistless way ; 
 ' Seek, Powers tumultuous, dignified employ ; 
 Go, wreak your rage on man, each blissful scene 
 
 destroy ! * 
 Antistrophe. All obey, and shouts, that tear 
 
 The vaulted heavens, his mandate hail ; 
 
 They for destined joy prepare. 
 And, shadowing all, in darkness sail. 
 Lo ! the dreaded, hideous train 
 Satiate their vengeance on the prostrate main, 
 On beauteous earth, by kinder seasons drest, 
 While terror seizes every breast. 
 Now all around a dreary waste appears ; 
 
 No more the verdant prospect charms the eye, 
 
 Nature, o'erwhelmed, seems sunk in icy years ; 
 
 The child of sorrow heaves a pitying sigh. — 
 
 Yet, holding stern their course, the cheering day. 
 
 And gladness, peace, and hope, they frighten far away. 
 
 Epode. This is thy dreaded sway. 
 
 Such terrors, Winter, thine. 
 Lo ! Superstition rears her gorgon head, 
 Her glaring eyeballs shine. 
 Darting a thrilling ray, 
 And rouse to vulgar view the sheeted dead. 
 On the midnight whirlwind tost. 
 See the spectres, shadowy, pale ! 
 Heard you that feeble, hollow-sounding wail? 
 The rocking tempest howls ; their shrieks are lost. 
 Fear chills the beating heart. Each dreary pause 
 Hears the sad tale go round the village fire ; 
 ^Attention cheeks the voice. Dread silence awes 
 The mind ; while fears related fears inspire. 
 * Hark ! I hear. Sure they are near, 
 The spirits of tempestuous night ; 
 On the gale, behold them sail ! 
 Heaven preserve my aching sight ! 
 that again those peace-clad days were known. 
 When o'er our happy plains the sun's mild radiance 
 shone.' 
 
 Strophe. Let thy horrors chill their soul, 
 
 Winter, the crowd may fear thy power ; 
 
 Wisdom spurns thy mad control, 
 
 She starts not when thy tempests lower. 
 
 Maid, enlarge my opening mind, 
 
 Teach me thy pleasures and thy bliss to find; 
 
 Raise me above their hopes and foolish fear, 
 
 Who shrink when wintry storms appear. 
 
 Are there no joys but those which Spring affords? 
 
 Say, shall not Nature please on every view? 
 
 Summer prepares the loved autumnal hoards ; 
 
 But has not surly Winter charms for you ? 
 
 Canst thou not still adore that awful God, 
 
 Who midnight darkness wreathes, and pours his 
 
 storms abroad ? 
 
 Antistrophe. Calm and studious may I sit, 
 
 By the dim tapei-'s glimmering ray, 
 
 Musing on airy forms, that flit 
 
 In roused imagination's day. 
 
 Or the blooming portraits view. 
 
 By history's pencil painted, fair, yet true. 
 
 May these direct wilil T!ii;nlrtri..ri'.^ .):ii-t, 
 
 And pour instruell'i! 
 
 Display, maid, to my > i : i 
 
 FairFreedom, inhertlin Im, pIh - n i iy,_(l: 
 Paint Glory's sons, demanding ardent fight, 
 And foul barbaric ignorance dismayed. 
 Recall to view each patriot's sacred name. 
 Who fought, and, dying, swelled the loud-tongued 
 trump of Fame. 
 
 Epodk. Nor be forgot the band. 
 
 Who wisdom brought from heaven ; 
 Their praise the enduring lip of Time shall sing. 
 To minds like theirs is given 
 To bless their native land. 
 And spurn dull earth, on philosophic wing.' 
 Thus the imperial eagle soars. 
 While gazing crowds below admire. 
 He bares his broad breast to meridian fire. 
 Exerting all his cloud-surmounting powers. 
 Oft may I wander o'er poetic plains. 
 With bards of eldest time high converse hold ; 
 Oft too may Fancy's wildly-warbled strains 
 Rouse, calm, direct the passion-moulded soul. 
 Such joys for me, till when I see 
 Fair-blooming Spring bedeck the fields ; 
 Fly then Despair, and sullen Care, 
 Even gloomy Winter pleasure yields. 
 Despondency Heaven ne'er for man designed, 
 But framed each season's change to rouse and teach 
 bis mind. 
 
(L'oiiipcr's "oOlintcr (L'luniiu] 
 
 
 A. Tlic world 
 Winter. The 
 i of a winter evening comparcil with the 
 1C9. Address to Eraiing. A brown study, 
 now in the cvenlnR. The wagoner. A poor 
 ece. The rural thief. Public houses. The 
 of Iheni o.-ii-*urf(l. The farmer's daughter : 
 what she was, n I... I ', i -^Ir :,:i|.liclty of_ country 
 manners almost l-r ' ■ 
 of the country by th n 
 
 militia principallj i 
 
 transformation. Hri! ■ n i; -. i ,>....,«. ^..^ . — 
 
 of rural objects natural to nil, iiiul never to be totally ex- 
 tinguished. 
 
 THE MAIL. — THE P03TMAS AND HIS BUDGET. 
 
 Hark ! 't is the twanging Iiorn o'er yonder bridge. 
 That with its wearisome but needful length 
 Bestrides the wi-^.try flood, in which the moon 
 Sees her unwrinklcd face reflected bright ; — 
 lie comes, the herald of a noisy world, [looks ; 
 
 With spattered boots, strapped waist, and frozen 
 News from all nations lumbering at his back. 
 True to his charge, the close-packed load behind, 
 Yet careless what ho brings, his one ooncern 
 Is to conduct it to the destined inn ; 
 And, having dropped the expected bag, pass on. 
 lie whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch. 
 Cold and yet cheerful : messenger of grief 
 Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some ; 
 To hun indifferent whether grief or joy. 
 Houses in oshes, and the fall of stocks. 
 Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet 
 With tears, that trickled down the writer's cheeks 
 Fast as the periods from his fluent quill, 
 Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains. 
 Or nymphs responsive, equally affect 
 His horse and him, unconscious of them all. 
 
 ' THE SEWS,' FORBIOS AND DOMESTIC. 
 
 But, 0, the important budget ! ushered in 
 With such heart-shaking music, who can say 
 What are its tidings? have our troops awaked? 
 Or do they still, as if with opium drugged. 
 Snore to the murmurs of the Atlantic wave? 
 la India free? and does she wear her plumed 
 And jewelled turban with a smilo of peace, 
 Or do we grind her still ? The grand debate. 
 The popular harangue, the tort reply. 
 The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit. 
 And the loud langh — I long to know them all ; 
 I burn to sot the imprisoned wranglers free, 
 And give them voice and utterance once again. 
 
 Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, 
 
 Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round. 
 
 And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn 
 
 Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, 
 
 That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each. 
 
 So let us welcome peaceful evening in. 
 
 Not such his evening, who with shining face 
 
 Sweats in the crowded theatre, and, s<iueczcd 
 
 And bored with elbow-points through both his sides, 
 
 Outscolds the ranting actor on the stage : 
 
 Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb, 
 
 And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath 
 
 Of patriots, bursting with heroic rage. 
 
 Or placemen, all tranquillity and smiles. 
 
 Tliis folio of four pages, happy work ! 
 ' Which not oven critics criticize ; that holds 
 Inquisitive attention, while I read. 
 Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fair, 
 Though eloquent themselves, yet fear to break ; 
 What is it, but a map of busy life. 
 Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns ? 
 Hero runs the mountainous and craggy ridge 
 That tempts ambition. 
 
 THE POLITICAL ASPIBAST. — THE SUPPLE 
 
 The seals of oflico glitter in his eyes ; 
 
 Ho climbs, ho pants, ho grasps them ! At his hee 
 
 Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends. 
 
 And with a dexterous jerk soon twists him down, 
 
 And wins them, but to lose them in his turn. 
 
 THE POLITICIAS'S MOCK MODESTY. 
 
 Here rills of oily eloquence in soft 
 Meanders lubricate the course they take ; 
 The modest speaker is ashamed and grieved 
 To engross a moment's notice ; and yet begs. 
 Begs a propitious ear for his poor thoughts, 
 However trivial all that ho conceives. 
 Sweet boshfulncss ! it claims at least this praise ; 
 The dearth of information and good sense. 
 That it foretells us, always come to pass. 
 
 VAIUED CO.\TBXre OP ' 
 
 Cataracts of declamation thunder hero ; 
 There forests of no meaning spread the page. 
 In which all comprehension wanders lost ; 
 While fields of pleasantry amuse us there 
 With merry descants on a nation's woes. 
 
 I The rest appears a wilderness of strange 
 But gay confusion ; roses for the cheeks, 
 
 j And lilies for the brows, of faded ago ; 
 
458 
 
 RURAL POETRY. COWPER. 
 
 Teeth for the toothless, ringleta for the bald, 
 
 Heaven, earth, and ocean, plundered of their sweets, 
 
 Nectareous essences, Olympian dews. 
 
 Sermons, and city fuasts, and favorite airs. 
 
 Ethereal journeys, submarine exploits. 
 
 And Katerfelto,' with his hair on end 
 
 At his own wonders, wondering for his bread. 
 
 A PEEP AT THE WOHLD FBOM THE LOOP-HOLES OF A COUNTRY 
 RETREAT. 
 
 'Tis pleasant through the loop-holes of retreat 
 To peep at such a world ; to see the stir 
 Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd ; 
 To hear the roar she sends through all her gates 
 At a safe distance, where the dying sound 
 Falls a soft murmur on the uninjured ear. 
 Thus sitting, and surveying thus at ease 
 The globe and its concerns, I seem advanced 
 To some secure and more than mortal height. 
 That liberates and exempts me from them all. 
 
 I""™^''" ■". turns round 
 
 Withallite -..i,.i ,in„.- : I i„.|„,id 
 The tumult, and am still. The sound of war 
 Has lost its terrors ere it reaches me ; 
 Grieves, but alarms me not. I mourn the prid 
 And avarice, that make man a wolf to man ; 
 Hear the faint echo of those brazen throats. 
 By which he speaks the language of his heart. 
 And sigh, but never tremble at the sound. 
 
 VOVAGES AND TRAVELS AT HOME. 
 
 He travels and expatiates, as the bee 
 From flower to flower, so he from land to land ; 
 The manners, customs, policy, of all 
 Pay contribution to the store he gleans ; 
 He sucks intelligence in every clime. 
 And spreads the honey of his deep research 
 At his return — a rich repast for me. 
 He travels, and I too. I tread his deck, 
 Ascend his topmast, through his peering eyes 
 Discover countries, with a kindred heart 
 Suffer his woes, and share in his escapes ; 
 While fancy, like the finger of a clock, 
 Runs the great circuit, and is still at home. 
 
 nverted year, 
 
 APOSTROPHE 
 
 Winter, ruler of the 
 Thy scattered hair with sleet-like ashes filled, 
 Thy breath congealed upon thy lips, thy cheeks 
 Fringed with a beard made white with other snows 
 Than those of age, thy forehead wrapped in clouds, 
 A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne 
 A sliding car, indebted to no wheels. 
 But urged by storms along its slippery way, — 
 I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st, 
 And dreaded as thou art ! 
 
 HOME PLEASURES ; WIN- 
 TER EVENINGS. 
 
 Thou hold'st the sun 
 A prisoner in the yet undawning east, 
 
 1 A famous juggler and oocjurer of the day. 
 
 Shortening his journey between morn and noon. 
 And hurrying him, impatient of his stay, 
 Down to the rosy west ; but kindly still 
 Compensating his loss with added hours 
 Of social converse and instructive ease. 
 And gathering, at short notice, in one group, 
 The family dispersed, and fixing thought, 
 Not les.s dispersed by daylight and its cares. 
 I crown thee king of intimate delights, 
 Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness. 
 And all the comforts that the lowly roof 
 Of undisturbed retirement, and the hours 
 Of long-uninterrupted evening, know. 
 
 No rattling wheels stop short before these gates ; 
 No powdered, pert proficient in the art 
 Of sounding an alarm assaults these doors 
 Till the street rings ; no stationary steeds 
 Cough their own knell, while, heedless of the sound, 
 The silent circle fan themselves, and quake : 
 
 NEEDLE-WORK. 
 
 But here the needle plies its busy task, 
 The pattern grows, the well-depicted fiowcr, 
 Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn. 
 Unfolds its bosom ; buds, and leaves, and sprigs, 
 And curling tendrils, gracefully disposed. 
 Follow the nimble finger of the fair ; 
 A wreath that cannot fade, or flowers that blow 
 With most success when all besides decay. 
 
 READING ALOUD To THE FAMILY CIRCLE ; MUSIC. 
 
 The poet's or historian's page by one 
 Made vocal for the amusement of the rest ; 
 The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet sound 
 The touch from many a trembling chord sliakes out; 
 And the clear voice symphonious, yet distinct. 
 And in the charming strife triumphant still ; 
 Beguile the night, and set a keener edge 
 On female industry : the threaded steel 
 Flies swiftly, and unfelt the task proceeds. 
 
 THE RURAL SUPPER. 
 
 The volume closed, the customary rites 
 Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal ; 
 Such as the mistress of the world once found 
 Delicious, when her patriots of high note. 
 Perhaps by moonlight, at their humble doors, 
 And under an old oak's domestic shade. 
 Enjoyed, spare feast ! a radish and an egg. 
 
 FAMILY CONVERSATION 
 
 Disoouri 
 Nor such as with a frown forbids the play 
 Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirtli : 
 Nor do we madly, like an impious world. 
 Who deem religion frenzy, and the God 
 That made them an intruder on their joys. 
 Start at His awful name, or deem His praise 
 A jarring note. 
 
 CHASTENED ] 
 
 not ti-ivial, yet not du 
 
WINTKR — JANUARY. 
 
 459 
 
 PRO^DKSCIS — BSPKCIALLT IS OUR SrlRlTlAL PBOORBSS, 
 
 Thcmos of ft graver tone, 
 Exciting oft our gratitude and lovo, 
 Wliilo wo rotraoo with Memory's pointing wand, 
 Tlint calls the past to our exact review, 
 The dangers wo liavo 'scaped, the broken snare, 
 The disappointed foe, deliverance found 
 Uulookcd for, life preserved, and peace restored. 
 Fruits of omnipotent, eternal Lovo. 
 evenings worthy of the gods ! exclaimed 
 The Sabine hard. evenings, I reply, 
 More to be priicd and coveted than yours, 
 As more illumined, and with nobler truths, 
 That I, and mine, and those we love, enjoy. 
 
 TUB TBEATRB SOT SBCBS3ART TO 
 
 Is Winter hideous in a garb like this? 
 Needs ho llio tnviiio fur, the smoke of lamps. 
 The i..i.t.n,. M. nh n, ;,„ unsavory throng, 
 Xi> tliau ' II I 1 ! ^ ; or the smart 
 And sii.ii |i. ii ii ' -'■" 'I'll flippant wits 
 Call cuuiLa.v, ii. 1.1..U11.L Lua with a smile? 
 The self-complaCBut actor, when he views 
 (Stealing a sidelong glance at a full house) 
 The slope of faces from the floor to the roof 
 (As if one master-spring controlled them all), 
 Ilclaxed into a universal grin, 
 Sees not a countonanco there that speaks of joy 
 Ualf so refined or so sincere as ours. 
 
 CARDS raSECESSABT. — TUB Wl.NCS OF TIME. 
 
 Cards were superfluous here, with all the tricks 
 That idleness has ever yet contrived 
 To fill the void of an unfurnished brain. 
 To palliate dulness, and give time a shove. 
 Time, as he passes us, has a dove's wing, 
 Unsoilcd, and swift, and of a silken sound ; 
 But the world's time is time in masquerade ! 
 Theirs, should I paint him, has his pinions fledged 
 With motley plumes ; and, whore the peacock shows 
 His azure eyes, is tinctured black and red 
 With spots quadrangular of diamond form. 
 Ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife. 
 And spades, the emblem of untimely graves. 
 
 But truce with censure, lloving as I rove. 
 Where shall I find an end, or how proceed? 
 
 FASniOSADI-R rOLUES. — A SIMILE. 
 
 As ho that travels far oft turns aside 
 To view some rugged rock or mouldering tower. 
 Which seen delights him not ; then coming homo 
 Describes and prints it, that the world may know 
 How far ho went for what was nothing worth ; 
 So I, with brush in hand and palette spread. 
 With colors mixed for a far different use, 
 Paint cards, and dolls, and every idle thing. 
 That fancy finds in her excursive flights. 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE APOSTROPHE TO EVESl.VO. — THE BVBSISG STAR. 
 
 Come, Evening, once again, season of peace ! 
 Return, sweet Evening, and continue long ! 
 Mothinks I see thee in the streaky west, 
 With matron sU'j. sl.iw muviii^', while the Night 
 Treads on tliv m < i i - <'■'■•< . ""c hand employed 
 In letting lali i ' n ["■^'e 
 
 On bird aii.l l.i ,i : , i . ' )i:ir-cd for man 
 
 With sweet ..L.ln i iii> >-"t'-^ of Jay : 
 
 Not sumptuously adorned, not needing aid. 
 Like homely-featured Night, of clustering gems ; 
 A star or two, just twinkling on thy brow, 
 Suflices thee ; save that the moon is thine 
 No less than hers, not worn indeed on high 
 With ostentatious pageantry, but set 
 With modest grandeur in thy purple zone. 
 Resplendent less, but of an ampler round. 
 
 KASIIIOX. 
 
 What should be and what was an hour-glass one 
 Becomes a dice-box, and a billiard-mace 
 Well docs the work of his destructive scythe. 
 Thus decked, ho charms a world whom fashi( 
 
 blinds 
 To his true worth, most pleased when idle most ; 
 Whoso only happy are their wasted hours. 
 
 TUB PRBCOCIOCliLY PASniOSABLB MISS. 
 
 Even misses, at whose age their mothers wore 
 The baokstring and the bib, assume the dress 
 Of womanhood, fit pupils in the school 
 Of card-devoted time ; and night by night. 
 Placed at some vacant corner of the board. 
 Learn every trick, and soon play all the game. 
 
 CALM COMPOSCRE 
 
 VENING. — TUB 
 
 Come, then, and thou shalt find thy votary culm. 
 Or make me so. Composure is thy gift : 
 And, whether I devote thy gentle hours 
 To books, to music, or the poet's toil, 
 To weaving nets for bird-alluring fruit, 
 Or twining silken threads round ivory reels. 
 When they command whom man was born to please, 
 I slight thee not, but make thee welcome still. 
 
 Just when our drawing-rooms begin to bla/.o 
 With lights, by clear reflection multiplied 
 From many a mirror, in which ho of Oath, 
 Goliah, might have seen his giant bulk 
 Whole without stooping, towering crest and all, 
 Aly pleasures too begin. 
 
 PARLOR TWILICUT. — VISIONS IS TOE EMBERS ) SIGNS OS TIW 
 
 But me perhaps 
 The glowing hearth may satisfy a while 
 With faint illumination, that uplifts 
 The shadows to the ceiling, there by fits 
 Dancing unoouthly to the quivering flame. 
 Not undelightful is an hour to mo 
 So spent in parlor twilight : such a gloom 
 Suits well the thoughtful or unthinking mind, 
 Tho mind contemplative, with some new theme 
 Pregnant, or indisposed alike to all. 
 Laugh ye, who boast your more mercurial powers, 
 
■*"" • RURAL POETRY. 
 
 That never felt a stupor, know no pause, 
 
 Nor need one ; I am conscious, and confess, 
 
 Fearless, a soul that does not always think. 
 
 Me oft has fancy ludicrous and wild 
 
 Soothed with a waking dream of houses, towers, 
 
 Trees, churches, and strange visages, expressed 
 
 In the red cinders, while with poring eye 
 
 I gazed, myself creating what I saw. 
 
 Nor less amused have I quiescent watched 
 
 The sooty films, that play upon the bars 
 
 Pendulous, and foreboding in the view 
 
 Of superstition, prophesying still, [proach. 
 
 Though still deceived, some stranger's near ap- 
 
 'T is thus the understanding takes repose 
 In indolent vacuity of thought. 
 And sleeps, and is refreshed. Meanwhile the face 
 Conceals the mood lethargic with a mask 
 Of deep deliberation, as the man 
 Wore tasked to his full strength, absorbed and lost. 
 Thus oft, reclined at ease, I lose an hour 
 At evening, till at length the freezing blast. 
 That sweeps the bolted shutter, summons home 
 The recollected powers ; and snapping short 
 The glassy threads with which the fancy weaves 
 Her brittle toils, restores me to myself. 
 
 How calm is my recess, and how the frost, 
 Raging abroad, and the rough wind, endear 
 The silence and the warmth enjoyed within ! 
 I saw the woods and fields at close of day 
 A variegated show ; the meadows green. 
 Though faded ; and the lands, where lately waved 
 The golden harvest, of a mellow brown. 
 Upturned so lately by the forceful share. 
 I saw far ofl' the weedy fallows smile 
 With verdure not unprofitable, grazed 
 By flocks, fast feeding, and selecting each 
 His favorite herb ; while all the leafless groves 
 That skirt the horizon wore a sable hue. 
 Scarce noticed in the kindred dusk of eve. 
 
 To-morrow brill- ,i in,-.. ,, t-ital change ! 
 Which even n. TO-, I'rii-li -iImiiIi i.crformed, 
 And slowly, and !.> iii.i.,i mUcli, the face 
 Of universal nature undergoes. 
 Fast falls a fleecy shower : the downy fl.xkes 
 Descending, and with never-ceasing lapse. 
 Softly alighting upon all below. 
 Assimilate all objects. Earth receives 
 Gladly the thickening mantle ; and the green 
 And tender blade, that feared the chilling blast. 
 Escapes unhurt beneath so warm a veil. 
 
 It seems the part of wisdom, and no sin 
 Against the law of love, to measure lots 
 With less distinguished than ourselves ; that thu 
 ■\\'u may with patience bear our moderate ills. 
 And sympathize with others sufiering more. 
 
 [ 111 fares the traveller now, and he that stalks 
 In ponderous boots beside his reeking team. 
 The wain goes heavily, impeded sore 
 By congregated loads adhering close 
 To the clogged wheels ; and in its sluggish pace 
 Noi.seless appears a moving hill of snow. 
 The toiling steeds expand the nostril wide. 
 While every breath, by respiration strong 
 Forced downward, is consolidated soon 
 Upon their jutting chests. 
 
 THE TEAMSTER ; BLEST WITH HARDUIOOD. 
 
 He, formed to bear 
 The pelting brunt of the tempestuous night. 
 With half-shut eyes, and puckered cheeks, and teeth 
 Presented bare against the storm, plods on. 
 One hand secures his hat, save when with both 
 He brandishes his pliant length of whip. 
 Resounding oft, and never heard in vain. 
 happy ! and in my account denied 
 That sensibility of pain, with which 
 Refinement is endued, thrice happy thou ! 
 Thy frame, robust and hardy, feels indeed 
 The piercing cold, but feels it unimpaired. 
 The learned finger never need e.xplore 
 Thy vigorous pulse ; and the uuhealthful East, 
 That breathes the spleen, and searches every bore 
 Of the infirm, is wholesome air to thee. 
 
 PATIENCE J 
 
 In such a world, so thorny, and where none 
 Finds happiness unblighted ; or, if found. 
 Without some thistly sorrow at his side ; 
 
 TO TEAMS IN WINTER. 
 
 Thy days roll on exempt from household care ; 
 Thy wagon is thy wife ; and the poor beasts. 
 That drag the dull companion to and fro. 
 Thine helpless charge, dependent on thy care, 
 Ah, treat them kindly ! rude as thou appear'st, 
 Yet show that thou hast mercy ! which the great. 
 With needless hurry whirled from pL-ice to place. 
 Humane as they would seem, not always show. 
 
 THE COTTAGE LABORERS IN WINTER. — THEIR SCANTY FCEL. 
 
 Poor, yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat. 
 Such claim compassion in a night like this, 
 And have a friend in every feeling heart. 
 Warmed, while it lasts, by labor, all d.ay long 
 They brave the season, and yet find at eve, 
 111 clad and fed but sparely, time to cool. 
 I The frugal housewife trembles when she lights 
 Her scanty stock of brushwood, blaziug clear. 
 But dying soon, like all terrestrial joys. 
 j The few small embers left she nurses well ; 
 j And, while her infant race, with outspread hands, 
 j And crowded knees, sit cowering o'er the sparks, 
 ' Retires, content to quake, so they be warmed. 
 The man feels least, as more inured than she 
 I To Winter, and the current in his veins 
 
WINTER — JANUARY. 
 
 461 
 
 More briskly movod by his severer toil ; 
 I Yet ho too finda his own distress ia theirs. 
 
 8CASTT Lionrs AXD SCASTT »ABE OP THE nOSltST lOOR. - 
 TllBlR KSSPECTIUILITY. 
 
 The taper soon extinguished, which I saw 
 Dangled along at the cold finger's end 
 .Tust when the day declined ; and the brown loaf 
 Lodged on the shelf, half-etttcn without sauce 
 
 (If savory clioosp, or butter, costlier still ; 
 Slrr|. -I. Ill- tlicir only refuge : for, alas ! 
 W ii.iv iHuurv i- felt the thought is chained, 
 An.l suout o.llM.|uial pleasures are but few. 
 With all this thrift they thrive not. All the care 
 Ingenious parsimony takes but just 
 Saves the small inventory, bed, and stool. 
 Skillet, and ..Id ciivvr.l .-host. frn,„ public sale. 
 They lix.-. :.n.l li^.' uitli..ut rxt..rl.>.l :ilms 
 From grw.l-...:,' I.;.n.l- ; l.iii ..1I..1 L.'^ist have nunc 
 To sootlK- lluir h.iiK.-t pri.l.. that f.v.rns to beg, 
 Nor comfort else, but in their nmtual love. 
 
 paiSOK CBIMISAL3 iSD 
 
 ixDrs 
 
 t pair, 
 
 vrned 
 
 I praise you mmli, >. 1 
 
 For ye are worthy : 
 
 A dry but indcpii. i ' 
 
 And eaten with a ti^h, u. 
 1 The rugged frowns and insolent rebuffs 
 
 Of knaves in office, partial in the work 
 
 Of distribution ; liberal of their aid 
 
 To clamorous importunity in rags, 
 I Uut ofttimes deaf to suppliants who would blush 
 ' To wear a tattered garb, however coarse, 
 
 ^Vli.iin famine cannot reconcile to fdth : 
 
 'I'hi-i' ask uilh painful shyness, and, refused 
 11. .aus.' .h SI r\ ing, silently retire ! 
 
 But be ye of good courage ! Time itself 
 Shall much befriend you. Time shall give increa 
 And all your numerous progeny, well trained 
 But helpless, in few years shall find their bauds, 
 And labor too. Meanwhile yo shall not want 
 What, conscious of your virtues, we can spare. 
 Nor what a wealthier than ourselves may send. 
 I mean the man who, when the distant poor 
 Need help, denies them nothing but his name. 
 
 BECOJBV .( 
 
 But poverty with most, who whimper forth 
 Their long complaints, is self-inflicted woe ; 
 The effect of laziness or sottish waste. 
 Now goes the nightly thief prowling abroad 
 For plunder ; much solicitous how best 
 He may compensate for a day of sloth 
 By works of darkness and nocturnal wrong. 
 
 STEALING FRriT. 
 
 Woe to the gardener's pale, the farmer's hedge, 
 Plashed neatly, and secured with driven stakes 
 Deep in the loamy bank. Uptorn by strength. 
 Resistless in so bad a cause, but lame 
 
 To better deeds, he bundles up the spoil. 
 An ass's burden, and, when laden most 
 And heaviest, light of foot steals fast away. 
 Nor does the boarded hovel better guard 
 The well-stacked pile of riven logs and roots 
 From his pernicious force. 
 
 BOBDISO OP HES-BOOSTS. 
 
 Nor will ho leave 
 I'nwrenched the door, however well secured, 
 W here Cli.mtieleer amidst his harem sleeps 
 In unsuspecting pomp. Twitched from the perch, 
 He gives the princely bird, with all his wives. 
 To his voracious bag, struggling in vain. 
 And loudly wondering at tho suddon change. 
 
 ISTEMPKBiSCB, TOE CBCEL CfBSB. 
 
 Nor this to feed his own. 'T were some excuse, 
 Did pity of their sufferings warp aside 
 llis principle, and tempt him into sin 
 
 For their suii|H ... t. 'Itii. . But they 
 Neglected pi..' - ' ' ■■ 1 :i:-. Ives, as more 
 
 Exposed tha .- . I mplemade 
 
 His victims i.!'" I 'I ''" " -l.l.'noclcss all. 
 Cruel is all he dues. 'T is ^ucnchle8s thirst 
 Of ruinous ebriety that prompts 
 Uis every action, and imbrutes the man. 
 i 0, for a law to noose tho villain's neck, 
 1 Who starves his own ; who persecutes the blood 
 1 He gave them in his children's veins, and hates 
 And wrongs the woman ho has sworn to love ! 
 
 LICBSSED DKAM-SUOPS. 
 
 ] Pass where we may, through city or through town 
 ! Village or hamlet of this merry land, 
 i Though lean and beggared, every twentieth pace 
 ' Conducts the unguarded nose to such a whilf 
 Of stale debauch, forth issuing from the styes 
 That law has licensed, as makes temperance reel. 
 
 There sit, involved and lost in curling clouds 
 Of Indian fume, and guzzling deep, the boor. 
 The Inokey, nn<l tho groom : the craftsman there 
 
 : all 1 
 
 Si,,,, I : ,,,1, he that plies the shears, 
 
 \ii i I.. ; : ,■ I . i- tho dough ; all loud alike, 
 \]] I. I ,.. i, ,! , 1 .ill .Irunk ! the fiddle screams 
 Plaintive and pite"us, as it wept and wailed 
 Its wasted tones and harmony unheard : 
 Fierce the dispute, whatc'er the theme ; while she. 
 Fell Discord, arbitress of such debate. 
 Perched on the sign-post, holds with even hand 
 Her undecisive scales. In this she lays 
 A weight of ignorance ; in that, of pride ; 
 And smiles delighted with the eternal poise. 
 Dire is the frequent curse, and its twin sound. 
 The cheek-distending oath, not to bo praised 
 As ornamental, musical, polite. 
 Like those which modern senators employ. 
 Whose oath is rhetoric, and who swear for famo • 
 
RURAL POETRY. — COWPER. 
 
 Behold the schools i 
 Once simple, are inili; 
 AVhich some nuiy |.i;m 
 
 The road that Itad^ iVum cuuiiKteuce am 
 To indigence and rapine ; till at last 
 Society, grown weary of the load, 
 Shakes her encumbered lap, and casts th 
 
 ABB SCHOOLS. , For more than half the tresses it sustains ; 
 
 ■vhich plebeian minds, Her elbows ruffled, and her tottering form 
 
 il ill ;i]t.s 111 propped upon French heels; she might be deemed 
 
 \\\\\\ pi 'liter grace, 1 (l^ut that the basket dangling on her arm 
 
 ill I — t id here they learn Interprets her more truly) of a rank 
 
 cuuipctence and peace Too proud for dairy-work, or sale of eggs. 
 
 I Expect her soon with foot-boy at her heels, 
 
 j No longer blushing for her awkward load, 
 
 I Her train and her umbrella all her care ! 
 
 But censure profits little : vain the attempt 
 To advertise in verse a public pest, 
 That, like the filth with which the peasant feeds 
 His hungry acres, stinks, and is of use. 
 The excise is fattened with the rich result 
 Of all this riot ; and ten thousand casks, 
 Forever dribbling out their base contents. 
 Touched by the Midas finger of the state. 
 Bleed gold for ministers to sport away. 
 Drink, and be mad, then ; 't is your country bids ! 
 Gloriously drunk obey the important call ! 
 Her cause demands the assistance of your throats; - 
 Ye all can swallow, and she asks no more. 
 
 Would I had fallen upon those happier days. 
 That poets celebrate ; those golden times. 
 And those Arcadian scenes that Maro sings, 
 And Sidney, warbler of poetic prose ! 
 Nymphs were Dianas then, and swains had hearts 
 That felt their virtues : innocence, it seems, 
 From courts dismissed, found shelter in the groves; 
 The footsteps of simplicity, impressed 
 Upon the yielding herbage (so they sing). 
 Then were not all effaced : then speech profane. 
 And manners profligate, were rarely found. 
 Observed as prodigies, and soon reclaimed. 
 
 THE GOLDEN . 
 
 Vain wish ! those days were never : airy dreams 
 Sat for the picture : and the poet's hand, 
 Imparting substance to an empty shade, 
 Imposed a gay delirium for a truth. 
 Grant it : I still must envy them an age. 
 That favored such a dream ; in days like these 
 Impossible, when virtue is so scarce, 
 That to suppose a scene where she presides 
 Is tramontane, and stumbles all belief. 
 
 No : we are polished now. The rural lass. 
 Whom once her virgin modesty and grace, 
 Her artless manners, and her neat attire. 
 So dignified, that she was hardly less 
 Thau the fair shepherdess of old romance, 
 Is seen no more. The character is lost ! 
 Her head, adorned with lappets pinned aloft, 
 Aud ribands streaming gay, superbly raised. 
 And magnified beyond all human size. 
 Indebted to some smart wig-weaver's hand 
 
 THE TOWN HAS STAINED THE COUNTRY. — FASHION HAS 
 
 The town has tinged the country ; and the stain 
 Appears a spot upon a vestal's robe. 
 The worse for what it soils. The fashion runs 
 Down into scenes still rural ; but, alas ! 
 Scenes rarely graced with rural manners now ! 
 Time was when in the pastoral retreat 
 The unguarded door was safe ; men did not watch 
 To invade another's right, or guard their own. 
 Then sleep was undisturbed by fear, unscared 
 By drunken bowlings ; and the chilling tale 
 Of midnight murder was a wonder heard 
 With doubtful credit, told to frighten babes. 
 
 THE SECCRITY OF THE COUNTRY HAS CEASED. 
 
 But farewell now to unsuspicious nights. 
 And slumbers unalarmed ! Now, ere you sleep, 
 See that your polished arms be primed with care, 
 And drop the night-bolt ; — ruflBans are abroad. 
 And the first larum of the cock's shrill throat 
 May prove a truiupct, siiuiiiiDning your ear 
 To horriil--<.iini|- -I li.-i ]]<■ feet within. 
 Even daylij lit li:i- it- ^hin-crs ; and the walk 
 Through p;nhlr,-^ u;(-tr> ;iint woods, 
 Of other tenants than melodious birds, 
 Or harmless flocks, is hazardous and bold. 
 
 Lamented change ! to which full many a cause 
 Inveterate, hopeless of a cure, conspires. 
 The course of human things from good to ill. 
 From ill to worse, is fatal, never fails. 
 Increase of power begets increase of wealth ; 
 Wealth luxury, and luxury excess ; 
 Excess, the scrofulous and itchy plague. 
 That seizes first the opulent, descends 
 To the next rank contagious, and in time 
 Taints downward all the graduated scale 
 Of order, from the chariot to the plough. 
 
 THE RTCU DESERT THEIR DUTY FOB PLEASURE. 
 
 The rich, and they that have an arm to check 
 The license of the lowest in degree. 
 Desert their oflace ; and themselves, intent 
 On pleasure, haunt the capital, and thus 
 To all the violence of lawless hands 
 Resign the scenes their presence might protect. 
 Authority herself not seldom sleeps, 
 Though resident, and witness of the wrong. 
 
 [ OF SOME OF THE CLERG 
 
 inp convivial parson often bears 
 
WINTER — JANUARY. 
 
 463 
 
 Tho magisterial sword in vain, and lays 
 
 His rovoronce and his worship both to rest 
 
 On tUo same cushion of habitual sloth. 
 
 Perhaps timidity restrains his arm ; 
 
 When he should strike ho trembles, and sets free, 
 
 Himself enslaved by terror of the band, 
 
 Tho audacious convict, whom ho dares not bind. 
 
 Perhaps, though by i)rofession ghostly pure. 
 
 Ho too may have his vice, and sometimes prove 
 
 Less dainty than becomes his grave outride 
 
 In lucrative concerns. Examine well 
 
 His milk-white hand ; the palm is hardly clean — 
 
 But hero and there an ugly smutch appears. 
 
 Fob ! 't was a bribe that loft it : he has touched 
 
 Corruption. Whoso seeks an audit hero 
 
 Propitious, pays his tribute, game or fish, 
 
 Wild fowl or venison ; and his errand speeds. 
 
 SPMIIT A CCBSB. 
 
 ; BOSTIO RECBIOT. 
 
 But faster far, and more than all tho rest, 
 A noble cause, which none, who bears a spark 
 Of public virtue, ever wished removed, 
 Works the deplored and mischievous effect. 
 'T is universal soldiership has stabbed 
 The heart of merit in tho meaner class. 
 Arms, through the vanity and brainless rage 
 Of those that bear them, in whatever cause, 
 Seem most at variance with all moral good, 
 And incompatible with serious thought. 
 The clown, the child of nature, without guile, 
 Blessed with an infant's ignorance of all 
 But his own simple pleasures ; now and then 
 A wrestling match, a foot-race, or a fair ; 
 Is ballotted, and trembles at the news : 
 Sheepish he doifs his hat, and mumbling swears 
 A Bible-oath to be whate'er they please. 
 To do he knows not what. The task performed. 
 That instant he becomes the sergeant's care, 
 His pupil, and his torment, and his jest. 
 His awkward gait, bis introverted toes. 
 Bent knees, round shoulders, ond dejected looks. 
 Procure him many a curse. 
 
 THE CLOWN Tl-BSED SOLDIEB. 
 
 By slow degrees. 
 Unapt to learn, and formed of stubborn stuff, 
 He yet by slow degrees puts off himself. 
 Grows conscious of a change, and likes it well : 
 He stands erect ; his slouch becomes a walk ; 
 He steps right onward, martial in his air. 
 His form and movement ; is as smart above 
 As meal and larded locks can make him ; wears 
 His hat, or his plumed helmet, with a grace ; 
 And, his three years of heroship expired, 
 Kcturns indignant to the slighted plough. 
 He hates the field in which no fife or drum 
 Attends him ; drives his cattle to a march ; 
 And sighs for tho smart comrades ho has left. 
 'T were well if his exterior change were all — 
 But with his clumsy port tho wretch has lost 
 His ignorance and 1 
 
 To swear, to game, to drink ; to show at home. 
 By lewdness, idleness, and Sabbath-broach, 
 The great proficiency he made abroad ; 
 To astonish and to grieve his gazing friends ; 
 To break somo maiden's and his mother's heart ; 
 To ho a pest where ho was useful once ; 
 Are bis sole aim, and all his glory, now. 
 
 MAS IS TUB FAMILV AND IS TUB ABUY. — A SIMILB. 
 
 Man in society is like a flower 
 Blown in its native bed : 't is there alono 
 His faculties, expanded in full bloom. 
 Shine out ; there only reach tlieir proper use. 
 But man, associated and leagued with man 
 By regal warrant, or self-joined by bond 
 For interest's sake, or swarming into elans 
 Beneath one bead, for purposcji of war. 
 Like flowers selected from tho rest, and bound 
 And bundled close to fill some crowded vase, 
 Fades rapidly, and, by compression marred. 
 Contracts defilement not to bo endured. 
 
 COBPORATIOSS N<iT Sn r,.N-,^riKS TtOfS AS INDIVlDfALS. — 
 
 Hence ch; 
 And burglu 
 In all their 
 Become a l 
 For dissolui 
 
 -lu-h public plagues; 
 ni-e combined. 
 
 Against the olmnii.-.-. ..1 .I.Miii>ii>i life. 
 Incorporated seem at once to lose 
 Their nature ; and, disclaiming all regard 
 For mercy and the common rights of man. 
 Build factories with blood, conducting trade 
 At the sword's point, and dying tho white robo 
 Of innocent commercial justice red. 
 
 raE FIELD OF CLOBV A SCHOOL. 
 
 Hence too the field of glory, as the world 
 Misdeems it, dazzled by its bright array. 
 With all it-< iinij. =ty , ft'iu.,-!. lin- pomp, 
 Enchantin'; nil, i ii,i i n i iil wreath.^. 
 Is but a sell! ■ ' ill --iiess is taught 
 
 On principle-. ^'Jnii iij-jni^ jtuni-s 
 For folly, galhiiitry lor c\ery vice. 
 
 THE COUSTBV, WITH ALL ITS DRAWBACKS, S 
 
 But slighted as it is, and by the great 
 Abandoned, and, which I still more regret. 
 Infected with the manners and the modes 
 It know not once, the country wins mo still. 
 I never framed a wish, or formed a plan, 
 That flattered me with hopes of earthly bliss. 
 But there I laid the scene. There early strayed 
 My fancy, ere yet liberty of choice 
 Had found me, or the hope of being free. 
 
 CHARMS OF RCRAL POETRY. — VIRGIl's ECLOOCKS. — MIl.TO 
 
 My very dreams were rural ; rural too 
 The first-born efforts of my youthful muse. 
 Sportive and jingling her poetic bells, 
 
RURAL POETRY. ■ 
 
 Ere yet her ear was mistress of their powers. 
 
 No bard could please me but whose lyre was tuned 
 
 To Nature's praises. Heroes and their feats 
 
 Fatigued me, never weary of the pipe 
 
 Of Tityrus,' assembling, as he sang. 
 
 The rustic throng beneath his favorite beech. 
 
 Then Milton had indeed a poet's charms : 
 
 New to my taste, his Paradise surpassed 
 
 The struggling efforts of my boyish tongue 
 
 To speak its excellence. I danced for joy. 
 
 I marvelled much that, at so ripe an age 
 
 As twice seven years, his beauties had then first 
 
 Engaged my wonder ; and admiring still. 
 
 And still admiring, with regret supposed 
 
 The joy half lost, because not sooner found. 
 
 COWLEY. — OHEKTSBT PLACE. 
 
 There too, enamored of the life I loved. 
 Pathetic in its praise, in its pursuit 
 Determined, and possessing it at last 
 With transports such as favored lovers feel , 
 I studied, prized, and wished that I had known. 
 Ingenious Cowley ! and, though now reclaimed 
 By modern lights from an erroneous taste, 
 I cannot but lament thy splendid wit 
 Entangled in the cobwebs of the schools. 
 I still revere thee, courtly though retired ! 
 Though stretched at ease in Chertsey's silent bowers. 
 Not unemployed ; and finding rich amends 
 For a lost world in solitude and verse. 
 
 THE LOVE OF NATDRE A UNIVERSAL ENDOWMENT. 
 
 'T is born with all : the love of Nature's works 
 Is an ingredient in the compound man. 
 Infused at the creation of the kind. 
 And, though the Almighty Maker has throughout 
 Discriminated each from each, by strokes 
 And touches of His hand, with so much art 
 Diversified, that two were never found 
 Twins at all points — yet this obtains in all. 
 That all discern a beauty in His works. 
 And ;ilKaii tastf tlirni : minds that have been formed 
 And tut"ria with a rt'lish more exact. 
 But nnTiu wiilhatt -iiiiie relish, none unmoved. 
 It i.^ a tlauiu that diu^ nut even there, 
 AVhere nothing feeds it : neither business, crowds, 
 Nor habits of luxurious city-life, 
 ^\■hatever else they smother of true wortli 
 In human bosoms, quench it or abate. 
 
 The villas, with which London stands begirt 
 Like a swarth Indian, with his belt of beads. 
 Prove it. A breath of unadultcrate air, 
 The glimpse of a green pasture, how they chee 
 The citizen, and brace his languid frame ! 
 1 A character of the Bucolics of Virgil, see p. 15. 
 
 Even in the stifiing bosom of the town, 
 
 A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms 
 
 That soothe the rich possessor ; much consoled 
 
 That here and there some sprigs of mournful mint. 
 
 Of nightshade, or valerian, grace the wall 
 
 He cultivates. These serve him with a hint 
 
 That nature lives ; that sight-refreshing green 
 
 Is still the livery she delights to wear. 
 
 Though sickly samples of the exuberant whole. 
 
 AYhat are the casements lined with creeping herbs, 
 
 The prouder sashes fronted with a range 
 
 Of orange, myrtle, or the fragrant weed, 
 
 The Frenchman's darling? ' are they not all proofs 
 
 That man, immured in cities, still retains 
 
 His inborn, inextinguishable thirst 
 
 Of rural scenes, compensating his loss 
 
 By supplemental shifts, the best he may ? 
 
 riVATE SOStE PLANT OR 
 BROKEN PITCHER, WITH 
 
 The most unfurnished with the means of life. 
 And they that never pass their brick-wall bounds. 
 To range the fields, and treat their lungs with air 
 Yet feel the burning instinct : over head 
 Suspend their crazy boxes, planted thick, 
 And watered duly. There the pitcher stands 
 A fragment, and the spoutless teapot there ; 
 Sad witnesses how close-pent man regrets 
 The country, with what ardor he contrives 
 A peep at nature, when he can no more. 
 
 Hail, therefore, patroness of health and eai 
 And contemplation, heart-consoling joys. 
 And harmless pleasures, in the thronged abm 
 Of multitudes unknown ; hail. Rural Life '. 
 Address himself who will to the pursuit 
 Of honors, or emolument, or fame ; 
 I shall not add myself to such a chase. 
 Thwart his attempts, or envy his success. 
 
 Some must be great. Great offices will have 
 Great talents. And God gives to every man 
 The virtue, temper, understanding, taste. 
 That lifts him into life, and lets him fall 
 Just in tlio niche he was ordained to fill. 
 To the deliverer of an injured land 
 He gives a tongue to enlarge upon, a heart 
 To feel, and courage to redress her wrongs ; 
 To monarehs, dignity ; to judges, sense ; 
 To artists, ingenuity and skill ; 
 To me, an unambitious mind, content 
 In the low vale of life, that early felt 
 A wish for ease and leisure, and ere long 
 Found here that leisure and that ease I wished. 
 
 ■ Mignonette. 
 
%^;il(;i^ for 
 
 HAMILTON'S "BRiUJS OF YAIUIOW." 
 
 A. Bi'SKyo, busk yo, my bonny bonny biiilo, 
 
 Busk yo, busk ye, my winsome marrow ! 
 Busk ye, busk yo, my bonny bonny bride. 
 And tliink nao mair on tbo Braes of Yarrow. 
 
 B. Where gat yc that bonny bonny bride 1 
 
 Where gat ye that winsome marrow ? 
 ^1. I gat her where I darena weil bo seen, 
 
 Pouing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. 
 Weep not, weep not, my bonny bonny bride, 
 Weep not, weep not, my winsome marrow ! 
 Nor let thy heart lament to leave 
 
 Pouing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. 
 
 B. Why does she weep, thy bonny bonny bride ? 
 
 Why docs she weep, thy winsome marrow? 
 
 And why daro ye nae mair weil bo seen 
 
 Pouing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow? 
 
 A. Lang maun she weep, lang maun she, maun she 
 
 Lang maun she weep with dulo and sorrow, 
 And lang maun I nao mair weil be seen 
 
 Pouing the birks on the Braes of Yarrow. 
 For she has tint her lover lover dear, 
 
 Iler lover dear, the cause of sorrow, 
 And I hae slain the eomeliest swain 
 
 That e'er poued birks on the Braes of Yarrow. 
 Why runs thy stream, Yarrow, Yarrow, red ? 
 
 Why on thy braes heard the voice of sorrow ? 
 And why yon melancholious weeds 
 
 Hung on the bonny birks of Yarrow ? 
 What 's yonder floats on the rueful rueful flude. 
 
 What 's yonder floats ? dule and sorrow ! 
 'T is he, the comely swain I slew 
 
 Upon the duleful Braes of Yarrow. 
 Wash, 0, wash his wounds, his wounds in tears, 
 
 His wounds in tears with dule and sorrow, 
 And wrap his limbs in mourning weeds, 
 
 And lay him on the Braes of Yarrow. 
 Then build, then build, ye sisters sisters sad, 
 
 Ye sisters sad, his tomb with sorrow, 
 And weep around, in wacful wise. 
 
 His helpless fate on the Braes of Yarrow. 
 Curse ye, curse ye his useless useless shield, 
 
 My arm that wrought the deed of sorrow. 
 The Hital spear that pierced his breast. 
 
 His comely breast, on the Braes of Yarrow. 
 Bid I not warn thee, warn thee not to lue. 
 
 And warn from fight, but to my sorrow ; 
 O'er rashly bauld, a stronger arm 
 
 Thou met'st, and fell on the Braes of Yarrow. 
 Sweet smells the birk, green grows, green grows 
 
 Yellow on Yarrow bank the gowan, [the grass, 
 
 ^♦anu;iri| 
 
 Fair hangs the apple frao the rock, 
 
 Sweet the wave of Yarrow flowan. 
 Flows Y'arrow sweet? as sweet, as sweet flows 
 Tweed, 
 
 As green its grass, its gowan as yellow, 
 As sweet smells on its braes the birk. 
 
 The apple from the rock as mellow. 
 Fair was thy love, fair fair indeed thy love. 
 
 In flowery bands thou him didst fetter ; 
 Though he was fair and well-beloved again, 
 
 Than me ho never lued thee better. 
 Busk ye, then busk, my bonny bonny bride. 
 
 Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow. 
 Busk ye and lue me on the banks of Tweed, 
 
 And think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow. 
 C. How can I busk a bonny bonny bride? 
 
 How can I busk a winsome marrow? 
 How lue him on the banks of Tweed, 
 
 That slew my love on the Braes of Yarrow ? 
 0, Yarrow fields ! may never never rain 
 
 Nor dew thy tender blossom cover, 
 For there was basely slain my love, 
 
 My love, as he had not been a lover. 
 The boy put on his robes, his robes of green. 
 
 His purple vest, 'twas my ain sewing, 
 Ah ! wretched me ! I little little kenned 
 
 Ho was in these to meet his ruin. 
 The boy took out his milk-white milk-white 
 
 llnheedful of my dule and sorrow. 
 But e'er the to-fall of the night. 
 
 He lay a corpse on the Braes of Yarrow. 
 Much I rejoiced that waeful waeful day ; 
 
 I sang, my voice the woods returning, 
 But lang e'er night the spear was flown 
 
 That slew my love, and left me mourning. 
 What can my barbarous barbarous father do, 
 
 But with his cruel rage pursue me ? 
 My lover's blood is on thy spear. 
 
 How canst thou, barbarous man, then, woo me? 
 My happy sisters may be, may bo proud ; 
 
 With cruel and ungentle scoflin, 
 May bid me seek in Yarrow Braes 
 
 My lover nailed in his coflin. 
 My brother Douglaa may upbraid, upbraid. 
 
 And strive with threatening words to move 
 
 My lover's blood is on thy spear. 
 
 How canst thou ever bid me love thee ? 
 
 Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed of love, 
 With bridal sheets my body cover. 
 
 Unbar, ye bridal maids, the door. 
 Let in the expected husband-lover. 
 
466 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — HAMILTON 
 
 But who the expected husband, husband is ! 
 
 His hands, methiuks, are bathed in slaughter. 
 Ah, me ! what ghastly spectre 's yon, 
 
 Comes in his pale shroud, bleeding after ? 
 Pale as he is, here lay him, lay him down, 
 
 0, lay his cold head on my pillow ; 
 Take aff, take aff these bridal weeds. 
 
 And crown my care-full head with willow. 
 Pale though thou art, yet best, yet best beloved, 
 
 0, could my warmth to life restore thee ! 
 
 Ye 'd lie all night between my breasts, 
 
 No youth lay ever there before thee. 
 Pale, pal." iwlovA, lovely, lovely youth, 
 
 Foi-ivr, f.^i^i^,. ,-,, i,,ui a slaughter, 
 And II'' ;iil iii,-lit l.rtw.-cn my breasts, 
 
 Nu yniitJi shall cvi-r lie there after. 
 Return, return, mournful, mournful bridt 
 
 Return and dry thy useless sorrow : 
 Thy lover heeds naught of thy sighs. 
 
 He lies a corpse on the Braes of Yarrow. 
 
 1)1111111 of liraise for |anuari). 
 
 COLERIDGE'S "MONT BLANC 
 
 A Hl-MN BEFORE 
 
 Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star 
 In his steep course ? So long he seems to pause 
 On thy bald awful head, sovran Blanc ! 
 The Arve and Arveiron at thy base 
 Rave ceaselessly ; but thou, most awful form ! 
 Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines. 
 How silently ! Around thee and above. 
 Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, 
 An ebon mass ; methinks thou piercest it, 
 As with a wedge ! But when I look again. 
 It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, 
 Thy habitation from eternity ! 
 
 dread and silent mount ! I gazed upon thee. 
 Till thou, still present to the bodily sense. 
 
 Didst vanish from my thought: entranced in prayer, 
 
 1 worshipped the Invisible alone. 
 
 Yet like some sweet beguiling melody. 
 So sweet we know not we are listening to it, 
 Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my thought, 
 Yea, with my life and life's own secret joy ; 
 Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused, 
 Into the mighty vision passing there, 
 As in her natural form, swelled vast to heaven ! 
 
 Awake, my soul ! not only passive praise 
 Thou owest ! not alone these swelling tears, 
 Mute thanks, and secret ecstasy. Awake, 
 Voice of sweet song ! awake, my heart, awake ! 
 Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my hymn. 
 Thou first and chief, sole sovran of the vale ! 
 0, struggling with the darkness all the night. 
 And visited all night by troops of stars. 
 Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink ! 
 Companion of the morning etar at dawn. 
 Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn 
 Co-herald ! wake, 0, wake, and utter praise ! 
 Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth ? 
 Who filled thy countenance with rosy light? 
 Who made thee parent of perpetual streams? 
 
 And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad ! 
 Who called you forth from night and utter death, 
 From dark and icy caverns called you forth, 
 Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks, 
 
 Forever shattered, and the same forever? 
 
 Who gave you your invulnerable life, 
 
 Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, 
 
 Unceasing thunder, and eternal foam ? 
 
 And who commanded (and the silence came). 
 
 Here let the billows stiffen and have rest ? 
 
 Ye ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow 
 Adown enormous ravines slope amain — 
 Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, 
 And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge ! 
 Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts ! 
 Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven 
 Beneath the keen full moon ? Who bade the sun 
 Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living 
 
 flowers 
 Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? 
 God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations. 
 Answer ! and let the ice-plains echo, God ! 
 God! sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice! 
 Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds ! 
 And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow. 
 And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God ! 
 
 Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost ! 
 Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest ! 
 Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain storm ! 
 Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds ! 
 Ye signs and wonders of the elements ! 
 Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise ! 
 
 Once more, hoar mount ! with thy sky-pointing 
 peaks. 
 Oft from whose feet the avalanche, xmheard. 
 Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene, 
 Into the depth of clouds that veil thy breast — 
 Thou too, again, stupendous mountain ! thou, 
 That as I raise my head, a while bowed low 
 In adoration, upward from thy base, 
 Slow travelling, with dim eyes suffused with tears. 
 Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud. 
 To rise before me — Rise, 0, ever rise ; 
 Rise, like a cloud of incense, from the earth ! 
 Thou kingly spirit throned among the hills. 
 Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven, 
 Great Hierarch ! tell thou the silent sky, 
 And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, 
 Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God. 
 
SDSRISE IS WISTER. 
 
 'T IS morning j and the sun, with ruddy orb 
 Ascending, fires tho horizon ; while the clouds, 
 Tbat crowd awny before tho driving wind. 
 More ardent as tho disk emerges more, 
 Roscmble most some city in a blaze, 
 Seen through tho Icnflcss wood. His slanting ray 
 Slides ineffectual down tho snowy vale. 
 And, tinging all with his own rosy hue. 
 From every herb and every spiry blade 
 Stretches a length of shadow o'er the field. 
 
 Mine, spindling into longitude immense, 
 In spite of gravity, and sage remark 
 That I myself am but a fleeting shade. 
 Provokes me to a smile. With eye askance 
 I view the muscular proportioned limb 
 Transformed to a lean shank. The shapeless 
 As they designed to mock me, at my side 
 Take step for step ; and, as I near approach 
 The cottage, walk along the plastered wall. 
 Preposterous sight ! the logs without the man 
 
 THE JKWKLLKD MASTLB OF i 
 
 The verdure of tho plain lies buried deep 
 
 Beneath the dainling deluge ; and tho bent-i. 
 
 And coarser grass, upspcaring o'er tho rest. 
 
 Of late unsightly and unseen. 
 
 Conspicuous, and in bright apparel clad. 
 
 And, fledged with icy feathers, nod superb. 
 
 CATTI-E IS WISTEB. — PATIKSCE. — OCT-DOna FODDKKl! 
 
 Tho cattle mourn in corners, whore the fence 
 Screens them, and seem half petrified to sleep 
 In unrccumbont sadness. There they wait 
 Their wonted fodder ; not like hungering man, 
 
RURAL POETRY. — COWPER. 
 
 Fretful if unsupplied ; but silent, meek, 
 And patient of the slow-paced swain's delay. 
 He from the stack carves out the accustomed load. 
 Deep-plunging, and again deep-plunging, oft. 
 His broad, keen knife into the solid mass ; 
 Smooth as a wall the upright remnant stands, 
 With such undeviating and even force 
 He severs it away ; no needless care, 
 Lest storms should overset the leaning pile 
 Deciduous, or its own unbalanced weight. 
 
 GOING TO THE WOOD. — mS DOG. — BIS PIPE. 
 
 Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconcerned 
 The cheerful haunts of man ; to wield the axe 
 And drive the wedge, in yonder forest drear. 
 From morn to eve his solitary task. 
 Shaggy, and lean, and shrewd, with pointed ears, 
 And tail cropped short, half lurcher and half our, 
 His dog attends him. Close behind his heel 
 Now creeps he slow ; and now, with many a frisk 
 Wide scampering, snatches up the drifted snow 
 With ivory teeth, or ploughs it with his snout ; 
 Then shakes his powdered coat, and barks for joy. 
 Heedless of all his pranks, tho sturdy churl 
 Moves right toward the mark ; nor stops for aught. 
 But now and then with pressure of his thumb 
 To adjust the fragrant charge of a short tube. 
 That fumes beneath his nose : the trailing cloud 
 Streams far behind him, scenting all the air. 
 
 FEEDING OF PODLTRT IN i WI.ITEB'S MORNING. —SPiREOWS. 
 — THE COOK. 
 
 Now from the roost, or from the neighboring pale, 
 Where, diligent to catch the first faint gleam 
 Of smiling day, they gossiped side by side. 
 Come trooping at the housewife's well-known call 
 The feathered tribes domestic. Half on wing, 
 And half on foot, they brush the fleecy flood, 
 Conscious, and fearful of too deep a plunge. 
 The sparrows peep, and quit the sheltering eaves. 
 To seize the fair occasion ; well they eye 
 The scattered grain, and, thievishly resolved 
 To escape the impending famine, often scared, 
 As oft return, a pert voracious kind. 
 Clean riddance quickly made, one only care 
 Remainsito each, the search of sunny nook. 
 Or shed impervious to the blast. Resigned 
 To sad necessity, the cock foregoes 
 His wonted strut ; and, wading at their head 
 With well-considered steps, seems to resent 
 His altered gait and stateliness retrenched. 
 
 How find the myriads, that in summer cheer 
 Tho hills and valleys with their ceaseless songs. 
 Due sustenance, or where subsist they now ? 
 Earth yields them naught ; the imprisoned worm is 
 Beneath the frozen clod; all seeds of herbs [safe 
 Lie covered close ; and berry-bearing thorns. 
 That feed the thrush (whatever some suppose), 
 Afford the smaller minstrels no supply. 
 
 The long-protracted rigor of the year 
 
 Thins all their numerous flocks. In chinks and holes 
 
 Ten thousand seek an unmolested end. 
 
 As instinct prompts ; self-buried ere they die. 
 
 The very rooks and daws forsake tho fields, 
 Where neither grub, nor root, nor earth-nut, now 
 Repays their labor more ; and perched aloft 
 By the wayside, or stalking in the path. 
 Lean pensioners upon the traveller's track. 
 Pick up their nauseous dole, though sweet to them. 
 Of voided pulse, or half-digested grain. 
 
 The streams are lost amid the splendid blank, 
 O'erwhelming all distinction. On the flood, 
 Indurated and fl.icd, the snowy weight 
 Lies undissolved ; while silently beneath, 
 And unperceived, the current steals away. 
 Not so where, scornful of a check, it leaps 
 The mill-dam, dashes on the restless wheel. 
 And wantons in the pebbly gulf below : 
 No frost can bind it there ; its utmost force 
 Can but arrest the light and smolsy mist. 
 That in its fall the liquid sheet throws wide. 
 
 And see where it has hung the embroidered banks 
 With forms so various, that no powers of art. 
 The pencil or the pen, may trace the scene ! 
 Here glittering turrets rise, upbearing high 
 (Fantastic misarrangement !) on the roof 
 Large growth of what may seem tho sparkling trees 
 And shrubs of fairy land. The cry.stal drops, 
 That trickle down the branches, fast congealed. 
 Shoot into pillars of pellucid length. 
 And prop the pile they but adorned before. 
 Here grotto within grotto safe defies 
 The sunbeam ; there, embossed and fretted wild. 
 The growing wonder takes a thousand shapes 
 Capricious, in which fancy seeks in vain 
 The likeness of some object seen before. 
 
 THE EMPRESS OF BCSSIA. 
 
 Thus nature works as if to mock at art. 
 And in defiance of her rival powers ; 
 By these fortuitous and random strokes 
 Performing such inimitable feats. 
 As she with all her rules can never reach. 
 Less worthy of applause, though more admired, 
 Because a novelty, the work of man, 
 Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ, 
 Thy most magnificent and mighty freak, 
 The wonder of tho north. 
 
 TEE PALACE OF ICE. — ARIST«D3, OTBENE. 
 
 No forest fell. 
 When thou wouldst build ; no quarry sent its stores 
 To enrich thy walls ; but thou didst hew the floods, 
 And make thy marble of the glassy wave. 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 469 
 
 In such ft palaco Aristiciis ' found 
 Cyrone, when he bore the plaintive tale 
 Of his lost beos to her maternal ear : 
 In such ft palace poetry might place 
 The armory of winter ; whore his troops, 
 The gloomy clouds, find weapons, arrowy sleet, 
 Skin-pioroing volley, blossom-bruising hail. 
 And snow, that often blinds the traveller's course. 
 And wraps him in an unexpected tomb. 
 
 Silently as a dream the fabric rose ; 
 No sound of hammer or of saw was there : 
 Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts 
 Were soon conjoined, nor other cement asked 
 Than water interfused to make them one. 
 Lamps gracefully disposed, and of all hues, 
 Illumined every side ; a watery light [seemed 
 
 Gleamed through the clear transparency, that 
 Another moon new risen, or meteor fallen 
 From heaven to earth, of lambent flame serene. 
 So stood the brittle prodigy ; though smooth 
 And slippery the materials, yet frost-bound 
 Firm as a rock. 
 
 FntN-ITCRE OF TilB ICE PALACE 
 
 Nor wanted aught within. 
 That royal residence might well befit. 
 For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths 
 Of flowers, that feared no enemy but warmth, 
 Blushed on the pannels. Mirror needed none 
 Where all was vitreous ; but in order due 
 Convivial table and commodious seat [there • 
 
 (AVhat seemed, at least, commodious seat) were 
 Sofa, and couch, and high-built throne august. 
 The same lubricity was found in all. 
 And all was moist to the warm touch : a scene 
 Of evanescent glory, once a stream. 
 And soon to slide into a stream again. 
 
 MORAL OP TOE ICE PALACE. 
 
 Alas ! 't was but a mortifying stroke 
 Of undesigned severity, that glanced 
 (.Made by a monarch) on her own estate, 
 On human grandeur, and the courts of kings. 
 'T was transient in its nature, as in show 
 'T was durable ; as worthless, as it seemed 
 Intrinsically precious ; to the foot 
 Treacherous and false j it smiled, and it was cold. 
 
 ROVAL PLATTBINOS. — WAR. 
 
 Great princes have great playthings. Some have 
 At hewing mountains into men, and some [played 
 At building human wonders mountain-high. 
 Some have amused the dull, sad years of life 
 (Life spent in indolence, and therefore sad) 
 With schemes of monumental fame ; and sought 
 By pyramids and mansolean pomp, 
 Short-lived themselves, to immortalize their bones. 
 
 I See Georgic IV. of Virgil, pp, 236, 236. 
 
 Some seek diversion in the tented field. 
 And make the sorrows of mankind their sport. 
 But war's a game, which, were their subject! wise. 
 Kings would not play at. Nations would do well 
 T' e.xtort their truncheons from the puny hands 
 Of heroes, whoso infirm and baby minds 
 Are gratified with mischief ; and who spoil 
 Because men suffer it, their toy the world. 
 
 OOD ASSIQNED THE NATIONS TUEIR PLACES. 
 
 When Babel was confounded, and the great 
 Confederacy of projectors wild and vain 
 M'as split into diversity of tongues, 
 Then, as a shepherd separates his flock. 
 These to tho upland, to the valley those, 
 God dravo asunder, and assigned their lot 
 To all the nations. Ample was the boon 
 lie gave them, in its distribution fair 
 And equal ; and He bade them dwell in peace. 
 Peace was a while their earo : they ploughed, and 
 
 And reaped their plenty without grudge or strife. 
 But violence can never longer sleep 
 Than human passions please. 
 
 In every heart 
 Are sown the sparks that kindle fiery war ; 
 Occasion needs but fan them, and they blaze. 
 Cain had already shed a brother's blood : 
 Tho Deluge washed it out ; but left unqucnchod 
 The seeds of murder in the breast of man. 
 Soon, by a righteous judgment, in tho line 
 Of his descending progeny was found 
 The first artificer of death ; the shrewd 
 Contriver, who first sweated at the forge. 
 And forced the blunt and yet unbloodied steel 
 To a keen edge, and made it bright for war. 
 Ilim, Tubal named, the Vulcan of old times. 
 The sword and falcliion their inventor claim ; 
 And the first smith was the first murderer's son. 
 
 COVETOCSSKSS TUS MOTHER OF WAR. 
 
 His art survived the waters ; and ere long. 
 When man was multiplied, and spread abroad 
 In tribes and clans, and had begun to call 
 Those meadows and that range of hills his own. 
 The tasted sweets of property begat 
 Desire of more ; and industry in some. 
 To improve and cultivate their just demesne. 
 Made others covet what they saw so fair. 
 Thus war began on earth : these fought for spoil, 
 And those in self-defence. 
 
 ORIOra OF MILrTART CmEFTAIXSniP. 
 
 Savage at first 
 The onset, and irregular. At length 
 One eminent above the rest for strength, 
 For stratagem, for courage, or for all. 
 Was chosen lender ; him they servc<l in war. 
 And him in ponce, for sake of warlike deeds 
 
470 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Reverenced no less. AVho could with him compare i 
 
 Or who so worthy to control themselves, 
 
 Ashe, whose prowess had subdued their foes? 
 
 Thus war, affording field for the display 
 
 Of virtue, made one chief, whom times of peace, 
 
 "Which have their exigencies too, and call 
 
 For skill in government, at length made king. 
 
 ACCOUNT OF THE INVENTION OF KINGS ANE 
 
 King was a name too proud for man to wear 
 With modesty and meekness ; and the crown. 
 So dazzling in their eyes, who set it on. 
 Was sure t' intoxicate the brows it bound. 
 It is the abject property of most, 
 That, being parcel of the common mass. 
 And destitute of means to raise themselves. 
 They sink, and settle lower than they need. 
 They know not what it is to feel within 
 A comprehensive faculty, that grasps 
 Great purposes with ease, that turns and wields. 
 Almost without an effort, plans too vast 
 For their conception, which they cannot move. 
 
 Conscious of impotence, they soon grow drunk 
 With gazing when they see an able man 
 Step forth to notice ; and, besotted thus. 
 Build him a pedestal, and say, ' Stand there, 
 And be our admiration and our praise.' 
 They roll themselves before him in the dust, 
 Then most deserving in their own account. 
 When most extravagant in his applause. 
 As if exalting him they raised themselves. 
 Thus, by degrees, self-cheated of their sound 
 And sober judgment, that he is but man, 
 They demi-deify and fume him so. 
 That in due season he forgets it too. 
 
 THE FHIL-FLEDGED ADTOCBAT. — CONQDERORS. 
 
 Inflated and astrut with self-conceit, 
 He gulps the windy diet ; and, ere long, 
 Adopting their mistake, profoundly thinks 
 The world was made in vain, if not for him. 
 Thenceforth they are his cattle ; drudges, born 
 To bear his burdens, drawing in his gears, 
 And sweating in his service, his caprice 
 Becomes the soul that animates them all. 
 He deems a thousand or ten thousand lives, 
 Spent in the purchase of renown for him, 
 An easy reckoning ; and they think the same. 
 Thus kings were first invented, and thus kings 
 Were burnished into heroes, and became 
 The arbiters of this terraqueous swamp ; 
 Storks among frogs, that have but croaked and died. 
 
 Even in the cradled weakness of the world ! 
 Still stranger much, that when at length mankind 
 Had reached the sinewy firmness of their youth. 
 And could discriminate and argue well 
 On subjects more' mysterious, they were yet 
 Babes in the cause of freedom, and should fear 
 And quake before the gods themselves had made : 
 But above measure strange, that neither proof 
 Of sad experience, nor examples set 
 By some, whose patriot virtue has prevailed. 
 Can even now, when they are grown mature 
 In wisdom, and with philosophic deeds 
 Familiar, serve to emancipate the rest ! 
 
 Strange, that such folly, as lifts bloated i 
 To eminence fit only for a god. 
 Should ever drivel out of human lips. 
 
 Such dupes are men to custom, and so prone 
 To reverence what is ancient, and can plead 
 A course of long observance for its use. 
 That even servitude, the worst of ills, 
 Because delivered down from sire to son, 
 Is kept and guarded as a sacred thing. 
 But is it fit, or can it bear the shock 
 Of rational discussion, that a man. 
 Compounded and made up like other men 
 Of elements tumultuous, in whom lust 
 And folly in as ample measure meet. 
 As in the bosoms of the slaves he rules, 
 Should be a despot absolute, and boast 
 Himself the only freeman of his land ? 
 Should, when he pleases, and on whom he will, 
 Wage war, with any or with no pretence 
 Of provocation given, or wrong sustained. 
 And force the beggarly last doit, by means 
 That his own humor dictates, from the clutch 
 Of poverty, that thus he may procure 
 His thousands, weary of penurious life, 
 A splendid opportunity to die ? 
 
 Say ye, who (with less prudence than of old 
 Jotham ascribed to his assembled trees 
 In politic convention) put your trust 
 In the shadow of a bramble, and recline 
 In fancied peace beneath his dangerous branch, 
 Kejoice in him, and celebrate his sway. 
 Where find ye passive fortitude? Whence springs 
 Your self-denying zeal, that holds it good 
 To stroke the prickly grievance, and to hang 
 His thorns with streamers of continual praise ? 
 
 AVe too are friends to loyalty. We love 
 The king, who loves the law, respects his bounds, 
 And reigns content within them : him we servo 
 Freely and with delight, who leaves us free ; 
 But, recollecting still that he is man. 
 Wo trust him not too far. King though he be. 
 And king in England too, he may be weak 
 And vain enough to be ambitious still ; 
 May exercise amiss his proper powers. 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 471 
 
 dr covet more than frcomon ohoOBO to grant : 
 Uoyond that mark is treason. Ho is oars, 
 To administer, to guard, to adorn, the state, 
 lint not to warp or change it. We aro his, 
 To serve bim nobly in the common cause, 
 Truo to the death, but not to be his slaves. 
 
 Mark now the difference, yo that boast your lovo 
 Of kings, between your loyalty and ours. 
 Wo lovo the man, the paltry pageant you : 
 We the chief patron of the commonwealth, 
 You tho regardless author of its woes : 
 We, for tho sake of liberty, a king ; 
 You chains of bondage for a tyrant's sake. 
 Our love is principle, and has its root 
 In reason, is judicious, manly, free ; 
 Yours, a blind instinct, crouches to the rod. 
 And licks the foot that treads it in the dust. 
 Were kingship as true treasure as it seems, 
 Sterling, and worthy of a wise man's wish, 
 I would not be a king to bo beloved 
 Causeless, and daubed with undiscerning praise, 
 Where love is mere attachment to the throne. 
 Not to the man who fills it as he ought. 
 
 Tia'E FREEDOM. — STRUGGLE3 FOB LIBERTY. 
 
 Whose freedom is by sufferance, and at will 
 Of a superior, he is never free. 
 Who lives, and is not weary of a life 
 Exposed to manacles, deserves them well. 
 The state that strives for liberty, though foiled, 
 And forced to abandon what she bravely sought, 
 Deserves at leost applause for her attempt. 
 And pity for her loss. But that 's a cause 
 Not often unsuccessful : power usurped 
 Is wcaknc=? when opposed : conscious of wrong. 
 
 'Tisi.n.in.ml 
 
 11 11- nibl prone to flight. 
 
 But>h 
 
 -.rive the glowing thought 
 
 Oflr.. 1 
 
 ■ i: , i . itsolf possess 
 
 All thai III- 
 
 ..,1. 1 inll^ lur; spirit, strength. 
 
 The scorn ..f, 
 
 auger, and united hearts : 
 
 The surest presage of the good they seek." 
 
 Then shame to manhood, and opprobrious more 
 To France than all her losses and defeats. 
 Old or of later date, by sea or land, 
 Her house of bondage, worse than that of old 
 Which God avenged on Pharaoh — tho Bastilo. 
 Ye horrid towers, the abode of broken hearts ; 
 Ye dungeons, and ye cages of despair. 
 That monarchs have supplied from age to ago 
 With music, such as suits their sovereign oars, 
 The sighs and groons of miserable men ! 
 There 's not an English heart that would not leap 
 To hear that ye were fallen at last ; to know 
 
 1 The author hopes tlint he shall i 
 
 tessary w ' 
 aware that i 
 
 such sentiments m no better than empty t 
 it is an ill symptom, and pecnliar ( 
 
 That oven our enemies, so oft employed 
 
 In forging chains for us, themselves wore free. 
 
 For ho who values liberty confines 
 
 His 7.eal for her predominance within 
 
 No narrow bounds ; her cause engages him 
 
 Wherever pleaded. 'T is tho cause of man. 
 
 THE PRISONER OF TUB BASTILB. 
 
 There dwell the most forlorn of human kind, 
 Immured though unaccused, condemned untried. 
 Cruelly spared, and hopeless of escape. 
 There, like the visionary emblem seen 
 By him of Babylon, life stonds n stump. 
 And, filleted about with hoops of brass. 
 Still lives, though all his pleasant boughs aro gone. 
 To count tho hour-bell, and expect no change ; 
 And over, ns tli- •nll-n -'"nd U heard. 
 Still to retlr.t, \<.:,t th. n-li a .j-'vlcss note 
 Tohim, wh... 11, in. -1 all lii.vL- one dull pace. 
 Ten thou.«aiia i"\r,< in tli. u^rM at largo 
 Account it music ; that it summons some 
 To theatre, or jocund feast, or ball : 
 Tho wearied hireling finds it a release 
 From labor ; and tho lover, who has chid 
 Its long delay, feels every welcome stroke 
 Upon his heart-strings, trembling with delight ; — 
 To fly for refuge from distracting thought 
 To such amusements as ingenious woe 
 Contrives hard-shifting, and without her tools ; — 
 To read engraven on the mouldy walls. 
 In staggering types, his predecessor's tale, 
 A sad memorial, and subjoin his own ; — 
 To turn purveyor to an over-gorged 
 And bloated spider, till the pampered pest 
 Is made familiar, watches his approach. 
 Comes at his call, and serves him for a friend ; — 
 To wear out time in numbering to and fro 
 Tho studs, that thick emboss his iron door ; 
 Then downward and then upward, then aslant 
 And then alternate ; with a sickly hope 
 By dint of change to give his tasteless task 
 Some relish ; till, the sum exactly found 
 In all directions, he begins again. 
 
 comfortless existence ! hemmed around 
 
 With woes, which who that suffers would not kneel 
 And bog for exile, or the pangs of death? 
 That man should thus encroach on fellow-man. 
 Abridge him of his just and native rights. 
 Eradicate him, tear him from his hold 
 Upon tho endearments of domestic life 
 And social, nip his fruitfulness and use, 
 And doom him for perhaps a heedless word 
 To barrenness, and solitude, and tears. 
 Moves indignation ; makes the name of king 
 (Of king whom such prerogative can please) 
 As dreadful as the Manichcan god,' 
 Adored through fear, strong only to destroy. 
 
 1 The Manichcan sect, nnme<l for their founder Manes, 
 In the third century, adored a dual deity, maile up of the 
 principle of good and the |irlnciple of evil. 
 
RURAL POETRY. COWPER. 
 
 LIFE WITHOUT LIBERTY A BURTHEN. — DSE OF FREEDOM. 
 
 'T is liberty alone that gives the flower 
 Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume ; 
 And we are weeds without it. All constraint, 
 Except what wisdom lays on evil men, 
 Is evil : hurts the faculties, impedes 
 Their progress in the road of science ; blinds 
 The eyesight of discovery ; and begets 
 In those that suffer it a sordid mind 
 Bestial, a meagre intellect, unfit 
 To be the tenant of man's noble form. 
 Thee therefore still, blame-worthy as thou art. 
 With all thy loss of empire, and though squeezed 
 By public exigence till annual food 
 Fails for the craving hunger of the state. 
 Thee I account still happy, and the chief 
 Among the nations, seeing thou art free ; 
 My native nook of earth ! 
 
 THE CLIMATE AND MANNERS OF BRITAIN. — FRENCH POLITE 
 
 Thy clime is rude. 
 Replete with vapors, and disposes much 
 All hearts to sadness, and none more than mine : 
 Thine unadulterate manners are less soft 
 And plausible than social life requires. 
 And thou hast need of discipline and art. 
 To give thee what politer France receives 
 From nature's bounty — that humane address 
 And sweetness, without which no pleasure is 
 In converse, either starved by cold reserve. 
 Or flushed with fierce dispute, a senseless brawl. 
 Yet being free I love thee : for the sake 
 Of that one feature can be well content. 
 Disgraced as thou hast been, poor as thou art, 
 To seek no sublunary rest beside. 
 
 But once enslaved, farewell ! I could endure 
 Chains nowhere patiently ; and chains at home, 
 Where I am free by birthright, not at all. 
 Then what were left of roughness in the grain 
 Of British natures, wanting its excuse 
 That it belongs to freemen, would disgust 
 And shock me. I should then with double pain 
 Feel all the rigor of thy fickle clime ; 
 And, if I must bewail the blessing lost 
 For which our Hampdens and our Sidneys bled, 
 I would at least bewail it under skies 
 Milder, among a people less austere ; 
 In scenes, which having never known me free. 
 Would not reproach me with the loss I felt. 
 Do I forebode impossible events. 
 And tremble at vain dreams? Heaven grant I may! 
 But the age of virtuous politics is past, 
 And we are deep in that of cold pretence. 
 
 Designed by loud declaimers on the part 
 Of liberty, themselves the slaves of lust. 
 Incurs derision for his easy faith, 
 . And lack of knowledge, and with cause enough ; 
 For when was public virtue to be found 
 Where private was not ? Can he love the whole, 
 Who loves no part ? He be a nation's friend, 
 Who is in truth the friend of no man there? 
 Can he be strenuous in his country's cause, 
 Who slights the charities, for whose dear sake 
 That country, if at all, must be beloved? 
 
 'T is therefore sober and good men are sad 
 For England's glory, seeing it wax pale 
 And sickly, while her champions wear their hearts 
 So loose to private duty, that no brain. 
 Healthful and undisturbed by factious fumes, 
 Can dream them trusty to the general weal. 
 
 Such were not they of old, whose tempered blades 
 Dispersed the shackles of usurped control. 
 And hewed them link from link; then Albion's sons 
 Were sons indeed ; they felt a filial heart 
 Beat high within them at a mother's wrongs ; 
 And, shining each in his domestic sphere, 
 Shone brighter still once called to public view. 
 
 FOREBODINGS OF THE BRITISH PATRIOT. — ALL THINGS HAVE 
 
 'T is therefore many, whose sequestered lot 
 Forbids their interference, looking on, 
 Anticipate perforce some dire event ; 
 And, seeing the old castle of tho state. 
 That promised once more firmness, so assailed 
 That all its tempest^beaten turrets shake. 
 Stand motionless expectants of its fall. 
 All has its date below ; the fatal hour 
 Was registered in heaven ere time began. 
 We turn to dust, and all our mightiest works 
 Die too : the deep foundations that we lay. 
 Time ploughs them up, and not a trace remains. 
 Wo build with what we deem eternal rock : 
 A distant age asks where the fabric stood ; 
 And in the dust, sifted and searched in vain, 
 The undiscoverable secret sleeps. 
 
 Patriots are grown too shrewd to be sincere. 
 And we too wise to trust them. He that takes. 
 Deep in his soft credulity, the stamp 
 
 1 But there is yet a liberty, unsung 
 
 I By poets, and by senators unpraised ; 
 
 j Which monarchs cannot grant, nor all the powers 
 
 Of earth and hell confederate take away : 
 
 A liberty which persecution, fraud, 
 j Oppressions, prisons, have no power to bind ; 
 I Which whoso tastes can be enslaved no more. 
 
 'T is liberty of heart derived from heaven. 
 
 Bought with His blood, who gave it to mankind, 
 I And sealed with the same token. It is held 
 
 By charter, and that charter sanctioned sure 
 
 By the unimpeachable and awful oath 
 
 And promise of a God. 
 
 His other gifts 
 All bear the royal stamp that speaks them his. 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 473 
 
 And are august ; but this transoonds tbom all. 
 His other works, tho visible display • 
 Of all-creating energy and miglit, 
 Are grand, no doubt, and worthy of tbo word, 
 That, finding an intonuinable space 
 Unoccupied, ha3 filled tho void so well. 
 And made so sparkling wliat wa:$ dark before. 
 But these are not his glory. Man, 't is true, 
 Sniit with the beauty of so fair a scone, 
 Might well suppose the artificer divino 
 Meant it eternal, had lie not himself 
 Pronounced it transient, glorious as it is. 
 And, still designing a more glorious far. 
 Doomed it as insufficient for His praise. 
 These therefore are occasional, and pass ; 
 Formed for tho confutation of tho fool. 
 Whose lying heart disputes against a God j 
 That office served, they must be swept away. 
 
 Not so tho labors of His love : they shine 
 In other heavens than these that we behold. 
 And fade not. There is Paradise that fears 
 No forfeiture, and of its fruits He sends 
 Large prelibation oft to saints below. 
 Of these the first in order, and the pledge 
 And confident assurance of the rest, 
 Is liberty : a flight into His arms, 
 Ero yet mortality's fine threads give way, 
 A clear escape from tyrannizing lust. 
 And full immunity from penal woe. 
 
 MAN'S DODT A DISCIPLISART DONOEON. 
 
 Chains are tho portion of revolted man, 
 Stripus. anil ii dungeon ; and his body serves 
 Thf triple purpc.so. In that sickly, foul, 
 Opprobrious resiiloncc hi' fin<N tdoni nil. 
 Propenso his hoart t.. i.|..| , In 1- !i.M 
 In silly dotage un r,-,;,!, ,1 tlnn-.. 
 Careless of their Cn at"r. Ami (hat, low 
 And sordid gravitation of his pnu-crs 
 To a vile clod so draws him, with such force 
 Resistless from the centre he should seek. 
 That ho at last forgets it. All his hopes 
 Tend downward ; his ambition is to sink. 
 To reach a depth profounder still, and still 
 Profounder, in the fathomless abyss 
 Of folly, plunging in pursuit of death. 
 
 THE DISQL'IBT AND FBAAS OF TITB WICKED. 
 
 But ere he gain the comfortless repose 
 He seeks, and acquiescence of his soul 
 In heaven-renouncing exile, he endures — 
 What does he not, from lusts opposed in vain. 
 And self-reproaching conscience? He foresees 
 The fatal issue to his health, fame, peace, 
 Fortune, and dignity ; the loss of all 
 That can ennoble man, and make frail life. 
 Short as it is, supportable. Still worse, 
 Far worse than all the plagues, with which his t 
 
 Infect bis happiest moments, he forebodes 
 Ages of hopeless misery. Future death. 
 And death still future. Not a hasty stroke, 
 Like that which sends him to the dusty grave ; 
 But unropoalable, enduring death. 
 Scripture is still a trumpet to his fears : 
 What none can prove a forgery may be true ; 
 What none but bad men wish exploded, must. 
 That scruple checks him. 
 
 REFORM TiUT IS BIJT SELF-RELIANT IS FLBBTINO. 
 
 Riot is not loud, 
 Nor dmnk enough, to drown it. In the midst 
 Of laughter his compunctious are sincere ; 
 And he abhors the jest by which he shines. 
 Remorse begets reform. His master-lust 
 Falls first before his resolute rebuke. 
 And seems dethroned and vanquished. Peace ensues, 
 But spurious and short-lived ; the puny child 
 Of self-congratulating pride, begot 
 On fancied innooonco. Again ho falls. 
 And fights again j but finds his best essay 
 A presage ominous, portending still 
 Its own dishonor by a worse relapse ; 
 Till nature, unavailing nature, foiled 
 So oft, and wearied in the vain attempt, 
 Scoffs at her own performance. 
 
 Reason now 
 Takes part with appetite, and pleads the cause 
 Perversely, which of late she so condemned ; 
 With shallow shifts and old devices, worn 
 And tattered in tho service of debauch. 
 Covering his shame from his offended sight. 
 
 • Hath Kod indeed given appetites to man. 
 And stored the earth so plenteously with means, 
 To gratify the hunger of his wish ; 
 And doth He reprobate, and will He damn. 
 The use of His own bounty '! making first 
 So frail a kind, and then enacting laws 
 So strict, that less than perfect must despair? 
 Falsehood ! which whoso but suspects of truth 
 Dishonors God, and makes a slave of man. 
 Do they themselves, who undertake for hire 
 The teacher's office, and dispense at large 
 Their weekly dole of edifying strains. 
 Attend to their own music? have they faith 
 In what with such solemnity of tone 
 And gesture they propound to our belief? 
 Nay — conduct hath the loudest tongue. The voice 
 Is but an instrument, on which tho priest 
 Jlay play what tune he pleases. In the deed, 
 The unequivocal, authentic deed. 
 We find sound argument, we read the heart.' 
 
 Such reasonings (if that name must needs belong 
 To excuses in which reason has no part) 
 Servo to compose a spirit well inclined 
 To live on terms of amity with vice, 
 And sin without disturbance. 
 
 00 
 
474 
 
 RURAL POETRY. COWPER. 
 
 Often urged 
 (As often as, libidinous discourse 
 Exhausted, he resorts to solemn themes 
 Of theological and grave import), 
 They gain at last his unreserved assent ; 
 Till, hardened his heart's temper in the forge 
 Of lust, and on the anvil of despair. 
 He slights the strokes of conscience. Nothing mov 
 Or nothing much, his constancy in ill ; 
 Vain tampering has but fostered his disease ; 
 'T is desperate, and he sleeps the sleep of death. 
 
 Haste now, philosopher, and set him free. 
 Charm the deaf serpent wisely. Make him hear 
 Of rectitude and fitness, moral truth 
 How lovely, and the moral sense how sure. 
 Consulted and obeyed, to guide his steps 
 Directly to the first and only fair. 
 Spare not in such a cause. Spend all the powers 
 Of rant and rhapsody in virtue's praise ; 
 Be most sublimely good, verbosely grand, 
 And with poetic trappings grace thy prose. 
 Till it out-mantle all the pride of verse. — 
 Ah, tinkling cymbal, and high-sounding brass, 
 Smitten in vain ! such music cannot charm 
 Th' eclipse, that intercepts truth's heavenly beam. 
 And chills and darkens a wide-wandering soul. 
 
 The still small voice is wanted. He must speak. 
 Whose word leaps forth at once to its effect ; 
 Who calls for things that are not, and they come. 
 
 Grace makes the slave a freeman. 'T is a change. 
 That turns to ridicule the turgid speech 
 And stately tone of moralists, who boast. 
 As if, like him of fabulous renown. 
 They had indeed ability to smooth 
 The shag of savage nature, and were each 
 An Orpheus, and omnipotent in song : 
 But transformation of apostate man 
 From fool to wise, from earthly to divine, 
 Is work for Him that made him. He alone, 
 And He by means in philosophic eyes 
 Trivial and worthy of disdain, achieves 
 The wonder : humanizing what is brute 
 In the lost kind, extracting from the lips 
 Of asps their venom, overpowering strength 
 By weakness, and hostility by love. 
 
 PATRIOTS GLORIODS j MARTYRS MORE SO. 
 
 Patriots have toiled, and in their country's cause 
 Bled nobly ; and their deeds, as they deserve, 
 Receive proud recompense. We give in charge 
 Their names to the sweet lyro. The historic muse. 
 Proud of the treasure, marches with it down 
 To latest times ; and sculpture, in her tui-n, 
 
 Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass 
 To guard them, and to immortalize her trust : 
 But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid. 
 To those who, posted at the shrine of truth. 
 Have fallen in her defence. A patriot's blood, 
 Well spent in such a strife, may earn indeed. 
 And for a time insure to his loved land, 
 The sweets of liberty and equal laws ; 
 But martyrs struggle for a brighter prize. 
 And win it with more pain. 
 
 Their blood is shed 
 In confirmation of the noblest claim. 
 Our claim to feed upon immortal truth. 
 To walk with God, to be divinely free, 
 To soar, and to anticipate the skies. 
 Yet few remember them. They lived unknown. 
 Till persecution dragged them into fame. 
 And chased them up to heaven. Their ashes flew- 
 No marble tells us whither. With their names 
 No bard embalms and sanctifies his song : 
 And history, so warm on meaner themes, 
 Is cold on this. She execrates indeed 
 The tyranny that doomed them to the fire. 
 But gives the glorious sufferers little praise. 
 
 j He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, 
 j And all are slaves beside. There 's not a chain, 
 That hellish foes, confederate for his harm. 
 Can wind around him, but he casts it off 
 With as much ease as Samson his green withes. 
 Ho looks abroad into the varied field 
 Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compared 
 With those whose mansions glitter in his sight. 
 Calls the delightful scenery all his own. 
 
 THE CBILn OF GOD ENJOYS HIS FATHER'S REALMS. 
 
 His are the mountains, and the valleys his, 
 And the resplendent rivers : his t' enjoy 
 With a propriety that none can feel, 
 But who, with filial confidence inspired. 
 Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye. 
 And smiling say, ' My Father made them all ! ' 
 Are they not his by a peculiar right. 
 And by an emphasis of interest his. 
 Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy. 
 Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind 
 With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love, 
 That planned, and built, and still upholds, a world 
 So clothed with beauty for rebellious man ? 
 
 Yes — ye may fill your garners, ye that reap 
 The loaded soil, and ye may waste much good 
 In senseless riot ; but ye will not find 
 In feast, or in the chase, in song or dance, 
 A liberty like his, who, uniuipeached 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 475 
 
 Of usurpation, and to no man's wrong, 
 Appropriiilfs nature as his Father's work, 
 
 uhor 1 
 
 
 you. 
 
 lit/ is inilu'cd a frooman. Froo by birth 
 I If .... i.uun city ; planned or ore the hills 
 AVero built, tlio fountains oixsnetl, or the soa 
 With all his roaring multitude of waves. 
 ni9 freedom is the same in every state ; 
 And no condition of this changeful life, 
 So manifold in cares, whoso every day 
 lirings its oivn evil with it, makes it less ; 
 For he has wings, that neither sickness, pain, 
 Nor penury, can cripple or confine. 
 No nook so narrow but ho spreads them there 
 With case, and is at largo. The oppressor holds 
 His body bound, but knows not what a range 
 His spirit takes, unconscious of a chain ; 
 And that to bind him is a vain attempt. 
 Whom God delights in, and in whom Ho dwells. 
 
 Acquaint thyself with God, if thou wouldst taste 
 His works. Admitted once to His embrace, 
 Thou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before : 
 Thine eye shall bo instructed ; and thine heart, 
 Made pure, shall relish, with divine delight 
 Till then unfelt, what hands divine bare wrought. 
 
 Brutes graze the mountain top, with faces prone. 
 And eyes intent upon the scanty herb 
 It yields them ; or, recumbent on its brow, 
 Ruminate heedless of the scene outspread 
 Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away 
 From inland regions to the distant main. 
 Man views it, and admires ; but rests content 
 With what he views. The landscape has his praise. 
 But not its Author. Unconcerned who formed 
 The paradise he sees, he finds it such ; 
 And, such well-pleased to find it, asks no more. 
 Not so the mind that has been touched from 
 
 heaven, 
 And in the school of sacred wisdom taught, 
 To read His wonders, in whose thought the world. 
 Fair as it is, existed ere it was. 
 Not for its own sake merely, but for His 
 Much more, who fashioned it, he gives it praise ; 
 Praise that from earth resulting, as it ought. 
 To earth's acknowledged sovereign, finds at once 
 Its only just proprietor in Him. 
 
 THE CHRISTI1.V SEES OOD IS AIL TmXOS. 
 
 The soul that sees Him, or receives sublimed 
 Xow faculties, or learns at least to employ 
 More worthily the powers she owned before ; 
 Discerns in all things what, with stupid gaze 
 Of ignorance, till then she overlooked, 
 A ray of heavenly light, gilding all forms 
 Terrestrial in the vast and the minute — 
 
 The unambiguous footsteps of the God, 
 Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing. 
 And wheels His throne upon the rolling worlds. 
 Much conversant with heaven, she often holds 
 With those fair ministers of liglit to man. 
 That fill the skies nightly with silent pomp, 
 Sweet conference. 
 
 THE STARS.— 
 
 Al-OSTROrilE TO 1 
 
 Inquires what strains wore they 
 With which heaven rang, when every star, in haste 
 To gratulate the new-created earth. 
 Sent forth a voice, and all the sons of God 
 Shouted for joy. — 'Tell me, ye shining hosts. 
 That navigate a sea that knows no storms. 
 Beneath a vault unsullied with a cloud, 
 If from your elevation, whence ye view 
 Distinctly scones invisible to man. 
 And systems of whose birth no tidings yet 
 Have reached this nether world, ye spy a race 
 Favored as ours ; transgressors from the womb, 
 And hasting to a gra.ve, yet doomed to rise, 
 And to possess a brighter heaven than yours ? 
 As one, who, long detained on foreign shores. 
 Pants to return, and when ho sees afar 
 His country's weather-bleached and battered rooks. 
 From the green wave emerging, darts an eye 
 Radiant with joy towards the happy land ; 
 So I with animatud Iiopus behold, 
 Aii'l hi.ii; y 'iiiil: \\ I'h, \'iiur boarav fires. 
 
 Til,, 
 
 Love kindles us 1 gaze. 1 feel d 
 That give assurance of their owr 
 And that, infused from heaven, i 
 
 TUE LAMP OF TUB WORD, THE OOIDE TO XATTRE. 
 
 So reads he Nature, whom the lamp of truth 
 Illuminates. Thy lamp, mysterious Word ! 
 Which whoso sees no longer wanders lost. 
 With intellects bemazed in endless doubt. 
 But runs the road of wisdom. Thou hast built. 
 With means that were not till by Thee employed. 
 Worlds, that had never been hadstThoa in strength 
 Been less, or less benevolent than strong. 
 They are thy witnesses, who speak thy power 
 And goodness infinite, but speak in ears 
 That hear not, or receive not their report. 
 In vain thy creatures testify of Thee, 
 Till Thou proclaim Thyself. Theirs is indeed 
 A teaching voice ; but 't is the praise of thine. 
 That whom it teaches it makes prompt to learn. 
 And with the boon gives talents for its use. 
 
 Till Thou art heard, imaginations vain 
 Possess the heart, and fables false as bell ; 
 Yet, deemed oracular, lure down to death 
 
476 
 
 KURAL POETRY. 
 
 The uninformed and heedless souls of men. 
 We give to chance, blind chance, ourselTcs as blind, 
 The glory of thy work ; which yet appears 
 Perfect and unimpeachable of blame. 
 Challenging human scrutiny, and proved 
 Then skilful most when most severely judged. 
 But chance is not ; or is not where Thou reign'st : 
 Thy Providence forbids that fickle power 
 (If power she be, that works but to confound) 
 To mix her wild vagaries with thy laws. 
 
 ESSLAVED BT GODS WE DOTE ON, ONLT BY RECEfVING THE 
 
 Yet thus we dote, refusing while we can 
 Instruction, and inventing to ourselves 
 Gods such as guilt makes welcome ; gods that sleep, 
 Or disregard our follies, or that sit 
 Amused spectators of this bustling stage. 
 Thee we reject, unable to abide 
 Thy purity, till pure as Thou art pure, 
 Made such by Thee, we love Thee for that cause, 
 For which we shunned and hated Thee before. 
 Then we are free. Then liberty, like day. 
 Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from heaven 
 Fires all the faculties with glorious joy. 
 A voice is heard, that mortal ears hear not, 
 Till Thou hast touched them ; 't is the voice of song, 
 A loud Hosanna sent from all thy works ; 
 Which he that hears it with a shout repeats. 
 And adds his rapture to the general praise. 
 
 In that blest moment Nature, throwing wide 
 Her veil opaque, discloses with a smile 
 The Author of her beauties,^ who, retired 
 Behind his own creation, works unseen 
 By the impure, and hears his power denied. 
 
 Thou art the source and centre of all minds. 
 Their only point of rest, eternal AVord I 
 From Thee departing they are lost, and rove 
 At random without honor, hope, or peace. 
 From Thee is all that soothes the life of man. 
 His high endeavor, and his glad success. 
 His strength to suffer, and his will to serve. 
 But, 0, Thou bounteous Giver of all good. 
 Thou art of all thy gifts Thyself the crown ! 
 Give what Thou canst, without Thee we are poor ; 
 And with Thee rich, take what Thou wilt away. 
 
 [ Compare Wordsworth: 
 
 1- privilege, 
 life, to lead 
 
 Stiail e'er [jreviiil uyaiiist us, or disturb 
 Our cheerful faith that all which we behold 
 Is full of blessings.* 
 
 'WINTER WALK AT NOON.' 
 
 destructiun , ! i ' ■ 
 sisted on. \|.L. 
 author on aiiiiii:il 
 
 There is in souls a sympathy with sounds, 
 And as the mind is pitched the ear is pleased 
 With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave ; 
 Some chord in unison with what we hear 
 Is touched within us, and the heart replies. 
 How soft the music of those village bells, 
 Falling at intervals upon the ear 
 In cadence sweet, now dying all aw.ay, 
 Now pealing loud again, and louder still. 
 Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on ! 
 With easy force it opens all the cells 
 Where memory slept. Wherever I have heard 
 A kindred melody, the scene recurs, 
 And with it all its pleasures and its pains. 
 
 Such comprehensive views the spirit takes. 
 That in a few short moments I retrace 
 (As in a map the voyager his course) 
 The windings of my way through many years. 
 Short as in retrospect the journey seems. 
 It seemed not always short ; the rugged path, 
 And prospect oft so dreary and forlorn. 
 Moved many a sigh at its disheartening length. 
 Yet feeling present evils, while the past 
 Faintly impress the mind, or not at all. 
 How readily we wish time spent revoked, 
 That we might try the ground again, where once 
 (Through inexperience, as we now perceive) 
 We missed that happiness we might have found ! 
 
 Some friend is gone, perhaps his son's best friend, 
 A father, whose authority, in show 
 When most severe, and mustering all its force. 
 Was but the graver countenance of love ; 
 Whose favor, like the clouds of spring, might lower, 
 And utter now and then an awful voice. 
 But had a blessing in its darkest frown. 
 Threatening at once and nourishing the plant. 
 We loved, but not enough, the gentle hand 
 That reared us. At a thoughtless age, allured 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 477 
 
 By every gilded folly, we renounced 
 
 His sheltering side, and wilfully forewent 
 
 That converse, which wo now in vain regret. 
 
 How gladly would the man recall to life 
 
 The boy's neglected sire ! a mother too. 
 
 That softer friend, perhaps more gladly still. 
 
 Might he demand thom at the gates of death. 
 
 Sorrow has, since they wont, subdued and tamed 
 
 The playful humor ; ho could now endure 
 
 (Himself grown sober in the vale of tears), 
 
 And feel a parent's presence no restraint. 
 
 But not to understand a treasure's worth, 
 
 Till time has stolen away the slighted good. 
 
 Is cause of half the Rovcrty we feel. 
 
 And makes the world the wilderness it is. 
 
 The few that pray at all pray oft amiss, 
 
 And, sceliii^ grace to improve the prize they hold 
 
 Would urge a wiser suit than asking more. 
 
 The night was winter in his roughest mood ; 
 The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon, 
 Upon the southern side of the slant hills, 
 And where the woods fence off the northern blast, 
 The season smiles, resigning all its rage, 
 And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue 
 Without a cloud, and white without a speck 
 The dazzling splendor of the scene below. 
 
 THE BELrEY.T«WBB ASD rrS MUSIC. — ' 
 
 Again the harmony comes o'er the vale ; 
 And through tlie trees I view the embattled tower, 
 Whence all the music. I again perceive 
 
 The soothing influon^'" •>( tli.' wnli.'.l strains. 
 And settle in soft itiii-:'iL- > 1 :i' il • 
 
 The walk, still n-i I" '. "i i ' mimI elms, 
 
 Whose outspreail luair !i' - ^■^■ in. I, ihe glade. 
 The roof, though m<.vablo thr.m-li all its length 
 As the wind sways it, has yet well sufficed. 
 And, intercepting in their silent fall 
 The frequent flakes, has kept a path for mo. 
 No noise is here, or none that hinders thought. 
 
 TOE nOBlX IS WISTEK j TISKUNU ICEDKI.PS. 
 
 The redbreast warbles still, but is content 
 With slender notes, and more than half suppressed; 
 Pleased with his solitude, and flitting light 
 From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes 
 From many a twig the pendent drops of ice, 
 That tinkle in the withered leaves below. 
 Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft, 
 Charms more than silence. 
 
 MEDlTiTIOS. — DIFFERENCE BETWEEX K.VOWLEDQE AND WIS- 
 
 Meditation here 
 May think down hours to moments. Hero the heart 
 May give a useful lesson to the head. 
 And learning wiser grow without his books. 
 Knowledge and Wisdom, far from being one, 
 Have ofttimcs no connection. Knowledge dwells 
 In heads replete with thoughts of other men ; 
 
 Wisdom, in minds attentive to their own. 
 Knowledge, » rude unprofitable mass. 
 The mere materials with which Wisdom builds, 
 Till smoothed, and squared, and fitted to its place. 
 Does but encumber wlioin it seems to enrich. 
 Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much ; 
 Wisdom is humble that ho knows no more. 
 
 ABl-SfS or BOOK-READING. 
 
 Books are not seldom talismans and spells, 
 By which the magic art of shrewder wits 
 Holds an unthinking multitude enthralled. 
 Some to the fascination of a name 
 Surrender judgment, hoodwinked. Some the stylo 
 Infatuates, and through labyrinths and wilds 
 Of error leads them, by a tunc entranced. 
 While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear 
 The insupportable fatigue of thought. 
 And swallowing therefore, without pause or choice, 
 The total grist unsifted, husks and all. 
 
 THE BOOK OF NATl'KB EXCITES, SOT SMOTBFJa TUODCBT. 
 
 But trees and rivulets, whose rapid course 
 Defies the check of Winter, haunts of deer. 
 And sheep-walks populous with bleating lambs, 
 And lanes in which the primrose ere her time 
 Peeps through the moss that clothes the hawthorn 
 
 Deceive no student. Wisdom there, ond truth, 
 
 Not shy, as in the world, and to be won 
 
 By slow solicitation, seize at once 
 
 The roving thought, and fix it on themselves. 
 
 WONDERS OF NATURE. — WHY CXFELT. 
 
 What prodigies can Power Divine perform 
 More grand than it produces year by year — 
 And all in sight of inattentive man? 
 Familiar with the effect, we slight the cause, 
 And in the constancy of Nature's course, 
 The regular return of genial months, 
 And renovation of a faded world. 
 See naught to wonder at. Should God again, 
 As once in Gibeon, interrupt the race 
 Of the undeviating and punctual sun, 
 How would the world admire ! but speaks it less 
 An agency divine, to make him know 
 His moment when to sink and when to rise, 
 Age after ago, than to arrest his course ? 
 All wo behold is miracle ; but, seen 
 So duly, all is miracle in vain. 
 
 THE SLEEP or THE VEGETABLE WORLD -, ITS AWAKING. 
 
 Where now the vital energy that moved. 
 While Summer was, the pure and subtle lymph 
 Through the imperceptible meandering veins 
 Of leaf and flower ? It sleeps ; and the icy touch 
 Of unprolifie Winter has impressed 
 A cold stagnation on the intestine tide. 
 But let the months go round, a few short months. 
 And all shall be restored. These naked shoots, 
 Barren as lances, among which the wind 
 Makes wintry music, sighing as it goes. 
 Shall put their graceful foliage on again. 
 
478 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 And, more aspiring, and. with ampler spread, [lost. 
 Shall boast new charms, and more than they have 
 Then each, in its peculiar honors clad, 
 Shall publish even to the distant eye 
 Its family and tribe. 
 
 SHBDBBERT BKVITED. — THE LAB0BNCM ; SYRISGA } ROSE; 
 CYPRESS ; YEW ; LILAC. 
 
 Laburnum, rich 
 In streaming gold ; syringa, ivory pure ; 
 The scentless and the scented rose ; this red, 
 And of an humbler growth, the other ^ tall, 
 And throwing up into the darkest gloom 
 Of neighboring cypress, or more sable yew. 
 Her silver globes, light as the foamy surf. 
 That the wind severs from the broken wave ; 
 The lilac, various in array, now white. 
 Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set 
 With purple spikes pyramidal, as if 
 Studious of ornament, yet unresolved 
 Which hue she most approved, she chose them all ; 
 
 Copious of flowers, the woodbine, pale and wan. 
 But well compensating her sickly looks 
 With never-cloying odors, early and late ; 
 Hypericum all bloom, so thick a swarm 
 Of flowers, like flies, clothing her slender rods. 
 That scarce a leaf appears ; mezereon too. 
 Though leafless, well attired, and thick beset 
 With blushing wreaths, investing every spray ; 
 Altha;a with the purple eye j the broom, 
 Yellow and bright, as bullion unalloyed, 
 Her blossoms ; and, luxuriant above all. 
 The jasmine, throwing wide her elegant sweets. 
 The deep dark green of whose unvarnished leaf 
 Makes more conspicuous, and illumines more 
 The bright profusion of her scattered stars. 
 
 PERPETUAL SDCCESSION OF DEATH AND LIFE. — THE SODL OF 
 
 These have been, and these shall be in their day; 
 And all this uniform, uncolored scene 
 Shall be dismantled of its fleecy load. 
 And flush into variety again. 
 From dearth to plenty, and from death to life, 
 Is Nature's progress, when she lectures man 
 In heavenly truth ; evincing, as she makes 
 The grand transition, that there lives and works 
 A soul in all things, and that soul is God. 
 
 The beauties of the wilderness are His, 
 That makes so gay the solitary place. 
 Where no eye sees them. And the fairer forms 
 That cultivation glories in are his. 
 He sets the bright procession on its way. 
 And marshals all the order of the year ; 
 He marks the bounds which Winter may not pass, 
 And blunts his pointed fury ; in its case, 
 Russet and rude, folds up the tender germ, 
 I The guelder-rose. 
 
 Uninjured, with inimitable art ; 
 
 And, ere one flowery season fades and dies, 
 
 Designs the blooming wonders of the next. 
 
 Some say that in the origin of things. 
 When all creation started into birth. 
 The infant elements received a law. 
 
 From which they swmv mit -i , That under for 
 
 Of that controlling' ..kImlmio. iI,>.\ move, 
 And need not his inniM .iiit li.uil. Who first 
 Prescribed their cuui.-u, U, n.v,iihiW it now. 
 Thus dream they, and cuiitrivo to save a God 
 The encumbrance of his own concerns, and spare 
 The great Artificer of all that moves 
 The stress of a continual act, the pain - 
 Of unremitted vigilance and care, 
 As too laborious and severe a task. 
 
 So man, the moth, is not afraid, it seems. 
 To span omnipotence, and measure might. 
 That knows no measure, by the scanty rule 
 And standard of his own, that is to-day, 
 And is not ere to-morrow's sun go down. 
 But how should matter occupy a charge. 
 Dull as it is, and satisfy a law 
 So vast in its demands, unless impelled 
 To ceaseless service by a ceaseless force. 
 And under pressure of some ( 
 
 The Lui'l ni :,ii, lliiiirli through all difl'used, 
 Sustains, uud ii tin.' Utu uf M that lives. 
 Nature is but a name for an efi'ect, 
 Whose cause is God. He feeds the sacred fire. 
 By which the mighty process is maintained. 
 Who sleeps not, is ii.it mary ; in uimse sight 
 Slow circling age^ ;iH' :i- ti ;in-iiiil ilav-; ■ 
 Whose work is withniu l:il„,r ; ni,n^^. designs 
 No flaw deforms, uo dilliculty tlnviuts ; 
 And whose beneficence uo charge exhausts. 
 
 Him blind antiquity profaned, not served. 
 With self-taught rites, and under various names, 
 Female and male, Pomona, Pales, Pan, 
 And Flora, and Vertumnus ; peopling earth 
 With tutelary goddesses and gods. 
 That were not ; and commending as they would 
 To each some province, garden, field, or grove. 
 But all are under one. 
 
 CHRIST, THE GOD OF NATURE AND OF BEAUTY. — EFFECTS OF 
 ROOFS OF HIS CONSTANT 
 
 One spirit — His 
 Who wore the platted thorns with bleeding brows - 
 Rules universal nature. Not a flower 
 But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain. 
 Of his unrivalled pencil. He inspires 
 Their balmy odors, and imparts their hues. 
 And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes. 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 In grains as oountlosis as the sea-sido sands, 
 
 The forma with which Ho sprinkles all tho earth. 
 
 Happy who walks with Him ! whom what ho finda 
 
 Of Oavor or of scout in fruit or flower, 
 
 Or what ho views of beautiful or grand 
 
 In nature, from tho broad majestic oak 
 
 To tho green blade that twinkles in the sun, 
 
 Prompts with romenibranoo of a present tSod. 
 
 His prosonoo, who made all so fair, perceived. 
 
 Makes all still fairer. As with Him no scene 
 
 Is dreary, so with Him all seasons please. 
 
 Though Winter had been none, had man been true, 
 
 And earth bo punished for its tenant's sake, 
 
 Yot not in vengeance ; as this smiling sky, 
 
 So soon succeeding such an angry night, 
 
 And these dissolving snows, and this clear stream 
 
 Recovering fast its liquid music, prove. 
 
 CHESS, BILLIARDS, SlIOPPISO, 
 
 Who, then, tb:it lii- .1 t 
 To contcmplati'.M, -n i 
 
 frien 
 
 now EMPTV ! 
 
 ig and tuned 
 
 h1 board, 
 
 Would waste utt.iiti II •■ ''•■ 
 
 His host of wooden wairiuis tu aod fro 
 
 Marching and countermarching, with an eye 
 
 As fixed as marble, with a forehead ridged 
 
 And furrowed into storms, and with a hand 
 
 Trembling, as if eternity were hung 
 
 In balance on his conduct of a pin ? 
 
 Nor envies he aught more their idle sport. 
 
 Who pant with application misapplied 
 
 To trivial toys, and, pushing ivory balls 
 
 Across a velvet level, feel a joy 
 
 Akin to rapture, when the bauble finds 
 
 Its destined goal, of difficult access. 
 
 Nor deems he wiser him, who gives his noon 
 
 To Miss, the mercer's plague, from shop to shop 
 
 Waudoring, and littering with unfolded silks 
 
 The polished counter, and approving none. 
 
 Or promising with smiles to call again. 
 
 THE COXCOUB ( 
 
 Nor him, who by his vanity seduced, 
 And soothed into a dream that he discerns 
 The difierence of a Guido from a daub, 
 Freiiuents the crowded auction : stationed there 
 As duly as the Langford of the show, 
 With glass at eye, and catalogue in hand, 
 And tongue accomplished in the fulsome eant 
 And pedantry, that coxcombs learn with ease ; 
 Oft as the price-deciding hammer falls. 
 He notes it in his book, then raps his box. 
 Swears 'tis a bargain, rails at his hard fate, 
 That he has let it pass — but never bids. 
 
 THE poet's SBCLUDKD WALK. — VILLAGE CHILDREN OATHER- 
 ma KI.NQ-CUPS, DAISIES, A.SD WATER-CKKSSKS. 
 
 Here unmolested, through whatever sign 
 The sun proceeds, I wander. Neither miit, 
 Nor freezing sky, nor sultry, checking mo. 
 Nor stranger, intermeddling with my joy. 
 
 Even in tho spring and playtime of the year. 
 That calls the unwonted villager abroad 
 With all her little ones, a sportive train, 
 To gather king-eups in the yellow mead. 
 And prink their hair with daisies, or to pick 
 A cheap but wholesome salad from the brook, — 
 Those shades are all my own. 
 
 THE HAKE ; STOCK-DOVE ; SQUIBRKI 
 
 The timorous hare, 
 Grown so familiar with her frequent guest. 
 Scarce shuns mo j and the stock-dove, unalarmod, 
 Sits cooing in the pine-tree, nor suspends 
 His long love-ditty for my near approach. 
 Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm. 
 That ago or injury has hollowed deep, 
 Where on lii- I ' '' " ' '1 miitted leaves. 
 Ho hasout-l. ! I iitures forth 
 
 Tho squirrel, lliiiini, i' 1'. -"1 I'oH of play ; 
 Me sees me, and at on.'c, swilt as a bird, [brush, 
 Ascends tho neighboring beech ; there whisks his 
 And perks his ears, and stamps, and erics aloud, 
 With all the prettiness of feigned alarm. 
 And anger insignificantly fierce. 
 
 Tho heart is hard in nature, and unfit 
 
 For human fellowship, as being void 
 
 Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike 
 
 To love and friendship both, that is not pleased 
 
 With sight of animals enjoying life, 
 
 Nor feels their happiness augment his own. 
 
 The bounding fawn, that darts across the glade 
 
 When none pursues, through more delight of heart. 
 
 And spirits buoyant with excess of glee ; 
 
 The horse as wanton, and almost as fleet. 
 
 That skims tho spacious meadow at full speed. 
 
 Then stops, and snorts, and, throwing high his 
 
 Starts to the voluntary race again ; [heels, 
 
 The very kinc, that gambol at high noon, 
 
 Tho total herd receiving first from one. 
 
 That leads the danco, a summons to be gay. 
 
 Though wild their strange vagaries, and uncouth 
 
 Their ctTorts, yet resolved with one consent 
 
 To give such act and utterance as they may 
 
 To ecstasy too big to be suppressed ; — 
 
 These, and a thousand images of bliss, 
 
 ' With which kind Nature graces every scene, 
 Where cruel man defeats not her design, 
 Impart to tho benevolent, who wish 
 All that are capable of pleasure pleased, 
 A far superior happiness to theirs, 
 Tho comfort of a reasonable joy. 
 
 Man scarce had risen, obedient to his call 
 Who formed him from the dust, his future grave, 
 When he was crowned as never king was since. 
 God set tho diadem upon his head, 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 And angel choirs attended. Wondering stood 
 
 The new-made monarch, while before him passed. 
 
 All happy, and all perfect in their kind. 
 
 The creatures, summoned from their various haunts. 
 
 To see their sovereign, and confess his sway. 
 
 Vast was his empire, absolute his power. 
 
 Or bounded only by a law whose force 
 
 'Twas his sublimest privilege to feel 
 
 And own, — the law of universal love. 
 
 Ho ruled with meekness, they obeyed with joy ; 
 
 No cruel purpose lurked within his heart. 
 
 And no distrust of his intent in theirs. 
 
 So Eden was a scene of harmless sport. 
 
 Where kindness on his part, who ruled the whole, 
 
 Begat a tranquil confidence in all. 
 
 And fear as yet was not, nor cause for fear. 
 
 But sin marred all ; and the revolt of man. 
 That source of evils not exhausted yet. 
 Was punished with revolt of his from him. 
 Garden of God, how terrible the change [heart, 
 Thy groves and lawns then witnessed ! Every 
 Each animal, of every name, conceived 
 A jealousy, and an instinctive fear, 
 And, conscious of some danger, either fled 
 Precipitate the loathed abode of man, 
 Or growled defiance in such angry sort. 
 As taught him too to tremble in his turn. 
 Thus harmony and family accord 
 Were driven from Paradise ; and in that hour 
 The seeds of cruelty, that since have swelled 
 To such gigantic and enormous growth, 
 Were sown in human nature's fruitful soil. 
 Hence date the persecution and the pain 
 That man inflicts on all inferior kinds, 
 Regardless of their plaints. 
 
 To make him sport. 
 To gratify the frenzy of his wrath, 
 Or his base gluttony, are causes good 
 And just in his account, why bird and boast 
 Should suSer torture, and the streams be dyed 
 With blood of their inhabitants impaled. 
 Earth groans beneath the burden of a war 
 Waged with defenceless innocence, while he. 
 Not satisfied to prey on all around, 
 Adds ten-fold bitterness to death by pangs 
 Needless, and first torments ere he devours. 
 
 And howl and roar as likes them, uncontrolled ; 
 Nor ask his leave to slumber or to play. 
 Woe to the tyrant, if he dare intrude 
 AYithin the confines of their wild domain : 
 The lion tells himj 'I am monarch here ; ' 
 And if he spare him, spares him on the terms 
 Of royal mercy, and through generous scorn 
 To rend a victim trembling at his foot. 
 
 by force of instinct drawn. 
 Or by necessity constrained, they live 
 Dependent upon man ; those in his fields. 
 These at his crib, and some beneath his roof. 
 They prove too often at how dear a rate 
 He sells protection. — Witness at his foot 
 The spaniel dying for some venial fault 
 Under dissection of the knotted scourge ; 
 Witness the patient ox, with stripes and yells 
 Driven to the slaughter, goaded, as he runs, 
 To madness ; while the savage at his heels 
 Laughs at the frantic sufi'erer's fury, spent 
 Upon the guiltless passenger o'erthrown. 
 He too is witness, noblest of the train 
 That wait on man, the flight-performing horse ; 
 With unsuspecting readiness he takes 
 His murderer on his back, and, pushed all day. 
 With bleeding sides and flanks, that heave for life. 
 To the far-distant goal, arrives and dies. 
 
 THE LAW SHOCLD PREVENT CRUELTY TO iNI.MALS. 
 
 So little mercy shows who needs so much ! 
 Does law, so jealous in the cause of man. 
 Denounce no doom on the delinquent? None. 
 He lives, and o'er his brimming beaker boasts 
 (As if barbarity were high desert) 
 The inglorious feat, and, clamorous in praise 
 Of the poor brute, seems wisely to suppose 
 The honors of his matchless horse his own. 
 But many a crime, deemed innocent on earth. 
 Is registered in heaven ; and these no doubt 
 Have each their record, with a curse annexed. 
 
 WILDIRNBSS. — THE LIO.N'S MiGNiNIMlTT. 
 
 Now happiest they that occupy the scenes 
 The most remote from his abhorred resort. 
 Whom once, as delegate of God on earth. 
 They feared, and as his perfect image loved. 
 The wilderness is theirs, with all its caves. 
 Its hollow glens, its thickets, and its plains, 
 Unvisited by man. There they are free. 
 
 [ Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, 
 I But God will never. When He charged the Jew 
 I To assist his foe's down-fallen beast to rise ; 
 And when the bush-exploring boy, that seized 
 The young, to let the parent bird go free ; 
 Proved He not plainly that his meaner works 
 Are yet his care, and have an interest all, 
 All, in the universal Father's love ? 
 On Noah, and in him on all mankind. 
 The charter was conferred, by which we hold 
 The flesh of animals in foe, and claim 
 O'er all we feed on power of life and death. 
 But read the instrument, and mark it well : 
 The oppression of a tyrannous control 
 Can find no warrant there. Feed, then, and yield 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 481 
 
 Thanks for thy food. Carnivorous, through sin, 
 Feed on the slain, but spare the living brute ! 
 
 The Oovernor of all. Himself to nil 
 So bountiful, in whose attentive car 
 The unfledged raven and the lion's whelp 
 Plead not in vain for pity, on the pangs 
 Of hunger unaasungcd, has interposed 
 Not seldom his avenging arm, to smito 
 The injurious trampler upon Nature's law, 
 That claims forbearance even for a brute. 
 Ho hates the hardness of a Balaam's hinrt ; 
 And, prophet as he was, he might not strike 
 Thu blauicless animal, without rebuke, 
 On which ho rode. Her opportune ofTcnoe 
 Saved him, or the unrelenting seer had died. 
 He sees that human equity is slack 
 To interfere, though in so just a cause ; 
 And makes the task his own. Inspiring dumb 
 And helpless victims with a sense so keen 
 Of injury, with such knowledge of their strength, 
 And such sagacity to take revenge. 
 That oft the beast has seemed to judge the man. 
 
 STORY OF MISAGATm'Sj THE HORSE AVENGED. — EVANDER. 
 
 An ancient, not a legendary tale, 
 By one of sound intelligence rehearsed 
 (4f such who plead for Providence may seem 
 In modern eyes), shall make the doctrine clear. 
 
 Where England, stretched toward the setting sun, 
 Narrow and long, o'erlooks the western wave, 
 Dwelt young Misagathus ; a scorner he 
 Of God and goodness, atheist in ostcnt. 
 Vicious in act, in temper savage-fierce. 
 He journeyed ; and his chance was, as he went. 
 To join a traveller, of far different note, 
 Evandcr, famed for piety, for years 
 Deserving honor, but for wisdom more. 
 Fame had not left the venerable man 
 A stranger to the manners of the youth, 
 Whose face too was familiar to his view. 
 Their way was on the margin of the land. 
 O'er the green summit of the rocks, whose base 
 Beats back the roaring surge, scarce heard so high. 
 The charity, that warmed his heart, was moved 
 At sight of the man-monster. With a smile 
 Gentle, and affable, and full of grace, 
 As fearful of offending whom he wished 
 Much to persuade, ho plied his car with truths 
 Not harshly thundered forth or rudely pressed, 
 But, like his purpose, gracious, kind, and sweet. 
 ' And dost thou dream,' the impenetrable man 
 Exclaimed, ' that me the lullabies of age. 
 And fantasies of dotards such as thou. 
 Can cheat, or move a moment's fear in mo ? 
 Mark now the proof I give thee, that the brovo 
 Need no such aids as superstition lends 
 To steel their hearts against the dread of death.' 
 He spoke, and to the precipice at hand 
 
 Pushed vitb a madman's fury, Fancy shrinks. 
 
 And the blood thrills and curdles, at the thought 
 
 Of such a gulf as ho designed his grave. 
 
 But, though the felon on his back could dare 
 
 The dreadful leap, more rational, his steed 
 
 Declined the death, and, wheeling swiftly round. 
 
 Or ere his hoof had pressed the crumbling verge. 
 
 Baffled his rider, saved against his will. 
 
 The frenzy of the brain may bo redressed 
 
 By medicine well applied, but without grace 
 
 The heart's insanity admits no cure. 
 
 Enraged the more by what might have reformed 
 
 His horrible intent, again he sought 
 
 Destruction, with a zeal to be destroyed, 
 
 With sounding whip, and rowels dyed in blood. 
 
 But still in vain. The Providence that meant 
 
 A longer date to the far nobler beast 
 
 Spared yet again the ignoble for his sake. 
 
 And now, his prowess proved, and his sincere 
 
 Incurable obduracy evinced, [earned 
 
 His rage grew cool ; and, pleased perhaps to have 
 
 So cheaply the renown of that attempt. 
 
 With looks of some complacence ho resumed 
 
 His roa^l, deriding much the blank amaze 
 
 Of good Evander, still where he was left 
 
 Fixed motionless, and petrified with dread. 
 
 So on they fared. Discourse on other themes 
 
 Ensuing seemed to obliterate the past ; 
 
 And tamer far for so much fury shown 
 
 (As is the course of rash and fiery men). 
 
 The rude companion smiled, as if transformed. 
 
 But 't was a transient calm. A storm was near. 
 
 An unsuspected storm. His hour was come. 
 
 The impious di:.ll.„^'rv ,,r puw.Ts divine 
 
 Wasnowtoli-^nnili;.t I i> mi . n, th"iigU slow to wrath. 
 
 Is I 
 
 ■ith i 
 
 od. 
 
 His horse, as lie li;ul r;in;,^lit hi- in; 
 Snorting, and starting into sudden nige. 
 Unbidden, and not now to be controlled. 
 Rushed to the cliff, and, having reached it, stood. 
 At once the shook unseated him : he flew 
 Sheer o'er the craggy barrier ; and, immersed 
 Deep in the flood, found, when he sought it not, 
 The death he had deserved, and died alone. 
 So God wrought double justice ; made the fool 
 The victim of his own tremendous choice. 
 And taught a brute the way to safe revenge. 
 
 EVES A WORM NOT TO BE CAnSELBSSLY EILI.ED OR nCRT. — 
 
 I would not enter on my list of friends 
 (Though graced with polished manners and fine 
 Yet wanting sensibility) the man, [sense, 
 
 Who needlessly sots foot upon a. worm. 
 An inadvertent stop may crush tho snail. 
 That crawls at evening in the public path ; 
 But he that has humanity, forewarned. 
 Will tread aside and let tho reptile live. 
 The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight. 
 And charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes, 
 A visitor unwelcome, into scenes 
 
 61 
 
482 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 Sacred to neatness and repose, the alcove, 
 The chamber, or refectory, may die ; 
 A necessary act incurs no blame. 
 
 WHAT KILLING OF ANIMALS IS WRONG ', WHAT RIGHT. - 
 
 Not SO when, held within their proper bounds, 
 And guiltless of offence, they range the air. 
 Or take their pastime in the spacious field : 
 There they are privileged ; and he that bunts 
 Or harms them there is guilty of a wrong. 
 Disturbs the economy of Nature's realm. 
 Who, when she formed, designed tbein an abode. 
 The sum is this : If man's convenience, health, 
 Or safety, interfere, his rights and claims 
 Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. 
 Else they are all — the meanest things that are- 
 As free to live, and to enjoy that life. 
 As God was free to form them at the first. 
 Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all. 
 
 Ye therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons 
 To love it too. The spring-time of our years 
 Is soon dishonored and defiled in most 
 By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand 
 To check them. But, alas ! none sooner shoot, 
 If unrestrained, into luxuriant growth, 
 Than cruelty, most devilish of them all. 
 Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule 
 And righteous limitation of its act, 
 By which Heaven moves in pardoning guilty man 
 And he that shows none, being ripe in years. 
 And conscious of the outrage he commits, 
 Shall seek it, and not find it, in his turn. 
 
 ANIMALS. 
 
 Distinguished much by reason, and still more 
 By our capacity of grace divine. 
 From creatures that exist but for our sake. 
 Which, having served us, perish, we are held 
 Accountable ; and God some future day 
 Will reckon with us roundly for the abuse 
 Of what He deems no mean or trivial trust. 
 Superior as we are, they yet depend 
 Not more on human help than we on theirs. 
 Their strength, or speed, or vigilance, were given 
 In aid of our defects. 
 
 In some are found 
 Such teachable and apprehensive parts, 
 
 Matched with the exportness of the brutes in theii 
 
 Are ofttimes vanquished and thrown far behind. 
 
 Some show that nice sagacity of smell. 
 
 And read with such discernment, in the port 
 
 And figure of the man, his secret aim. 
 
 That oft we owe our safety to a skill 
 
 We could not teach, and must despair to learn. 
 
 But learn we might, if not too proud to stoop 
 To quadruped instructors, many a good 
 And useful quality, and virtue too, 
 Rarely exemplified among ourselves. 
 Attachment never to be weaned, or chained 
 By any change of fortune ; proof alike 
 Against unkindness, absence, and neglect ; 
 Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat 
 Can move or warp ; and gratitude for small 
 And trivial favors, lasting as the life. 
 And glistening even in the dying eye. 
 
 Man praises man. Desert in arts or arms 
 Wins public honor ; and ten thousand sit 
 Patiently present at a sacred song, 
 Commemnr:vtiMii ni;i<l ; content to hear 
 
 (0 WOndrilli! rllri't i )l' 1; I U.^ic's poWCT !) 
 
 Messiah's, u In, y 1.., I l.n.k.I's sake. 
 
 But loss, iii.tliiiili.. ili:ii, .~aLTilege might serve — 
 
 (For, was it less, what heathen would have dared 
 
 To strip Jove's statue of his oaken wreath, 
 
 And hang it up in honor of a man ?) — 
 
 Much less might serve, when all that we design 
 
 Is but to gratify an itching ear. 
 
 And give the day to a musician's praise. 
 
 Remember Handel ? Who, that was not born 
 
 Deaf as the dead to harmony, forgets. 
 
 Or can, the more than Homer of his age ? 
 
 es — we remember him ; and while we praise 
 A talent so divine, remember too 
 That his most holy book, from Whom it came. 
 Was never meant, was never used before, 
 
 ! To buckram out the memory of a man. 
 But hush ! — the muse perhaps is too severe ; 
 And with a gravity beyond the size 
 
 ! And measure of the oS'ence rebukes a deed 
 Less impious than absurd, and owing more 
 To want of judgment than to wrong design. 
 So in the chapel of old Ely House, 
 When wandering Charles, who meant to be the third, 
 
 I Had fled from William, and the news was fresh. 
 The simple clerk, but loyal, did announce. 
 And eke did rear right merrily, two staves. 
 Sung to the praise and glory of King George ! 
 
 MAN PRAISES MAN. — GARRICK'S IDOLATERS SATIRIZED. 
 
 Man praises man ; and Garrick's memory next, 
 When time hath somewhat mellowed it, and made 
 The idol of our worship while he lived 
 The god of our idolatry once more. 
 Shall have its altar ; and the world shall go 
 In pilgrimage to bow before his shrine. 
 The theatre too small shall suffocate 
 Its squeezed contents, and more than it admits 
 Shall sigh at their exclusion, and return 
 I Ungratified. For there some noble lord 
 '. Shall stuff his shoulders with King Richard's bunch, ' 
 I Or wrap himself In Hamlet's inky cloak. 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 488 
 
 And strut, and storm, and straddle, stamp, and stare, 
 To show the world how Garriok did not act. 
 
 is IDOLATBTT I 
 
 l-LDBRRY-TBKB. 
 
 For Garriok wos o worshipper himself ; 
 Ho drew the liturgy, and framed tlie rites 
 And solemn ceremonial of the day. 
 And called the world to worship on the banks 
 Of Avon, famed in song. Ah ! pleasant proof 
 That piety has still in human hearts 
 Some place, a spark or two not yet extinct. 
 The mulberry-tree was hung with blooming wreaths ; 
 The mulberry-tree stood centre of the dance ; 
 The mulberry-tree was hymned with dulcet airs ; 
 And from his touchwood trunk the mulberry-trco 
 Supplied such relics us devotion holds 
 Still sacred, and preserves with pious care. 
 So 't was a hallowed time ; decorum reigned, 
 And mirth without offence. No few returned, 
 Doubtless, much edified, and all refreshed. 
 
 — Man praises man. The rabble, all alive 
 From tippling benches, cellars, stalls, and styes. 
 Swarm in the streets. The statesman of the day, 
 A pompous and slow-moving pageant, comes. 
 Some shout him, and some hang upon his oar. 
 To gaze in 's eyes, and bless him. Maidens wave 
 Their kerchiefs, and old women weep for joy : 
 While others, not so satisfied, unhorse 
 The gilded equipage, and, turning loose 
 His steeds, usurp a place they well deserve. 
 Why ? what has charmed tliem ? has ho saved the 
 No. Doth he purpose its salvation ? No. [state ? 
 Enchanting novelty, that moon at full. 
 That finds out every crevice of the head 
 That is not sound and perfect, hath in theirs 
 Wrought this disturbance. Dut tlie wane is near. 
 And his own cuttle must suffice him soon. 
 
 Thus idly do wo waste the breath of praise. 
 And dedicate a tribute, in its use 
 And just direction sacred, to a thing 
 Doomed to the dust, or lodged already there. 
 Encomium in old time was poets' work ; 
 But poets having lavishly long since 
 E.Khausted all materials of the art, 
 The task now falls into the public hand ; 
 And I, contented with an humbler theme. 
 Have poured my stream of panegyric down 
 The vale of nature, where it creeps, and winds 
 Among her lovely works, with a secure 
 And unambitious course, reflecting clear. 
 If not the virtues, yet the worth, of brutes. 
 And I am recompensed, and deem the toils 
 Of poetry not lost, if verso of mine 
 May stand between an animal and woe. 
 And teach one tyrant pity for his drudge. 
 
 TUB NRW RRA OP LOVB AND MRRCT APPROACHINO. 
 
 The groans of Nature in this nether world. 
 Which heaven has heard for ages, have au end. 
 Foretold by prophets, and by poets sung, 
 Whose fire was kindled at the prophets' lamp, 
 The time of rest, the promised Sabbath, comes. 
 Si.\ thousand years of sorrow have well nigh 
 Fulfilled their tilrdy and disostrous course 
 Over a sinful world ; and what remains 
 Of this tempestuous state of human things 
 Is merely as the working of a sea 
 Before a calm, that rooks itself to rest : 
 For He, whose oar the winds are, and the clouds 
 The dust, that waits upon his sultry march. 
 When sin hath moved him, and his wrath is hot. 
 Shall visit earth in mercy ; shall descend 
 Propitious in bis chariot paved witlvlove ; 
 And what his storms have blasted and defaced. 
 For man's revolt, shall with a smile repair. 
 
 Sweet is the harp of prophecy ; too sweet 
 Not to be Wronged by a mere mortal touch ; 
 Nor can the wonders it records be sung 
 To meaner music, and not suffer loss. 
 But when a poet, or when one like me, 
 Happy to rove among poetic flowers. 
 Though poor in skill to rear them, lights at In.«t 
 On some fair theme, some theme divinely fair. 
 Such is the impulse and the spur he feels 
 .To give it praise proportioned to its worth. 
 That not to attempt it, arduous as he deems 
 The labor, were a task more arduous still. 
 
 THE MILLEXXllM. — PARADISE RENEWED. 
 
 scenes surpassing; fable, and yet true. 
 Scenes of accomplished bliss ; which who can see, 
 Though but in distant prospect, and not feel 
 His soul refreshed with foretaste of the joy ? 
 Rivers of gladness water all the earth. 
 And clothe all climes with beauty ,- the reproach 
 Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field 
 Laughs with abundance ; and the land, once lean. 
 Or fertile only in ite own disgrace. 
 Exults to see its thistly curse repealed. 
 The various seasons woven into one. 
 And that one season an eternal Spring, 
 The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence. 
 For there is none to covet, all arc full. 
 The lion, and the libbard, and the bear. 
 Graze with the fearless flocks ; all bask at noon 
 Together, or all gambol in the shade 
 
 Of the ! 
 
 
 and < 
 
 nk one common stream. 
 
 Antipathies are none. No foe to man 
 Lurks in the serpent now : the mother sees. 
 And smiles to sec, her infant's playful hand 
 Stretched forth to dally with the crested worm. 
 To stroke his azure neck, or to receive 
 The lambent homage of his arrowy tongno. 
 and all mankind 
 
484 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 One Lord, one Father. Error has no place ; 
 
 That creeping pestilence is driven away ; 
 
 The breath of heaven has chased it. In the heart 
 
 No passion touches a discordant string ; 
 
 But all is harmony and love. Disease 
 
 Is not : the pure and uncontaminate blood 
 
 Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. 
 
 One song employs all nations ; and all cry, 
 
 ' Worthy the Lamb, for He was slain for us ! ' 
 
 The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks 
 
 Shout to each other, and the mountain tops 
 
 From distant mountains catch the flying joy ; 
 
 Till, nation after nation taught the strain. 
 
 Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round. 
 
 Behold the measure of the promise filled ; 
 
 See Salem built, the labor of a God ! 
 
 Bright as a sun the sacred city shines ; 
 
 All kingdoms and all princes of the earth 
 
 Flock to that light : the glory of all lands 
 
 Flows into her ; unbounded is her joy, 
 
 And endless her increase. Thy rams are there, 
 
 Nebaioth,' and the flocks of Kedar there ; 
 
 The looms of Ormus,- and the mines of Ind, 
 
 And Saba's ^ spicy groves, pay tribute there. 
 
 Praise is in all her gates : upon her walls, 
 
 And in her streets, and in her spacious courts. 
 
 Is heard salvation. Eastern .Java there 
 
 Kneels with the native of the farthest west ; 
 
 And ^Ethiopia spreads abroad the hand. 
 
 And worships. Her report has travelled forth 
 
 Into all lands. From every clime they come 
 
 To see thy beauty and to share thy joy, 
 
 Sion ! an assembly such as earth 
 
 Saw never, such as Heaven stoops down to see. 
 
 THE KESTOBATION I 
 
 TEEIR PRISTISE PER- 
 
 Thus heavenward all things tend. For all were 
 Perfect, and all must be at Icugth restored. [once 
 So God has greatly purposed ; Who would else 
 In his dishonored works Himself endure 
 Dishonor, and be wronged without redress. 
 Haste, then, and wheel away a shattered world. 
 Ye slow-revolving seasons ! we would see 
 (A sight to which our eyes arc strangers yet) 
 A world that does not dread and hate His laws, 
 And suffer for its crime ; would learn how fair 
 The creature is that God pronounces good, 
 How pleasant in itself what pleases Him. 
 
 i FAL 
 
 0, AS ] 
 
 Here every drop of honey hides a sting ; 
 Worms wind themsolvcs«into our sweetest flowers ; 
 And even the joy, that haply some poor heart 
 
 1 Nebaioth and Kedar, the sons 
 tors of the Arabs, in the prophet 
 to, may be reasonably considered 
 Gentiles at large. 
 
 - Orraus, the famous emporium of Asiatic 
 der the Portuguese ; it was on an island at t 
 of the Persian Gulf. 
 I 3 In South Arabia. 
 
 Derives from heaven, pure as the fountain is, 
 Is sullied in the stream, taking a taint 
 From touch of human lips, at best impure. 
 for a world in principle as chaste 
 As this is gross and selfish ! over which 
 Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway, 
 j That govern all things here, shouldering aside 
 I The meek and modest truth, and forcing her 
 I To seek a refuge from the tongue of strife 
 j In nooks obscure, far from the ways of men ; 
 I Where violence shall never lift the sword, 
 I Nor cunning justify the proud man's wrong. 
 Leaving the poor no remedy but tears : 
 Where he, that fills an office, shall esteem 
 The occasion it presents of doing good 
 More than the perquisite : where law shall speak 
 Seldom, and never but as wisdom prompts 
 And equity ; not jealous more to guard 
 A worthless form, than to decide aright : 
 Where fashion shall not sanctify abuse. 
 Nor smooth good breeding (supplemental grace) 
 With lean performance ape the work of love ! 
 
 Come, then, and, added to thy many crowns, 
 Receive yet one, the crown of all the earth. 
 Thou wlio alone ait worthy ! It was thine 
 By ancient covenant, ere nature's birth ; 
 And Thou hast made it thine by purchase since, 
 And overpaid its value with thy blood. 
 Thy saints proclaim Thee King ; and in their hearts 
 Thy title is engraven with a pen 
 Dipped in the founfiiin -f ■ ii lunl lu\o. 
 Thy saints proclaim I I. mlI thy delay 
 
 Gives courage to tl.' :i iiM they see 
 
 The dawn of thy l;i-( ;iil',.iil l-i,_ .Ir.ired, 
 Would creep into the tnuvels td' the hills, 
 And flee for safety to the falling rooks. 
 
 The very spirit of the world is tired 
 Of its own taunting question, asked so long, 
 ' Where is tlic jininiisr >it" your Lord's approach?' 
 The infidri Ili- -Imi In- l«,lt^ away, 
 Till, his.>.h;,ii-ir,l ,|,m,r yielding none. 
 He gleans the Ijlanted shafts that have^recoiled, 
 And aims them at the shield of Truth again. 
 The veil is rent, rent too by priestly hands, 
 That hides divinity from mortal eyes ; 
 And all the mysteries to fiiith proposed. 
 Insulted and traduced, are cast aside. 
 As useless, to the moles and to the bats. 
 They nnw arc deemed the faithful, and are praised, 
 Alli.i, r,.n,t;iiit Hilly in rejecting Thee, 
 I'criy thy 'hmIImuiI with a martyr's zeal, 
 .\nij quit thvir nlliee for their error's sake. 
 Blind, and in love with darkness ! yet even these 
 Worthy, compared with sycophants, who kneel. 
 Thy name adoring, and then preach Thee man ! 
 
•WINTER — FEBRUAKY. 
 
 So fares thy ohnich. But how thy ohuroh may faro 
 The world takes little thought. Who will may 
 And what they will. All pastors arc alike [preach, 
 To wandering sheep resolved to follow none. 
 
 PLEASCRB AND GAIN' TnE WORLD*S COPS. — TUB KNO AT 
 
 Two gods divide them all — Pleasure and Gain : 
 For these they live, they sacrifice to these. 
 And in their service wage perpetual war [hearts, 
 With conscience ond with Thee. Lust in their 
 And mischief in their hands, they roam the earth, 
 To prey upon each other ; stubborn, fierce. 
 High-minded, foaming out their own disgrace. 
 Thy prophets speak of such ; and, noting down 
 The features of the last degenerate times, 
 Exhibit every lineament of those. 
 Come, then, and, added to thy many crowns, 
 Receive yet one, as radiant as the rest. 
 Due to thy last and most effectual work, 
 Thy word fulfilled, the conquest of a world ! 
 
 485 
 
 BIDS XOT THB monKST USBFCLSESS 
 
 Perhaps the self-approving, haughty AVorld, 
 That OS she sweeps him with her whistling silks 
 Scarce deigns to notice him, or, if she see, 
 Deems him a cipher in the works of God, 
 Receives advantage from his noiseless hours. 
 Of which she little dreams. Perhaps she owes 
 Her sunshine and her rain, her blooming .Spring 
 And plenteous harvest, to the prayer ho makes 
 When, Isaac-like, the solitary saint 
 Walks forth to meditate at eventide. 
 And think on her, who thinks not for herself. 
 Forgive him, then, thou bustler in concerns 
 i Of little worth, an idler in the best, 
 If, author of u - mU 1.;. r, .11,. I -,'mv goud, 
 He seek his pr^ ' ru. ans 
 That may ail\: , !■ 1: . imi.i i I.t. tliinc. 
 
 Nor, though hr Ir. li 111 I'l |.lllll uf life, 
 
 Engage no 
 Account hii 
 
 He is the happy man, whose life even now 
 Shows somewhat of that happier life to come ; 
 Who, doomed to an obscure but tranquil state. 
 Is pleased with it, and, were he free to choose. 
 Would make his fate his choice ; whom peace, the 
 Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith, [fruit 
 Prepare for happiness — bespeak him one 
 Content indeed to sojourn while he must 
 Below the skies, but having there his home. 
 The world o'erlooks him in her busy .search 
 Of objects, more illustrious in her view ; 
 And, occupied as earnestly as slio, 
 Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks the world. 
 She scorns his pleasures, for she knows them not ; 
 He seeks not hers, for he has proved them vain. 
 He cannot skim the ground like summer birds 
 Pursuing gilded Hies ; and such he deems 
 Her honors, her emoluments, her joys. 
 
 .ud eujuy much ease, 
 umbrance on the state, 
 
 Receiving benefits, and rendering none. 
 
 His sphere, though humble, if that humble sphere 
 j Shine with his fair e.\ample, — and though small 
 
 His influence, if that influence all be spent 
 ! In soothing sorrow and in quenching strife, 
 : In aiding helpless indigence, in works 
 
 From which at least a grateful few derive 
 
 Some tasto of c.,nir..rt in a world of woo — 
 
 Then Nt til.' -M,,. ,.:!:. .,,- -n,,! feSS 
 
 n-ell 
 
 Holds no ignoble, though a slighted, place. 
 
 VIRTUES MOBB FELT TBAS SEE.V. — TRCB 1 
 
 Therefore in contemplation is his bliss, [earth 
 Whose power is such, that whom she lifts from 
 She makes familiar with a heaven unseen. 
 And shows him glories yet to be revealed. 
 Not slothful he, though seeming unemployed, 
 And censured oft as useless. Stillest streams 
 Oft water fairest meadows, and the bird 
 That flutters least is longest on the wing. 
 AsK him, indeed, what trophies he has raised, 
 Or what achievements of immortal fame 
 He purposes, and he shall answer — None. 
 His warfare is within. There unfatigued 
 His fervent spirit labors. There he fights. 
 And there obta,ins fresh triumphs o'er himself, 
 And never-withering wreaths ; compared with which 
 The laurels that a Cwsar reaps are weeds. 
 
 The man whose virtues are more felt than seen 
 Must drop indeed the hope of public praise ; 
 But he may boast, what few that win it can. 
 That, if his country stand not by its skill, 
 
 ! At least his follies have not wrought her fall. 
 Polite refinement offers him in vain 
 Her golden tube, through which a sensual world 
 
 ! Draws gross impurity, and likes it well, 
 
 j The neat conveyance hiding all th' oSbnce. 
 Not that he peevishly rejects a mode 
 
 ! Because that world adopts it. If it bear 
 The stamp and clear impression of good sense, 
 
 I And be not costly more than of true worth, 
 
 [ He puts it on, and for decorum sake 
 Can wear it even as gracefully as she. 
 
 I She judges of refinement by the eye, 
 He by the test of conscience, and a heart 
 
 I Not soon deceived ; aware that what is base 
 No polish can make sterling ; and that vice, 
 Though well perfumed and elegantly dressed. 
 Like an unburied carcass triokcd-with floworSf 
 
 I Is but a garnished nuisance, fitter far 
 
 I For cleanly riddance than for fair attire. 
 
KURAL POETRY. COWPER TUSSER. 
 
 So life glides smoothly and by stealth away, 
 More golden than that ago of fablt-d gold 
 Renowned in ancient song ; not vexed with ca 
 Or stained with guilt, beneficent, apiiroved 
 Of God and man, and peaceful in its end. 
 So glide my life away ! and so at last, 
 My share of duties decently fulfilled. 
 May some disease, not tardy to perform 
 Its destined office, yet, with gentle stroke. 
 Dismiss me weary to a safe retreat. 
 Beneath the turf that I have often trod. 
 
 THE POET REVIEWS HIS 'TASK,' 
 
 It shall not grieve me then, that once, when 
 To dress a Sofa with the flowers of verse, [called 
 I played a while, obedient to the fair, 
 
 With that light task ; but soon, to please her more, 
 Whom flowers alone I knew would little please, 
 Let fall th' unfinished wreath, and roved for fruit ; 
 Roved far, and, gathered much ; some harsh, 't is 
 
 Picked from the thorns and briers of reproof. 
 But wholesome, well-digested ; grateful some 
 To palates that can taste immortal truth ; 
 Insipid else, and sure to be despised. 
 But all is in His hand, whose praise I seek. 
 In vain the poet sings, and the world hears, 
 If He regard not, though divine the theme. 
 'T is not in artful measures, in the chime 
 And idle tinkling of a minstrel's lyre. 
 To charm His ear, whose eye is on the heart ; 
 Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain, 
 ; Whose approbation — prosper even mine. 
 
 fusscr's 
 
 Jehniari's iitsbanhi/' 
 
 Forgotten t 
 
 Who layeth on dung ere he layeth on plow. 
 Such husbandry useth as thrift doth allow : 
 One month ere ye spread it, so still let it stand. 
 Ere over to plough it ye take it in hand.' * * 
 
 Sow peason and beans in the wane of the moon," 
 Who sowoth them sooner, he soweth too soon, 
 That they with the planet may rest and arise. 
 And flourish with bearing most plentifulwise. 
 Friend, harrow in time, by some manner of means. 
 Not only thy peason, but also thy beans ; * * 
 Both peason and beans sow afore ye do plow ; 
 The sooner ye harrow, the better for you. * * 
 
 Good provender laboring horses would have, 
 Good hay and good plenty plough-oxen do crave ; 
 To hale out thy muck and to plow up thy ground, 
 Or else it may hinder thee many a pound. 
 Who slacketh his tillage a carter to be, 
 For groat got abroad, at homo lose shall three ; 
 And so, by his doing, he brings out of heart 
 Both land for the corn and horse for the cart. 
 Who abuseth his cattle, and starves them for meat. 
 By carting or plowing, his gain is not great ; 
 Where he that with labor can use them aright, 
 Hath grain to his comfort, and cattle in plight. 
 
 Buy quickset at market, new gathered and small. 
 Buy bushes or willow to fence it withal ; 
 
 ie unapread, and without ploughing 
 ; practice and to reason. — Mavor. 
 •nt belief in planetary influences ; 
 yhich finds few advocates now. 
 
 Set willows to grow in the stead of a stake, 
 For cattle in summer a shadow to make. 
 Stick plenty of boughs among runcival pease. 
 To climber thereon, and to branch at their ease ; 
 So doing, more tender and greater they wex. 
 If peacock and turkey leave jobbing their hex. 
 Now sow, and go harrow, where redge ye did dr; 
 The seed of the bramble, with kernel and haw ; 
 Which covered, overly, sun to shut out. 
 Go see it be ditched and fenced about.i 
 
 Where banks be amended and newly up-cast, 
 Sow mustard-seed after a shower be past ; 
 Where plots full of nettles be noisome to eye, 
 Sow thereupon hemp-seed, and nettle will die. 
 
 Land-meadow that yearly is spared for hay. 
 Now fence it, and spare it, and dung it ye may. 
 Get mole-catcher cunningly mole for to kill, 
 And harrow and cast abroad every hill. * * 
 
 Friend, alway let this be a part of thy care, 
 For shift of good pasture lay pasture to spare. 
 ,So have you good feeding in bushets and leaze,^ 
 And quickly safe finding of cattle at ease. 
 
 When cattle may run about roving at will. 
 From pasture to pasture, poor belly to fill ; 
 Then pasture and cattle, both hungry and bare, 
 For want of good husbandry worser do fare. * * 
 
 1 Formerly common fields were fenced off from the pas- 
 tures by making a ridge of perhaps twenty or thirty feet, 
 which was sown with hips, haws, hazel-nuts, and such like, 
 : ditching it round, and weeding it at intervals. In due time 
 this became a productive coppice, and is what we now term 
 i a Shaw, or spring. — Mavor. This might be very useful on 
 1 our western prairies. —J. 2 Small closes near home. 
 
pastorals for fcbniarii. 
 
 BROWNE'S " RKSPECT TO AGE." 
 (A. D. 1614.) 
 
 Where is every piping lad, 
 That the fields are not yclad 
 
 With their milk-white sheep? 
 Tell mc : is it holiday, 
 Or if, in the month of May, 
 
 Use they long to sleep ? 
 
 PIERS. 
 
 Thomalin, 't is not too late, 
 For the turtle and her mate 
 
 Sitten yet in nest ; 
 And the thrustle hath not been 
 Gathering worms yet on the green, 
 
 But attends her rest. 
 Not a bird hath taught her young, 
 Nor her morning's lesson sung, 
 
 In the shady grove : 
 But the nightingale, in darlc, 
 Singing, wolse the mounting lark ; 
 
 She records her love. 
 Not the sun hath with his beams 
 Gilded yet our crystal streams 
 
 Rising from the sea. 
 Mists do crown the mountain's tops 
 And each pretty myrtle drops, 
 
 'T is but newly day. 
 Yet sec yonder (though unwist) 
 Some man comcth in the mist ; 
 
 Hast thou hira beheld? 
 With a dog, and staff in hand. 
 Limping for his eld. 
 
 Yes, I see him, and do know him. 
 And we all do rev'renco owe him ; 
 
 'T is the aged sire, 
 Neddy, that was wont to make 
 Such great feasting at the wake. 
 
 And the blessing-fire.' 
 Good old man ! see how he walks. 
 Painful and among the balks 
 
 Picking locks of wool ; 
 I have known the day when he 
 
 Had as much as any three. 
 
 When their lofts were full. 
 Underneath yond hanging rooks. 
 All the valley with his flocks 
 
 Was whilome overspread : 
 Ho had milch goats without poors. 
 Well-hung kine, and fattened steers 
 
 Many liundred head. 
 Wilkins' cote his dairy was. 
 For a dwelling it may pass 
 
 With the best in town. 
 Curds and creams, with other cheer, 
 Have I had there in the year 
 
 For a greeny gown. 
 Lasses kept it, as again 
 Were not fitted on the plain 
 
 For a lusty dance : 
 And at parting home would take us 
 Flawns or syllabubs to mako us 
 
 For our jouissancc. 
 And though some, in spite, would tell, 
 Yet old Neddy took it well ; 
 
 Bidding us again 
 Never at his cote be strange : — . 
 Unto him that wrought this change 
 
 Micklc be the pain ! 
 
 What disaster, Thomalin, 
 
 This mischance hath clothed him in, 
 
 Quickly tellon mo : 
 Rue I do his state the more. 
 That he clipped heretofore 
 
 Some felicity. 
 Have by night acoursed thieves 
 Slain his lambs or stolon bis beeves? 
 
 Or consuming fire 
 Brent his shearing-house, or stall. 
 Or a deluge drowned all ? 
 
 Tell mo it entire. 
 Have the winters been so set 
 To rain and snow, that they have wet 
 
 All his driest laire ; 
 By which means his sheep have got 
 Such a deadly, cureless rot. 
 
 That none living are ? 
 
 TBOMALIS. 
 
 Neither waves, nor thieves, nor fire, 
 Nor have rots impoorcd this sire, 
 
 Suretyship, nor yet 
 Was the usurer helping on 
 With bis damned extortion, 
 
 Nor the chains of debt. 
 
488 • RURAL POETRY. BROWNE FLETCHER. 
 
 
 But deceit, that ever lies, 
 
 THOttiLffl. 
 
 
 Strongest armed for treacheries 
 
 All's bereft him, 
 
 
 In a bosomed friend — 
 
 Save he hath a little croud 
 
 
 That (and only that) hath brought it, 
 
 (He in youth was of it proud), 
 
 
 Cursed be the head that wrought it ! 
 
 And a'dog to dance ; 
 
 
 And the basest end. 
 
 With them he, on holidays, 
 
 
 Grooms he had, and he did send them, 
 
 In the farmers' houses plays 
 
 
 With his herds aaeld to tend them. 
 
 
 
 Had they further been : 
 
 
 
 Sluggish, lazy, thriftless elves. 
 
 See : he 's near, let 's rise and meet him. 
 
 
 Sheep had better kept themselves 
 
 From the foxes teen. 
 Some would kill their sheep, and then 
 
 And with dues to old age greet him. 
 It is fitting 80. 
 
 
 Bring their master home again 
 
 THO.MALIN. 
 
 
 Nothing but the skin ; 
 
 'T is a motion good and sage. 
 
 
 Telling bun, how in the mom 
 
 Honor still is due to age ; 
 
 
 In the fold they found them torn. 
 
 Up and let us go. 
 
 
 And near lying lin. 
 
 
 
 If they went unto the fair 
 
 
 
 With a score of fattened ware, 
 
 
 
 And did chance to sell. 
 
 FLETCHER'S "SHEPHERD LIFE." 
 
 
 If old Neddy had again 
 
 Thrice, thrice happy, shepherd's life and state, 
 
 
 Half his own; I dare well sain. 
 
 When courts are happiness' unhappy pawns ! 
 
 
 That but seldom fell. 
 
 His cottage low, and safely humble gate, [fawns. 
 
 
 They at their return would say. 
 
 Shuts out proud Fortune, with her scorns and 
 
 
 Such a man, or such, would pay. 
 
 No feared treason breaks his quiet sleep : 
 
 
 Well known of your hyne. 
 
 Singing all day, his flocks he learns to keep ; 
 
 
 Alas, poor man ! that subtle knave 
 
 Himself as innocent as are his simple sheep. 
 
 
 Undid him and vaunts it brave, 
 
 
 
 Though his master pine. 
 
 No Serian worms he knows, that with their thread 
 
 
 Of his master he would beg 
 
 Draw out their silken lives ; nor silken pride : 
 
 
 Such a lamb that broke his leg : 
 
 His lambs' warm fleece well fits his little need. 
 
 
 And if there were none. 
 
 Not in that proud Sidonian tincture dyed : 
 
 
 To the fold by night he 'd hie, 
 
 No empty hopes, no courtly fears, him fright ; 
 
 
 And them hurt full ruefully, 
 
 Nor begging wants his middle fortune bite : 
 
 
 Or with staer or stone. 
 
 But sweet content exiles both misery and spite. 
 
 
 He would have petitions new, 
 And for desperate debts would sue 
 
 Instead of music and base flattering tongues. 
 Which wait to first salute my lord's uprise ; 
 
 
 Neddy had forgot : 
 He would grant : the other then 
 
 The cheerful lark wakes him with early songs. 
 
 
 And birds' sweet whistling notes unlock his eyes; 
 
 
 Tares from poor and aged men ; 
 
 In country plays is all the strife he uses, 
 
 
 Or in jails they rot. 
 
 Or song, or dance unto the rural Muses ; 
 
 
 Neddy lately rich in store, 
 
 And, but in music's sports, all difference refuses. 
 
 
 Giving much, deceived more, 
 
 
 
 On a sudden fell. 
 
 His certain life, that never can deceive him, 
 
 
 Then the steward lent him gold. 
 
 Is full of thousand sweets and rich content : 
 
 
 Yet no more than might be told 
 
 The smooth-leaved beeches in the field receive him 
 
 
 Worth his master's cell. 
 
 With coolest shades till noontide's rage is spent : 
 
 
 That is gone, and all beside 
 
 His life is neither tost in boisterous seas 
 
 
 (Well-a-day, alack the tide); 
 
 Or troublous world, nor lost in slothful ease ; 
 
 
 In a hollow den. 
 
 Pleased and full blessed he lives, when he his God 
 
 
 Underneath yond gloomy wood 
 
 can please. 
 
 
 Wons he now, and wails the brood 
 Of ungrateful men. 
 
 His bod of wool yields safe and quiet sleeps, 
 
 
 While by his side his faithful spouse hath place ; 
 
 
 PIEES. 
 
 His little son into his bosom creeps, 
 
 
 But, alas ! now he is old. 
 
 The lively picture of his father's face : 
 
 
 Bit with hunger, nipt with cold. 
 
 Never his humble house or state torment him ; 
 
 
 What is left him? 
 
 Less he could like, if loss his God had sent him ; 
 
 
 Or to succor, or relieve him. 
 
 And when he dies, green turfs with grassy tomb 
 
 
 Or from wants off to reprieve him. 
 
 content him. 
 
 
ilijcr's "^ncccc.' 
 
 Tho subject proposwl. Dedicatory mMrcss. Of pi 
 general fit for sheep ; for tine-wooUetl slicep } 
 wooHeil sheep. Defects of piisturcSf an ' 
 Of climates. The moisture of the Enj;! 
 
 cattHi. Particular beaut 
 
 of Enf;lish sheep -, ttic 
 
 scribeil. Different liimls of foreign sllecp. The several 
 
 th'ir r--iii.,ii,.^. ^!|. . p ! ,1 liy in-iincl to tlieir projwr 
 ru>..l aiui |.li>>M-. oi ih.; -iir].)irra\ ^LTip* and its funii- 
 tur-'. (';in- Mf sh''.'!. in ui|.]>iiiL'-tiiiH-. Of the castration 
 of l.iiiil's, ami tlif ri'I.iiiii; of slu.p. Various precepts 
 n-lative to ctians.'os of weather and seasons. Particular 
 car-; of new-l'alU-n lambs. The advantages and security 
 of tiK' Kii^-li^ti tihepherd, above those in hotter or colder 
 cliiiiat'-s, extiiiplifled with resi)ect to Lapland, Italy, 
 
 banks of the Severn. 
 
 SUBJECT— SBBBP; WBiVISO, TRAPS ; ADDnESS TO JiyMPBS, 
 SWilSS, AND SlKRClIASrS, lEUlSLATOBS, AND TUB K1.\0. 
 
 The ciiro of sheep, the labors of tho loom, 
 And arts of trade,' I sing. Ye rural nymphs ! 
 Ye swains, and princely merchants ! aid the verse. 
 And ye, high-trusted guardians of our isle. 
 Whom public voice approves, or lot of birth 
 To the great charge assigns ! ye good of all 
 Degrees, all sects ! bo present to my song. 
 So may distress, and wretchedness, and want, 
 Tho wide felicities of labor learn : 
 So may the proud attempts of restless Oaul 
 From our strong borders, like a broken wave. 
 In empty foam retire. But chiefly thou. 
 The people's shepherd, eminently placed 
 Over tho numerous swains of every vale, 
 "Witli well-permitted power and watchful eye 
 On each gay field to shed beneficence. 
 Celestial olHce ! thou protect tho song. 
 
 TDB BEST PASTCBES DESCRIBED ; AIRT DOWNS AND GBNTLB 
 HILLS *, ARID, SANDV, CUALKV, FLINTY, ETC. 
 
 On spacious airy downs and gentle hills, 
 With grass and thyme o'crspread, and clover wild, 
 Where ."irailing Phcobus tempers every breeze. 
 The fairest flocks rejoice : they, nor of halt. 
 Hydropic tumors, nor of rot, complain. 
 Evils deformed and foul ; nor with hoarso cough 
 Disturb tho music of tho pastoral pipe ; 
 But, crowding to the note, with silence soft 
 The close-woven carpet graze, where Nature blends 
 Flowerets and herbage of minutest size, 
 Iiinii.vious luxury. Wide airy downs 
 Are Health's gay walks to shepherd and to sheep. 
 
 All arid soils, with sand or chalky flint. 
 Or shells diluvian mingled, and the turf 
 
 1 See note at the end of Book in., p. S09. 
 
 That mantles over rocks of brittle stono. 
 
 Be thy regard ; and where low-tufted broom. 
 
 Or box, or berried juniper arise ; 
 
 Or the tall growth of glossy-rinded beech ; 
 
 And where the burrowing rabbit turns the dust ; 
 
 And whore the dappled deer delights to bound. 
 
 Such are the downs of Banstead, edged with woods 
 And towory Tillas ; such Dorcestrian fields. 
 Whose flocks innumerous whiten all tlie land : 
 Such those slow-climbing wilds that lead the step 
 Insensibly to Dover's windy ells', 
 Tremendous height ! and such the clovercd lawns 
 And sunny mounts of beauteous Normnnton,' 
 Health's cheerful haunt, and tho selected walk 
 Of Heathcote's leisure : such the spacious plain 
 Of Sarum,' spread like Ocean's boundless round. 
 Where solitary Stonehenge, gray with mnss. 
 Ruin of ages ! nods : such, too, tho leas 
 And ruddy tilth which spiry Ross beholds. 
 From a green hillock, o'er her lofty elms ; 
 And Lemster's' brooky tract, and airy Croft ;* 
 And such Hnrleian Eywood's' swelling turf. 
 Waved as the billows of a rolling sea ; 
 And Shobden,^ for its lofty terrace famed. 
 Which from a mountain's ridge, elate o'er woods. 
 And girt with all .-^iluria,' sees around 
 Regions on rv^fn- lil irlr.l ,i, tlie clouds. 
 
 >(nF. 
 
 Pic 
 
 Hills, rivers, woods, and lawns, and purple groves 
 
 Pomaccous, mingled with the curling growth 
 
 Of tendril hops, that flaunt upon their jH)le3, | 
 
 More airy wild than vines along the sides 
 
 Of treacherous Falernum," or that hill 
 
 Vesuvius, where tho bowers of Bacchus rose. 
 
 And Herculancan and Pompcian domes. 
 
 B^T LANDS FOR LONG-WOOL SHEEP DESCRIBFJ). 
 
 But if thy prudent care would cultivate 
 Leicestrian fleeces, what the sinewy arm 
 Combs through the spiky steel in lengthened flakes; 
 
 ■ Croft, a seat of Sir-Archer Croft. 
 
 a Ey wood, a seat of the Earl of Oxford. 
 
 4 Shobden, a seat of Lonl Bateman. 
 
 > Siluria, the part of l^ngland which lies west of the 
 Severn, namely, Herefordshire, Monmouthshire, etc. 
 
 << Treacherous Falernum -, because part of the hills of 
 Faleriium wjis many yeiirs ago overturned by an eruption 
 of Are, and is now a high ' ' - - . . 
 
1 
 
 KTJRAL POETRY. 
 
 Rich saponaceous loam, that slowly drinks 
 
 The blackening shower, and fattens with the draught, 
 
 Or marl with clay deep-mixed, be then thy choice, 
 
 Of one consistence, one complexion, spread • 
 
 Through all thy glebe ; where no deceitful veins 
 
 Of envious gravel lurk beneath the turf. 
 
 To loose the creeping waters from their springs, 
 
 Tainting the pasturage : and let thy fields 
 
 In slopes descend and mount, that chilling rains 
 
 May trickle off, and hasten to the brooks. 
 
 Yet some defect in all on earth appears ; 
 All seek for help, all press for social aid. 
 Too cold the grassy mantle of the marl. 
 In stormy winter's long and dreary nights, 
 For cumbent sheep ; from broken slumber oft 
 They' rise benumbed, and vainly shift the couch ; 
 Their wasted sides their evil plight declare : 
 Hence, tender in his care, the shepherd swain 
 Seeks each contrivance. Here it would avail 
 At a meet distance from the upland ridge 
 To sink a trench, and on the hedge-long bank 
 Sow frequent sand, with lime, and dark manure, 
 Which to the liquid element will yield 
 A porous way, a passage to the foe. 
 Plough not such pastures ; deep in spongy grass 
 The oldest carpet is the warmest lair. 
 And soundest : in new herbage coughs are heard. 
 
 Nor love too frequent shelter ; such as decks 
 The vale of.Severn, Nature's garden wide. 
 By the blue steeps of distant Malvern ' walled. 
 Solemnly vast. The trees of various shade. 
 Scene behind scene, with fair delusive pomp 
 Enrich the prospect, but they rob the lawns. 
 Nor prickly brambles, white with woolly theft. 
 Should tuft thy fields. Applaud not the remiss 
 Dimetians,^ who along their mossy dales 
 Consume, like grasshoppers, the summer hour, 
 ■\Vhile round them stubborn thorns and furze increase. 
 And creeping briers. 
 
 I knew a careful swain 
 Who gave them to the crackling flames, and spread 
 Their dust saline upon the deepening grass ; 
 And oft with labor-strengthened arm he delved 
 The draining trench across his verdant slopes. 
 To intercept the small, meandering rills 
 Of upper hamlets. Haughty trees, that sour 
 The shaded grass, that weaken thorn-set mounds, 
 And harbor villain crows, he rare allowed j 
 Only a slender tuft of useful ash. 
 And mingled beech and elm, securely tall. 
 The little, smiling cottage warm embowered ; 
 
 The little, smiling cottage ! where at eve 
 He meets his .rosy children at the door. 
 Prattling their welcomes, and his honest wife. 
 With good brown cake and bacon slice, intent 
 To cheer his hungfer after labor hard. 
 
 NORTHERS SLOPES. — NORWAY. 
 
 Nor only soil ; there also must he found 
 Felicity of clime and aspect bland. 
 Where gentle sheep may nourish locks of price. 
 In vain the silken fleece on windy brows. 
 And northern slopes ..f .l.iua-.lix iain^' hills. 
 Is sought, though suit llnjiin -imal- iiin- lap 
 Beneath their rugged Urt. ;mi.| unTiH - their heights 
 
 And dark Norwegian, with their choicest fields, 
 
 Dingles and dells by lofty fir embowered, 
 
 In vain the bleaters court. Alike they shun 
 
 Libya's hot plains. What taste have they for groves 
 
 Of palm, or yellow dust of gold ! no more 
 
 Food to the flock than to the miser wealth. 
 
 Who kneels upon the glittering heap and starves. 
 
 Even Gallic Abbeville the shining fleece. 
 
 That richly decorates her loom, acquires 
 
 Basely from Albion, by the ensnaring bribe. 
 
 The bait of avarice, which with felon fraud, 
 
 For its own wanton mouth, from thousands steals. 
 
 How erring oft the judgment in its hate 
 Or fond desire ! Those slow-descending showers. 
 Those hovering fogs, that bathe our growing vales 
 In deep November (loathed by trifling Gaul, 
 Effeminate), are gifts the Pleiads shed, 
 Britannia's handmaids : as the beverage falls 
 Her hills rejoice, her valleys laugh and sing. 
 
 Hail, noble Albion ! where no golden mines, 
 No soft perfumes, nor oils, nor myrtle bowers, 
 The vigorous frame and lofty heart of man 
 Enervate : round whose stern, cerulean brows 
 White-winged snow, and cloud, and pearly rain, 
 Frequent attend, with solemn majesty : 
 Rich queen of mists and vapors ! these thy sons 
 With their cool arms compress, and twist their nerves 
 For deeds of excellenco and high renown. [Blakes, 
 Thus formed our Edwards, Henrys, Churchills, 
 Our Lockes, our Newtons, and our Miltons, rose. 
 
 ENGLISH 
 
 SCENERY i HORSES, CiTTLE, SHEEP. 
 
 See, the sun gleams ; the living pastures rise, 
 After the nurture of the fallen shower, 
 How beautiful ! how blue the ethereal vault ! 
 How verdurous the lawns ! how clear the brooks ! 
 Such noble warlike steeds, such herds of kine, 
 So sleek, so vast, such spacious flocks of sheep. 
 Like flakes of gold illumining the green. 
 What other paradise adorn but thine, 
 Britannia ! happy, if thy sons would know 
 Their happiness. 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 491 
 
 KSi;i.isn siiirriNO ; goods ; wkaltut poim* -, Loauun. 
 To thoso thy naval streams, 
 Thy frequent towns superb of busy trade, 
 And ports magnifio, odd, and stately ships 
 Innumerous. But whither strays my Moso ? 
 Pleaded, liko a traveller upon the strand 
 Arrived of bright Augusta, wild he roves, [masts ; 
 From declc to decl<, through groves iminenso of 
 'Mong crowds, bales, oars, the wealth of either Ind; 
 Through wharfs, and squares, and palaces, and 
 In sweet surprise j unable yet to fix [domes, 
 
 His raptured mind, or scan in ordered course 
 Each object singly : with discoveries new 
 His native country studious to enrich. 
 
 LOCiLlTIKS PKCl'LUB TO VAIUOCS BBEED3 OF SBBBP ; TOE 
 r.OAT-nOBSKD OF DKRUVSUIBR ASD WELSH MOUNTll.SS, 
 DESCHIBKD. — SIH'BIAN SllKEP. 
 
 Ye shepherds ! if your labors hope success. 
 Be first your purpose to procure a breed 
 To soil and clime adapted. Every soil 
 And clime, oven every tree and herb, receives 
 Its habitant peculiar : each to each 
 The great Invisible, and each to all, 
 Through earth, and sea, and air, harmonious suits. 
 Tempestuous regions, Darwent's nalted peaks,' 
 Snowden and blue Plynlimraon, and the wide 
 Aerial sides of Cader-yddris huge ; « 
 These are bestowed on goat-horned sheep, of fleece 
 Hairy and coarse, of long and nimble shank. 
 Who rove o'er bog or heath, and graze or browse 
 Alternate, to collect with due despatch. 
 O'er the bleak wild, the thinly-scattered meal ; 
 But hills of milder air, that gently rise 
 O'er dewy dales, a fairer species boast. 
 Of shorter limb, and frontlet more ornate : 
 Such the Silurian. 
 
 SI LURE AN SB 
 
 If thy farm extends 
 Near Cotswold Downs, or the delicious groves 
 Of Symmonds, honored through the sandy soil 
 Of elmy Ross,^ or Devon's myrtle vales, 
 That drink clear rivers near the glassy seo, 
 Regard this sort, and hence thy sire of lambs 
 Select ; his tawny fleece in ringlets curls : 
 Long swings his slender tail ; his front is fenced 
 With horns Ammonian, circulating twice 
 Around each open ear, like those fair scrolls 
 That grace the columns of the lonio dome. 
 
 Yet should thy fertile glebe bo marly clay, 
 Like Melton pastures, or Tripontian fields, •• 
 Where ever-gliding Avon's limpid wave 
 Thwarts tlic long course of dusty Watling-strcct ; 
 That larger sort, of head defenceless, seek, 
 Wliose fleece is deep and clammy, close nnd plnin : 
 
 1 Darwent's nakwl peaks i the peaks of Dcrbysliin-. 
 
 ■ Snowilen, I'lynlimmon, and Cader-yddris ; liitjh hills in 
 North Waits. 
 
 a Uoss, a town of Ucrcfordshire. 
 
 « Tripontian fields ; the country between Rugby, la War- 
 wickshire, and Lutterworth, ' 
 
 The ram, short-limbed, whose form compact describes 
 One level lino along his spacious back ; 
 Of full and ruddy eye, large ears, stretched head, 
 Nostrils dilated, breast and shoulders broad. 
 And spacious haunches, and a lofty dock. 
 
 Thus to their kindred soil and air induced, 
 Thy thriving herd will bless thy skilful care, 
 That copies nature, who, in every change, 
 In each variety, with wisdom works 
 And powers diversified of air and soil, 
 Her rich matoriols. Hence Sabaja's rocks, 
 Chaldiea's nmrl, Egyptus' watered loam. 
 And dry Tyrcno's ?nnd, in climes alike, 
 ■\v;i- ,ii 1'. I, 1,1 t ,:. Ill ilv the marts of trade : 
 
 -,,,,;! , , , i:, ,:,:,, I , :iiid harsh their fleece; 
 
 From Suit sou-l>rfi'«'s, "pi'" winters mild. 
 And summers bathed in dew : on Syrian sheep 
 The costly burden only loads their tails : 
 Xo locks Cormandol's, none Malacca's tribo 
 Adorn ; but sleek of flix, and brown like deer. 
 Fearful and shcpherdlcss, they bound along 
 The sands. No fleeces wave in torrid climes. 
 Which verdure boast of trees and shrubs alone. 
 Shrubs aromatic, caufco wild, or thea, 
 Nutmeg, or cinnamon, or fiery clove, 
 Unapt to feed the fleece. Tho food of wool 
 Is grass or herbage soft, that ever blooms 
 In temperate air, in the delicious downs 
 Of Albion, on the banks of all her streams. 
 
 GRASSES i KfFECTS Of TOO SOCCOLEST FOOD ; ROT AND ITS 
 REMEDIES ; IMPORTANCE OF SALT TO stlKEP. 
 
 Of grasses are unnumbered kinds, and all 
 (Save where foul waters linger on tho turf) 
 Salubrious. Early mark when tepid gleams 
 Oft mingle with the pearls <if summer showers, 
 And swell too hastily the tender plains ; 
 Then snatch away thy sheep : beware tho rot, 
 And with detersive bay-salt rub their mouths, 
 Or urge them on a barren bank to feed, 
 In hunger's kind distress, on tedded hay ; 
 Or to tho marish guide their easy steps. 
 If near thy tufted crofts tho broad sea spreads. 
 Sagacious care foreacts. When strong disease 
 Breaks in, and stains the purple streams of health, 
 Hard is tho strife of art. 
 
 SUEEP-COIOU i ITS STMPTOMS AXD HEMF.DT. 
 
 The coughing pest 
 From their green pasture sweeps whole flocks away. 
 That dire distemper sometimes may the swain, 
 Though late, di.scern ; when on the lifted lid, 
 Or visual orb, the turgid veins are pale. 
 The swelling liver then her putrid store 
 Begins to drink : ov'n yet thy skill exert, 
 Nor suffer weak despair to fold thy arms : 
 Again detersive solt apply, or shed 
 The hoary med'oino o'er their arid food. 
 
KURAL POETRY. DYER. 
 
 In cold stiff soils the bleaters oft complain 
 Of gouty ails, by shepherds termed the halt : 
 Those let the neighboring fold or ready crook 
 Detain, and pour into their cloven feet 
 Corrosive drugs, deep-searching arsenic, 
 Dry alum, verdigris, or vitriol keen ; 
 But if the doubtful mischief scarce appears, 
 'T will serve to shift them to a dryer turf, 
 And salt again. The utility of salt 
 Teach thy slow swains redundant humors cold 
 Are the diseases of the bleating kind 
 
 J, fro: 
 
 i-tremes 
 
 DispLi i\(_ t N iwt^iin tar, renowned 
 By Mituous Beikcley, whose beneiolence 
 Explored its poweis, and easy mcd cine thence 
 Sought for the poor, 'ie p r i ' mth grateful voice 
 Invoke eternal blessings on his head. 
 
 Sheep, also, pleurisies and dropsies know, 
 Driven oft from Nature's path by artful man, 
 Who blindly turns aside, with haughty hand, 
 Whom sacrea instinct would securely lead. 
 But thou, more humble swain ! thy rural gates 
 Frequent unbar, and let thy flocks abroad 
 From lea to croft, from mead to arid field, 
 Noting the fickle seasons of the sky. 
 Rain-sated pastures let them shun, and seek 
 Changes of herbage and salubrious flowers. 
 By their all-perfect Master inly taught, 
 They best their food and physic can discern ; 
 For He, Supreme Existence ! ever near, 
 Informs them. O'er the vivid green observe 
 With what a regular consent they crop. 
 At every fourth collection to the mouth, 
 Unsavory crow-flower : whether to awake 
 Languor of appetite willi \\vv\v rluinge. 
 Or timely to rei>en,|-|M„arlH„L; .lis, 
 Hard to determine. Thnu, \\[,uui Xature loves. 
 And with her salutary rules intrusts. 
 Benevolent Mackenzie ! ^ say the cause. 
 This truth, howe'er, shines bright to human sense ; 
 Each strong affection of the unconscious brute. 
 Each bent, each passion of the smallest mite. 
 Is wisely given : harmonious they perform 
 The work of perfect reason (blush, vain man !) 
 And turn the wheels of Nature's vast machine. 
 
 See that thy scrip have store of healing tar, 
 And marking pitch and'ruddle ; nor forget 
 Thy shears true pointed, nor the oflScious dog. 
 Faithful to teach thy stragglers to return ; 
 So may'st thou aid who lag along, or steal 
 Aside into the furrows or the shades, 
 
 ^ Dr. Mackenzie, of Druniseugh, near Edinburgh. 
 
 Silent to droop ; or who, at every gate 
 
 Or hillock, rub their sores and loosened wool. 
 
 But rather these, the feeble of thy flock. 
 
 Banish before the autumnal months. Ev'n age 
 
 Forbear too much to favor : oft renew. 
 
 And through thy fold let joyous youth appear. 
 
 FIGHTS OF THE MALE SHEEP J THE BATTEBJ.VG-EiM 
 
 Beware the season of imperial love, 
 Who through the world his ardent spirit pours ; 
 Ev'n sheep arc then intrepid ! the proud ram 
 With jealous eye surveys the spacious field : 
 All rivals keep aloof, or desperate war 
 Suddenly rages ; with impetuous force. 
 And fury irresistible, they dash 
 Their hardy frontlets : the wide vale resounds : 
 The flock, amazed, stands safe afar : and oft 
 Each to the other's might a victim falls ; 
 As fell of old, before that engine's sway. 
 Which hence ambition imitative wrought, 
 The beauteous towers of Salem to the dust. 
 
 TREATMENT OF MALE LAMBKINS ; MAY-FEEDING ; TIME OF 
 
 Wise custom at the fifth or sixth return. 
 Or ere they 've past the twelfth of orient morn. 
 Castrates the lambkins : necessary rite. 
 Ere they be numbered uf the piiierliil lieid. 
 But kindly watch wIihju ihy -Ikm p hmel has grieved, 
 In those rough months that lilt the tm ning year : 
 Not tedious is the office ; tu thy iiij 
 Favonius hastens ; soon their wounds he heals, 
 And leads them skipping to the flowers of May ; 
 May ! who allows to fold, if poor the tilth. 
 Like that of dreary houseless common fields. 
 Worn by the plough ; but fold on fallows'dry. 
 Enfeeble not thy fiock to feed thy land, 
 Nor in too narrow bounds the prisoners crowd ! 
 Nor ope the wattled fence while balmy morn 
 Lies on the reeking pasture ; wait till all 
 The crystal dews, impearled upon the grass, 
 Arc touched by Pha-bus' beams, and mount aloft. 
 With various clouds to paint the azure sky. 
 
 CARE OF SHEEP IN FLT-TIME. 
 
 In teasing fly-time, dank, or frosty days. 
 With unctuous liquids, or the lees of oil. 
 Rub their soft skins between the parted locks : 
 Thus the Brigantes ; ' 't is not idle pains : 
 Nor is that skill despised which trims their tails, 
 Ere summer-heats, of filth and tagged wool. 
 Coolness and cleanliness to health conduce. 
 
 WORK FOR LEISURE HOURS. 
 
 To mend thy mounds, to trench, to clear, to soil 
 Thy grateful fields, to medicate thy sheep. 
 Hurdles to weave, and cheerly shelters raise, 
 Thy vacant hours require ; and ever learn 
 Quick ether's motions : oft the scene is turned ; 
 Now the blue vault, and now the murky cloud, 
 Hail, rain, or radiance : these the moon will tell, 
 Each bird and beast, and these thy fleecy tribe. 
 1 The Briganles, inhabitants of Yorkshire. 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 493 
 
 WKATHER 810X3 i HOW TO SHIFT TRB 8IIILTIR Of SdKP. 
 
 When high tho sapphire oopo, supino thoy couoh, 
 And chew the cud delighted ; but, ere min, 
 Eager, and at unwonted hour, they feed. 
 Slight nut the warning ; soon tho tempest rolls. 
 Scattering them wide, close rushing at the heels 
 Of the hurrying, overtuken swains : forbear 
 Such nights to fold ; such nights bo theirs to shift 
 On ridge or hillock ; or in homesteads soft, 
 Or softer cots, detain them. Is thy lot 
 A chill penurious turf, to all thy toils 
 Untraotablc? Before harsh Winter drowns 
 Tho noisy dykes, and starves the rushy glebe, 
 Shift the frail breed to sandy hamlets warm ; 
 Thoro let them sojourn, till gay Progno ' skims 
 The thickening verdure and the rising flowers. 
 
 WnE.y SOBEP ARK TO BK BOCSED ; SSOW ; SHEEP LOST IN 
 
 And while departing Autumn all embrowns 
 The frequent-bitten fields, while thy free hand 
 Divides the tedded hay, then be their feet 
 Accustomed to the barriers of tho rick, 
 Or some warm umbrage ; lest, in erring fright, 
 When the broad dazzling snows descend, thoy run 
 Dispersed to ditches, where the swelling drift 
 Wide overwhelms : anxious, the sheplierd swains 
 Issue with axe and spado, and, all abroad. 
 In doubtful aim explore the glaring waste. 
 And some, perchance, in the deep delve upraise, 
 Drooping, even at the twelfth cold, dreary day, 
 With still continued feeble pulse of life, — 
 The glebe their fleece, their flesh by hunger gnawed. 
 
 Ah, gentle shepherd ! thine the lot to tend. 
 Of all that feel distress, tho most assailed. 
 Feeble, defenceless ; lenient be thy care ; 
 But spread around thy tenderest diligence 
 In flowery spring-time, when the now-dropped lamb, 
 Tottering with weakness by his mother's side. 
 Feels the fresh world about him, and each thorn. 
 Hillock, or furrow, trips his feeble feet : 
 ! guard his meek, sweet innocence from all 
 The innumerous ills that rush around his life ; 
 Jlark the quick kite, with beak and talons prone, 
 Circling tlie skies to snatch him from the plain ; 
 Observv tho lurking crows ; beware the brake. 
 There the sly fox tho careless minute waits ; 
 Nor trust thy neighbor's dog, nor earth, nor sky : 
 Thy bosom to a thousand cares divide. 
 Burns oft slings his hail ; tho tardy fields 
 Pay not their promised food ; and oft tho dam 
 O'er her weak twins with empty udder mourns. 
 Or fails to guard when the bold bird of prey 
 Alights, and hops in many turns around, 
 And tires her, also turning. 
 
 TUB COSSET } RADITUATB CnlLDREN TO KIND OFFICBS. — 
 P8R3BV8KIX0 CARE. — .NICBIS. 
 
 To her aid 
 Be nimble, and the weakest in thine arms 
 
 Gently convoy to tho warm cot, and oft, 
 Between tho lark's note and tho nightingale's, 
 Ilis hungry bleating still with tepid milk : 
 In this soft office ma_y thy children join, 
 And ehnriluble habits loam in sport : 
 Nor yield him to himself ere vernal airs 
 Sprinkle thy little croft with daisy flowers,: 
 Nor yet forget him ; life has rising ilia : 
 Various as ether is the pastoral care : 
 Through slow experience, by a patient breast, 
 The whole long lesson gradual is attained, 
 By precept after precept, oft received 
 With deep attention ; such as Xuccus sings 
 To tho full vale near Soar's' enamored brook, 
 While all is silence : sweet Uinclean swain ! 
 Whom rudo obscurity severely clasps : 
 Tho Muse, howo'or, will deck thy simple cell 
 With purple violets and primrose flowers. 
 Well-pleased thy faithful lessons to repay. 
 
 ALL EXTREMES ASD EXCESS HTBTrCL TO SDHEP. — CJ 
 
 Sheep no extremes can bear : both heat and cold 
 Spread sores cutaneous ; but more frequent heat. 
 The fly-blown vermin from their woolly nest 
 Press to the tortured skin, and flesh, and bone. 
 In littleness iui.l iiuinl'.r .Ir.'^i.lful foes ! 
 Long rain- !ti : hil- the halt ; 
 
 Rainy luxm \ ur flock ; 
 
 And all c\.. us food. 
 
 Ass 
 
 ! dc.l 
 
 Olf. 
 
 Inferior theirs to man's world-roving frame, 
 W'hich all extremes in every zone endures. 
 
 I ; laplaxder's karb. 
 With grateful heart, ye British swains ! enjoy 
 Your gLiitle seasons and indulgent clime. 
 Lii ! in the sprinkling clouds your bleating hills 
 Rejoice with herbage, while the horrid rago 
 Of Winter irresistible o'erwhelras 
 The Ilyperborean tracts : his arrowy frosts. 
 That pierce through flinty rocks, the Lappian flics. 
 And burrows deep beneath tho snowy world ; 
 A drear abode ! from rose-diffusing hours, 
 That dance before the wheels of radiant day. 
 Far, far remote ; where, by tho squalid light 
 Of fetid oil inflamed, sea-monsters' spume. 
 Or fir-wood, glaring in tho weeping vault^ 
 Twice three slow, gloomy months with various ills 
 Sullen he struggles ; such the love of life ! 
 Ills lank and scanty herds around him press. 
 As, hunger-stung, to gritty meal ho grinds 
 The bones of fish, or inward bark of trees, 
 Their ( 
 
 While ye, s>Tain3 ! 
 Ye, happy at your ease, behold your sheep 
 Feed on tho open turf, or crowd the tilth. 
 Where, thick among tho greens, with busy mouths 
 They scoop white turnips : little care is yours ; 
 
 I Soar, a rivi 
 
494 
 
 EUEAL POETRY. 
 
 Only at morning hour to interpose 
 Dry food of oats, or hay, or brittle straw. 
 The watery juices of the bossy root 
 Absorbing ; or from noxious air to screen 
 Your heavy, teeming ewes, with wattled fence 
 Of furze or copse-wood, in the lofty field. 
 Which bleak ascends among the whistling winds : 
 Or, if your sheep are of Silurian breed. 
 Nightly to house them dry on fern or straw, 
 Silkening their fleeces. 
 
 mLD BEASTS, EARTHQUAKES, 
 
 Te nor rolling hut 
 Nor watchful dog require, where never roar 
 Of savage tears the air, where careless night 
 In balmy sleep lies lulled, and only wakes 
 To plenteous peace. Alas ! o'er warmer zones 
 Wild terror strides, their stubborn rocks are rent. 
 Their mountains sink, their yawning caverns flame. 
 And fiery torrents roll impetuous down. 
 Proud cities deluging ; Pompeian towers. 
 And Hcrculanean, and what riotous stood 
 In Syrian valley, where now the Dead Sea 
 'Mong solitary hills, infectious, lies. 
 
 FAMINE, PLAGUE, WAR, 
 
 See the swift Furies, famine, plague, and war, 
 In frequent thunders rage o'er neighboring realms. 
 And spread their plains with desolation wide ! 
 Yet your mild homesteads ever-blooming smile 
 Among embracing woods, and waft on high 
 The breath of plenty, from the ruddy tops 
 Of chimneys curling o'er the gloomy trees 
 In airy, azxure ringlets to the sky. 
 
 Nor ye by need are urged, as Attic swains, 
 And Tarentine, with skins to clothe your sheep. 
 Expensive toil, howe'er expedient found 
 In fervid climates, while from Phoebus' beams 
 They fled to rugged woods and tangling brakes. 
 But those expensive toils are now no more. 
 Proud Tyranny devours their flocks and herds : 
 Nor bleat of sheep may now, nor sound of pipe. 
 Soothe the sad plains of once sweet Arcady, 
 The shepherds' kingdom : dreary solitude 
 Spreads o'er Hymettus, and the shaggy vale 
 Of Athens, which in solemn silence sheds 
 Her venerable ruins to the dust. 
 
 The weary Arabs roam from plain to plain. 
 Guiding the languid herd in quest of food. 
 And shift their little home's uncertain scene 
 With frequent farewell ; strangers, pilgrims all. 
 As were their fathers. No sweet fall of rain 
 May there be heard ; nor sweeter liquid lapse 
 Of river, o'er the pebbles gliding by 
 In murmurs : goaded by the rage of thirst. 
 
 Daily they journey to the distant clefts 
 Of craggy rocks, where gloomy palms o'erhang 
 The ancient wells, deep sunk by toil immense. 
 Toil of the patriarchs, with sublime intent 
 Themselves and long posterity to serve. 
 
 WATERING THE 
 
 WELLS i JACOB . 
 
 There, at the public hour of sultry noon, 
 They share the beverage, when to watering come. 
 And grateful umbrage, all the tribes around. 
 And their lean flocks, whose various bleatings fill 
 The echoing caverns : then is absent none, 
 Fair nymph or shepherd, each inspiring each 
 To wit, and song, and dance, and active feats ; 
 In the same rustic scene, where Jacob won 
 Fair Rachel's bosom, when a rock's vast weight 
 From the deep, dark-mouthed -well his strength 
 
 removed. 
 And to her circling sheep refreshment gave. 
 
 Such are the perils, such the toils of life, 
 In foreign climes. But speed thy flight, my Muse! 
 Swift turns the year, and our unnumbered flocks 
 On fleeces overgrown uneasy lie. 
 
 Now, jolly swains ! the harvest of your cares 
 Prepare to reap, and seek the sounding caves 
 Of high Brigantium,' where, by ruddy flames, 
 Vulcan's strong sons, with nervous arm, around 
 The steady anvil and the glaring mass 
 Clatter their heavy hammers down by turns. 
 Flattening the steel : from their rough hands 
 
 receive 
 The sharpened instrument that from the flock 
 Severs the fleece. If verdant elder spreads 
 Her silver flowers ; if humble daisies yield 
 To yellow crow-foot, and luxuriant grass. 
 Gay shearing-time approaches. 
 
 First, howe'er, 
 ve to the double fold, upon the brim 
 I Of a clear river, gently drive the flock. 
 And plunge them one by one into the flood : 
 Plunged in the flood, not long the struggler sinks. 
 With his white flakes that glisten through the tide; 
 The sturdy rustic, in the middle wave. 
 Awaits to seize him rising ; one arm bears 
 His lifted head above the limpid stream, 
 While the full, clammy fleece the other laves 
 Around, laborious, with repeated toil ; 
 And then resigns him to the sunny bank. 
 Where, bleating loud, he shakes his dripping locks. 
 
 HOW TO SHEAR. —WOOSDS, TAR, SHOWERS; FRESHETS IS 
 
 Shear them the fourth or fifth return of morn. 
 Lest touch of busy fly-blows wound their skin. 
 
 1 Caves of Brigantium •, the forges of Sheffield, in York- 
 shire, where the shepherds' shears, and all edge-tools, are 
 
WINTER — FEBRUAKT. 
 
 Thy poacoful subjects without murmur yield 
 Thoir yearly tribute : 't is Uio prudent part 
 To cherish and bo gentle, while ye strip 
 The downy vesture from thoir tender sides. 
 Press not too close ; with caution turn the points, 
 And from the head in regular rounds proceed ; 
 But speedy, when yo chance to wound, with' tar 
 Prevent the wingy swarm and scorching heat ; 
 And careful house them, if the lowering clouds 
 Jlingle their stores tumultuous : through the 
 
 gloom 
 Then thunder ofl with ponderous wheels rolls loud, 
 And breaks the crystal urns of heaven, adown 
 Falls streaming rain. Sometimes among the steeps 
 Of Cambrian glades (pity the Cambrian glades !) 
 Fast tumbling brooks on brooks enormous swell, 
 And sudden overwhelm their vanished fields : 
 Down with the flood away the naked sheep. 
 Bleating in vain, are borne, and straw-built huts. 
 And rifted trees, and heavy, enormous rocks, 
 Down with the rapid torrent to the deep. 
 
 FESTIVmEl iT 
 
 vales 
 
 At shearing-tiiii. .il lu i 
 
 Rural festivities .n i ' i : 
 
 Beneath each l>l"i - i i .i"y 
 
 And lusty merrimLi.;. \* LU-. i. Uio grass 
 The mingled youth iu gaudy circles sport, 
 We thinji the Golden Age again returned. 
 And all the fabled dryades in dance : 
 Leering they bound along, with laughing air. 
 To the shrill pipe, and deep-remurmuring chords 
 Of the ancient harp, or tabor's hollow sound. 
 
 PASTOIUL SCENES j 
 
 PilUSON. 
 
 While the old apart, upon a bank reclined. 
 Attend the tuneful carol, softly mixed 
 With every murmur of the sliding wave, 
 And every warble of the feathered choir, 
 iMusic of Paradise ; which still is heard 
 When the heart listens, still the views appear 
 Of the first happy garden, when content 
 To Nature's flowery scenes directs the sight. 
 Yet we abandon those Elysian walks, 
 Then idly for the lost delight repine ; 
 As greedy mariners, whoso desperate sails 
 Skim o'er the billows of the foamy flood, 
 Fancy they see the lessening shores retire. 
 And sigh a farewell to the sinking hills. 
 
 A PiSTOnil, ECLOGUE. — DAMON ASD COLIS. 
 
 Could I recall those notes which once tho Muso 
 Heard at a shearing, near the woody sides 
 Of blue-topped Wreakin ! ' Yet the carols sweet 
 Through the deep maze of the memorial cell 
 Faintly remunnur. First arose in song 
 Hoar-headed Damon, venerable swain ! 
 The aoolhest shepherd of the flowery vale. 
 
 1 Wreakin, a high 1 
 
 'This is no vulgar soono ; no palace-roof 
 Was o'er so lofty, or so nobly rise 
 Their polished pillars as these aged oaks. 
 Which, o'er our fleecy wealth and harmless sport--". 
 Thus have expanded wide thoir sheltering arms 
 Thrice told an hundred summers. Sweet content, 
 Yo gentle shepherds ! pillow us at night' 
 
 ' Yes, tuneful Damon, for our cares are short. 
 Rising and falling with the cheerful day,' 
 Colin replied ; ' and pleasing weariness 
 Soon our unaching heads to sleep inelincg. 
 Is it in cities so ? where, poets tell, 
 Tho cries of sorrow sadden all tho streets. 
 And the diseases of intemperate wealth. 
 Alas ! that any ills from wealth should rise !' 
 
 DAMON. — RCRAL PEACE. 
 
 ■ May the sweet nightingale on yonder spray, 
 May this clear stream, these lawns, those snow- 
 white lambs, 
 A\Tiioh with a pretty innocence of look 
 Skip on the green, and race in little troops ; 
 May that great lamp which sinks behind the hills. 
 And streams around variety of lights. 
 Recall them erring ! this is Damon's wish.' 
 
 COLIN. — COCSTRY ASD CrTT LIFE CONTRASTED ; IBE VIEW 
 
 ' Huge Breaden's * stony summit once I climbed 
 After a kidling : Damon, what a scene ! 
 What various views unnumbered spread beneath ! 
 Woods, towers, vales, caves, dells, clifis, and torrent 
 
 floods ; 
 And here iiii'I t'l' n . liiMm tlie spiry rocks, 
 Tho broad II ii i I I i prospects these. 
 
 Than gard n : . if in dusty towns. 
 
 Where stoii.li\ i.iih,, - .tr. :, M,,t the sun : 
 Y'el, flying from his 4uii;t, thither crowds 
 Each greedy wretch for tivrdy-rising wealth. 
 Which comes too late, that courts the tasto in 
 
 Or nauseates with distempers. Y'es, yo rich ! 
 Still, still be rich, if thus ye fashion life ; 
 And piping, careless, silly shepherds wo, 
 AVc silly shepherds, all intent to feed 
 Our snowy flocks, and wind the sleeky fleece.' 
 
 DAMON. — HONORS OP TDE 
 
 • Deem not, howe'er, our occupatii 
 Damon replied, 'while tho Supreme 
 Well of tho faithful shepherd, ranked alike 
 With king and priest ; they also shepherds 
 For so the All-seeing styles them, to 
 Elated man, forgetful of his charge.' 
 
 ind 
 
 1 the borders of MontgomerTshire. 
 
RURAL POETRY. DYER. 
 
 OOUN. — THE FLOWER-FESTIVAL OF TALES AT SHEARISG- 
 TIME. — SABRINA, OR THE SEVERN PERSONIFIED J THE FIVE 
 STREAMS OF PLYNLYMMON. 
 
 ' But haste, begin the rites : see purple eve 
 Stretches her shadows : all yo nymphs and swains ! 
 Hither assemble. Pleased with honors due, 
 Sabrina, guardian of the crystal flood. 
 Shall bless our cares, when she by moonlight clear 
 Skims o'er the dales, and eyes our sleeping folds ! 
 Or in hoar caves, around Plynlymraon's brow, 
 Where precious minerals dart their purple gleams. 
 Among her sisters she reclines ; the loved 
 Vaga, profuse of graces, Ryddol rough, 
 Blithe Ystwith, and Clevedoo,' swift of foot ; 
 And mingles various seeds of flowers and herbs. 
 In the divided torrents, ere they burst [roll. 
 
 Through the dark clouds, and down the mountain 
 Nor taint-worm shall infect the yeaning herds. 
 Nor penny-grass, nor spearwort's poisonous leaf.' 
 
 He said : with light fantastic toe the nymphs 
 Thither assembled, thither every swain ; 
 And o'er the dimpled stream a thousand flowers, 
 Pale lilies, roses, violets, and pinks, 
 Mixed with the greens of burnet, mint, and thyme. 
 And trefoil, sprinkled with their sportive arms. 
 
 Such custom holds along the irriguous vales 
 From Wreakin's brow to rocky Dolvoryn,^ 
 Sabrina's early haunt, ere yet she fled 
 The search of Guendolen,^ her stepdame proud, 
 With envious hate enraged. 
 
 FEAST OF SHEEP-SHEARING \ Vm AND JOLLITY 5 THE REPAST 
 DESCRIBED. — THE SEVERS AND ITS TBiDlSG CRAFT. 
 
 The jolly cheer. 
 Spread on a mossy bank, untouched abides, 
 Till cease the rites : and now the mossy bank 
 Is gayly circled, and the jolly cheer 
 Dispersed in copious measure : early fruits, 
 And those of frugal store, in husk or rind ; 
 Steeped grain, and curdled milk with dulcet cream 
 Soft tempered, in full merriment they quaff. 
 And cast about their gibes : and some apace 
 Whistle to roundelays : their little ones 
 Look on delighted ; while the mountain woods 
 And winding valleys with the various notes 
 Of pipe, sheep, kiue, and birds, and liquid brooks, 
 Unite their echoes : near at hand the wide 
 Majestic wave of Severn slowly rolls 
 Along the deep-divided glebe : the flood 
 And trading bark, with low-contracted sail, 
 Lipger among the reeds and copsy banks 
 To listen, and to view the joyous scene. 
 I Va-:!- i:\.i.i I, \ "Mil Li,.i M' > i-r rivers', the springs 
 
 ofwln^l, • '' ■ „,. 
 
 -llul\ I ^1 i-nmeryshire, onthe 
 
 BTIir h ' ;,■ ' I h I ,,• fsnil of Brute, and 
 
 e: 
 
 and directions 
 
 Now of the severed lock begin the song 
 With various numbers, through the simple theme 
 
 This is a lull. .r. 
 
 \rt. (1 Wniy !■ if thou 
 
 Cease not with - 
 
 ,iliul lian.l to point her way. 
 
 The lark-winye. 
 
 MuiL- abuvu the grassy vale, 
 
 And hills, and w 
 
 oods, shall, singing, soar aloft 
 
 And he whom le 
 
 arning, wisdom, candor, grace, 
 
 Who glows with all the virtue 
 Royston ! ^ approve, and patn 
 
 Through all the brute creation none as sheep 
 To lordly man such ample tribute pay. 
 For him their udders yield nectareous streams ; 
 For him their downy vestures they resign ; 
 For him they spread the feast : ah ! ne'er may he 
 Glory in wants which doom to pain and death 
 His blameless fellow-creatures. Let disease, 
 Let wasted hunger, by destroying live. 
 And the permission use with trembling thanks. 
 Meekly reluctant : 't is the brute beyond ; 
 And gluttons ever murder when they kill. 
 Even to the reptile every cruel deed 
 Is high impiety. Howe'er not all. 
 Not of the sanguinary tribe are all ; 
 All are not savage. Come, ye gentle swains ! 
 Like Brama's healthy sons on Indus' banks. 
 Whom the pure stream and garden fruits sustain ; 
 Ye are the sons of Nature ; your mild hands 
 Are innocent : ye, when ye shear, relieve. 
 
 THE FLEECE ; PICKING AND SORTING IT. 
 
 Come, gentle swains! the bright unsullied locks 
 Collect ; alternate songs shall soothe your cares. 
 And warbling music break from every spray. 
 
 1 David Wray, Esq., one of the Deputy Tellers of the Ex- 
 chequer, who procured Dyer the living of Belchfond, in 1751. 
 5i Viscount Iloystun, afterward Earl of Hardwicke. 
 
497 
 
 Bo faithful, and tho genuine looks alono i 
 
 Wrap round ; nor alien flake, nor pitch enfold ; 
 Stain not your stores with base desire to luld 
 Fallacious weight ; nor yet, to mimic those, 
 Minute and light, of sandy Urohinficld,' 
 Lessen, with subtle artifice, the fleece ; 
 Equal tho fraud ; nor interpose delay. 
 Lest busy ether through tho open wool 
 Debilitating pass, and every film 
 Ruffle and sully with tho valley's dust. 
 
 Tim Morn ; flock beds. 
 Guard, too, from moisture, and the fretting moth 
 Pernicious : she, in gloomy shade concealed. 
 Her labyrinth cuts, and mocks the comber's care : 
 But in loose looks of fells sho most delights, 
 And feeble fleeces of distempered sheep. 
 Whither she hastens, by the morbid scent 
 Allured, as tho swift eagle to the fields 
 Of slaughtering war or carnage : such apart 
 Keep for their proper use : our ancestors 
 Selected such for hospitable beds 
 To rest the stranger, or tho gory chief 
 From battle or tho chase of wolves returned. 
 
 They sovor look from look, and long, and short, 
 And soft, and rigid, pilo in sovoral heaps. 
 
 WOOLS POK VilUOfS riBKICS i 
 
 U»Ta, CLOTHS, 
 
 When many-colored evening sinks behind 
 Tho purple woods and hills, and opposite 
 Rises, full orbed, the silver harvest jnoon, 
 To light the unwearied farmer, late afield 
 His scattered sheaves collecting, then expect 
 The artists, bent on speed, from populous Leeds, 
 Norwich, or Froomo ; they traverse every plain 
 And every dale nhi I . imni . r ..u^ige smokes : 
 Reject them not ; jui i ; lii i i-iu's price 
 Win thy soft trc';i,-iin 1. i i:,' Imlky wain 
 Through dusty ru;ids u.ll ii.i.l.imy ; or the bark, 
 That silently adown the ccrulc stream 
 Glides with white sails, dispense the downy freight 
 To copsy villages on either si<le, 
 And spiry towns, where ready diligence, 
 The grateful burden to receive, awaits. 
 Like strong Briareus, with his hundred bands. 
 
 This tho dusk hattor asks ; another shines, 
 Tempting tho clothier ; that tho hosier seeks ; 
 Tho long bright look is ai)t for airy stuffs ; 
 But often it deceives the artist's oaro, 
 Breaking unuscful in the steely comb : 
 For this long spongy wool no more increase 
 Receives, while winter petrifies the fields : 
 The growth of Autumn stops ; and what though 
 Succeeds with rosy finger, and spins on [Spring 
 The texture ? yet in vain she strives to link 
 Tho silver twine to that of Autumn's hand. 
 
 now TO KEKP THB WOOL (5H0WIS0 THROCGO WISTKK ; IM- 
 
 PORTASCB or rr. 
 Be then the swain advised to shield his flocks 
 From winter's deadening frosts and whelming snows: 
 Let the loud tompest rattle on tho roof, 
 AVliilo they, secure within, warm iribs enjoy. 
 And swell their fleeces, equal to the worth 
 Of clothed Apulian,' by soft warmth improved ; 
 Or let them inward heat and vigor find 
 By food of cole or turnip, hardy plants. 
 Besides, the lock of one continued growth 
 Imbibes a clearer and more equal dye. 
 
 But lightest wool is thei 
 Through tt dull round, in i 
 Of common-fiiM.-. Enclos 
 
 Why Will.vnuj.-, ;n-:in, 
 Noxious tu w . : 
 
 To mark y ]''•'•'> 
 
 ; who poorly toil 
 improving farms 
 
 enclose, ye swains 
 M firUl, where pitch 
 
 , iir motley flock, 
 itiiirk dilates, 
 , .i, liled, 
 
 BELnuSS ; EMPLOVM 
 
 or THE POOR , 
 
 In tho same fleece diversity of wool 
 Grows intermingled, and excites tho earo • 
 Of curious skill to sort the several kinds. 
 But in this subtle science none exceed 
 The industrious Belgians, to the work who guide 
 Each feeble hand of want : their spacious domes, 
 With boundless hospitality, receive 
 Each nation's outcasts : there the tender eye 
 May view tho maimed, the blind, the lame, em- 
 ployed, 
 And unrejected ago : even childhood there 
 Its little fingers turning to the toil 
 Delighted : nimbly, with habitual speed, 
 
 1 Urcbinfield -, the country about Ross, in Ilcrerordshire. 
 
 Tniit liir In lun nil. iii.t. Besides, in fields 
 
 I'l 1- n u- li. 11. ill! culture languishes : 
 
 Tlie -Mir, r\li;ni^t.i|, thlu supply rcceivos J 
 Dull Kilters rest upon tho rushy flats 
 And barren furrows : none the rising grove 
 There plants for late posterity, nor hedge 
 To shield the flock, nor copse for cheering fire ; 
 And in the distant village every hearth 
 Devours the grassy sward, the verdant food 
 Of injured herds and flocks, or what tlie plough 
 Should turn and moulder for the bearded grain : 
 Pernicious habit ! drawing gradual on 
 Increasing beggary, and Nature's frowns. 
 Add, too, the idle pilferer easier there 
 Eludes detection, when a lamb or owe 
 From intermingled flocks he steals, or when. 
 With loosened tether of his horse or cow. 
 The milky stalk of tho tall green-cared corn. 
 The year's slow-ripening fruit, the anxious hope 
 Of his laborious neighbor, he destroys. 
 
RURAL POETRY. 
 
 NOM-BRITISH WOOLS -, THE GOBELINS. 
 
 There are who overrate our spongy stores, 
 Who deem that nature grants no clime lout ours 
 To spread upon its fields the dews of heaven, 
 And feed the silky fleece ; that card nor comb 
 The hairy wool of Gaul can e'er subdue, 
 To form the thread, and mingle in the loom. 
 Unless a third from Britain swell the heap : 
 Illusion all ; though of our sun and air 
 Not trivial is the virtue, nor their fruit 
 Upon our snowy flocks of small esteem : 
 The grain of brightest tincture none so well 
 Imbibes : the wealthy Gobelins must to this 
 Bear witness, and the costliest of their looms. 
 
 PASTCRES AFFECT THE COLOR OF WOOL. 
 
 And though with hue of crocus or of rose 
 No power of subtle food, or air, or soil. 
 Can dye the living fleece ; yet 'twill avail 
 To note their influence in the tinging vase : 
 Therefore from herbage of old pastured plains. 
 Chief from the matted turf of azure marl 
 Where grow the whitest locks, collect thy stores. 
 Those fields regard not through whose recent turf 
 The miry soil appears ; nor ev'n the streams 
 Of Yare or silver Stroud can purify 
 Their frequent sullied fleece; nor what rough winds. 
 Keen biting, on tempestuous hills, imbrown. 
 
 Yet much may be performed to check the force 
 Of Nature's rigor : the high heath, by trees 
 ViMvi sheltered, may despise the rage of storms : 
 Moors, bogs, and weeping fens, may learn to smih 
 And leave in dikes their soon-forgotten tears. 
 Labor and Art will every aim achieve 
 Of noble bosoms. Bedford Level,^ erst 
 A dreary pathless waste, the coughing flock 
 Was wont with hairy fleeces to deform. 
 And, smiling with her lure of summer flowers, 
 The heavy ox vain struggling to ingulf ; 
 Till one of that high honored, patriot name, 
 Russell ! arose, who drained the rushy fen. 
 Confined the waves, bade groves and gardens bloon 
 And through his new creation led the Ouze 
 And gentle Camus, silver-winding streams ; 
 God-like beneficence ! from chaos drear 
 To raise the garden and the shady grove. 
 
 BOURN ; EFFECTS OF CDLTORB ; ART, TOIL, AND NATURE. 
 
 But see lerne's ^ moors and hideous bogs. 
 Immeasurable tract ! the traveller 
 Slow tries his mazy step on the yielding turf, 
 Shuddering with fear : ev'n such perfidious wilds. 
 By labor won, have yielded to the comb 
 The fairest length of wool. See Deeping-Fens 
 And the long lawns of Bourn. 'T is art and toil 
 Gives Natui'O value, multiplies her stores. 
 Varies, improves, creates : 't is art and toil 
 Teaches her woody hills with fruits to shine. 
 
 Bedford Level, in Cambridgeshh-f 
 
 
 The pear and tasteful apple ; decks with flowers 
 And foodful pulse the fields that often rise. 
 Admiring to behold their furrows wave 
 With yellow corn. What changes cannot toil. 
 With patient art, effect ? 
 
 STATE OF ANCIENT BRITAIN j WILLOW WARE } SARCM ", COTS- 
 
 There was a time 
 When other regions were the swain's delight. 
 And shepherdless Britannia's rushy vales, 
 Inglorious, neither trade nor labor knew. 
 But of rude baskets, homely rustic gear. 
 Woven of the flexile willow ; till, at length. 
 The plains of Sarum opened to the hand 
 Of patient culture, and o'er sinking woods 
 High Cotswold showed her summits. Urchinfield, 
 And Lemster's crofts, beneath the pheasant's brake 
 Long lay unnoted. Toil new pasture gives. 
 And in the regions oft of active Gaul 
 O'er lessening vineyards spreads the growing turf. 
 
 SYRIAN WOOL. — PALESTINE ; TTRIAN DYES ) COLCHIS ; 
 
 In eldest times, when kings and hardy chiefs 
 In bleating sheepfolds met, for purest wool 
 Phoenicia's hilly tracts were most renowned. 
 And fertile Syria's and Judjea's land, 
 Hermon and Seir, and Hebron's brooky sides. 
 Twice with the murex, crimson hue, they tinged 
 The shining fleeces ; hence their gorgeous wealth ; 
 And hence arose the walls of ancient Tyre. 
 
 Next busy Colchis, blessed with frequent rains 
 And lively verdure (who the lucid stream 
 Of Phasis boasted, and a portly race 
 Of fair inhabitants), improved the fleece. 
 When, o'er the deep by flying Phryxus brought. 
 The famed Thessalian ram enriched her plains. 
 
 This rising Greece with indignation viewed. 
 And youthful Jason an attempt conceived 
 Lofty and bold : along Peneus' banks. 
 Around Olympus' brows, the Muses' haunts. 
 He roused the brave to re-demand the fleece. 
 Attend, ye British swains ! the ancient song. 
 From every region of ^Egea's shore 
 The brave assembled ; those illustrious twins, 
 Castor and Pollux ; Orpheus, tuneful bard ; 
 Zetes and Calais, as the wind in speed ; 
 Strong Hercules, and many a chief renowned. 
 
 On deep lolcos' sandy shore they thronged, 
 Gleaming in armor, ardent of exploits ; 
 And soon the laurel cord and the huge stone 
 Uplifting to the deck, unmoored the bark. 
 Whose keel, of wondrous length, the skilful hand 
 Of Argus fashioned for the proud attempt ; 
 And in the extended keel a lofty mast 
 Upraised, and sails full swelling ; to the chiefs 
 Unwonted objects : now first, now they learned 
 Their bolder steerage over ocean wave. 
 Led by the golden stars, as Chiron's art 
 Had marked the sphere celestial. Wide abroad 
 
WINTER — FEBKTJART. 
 
 499 
 
 Expands tho purple deep ; the cloudy isles, 1 
 
 Scyros, and Scopoloa, and Icos, rise, | 
 
 And Hftlonesos : soon huge Lcninos heaves 
 Her azure head above the level brine, 
 Shakes off her mists, and brightens all her cliffs ; 
 While they, her flattering creeks and opening bowers 
 Cautious approaching, in Myrina's port 
 Cast out the cabled stone upon the strand. 
 Next to tho Mysian shore they shape their course, 
 But with too eager haste : in the white foam 
 Uis oar Alcides breaks ; howe'er, not long 
 The chance detains'; he springs upon the shore. 
 And rifting from the roots a tapering pine, 
 Renews his stroke. Between the tlireatening towers 
 Of Hellespont they ply tho rugged surge. 
 To Hero's and Lcandcr's ardent love 
 Fatal ; then smooth Propontis* widening wave. 
 That like a glassy lake expands, with hills, 
 Hills above hills, and gloomy woods begirt : 
 And now the Thracian Bosphorus they dare. 
 Till the Symplcgiules, tremendous rocks ! 
 Threaten approach ; but they, unterrified, [floods 
 Through the sharp-pointed cliffs and thundering 
 Cleave their bold passage ; nathless by the crags 
 And torrents sorely shattered : as the strong 
 Eagle or vulture, in the entangling net [behind. 
 Involved, breaks through, yet leaves his plumes 
 Thus through the wide waves their slow way they 
 To Tbynia's hospitable isle. The brave [force 
 
 Pass many perils, and to fame by such 
 Experience rise. Refreshed, again they speed 
 From capo to cape, and view unnumbered streams, 
 Ilalays, with hoary Lycus, and the mouths 
 Of Asparus and Glaucus, rolling swift 
 To tho broad deep their tributary waves ; 
 Till in the long-sought harbor they arrive 
 Of golden Phasis. Foremost on the strand 
 Jason advanced : tho deep, capacious bay. 
 The crumbling terrace of the marble port. 
 Wondering he viewed, and stately palace-domes, 
 Pavilions proud of luxury : around. 
 In every glittering hall, within, without. 
 O'er all the timbrel-sounding squares and streets. 
 Nothing appeared but luxury, and crowds 
 Sunk deep in riot. To the public weal 
 Attentive none he found ; for he, their chief 
 Of shepherds, proud Aetos, by the name. 
 Sometimes, of king distinguished, 'gan to slight 
 The shepherd's trade, and turn to song and dance : 
 Ev'n Hydrus ceased to watch ; Medea's songs 
 Of joy, and rosy youth, and beauty's charms. 
 With mogic sweetness lulled his cares asleep, 
 Till the bold heroes grasped the Golden Fleece. 
 ^Mmbly they winged the bark, surrounded soon 
 By Neptune's friendly waves : secure they speed 
 O'er the known seas, by every guiding capo. 
 With prosperous return. Tho myrtle shores. 
 And glassy mirror of lolcos' lake, 
 With loud acclaim received them. Every vale, 
 And every hillock, touched the tuneful stops 
 Of pipes unnumbered, for the Ram regained. 
 
 KrrKCTS OF TB« ABOOSiOTlO 
 
 Thus Phosis lost his pride : his slighted nymphs 
 Along the withering dales and pastures mourned ; 
 Tho trade-ship left his streams; the merchant 
 Hie desert borders ; each ingenious art, [shunned 
 Trade, Liberty, and Affluence, all retired. 
 And left to Want and Servitude their seats ; 
 Vile successors ! and gloomy Ignorance, 
 Following like dreary Night, whoso sable hand 
 Hangs on tho purplo skirts of flying Day. 
 
 ASClltST WOOL C01.STBIE3 ; AKCiDU, ATTICA, TIIKSSALV, 
 
 Sithenee tho fleeces of Arcadian plains. 
 And Attic and Thcssalian, bore esteem ; 
 And those in Grecian colonies dispersed, 
 Caria and Doris, and Ionia's coaat. 
 And famed Tarentum, where Galesus" tide, 
 Rolling by ruins hoar of ancient towns, 
 Through solitary valleys seeks the sea : 
 Or green Altinum, by an hundred Alps 
 High-crowned, whoso woods and snowy peaks aloft 
 Shield her low plains from tho rough northern blast. 
 Those too of Ba'tica's delicious fields. 
 With golden fruitage blessed of highest taste. 
 What need I name ? the Turdetanian tract, 
 Or rich Coraxus, whose wide looms unrolled 
 Tho finest webs ! where scarce a talent weighed 
 A ram's equivalent. Then only tin 
 To late-improved Britannia gave renown. 
 
 VICIiWlTCDKS OF PR08PBR1TY. 
 
 Lo ! the revolving course of mighty time. 
 
 Who Ic.ftiiioss aliases, tumbles down 
 
 01vin|.ii- iii.iv :iirl lilts the lowly vale. 
 
 Wli'M I I I! V m1 ancient Rome, 
 
 Xhu 1 -, I" her splendid streets. 
 
 The ^ui.u_> \L-L ui pLLKL', or purple robe. 
 
 Slow-trailed triumphal ? where the Attic fleece. 
 
 And Tarentine, in warmest littered cots. 
 
 Or sunny meadows, clothed with costly care? 
 
 All in the solitude of ruin lost. 
 
 War's horrid carnage, vain Ambition's dust. 
 
 Long lay the mournful realms of elder fame 
 In gloomy desolation, till appeared 
 Beauteous Venetia, first of all the nymphs 
 Who from tho melancholy waste emerged : 
 In Adria's gulf her clotted locks she laved. 
 And rose another Venus : each soft joy. 
 Each aid of life, her busy wit restored ; 
 Science revived, with all the lovely arts, 
 And all the graces. Restituted Trade 
 To every virtue lent his helping stores, 
 And cheered the vales around ; again the pipe 
 And bleating flocks awaked the cheerful lawn. 
 
 DBA ; »0B, TBI 
 LVBU, ATLAS, 
 
 The glossy fleeces i 
 Soft Asia boasts, whe 
 
500 
 
 RURAL POETRY. DYER. 
 
 Within a lofty mound of circling hills, [lakes, 
 
 Spreads her delicious stores ; woods, rocks, caTes, 
 Hills, lawns, and winding streams ; a region termed 
 The paradise of Indus. Next the plains 
 Of Labor, by that arbor stretched immense, 
 Through many a realm, to Agra, the proud throne 
 Of India's worshipped prince, whose lust is law : 
 Remote dominions, nor to ancient fame 
 Nor modern known, till public-hearted Roe, 
 Faithful, sagacious, active, patient, brave, 
 Led to their distant climes advent'rous trade. 
 
 Add, too, the silky wool of Libyan lands, 
 Of Caza's bowery dales, and brooky Cans, 
 Whore lofty Atlas spreads his verdant feet, 
 While in the clouds his hoary shoulders bend. 
 
 Next, proud Iberia glories in the growth 
 Of high Castile, and mild Segovian glades. 
 
 And beauteous Albion, since great Edgar chased 
 The prowling wolf, with many a look appears 
 Of silky lustre ; chief, Siluria, thine ; 
 Thine, Vaga, favored stream ; from sheep minute 
 On Cambria bred : a pound o'erweighs a fleece : 
 Gay Epsom's, too, and Banstead's, and what gleams 
 On Vecta's isle, that shelters Albion's fleet 
 With all its thunders ; or Salopian stores, 
 Those which are gathered in the fields of Clun : 
 High Cotswold also 'mong the shepherd swains 
 Is oft remembered, though the greedy plough 
 Preys on its carpet. He,' whose rustic Muse 
 O'er heath and craggy holt her wing displayed. 
 And sung the bosky bourns of Alfred's shires. 
 Has favored Cotswold with luxuriant praise. 
 Need we the levels green of Lincoln note, 
 Or rich Leicestria's marly plains, for length 
 Of whitest locks and magnitude of fleece 
 Peculiar? envy of the neighboring realms ! 
 But why recount our grassy lawns alone. 
 While ev'n the tillage of our cultured plains. 
 With bossy turnip and luxuriant cole, 
 Learns through the circling year their flocks to feed ? 
 
 CLOTmNO MATERIiLS OF 
 
 CANE, SILK, BARK, GRASS, COTTON, GOAT'S HAIR, BEAVI 
 WOOL THE BEST. 
 
 Ingenious trade, to clothe the naked world. 
 Her soft materials, not from sheep alone, 
 From various animals, reeds, trees, and stones, 
 Collects sagacious. In Eubcea's isle 
 A wondrous rock- is found, of which are woven 
 Vests incombustible ; Batavia, flax ; 
 Siam's warm marish yields the fissile cane ; 
 Soft Persia, silk ; Balasor's shady hills, 
 Tough bark of trees ; Peruvian Pito, grass ; 
 And every sultry clime the snowy down 
 Of cottonj bursting from its stubborn shell 
 To gleam amid the verdure of the grove. 
 
 1 Drayton. 2 a wondrous rock — the Asbestos. 
 
 With glossy hair of Tibet's shagged goat 
 Are light tiaras woven, that wreathe the head, 
 And airy float behind. The beaver's flix 
 Gives kindliest warmth to weak enervate limbs. 
 When the pale blood slow rises through the veins. 
 Still shall o'er all prevail the shepherd's stores, 
 For numerous uses known : none yield such warmth, 
 Such beauteous hues receive, so long endure ; 
 So pliant to the loom, so various, none. 
 
 FAT-TAILED SHEEP OE ASIA MINOR ; KANSAS AND LOUISIANA 
 
 Wild rove the flocks, no burdening fleece they bear 
 In fervid climes : Nature gives naught in vain. 
 Carmanian wool on the broad tail alone 
 Resplendent swells,, enormous in its growth : 
 As the sleek ram from green to green removes, 
 On aiding wheels his heavy pride he draws, 
 And glad resigns it for the hatters' use. 
 
 Ev'n in the new Columbian world appears 
 The woolly covering : Apacheria's glades, 
 And Causes',' echo to the pipes and flocks [sands. 
 Of foreign swains. While Time shakes down his 
 And works continual change, be none secure : 
 Quicken your labors, brace your slackening nerves, 
 Ye Britons ! nor sleep careless on the lap 
 Of bounteous Nature ; she is elsewhere kind. 
 See Mississippi lengthen on her lawns, 
 Propitious to the shepherds : see the sheep ' 
 Of fertile Arica,^ like camels formed, 
 Which bear huge burdens to the sea-beat shore, 
 And shine with fleeces soft as feathery down. 
 
 Coarse Bothnic locks are not devoid of use ; 
 They clothe the mountain carl, or mariner 
 Laboring at the wet shrouds, or stubborn helm, 
 While the loud billows dash the groaning deck. 
 All may not Stroud's or Taunton's vestures weai 
 Nor what, from fleece Ratiean,'' mimic flowers 
 Of rich Damascus : many a texture bright 
 Of that material in Prajtorium* woven, 
 Or in Norvicum, cheats the curious eye. 
 
 If any wool peculiar to our isle 
 Is given by Nature, 't is the comber's lock. 
 The soft, the snow-white, and the long-grown flake. 
 Hither be turned the public's wakeful eye, 
 This golden fleece to guard, with strictest watch. 
 From the dark hand of pilfering Avarice, 
 Who, like a spectre, haunts the midnight hour. 
 When Nature wide around him lies supine 
 And silent, in the tangles soft involved 
 Of death-like sleep : he then the moment marks, 
 While the pale moon illumes the trembling tide. 
 Speedy to lift the canvas, bend the oar. 
 And waft his thefts to the perfidious foe. 
 
 1 Apacheria and Canses [Kansas], provinces in Louisiana, 
 on the western side of the Mississippi. [The Uniteii States 
 produced, in 1850, fifty-two and a half miUion pounds of wool. 
 _ J.] 2 These sheep are called Quanapos. 
 
 s Arica, a province of Peru. 
 
 * Ratasan fleeces, the fleeces of Leicestershire. ' Coventry. 
 
WINTER — FBBRUART. 
 
 501 
 
 llnppy tho patriot who can teach the means 
 To check his frauds, and yet untroubled leave 
 Trade's open channels. Would a generous aid 
 To honest toil, in Cambria's hilly tracts. 
 Or where the Lune ' or Cokor » wind their streams, 
 Bo found sufficient? Far, their airy fields, 
 Far from infectious luxury arise. 
 0, might their mazy dales, and mountain sides, 
 With copious fleeces of lorne shine. 
 And gulfy Caledonia, wisely bent 
 On wealthy fisheries and flaxen webs ; 
 Then would tho sister realms, amid their sett,"!. 
 Like the three graces in harmonious fold. 
 By mutual aid enhance their various charms. 
 And bless remotest climes ! — To this loved end 
 Awake, Bencvolonco ! to this loved end 
 Strain all thy nerves, and every thought explore. 
 
 SELKISUNESS 
 
 Far, far away, whose passions would immure 
 In your own little hearts the joys of life ; 
 (Ye worms of pride !) for your repast alone 
 Who claim all Nature's stores, woods, waters, meads, 
 All her profusion ; whose vile hands would grasp 
 The peasant's scantling, the weak widow's mito, 
 And in the sepulchre of Self entomb 
 Whato'er ye can, whato'er ye cannot use. 
 Know, for superior ends the Almighty Power 
 (The Power whoso tender arms embrace tho worm) 
 Breathes o'er the foodful earth the breath of life, 
 And forms us manifold ; allots to each 
 His fair peculiar, wisdom, wit, and strength ; 
 Wisdom, and wit, and strength, in sweet accord. 
 To aid, to cheer, to counsel, to protect. 
 And twist the mighty bond. Thus feeble man. 
 With man united, is a nation strong ; 
 Builds towery cities, satiates every want, 
 And makes the seas profound, and forests wild. 
 The gardens of his joys. Man, each man 's born 
 For the high business of the public good. 
 
 WISDOM. — PUKB BBLIOION DEFISBD. 
 
 For me, 't is mine to pray that men regard 
 Their occupations with an honest heart 
 And cheerful diligence ; like the useful bee. 
 To gather for the hive not sweets alone, 
 But wax, and each material ; pleased to find 
 Whate'er may soothe distress, and raise the fallen. 
 In life's rough race. 0, be it as my wish ! 
 'T is mine to teach th' inactive hand to reap 
 Kind Nature's bounties, o'er tho globe diffused. 
 
 For this I wake the weary hours of rest ; 
 With this desire, the merchant I attend ; 
 By this impelled, the shepherd's hut I seek. 
 And, as he tends his flock, his lectures hear 
 Attentive, pleased with pure simplicity, 
 
 » Lune, a river in Cumberland. 
 2 Cokcr, a river in Lancashire. 
 
 And rules divulged bonefloont to aheep : 
 Or turn tho compass o'er tho painted chart. 
 To mark the ways of traflio ; Volga's stream, 
 Cold Uudson's cloudy straits, warm Afric's cape, 
 Latium's firm roads, tho Ptolemean fosse. 
 And China's long canals ; those noble works. 
 Those high effects of oiviliiing trade, 
 Employ me, sedulous of public weal : 
 Yet not unmindful of my sacred charge ; 
 Thus also mindful, thus devising good. 
 At vacant seasons oft, when evening mild 
 Purples tho valleys, and the shepherd counts 
 His flock, returning to tho quiet fold 
 With dumb complacence ; for religion, this. 
 To give our every comfort to distress, 
 And follow virtue with an humble mind ; 
 This pure religion. 
 
 BISHOP BLiIZE ASD BIS IMVESTInN OF WOOI.-COMBISO ; 
 A BLBSSl.MO TO TUB POOn. 
 
 Thus, in elder time. 
 The reverend Blasius wore his leisure hours. 
 And slumbers broken oft ; till, filled at length 
 j With inspiration, after various thought. 
 And trials manifold, his well-known voice 
 Gathered the poor, and o'er Vulcanian stoves. 
 With tepid lees of oil, and spiky comb, [length. 
 Showed how the fleece might stretch to greater 
 And cast a glossier whiteness. Wheels went round; 
 Matrons and maids with songs relieved their toils, i 
 And every loom received the softer yarn. 
 What poor, what widow, Blasius ! did not bless 
 Thy teaching hand ? thy bosom, like the morn, 
 Opening its wealth, what nation did not seek 
 Of thy new-modelled wool tho curious webs ? 
 
 FESTIVALS IS HOSOB OF BP. BI.AIZE DESCRIBED. 
 
 Hence the glad cities of the loom his name 
 Honor with yearly festals : through their streets 
 The pomp, with tuneful sounds and order just. 
 Denoting Labor's happy progress, moves, 
 Procession slow and solemn : first the rout. 
 Then servient youth, and magisterial eld ; 
 Each after each, according to his rank, 
 His sway, and office, in the common weal ; 
 And to the board of smiling Plenty's stores 
 Assemble, where delicious cates and fruits 
 Of every clime are piled ; and with free hand 
 Toil only tastes the feast, by nerveless Ease 
 Unrelished. Various mirth and song resound ; 
 And oft they interpose improving talk. 
 Divulging each to other knowledge rare. 
 Sparks from experience that sometimes arise. 
 Till night weighs down tho sense, or morning's 
 Houses to labor man to labor born. [dawn 
 
 WOOL COSIBISQ AND CABDISO i BLEACHISO ASD DTBI.IO 
 MATERIALS J BLACK, SCARLBT, OBBES COLORS. 
 
 Then the sleek brightening lock from hand to hand 
 Renews its circling course : this feels tho card ; 
 That, in the oomb, admires its growing length ; 
 
502 
 
 RURAL POETRY. DYER. 
 
 This, blanched, emerges from the oily wave j 
 And that, the amber tint or ruby drinks. 
 
 For it suffices not in flowery vales 
 Only to tend the flock, and shear soft wool ; 
 Gums must be stored of Guinea's arid coast, 
 Mexican woods, and India's brightening salts ; 
 Fruits, herbage, sulphurs, minerals, to stain 
 The fleece prepared, with oil-imbibing earth 
 Of Wooburn blanches, and keen alum-waves 
 Intenerate. With curious eye observe 
 In what variety the tribe of salts. 
 Gums, ores, and liquors, eye-delighting hues 
 Produce, abstersive or restringent ; how 
 Steel casts the sable ; how pale pewter, fused 
 In fluid spirituous, the scarlet dye ; 
 And how each tint is made, or mixed, or changed, 
 By mediums colorless : why is the fume 
 Of sulphur kind to white and azure hues. 
 Pernicious else ? why no materials yield 
 Singly their colors, those except that shine 
 With topaz, sapphire, and cornelian rays : 
 And why, though Nature's face is clothed in green. 
 No green is found to beautify the fleece 
 But what repeated toil by mixture gives. 
 
 DYEING 5 DREBET } CRIMSON ; MELCARTH OR 
 
 To find efiects where causes lie concealed 
 Reason uncertain tries : howe'er, kind Chance 
 Oft with equivalent discovery pays 
 Its wandering eSbrts. Thus the German sage, 
 Diligent Drebet, o'er alchymie Are 
 Seeking the secret source of gold, received 
 Of altered cochineal the crimson store. 
 Tyrian Meloartus thus (the first who brought 
 Tin's useful ore from Albion's distant isle. 
 And for unwearied toils and arts the name 
 Of Hercules acquired), when o'er the mouth 
 Of his attendant sheep-dog he beheld 
 The wounded murex strike a purple stain, 
 The purple stain on fleecy woofs he spread, 
 Which lured the eye, adorning many a nymph. 
 And drew the pomp of trade to rising Tyre. 
 
 NATIVE BRITISH DTE-STDFFS j WELD, MADDER, WOAD. 
 
 Our valleys yield not, or but sparing yield. 
 The dyer's gay materials. Only weld. 
 Or root of madder, here, or purple woad. 
 By which our naked ancestors obscured 
 Their hardy limbs, inwrought with mystic forms. 
 Like Egypt's obelisks. The powerful sun 
 Hot India's zone with gaudy pencil paints, 
 And drops delicious tints o'er hill and dale. 
 Which Trade to us conveys. 
 
 Him, the all-wise Creator, and declares 
 
 His presence, power, and goodn 
 
 'T is Trade, attentive voyager, who fills 
 
 His lips with argument. To censure Trade, 
 
 Or hold her busy people in contempt. 
 
 Let none presume. The dignity, and grace. 
 
 And weal of human life, their fountains owe 
 
 To seeming imperfections, to vain wants, 
 
 Or real exigencies ; passions swift 
 
 Forerunning reason ; strong contrarious bents. 
 
 The steps of men dispersing wide abroad 
 
 O'er realms and seas. There, in the solemn scene, 
 
 Infinite wonders glare before their eyes. 
 
 Humiliating the mind enlarged ; for they 
 
 The clearest sense of Deity receive 
 
 Who view the widest prospectof his works, [climes; 
 
 Ranging the globe with trade through various 
 
 Who see the signatures of boundless love, 
 
 Nor less the judgments of Almighty Power, 
 
 That warn the wicked, and the wretch who 'scapes 
 
 From human justice ; who, astonished, view 
 
 .Etna's loud thunders and tempestuous fires ; 
 
 The dust of Carthage ; desert shores of Nile ; 
 
 Or Tyre's abandoned summit, crowned of old [isles 
 
 With stately towers ; whose merchants, from their 
 
 And radiant thrones, assembled in their marts ; 
 
 Whither Arabia, whither Kedar, brought [Iambs ; 
 
 Their shaggy goats, their flocks, and bleating 
 
 Where rich Damascus piled his fleeces white. 
 
 Prepared, and thirsty for the double tint 
 
 And flowering shuttle. 
 
 TTRE. — RUINOUS EFFECTS OF COMMEROAL WEALTH THROUGH 
 
 While th' admiring world 
 Crowded her streets, ah ! then the hand of Pride 
 Sowed imperceptible his poisonous weed, 
 Which crept destructive up her lofty domes, 
 As ivy creeps around the graceful trunk 
 Of some tall oak. Her lofty domes no more, 
 Not even the ruins of her pomp remain ; 
 Not even the dust they sunk in ; by the breath 
 Of the Omnipotent oifended hurled 
 Down to the bottom of the stormy deep : 
 Only the solitary rock remains. 
 Her ancient site ; a monument to those 
 Who toil and wealth exchange for sloth and pride.' 
 
 Not tints alone ; 
 Trade to the good physician gives his balms ; 
 Gives cheering cordials to th' afliicted heart ; 
 Gives to the wealthy delicacies high ; 
 Gives to the curious works of Nature rare ; 
 And when the priest displays, in just discourse, 
 
 I ti-uly and permanently prosper. 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 labor. The several 
 methods of spinning. Description of the looni, and of 
 weaving. Variety of looms. The fuUing-mlU described, 
 and the progress of the manufacture. Dyeing of 
 and the excellence of the French in that i 
 negligence of our artificers. The 111 < 
 neas. Country workhouses proposed ; 
 of one. Good etPecta of industry exemplifled In the pros- 
 pect of nurstal and Leeds ; and the cloth-market there 
 described. Preftrence of the labors of Uie loom to other 
 
 of the art of weaving ; Its removal from the Netherlands, 
 and settlement in several parts of England. Censure of 
 those who would rejwt the perspcutH aii'l rb.' «lranper ; 
 
 todiir.T. li • ■ \ . ■. ' 
 
 ', M ■ i ■ I.I iliL-ir 
 
 imluscij,;!. 
 
 
 
 
 rivers tlin.ush »l,i >. 
 
 
 Our iiaviRiitions M.t i 
 
 : . .lillfaC- 
 
 
 
 Egypt in joining tl. X i; 
 
 
 ocean and the Meaitci-niiieiui. Su 
 
 
 easily Iw performed in England, an 
 
 d the Trent and Severn 
 
 united to the Thames. Descripti 
 
 
 the port of London. 
 
 
 Proceed, /Vrcadian Muse ! resume the pipe 
 Of Ilermes, long diffused, though sweet the tone, 
 And to the songs of Nature's choristers 
 Ilarmonious. Audience pure be thy delight. 
 Though few ; for every note which Virtue wounds, 
 However pleasing to the vulgar herd, 
 To the purged ear is discord. Yet too oft 
 Has false dissembling Vice to amorous airs 
 The reed applied, and heedless youth allured : 
 Too oft, with bolder sound, inflamed the rage 
 Of horrid war. Let now the fleecy looms 
 Direct our rural numbers, as of old, [haunts. 
 
 When plains and sheep-folds were the Muacs' 
 
 So thou, the friend of every virtuous deed 
 And aim, though feeble, shalt these rural lays 
 Approve, Heathcote ! ' whose benevolence 
 Visits our valleys, where the pasture spreads, 
 And where the bramble, and would justly act 
 True charity, by teaching idle Want 
 And Vice the inclination to do good ; 
 Good to themselves, and in themselves to all. 
 Through grateful toil. 
 
 LABOR. — HONOR TO LABOR IN ANCIENT COMUONWEALTHS. 
 
 Even Nature lives by toil : 
 Beast, bird, air, fire, the heavens, and rolling 
 All live by notion : nothing lies at rest [worlds, 
 But death and ruin : man is born to care ; 
 Fashioned, improved, by labor. This of old 
 Wise states observing, gave that happy law 
 Which doomed the rich and needy, every rank, 
 
 1 Sir John Heathcote, of Normanton, in Rutlandshire. 
 
 To manual occupation : and oft called 
 
 Their chieftains from the spade, or furrowing plough, 
 
 Or bleating sheepfold. Hence utility 
 
 Through all conditions ; hence the Joys of health ; 
 
 Hence strength of arm, and clear judicious thought; 
 
 Hence corn, and wine, and oil, and all in lifo 
 
 Delectable. 
 
 What simple Nature yields 
 (And Nature does her part) are only rude 
 Materials, cumbers on the thorny ground ; [fleece 
 'Tis toil that makes them wealth ; that makes the 
 (Yet useless, rising in unshapen heaps) 
 Anon, in curious woofs of beauteous hue, 
 A vesture usefully succinct and warm, 
 Or, trailing in the length of graceful folds, 
 A royal mantle. 
 
 Come, ye village nymphs ! 
 The scattered mists reveal the dusky hills ; 
 Gray dawn appears ; the golden morn ascends. 
 And paints the glittering rocks, and purple woods, 
 And flaming spires : arise, begin your toils ; 
 Behold the fleece beneath the spiky comb 
 Drop its long looks, or from the mingling card 
 Spread in soft flakes, and swell the whitened floor. 
 
 SPINSINP. i ITS DIKKERENT KINDS. 
 
 Come, village nymphs, yo luatrtms, and ye maids ! 
 
 Receive the s'lU iniii'i I, it ; wkIiIi^miI -\'\> 
 Whether ye tin n ,i; u' I i ■ | i. i . .1. 
 
 Or, patient sirr m j ' ! r i . I , • , ■. i, [i \ im,^ 
 An..rn.w.T.M, : <k, d.c l.nllk >»..ik 
 Pi.il. I I I I ■ y . ;iud let the hand assist 
 T.I ^'111 i .1 I II : I ih._' gently-lessening thread ; 
 
 viU I 
 
 skill. 
 
 A (litlVrLiit spinning c\'ery diff"crcnt web 
 
 Asks from your glowing fingers : some require 
 
 The more compact and some the looser wreath ; 
 
 The last f.jr softness, to delight the touch 
 
 Of chambered delicacy : scarce the cirque 
 
 Need turn around, or twine the lengthening flake. 
 
 There are, to speed their labor, who prefer 
 Wheels double-spooled, which yield to either hand 
 A several line ; and many yet adhere 
 To th' ancient distaif, at the bosom fixed. 
 Casting the whirling spindle as they walk : 
 At homo, or in the sheepfold, or the mart. 
 Alike the work proceeds. This method still 
 Norvicum favors, and the Icenian ' towns : 
 It yields their airy stufls an aptor thread. 
 
 HELEN AND HER BISTAFF ; PAfL'S SPIRAL ENOINE, Wmi 
 UAXr SPOOLS. 
 
 This was of old, in no inglorious days, 
 The mode of spinning when the Egyptian prinoe 
 
 ' The Iceol v 
 
 : the Inhabitants of SuOblk. 
 
504 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 A golden distaff gave that beauteous nymph, 
 Too beauteous Helen ! no unoourtly gift 
 Then, when each gay diversion of the fair 
 Led to ingenious use. But patient art, 
 That on experience worlis, from hour to hour, 
 Sagacious, has a spiral engine^ formed, 
 Which on an hundred spools an hundred threads, 
 With one huge wheel, by lapse of water, twines. 
 Pew hands requiring ; easy tended work, 
 That copiously supplies the greedy loom. 
 
 LABOR-SAVING MACmNERY ; IT NEED NOT RODSE THE JEAL- 
 OUST OF OPERATIVES. — CHEERFUL OCCUPATIONS. 
 
 Nor hence, ye nymphs ! let anger cloud youi 
 
 The more is wrought the more is still required : 
 Blithe o'er your toils, with wonted song, proceed : 
 Fear not surcharge ; your hands will ever find 
 Ample employment. In the strife of trade 
 These curious instruments of speed obtain 
 Various advantage, and the diligent 
 Supply with exercise, as fountains sure, 
 Which ever-gliding feed the flowery lawn : 
 Nor, should the careful State, severely kind. 
 In every province to the house of toil, 
 Compel the vagrant, and each implement 
 Of ruder art, the comb, the card, the wheel. 
 Teach their unwilling hands, nor yet complain : 
 Yours with the public good shall ever rise, 
 Ever, while o'er the lawns and airy downs 
 The bleating sheep and shepherd's pipe are heard ; 
 While in the brook ye blanch the glistening fleece, 
 And the amorous youth, delighted with your toils, 
 Quavers the choicest of his sonnets, warmed 
 By growing traffic, friend to wedded love. 
 
 The amorous youth with various hopes inflamed, 
 Now on the busy stage see him step forth, 
 With beating breast : high-honored he beholds 
 Rich industry. First, he bespeaks a loom ; 
 From some thick wood the carpenter selects 
 A slender oak, or beech of glossy trunk. 
 Or sapling ash : he shapes the sturdy beam, 
 The posts, and treadles, and the frame combines : 
 The smith, with iron screws and plated hoops, 
 Confirms the strong machine, and gives the bolt 
 That strains the roll. To these the turner's lathe 
 And graver's knife the hollow shuttle add. 
 "Various professions in the work unite, 
 For each on each depends. Thus he acquires 
 The curious engine, work of subtle skill ; 
 Howe'er, in vulgar use around the globe 
 Frequent observed, of high antiquity 
 No doubtful mark : the adventurous voyager, 
 Tossed over ocean to remotest shores. 
 Hears on remotest shores the murmuring loom, 
 Sees the deep-furrowing plough and harrowed field, 
 
 The wheel-moved wagon, and the discipline 
 Of strong-yoked steers. What needful art i 
 
 Next, the industrious youth employs his care 
 To store soft yarn ! and now he strains the warp 
 Along the garden-walk, or highway side, 
 Smoothing each thread : now fits it to the loom. 
 And sits before the work ; from hand to hand 
 The thready shuttle glides along the lines. 
 Which open to the woof, and shut, altorn ; 
 And ever and anon, to firm the work, 
 Against the web is driven the noisy frame, 
 Tliiit o'er the level rushes, like a surge 
 Which, often dashing on the sandy beach, 
 Compacts the traveller's road : from hand to hand 
 Again, across the lines oft opening, glides 
 The thready shuttle, while the web apace 
 Increases, as the light of eastern skies 
 Spread by the rosy fingers of the morn, 
 And all the fair expanse with beauty glows. 
 
 Or if the broader mantle be the task. 
 He chooses some companion to his toil. 
 From side to side, with amicable aim, 
 Each to the other darts the nimble bolt ; 
 While friendly converse, prompted by the work, 
 Kindles improvement in the opening mind. 
 
 VARIOUS KINDS OF LOOMS } FIGURING AND STOCKING L003IS. 
 
 What need we name the several kinds of looms ? 
 Those delicate, to whose fair-colored threads 
 Hang figured weights, whose various numbers guide 
 The artist's hand : he, unseen flowers, and trees. 
 And vales, and azure hills, unerring works : 
 Or that, whose numerous needles, glittering bright. 
 Weave the warm hose to cover tender limbs ; 
 Modern invention ; modern is the want. 
 
 Next, from the slackened beam the woof unrolled, 
 Near solne clear-sliding river, Aire or Stroud, 
 Is by the noisy fulling-mill received ; 
 AVhere tumbling waters turn enormous wheels. 
 And hammers, rising and descending, learn 
 To imitate the industry of man. 
 
 Oft the wet web is steeped, and often raised, 
 Past dripping, to the river's grassy bank, 
 A nd sinewy arms of men, with full-strained strength. 
 Wring out the latent water : then up hung 
 On rugged tenters, to the fervid sun 
 Its level surface, reeking, it expands ; 
 Still brightening in each rigid discipline. 
 And gathered worth ; as human life, in pains, 
 Conflicts, and troubles. Soon the clothiei-'s shears 
 And burlei-'s thistle skim the surface sheen. 
 The round of work goes on from day to day, 
 Season to season. So the husbandman 
 Pursues his cares ; his plough divides the glebe ; 
 The seed is sown ; rough rattle o'er the clods 
 The harrow's teeth ; quick weeds his hoe subdues : 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 505 
 
 The sicklo labors, and the slow team strains, 
 Till grateful harvest-homo rewards his toils. 
 
 DTKISC; WBLD, FCSTIC, COCUISEiL, W04D. — STOW«. 
 
 The ingenious artist, learned in drugs, bestows 
 The last improvement ; for the unlabored flcceo 
 Kare is permitted to imbibe the dye. 
 In penetrating waves of boiling vats 
 The snowy web is steeped, with grain of weld, 
 Fustic, or logwood, mixed, or cochineal. 
 Or the dark purple pulp of Pictish woad, 
 Of stain tenacious, deep as summer skies. 
 Like those that canopy the bowers of Stow 
 After soft rains, when birds their notes attune. 
 Ere the melodious nightingale begins. 
 
 COLORS, MOBDASTS, PIXATIVBS i FIVE PRIMAL COLORS. — 
 TUS BEST DVE, ASD^DYEISG. 
 
 From yon broad vase behold the saffron woofs 
 Beauteous emerge ; from these the azure rise j 
 This glows with crimson ; that the auburn holds ; 
 These shall the prince with purple robes adorn. 
 And those the warrior mark, and those the priest. 
 
 Few are the primal colors of the art ; 
 Five only ; black, and yellow, blue, brown, red ; 
 Yet hence innumerable hues arise. 
 
 That stain alone is good which bears unchanged 
 Dissolving water's, and calcining sun's, 
 And thieving air's attacks, llow great the need 
 With utmost caution to prepare the woof, 
 To seek the best-adapted dyes, and salts. 
 And purest gums ! since your whole skill consists 
 In opening well the fibres of the woof. 
 For the reception of the beauteous dye. 
 And wedging every grain in every pore. 
 Firm as a diamond in rich gold enchased. 
 
 ENGLISH AND FRENCH DYES. 
 
 But what the powers, wh ich lock them in the web ; 
 Whether incrusting salts, or weight of air. 
 Or fountain-water's cold contracting wave, 
 Or all combined, it well befiU to know. 
 Ah ! wherefore have we lost our old repute ? 
 And who inquires the cause why Gallia's sons 
 In depth and brilliancy of hues e.^cel ? 
 Yet yield not, Britons ! grasp in every art 
 The foremost name. Let others tamely view, 
 On crowded Smyrna's and Byzantium's strand. 
 The haughty Turk despise their proffered bales. 
 
 TOE weaver's CDBSE, INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 Now sec, o'er vales and peopled mountain-tops 
 The welcome traders gathering every web. 
 Industrious, every web too few. Alas ! 
 Successless oft their industry, when cease 
 The loom and shuttle in the troubled streets ; 
 Their motion stopped by wild intemperance. 
 Toil's scoffing foe, who lures the giddy rout 
 To scorn their task-work, and to vagrant life 
 Turns their rude steps, while Misery, among 
 The cries of infants, haunts their mouldering huts. 
 
 64 
 
 when, through every province, sholl be raised 
 Houses of labor, seats of kind constraint. 
 For those who now delight in fruitless sports 
 More than in cheerful works of virtuous trade. 
 Which honest wealth would yield, and portion duo 
 Of public welfare ? Ho, ye poor ! who seek. 
 Among the dwellings of the diligent. 
 For sustenance unearned ; who stroll abroad 
 From house to house, with mischievous intent, 
 Feigning misfortune : ho, ye lame ! ye blind ! 
 Yc languid limbs, with real want oppressed. 
 Who tread the rough highways and mountains wild, 
 Through storms, and rains, and bitterness of heart ; 
 Ye children of affliction ! bo compelled 
 To happiness : the long-wished daylight dawns. 
 When charitable Kigor shall detain 
 Your step-bruised feet. Even now the sons of Trade, 
 Where'er their cultivated hamlets smile, 
 Erect the mansion : ^ here soft fleeces shine ; 
 The card awaits you, and the comb, and wheel : 
 Here shroud you from the thunder of the storm ; 
 No rain shall wet your pillow : here abounds 
 Pure beverage ; here your viands are prepared : 
 To heal each sickness the physician waits. 
 And priest entreats to give your Maker praise. 
 
 CALDER-VALB. — WOOL-WEAVISO IN WORK-HOCSES ; WAKB- 
 
 Bchold, in Calder's 2 vale, where wide around 
 Unnumbered villas creep the shrubby hills, 
 A spacious dome for this fair purpose rise : 
 High o'er the oiien gates, with gracious air, 
 Eliza's image stands. By gentle steps 
 Up-raised, from room to room we slowly walk, 
 And view with wonder, and with silent joy, 
 The sprightly scene ; where many a busy hand. 
 Where spools, cards, wheels, and looms, with motion 
 
 And ever-murmuring sound, the unwonted sense 
 Wrap in surprise. To see them all employed. 
 All blithe, it gives the spreading heart delight. 
 As neither meats, nor drinks, nor aught of joy 
 Corporeal, can bestow. Nor less they gain 
 Virtue than wealth, while, on their useful works 
 From day to day intent, in their full minds 
 Evil no place can find. 
 
 With equal scalo 
 Some deal abroad the well-assorted fleece ; 
 These card the short, those comb the longer flake : 
 Others the harsh and clotted lock receive. 
 Yet sever and refine with patient toil. 
 And bring to proper use. Flax too, and hemp. 
 Excite their diligence. The younger hands 
 Ply at the easy work of winding yarn 
 
 • Erect the mansion. This alludes to the work-homes i 
 Bristol, Birmingham, *c. 
 
 ! Cnldcr, a river in Yorkshire, which nins below IlaUllu, 
 and passes bjr WakcHcld. 
 
506 
 
 RURAL POETRY. 
 
 On swiftly-circling engines, and their notes 
 Warble together, as a choir of larks ; 
 Such joy arises in the inind employed. 
 Another scene displays the more robust 
 Rasping or grinding tough Brazilian woods, 
 And what Campeachy's disputable shore 
 Copious affords to tinge the thirsty web, 
 And the Caribbee isles, whose dulcet canes 
 Equal the honeycomb. 
 
 Wo next are shown 
 A circular machine,' of new design, 
 In conic shape : it draws and spins a thread 
 Without the tedious toil of needless hands. 
 A wheel, invisible, beneath the floor. 
 To every member of the harmonious frame 
 Gives necessary motion. One, intent, 
 O'erlooks the work : the carded wool, he says, 
 Is smoothly lapped around those cylinders. 
 Which, gently turning, yield it to yon cirque 
 Of upright spindles, which with rapid whirl 
 Spin out, in long extent, an even twine. 
 
 From this delightful mansion (if wo seek 
 Still more to view the gifts which honest toil 
 Distributes) take we now our eastward course 
 To the rich fields of Burstal. Wide around 
 Hillock and valley, farm and village, smile ; 
 And ruddy roofs and chimney tops appear 
 Of busy Leeds, up-wafting to the clouds 
 The incense of thanksgiving : all is joy ; 
 And trade and business guide the living scene. 
 Roll the full cars, adown the winding Aire 
 Load the slow-sailing barges, pile the pack 
 On the long tinkling train of slow-paced steeds. 
 
 DIGNITY OF ISDDSTRT. 
 
 As when a sunny day invites abroad 
 The sedulous ants, they issue from their cells 
 In bands unnumbered, eager for their work ; 
 O'er high, o'er low, they lift, they draw, they haste 
 With warm affection to each other's aid. 
 Repeat their virtuous efforts, and succeed. 
 Thus all is here in motion, all is life : 
 The creaking wain brings copious store of corn ; 
 The grazier's sleeky kine obstruct the roatls ; 
 The neat-dressed housewives, for the festal board 
 Crowned with full baskets, in the field-way paths 
 Come tripping on ; the echoing hills repeat 
 The stroke of axe and hammer ; scaffolds rise. 
 And growing edifices ; heaps of stone. 
 Beneath the chisel, beauteous shapes assume 
 Of frize and column. Some, with even line, 
 New streets are marking in the neighboring fields. 
 
 And sacred domes of worship. Industry, 
 Which dignifies the artist, lifts the swain, 
 And the straw cottage to a palace turns. 
 Over the work presides. 
 
 trader's exchange. 
 
 Such was the scene 
 Of hurrying Carthage, when the Trojan chief 
 First viewed her growing turrets : so appear 
 The increasing walls of busy Manchester, 
 Shefiield, and Birmingham, whose reddening fields 
 Rise and enlarge their suburbs. Lo ! in throngs. 
 For every realm, the careful factors meet. 
 Whispering each other. In long ranks the bales. 
 Like War's bright files, beyond the sight extend. 
 Straight, ere the sounding bell the signal strikes. 
 Which ends the hour of traffic, they conclude 
 The speedy compact ; and, well-pleased, transfer. 
 With mutual benefit, superior wealth 
 To many a kingdom's rent, or tyrant's hoard. 
 
 Whate'er is excellent in art proceeds 
 From labor and endurance. Deep the oak 
 Must sink in stubborn earth its roots obscure. 
 That hopes to lift its branches to the skies. 
 Gold cannot gold appear, until man's toil 
 Discloses wide the mountain's hidden ribs. 
 And digs the dusky ore, and breaks and grinds 
 Its gritty parts, and laves in limpid streams, 
 With oft-repeated toil, and oft in fire 
 The metal purifies : with the fatigue 
 And tedious process of its painful works 
 The lusty sicken, and the feeble die. 
 
 SUPERIORITY OF WOOLEN MANUFACTURING OVER OTHER I! 
 DUSTRT ; COMPARED WITH THAT OF FLAX, SILK, COTTON, 
 
 But cheerful are the labors of the loom, 
 By health and ease accompanied : they bring 
 Superior treasures speedier to the state 
 Than those of deep Peruvian mines, where slaves 
 (Wretched requital !) drink, with trembling hand. 
 Pale palsy's baneful cup. Our happy swains 
 Behold arising in their fattening flocks 
 A double wealth, more rich than Belgium's boast. 
 Who tends the culture of the flaxen reed ; 
 Or the Cathayan's, whose ignobler care 
 Nurses the silk-worm ; or of India's sons. 
 Who plant the cotton-grove by Ganges' stream. 
 Nor do their toils and products furnish more 
 Than gauds and dresses, of fantastic web. 
 To the luxurious : but our kinder toils 
 Give clothing to necessity ; keep warm 
 The unhappy wanderer on the mountain wild 
 Benighted, while the tempest beats around. 
 
 HOOD AS SOLDIERS, SAILORS, COLONISTS. 
 
 No, ye soft sons of Ganges, and of Ind, 
 Ye feebly delicate ! life little needs 
 Your feminine toys, nor asks your nerveless arm 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 507 
 
 To cast tho strong-flung shuttle or the gpear. 
 Can yo defend your country from tho storm 
 Of strong invasion ? Can yo want endure, 
 In the bcsiogM fort, with courage firm ? 
 Can yo tho weather-beaten vessel steer, 
 Climb the tall mast, direct tho stubborn helm, 
 Hid wild discordant waves, with steady course? 
 Can ye lead out, to distant colonics, 
 The o'erflowings of a people, or your wronged 
 Brethren, by impious persecution driven. 
 And arm their breasts with fortitude to try 
 New regions ; climes, though barren, yet beyond 
 The baneful power of tyrants ! These are deeds 
 To which their hardy labors well prepare 
 The sinewy arm of Albion's sons. 
 
 MIGRATIOSS OF IDE WEiVISO ART ; PROM KGVPT TO PHffiSI- 
 CIA, GRBECS, VENICE, FLANDERS, BRITAIN. — SCIENCE. 
 
 Pursue, 
 Ye sons of Albion ! with unyielding heart. 
 Your hardy labors ; let tho sounding loom 
 Mix with tho melody of every vale ; 
 Tho loom, that long-renowned, wide-envied gift. 
 Of wealthy Flandria," who the boon received 
 From fair Venetia ; she from Grecian nymphs ; 
 They from Phenice, who obtained the dole 
 From old J3gyptus. Thus, around the globe 
 The golden-footed Sciences their path 
 Mark, like the sun, enkindling life and joy ; 
 And, followed close by Ignorance and Pride, 
 Lead Bay and Night o'er realms. 
 
 FLEMINGS, EXILED TOBOtlGB THE DCKE OF ALVA'S TTRANNT, 
 
 Our day arose. 
 When Alva's tyranny the weaving arts 
 Drove from tho fertile valleys of the Soheld. 
 With speedy wing and scattered course thoy fled. 
 Like a community of bees, disturbed 
 By some relentless swain's rapacious hand ; 
 "While good Eliza to the fugitives 
 Gave gracious welcome ; as wise Egypt orst 
 To troubled Nilus, whose nutritious Hood 
 With annual gratitude enriched her meads. 
 Then from fair Antwerp an industrious train 
 Crossed tho smooth channel of our smiling seas. 
 And in tho vales of Cantium, on the banks 
 Of Stour alighted, and the naval wave 
 Of spacious Medwoy : ."oino on gentle Yare 
 And fertile Wavonoy pitched, and made their seats 
 Pleasant Xorvicum and Coloestria's towers : 
 Some to the Daront sped their happy way : 
 
 SOME MANCFACTCRINO EMIGRANTS CAME FROM BEROUEM, 
 SLCVS, BRUGES, ALONG THE SOUTU OF ENGLAND, TO TOE 
 SEVERS, HEREFORD, WALKS, ETC. 
 
 Berghem, and Pluys, and older Bruges, chose 
 Antona's chalky plains, and stretched their tents 
 Down to Clauscntum, and that bay supine 
 Beneath the shade of Vecta's olifly isle. 
 Soon o'er the hospitable realm they spread, 
 
 With cheer revived ; and in i 
 And the Silurian Tame, their textures blanched ; 
 Not undclighted with Vigornia's spires, 
 Nor those by Vaga's stream, from ruins raised 
 Of ancient Ariconium ; nor less pleased 
 With Salop's various scenes, and that soft troot 
 Of Cambria, deep-embayed, Dimotian land, 
 By green hills fenced, by ocean's murmur lulled ; 
 Nurse of the rustic bard, who now resounds 
 The fortunes of tho fleece ; whose ancestors 
 Were fugitives from Superstition's rage. 
 And erst from Devon thither brought the loom, 
 Where ivied walls of old Kidwelly's towers, 
 Nodding, still on their gloomy brows project 
 Lanciistria's arms, embossed in mouldering stone. 
 Thus, then, on Albion's coo^t the exiled band. 
 From rich Mcnapian towns, and the green banks 
 Of Schcld, alighted ; and, alighting, sang 
 Grateful thanksgiving. 
 
 EFFECTS OF TOE IMMIGRATION OF THE FLEMISH WEAVERS 
 TCR.N'INO SHBPUERDS AND IDLERS TO OPERATIVES. 
 
 Yet at times they shift 
 Their habitations, when the hand of pride. 
 Restraint, or southern luxury, disturbs 
 Their industry, and urges them to vales 
 Of tho Brigantes j = where, with happier care 
 Inspirited, their art improves the fleece. 
 Which occupation orst, and wealth immense. 
 Gave Brabant's swarming habitants, what time 
 We were their shepherds only ; from which state 
 With friendly arm they raised us : nathless some 
 Among our old and stubborn swains misdeemed 
 And envied who enriched them ; envied those 
 Whose virtues taught the varletry of towns 
 To useful toil to turn the pilfering hand. 
 
 BRITAIN TBE REFCGE OF 
 
 And still, when Bigotry's black clouds orise 
 (For oft they sudden rise in papal realms). 
 They from their isle, as from some ark secure, 
 Careless, unpitying, view the fiery bolts 
 Of superstition and tyronnie rage. 
 And all tho fury of the rolling storm. 
 Which fierce pursues the suflcrers in their flight. 
 Shall not our gates, shall not Britannia's arms, 
 Spread ever open to receive their flight? 
 A virtuous people, by distresses oft 
 (Distresses for the sake of truth endured) 
 Corrected, dignified ; creating good 
 Wherever they inhabit : this our isle 
 Has oft experienced ; witness all ye realms. 
 Of either hemisphere where commerce flows : 
 
 1 3 Flandria, Flanders; 
 nida ; ^gyptns, Egypt ; NIlua, 
 Norvicum, Norwich ; Colceslrla, Colchester ; Anlona, Uio 
 Avon ; Clausentum, Svuthunpuin 0) i Vccla, the Isle of 
 Wight ; Sabrlna, Severn ; Silurian Taoie, Ihc Tend, which 
 runs by Ludlow i Vlgornia, Worcester -, Vaga, the Wye •, 
 note, p. 379; " 
 
 rigantts, people of Yorkshire. 
 
RURAL POETRY. DYER. 
 
 Th' important truth is stamped on every bale ; 
 Eacli glossy cloth, and drape of mantle warm, 
 Receives th' impression ; every airy woof, 
 Cheyney, and baize, and serge, and alepine. 
 Tammy, and crape, and the long countless list 
 Of woollen webs ; and every work of steel ; 
 And that crystalline metal, blown or fused. 
 Limpid as water dropping from the clefts 
 Of mossy marble : not to name the aids 
 Their wit has given the fleece, now taught to link 
 With flax, or cotton, or the silk-worm's thread. 
 And gain the graces of variety ; 
 Whether to form the matron's decent robe. 
 Or the thin-shading trail for Agra's ' nymphs ; 
 Or solemn curtains, whose long gloomy folds 
 Surround the soft pavilions of the rich. 
 
 THE AftRAS ; BLENHEIM TAPESTRIES RAMILLIES, ARLEUS. 
 
 They, too, the many-colored Arras taught 
 To mimic nature, and the airy shapes 
 Of sportive fancy ; such as oft appear 
 In old mosaic pavements, when the plough 
 Upturns the crumbling glebe of Weldon field, 
 Or that o'ershaded erst by Woodstock's bower. 
 Now graced by Blenheim, in whose stately rooms 
 Rise glowing tapestries that lure the eye 
 With Marlborough's wars : here Schellenberg exults 
 Behind surrounding hills of ramparts steep, 
 And vales of trenches dark ; each hideous pass 
 Armies defend ; yet on the hero leads 
 His Britons, like a torrent, o'er the mounds. 
 Another scene is Blenheim's glorious field. 
 And the red Danube. Here, the rescued states 
 Crowding beneath his shield ; there, Ramillios' 
 Important battle : next the ten-fold chain 
 Of Arleux burst, and the adamantine gates 
 Of Gaul flung open to the tyrant's throne. 
 A shade obscures the rest — Ah ! then, what power 
 Invidious from the lifted sickle snatched 
 The harvest of the plain ? So lively glows 
 The fair delusion, that our passions rise 
 In the beholding, and the glories share 
 Of visionary battle. 
 
 mSTORT OF THE ART , VARIOUS CHEF-D'(EUVRES OF DIFFEB- 
 
 This bright art 
 Did zealous Europe learn of pagan hands, 
 While she assayed, with rage of holy war. 
 To desolate their fields : but old the skill ; 
 Long were the Phrygians' picturing looms renowned ; 
 Tyre also, wealthy seat of arts, excelled, 
 And elder Sidon, in th' historic web. 
 
 Far -distant Tibet in her gloomy woods 
 Rears the gay tent, of blended wool unwoven, 
 And glutinous materials : the Chinese 
 
 ■ There is woven at Manchester, for the East Indies 
 very thin stuff, of thread and cotton, whicli is cooler th'a 
 the manufactures of that country, where the material is onl 
 
 Their porcelain, Japan its varnish boasts. 
 
 Some fair peculiar graces every realm. 
 
 And each from each a share of wealth acquires. 
 
 NATIONAL WEALTH FROM NUMBERS } IMMIGRATION J HOSPI- 
 TALITY A SOCRCE OF NATIONAL POWER. 
 
 But chief by numbers of industrious hands 
 A nation's wealth is counted : numbers raise 
 Warm emulation : where that virtue dwells 
 There will be Traffic's seat ; there will she build 
 Her rich emporium. Hence, ye happy swains ! 
 With hospitality inflame your breast. 
 And emulation : the whole world receive, 
 And with their arts, their virtues, deck your isle. 
 
 EMPLOYMENTS FOR ALIENS ; DRAINAGE, CANALS, NAVIGATION, 
 FISHERIES.— BELGIUM. 
 
 Each clime, each sea, the spacious orb of each, 
 Shall join their various stores, and amply feed 
 The mighty brotherhood ; while ye proceed. 
 Active and enterprising, or to teach 
 The stream a naval course, or till the wild. 
 Or drain the fen, or stretch the long canal. 
 Or plough the fertile billows of the deep : 
 Why to the narrow circle of our coast 
 Should we submit our limits, while each wind 
 Assists the stream and sail, and the wide main 
 Woos us in every port ? See Belgium build 
 Upon the foodful brine her envied power, 
 And, half her people floating on the wave, 
 Expand her fishy regions : thus our isle. 
 
 Thus only may Britannia be enlarged. 
 
 But whither, by the visions of the theme 
 Smit with sublime delight, but whither strays 
 The raptured Muse, forgetful of her task ? 
 
 MANDFACTCRING mOHWATS AND BYWAYS OF COMMERCE IN 
 BRITAIN ; WATLISG-STREET ; THE TYNE, TEES, WEAEE, 
 LONE, SWALE, AIRE, KEN, WICK, DART, EXE, TOWY, CSK. 
 
 No common pleasure warms the generous mind 
 When it beholds the labors of the loom : 
 How widely round the globe they are dispersed. 
 From little tenements by wood or croft. 
 Through many a slender path, how sedulous. 
 As rills to rivers broad, they speed their way 
 To public roads, to Fosse, or Watling-street, 
 Or Armine, ancient works ; and thence explore. 
 Through every navigable wave, the sea [Tees, 
 
 That laps the green earth round : through Tyne and 
 Through Weare and Lune, and merchandising Hull, 
 And Swale, and Aire, whose crystal waves reflect 
 The various colors of the tinctured web ; 
 Through Ken, swift rolling down his rocky dale. 
 Like giddy youth impetuous, then at Wick 
 Curbing his train, and with the sober pace 
 Of cautious eld meandering to the deep ; [wave 
 Through Dart and sullen Exe, whose murmuring 
 Envies the Dune and Rother, who have won 
 The serge and kersie to their blanching streams ; 
 Through Towy, winding under Merlin's towers, 
 And Usk, that frequent, among hoary rocks. 
 On her deep waters paints the impending scene. 
 Wild torrents, erags, and woods, and mountain 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 509 
 
 SAT BRITAIN; SMALL PONIES OF X. 
 SKKR AT THK LANGUKDOC CANAL. 
 
 The northern Cambrians, an industrious tribo, 
 Carry their labors on pigmean steeds, 
 Of size exceeding not Leicestrian sheep, 
 Yet strong and sprightly : over hill and dalo 
 They travel unfatiguod, and lay their bales 
 In Salop's streets, beneath whoso lofty walls 
 Pearly Sabrina waits theiu with her barks. 
 And spreads the swelling sheet. For nowhere far 
 From some transparent river's naval course 
 Arise and fall our various hills and vales. 
 Nowhere far distant from the masted wharf. 
 We need not vc.^ the strong laborious hand 
 With toil enormous, as th' Egyptian king. 
 Who joined the sable waters of the Nile 
 From Memphis' towers to the Erythra;an gulf ; 
 Or as the monarch of enfeebled Gaul, 
 Whose will imperious forced an hundred streams 
 Through many a forest, many a spacious wild, 
 To stretch their scanty trains from sea to sea. 
 That some unprofitable skiff might float 
 Across irriguous dales and hollowed rocks. 
 
 ; TRENT, SEVERN, AND TnAMES, 
 
 Far easier pains may swell our gentler floods. 
 And through the centre of the isle conduct 
 To naval union. Trent and Severn's wave. 
 By plains alono disparted, woo to join 
 Majestic Thamis. With their silver urns 
 The nimble-footed Naiads of the springs 
 Await, upon the dewy lawu, to speed 
 
 And celebrate the union ; and the light [side, 
 
 Wood-nymphs, and those who o'er the grots pro- 
 Whose stores bituminous, with sparkling lires, 
 In summer's tedious absence, cheer the swains. 
 Long sitting at the loom ; and those besides. 
 Who crown with yellow sheaves the former's hopes, 
 And all the genii of commercial toil : 
 These on the dewy lawns await to speed 
 And celebrate the union, that the fleece 
 And glossy web to every port around 
 May lightly glide along. 
 
 RITKR NAVIOATION ; LONDON TUB WORLD'S MART FOR TUE 
 
 Even now behold 
 Adown a thousand floods the burdened bark.''. 
 With white sails glistening, through the gloomy 
 
 Haste to their harbors. See the silver maze 
 Of stately Thamis, ever checkered o'er 
 With tlceply-laden barges, gliding smooth 
 And constant as his stream : in growing pomp, 
 By Neptune still attended, slow he rolls 
 To great Augusta's mart, where lofty Trade, 
 Amid a thousand gulden spires enthroned. 
 Gives audience to the world ; the strand around 
 Close swarms with busy crowds of many a realm. 
 What bales, what wealth, what industry, what 
 
 flcota ! 
 Lo, from the simple fleece how much proceeds ! 
 
ural §^t aiil) J^^'^^^P^i'^i^ ^"^^ ^tkuarr 
 
 GREENE'S "SHEPHERD AND HIS WIFE.' 
 It was near a thicky shade, 
 That broad leaves of beech had made, 
 Joining all their tops so nigh, 
 That scarce Phoebus in could pry ; 
 Where sat the swain and his wife, 
 Sporting in that pleasing life. 
 That Corydon commendeth so, 
 All other lives to over-go. 
 He and she did sit and keep 
 Flocks of kids and flocks of sheep : 
 He upon his pipe did play. 
 She tuned voice unto his lay. 
 And for you might her housewife know. 
 Voice did sing and fingers sew. 
 He was young, his coat was green. 
 With welts of white seamed between. 
 Turned over with a flap. 
 That breast and bosom in did wrap, 
 Skirts side and plighted free. 
 Seemly hanging to his knee, 
 A whittle with a silver chape ; 
 Cloak was russet, and the cape 
 Served for a bonnet oft. 
 To shroud him from the wet aloft : 
 A leather scrip of color red, 
 With a button on the head ; 
 A bottle full of country whig, 
 By the shepherd's side did lig ; 
 And in a little bush hard by. 
 There the shepherd's dog did lie, 
 Who, while his master 'gan to sleep. 
 Well could watch both kids and sheep. 
 The shepherd was a frolic swain. 
 For though his 'parel was but plain. 
 Yet doon the authors soothly say, 
 His color was both fresh and gay ; 
 And in their writs plainly discuss, 
 Fairer was not Tityrus, 
 Nor Menalcas, whom they call 
 The alderleefest swain of all ! 
 Seeming him was his wife, 
 Both in line and in life. 
 Fair she was, as fair might be. 
 Like the roses on the tree ; 
 Buxom, blithe, and yuung, I ween, 
 Beauteous, like a summer's queen ; 
 For her cheeks wore ruddy hued. 
 As if lilies were imbued 
 With drops of bloud, to make the white 
 Please the eye with more delight. 
 Love did lie within her oyea. 
 
 In ambush for some wanton prize ; 
 A leefer lass than this had been, 
 Corydon had never seen. 
 Nor was Phillis, that fair May, 
 Half so gaudy or so gay. 
 She wore a chaplet on her head ; 
 Her cassock was of scarlet red. 
 Long and large, as straight as bent ; 
 Her middle was both small and gent. 
 A neck as white as whales' bone, 
 Compact with a lace of stone ; 
 Fine she was, and fair she was. 
 Brighter than the brightest gloss ; 
 Such a shepherd's wife was she. 
 Was not more in Thessaly. 
 
 MILTON'S "GARDEN OF EDEN." 
 
 * * Eden, when delicious Paradise, 
 Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green. 
 As with a rural mound, the champaign head 
 Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides 
 With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild. 
 Access denied ; and overhead up-grew 
 Insuperable height of loftiest shade. 
 Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, 
 A sylvan scene, and, as the ranks ascend. 
 Shade above shade, a woody theatre 
 Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops 
 The verd'rous wall of Paradise up-sprung : 
 Which to our general sire gave prospect large 
 Into his nether empire neighb'ring round. 
 And higher than that wall a circling row 
 Of goodliest trees, Iciaden with fairest fruit. 
 Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue 
 Appeared, with gay enamelled colors mixed. 
 Of which the sun more glad impressed his beams 
 That in fair evening cloud, or humid bow, 
 When God hath showered the earth, so lovely seemed 
 That landscape ; and of pure, now purer air 
 I Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires 
 Vernal delight and joy, able to drive 
 All sadness but despair ; now gentle gales. 
 Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense 
 Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole 
 Those balmy spoils : as when to them who sail 
 Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past 
 Mosambic, off at sea north-west winds blow 
 Sabean odors from the spicy shore 
 Of Araby the blest ; with such delay [league. 
 
 Well pleased they slack their course, and many a 
 Cheered with the grateful smell, old Ocean smiles. 
 
^^dcustonc's '\^rl)oolinistrcss/' 
 
 THE "SOHOOLinSTRESS." 
 
 Ah, me ! full sorely is my heart forlorn, 
 
 To think how modest worth neglected lies ; 
 ■VVhilo partial fame doth with her blasts adorn 
 
 Such deeds alone as pride and pomp disguise ; 
 Deeds of ill sort and mischievous emprise ; 
 
 Lend mo thy clarion, goddess ! let me try 
 
 To sound the praise of merit ere it dies ; 
 
 Such as I oft have chanced to espy, 
 
 Lost in the dreary shades of dull obscurity. 
 
 In every village marked with little spire, 
 
 Embowered in trees, and hardly known to fame, 
 There dwells, in lowly shed and mean attire, 
 
 A matron old, whom we Schoolmistress name, 
 Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame ; 
 They grieven sore, in piteous durance pent, 
 Awed by the power of this relentless dame. 
 And ofttimcs, on vagaries idly bent, [shent. 
 For unkempt hair, or task unconned, are sorely 
 And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree. 
 
 Which Learning near her little dome didstowo, 
 AVhilom a twig of small regard to see. 
 
 Though now so wide its waving branches flow. 
 And work the simple vassals mickle woe ; 
 
 For not a wind might curl the leaves that blew, 
 But their limbs shuddered, and their pulse beat 
 low ; [grew, 
 
 And as they looked, they found their horror 
 And shaped it into rods, and tingled at the view. 
 So have I seen (who has not, may conceive) 
 A lifeless phantom near a garden placed ; 
 So doth it wanton birds of peace bereave. 
 Of sport, of song, of pleasure, of repast ; 
 They start, they stare, they wheel, they look 
 Sad servitude ! such comfortless annoy [aghast ; 
 May no bold Briton's riper age e'er tasto ! 
 Ne superstition clog his dance of joy, 
 No vision empty, vain, his native bliss destroy. 
 Near to this dome is found a patch so green, 
 
 On which the tribe their gambols do display ; 
 And at the door imprisoning-board is seen. 
 
 Lest weakly wights of smaller size should stray, 
 Eager, perdie, to bask in sunny day ! 
 
 The noises intermixed, which thence resound, 
 Do Learning's little tenement betray ; 
 
 Whore sits the dame, disguised in look profound. 
 
 And eyes her fairy throng, and turns her wheel 
 
 Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow, [around. 
 
 Emblem right meet, of decency does yield ; 
 Her apron, dyed in grain, is blue, I trowe, 
 As is the hare-bell that adorns the field ; 
 
 And in her hand, for sceptre, she docs wield 
 
 Tway birchen sprays, with anxious fears on- 
 twined. 
 With dark distrust, and sad repentance filled, 
 
 And steadfast hate, and sharp affliction j<iinod, 
 And fury uncontrolled, and chastisement unkind. 
 Few but have kon'd, in semblance meet portrayed. 
 
 The childish faces of old Eol's train ; 
 Libs, Notus, Austcr ; these in frowns arrayed. 
 
 How then would fare on earth, or sky, or main. 
 Were the stern god to give his slaves the rein ? 
 
 And were not she rebellious breasts to quell. 
 And were not she her statutes to maintain, 
 
 The cot no more, 1 ween, were deemed the coll, 
 Where comely peace of mind and decent order dwell. 
 A russet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown ; 
 
 A russet kirtle fenced the nipping air ; 
 'T was simple russet, but it was her own ; 
 
 'T was her own country bred the flock so fair ; 
 'T was her own labor did the fleece prepare ; 
 
 And, sooth to say, her pupils, ranged around, 
 Through pious awe did term it passing rare ; 
 
 For they in gaping wonderment abound. 
 And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight on 
 Albeit ne flattery did corrupt the truth, [ground! 
 
 Ne pompous title did debauch her car ; 
 Goody, good-woman, n'aunt, forsooth. 
 
 Or dame, the solo additions she did bear ; 
 Yet these she challenged, these she held right dear; 
 
 Ne would esteem him act as mought behove, 
 AVho should not honored eld with these revere ; 
 
 For never title yet so mean could prove. 
 But there was eke a mind that did that title love. 
 One ancient hen she took delight to feed. 
 
 The plodding pattern of the busy dame ; 
 Which, ever and anon, impelled by need, 
 
 Into her school, begirt with chickens, come ! 
 Such favor did her past deportment claim ; 
 
 And if neglect had lavished on the ground 
 Fragment of bread, she would collect the same. 
 
 For well she knew, and quaintly could expound. 
 
 What sin it were to waste the smallest crumb she 
 
 found. [speak. 
 
 Herbs, too, she knew, and well of each could 
 
 That in her garden sipped the silvery dew ; 
 Where no vain flower disclosed a gaudy streak ; 
 
 But herbs for use and physic not a few. 
 Of gray renown, within those borders grew ; 
 
 The tufted basil, pun-provoking thyme, 
 Fresh baum, and marygold of cheerful hue ; 
 
 The lowly gill, that never dares to climb ; 
 And more I fain would sing, disdaining here (o rhyme. 
 
512 
 
 RURAL POETRY. — SHENSTONB. 
 
 Yet euphrasy may not be left unsung, 
 
 That gives dim eyes to wander leagues around, 
 And pungent radish, biting infant's tongue ; 
 
 And plantain ribbed, that heals the reaper's 
 wound ; 
 And marjoram sweet, in shepherd's posy found ; 
 
 And lavender, whose spikes of azure bloom 
 Shall be erewhile in arid bundles bound. 
 
 To lurk amid the labors of her loom, [fume. 
 
 And crown her kerchiefs clean with mickle rare per- 
 
 And here trim rosemarine, that whilom crowned 
 
 The daintiest garden of the proudest peer, 
 Ere, driven from its envied site, it found 
 
 A sacred shelter for its branches here ; [pear. 
 Where edged with gold its glittering skirts ap- 
 
 0, wassail days ! 0, customs meet and well ! 
 Ere this was banished from its lofty sphere ; 
 
 Simplicity then sought this humble cell. 
 Nor ever would she more with thane and lordling 
 dwell. 
 Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eve. 
 
 Hymned such psalms as Sternhold forth did 
 mete : 
 If winter 't were, she to her hearth did cleave. 
 
 But in her garden found a summer seat ; 
 Sweet melody ! to hear her then repeat 
 
 How Israel's sons, beneath a foreign king. 
 While taunting foemen did a song entreat. 
 
 All for the nonce, untuning every string, 
 Uphung their useless lyres — small heart had they 
 
 For she was just, and friend to virtuous lore. 
 
 And passed much time in truly virtuous deed ; 
 And in those elfin ears would oft deplore 
 
 The times when Truth by Popish rage did bleed, 
 And torturous Death was true Devotion's meed ; 
 
 And simple Faith in iron chains did mourn, 
 That nould on wooden image place her creed ; 
 
 And lawny saints in smouldering flames did 
 burn ; [return ! 
 
 Ah, dearest Lord, forefend thilk days should o'er 
 In elbow-chair, like that of Scottish stem 
 
 By the sharp tooth of cankering eld defaced, 
 In which, when he receives his diadem. 
 
 Our sovereign prince and liefest liege is placed, 
 The matron sate, and some with rank she graced 
 
 (The source of children's and of courtier's 
 pride !), 
 Redressed affronts, for vile affronts there passed ; 
 
 And warned them not the fretful to deride. 
 But love each other dear, whatever them betide. 
 Right well she knew eaeh temper to descry ; 
 
 To thwart the proud, and the submiss to raise ; 
 Some with vile copper-prize exalt on high, 
 
 And some entice with pittance small of praise ; 
 And other some with baleful sprig she frays ; 
 
 E'en absent, she the reins of power doth hold, 
 While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she sways; 
 
 Forewarned if little bird their pranks behold, 
 Twill whisper in her car, and all the scene unfold. 
 
 Lo ! now with state she utters the command ; 
 
 Eftsoons the urchins to their tasks repair ; 
 Their books of stature small they take in hand. 
 
 Which with pellucid horn secured are. 
 To save from fingers wet the letters fair ; 
 
 The ^\iirl; .-o ^::iy. Hi;if on their back is seen, 
 St. Go.,,-, ■- !,1,.| I,i. vments doth declare ; 
 
 On ^vlii'li lliilk \\i-lit. that has y-gaziug been, 
 
 Kens the fulli, lin^ md — unpleasing sight, Iween! 
 
 Ah ! luckless he, and born beneath the beam 
 
 Of evil star ! it irks me while I write ; 
 As erst the bard by Mulla's silver stream. 
 
 Oft as he told of deadly, dolorous plight, 
 Sighed as he sung, and did in tears indite. 
 
 For, brandishing the rod, she doth begin 
 To loose the brogues, the stripling's late delight ! 
 
 And down they drop ; appears his dainty skin. 
 Fair as the furry coat of whitest ermilin. 
 
 0, ruthful scene ! when, from a nook obscure. 
 
 His little sistfr.lnil, l,i,- pviil >l-c ; 
 All playful !Ui f\ir miIiv -Ih' -imu,- .lumurc ; 
 
 Shel 
 
 full 
 
 She meditates a player to ttt him free ; 
 
 Nor gentle pardon could this dame deny 
 (If gentle pardon could with dames agree) 
 
 To her sad grief, which swells in either eye, 
 And wrings her so that all for pity she could die. 
 No longer can she now her shrieks command, 
 
 And hardly she forbears, through awful fear. 
 To rushen forth, and, with presumptuous hand, 
 
 To stay harsh Justice in his mid-career. 
 On thee she calls, on thee, her parent dear 
 
 (Ah ! too remote to ward the shameful blow!); 
 She sees no kind domestic visage near. 
 
 And soon a flood of tears begins to flow, 
 And gives a loose at last to unavailing woe. 
 
 But, ah ! what pen his piteous plight may trace ? 
 
 Or what device his loud laments explain ? 
 The form uncouth of his disguised face ? 
 
 The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain ? 
 The plenteous shower that does his cheek distain ? 
 
 When he in abject wise implores the dame, 
 Ne hopeth aught of sweet reprieve to gain ; 
 
 Or when from high she levels well her aim. 
 And through the thatch his cries each falling stroke 
 proclaim. 
 The other tribe, aghast, with sore dismay. 
 
 Attend, and con their tasks with mickle care ; 
 By turns, astonied, every twig survey. 
 
 And from their fellow's hateful wounds beware. 
 Knowing, I wis, how each the same may share ; 
 
 Till fear has taught them a performance meet, 
 And to the well-known chest the dame repair. 
 
 Whence oft with sugared cates she doth them 
 
 And gingerbread y-rare ; now, certes, doubly sweet. 
 See to their seats they hie with merry glee, 
 
 And in beseemly order sitten there ; 
 All but the wight of flesh y-galled ; he [chair 
 Abhorreth bench, and stool, and fourm, and 
 
WINTER — FEBRUARY. 
 
 513 
 
 (This hand in mouth y-fixod, that romls his hair) ; 
 
 And oko with snubs profound, and heaving 
 Convulsions intermitting, doth declare [breast, 
 
 His grievous wrong, his dame's unjust behest ; 
 And scorns her ofTored love, and shuns tu bo caressed. 
 Uis face besprent with liquid crystal shines. 
 
 His blooming face, that seems a purple flower, 
 AVhich low to earth it^ drooping head declines, 
 
 All smeared ond sullied by a vernal shower. 
 0, the hard bosoms of despotic Power ! 
 
 All, all but she, the author of his shame, 
 All, all but she, regret this mournful hour ; 
 
 Yet hence the youth, and hence the flower, shall 
 
 If so I deem aright, transcending worth and fame. 
 But now Dan Phtcbus gains the middle sky, 
 
 And liberty unbars her prison door ; 
 And like o rushing torrent out they fly ; 
 
 And now the grossy cirque han covered o'er 
 With boisterous revel rout and wild uproar ; 
 
 A thousand ways in wanton rings they run. 
 Heaven shield their short-lived pastimes, I im- 
 
 Forwell mayfreodom,erst so dearly won, [plorej 
 Appear to British elf more gladsome than the sun. 
 Enjoy, poor imps ! enjoy your sportive trade, 
 
 And chase gay flies, and cull the fairest flowers; 
 For when my bones in grass-green sods are laid, 
 
 0, never m.ay ye ta^te more careless hours 
 In knightly castle or in ladies' bowers. 
 
 0, vain to seek delight in earthly thing ! 
 But most in courts, where proud ambition towers; 
 
 Deluded wight! who weens fair peace can spring 
 Beneath the pompous dome of kcsar or of king. 
 See in each sprite some various bent appear ! 
 
 These rudely carol most incondite lay ; 
 Those, sauntering on the green with jocund leer, 
 
 Salute the stranger passing on bis way ; 
 
 Some builden fragile tenements of clay ; 
 
 Some to the standing lake their courses bend, 
 With pebbles smooth at duck and drake to play ; 
 
 Thilk to the huckster's savory cottage tend. 
 In pastry kings and queens the allotted mite to spend. 
 Here as each season yields a diflTorcnt store. 
 
 Each season's stores in order ranged been ; 
 Apples with cabbage-net y-covercd o'er. 
 
 Galling full sore the unmonoyod wight, ore seen, 
 And goosebrie clad in livery red or green ; 
 
 And hero, of lovely dye, the Catharine pear, 
 Fine pear, as lovely for thy juice, I ween ; 
 
 0, may no wight o'er penniless come there, 
 Lest, smit with ardent love, he pine with hopeless 
 
 See, cherries hero, ere cherries yet abound, 
 
 With threaxl so white in tempting posies tied, 
 Scattering, like blooming maid, their glanoes 
 
 With pampered look draw little eyes aside — 
 And must bo bought, though penury betide ; 
 
 The plum all azure, and the nut all brown ; 
 And hero each season do those cakes abide. 
 Whose honored names' the inventive city own. 
 Rendering through Britain's isle Salopia's « praises 
 known. 
 Admired Salopia ! that in venial pride 
 
 Eyes her bright form in Severn's ambient wave. 
 Famed for her loyal cares in perils tried. 
 
 Her daughters lovely, and her striplings brave : 
 Ah ! midst the rest, may flowers adorn his grave 
 
 AVhose art did flrst these dulcet cates display. 
 A motive fair to Learning's imps he gave, 
 Who cheerless o'er her darkling region stray ; 
 Till Reason's morn arise, and light them on their 
 way. 
 
 ' Shrewsbury ( 
 
 • S.ilopia, Shrewsbury. 
 
 
gallah 
 
 for ^[fdruaiM). 
 
 LONGFELLOW'S "VILLAGE BLACKSmT^.' 
 
 Under a spreading chestnut-tree 
 
 The village smithy stands ; 
 The smith, a mighty man is he, 
 
 With large and sinewy hands ; 
 And the muscles of his brawny anna 
 
 Are strong as iron bands. 
 His hair is crisp, and black, and long, 
 
 His face is like the tan ; 
 His brow is wet with honest sweat, 
 
 He earns whate'er he can, 
 And looks the whole world in the face. 
 
 For he owes not any man. 
 Week in, week out, from morn till night, 
 
 You can hear his bellows blow ; 
 You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, 
 
 With measured heat and slow. 
 Like a sexton ringing the village bell, 
 
 AYhen the evening sun is low. 
 And children coming home from school 
 
 Look in at the open door ; 
 They love to see the flaming forge, 
 
 And hear the bellows roar, 
 And catch the burning sparks that fly 
 
 Like chaff from a threshing floor. 
 He goes on Sunday to the church. 
 
 And sits among his boys ; 
 He hears the parson pray and preach, 
 
 He hears his daughter's voice 
 Singing in the village choir, 
 
 And it makes his heart rejoice. 
 
 It sounds to him like her mother's voice, 
 
 Singing in paradise I 
 He needs must think of her once more. 
 
 How in the grave she lies ; 
 And, with his hard, rough hand, he wipes 
 
 A tear out of his eyes. 
 Thus toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing. 
 
 Onward through life he goes ; 
 Each morning sees some task begun. 
 
 Each evening sees it close ; 
 Something attempted, something done, 
 
 Has earned a night's repose. 
 Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, 
 
 For the lesson thou hast taught ! 
 Thus at the flaming forge of life 
 
 Our fortunes must be wrought ; 
 Thus on its sounding anvil shaped 
 
 Each burning deed and thought. 
 
 MY FATHER. 
 
 Mv good father died at the age of four score, [o'er; 
 Snow-white were the locks which his head silvered 
 His age as the Winter passed lusty away, [day. 
 
 'T was frosty, but kind ; bright, though cold was the 
 For ne'er in his youth had he rashly applied 
 Hot liquors to quicken his blood's even tide ; 
 Nor, with forehead unbashful, had wooed, to his 
 The means that debilitate man's lusty frame, [shame, 
 His temper was mild as the sun's setting beam. 
 When it plays on the top of some soft-flowing stream: 
 Religion to him was the balm of his mind ; 
 To his Maker's good will he was ever resigned. 
 With a numerous offspring encircled around, 
 At length, like a shock of ripe corn, to the ground 
 He came, an example to all who survive, — 
 Who, to die such a death, such a life must they live. 
 
 CoiuluMiig iijinit of |)raisi\ 
 
 THOMSON'S "HYMN OF THE SEASONS.' 
 
 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 softening 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 through 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 unconfined. 
 And spreads a common feast for all that lives. 
 In Winter awful Thou ! with clouds and storms 
 Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest rolled. 
 Majestic darkness ! on the whirlwind's wing 
 Riding sublime, Thou bidd'st the world adore. 
 And humblest Nature with thy northern blast. 
 
WINTER FEBRUARY. 
 
 615 
 
 Mysterious round ! what skill, what force diviuo, 
 Doop fult, in those appear ! a simple train, 
 Yet so delightful mixed, with such kind art, 
 Such beauty and benoficcnoe combined. 
 Shade, unpercoivod, so softening into shade. 
 And all so forming an harmonious whole. 
 That, as they still succeed, they ravish still. 
 But wandering oft, with brute unconscious gaze, 
 Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty hand 
 That, over-busy, wheels the silent spheres ; 
 Works in the secret deep ; shoots, steaming, thence 
 The fair profusion that o'orspreads 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 tho spacious temple of the sky, 
 In adoratiou join ; and, ardent, raise 
 One general song ! To Him, ye vocal gales. 
 Breathe soft, whoso Spirit in your freshness breathes : 
 0, 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 shake the astonished world, lift high to heaven 
 The impetuous song, and say from Whom you rage. 
 His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills ; 
 And let mo catch it as I muse along. 
 Y'e headlong torrents, rapid and profound, — 
 Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze 
 Along the vale, — and thou, majestic main, 
 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 incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers, 
 In mingled clouds to Him ; whoso sun exalts. 
 Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints. 
 Ye forests, bend, ye harvests, wave to Him ; 
 Breathe your still song into tho reaper's heart. 
 As home ho goes beneath the joyous moon. 
 Ye that keep wotch in heaven, as earth asleep 
 Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams. 
 Ye constellations, while your angels strike. 
 Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. 
 Great source of day ! best imago here below 
 Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide. 
 From world to world, the vital ocean round, 
 On Nature write with every beam His praise. 
 
 Tho thunder rolls : he bushed tho prostrate world ; 
 
 While cloud to cloud returns tho solemn hymn. 
 
 Bloat out afresh, ye hills : yo mossy rocks. 
 
 Retain the sound : tho brood responsive low. 
 
 Ye valleys, raise ; for tho Great Shepherd reigns. 
 
 And his unsufifering kingdom yet will come. 
 
 \'o woodlands all, awake : a boundless song 
 
 Burst from tho groves ! and when the restless day. 
 
 Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep. 
 
 Sweetest of birds, sweet Philomela, charm 
 
 The listening shades, and teach the night His praise. 
 
 Y''e chief, for whom tho whole creation smiles. 
 
 At once the head, tho heart, and tongue of all, 
 
 Crown the great hymn ! In swarming cities vast, 
 
 Assembled men, to tho deep organ join 
 
 The long-resounding voice, oft breaking clear. 
 
 At solemn pauses, through tho s>velling base ; 
 
 And, as each mingling flame increases each. 
 
 In one united ardor rise to heaven. 
 
 Or if you rather choose tho rural shade. 
 
 And find a fane in every sacred grovo ; 
 
 There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay, 
 
 Tho prompting soraph, 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 rises in tho blackening 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 the Atlantic isles ; 't is naught to mo : 
 Since God is ever present, ever felt. 
 In the void waste as in the city full ; 
 And where Ho vital breathes there must be joy. 
 When e'en at last the solemn hour shall come. 
 And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, 
 I cheerful will obey ; there, with new powers. 
 Will rising wonders sing : I cannot go 
 Whore Universal Love not smiles around. 
 Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns ; 
 From seeming Evil still educing Good, 
 And better thence again, and bettor still. 
 In infinite progression. But I lose 
 Myself in Him, in Light Inefiable ! 
 Como, then, expressive Silence, muse His praise. 
 
(lM s s ;i vij 
 
 OF UNUSUAL WORDS. CHIEFLY SCOTCn. 
 
 } also GlMsarics pp. 186, 330, 388.] 
 
 Altlis, oaths. 
 Agec, awry. 
 
 Auld, old. 
 A-wlll, wiltul. 
 
 Ay, always. 
 
 or th. ^ . 
 Bannock, ' ' ' 
 
 Barlickhoo-i, tit rif itl- 
 Bassand, wliitc-faced, 
 Bauch. 
 
 Busk, dress, prepare. 
 
 Busline, fustian, clotll. 
 
 Butt, odd angle. 
 
 By, for it, besides, when, without. 
 
 By-and-attour, moreover. 
 
 Byre, cow-house. 
 
 Cadgy, wanton, cheerlUl. 
 
 Cankered, cross. 
 
 Canlraips, spells, charms. 
 
 Canty, lively. 
 
 Car, sledge, left. 
 
 Carle, man, churl. 
 
 Caul, cool, 
 
 Cauldr'ife, causing cold, indifferent. 
 Cawfs, calves. 
 
 Cliie 
 
 nrp, I 
 
 Fashes, trouble. 
 
 Faulds, folds. 
 
 Fayned, to make shin ; tempted. 
 
 Fechting, lighting. 
 
 Feckless, feeble. 
 
 f eg, flg. 
 
 Fell, keen, hot ; rock ; to befall. 
 
 Ferly, wonder. 
 
 Flaw, lie. 
 
 Fleech, (lelch, flatter. 
 
 Fleeching, flirtation, Oatlery. 
 
 Fleid, flayed. 
 
 Flet, scolded ; a home, residence. 
 
 Flyte, go off, go away. 
 
 Flitting, about to depart, going. 
 
 Fou, full. 
 
 Fouth, abundance. 
 
 Fowk, I 
 
 1, unpleasant to taste. 
 „,.„.„, bold. 
 Bawk, roof, cross-beam, unplowed ridge, 
 Bawsint, white-faced. 
 Be, by, towards, by that time. 
 Bedeen, quickly. 
 Bc'kin-. bn^kinir. 
 
 
 Billy, comrade, c 
 Birks, birches. 
 Birky, lively fell. 
 Birns, burdens. 
 Bites, sharpers. 
 
 Frae, from. 
 
 , cajoling 
 
 Blate, sheepish, bashM. 
 Bleezing, blazing. 
 Blob, globule, drop. 
 Ili<bliit, scoffed, danced. 
 
 llnmli:«.cil, stupefied. 
 
 Bouk, trunk of the body. 
 Board, jest. 
 
 Bow, herd, fold for cows. 
 Braes, hill-sides. 
 Brankan, gay. 
 Brattling, clattering. 
 Braw, line, gayly-dresscd. 
 Breckens, breaches. 
 Bris'd, pressed. 
 Briz, bruise. 
 Brock, fragments. 
 Brue, broth. 
 Bught, pen, fold. 
 Burn, stream. 
 Burnie, rivulet, rill. 
 
 es, crows, ravens. 
 Crack, chat, gossip, boast 
 Criiigy, craggy. 
 Crummock, cow with a 
 
 Cry, call. 
 
 Cunzie, coin (?). 
 
 Curn, kernel. 
 
 Cut and dry, tobacco for smokmg. 
 
 Dead, death. 
 Dei'l, devil. 
 Diced, sewed. 
 Divot, turf, sod. 
 Dit, stop. 
 Doill, confused. 
 Doof, stupid. 
 Dool, dule, grief, sorrow. 
 Dorty, pettish, saucy. 
 Dosens, stiliwfles. 
 Dowie, melancholy, sad. 
 Downa, cannot. 
 Drowth, drought. 
 Buddy, ragged. 
 Dyvour, debtor. 
 Ee, eye, een, eyes. 
 Bild, eld,oldage. 
 
 Bithly, easily. ,. . , , „, , ., 
 
 BIfshot, cramp, shot by fairies, flint ar- 
 
 rowhead, disease sent by evil spirits. 
 
 Elwand.sUff, yardstick, 45 Inches, o: 
 
 Inches, which Is the Scotch yard. 
 Ergh, Irk, dislike. 
 Etlle, attempt, aim at. 
 Even, equal, bring down to a lerel « 
 Eync, eyes. 
 
 Oaw, a Ball-nut ; furrow for drainage ; 
 
 a holU.w with water. 
 Oaws, galls, iK'comes pettish. 
 Gear, wealth, gomis, possessions. 
 Geek, mock, deride ; jilt i loss the head 
 
 Oies, gives. 
 
 Oif, if. 
 
 Giglet, giddy girl. 
 
 aiming, grinning. 
 
 Gloaming, twilight. 
 
 Olowring, staring menacingly. 
 
 Gowans, daisies. 
 
 Gowd, gold. 
 
 Gowk, fool. 
 
 Graitli, furniture, gear. 
 
 Qranes, groans. 
 
 Qree, agree -, dye •, live In amity. 
 
 Greet, weep. 
 
 Grien, long for. 
 
 Gyte, flood. 
 
 Haffel, side of hcail, the temples. 
 Ilagabag, huckabuck, coarse towelling, 
 
 or bagging. 
 Haggles, haggis, a dish commonly made 
 
 in a sheep's maw, of the lungs, hcMl, 
 
 pepper, and salt, 
 of ottt-meal, with 
 last articles, without meal. In 
 England it Is a sausage. 
 Hag-raid, harried, hag-ridden. 
 Hainder, last, 
 llairsi, harvesl-llmc. 
 Hald, homestead. 
 Halow, a saint. 
 Haly, wimlly i holy i iwrfecl. 
 
 Falds, folds. 
 
518 
 
 Hawkie, hawkey, cow 
 face, or white spot 
 
 Hechts, calls 
 commands. 
 
 How, a hoe ; hood ; garland. 
 
 Howdy, midwife. 
 
 Howm, holm, wooded islet. 
 
 Ilk, appellation. 
 
 Illia, evei'y. 
 
 In, in town, in the city of Edinburgh. 
 
 Ither, other. 
 
 - -J, abused. 
 Mony, many. 
 Mools, mould, earth. 
 Motty, full of motes. 
 Mows, heaps ; mouths. 
 Nae, no. 
 
 :t. 
 
 - , .ow that has newly cal ed 
 
 Nieves, hands, fists. 
 naught. 
 
 Nowt, black cattle. 
 Ony, any. 
 Or, ere, before. 
 Orp, fret. 
 Owk, week(»). 
 
 ISlid, smooth, glib. 
 Smoored, smothered. 
 Snood, lillet, headband. 
 Soniy lucky l>) easy (?). 
 ho na obtrud Dg on bed and board : 
 sponger sojourn. 
 
 tede fa m-house and offices ; 
 Steek the gab stay the speech, stop 
 
 it eked, stitched, fixed. 
 
 Kirk, 
 
 Kirned, churned. 
 
 Kitted, caught, snared as with bird 
 
 Kittle, enlivening ; tittlish. 
 
 Knowe, knoll, hillock. 
 
 Kye, kine. 
 
 Laird, proprietor. 
 
 Lane, alone, in private. 
 
 Lap, leaped. 
 
 Lave, the rest, others. 
 
 Lav'rock, lark. 
 
 Lee, lonely. 
 
 Leel, leal, loyal. 
 
 Leglens, milk-pails. 
 Leugh, laughed. 
 Lift, sky. 
 
 Lightlies, makes light of. 
 Lilt, sing cheerfully. 
 Lin, fall, waterfall. 
 Linliing, tripping. 
 
 loaning, open yard, or wide 
 ., -', near the farm-house. 
 
 Loofs, praises (?), 
 
 Loss, praise (Latin, laus). 
 
 Loundering, pounding. 
 
 Lout, bow, obeisance. 
 
 Low, blaze. 
 
 Lowan, burning, blazing. 
 
 Lowp, leap. 
 
 Luckie, lucky, granny. 
 
 Lug, ear. 
 
 Luggies, vessels, luggers. 
 
 Lyart, gray. 
 
 Mail 
 
 "urted ; reckoned ; 
 
 iiittmg down over. 
 
 Ut' 
 
 Meikle, II 
 Merle, M: 
 JliddinL'. 
 
 I, dunghill. 
 
(L omul etc ii liber, 
 
 ABDomSTMra, his story loW, 170, 171 ; garden, alUir, 
 pniyiT, 171 i crowned by Alexander and the people, 173. 
 
 AlxTk'inniy, a town upon the Towy river, in the south part 
 or Wiiles, 77. 
 
 AWrtta, fiiniily, 319. 
 
 Ahnir mid Widow .lones : a ballad, by Bloomndd, 71—73. 
 
 At>.Nlt.-s i.f .|ui.t jiii.l (.'''iianri-, T') ; -'f vicious poverty, 70, 
 
 Absmlr- i 1 ' 
 AlMtin. i. 
 
 """-'"' 
 
 .."niged;434, «6. 
 ,.l,.iY-, 413,414. 
 
 
 
 
 
 ui:i,.\;ipl>.s. 
 
 subject to river inunda- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Kiiii: "f Phlli!ol!s,Thessaly, Greece, 
 
 
 
 ■'tv of the chief heroes 
 
 of the Trojan W:.r ; 
 
 
 
 t„r,theTr,.janh.,. 
 
 
 , i..,dyatthetailof 
 
 hisclmriot. }li».i 
 
 
 
 based the action.. 1 1 
 
 
 itlio taking of Troy. 
 
 Activity, pernetuiil n. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Addison's imilati..!! 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 He distinRuislie.! luu 
 
 ,i-;i ,11 IK1..1. 
 
 •.•'''''. •';i.ei'°i'?.'?; 
 
 Eijislk- to Lord Halifax. This 
 diemed the most elegant and animated of his poetical pro- 
 ductions, specimens of which are seen at pp. 78, 134. His 
 greatest distinction, however, is as an essayist, though he 
 married ' discord in a noble wife,* the Countess Dowager 
 of Warwicli, 1716, and in 1717 was appointed Secretary 
 of State. He wrote essays in the Tatier, Spectator, and 
 Guardian ; and, in 1713, the tragedy of Calo, which was 
 brought on the stage with * unexampled success.' 
 
 Adieu to the country, 31. 
 
 Adultery, 80. 
 
 Advent, Christ's Second, signs of, 484. 
 
 Advice of a good West India planter to his son, 423. 
 
 iBgeria and Dolon, an episode, 276, 277. 
 
 JEolia, a division of Asia Minor, on the west. 
 
 iEsccLArics, the classic god of medicine, son of Apollo -, 
 generally represented as leaning on a club, round which 
 is wound a serpent. He was one of the Argonauts, and 
 is also called Psean, or Pmon ; that is, * the physician.' 
 
 Africa, its natural features, 285 } sands, serpents, whirl- 
 winds, wild beasts, 285, 286 : genius of Africa apostro- 
 phized, 435. 
 
 African, the, at home, 437. 
 
 After a Tempest : an ode, by Bryant, 205. 
 
 Afternoon, of summer, 148. 
 
 AiiAMKMSus, King of the Greeks, 86-, called Atrides, as being 
 the son iif Atrcus ) — his good cheer, 96. He was brother 
 of Mcnelaus, and led the Greeks to the taking of Troy. 
 See Helen. 
 
 Aged oak, simile of, falling, 93. 
 
 Age, Golden, or of Gold, described, 6, 19 i iU music, 6 ; Sil- 
 ver age, 19 i Brazen, 19 ; Heroic, 19, 20 ; Iron, 20. 
 
 Age, the present contrasted with the Golden, 6. 
 
 Age, progress from youth to, 203, 204 -, fibres stiffen, 204 ; 
 — meditations of God's works a proper theme for, 360. 
 
 Ages, the four (or five) • " . - . .. 
 
 19, 20. See Age. 
 
 Agricultural plenty described, 309 ; — science, its 
 271 i — science commended to the wealthy, 58. 
 
 Agriculture, a poem in three cantos, by R. Dodsley, 55 — 70. 
 
 Agriculturist, retired, his quiet, hopeful life, 273. 
 
 Ague personified, 48. 
 
 AiKis, Jonx, M.D., chief author of Evenings at Home, ^d 
 other excellent books for children. He was brother to 
 Mrs. Barbauld. See Barbauld. 
 
 AiKi.N's Wish : an ode, 88. 
 
 Aim, the best, is use, 83. 
 
 esiod's account ( 
 
 1, 60. 
 
 Alcander and Ncrina, a story exemplifying reform in land- 
 scape gardening, 178 — 183 -, his pntcrnal estate, Gothic 
 mansion, farm-house, castellated farm-yard. Ice-house, 
 dairy in abbey-form, 178-, ocean frith, grotux, 178', 
 shipwreck, the rescued maiden, 178, 179 ; his unsucces^ 
 ful love, 179 ; bower of Flora, description of It, conserva- 
 tory and hot-house, 179 ; statue of Flora, 179, 180 ; story 
 of Ncrina, 180 ; poultry-yard, dove-cote, and aviary, 180 \ 
 visit of Cleon, the stranger, and his survey, 181 ■, Ncrina 
 swoons, and dies, 182 j explanation between Cleon and 
 Alcander, 182 ; soliloquy, time the soother, tomb, funeral 
 cell, angels, 183. 
 
 Aldrich, 382. 
 
 Alcoves, for West India gardens j granadiUas, water-lemon j 
 fountains, 440, 441. 
 
 Alehouse, the village, by Goldsmith, 37. 
 
 Alexander the Great and Alxlolonymus, of Sidon, 171. 
 
 Alienated Homestead : an ode, by T. B. Read, 416. 
 
 All ticsh is grass, 82. 
 
 Allegory, explaining the theory of vegetation, 58; — of 
 ,275,270. 
 
 Aim- 
 
 the, 
 
 Isaac Ashford, the noble 
 
 .\1; !. ^I.irea, which ran westward through 
 
 .' ^ I i:Us. It was thought to pass under 
 
 til. ■ 1. n, t ; . (u ii. light again in the copious fresb- 
 w.i-L.i I. 111.1,1111 u .Viutliusa, in the harbor of Syracuse, 
 wliii-h risi's in (lit- aiiU water,and, as the writer can testify, 
 
 Altar, Abdolonymus at the, 171 } his patriotic prayer. 
 
 AMiL™.Ea, the name of the goat that suckled Jupiter, 
 while the bees brought honey to his lips ; this milk ana 
 honey, corresponding to spiritual good and truth, became 
 the nectar and ambrosia (extracts of milk and honey) of 
 a later age, the food of the gods. In his play Jove broke 
 
 first a drinking-cup, became the horn of plenty, the cor- 
 nucopia, which Jove ails with blessings, especially through 
 agriculture. This goat and kids, Capella and lloedl, ar« 
 cimHli'llittions. See Anthon's Classical Dictionary, which 
 
 1, l.y Epicuriis, 94. 
 
 7 ; — village, its hopes ami fears, 
 
 ■ rural pleasures to the imtriotic 
 
 i.htning, 147. 
 
 liigos of the, 2W ; 
 
 America, tropical, 14.1 ; Orinoco, Amazon, Di Plata, 143. 
 
 American Revolution, the, 442. 
 
 Amethyst, 137. 
 
 Ammon's son, Alexander the Great. 
 
 Amomum, of the greenhouse, 85. 
 
 AMpniTRrrs, wife of Neptune, the classic god of the sea. 
 
 She was the daughter of Nereus, and mother of Triton. 
 Amphryslan shepherd, Apollo, who fed the flocks of King 
 
 Admetus, on the banks of tlie Amphrysus, in Thessaly. 
 Amply-flowing lines, proper In landscape gardening, 163. 
 
 37 ; —country, 264, 265 ;— rustic, 270. 
 
 Anacrron, the Greek poet, bom at Teos, Ionia, Asia Minor, 
 In the early part of the sixth century, B. C. He went to 
 Samos, and then to Athens, and was In favor with Poly- 
 crates of Samos, ami llipparchus of Athens. He was 
 choked to death by a grape-stone at the age of eighty-five. 
 
 AtlACRBON's Grasshopper, or screech-locust, 262. 
 
 Akacrron's Spring : translated from the Greek, by Thomu 
 
 ,102. 
 
520 
 
 Andrew Collet, tale of, 403. 
 
 Anemone, the wind-flower, marsh gentian, 8. 
 
 Anger, dissuaded from by Etiicnrus, 6-4; — its effects com- 
 pared with those of love, envy, fear, grief, rage, joy, 455 ; 
 to some a fit of anger useful, 455 ; remedies for, 455. 
 
 Angels, guardian, ori-,'!!! and employment of, according to 
 Hesinil, 10 ; — miniga>ring, 183. 
 
 Anrrlr'- ,- ,'.'' "l,> JI. \V. L..ngfellow, 205, 206. 
 Ai)L;ini 1 - i>y Dclille, 266-, angling, shoot- 
 
 in-, - . ^'i7 ; angling, by Pope, 293 ; — 
 
 r.-- i I '■ ■ !'■■ -x'Tcise, 337 ; Treat, Eden, 
 
 I ■ ! ■' ' 1 1 ' ■■ 1 . 7 ; — puided by instinct, 
 
 ; !■ -. :- . -■ <';ii.iinet; — necessary, 
 
 )r rp, cat; BuefoD'san- 
 
 i:>.iiMi,P ,. -imJ', 2S(5'287,2Ss'i — in' 
 Is hy Lucretius and Virgil, 2S7 ; be- 
 happinesa of, sympathy with, 479 ; 
 
 ; — praised by the poet ; why, 4S3. 
 15 i — of the village poor 
 
 ved 
 
 , 287 ; 
 
 See Par- 
 
 what right, 481, 482 ; 
 Annals of the parish, 3: 
 
 ish Register. 
 Anne, Queen, complimented by Pope, 292; — and peace, 
 
 294 ; — glories of her reign ( Pope), 294 ; — her reign, 3S9 ; 
 
 union of Scotland and England, 390. 
 Anointing, precepts as to, 339. 
 Ant^its, a giant king of Lybia, sonof N''|>inn.' ■ di- --i i :i),i| 
 
 Terra (earth), and famed for wrestliii-' ^i ! : 
 
 earth; hence Hercules conquered li; ; 
 
 
 ^' ' " iM,.i, -i ih I, .. .,i Elis, Greece, who, enticed 
 
 I :, !h. .1. Li .1., Aiilr.u-, iMtliL'd in it. The river-god 
 r<><- and i<iiisui.d li* r, and ^Ik' was changed by Plana into 
 a fountain ; but, resuming his shape as a stream, Alpheus 
 followed her under the sea to Sicily. See Alplieus. 
 
 U-gonauts, story of tlie, 498, 499 ; eflfects, 499. 
 
 Lrgyle, Duke of, eulogized, 306. 
 
 LiiiON, a famous puet and musician of Lesbos, about 628 
 B. C. The story is, that being at sea with great wealth, 
 the sailors thnnv him overboard to get it ; but a dolphin, 
 charmed by his harping, took him on his back, and lauded 
 
 LRisT.Ecs, son of Apollo and the nymph Cyrene, was born 
 in Cyrene, Lybia, Africa, and brought up by the seasons, 
 or nymph*;, wh<^ fed him nn nectar and ambrosia, and 
 thus rend..'1'd him imiiK-rtal. Si.*e Anthou's Classical Die- 
 love witiM' ; i iivbce, he pursued her, and 
 inherili-li , n i| -.. -'ipent, whose bite caused 
 
 uh--[iin'N ■!■ I. K-.. !, ■■ i. <l.--cciption of, and legend of 
 
 I II . >t<ii-y of, 233— 2313 ; homes 
 
 ' J I : ■:< \ contest of Arisueus and 
 
 - ^ I , I ; I iiis the rite, and produces 
 
 I .1 I !', , . I iin^nn nf a minister of Castle- 
 
 ■ -■'■ I'..' i. ■■ i; -iHn--3hire, Scotland. He is 
 
 .1 ■i(. >pIeiRtic. kind-hearted. 
 
 losophy, 152 ; — to reason, fancy, poetry, 151 ; — to Italy, 
 216;— to the God of Nature, 310; — to God the Re- 
 deemer, 484. 
 
 Apothecary, for the paupers, 257. 
 
 Appetites, sensual, to be restrained, 65. 
 
 Apple, British, 66 ; —its soil, culture, and use, 377—384 ; 
 choice varieties of, 381 ; pippin, moile, permain, ottley, 
 eliot, john-apple, harvey, thrift, codling, pomroy, russet, 
 cats-head, 381 ; musk-apple ; red-streak, best, 381, 382. 
 
 Apple-cheese, 385. 
 
 Apple-gathering, 385. 
 
 Apple-trees, culture of, 378 ; — mucking, circular trenching, 
 watering, 378 ; prunin-.', 383 ; — swine, wasps, snails, rot, 
 
 
 I one ol the Heraclidse. 
 
 , 52, 53 ; 
 
 ■Inny that founded Syr- 
 twenty-two miles in cir- 
 descendants of 
 
 -daughters of necessity, 209 } — 
 
 riot, equally wrong, 201. 
 in, belonging to Hesiod, the earliest writer of poet- 
 precepts on farming. He was a native of Ascra, a 
 .'t Bii'i'tia, (.itcece, :?ituatcd on a rocky summit of 
 
 i! II I III A- i.i,i:i i.u,ii-y hence means rural or 
 
 oe Praise, 
 ival of, 131. 
 , story of, 410, 411. See 
 
 morn,' a song (xix.), 123. 
 . universal history, the friend of 
 a sist^'r uf Alticus married his 
 
 IS approached, when 
 
 seen.' — BARTnOLDT. 
 
 Arcadian 
 
621 
 
 And shoving only the dismantled i 
 1 In), 
 
 I or the house Gold- 
 
 work, at least, of the DeserU'd ViUnge. 
 
 AuKUst : an ode, by Street, 262. 
 
 Auffusta, a poetical name Tor London, 4. 
 
 Augustus, Emperor or Rome (rrom 31 B. 0. to 14 A. D.), dei- 
 fied and lnvoke.1 by Virgil, 207 ; — a.lulation or, as a 
 Iieace-maker to the world. 213 -, — compliments and adu- 
 lation or, 221. 
 
 Aurengzebe, Mogul Emp. or India, going rorth to hunt, 361. 
 
 Auricula, 8. 
 
 Aurora Borcalis, 305, 307, 403. Sec Northern Lights. 
 
 Author or Nature, praise to, 28 ; — or the vcgclablo world, 
 praise to, ror its wonders, 91. 
 
 Author, the dull, a winter bore, 265. 
 
 Authors in retirement, 267 ; —honors to, 307, 263. 
 
 Author Hector, the, 415. 
 
 Aulocnit, llie, 470. 
 
 Autograiihs in Parish Register, 371, 372 ; plough and pen. 
 
 Autumn and Winter personified, 59 ; — rarmer's work in, 
 rains, 211 ; — sky or, 297 i rogs or, 304 ; soml)rc hues, 306 j 
 
 308 ; splendid autumnal day, SOS ; enjoyments or, 309 ; 
 
 close or, 334, 336 ; — in October, dreamy api>earance or, 
 
 366; — in the orchard, 335 ;— splendid dayor, 303',— 
 
 rruiu, 385. 
 Autumn : a poem, by James Thomson, 297, 310. 
 Autumn : a poem, by Blo<imHcld, 331—335. 
 Autumn : an ode, by H. W. Longreliow, 343. 
 Autumn Woods : an ode, by W. 0. Bryant, W3, 344. 
 Autumn : an o<le, by Thomas Hood, 376. 
 
 Ilvmii or the Husbandman ; by Jones, 368. 
 Nit'htrall : an ode, by H. W. Longreliow, 344. 
 Aviuanches, SwiM, 399. 
 Avarice, liow it curses a country, 35 ; —dissuaded rrom, 64. 
 Avaro, his mishap in the May-day riot, 93. 
 Avocnto pear, 421. 
 
 " or Naples,] 
 
 ' but a mile and a hair in cir- 
 - Ba'iai and Pozzuoli. It was connected 
 with Lake Lucrinus, and bock or it. Agrippa made it into 
 i port Julius, by 
 
 I and the Lucrine basin 
 
 Once it was gloomy 
 with rorests sacred to Hecate, a goddess or hell, but now 
 it is liiilr \v.-kI.,1, ciilt;v;iti,il, light, and airy, and cxhila- 
 ratii.-^ ' • 're is the Grotto del Cane. 
 
 J.K ' mele, the daughter or Cad- 
 
 tiv;il- V , i:, ', iiites and BacchiB, ran about 
 
 rriiMii.-ni... , in. .. M..i..> .. I L.iilied with vine and ivy leaves, 
 with fawu ilviaa uvur Llitir shoulders, swinging thyrsi 
 (blunt spears twine^l witlwvy-leaves), beating drums and 
 s orten indecent and 
 
 Bacchus, invocation to, 213 ;- rites or, 218. 
 
 Bacon, Lord Verulam, culOjjized, 150 ; — his remark on gar- 
 dening, 161; — the rerormer or I 
 his garden, 165. 
 
 Bagi>ipcs, music or the, on Mayday, 91. 
 
 Ball, the cart-horse, 195 ; flies ; cruelty or docking, 195. 
 
 Ball-play, 270. 
 
 Baltic, tempest in the, ! 
 
 Bank, a flowery, in spring, 8. 
 
 Bankruptcy, through building, 87. 
 
 Biin<iuct, rural, or May-day, described, 97 ; or Alrides, 96. 
 
 Itaptisms : a poem, by Crabbe, 316—322. 
 
 Bakbu ID, Mrs. Anna Letitia, the sister or Dr. John Aikin, 
 w:ii imrn ill ITW, and died on the 9th or March, 1826. 
 H-T ft'' 'r ' fv-'i' ■'. «.'h'">l ror boys, and his daughter re- 
 ceiv. I I 1 ! II with them. She married Roche- 
 
 slic piiiai-tiivl l's;ilm>* -, also Hymns in Prose ; and, lu 1786, 
 assist.-.! lier lirother in writing Evenings at Home. She 
 compiled a selection or essays in 1803 ; and or the British 
 novelists, in 1810, with notices. 
 
 BiRBAi'LD's (Mrs. A.X.) ode on Spring, 51 ; -lines, 'God 
 Kvcry where,' 296 ; —lines on the Divine Sovereignty, 78. 
 
 Bards and prophets, 140, 
 
 Barnaby, the rarmer's butt, 322. 
 
 Baknakd, Lady A.nss, authoress or' Auld Robin Gray.' It 
 was composed about the year 1771, ond became po)iular, 
 but she kept the secret or iu authorship ror fltty years, 
 when, in 1823, she acknowledged it hi a letter to Sir Wal- 
 
 66 
 
 ter Scott. Lady B. was daughter or James Lindsay, fifth 
 Earl oT Balcarres, and marrleil Sir Andrew Barnard, 
 librarian to ae<'rge III. Uom 1760, died 1825. 
 
 Barn-labors In harvesting, 105. 
 
 Bastlle, the, 471 ; prisoner or, 471. 
 
 Bathing, advantages or, 147 ; — In nunmer, 147 ; story or, 
 147, 148 ; — precepU respecting, 339, 340 ; — bather, 147. 
 
 Bayard, blind, h " " " ""' 
 
 Bayona, Bayonne, lo i 
 the * bayonet.* 
 
 Beagle, tlie, IU habits I 
 
 Beans, In blossom, 8. 
 
 Beasts, some degenerate by change or climate, 273. 
 
 Beathk, .Iamks, 1,1,. I),, a Scotch poet ; author orThc MIn 
 
 sir 1, .1 I -1,1 i s. lie was born 1736, and died it 
 
 Is" 11 ' ! I || -h i>',siUon among the poets and au- 
 tl. I w;is Proressor or Moral 
 
 Benuiies ,.i .Niuur.-, io-i, '264, '205 ; —or the countiy, 284 
 ir nut [eit, uuiuot be |>ainted, '284. 
 
 Beauty, elTects or on rude natures, 50 ; no spot entirely Inca- 
 pable or It, 162 i true line or beauty, 167 ; nature's usual 
 curve ; seen in the ox-fbrrow, team-rut, milk-maid's path, 
 course or hare, stream, 167 ; — consists with thrift, 168. 
 
 Beauty, Spirit or : an ode, by R. Dawes, 160. 
 
 Bedrord Level, 498. 
 
 Beds, mattresses, reather-beds, and health, 341. 
 
 Beech, uses or, 62 ; — spring revival or, 131. 
 
 Beer, 66 ; its efTects on British valor, 97. 
 
 Bees, at work In spring In the meadow, 8 
 ered Tor honey, 308 ; — the subject or Vlrgirs fourth 
 Gcorgic, 2'29 — 236 ; resting-places, herbs, 229 ; bee-hive, 
 wild bees' nests, cautions, K9 ; habits or bees In spring, 
 young, swarming, quarrels, bees going rorth to war ; bow 
 to know the true king and best race, how to recall bees 
 rrom idling, 230 ; gardens and garden plants ror bees, 329, 
 231 ; social polity or the bees ; various offices or individu- 
 als ; liiv, lik.riiei! to the Cyclops armory ; various employ- 
 m-Tit«.'j:ll : •■■.ri..! li:iWt9orbees, 231. 232 ; 
 
 t to be a 
 
 \ length or lire 
 .ih; how and 
 
 lire ; honors to the q 
 
 > get the hon<7 
 I'-stroy the bee-moth, lllards, etc., 
 iiid remedies, 232, 233 ; the AmeU 
 
 blo._.d, :::^'i i story of Aristaius, Cyrene, Proteus, and Or- 
 pheus, '233—236 ; Aristajus artificially produces a swarm 
 or bees, 236. 
 
 Beehives, how to make, 2'29. Bee-moth, 232. See Bees. 
 
 Beggary, '21 ; — and tliieving caused by sloth and waste, 
 461 ; — prevention or, 606. 
 
 , a brot" 
 
 cidefitally by h 
 
 Bellosa, goddess or war, 90. Her temple stood outside the 
 gates or Home, and here the Roman senate received am- 
 bassadors. Berore it stood a pillar over which a spear was 
 thrown on the declaration of war. 
 
 Bcnacus, Lake Gardn, in North Italy. 
 
 Beneficence, the best outlet ror superfluity, 200 ; — should 
 unite rich and poor, 26S ; all nature mutually helprul, 
 268 ; —contrasted with selfishness, 151. 
 
 Benevolence, how landholders may exert it, 66. 
 
 Benevolent, the, warmed up in spring, 1-2. 
 
 Benighted wanderer, 308. 
 
 Bible, a lamp to Nature, 476 ; — commenUtott on, 316. 
 
 Biography, raise, 80, 81. 
 
 Bio.v, a Greek poet, born near Smyrna ; he lived chiefly In 
 Sicily, and died there. It is said, by poison. Mosehus was 
 his pupil. " • ■■ —" " • — 
 
 A Theocritus. 
 
 Bios'3 Evening Star, '25. 
 Birch, uses or, 62, 
 
 Birds, their loves, ; — nest-building, 9 ; love ror and care 
 or their young, 10, 11 ; couruhip or, 9 ; — nests, 9, 10 ; 
 places ror, 9, 10 ; robbed, 10 ; — young, learning to fly, 
 10 ; — rearing of young, 10, 11 ; courage and art or, 10 ; 
 
 — hatching eggs, 10 ; the young, 10, 11 ; caging or, 10 ; 
 
 — songs or, In spring, 13'2, 133 ; young or, hi spring, 
 133 ; —during winter, 468. Birtl-lire, In spring, 132, 133. 
 
 Birds, ballad to the : by Graves, 129. 
 
 Bittern, a sign or spring, 3. 
 
 Blackbird, the, morning song or, 42 ; — love-song or, 9. 
 
 Blackhcalh, England, 50. Blade, the early, 42. 
 
 BlaUe, Bp., and wool-comb^ 
 
 ' Blast ' or the cane, efliwu 
 
 Bleaching wool, dyeing, etc. 
 
 , and remedy, 426, *M. 
 
522 B R INDEX. 
 
 C A 
 
 BlessiDKS on the master who gives labor its dues, 197. 
 
 and most of them befor 
 
 e he was twenty. He wrote Britan- 
 
 BlessiiiBS of rural life, JTl. 
 
 ma's Pastorals ; Sh.-i.h 
 
 r.l's Pipe ; Irmer T.-mpl,,- Ma3,,ue. 
 
 Blon,l, ,:,,:il,,-i.:,..n- ', - - , >val, chyte, 199. 
 
 t:, „..,■,,■, i-,:ii.....,'- r 
 
 
 Bloi.M, ■ J- .'J 
 
 
 
 Blmm,, ,, k ' . ll'iiiinKton, Suffolk, in 
 
 
 
 177'., I.I ... ' . - . . ! l: 1 . l-lnre,Augasll9, 1823. 
 
 
 \ , . 1 II ' 1 . 1 to 
 
 His l.ili.i,., ,.il..i .l:.,l „l. .1 III.. i.iiL-t was a child, and 
 
 
 
 he was l.luowl uii.li-i- li.s uocl,', a larmer, for two years. 
 
 
 1 ... 1,. ...... -,. .,.,li,nh 
 
 Being tuu weak for a farmer, lie was taken by his elder 
 
 wuspulil;,; . 1. 
 
 
 brother to London, and brought up to the trade of a shoe- 
 
 liamsCnii, 
 
 |..,.- , . - . '.1 tl,e 
 
 maker. It was in a shoemaker's garret that he composed 
 
 law. 11 , 
 
 
 
 i,] Gni.l 1: 
 
 
 tliirlv r.., :\ .1-- M, ■■.-;.>, -'^r. .lii'l;-..-,, r.,,, I I, .•-l.i.- 
 
 
 .11 ';n.^^;i;::;t^ 
 
 Buin-'i"...'.' ' \'.' . -.'.■.: _ .' . ■ ^1, ■ .. , 
 
 ,,'■;';;■ ,',,, , ,'', ;, 
 
 .. 1 ■ ni ..-|., -is'.i;- 'Autumn 
 
 f; 7,'^ ... II . 11 . , ' , ii'.ik.-i, .,.:.^, .,-;■ ,— 
 
 \\ '. . I, ■ ,.,, ' ,1,,, ,' 
 
 ,4;->t„ies,Uym.i:'anode,39, 
 
 l.n. ., .. 1 . .. i . ii 1 1 1 .ii;-JlarUut Niglit, a 
 
 '"- '' "i'.' \ ,;'."„.'he 
 
 , 261; -'Song of 'VVooine,' 159 ; 
 ,376;— 'Summer Wind,' 206. 
 
 Bi,'"..i ' 111. 1 -' , 41— W; Summer, 
 
 
 i. 
 
 111.; 1 IT . \ nil . .1 \\.i.t,;r,145— 449. 
 
 r,., . 1 . . .'nip 
 
 y wells, SI. 
 
 Blosai,,,,., u,.- »M,:d„i, 4. 
 
 
 
 Blue-jay, the, 132. 
 
 
 
 B:jdy, the spiritual, influences the animal, 451 ■, — progress 
 
 
 
 of the body from youth to age, 203, 204. 
 
 
 1 ,- , ■ , ll..,.,rd 
 
 Boiling. ,if cider, 3^5. 
 
 
 
 Bo,«.,-lnv.--... Ih- . .Mii'ii.n llvil .-n nv.t;.,-, i. f,-,.p, firr, n..!-, r,S 
 
 
 , .' '"'■'''^ 
 
 B0..K1-I1 I'll -.11. ,1, . 1. ......1 1,1 II, 1 .111 l|... Il„ 
 
 
 
 B0..I, ..| N 1. . . . 1:.., 1:. 
 
 
 
 Bo„l,-i. .1. , ,. . ..1,. 
 
 
 . i'.. . . , 1 ... . 1 - .... :,„d 
 
 Bo.,l„s ..11,1 . |.. 1 .. . ... in 1.1,1..... ,:>,.., 
 
 1 . . 1 . ., II 
 
 
 Bore.,,, U,...,..; ...1. ... 1. ..,« .W.„U, |„uL„,0U,li 
 
 
 
 of the nortln ; . . . ...LI as a god. 
 
 
 
 Borough, an in. |i,. . . 
 
 r... , . .;,.,. 
 
 ., ,1 ,, .. . .nn. . ... ,|.. ...... 
 
 Borrowdale, 172, 
 
 
 
 Borrowing anil 1. 'i 1 . ...vi.-d, 21. 
 
 ; 1 . , 
 
 . , .. i, !.i-|..i|....in,iri 
 
 Boston. K-,..l....l. l-_ 
 
 
 : 1 - 1 ■ Ik Una burn 
 
 Bot:..i...,l I,..,..., . -Jit, 
 
 
 
 Botani 1 . |. .1 J>1,2S2, 321. 
 
 11 v'.'ni.', 1, J,' 
 
 
 
 111., III..,-. III.- i-i..,. 1 ■. 
 
 i '.''inni'V ' '■'■"'"^'"''^' "■ 
 
 Bow'.., 111.., ..1 li...... 1;., .1.11.., 1 ;■..,' iso'i'visit to, 181. 
 
 
 
 Bowls, a.d.oy,dai.Ci,.g, 270,271. 
 
 
 
 Box-tree, uses of, 62. 
 
 
 
 Boy-brcdegroom, married to her he had seduced, 370. 
 
 1;,: ..,,. '. 
 
 1,11; — the vanquished, 224. 
 
 Boyle, 160. 
 
 
 : 1 ,),t)yCrabbe, 407-416. 
 
 Braes of Yarmw , a ballad, by Hamilton, 465, 466. 
 
 \:'. . ,, ' , 
 
 1, 2.:,'>. See Laborer: Pauper. 
 
 Brazen A-,-, H,.>, R.-i-urs description of, 19. See Ages. 
 
 '■" ■ i 
 
 
 1:'.,'.' . !. . 
 
 
 Br....lii. .t..f the horse, 223. See Horse. 
 
 1: , 1; 
 
 II, -t volume at Kilmarnock, 
 
 Bret.iii. rill. .1.1. ,.ii. . ...vl'in. .1 hall.nl, 129. 
 
 
 |.i.-s, inl7S6. It soon be- 
 
 Bri.l.U, l.j,. , la.u.l,, ..l..,,.« ....• 1 .I'll-, 1. ...■!-, an.l flowers, 166. 
 
 
 .. 1 l,.-,...il,- ,l„. larionf Kllis- 
 
 Bride, a, b. l.e or not to 1... .1.1 .... ).. . ... n .k-uuy and 
 
 lan.l, ,„'.,, Ii 
 
 i ',i,-...,.ni. .In, III,- He 
 
 Peggy, 106, 107. 
 
 
 1. -, 1 ,., ., .lilts. 
 
 Bride and Bridegroom, the ;. nil ,J 
 
 
 
 Bridget Dawdle,Ro.gerPlu..k, II |. .1 1 . .l.nan, 372 -, 
 
 
 
 fate of Bridget, 372 ; lov. .: . . . .. , 72 
 
 l.nl.l^li. 1, 1, 
 
 ,,.,,... .1 l.ia-c 
 
 Britain, origin of the nam. 11 ., ,„..l„.,-. 
 
 
 
 66, 67;— eulogy on, 67 ; . 
 
 
 
 war and peace, eulogizr.l, . . 
 
 
 
 eulogiz.-.l, 149; cities, 1 i- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 412' 1 1'.. _. ,1 ..,.■■.■ . ., ; . r, :', , ; 
 
 '".'iii'.'IV".:"/'.,',- 
 
 I... -y, 20;- Cotter's Satur- 
 
 , .tl... siicrificed strangers on the 
 V -l.n.l.y Hercules. 
 
 Br'i't., Ml'..'' 'r. .' . ' V. .' i,'.' '. ■ 1 ,.' 'r.V ,11 ",;, 
 
 r 1 . • '.,'"i'!.,'-"l'" "''e 
 
 Dairy ; Patty. 
 
 Br.l..l. .... .... i: . , 1 ... 
 
 1: .,-; .....il, lao. II 
 
 Bnt...... -1 .... . . , . , 
 
 
 
 Bnjl....i II. Ill, .In ,, [.. 1 , , ,1 1 , |.,,,.-., ,J7, 
 
 
 
 Brotherl 1, cnn.in...., ..I Inn '■; , ^1 
 
 
 
 Brown, called 'CapahiHty 111 .V, I.' , . ..ii,n:..i ml ,..11:.- 
 
 
 . , I ',;, 
 
 
 
 1 1 , 1. II. .„ /,...,,.,„ ,-l,,.-l..ftlie 
 
 uala in reinodelliii- and ni.. I. . m 1 n 1 1. . m . .; . i. , II. 
 
 \i. ■ i. 
 
 1 . ..-l.,rl.l,ly,ii.,,-l, „..-.., and 
 
 is^e,™,,,i,,,.m,.,l.,s.,,a,,.,..,i,.^ 
 
 
 .. 1,2134; conclusion of Virgil's 
 
 '''lanin, !\ ,'„'', ^, ,! n' 'li n ' , ' ^ „ . '' , ' i ' .. '\':.'. ^ \''.,^- 
 
 .-ii'i".::.,'::':.:'.-'.','.;. 
 
 l.,|.„rtentsat, 213; Pharsa- 
 in '111,'1,1'longing to Calydon, acity 
 
 
 on a rocky hc-ight of'.l 
 
 tolia, of ample and productive ter- 
 
 
 rltory. The Calydnae 
 
 were islands near Tenedos ; also 
 
 He died at Ottery St. Mary's (Ooleriilge's birth-place), in 
 
 another group, off the 
 Calista, wife of Uobbinol 
 
 mast of Caria, Asia Minor. 
 
 1645. All his poems were produced before he was thirty, 
 
 senior, 89. 
 
528 
 
 Calliopr, the reus 
 Culm brforc April a 
 
 liost, H6 i binis, r 
 CalmSf sultry, of the 
 Calves, care or, 223; i 
 Cam, Cniiiai, n river t 
 Cambrlilge Paraon, the, 416 ; his death and I 
 Compnuia (CamiuiRii:! K.^liiv), S. E. of Niipl. 
 Canullini-f.r .Irnnh, ■, in-u- i-I .n, nii.l Inii^ 
 
 Cane, lls.-nlnu. ii i i ' ■. : ,i,...)i.i \~ II,.. I. 
 
 posts, 41" ;....... .,...1.1.1 
 
 of planting', ill i nl 
 ley, 421 ; jolnUoK-i 
 land to plant; sued 
 
 Cone-liiiuls, n ', II I . I. 1,1 ,,,!, .1 III .lull III. I .111 II i .1 
 Uane-plaiil ni"'*'">^< ^*''-' v^l-i-^l' aiU^jL u, 4:..--i_; , iii.,;t- 
 
 428 ;' ants, 428 ; hurricanes, 436, 427 ; earthquakes, 427. 
 Cane-soils, dark, of Ilarbadoes, etc., 418 ; urigation, 418 ; 
 
 compostlnf?, 418. 
 ' Capability ' Brown, Mr., alluded to by Cowpcr, 88. 
 Captivity, its Iiormrs, 471. 
 Caravan, 144, 145. 
 Cards unnecessary, 459. 
 Canling wool, 503. 
 Carrl-piayers, inveterate, 250. 
 Care and love for trees, 83. 
 
 Care as affecting health, 452 ; what drink useful, 452. 
 Cares contrasted of employer and employed, 319, 320. 
 
 Carpathian, belonging to Carpathus, now Scarpanto, an 
 
 island of Greece, near Rhodes. 
 Carthngena, New Grenada, Vernon*s fleet sick at, 145. 
 Cascade, how to secure a iwrmanent one, 178. 
 
 w, use of, 437. 
 
 lia, or Castaly, a celebrated fountain on Mt. Pamas- 
 , sacre<l to the Muses. Oozing clear and sweet from the 
 k, it pours down the cleft between the two summits. 
 >f Delille, celebrated by La Fontaine, 284 ; stuffed, 284. 
 act and rude scenery, 141. 
 irine Llnyd, the prudish spinster, story of, 410. 
 and liberty, 144. 
 
 ?, propur shelter for in winter, 222 ; breeding of, 232 i 
 linj." and trriining of, 223 ; feeding, fighting, 224 ; epi- 
 .i,- ..i.ii,,],..', -i'T, 228. Cattle buried in snow, 226 i 
 .11,, . ,"! Kiiiiltiess to, 445 ; feeding and watering, 
 III. ; in winter, 467. 
 i: i. litst,' a song (vn.), 108. 
 
 e, 208, 267 ) rejected sUg, 288 ; ravage! of the 
 in harvest, 66 ; autumn music of the, 334. 
 Chase, the regular, came in with the Normans, 34B. 
 Chase, the ; a poem, by Somerville. 
 Cheap Immortality, 248. 
 
 Cheese-making, 69 ; — skim-milk, sale, etc., 43, 44. 
 rii.-.-lluiiii'a Tliippy Mean : an ode, 324. 
 
 'I -. I ,11, ,1 I., ^hopping — empty, 470. 
 I i: :,i/.ed, 401,402. 
 
 11- s of, 62 j —double row of, a«. 
 
 , her restless grief, 165. 
 
 man. Tliey were fabled 
 Thessaly, and may indi- 
 
 1 11 Ml I, !■ -if Saturn and Rhea *, she 
 1 L'i-:iin mid crops ; being the same as 
 [liemeter), her Greek name. She sought 
 -osi-rpine, whom Pluto stole, all over earth, 
 i.r f'>r part of each year fVom Hades. 
 ^iiiiinit-r r('li>;iousritesto,by farmers, 211. 
 
 J 15— 282 ; joint stools, 246 ; 
 
 1 . - Ills, 248. Sleep and the 
 
 Cliainpion, th< 
 
 champion, 9l. 
 Chandos family, 382. 
 Chauoer eulogiicil, 150. 
 Change indispensable to happiness, 350. 
 Changes, harmony* of natural and mom 
 Chanonat the schoolmaster, 289. 
 
 , at May-games, 91 ; the valley 
 
 14 ; — carefiil education of urged, 133 j — the cotter*!, how 
 to be clothed and armed, as shepherds, 170 ; — healthy, of 
 the cotter, 170 ; a live fence, 170 ; rose of innocence, 170. 
 
 Children in the Wood : a ballad, 185, 186. 
 
 Chilled circulation, 341. 
 
 Cliiswick gardens, *U. 
 
 Choice, the, by .Moschus, translated from the Greek, 88. 
 
 Choleric, lulvice to, 455. 
 
 Christobclle, 422. Tale of the West Indies, 427, 428. 
 
 Cliristmas Hymn, by Milton, abridged, 444. 
 
 Cidir, a imcm by .1. Philips, 377—391 ; Book I., The Apple, 
 
 at the May-day fray. 
 
 Circuit of the waters, 304. 
 Circulation of the blou<l, 199. 
 Clthwron, an clevatcil ridge of 
 
 from Megaris and Attica, in C 
 Cities, disadvantages nf as to 
 
 252; nurs.»..farr, 3'.>K. 
 
 Cili^.-M. !. . MM .I', i> walk 
 
 Cilp.i.. M I . , " .2\i. 
 
 — city, till- hurii'.l, -JT!" ; — city, tlie, in winter, 
 city pomps and dJssipation.H, 45.S. 
 
 Civil war, 271, 389 ; Knglish, 380, 390 ; Bertie, Compton, 
 Cromwell, Charles, Granville, 389. 
 
 Civilliatlon, 298 ; due to what, 162 ; Ita advantages over 
 barbarism, 261. 
 
 Curb Johm, ' one of the moat truly unedacated of English 
 poets, and one of the licst of our rural describers,' was 
 born at Helpstone, Kngland, in 1793, ami die.1 about 1829. 
 His parcnta were peasants ; hbi father, a helpless cripple 
 and |iau|KT. At thirteen he had hoanled up a shilling, ami 
 purcbasnl Thomson's Seiwons. In January, 1820, hia 
 Poems Descriptive of Rural Life and Scenery were bmoghl 
 out by a bookseller, who bought them for 2«. The man- 
 tines and reviews were unanimous in their fl«vor. In 18M 
 came out his Village Minstrel. In a short time Clare, 
 by the klralness of several noblemen, was happy in the 
 receipt of 150 dollars Income, and married his • Fatly ol 
 the Vale,' his ' rosebud in humble life.' 
 
 CLlaa's Spring Musings of a IVasant Poet, 63 ; Bummer 
 Insects, 282 ; the Broken Heart, 326, 327. 
 
 Clicdh (163), a ftimons French painter, distinguished for tbe 
 - - - ' delicate coloring of li " 
 
624 
 
 Clearing for c 
 
 ;-plantiDg ; spare guava, guaiac, shaddoc, 
 
 Clearing up of the storm, 147 ; sunshine, voices of nature, 
 humility, gratitude, admiration, 147- 
 
 Clergy criticized, -162, 463 ; corrupt, 463. 
 
 Clergymen, country, the good, the self-seeking, the faithful, 
 268, 269. See Pastor ; Parsons. 
 
 Cliffs, naked, made fertile, 274. 
 
 Climate, the English described, a dismal picture, 49 ; adapt 
 habits to it, 339 ; toughening, 339 ; change of climate, 
 340 J English, its advantages for sheep husbandry, 490, 
 493, 494 i great men, 490 ', contrasted, 491, 493. 
 
 Clio (glory), the muse of history ; inventress of the cith- 
 ara lyre, 77. See Muses. 
 
 Clothing, winter, for the Greek farmer, 22;— clothing ma- 
 
 Clothier's art compared with the farmer's, 504, 505. 
 
 Coal-smoke, its good effect on air, 47. Coals, British, 66. 
 
 Coan, of the island of Cos, in the Mediterranean, not far 
 from Rhodes. Coat of Arms, the cotter's, 315. 
 
 CoBHAM, dedication to, 189. 
 
 Cock, the, 11. Cock-fighting, 317. 
 
 Cockney poets, theii tinsel ruralism, 284 
 
 Code Noir, negro code of Louis \IV , 441 Cole, river, 294 
 
 Coleridge, Samcel Taylor, burn at Ottery St Mary, 
 20th Oct , 1772, and died at Ilighgate, July 25th, 18o4 
 He was a man of profound thoUobt and curious erudition , 
 and has written some poetry that is unsui passed of its 
 kind. He says of himself that at foui teen he was a ' play 
 leas day dieamei a glutton of books ,' and so he was to 
 the end of his hfe So foilorn and destitute wat. he in Lon 
 don, at one time, that he enlisted as a dragoon A Latin 
 
 who restored him t hi° fiitn Is ' Much of hib life was 
 spent m poverty ^.nl depeudenLC, amilst disappointment 
 and ill health and in tl i il n t\ <_ u 1 I v i i 
 fortunate and e\ce«si\ h 1 1 
 
 other things, France, an 1 1 i 
 principles , Ode on th I 
 tude } Fiobt at Midni^l i 
 
 ner 5 Remoise The ii 1 1 l / ] l \ I 
 
 to Reflection, etc etc 
 CoLERiD E a Domestic Peact., o24 , Mont BUul, 4bb 
 Colin, r C jlin Clodt, the pastoral name Spenser adopted 
 Colin, his exploits m the May day fray, 92, 93 
 Collins, >ViLLiAM, was born at Cbichestei, England, on 
 Christmas day, 1720 Educated at Oxford, with assistance 
 from an uncle, he suidenlj left there, and went to London 
 His learning was extensu t, I ut he w inted steadiness and 
 application , hence bis biief histui j is a painlul 
 
 Corinth, the old name of currant, a berry. 
 
 Cormantee negroes, liberty-lovers, 436. 
 
 Corporations, apt to have no consciences, 463, 
 
 Correspondence between Delille and Polish princess, 2S9. 
 
 Corruption, political, worse than highway robbery, 87. 
 
 Cosmogonists, theu self-conceit and nonsense, 81. 
 
 Cosmogony of Buffon, 278. Cosset-lamb, the, 493. 
 
 Cottage, the humble, described, 315 ; — ornaments, books, 
 315, 316 ; Cottage children, what to do with them ; in 
 landscape gardening, 170 ; — compared to spring, 170 ; — 
 cottage content, by Rogers, 205 ; — cottage-fires, evening, 
 77; — cuttage-home, of the Welsh shepherd, 490; — 
 cnttii-.-l;il.nr, I's ill winter, 460, 461 } scanty lights, fuel, 
 
 Cnit;i,-rrs, l:)4 -, — '.^luuiay eve of, 316. 
 
 tliL' iPK-t.un.>(iue", 170. 
 Cotter's Saturday Night, the, by Robert Burns, 367, 363. 
 Country, adieu to the, 31 ; ^recommendation of, 48; — 
 
 Country -Box, by Lloyd, 323;— marred by man, 82; 
 
 should soothe and elevate, 82 ; — invocation to its quiet 
 
 and virtue, 265 ; — who best enjoy, 263 ; — beauties of, 
 
 rupted by the town, 462 ; charming still, 463 ; Country 
 Gentleman, or the Rural Philosopher: a poem by the 
 Abbe J Dehlle, tr by Maunde, 263—289 ; the country 
 gill desciibed, 31 , her happy lot, 31 ; — retii-emeut, the 
 
 disipptintmeuts, 273 , — homestead o"" 
 
 
 ,89; 
 
 76, 77. 
 
 ) sudden e 
 
 idge. 
 
 Com t, the Bi itish, 293 Courtship of birds, 9. 
 
 Covent Garden Market, London, 61. Cowley, 293, 464. 
 
 CottLE\, Abraham, 'the most popular poet of his times.' 
 
 P I n 1618 , died 1667 He studied at Cambridge and 
 
 »» i Though he went on several embassies, and 
 
 i 1 d fo the royal fam ly he WdS overlooked on 
 
 t on He finally settled at CI ertsey on £300, 
 
 x-d aiids 
 
 becilitj He died in 175b age 
 
 by some critics to be the m st 
 CoLLiNs's Fidele's Tomb a ba 
 Colonial gloues of Biitain, 442 
 Columbus, eulogized and ai u t 
 
 fate, and fame, 418 
 Comet, 152 Comf 1 1 
 
 Commerce, British 01 1 
 
 navy, 298 , effects of l 
 
 triumphs , Great Brit 
 
 logium on commerce, t>0_ 1> 
 
 » odes are deemed 
 
 highways and byways 508 SeeTiade Biitam 
 CommonweaUh of bees 231 See Bees 
 Companionship, indispensable to age, 267. 
 Compelled wedding, the, 370 ; sin and misery, 370. 
 CoMUS, the god of fun. Conceit of blind 
 
 ;,81. 
 
 Concluding Hymn of Praise, by Thomson, 514, 515, 
 Conclusion of the Register of the Village Poor, 415. 
 Conflagration of a ripe field of sugar-canes, 420. See Canes. 
 Congo negroes, 436. 
 
 Connoisseur, coxcomb, 479. Connubial bliss, 14. 
 
 Conscience calls to the quiet, country life, 359 ; hardening 
 
 of conscience, 474. 
 Conservatory, 179 ; description of the, by Cowper, 84 ; 
 
 Consolation for the lossof the lirpaii.Ll, m. 
 
 Constellations, ten of tli.in n;i i i.> \m'i1,210; Kids, 
 
 Dragon, Arcturus, Scal-s, I>mii, Ai-.>, < .mis, Pleiades, 
 Crown, Bootes, Dipper, Lull- \-< :ir, -1". !^'-:- Zodiac. 
 
 A\ LL Aft tl 
 
 Bcrkhan stead wl 
 1731 , d ed Apr I l 
 his father i\as 1 1 
 English system of 
 
 s Born at 
 t Nov. 15, 
 descent, and 
 Through the 
 
 Crabbe Re 
 
 hn^ 
 
 I Feb lh3 
 
 pro pect, and 
 
 fifteen dolla s of m ney n 1 ket H s fi t poem. The 
 Candidate vas coldly ece ved and h s pubhsher faiUng, 
 the poet h s extieme need vrote to No th Thurlow, 
 and others 1 ut got ne tl e a d 
 disclosed h s m serv to Bu lie 
 
 1, he publ she 1 
 iced by c t c 1 
 I sent h m £11 
 
 ofthe Duke of Ru 1 
 Cbabde's Par sh Re 
 Marriage 3b9 — c ■ 
 
 Th s year, 
 ras favorably 
 to breakfast, 
 and became 
 e chaplaincy 
 
 li 1 ms 315—322 ; 
 40 ^lo —A llage: a 
 — Ijp y or Hall of Jus- 
 tice, 39 —394 
 Crabstocks g ft ng of 379 wl y preferable 3 9 
 Crazy Kat 250 Crea 69 
 
 Creation, cea eless of seeds and eggs 62 — pretenaiona as 
 todate of t>l —the n spring 318 —a constant recip- 
 ient of life from God, 478. 
 
625 
 
 Cromwell ni 
 Crops riiK'ii 
 Cruelly I" 
 
 Cube aii.l 
 Cucumlx I 
 
 Krowlli, 
 Cuddy, liw 
 Cudgel-I>>'> 
 
 Cuir, Buv- 
 
 Cullodeii. I 
 
 costly, S4 ; — >> ^.l-i; l, -i- , ■''■ -'l ' i-tiionaWe, 272. 
 
 Culver, a l>igt''>n, h. (."mnbrkin, Welsh. 
 
 Ccs.siNGlliM, JoB.s (1729—1773), a respectable actor, son 
 of a wine-coo|ier. In Dublin. In his latter years he lived 
 at Ncwcastle-on-Tyne, in the house of a generous printer, 
 and on his hospitality. 
 
 Ccs-NISOHJIM'S Day : an eclogue, 163, 154. 
 
 CcplD, note, p. 26, in a bush, and shot at, 13, 14 -, — a Run- 
 away : an idyl, by Moschus, 26. 
 
 Curds, whey, and butter-millc, 43. 
 
 Curve of Beauty, 167. See Beauty. 
 
 CvBELE, the 'Mother of the gods,' or ' Great Mother; ' 
 daughter of Coelus (heaven) and Terra (earth), and re- 
 garded as the goiidess of Nature. Iler worship was fran- 
 tic, like that of Bacchus. 
 
 Cyclops, one-eyed giants, workmen in the smith-god's (Vol- 
 can's) shop, under Etna, where he and they forged the 
 armor and weapons of the gods, the shield of Achilles, and 
 other choice bits of classical smithwork. 
 
 CvNTUiA, Diana. See Diana. 
 
 Cyprian, belonging to the Isle of Cyprus. 
 
 CyiiKSB, story of, 233, 334 ; daughter of the river Peneus. 
 Apollo carried her to Cyrene (Uarca), in Africa, and had 
 by her a son, Aristieus. See Aristseus. 
 
 Czartorinska, the Polish Princess, i68 ; her correspondence 
 
 with 1 
 Dairy, the, 43 ; — fanning, 68, 69 ; — m« 
 
 Daisy, 8 ;'— the Mountain, an ode to, by Bums, 25, 26, 
 
 , and her 
 
 Diunask rose, 9. 
 Danioh and Clin ; a piiiitoral ecluR 
 Damon aii.l Mm-iIi .. -ii> -i. n: 
 Dance arnMi.l I .. 
 
 Danceur-U' ■//■■, ',,■ 
 
 ''■ 
 
 JO, 496. 
 
 ' Mis names, 167; 
 
 'J ,lLScribed,16S; 
 > 111 alarm, 16S. 
 
 3 dancing com- 
 
 , i^ ; figures of the 
 
 Dai-jims, a fiimoua sheplitrd. ^e mitcs pp. 18, 19. 
 
 Danla.^ Trepan. Darent. nver, 2W. 
 
 Darwin and Peter Pratt, 321. 
 
 David, his faith and stay, 366. 
 
 Dawn of a Summer's Morning, 136. 
 
 Dawk), Rufus, the youngest but one of a large family of 
 sixteen, was born at Boston, Jan. 26, 1803. Ue studied 
 at Harvard College, was admitted to llie bar, but never 
 
 isupei 
 ship of various gods, 23, ; 
 
 Days, lucky 
 
 Days, two, describci), 311. 
 
 Day of Judgment, learned men at the, 81. 
 
 Day-star, arisen, 131. Dead, the loved and honored, 260. 
 
 Dead, the, of Winter, 405. Dean fnrcst, 63, and note. 
 
 ' Dear Roger, If your Jenny geek : ' a song (il.), 103. 
 
 Death, a happy one, 14; — of the good man, 36; — Uic 
 mother's : a tale, 412 ; her children's grief, 412 ; — a part 
 of and necessary to progress, 204. 
 
 Death-beds, 407 ; cheerful, unusual, 407 ; gloomy retrospec- 
 tion ; resignation unusual, 407 ; 
 407 ; death-bed, commonpUice, 407 ; proper 
 feelings described, 407. 
 
 and in the fom 
 Mt. Parnassus, 
 which so long i 
 
 Mere 
 
 i'hjini 
 n abbi 
 >lm,by 
 
 Ti 
 
 .hlihentre, on the south side of 
 
 temple of Ap.. 
 worth ten an' I 
 
 
 1 lui..kred of lrea«lres 
 
 Prance), at a » 
 
 treasures. Syll 
 
 Delight iu God : 
 
 D«ul,.«,Jka.s,« 
 
 compliment u> 
 
 
 I • ■ .l<u plundered it. 
 
 of 
 the 
 
 .r..!*.-, I>y Francis Quarin, 192. 
 Prance, poet and diplomatist; 
 Pruices. CiartoriMka, of Po- 
 
 See. 
 
 > the 
 
 got the 'Rural 
 
 Dklillk's (the abb^ Jean) Country Gentleman (Homme 
 des Champs, or Man of the fields), s 
 translated by John Maunde, with th 
 Philosopher,' 203—289. 
 
 Delirium tremens, 462 ; Pentheus, 462, 463. 
 
 Deluge, moral cause of the, 6 ; its effect oo the seaaofu and 
 on life, 6 ; effecU of tlie, 278. 
 
 Deluge of hail and rain in summer, 146. 
 
 Delusions of the worldly or natural man, 80. 
 
 Demons, note upon, p. 19. Denham, 293. 
 
 Deo, Opt. Mux., an abbreviation tor the UlllQ phrase Deo, 
 Optimo, Maximo, used by the Romans, and meaning, ' To 
 God, the Best and Oreateal,' 134. 
 
 Desert, the, is only where man is not, 162. 
 
 Deserted Village, the ; a piwrn, Ijy G.iliismith, 36—38. 
 
 Desolation, rural, 30 ; — of aspect, how to manage It In a 
 lan(lsca))e, 167 ; horror to 1m: changed to grandeur, 167. 
 
 Destruction of Ariconium ; drought, gases, earthquakes, 370. 
 
 Dbucauo-N, a kind of classic Noah. The legend Is that Ju- 
 piter wishing to destroy the race of the Bnuen Age, Deu- 
 calion, by the advice of his fa 
 
 liiunond, 137. 
 
 liana in Wuidsor Forest, 292. Dibble, the sexton, 414. 
 liet, vegetable, 6, 7 ; — of roota and herbs recommendcil by 
 Kjiicurus, 64 ; —a poem by John Armstrong, 199 — 204 ; 
 
 Dinevaur Castle, ruins of, 76. 
 DisaplKiintmenta, village, 320. 
 Disappointment ; a pastoral, by Willi 
 Discontent universal, 320 ; — effecU o 
 Disease, if it seriously threatens, cons 
 Diseases of bees, and reraeilies, 2;J2. 
 he West Indies, 438 ; . 
 
 DisUir, the : au Idyl, by Thcocrlm 
 
 en's, 503, 504. Dilchem and Dawklns, Uiclr story, 320. 
 Divine communion a balm, 305 ; David, 366. 
 Divine love and wisdom, progressive In effecU, 162. 
 Divine Providence : a pastoral ode, 78. 
 Divine Sovereignty : a hymn, by Mrs. A. L. BarbaukI, 78. 
 Dobbin, the plough-horse, unharnessed, 447 ) eulogy and 
 
 biography of, 447. 
 Docking, cruelty of, 195. 
 DoDl.st;lox, Bibb, lord Melooinhe,n friend of Thomson i — 
 
 tributes to his worUl, by Thomson, 136, 187, 188, 308. 
 DODSLBV, RuDBKT (1703—1764), ' 
 
 Usher, a friend of Ir" 
 
 a poet and writer. 
 
 the' 
 
 DoDsLBY's Agriculture: a |>.^n., .ii tlin. . 
 DoDSLKv's birthplace and aapiratlvna, 03 ; 
 Hcription of himseir, 63. 
 
 oTh« 
 
Dogg, care of, 227 ; watch-Jogs, 227 i hounds, 1 
 Dogs of chase, 345—348. See Hounds. Dog's 
 Dolly : a ballad, by Bloomfield, 238. 
 Domestic animals, slaughtei- of '" ' 
 Domestic bliss, described, 14 ; 
 
 — troubles cured by reason, patience, piety, time, 373. 
 
 Domestic Peace : a sonnet, by S. T. Coleridge, 324. 
 
 Donald, young, and old Mrs. Dobson, 369 } Lucy, Susan, 
 Catharine, foiled, 369. 
 
 Doric, relating to Doris, a country of Greece, forty miles 
 long, south of Thessaly. The Dorians were the most pow- 
 erful of the Hellenic tribes, and history mentions their five 
 successive migrations. Of these, the migration to the 
 Morea, in connection with the Heraclidte, took place ia 
 1104 B, C. The primitive manners of these austere com- 
 munities caused the word Doric to be used to signify sim- 
 ple, plain, austere, Arcadian, rustic. 
 
 Doris and ^olus, story of, 277. 
 
 Double triumph of virtue, 374. Dove, in spring, 11. 
 
 iC u 
 
 2^8 
 
 le, 58 
 
 Elizabeth, Queen, w 
 Elliot, Miss Jane i i- lliot , aut 
 
 ess of Flodden fiel 1 1 i I- re^t,' 3i 
 
 Elpenor, drunken, hib fitL obJ 
 
 Elton, Sir C A hi-^ translation from Hesiod, 19—24 
 
 Elysium, the part of Hades or the Shades, appropriated t 
 
 the quasi happv tl ! i 
 Emancipation of ^ f^\ T 
 Emerson, Ralph "W^ 
 
 cated for a Umtai 
 
 vinity Schcol, he \ 
 
 See Hades 
 Jmerall 137 
 It 1803 Edu 
 
 But 
 
 Dove 
 
 , 172. 
 
 Downward tendency of things, 209, 210. 
 Draining, 63 ; — to improve healthiness, 
 Drama, the, 401. Dram-drinking 
 
 Dram-shops, a curse to the poor, 461, 46 
 Dray-horse, described, 69. 
 Drayton, Michael, born at Atlv r--tn!i. A' 
 about 1563, died 1631. fl^ u ,- ii,. - 
 
 I Notes an ode 244 
 Inme 3S — hoi rjis of their western 
 i mith si eflectioiib on emigration, 38 
 iJ>l, by Diyden, 102 
 38 , — and employed, contrasted cares 
 
 page to a person oi iiiMiu, :■■,.■,> . ■ i 
 time at ©xford Universilv i '■ i ■■ ' 
 
 rals, and afterwards otN'r p ■ ,:i- l h- , i.i ; v> ..ii. i- i !,■ 
 Polyolbion, describing Eu^l.iii.l II, iliii.> :^^a\^s. Ih^: i,\- 
 tract, p. 34, is from the twi;nty-riL;liili SMiig. 
 
 Drayton's ' Bouquet,' 206 ; — Robin in Sherwood, 34. 
 
 Dreams, the chief pursuit of mankind, 80 ; —horrid, 341 y 
 what they portend, 341. Drill, use of, 60. 
 
 Drinking, sudden, of water, avoid, after sweating, 339 ; — 
 to drown care, reprobated, 452 i— dreadful effects of in- 
 temperate, 452, 453. Drinkinf 
 
 Drinks for a dry climate, 49 ; for ' 
 
 use of, 203 ; cordicils are fur ac;e, 2011 ; — monthly. 
 
 , described, 302. 
 
 Drought and moisture in soils, 20S ■, irrigation, 208 ; — pre- 
 cautious against, 213 -, — effects of, 378, 379. 
 
 Drunkenness, disgusting, 389 ; fate of Elponnr, 3S9. 
 
 Dryden, John, an illustrinu'! ]'<■•■!. wiitr.-, rmit ]>nrti';nn. 
 Born in Northamptonsliii' . I ■! , \'i '■<■ " l"l '■■ l 
 May 1, 1701. Educatrii >. i 
 
 graduated at Cambrid;.'!'. II ' ■ 
 
 II., wrote twenty-seven \Aa. ■. ■ n,. ..,,»,.,,,., v, .,- 
 
 Dryden's ' Emily a-Maying,' 102 ;— Virgil's Tityrus and 
 Meliboeus, 45, 46 ; — Virgil's Georgics, 207—236. 
 
 Dryness, too great, avoid in a home, 48 ; — remedies, 49. 
 
 Ducks and ducklings, 11, 57. 
 
 ' Duty and part of Reason : ' .i \ . i , 1 jiK 
 
 Dyeing wool, 502 ; dyestutr-, l: 
 
 weld, cochineal, 505 -, I'l' I . 
 
 father meant him for tljr i;i 'A /i.ui ii,.jM„r- i,m.^\\.i.- 
 averse, and, after rambling: 'iver AVah's, and sk(.-tching her 
 natural beauties, he wrote Qrongar Hill, p. 75. He next 
 made the tour of Italy, to study painting ; but, discour- 
 aged !is an artist, entered the church. In 1757 he pub- 
 
 Early rising, 388 5 exhortation to, 136. 
 Earthquakes, from heat, 146 ; — of the 
 Echo and Clio, 77. 
 
 i:si;uirnl>, liiili.-li, 60, 07 Esher, the vale of, 64. 
 
 Estates, rural, how abused and wasted, 86, 87. 
 Essex, England, its plains unhealthy, and why, 48. 
 
 products and ] 
 
 I 67 5 — of Lord 
 
 wind. EmiYDiCE. See Orpheus, 235. 
 1 1^ I.- of Argos and Mycenee, in Greece, and 
 yi 11.1 ■! .1 1'. hi-. Hercules, being two months younger, 
 was ti> I.L' subservient to his will, by the fiat of Jupiter. 
 This power was cruelly used by Eurystheus, who imposed 
 upon Hercules twelve labors, which form a copious s 
 
 JPCt 
 
 the 
 
 HeT 
 
 ibya 
 
 Eden, garden of, 165 ; d.-; 
 Edgar, King, suppresses | 
 Education, a delightful ta 
 133; -necessary to eir 
 Educated, enjoyments of 1 
 
 : n. <.r Austin, in Suffolk, described, 42, See cut ( 
 111 farm, the early residence of Bloomfield, p. 197. 
 1 (well-pleasing), the muse of music. See Muses. 
 . .■i,,Ma,14. 
 
 iiiL, in the country, by Gray, 28 ■, — village 1 
 1 ; — shades of, 77 ; — of summer, 151 ; —a 
 
 (Cowper) ; composure the gift of evening ; evening- 
 ar, moon, 459 5 —walk, 148 ; with Amanda, 149. 
 i-ninf;,' a pastoral, 153, 154 ; — a sonnet, by Milton, 262. 
 iiiii^s of winter, 399, 401; spent sensibly, 338- See 
 
 , translation, by 
 
 star, 161 ; the ' Evening Star,' 
 i;ui, of a Greek ode, by Bion, 25. 
 , near Stratford, 89 ; its vale described, 89. 
 I eating to be avoided, 201 ; and even satiety, 201 i 
 
— in wine, food, fforli, iitiurioua, 203 ; premature old Rge, 
 203. 
 
 * Exercise,* a poem, 337 — 312 ; forming pArt of Arm- 
 slronK'a An of Preserving Ilenltli. See Armslrong. 
 
 Exercise, 49, 264 ; — in titu garden rccammeiided, 83 } — 
 precepts respecting, 337— 342 ;— various kinds recom- 
 mended, 337, 33S ; — angling, ganlenlng, 338 } — choose 
 that which is most agreeable, 338 i — effects of too sud- 
 den ; cough, astlima, pneumonia, 338, 339 ; avoid triclts 
 of strength (tours de force), and exercise moderately, 
 339; — best times for, 340; — winter re(|Uln« much, 
 summer less, 340 ) cool of summer morning, 340 ; chilling 
 dews, 340 -, — promotes good sleep, 340 -, exercise not 
 upon meals, 341. 
 
 ExhalaUons, cause terapesU, 146. Exile of Siberia, 403. 
 
 Exotics, arrangement of, in green-houi 
 dependence, in gardening, 174 ; tlic 
 tal.'. 174 ; — lli'W to dispose of, 175 
 
 1 the Swale, 
 
 :, 161. 
 
 Kail of the leaf, rawlilatio 
 
 «ls,e5. 
 
 :ai'y, 505. Fairies, 151. 
 
 )allaii, by Bloomfleiil, 73, 74. 
 
 .ns, 306. 
 
 ■ crops, ashes, 203. 
 Ill, 409, 410. 
 rest Eniriaud, 3S2, 383. 
 red ; ' improved ' or spoiled, 86, 87. 
 Famine, 201. See Hunger. 
 .1 artistic, invocation to, 161 ; laslted 
 uids, 162} — truth and memory form 
 
 Farm, buying of a, 55 } — utensils, 56 ; — winter the time 
 to choose one, 55 ; —described, by Dodsicy, 67 ; — good 
 management of, 21 i — tastefully laid out, 63 -, walks, wall 
 fruits, esculents, 03 ; — ruined by sloth, 60, 61 ; — prod- 
 ucts of, 65—70 i— tools, described, 66 ;- Roman, 209 ; 
 ploughs, wagons, sled, tumbril, hurdles, flail, van, 209 ; — 
 farm-yard, described by Dodsley, 57 ; haystacks, wheat- 
 stacks, wood-piles, cattle, i\ ' 
 
 Farm laborers, i»ltinL'limcii, 
 
 Ihroshf; 
 
 
 Feeding the young home and bull, 224. 
 
 Fences, the art of making, 61, 62, 108 ; necessary defects, 
 168 ; sunken, how made, 160 ; for deer, for sheep, ]6D : 
 wire Ibnce, string fence, elm and oak hnce, 169 ; painted 
 fences, 160 ; — living, of children, 170. See I'alnUil. 
 
 Fermo orne (Frcncli), ' an ornamenled farm,' tlie result of 
 landscu|)e gardening, 161 — 184. 
 
 Fcstiviii at »li.ariiii:-tlim>, 4115 i Welsh flower-festival, 496. 
 
 FesSiviI . ,, _, . r II, W.<t Icidlos.441. 
 
 Fevrr-,- 1 ' -.\. IS. 
 
 Kuv.i., , 111.- Ihi-m, 48. 
 
 Field, suuuuur i 
 Fine arts, in tli. 
 Fire, the origin • 
 
 aloud, 265 , — the Happy, a ballad, 443. 
 
 ■ First of December,' an ode 416. 
 
 Fish and oil, food of the Arctics, 202 ; no Tegetablcs, 202. 
 
 Flail, 56. Fla.x, British, 66. 
 
 Flies and fly-time, 196. 
 
 Fleece, the, a poem (three of the four books), by John Dyer, 
 489—609 ; Book I., Sheep, 489-^96 ; Book n., Wool, 
 496-602 i Book III., Woollens, 603—509. 
 
 Fleece, picking and sorting of the, 496, 497 ; moth, wool- 
 
 1684, 
 
 1660. 
 
 lirls, s 
 
 labors of, 210, 211 i tlic cttuk, 211 ; — KuiiKiti fai-mer, his 
 social enjoyments, 221 ; — tlR-Sabiucs ; Romulus, Remus, 
 221 ; tarmer.l coiiBralulnted on their happiness, did they 
 but know it 210, 220 ; cniitiasted with the luxury of pal- 
 aces, 21'. ■-■"': ^ V ' •hf:irraer,220,221i — the suc- 
 cessful I. II' -.- trasted with that of the 
 
 sailorat.il ' — i«:cupation3. enjoyments, 
 
 and aidi ' :;—' Farmer, The,' an ode, 
 
 i,vTI..(ni 11 I ,;. 70 ; — hospitality, and happi- 
 I;' ,-, 11, ! I I Ml.., .j>^ i — fire of i wood, fireplace, 
 
 I loler fireside, 446 ; 'his 
 
 drudiie, UTJ. 
 
 Farmer-boy and sailor-boy, their lots compared, 446. 
 
 Farmer's Boy, the, a poem, by Bloomfleld, 41 — 44, 193— 
 197, 331—336, 445—449. See Bloomfleld ; Giles. 
 
 Farming art, worthy of poetry, 4 ) science and art of, 68 ; 
 its history and progress, 271 ; manuring, liming, marling, 
 nii.vini; of soils, 271, 272 ; witchcraft, the, of siiade and 
 plough, Biiecilote, 272 ; pursue approved methods, ^2 ; 
 
 Farming aivl |.,...rv. 2i1 
 
 Fashioiialil. . i , lil- -. ^0 ;— tollies, 459. 
 
 Fat,unhr.or . l ■' . : 1 .|,rep,600. 
 
 Father ri.nn . , ..t-o (Pope), 294. 
 
 Fear, thi- n . : i -i . i . i J . !■ .ly diseased by alls of the 
 
 mind, 4o2 , — i.tio.-.iw. ...;..i^' truth and innocence, 44«. 
 Feast, at harv.sl lionK-, lOli i simple plenty, 196; frothing 
 
 ale, hasel-nuts, laughter, and song, 196 ; change in iu 
 
 character, 197. 
 
 clergyman of the Church of England, and wrote * The 
 
 Purple Island,' a poetical allegory. 
 FLETrmiiN, .Tons, ■Shepherd's Kve,' an ode, 368. 
 Ki jT. I-. ■- I'lnvBAS, 'Shepherd's Life,' an ode, 488. 
 \ : 1. 449; in whiter, 398. 
 
 i: I M'7o';her8tatuc,179,180;Tisltloil,181; — 
 
 il...w 1. , 1..1, I, of spring, 132 } wilted, 137 ; compared to a 
 
 Fiower-fesiival of the Welsh sheep-shearing, 496. 
 Flowers of the Forest : a ballad of Flodden Field, 367. 
 Fly, artincial, and fly-flshing, 28, 29. 
 Foliage, in landscape gardening, 162, 163. 
 Folly, reproof of it little hopeful, 79 ; dUgust, 80. 
 Folly of many desires, 263, 264. 
 
 
 ; experience a guide as to, 200 ; ani- 
 ' " j vegetable food of the tropics, 
 ;Ions, cocoanuts, pine-apples, 
 acids, palms, plantains, 202. 
 Fools compared to dry clods, 194 ; — and bravoes, 196 ; 
 
 their savage jokes, 106. 
 Footman and farmer, 372 } spruceness versus wortli, 372. 
 Forbes, eulogized, 306. 
 
 Forcing process, of early vegetables, remarks on, 84. 
 Forenoon, In summer, 137. 
 Foresting, how managed In a landscape, 163—172 ; — not 
 
 sung by Virgil, 172, 173. 
 Forests, their use In correcting a too dry locality, 49 ; — 
 their renovation in spring, 131 ; — glooms of, haunts of 
 ' bards and prophets, guardian angels. 
 
 Forest Hymn, by W. 
 
 Forest-trees, 2ts ; — 
 
 growth of, 02 . I 
 
 ilnmliii: of, 
 
 native land, 272, 273 ; 
 
 that of children, 273. 
 Forethought and thrill, 21. 
 Fortitude Inculcated, 64. 
 Fortune, its capriciousness, excmplK 
 
 lOO. 
 Fosse, the, 608. See Watllng-street 
 
Foshil impressions of pHnts, 278 
 FoundliDg, the pauah, 321, d22 
 Fowling, deaci ibed by Pope, 2i2 , by Gay, 30 , by Dehlle, 
 
 266 , depiecited 2bb 
 Fo\, the, and hi-. \ ictmib, 43 , — and &tag-huntinj,' 30 , — 
 
 1 trjpics, 142 , lem- 
 Hjples, 142 , fiiut jjdth 
 
 Fuller^ 
 
 FubCL 
 
 1 th, British, 6t), and r 
 
 Gelons, a people of Scythia, who lived in a wooden city •, 
 supposed to have been originally a Greek trading, priestly 
 colony 
 
 Gems, embiyo buds, or germs. 
 
 Gems, minerdl, fiom.lieat, 137. 
 
 George II , eub^ized, 70. 
 
 Geoigics, \irgil's, by Dryden, 207 — '236.; Georgic I., farm- 
 ing, soils, weather, 207 — 213 ; Georgic II., trees and 
 vines, 213—221 , Georgic III., farm animals, 221—229 ; 
 Geoigic IV , bees, 229—236 ; — described, 29. 
 
 Gemenos valley and its happy winter clime, 274. 
 
 Generosity, incitements to, 268. 
 
 Gepius of Britain, invocation to the, by Dodsley, 55. 
 
 Genms of the place to be consulted in landscape gardening, 
 
 167 
 
 Genms, its spark t 
 Gentle Shepheid, tl 
 Geologists satuize 
 
 ; cherished, 170. 
 
 a pastoral, by A. Ramsay, 103—121 
 r conceit 81 
 
 I um of the green house I 
 
 pr de J mpathy ph losophy 44 repos n^ 194 
 
 ha ve t eniloyments 195 tieid ng down the 
 
 — 1 L t t d d d sappo ted hosp tal tv 
 
 1 lie, 160,— of Eden, 
 
 Guk I. 1 II ,1 u. iv UL.jn,16i— 184 See Ma- 
 
 Gai deiia '*upi 1\ iUb' L nd in, 61 — and Gaidening, by Dods- 
 le\, b3 b4 , — Uenius of, apo'^trjphe to, b4 — and gar 
 den philosophy of i-picui us, b4 , — Dutch, htiffness and 
 angularity ot, t»4 , — vulgar taste in, b5 j — exercise m, 
 healthtul, 338 
 Gaidener, his happiness , friendly rnilues in his art, 238 
 Gaidenmg, landscape, — &ee Mason's Ln^Iibh Gaiden, 161 
 _1S4 — uiikn wn tj Komms, 161 ,— simplicity is true 
 t\ t 11 I* r nmks. Ibl , expensive fully and 
 
 I I I letumeis of, Ibo , Addison, 
 
 1 I -1 nstone. Blown, Ibo, 16b , e\ 
 
 1 It b , — and painting compared, 
 
 I 1 — conversation on ait as ap- 
 
 I I 111 Lngh&h compared, 272 , — 
 — 1 I V tlie story of Alcauder See 
 
 1 ubiished riit ^ 
 
 Lveijwheie an extract, 
 npiehensible, 81; — made 
 things, 475 , 
 
 Li biau flocks, „„6. 
 
 Mrs Barbauld ; — how far 
 :he country, man the town, 
 IS hfe, 478 ; — God's Uni- 
 
 ^eise, the inheritance of the good 1 
 
 Gods, ruial, inv stations of Virgil to, 207. 
 
 Gods of the woild, pleasure and gain, 485. 
 
 Goe, widow, tale of, 408, 409. 
 
 Golden Age, 221, 309, 310, 311 ; — or Shepherd's Age, 495 ; 
 — de&ciibed by Hesiod, 19 ; by Mason, 168 ; by Browne, 
 311 , — contiast of with ours, 168 ; — incredible now, 462. 
 
 GoLDbMiTH, OuvhR, Dr., born in Ireland, Nov. 10,1728, 
 died 4th April, 1774. He was the sixth of the nine chil- 
 dien of Rev Charles Goldsmith, a poor curate, who be- 
 came rector of Lissoy jiavish, Kilkenny "West, and here 
 the poet was brought up, and found the materials for his 
 Deseited ^lllage Graduated at Dublin College, he tried 
 law and medicine, made the tour of Europe on foot, and 
 returned to live by his pen. After extreme poverty, his 
 inrome, in 1773, was five to nine thousand dollars ; but 
 he died ten thousand dollars in debt, though his writings 
 have placed the world infinitely more in his own debt. 
 
 Goldsmith's Deserted Village, 35—38. 
 
 Good feeding of slaves, 439 ; beans, rice, flour, cod, her- 
 rings, 439 
 
 Good man, his quiet life and happy death, 486. 
 
 Goi gonius, his cudgel-play at May-day games, 96 ; defeat, 96. 
 
 Gossiping and idleness, dissuaded from, 22. 
 
 Gout, 24b Government, formation of, 298. 
 
 Glales, wild-wood, of Great Britain, 164. 
 
 Glass bottles , glass-blowing, 387, 388. 
 
 GUtsum, 6b 
 
 Gleaner^, 194 ,— song, by Robert Bloomfield, 290. 
 
 Glib, Dr , =iupplants the midwife, 413 ; bis plea, 413. 
 
 Gloiy, the held of, a pernicious school, 463. 
 
 Glossaiy, Scotch, 26, 336, 186, 540 ; Old English, 16, 34. 
 
 Glow-worm, 151 
 
 GftACEb, the, 8 , three Grecian deities, daughters of Jupiter 
 
 1 trees ; transplanting, 
 L^hilips), 379, 380. 
 
 He wrote Mar^ Qu 
 Walks, Biblical 1 ai 
 Georgics. 
 
529 I 
 
 
 .417— U2. 
 , 351—863. 
 
 anxnAMi's Poor Man's Sabbath, 330. 
 
 Uhaisoeb, Dr. Jiuks, bom In EnuUnd, 1721 ; died In the 
 Wi!St Indict, In 1766. Ue itudled iiiwliclno In KdlnburRh, 
 waa In the army, and aftertrardi practlstNl In London. Uo 
 publiahed a poem on Solitude, in 1796 ; vent to St. Chrl<- 
 
 topher's, W. I., In 1769, c 
 
 ried a lady of fortune, and 1 
 
 GBAiHORR'a Sugar Cane : a poem, 417^442. 
 
 Grand Moguls, dejcription of their rast hun 
 
 QRANriLLK, Lord, addressed by Pope, 291 ; 
 
 Qrapo-presslng, Umo of, 23. 
 
 Grasshopper (cicada, screech-locust): an ode 
 from the Greek of Anacreon, by Oovley, 202. 
 
 Gratitude of the farmer, 06. 
 
 Grave, flower planted, a Swiss custom, 267. 
 
 Gravcdo, what site occasions it, 60. 
 
 Graves before and griefs behind, soliloquy, 373. 
 
 Graves, Kbt. Richakd, born 1716, dial 1804 ; wrote 'Spir- 
 itual Qalxote,' &c. i— his Ballad to the Ilirds, 129. 
 
 Qbav, Thomas, born in Lomlorl, Dec. 20, 1718 ; died May 
 31, 1771. Alter leaving CambridKe, he tnivelletl over 
 Europe with Horace Walpnle. In 17 1-2 he tnai, the degree 
 of Bachelor of Civil Liw, >ii n.„„i,pi.|...., wh.Te he chiefly 
 residwl during tin; r. ■'. : !ii- li: , I '>liii'^ himself to 
 poetry. In 1750 li.- in : i ' 1 : . mi 1757 refused 
 the office of poet l;mi : , — . a:i^ appointed. 
 
 without SOliCiUlUoU,.,. 11, 1., .1 
 
 History, at Caml)ri.l^t,u.;:.t.v . 
 He never read lectures, li"ive\ 
 
 his poems at Stoke, where is his 
 Grit, monumental medallion of, 
 tribute to, 172; — lh"lin..<..fii 
 p.l72,note,«renotinil. . iv 
 in Gray's Brat ediii-H i . . 
 
 "^t-s^'^^StSr^Si^ 
 
 Great Britain, ai)ostropho t.i, on h. 
 egyric on, 149—151 ; h-r -r-., 
 and glory, 390, 391. .< i;,/ 
 
 Great men, of Oreec.- :<■. ! l: 
 
 Greek Husbandry, ai.r: 
 
 20;- worthies, 39!M". - 
 
 GrbrXS. Kobbrt, writ..r, .lr.i;...iu, 
 
 
 !■ i 1/uiguagesand 
 
 He 
 
 tomb 
 
 note, 
 
 llrii'i 
 
 38;- 
 
 rpro 
 
 finished several of 
 
 p. 172; — Mason's 
 K.le?v alluded to at 
 :. J ;s; but appear 
 
 . M':i:.i'r'found, 
 
 -ode on the Spring, 
 
 lucl3,66; — apan- 
 140, IM; Aer 
 i-li; Kngland. 
 
 - Mifhty Dead. 
 I, for (Heslod), 
 
 ' ,,I'i,'V died 1692 ; 
 
 Grief, I 
 
 e, described by Cowper, 84, 85. 
 , by the practice of beneficence, 183 ; — for the 
 
 deal), 260 ; a substitute, 260. 
 Grnngar Hill, In the south of Wales, prospect from, 77 ; — 
 
 described by Dyer. 75, 76. 
 Grog-shops, their inmates ; discord, profanity ; why they 
 
 cannot be suppressed, 461, 462. 
 Grove, the ornamental, and its ruins, 63 ; — a solemn ; for 
 
 contemplation, 141 ; — one described, and its trees, 156 ; 
 
 qualities of the trees, 156. 
 Groves, the Passion of the, of birds, 9. 
 Growth, how to be managed in landscape gardening, 175 ; 
 
 piuiiiiii' an.l thinning, 176 ; changes should not discour- 
 
 ilii 111, ,n \nj.u, UO. Ouava, 417. 
 
 I 145. Gunning, described by Gay, 30. 
 
 I li I I. livG. Crahbe, 392— 394. 
 i,,|., itiii,. J ...:..! i— arts, 251 ; — sloth, jollity, 261; 
 
 proper to, 199 ; 
 
 . elimate and localities, 48 ; — full habit, diet 
 1 habit, 199, 200. 
 ,133. 
 
 Habits should be changed only gradually, 341 ; — corrupting, 
 
 of the poor, through Inconvenient lodgings, &c., 317 ; — 
 
 of a life, broken through with difficulty, 359, 360 ; — of 
 
 plants, to be favored, 85. 
 Hades, the shades, the world of spirits, supposed by the 
 
 ancients to be under the earth. 
 Ilmrnus, the Balcan, a range of mounUins between Thrace 
 
 and Mresia, five hundred miles long, from the Black Sea 
 
 to the Gulf of Venice. 
 Hagley Park, described, with note on, 12 ; by Do.lsley, 64 ; 
 
 cut of, 190. 
 Hall and rain storm, in summer, 148 ; lightning, blasted 
 
 trees, cattle, tower, mountains ; Scotch isles, 148. 
 Hale, Sir Matthew, eulogized by Cowper, 82. 
 Hales, Dr., his theory of nature, and note, 69. 
 Hall of JusUce (or Gypsy) : a ballad, by Crabbe, 
 
 IlAMiLTOs'a Bract of Yarrow, 466, 406 ; — ' Lovc-song,' 18!f. 
 
 Hamlet, the, by Warton, 169. 
 
 Haiipiness of the country life (Virgil), 218— 2:21 ; — pursuit 
 
 Happy Fireside : a ballad, 000 ; — mnrrlagea, 372, 373. 
 Happy .Mean, the, by Cheetliam, 334. 
 llarcourt, Karl of, address to (l-hllli>s), 3»4. 
 Hare, the, tamed by Cow|)e 
 ing, 136; — h 
 
 '"; whipping In, throwing off. 
 
 eller, ploughman, shepherd, villager, 349, 350 ; shifts, 
 kllM at last, 350, 351 ; Orpheus, 361 , the hounds' |ht- 
 quislte, 351 ; — hunting, 20, 30 ; in Windsor Forest, 292. 
 
 nnrehell, 132. llnrley, Robert, 383. 
 
 Harmony of styles In buildings, 181. 
 
 Harmonies and contrasts of nature, 278. 
 
 Harp of Propheey, 4S3. 
 
 ollad, by K. Bloom- 
 
 li,;l,l.-n =:,i, L.I..,, 1."^ 
 Harvest-li..iiie f.ast, or llie 1 
 
 Held, 323, 329. 
 Haunts of meditation, 63 ; — solemn, of nature, 307. 
 Hawk's nest, 8 ; hawking, dcserilK-d'by Gay, 30. 
 Hawthorn, spring revival of, 131 ; — blossorahig, 444 ; — 
 
 how cultivated and defended, 61. 
 Hay, how to protect it from wet, mow-bummg, and sponto- 
 
 Haying or Hay-making, described by Gay, 27 ; — by Dods- 
 
 ley, 66 ; — by Thomson, 139. 
 Hazel and wiki olive to be rooted up, 217 ; — nuts, 303. 
 Health : an eclogue, by T. Pamell, 264. 
 Health, Armstrong's Art of Preserving. 
 Health, laws of, subject of the poem Art 
 
 See Armstrong ; — addres 
 
 of Hygela, or healUi, 47 
 
 on, 461 ; — nice rules of are !■ 
 
 strong, 837 : -?- of the laborer, 33' 
 
 337 ; —general precepts suffice, 339. 
 Heartless obsequies, 409. 
 Heat, 139, 140 ; general elTects of, 146 ; — effects 
 
 141—146 ; drought, earthquakes, volcanoes, 
 
 lightning, 162. 
 Hkathcotr, Sia John, 603. 
 Heathenism, rebukeil, note, p. 7. 
 Heaven, spring of, 405. II '■ r 1 i- 
 
 Hetlges, sloe, holly, hawthftn,. I, a • . 
 
 tiir-oil, acacil^ privet, earniiti i. ; -: . I .. ', cactus, 
 wild liquorice, myrtle, 422. 
 
 Hedgerow, birds and flowers, 61 ; — crali-lrees, use of, 63. 
 
 Hedging and ditching, 01, 03. 
 
 Hklkn, Hblbxi, a proverb for beauty, daughter of Leila 
 and Jupiter, under the form of a swan. Besiiles being 
 carried off by Theseus, she had some thirty distinguished 
 princes, as suitors, one of whom, Menelaus, King of 
 Sparta, was her choice. The others, having agreeil to 
 abide by and defend her choice, took up arms against 
 Troy, when Paris, the Trojan guest of Menebius, eloiK'd 
 with Helen to 
 
 HKti.K, and her bnither Phry.x 
 
 , dcMrted, 
 
 through the air. Helle fell 
 Greeks 
 
 Helicon, the fount of t 
 muildled, 77. 
 
 Uellotiopes 137. 
 
 Ubxaxs, Mrs. Prucia DonnrnRA, born Browne, at Liver- 
 piKil, Sept. 26, 1793, and die<l May 16, 1836, aged 41 She 
 llrst publishetl In her tifleenlh year, and again, In 1812, a 
 poem callwl the Domestic Affections. The same year she 
 married Capuin Ilemans, who in 1818 went to luUy, and 
 they never met again. 
 
Hunp, 1 
 
 llESRY, 
 
 Henry ' 
 
 Portugal, gives impulse I 
 Henry VII., 390. 
 
 Home, origin of, 152 ; — the sweets of, 298 ; — of Thyr 
 tlie herdsman, and Patty, the milkmaid, 69 ; — best si 
 for homes ; — bad localities for, 48. See Homestead. 
 
 Home-brewed ale, 195. 
 
 Homely picture of a sterile tract, 255, 256. 
 
 H.>[ii'st-;i<l, sunny, nf PytT, V7 ; — what site for one is tc 
 M\ ' :<l'il, 4^ ■- — ^r II i'l ■'!"!, th'' country squire, 89. 
 
 II.. I,. -■ I.. ,!i. .1. -. v:i . .i i.> l'i,;li|,s •, peace of, 384. 
 
 prose writer i 
 
 ..)i .if a li""kseller, and born 
 ■ ' I in ivoo. Bred to en- 
 Ill, Wl.i.iw and Oddities, 
 
 . . 'I'ldothunmHs't" 
 ■l.inh, J... -' Autumn,' 375. 
 ;;K.,.,i..i.c, I.,!,- and fruition, a 
 J -,— deferred, 333;— an excellent 
 
 RATics FLACCts, the famous Roman 
 He died A. D. 8, a few weeks after 
 whom he declared he could not sur- 
 
 
 right ; died 1565. 
 son? (xn.), 113. 
 
 til 1 be- sad wlifu ;i husband I hae?' a song (v.), 
 
 :i33. 
 
 , , erring, sympathy with, enforced, 81. 
 and Cam rivers, 177. 
 
 , of a rtsidence, dispelled by good fires, 49 } — 
 uf, OQ Iiealth, modified favorably by good wines, 
 i-;it3, temperance, exercise, activity, 49 ; — of the 
 !<■, residence in unhealthy, 48. 
 
^ 
 
 scr*9 for January, 449 ; February, 486 ; Slaroh, 31 ; 
 
 April, 70; May, 133 i June, 184 ; July, 204; AukusI, 
 
 2»S ; Sa-'pteinlxr, 310 ; OctolKr, 335 ; November, 3U1 ; 
 
 December, 442. 
 nuaken, Uio corn : a ballad, by John O. Wblttier, 3M, 
 
 357. 
 Hyacinths, D. Hyades, a constellation, 23. 
 
 Hydra, the, 285, 288. 
 UvGEiA, the goddess of health. Invoked, 
 
 daughter uf iEsculaplus, and cummonly worshipiwd 
 
 Ideal, in landscape gardening, 164. 
 
 Idleness, 21. Idolatry of natnie, 478. 
 
 Idols, of men, 482, 483 ; political idols, 483. 
 
 lilumea, Kiiom, between the Dead and Ked Seas. 
 
 Ignorance, its disadvautjiges, 278. 
 
 II Penseroso (the thouitlilful), u poem, by .Milton, 240, 241. 
 
 Immigrants, how a blessing, 508. 
 
 Immigi'utiun, of weavers into England from Flanders, 507 ; 
 its effect on Bviti^h fabrics and commerce, 508 ; employ- 
 ments for aliens, 503. 
 
 'Immortality," an extract li-om the works of Edward 
 Young, 358. 
 
 Immortality, brought to light, 131 ; solves the problems of 
 time, 405. 
 
 Imprisonment for debt, 399. 
 
 Improvements, 380 ; of land, 61 ; of old family estates, 
 86, 87. 
 
 Incubation, of birds, 10. 
 
 Indian summer, the, 350, 344, 343. 
 
 Independence of the U. S., 442. 
 
 Indians (Uindoos), character of, 251 ; Indus, 143. 
 
 Indifference to human woes and progress, is inhuman, 81. 
 
 Indoor pleasures, 3S8 ; December ; busom dances, 388 ; 
 
 Industry r... 
 
 298;-- 
 Inequal,,, 
 Ineyeiiit: III, :. 
 Infant, .l.-r - ' . 
 
 .1, Jl , ^ rural, 268 ; — the civilizer, 
 .,,,.. summer, autumn, 299. 
 
 ,1 i^ilit,.:3 0f, 269, 279;— reflections 
 
 ,167. 
 
 liij;iTiiiy, ijiniiMl, of mankind, 80 ; — causes of, 432. 
 
 Insect-life, its inlinitude, 138 ; in the fen, leaf, forest, boughs, 
 fruit, pool, air, liquids, 138 ; late of, 138, 139 ; its won- 
 ders, 360. See Insects. 
 
 Insects, 104 ; habits of, 194 ; — north-born, dreadful rav- 
 ages of, 4 ; how to destroy them, 4 ; — of summer, de- 
 scribed, 137, 138 ; fato of, 138, 139 ; — wonderful con- 
 trivances bestowed on them, 283 ; — destructive to cane, 
 425 ; remedies, 425, 426. 
 
 Inspiration of the rural author (BloomfieUl), 41. 
 
 Instinct, of- love, in spring, ascribed to the Creator, 11 ; — 
 of animals, explained (Virgil), 232 ; — that of the roe- 
 buck ; of the hare, 348 ; — lessons from it, 482. 
 
 InU-mperance and its curses, 203 ; — the cruel cu 
 poor, 461 ; — some of its horrors, 389 ; quarrels, sic* 
 gout, stone, atrophy, dropsy, 389 ; the Centaurs, 
 patriotic prayer, 389. 
 
 Interest to rural jiictures, how to give, 286, 287, 288. 
 
 Internal improvements, for trade, 509. 
 
 ; of the 
 
 Invocation to the powers of poetry, 314. 
 Iron Age, the, Hesiod's description of, 20. 
 Iron, British, 66 ; smelting of iron ore, 66. 
 Irrigation, 63 ; — of soils, 20S ; Mysia, Oargarus, 208 ; 
 artificial, in dry climates. 274, 275 ; — of the earth, 3 
 Irritable, cautions to the. 455. 
 Isis, a river flowing by O.\ford, 198, 294. 
 Islandof life, the, 360, 361. 
 Islander (Omai), of the South Seas, 251, 252. 
 Isroarus, a vine-covered mountain of Thrace. 
 
 Istcr, the river Danube. 
 
 ' lullan Cot : ■ a sonnet, by Samuel Roger*, 324. 
 
 Italy, praises of, by Virgil, 215 ; lu climate and products 
 preferred to all others, 215 ; iu cities, seas, lakes, and 
 rivers, laudetl, 215 ; lu various races of men, 216 ; great 
 men, 210 ; ajKntrophe to, 216. 
 
 ■ I yield, dear lassie, you have won :' a song (vi.), 107. 103. 
 
 Jack, the Oiant-killer, 316. 
 
 wild (Cowper), 364 ; Oranby's offer, 
 
 Jail committee, 390 ; Impr 
 
 Jamaica lauded, 418 ; Its red ruiil, 418. 
 
 James I. (VI.), 390 ; union of Scotland and Kngland. 300. 
 
 Jaundice, localities favorable to, 48. 
 
 Jay, 132 ; — lova-song of, 9. 
 
 Jealousy, torments of, described, 13, 14. 
 
 JliMKS, W., Rkv. Dh., IMndaric Oile on Winter, 456. 
 
 Job's comforters, mo<lern, satirized, 362. 
 
 JoxES, an American writer In the U. S. Literary Gazette. 
 
 JuNKS'a Autumnal Uymn, 358. 
 
 Jove, used for ' the rain,' 21. Sec Jupiter. 
 
 Joys of wedded love, 333. 
 
 Judgment day, pursuits of men In view of, 365. 
 
 Julius port. Bee Avernus. 
 
 June, tlie month of, by Thomson, 136. 
 
 Junio and Theana, sl<iry of, 427, 428. 
 
 Jussmo, the great French botanist, 281, 382 ; dellgbu ol, 
 282. 
 
 Justice's hall, country, 259. 
 
 JcpiT&K, or JoVK, 19 ; the supreme god of the Greek Olym- 
 pus, the classical heaven. Philosophically, all from the 
 earth upwards. 
 
 Kansas and the ilisslssippi, 500. 
 
 Kate, craxy, 250. Kennet, river, 294. 
 
 Kennel, the, precepts Concerning, 346. Sec Hounds. 
 
 Kent, the landscajK gardener, 166. 
 
 Kiftsfale llundrul, near Stratford, Knghind, the scene of the 
 May-day games, 90, 96. 
 
 KiMa, St., IhiwesUTnmost island of the Hebrides, on whose 
 clilla innumerable birds nestle, 10, 11. 
 
 Kiiidn> ss and humanity to slaves, 437, 439 ; — to animals, 
 4S0. 
 
 King and <iueen of the May, 99 ; — their thrones, 99. 
 
 Kirk, gaffer Nathan, and his young nurse bride, 369. 
 
 Knaves, gentlemanly, caressed by society, 80 ; — severity 
 to little, lenity to great, 252. 
 
 Knoll of llowers, 85. 
 
 Knowledge, human, has its assigned limits, 81. 
 Labor, 249 ; labor, war, iieacc, and commerce, 137, 138 ; — 
 labor lemls art, in beautifying a desert, 162, 249 ; — Its 
 dues and claims of, 196, 197 ; — the source of wealth, 55 ; 
 a blessing, 249 ; labor, care, and piety, necessary to useful 
 results; weeds, darnel, birds, 20D ;—iU-health, 2S« ; 
 aches and ails attendant on toil, 256 ; cx|iosure, 256 ; — 
 276; — simplic- 
 ity, e 
 
 claims, 197 ; asleep, his happiness, 76 ; — 1 
 
 gooil, 199;- see [leasant, 220;— true sym|uithy with 
 
 him, 255 ; — exposures of 1 
 
 manly pride, food, often stin 
 
 worn-out laborer derided, a 
 
 266; his despair, 257 ;— youthful, 250 ;— ii^.-.i. .-,, , 
 
 — pau|>er, his despairing complaint, 267 ; bnn.il ■ i. -■> . 
 
 — sympathy with the, 445 — H9; — lament ..t m' , I'T 
 laborers should be looked after, 83 ; — scanty eiint ri- .f. 
 in winter, 460, 461 ; — criminals and paupers often more 
 comfortable than the, 461. 
 
 Labyrinths, i 
 
 ard ; heartless obsequies ; 
 Lakes of Italy, 216 ; Como, Garda, Lucrinus, / 
 
 Julius, 216, 216 ;— ruin by outbursting of, 278. 
 L'Aliegro (the merry) : a poem, by Milton, 230, 240. 
 Lambkins, innocence, sympathy, 44 ; doometl to death, 44 } 
 
 — treatment of. May-feeding, 402 ; care o< new-dropped, 
 
 403. 
 Lambs, at play. 11,44; the butcher, 44 ; — nlghl-lkllen, 
 
 care of, 448 ; bereavo^l ewes, how to assuage their grief, 
 
 448, 449. See Lambkins. 
 Lanilholders, exhorted to honesty ami liberality with the 
 
 young farmer, 55 ; — address of the veteran hunter to. 
 
532 L I INDEX. 
 
 LO 
 
 LandlorJ, anJ tlisappoiiitcil farm.-r, SOO, 301 ; — the wicked, 
 
 LUlleton. See 
 
 Lyttelton. 
 
 Anrtve,;- (-■„M.,.t. J,« 
 
 
 
 Ian.l-r ,.„...!>, .1.- .:. ..1 ■•:.:■- 
 
 ' M.. ..,. 1 
 
 .',1 W . ....... ... ... .....; II .1 .. !.. ...her. 
 
 Larid..M|.. ,..; , , , , II ^ •: 
 
 |. 
 
 , ■ i , ...... I.y 
 
 hy'y"-:-'' '^^ ' ; ■'■ >■ u.Z,u.\ ',,'■/ ^ ,.m:. 
 
 
 '...;..!,.■.,..;„.,:'., ■;,/.,: ..„',; .■i:,n..'h'li'r8 
 
 ''1^^^'' ■''^' '■'''''' '^^^ 
 
 
 . I,..', l.'sV'''lo.,k'l."'l',i's 'b,..'d, alurdi'edc'.f a 
 .. 3-23, 324. 
 
 ■Isi, ,',;.,"„ , '■ . .•,:.'. 1 V--'b', --uUrWiaj 
 
 \, 
 
 ,,, . ',' ,.l,!,i,'.,. „n.. ,i..w'ril..-d. 49. 
 
 hi '. ~ .1-1 1' ... 1 . 
 
 
 - . .1 1 ,...,.-..„..., 418, 419; low 
 
 Lan.l-,.,|..-.n.i . 1 ..„- in, 63; models of, 
 
 ' . .. '■ 11 - . 
 
 
 64;-r.|,|.„- ,,.-... ..L. to Romans, 161; — 
 
 
 .. , 1 -. , ..... ,.. 1 ;., .1 - 1 .., 49 ;'a choice 
 
 reform ,„..iu. >■■ 1 ,, 1... . ,..,.. ■„ on, by Mason, 161 
 
 ■-; . ■■ 
 
 : "■ , 
 
 Laml'h.'l.. ;■■>." '""■ 
 
 l',";, ;',',' !' ;, ' 
 
 ■\.'j,] '^' 
 
 LaiiKu-.l...., ...i:.il..l, j;.-., .-i.i.i. 
 
 
 i. 1 I' .... -l.ry of ; Pan's pursuit, 292 ; 
 
 Lai.lai.l ml l-.iiiiK, ...Ml, ,-i..,l as iM sheep-raising, 493. 
 
 
 
 Lai.hinl , , I"' . , .:,.|..:, HH ; „. ., 1 heni hghtS, 403. 
 
 1, . . ... 
 
 1 . . 1 ; — apnstrn],hr- t.', S7 '; — 
 
 Liirm-, 1'.. ni. 1 .,..., :. Ic,lv. 
 
 
 
 Lark. I-I I. •... ,:.,■. ....... |.i 
 
 
 ■-,.', ,....i'..l .. ...|.'.'l, s7 ; — ' 
 
 LiK.-,..i 1 . 1. , , . 1. , ... l: ....;. - 
 
 
 J . . ....:. .. .,lp- 
 
 it .'I'l' .^ 1 ... 1 1 , 1 
 
 
 . , . . . . . ■ . -hip. 
 
 Lat".-...' .'.■'.:.':. . . 1 .' 1 . .: 1 ••. .1 .i.i;.. .,. 
 
 1 . ■■'/■■;■ 
 
 1. .. ''■''■■ -V|.|.. „,l.,l,...JL■ss- 
 . i . ll.,waoi.. C.llege, n. 1826 
 
 La";!,':.'. . ,. ..... " '.'.VeasL'.'a'M. 
 
 Mr.'L.'w. '■ 
 
 ,.,pl.sh himself for it. In 
 
 Law,,.. . . - ,.,„„.., 03. 
 
 1S3D 1... ... 
 
 i 1 . 1 ssor of modern languages 
 
 Law. '..I..,,,, ,,, .......... 
 
 
 II .. 1 .l|,;gc, which office he re- 
 
 Law» ui ,.,.i„. , .„..= -= ,:,!., Led tor a knowledge of the O'ir- 
 
 s,','.' 1 '„Y]^ 
 
 
 gil), .'JO. 
 
 
 \. . 1 |. . '.Mil. :■!. .■..■.,- \,.-l..r's 
 
 Lazy in-ople sleep ill, 341 ; industrious, better, 341. 
 
 
 1 . ........ i.llall. 
 
 Lead, lint.sh, GO. 
 
 
 
 Leah Cousins, st.iry uf, 412, 413 ; her plea ; supplanted and 
 
 1. . : 
 
 .... .. i.. ,....! , .see 
 
 takes to driuli, 413. 
 
 
 
 Leander, force of love in, 225. He was a youth of Abydos, 
 
 1.. '. .-'il. .'.. . 
 
 ■1 . . , 1. .,.,....,.. ... "i- 
 
 beloved by Hero, for whom he su-ara frequently across 
 
 
 ...i, , ..!..... ^ ,-,04. 
 
 the Dardanelles strait j but, in attempting it one stormy 
 
 
 
 night, he was drowned. 
 
 
 
 Learned, follies of the, 81 ; arraigned at the judgment-day. 
 
 1,' .. . .. .:. 
 
 . . :,.... . :..ir,,f birds. 
 
 81 i — their labors weighed, 366. 
 
 
 
 Leaves, flowers, and fruits, 59. 
 
 
 ... .......!.. ....,ri,- 
 
 Lebanon and the Syrian shore at sunrise, 171. 
 
 
 .. 1 i,,.-re 
 
 Lee, river, England, 50, 394. 
 
 
 
 Leeches, p„|„„.al, S7. I Is, described, 506. 
 
 
 
 Leisure. ,. I. ,-..,,,i.| ,, , .,,,,1 enjoyments, 83 i — 
 
 13;"— l:',,> 
 
 
 d,ll ,, lore it needs 365. 
 
 
 
 Len,,.,... ...... . . l:l. 
 
 and 'ha.-,','," 
 
 .,,■,! ,,..... . I .; ...is- 
 
 Less.,,,.. I.„, .,. ,.., .l„i., ... 
 
 
 
 Level, . !...„:,, !.„„. i.u,.,L.i,l.,;,c.,pse, swamp, 167, 168. 
 
 
 
 Lewdness, ,lissi.a,le,l from, by i:|,i,-iirus, 64. 
 
 
 , 1 .... love, leipe, andspri.,g,44. 
 
 Liberty, and law, 11 ; — and Cato, 144 ; — queen of the 
 
 L . . \i . 
 
 .,l,..,lmne,152. 
 
 arts, 149 ; — struggles for, 471 ; her cause the cause of 
 
 
 ..,,l,ed,13. 
 
 humanity, 471 ; life without it a burthen, 472 ; Christian 
 
 
 ..,.,..■ ..dapted to man's, 250; clilT, vale. 
 
 liberty, 472, 473. 
 
 
 
 Libra, the scales. See Zodiac ; Ceres. 
 
 Love.'.f .,„l„, 
 
 . .„, ,,.,-:,!, 4.14 ; displayed even in cities. 
 
 Licentiousness, in country as well as city, 259 — its detesta- 
 
 
 
 ble effects, 454. 
 
 Love, pl.ysi.„ 
 
 . l..,.....i. -1 , „. the lioness, bear, tiger. 
 
 Liddal stream and Armstrong's childhoo,l, 337. 
 
 
 ..„■. ■.■.'1, JJ., . I„.:....lei-, 225; in the ly.i.x. 
 
 Life, picture of a happy on,', U ; - pl,vsi,.„l, ll„. son tl„. 
 
 w,,ll, ,'l.,..., 1. 
 
 
 mediumof, 50; — a well.],,, r,„.., ,,,... 1, ., ,. , ,i 1 .,-, 7r, . 
 
 
 
 — proper business of. Si; ; .', , , h. . 
 
 
 
 decay, 204;— love of, J.,,, ,- ,. , ... 
 out-doors, its health and l,.,|.|.,,,. .. .... ,..,, ,,.,,.. ,. 
 
 ■'.-■': 
 
 .'.'■■ ...' '■..'■ .. o....n::;'^o 
 
 
 
 , 1 ' . .... '•. . ..;., , ...-ml.t- 
 
 precepts of, 453'; —all life is^fro;n"liod,'47S ; — vdligi ; 
 
 
 ■■■■■'' ;-"""si"g 
 
 see Village Life. 
 
 
 
 Light, apostrophe to, by Thomson, 136. 
 
 1, 
 
 
 Lightning, 146 ; story of its effects. Celadon and Amelia, 
 
 
 - 1 .. 1 I . country charms 
 
 146, 147. 
 
 
 ... 1 .. 11....".. ...|,l;.l, -cures for, 464. 
 
 Lily, the, 8. Lima, described, 275. 
 
 
 
 Limagna (Central France), its e.-ctinct volcanoes, 279 ; - 
 
 1. . . . ' 
 
 .'l|. .0,188. 
 
 DeliUe's feelings on revisiting this home of Ids childhood. 
 
 
 . ... l,i.-,ls, 9 ; — of the shepherd, 314. 
 
 2S7. 
 
 
 , ,,.,1 ...an to be inculcated in children. 
 
 ' Line ofl.eaotv.' 1(17. 
 
 
 
 Lineia. ,1,.. I.,„ ,,'..,. V.(: 177 . . ■.,!... .i.,l.,..| ,'.. ., 177 
 
 
 .... llio panacea for human ills, 366. 
 
 Lir,...^. ! . i ■ . . 1 . . ■ . . 1-.. 
 
 ' 
 
 ...!-•, 168. 
 
 Lin... ,.■ ■ 1 ..... ... : . .- .' 
 
 
 l;ii...s,'262. See Melancholy. 
 
 Liler,,l„,., ,:,.^^... . .1. ...,, -■.; . II.. 
 
 1. - ...... 
 
 i..-l.!..,ul3, as localities for the sugar-cane. 
 
 k...d . ....... 1....U.J l.., = .jr ...... ....... 
 
 ns,.,.,. 
 
 
Lucy ; It bullad, by UloomBekl, 129, 130. 
 
 Lucy, the uilller'a ilaughtcr, her atnry, 317, 318. 
 
 Lucy nnd Colin, a bnlliul, by TlckcU, 73. 
 
 LusiUnia, the classic name of t>artugal, 145. 
 
 Luteola, 6S, note. 
 
 Lutetian, Parisian j Lutclla, that is, Mud-town, naa the 
 ancient name of Paris, as being on a muildy Ulanil. 
 
 Luxuries of the W. Indies, 435. 
 
 Luxurious sin and laborious virtue, contrasted, 374. 
 
 Lu.\ury, a curse to the poor and tlie country, 37 ; the ruin 
 or nations, 38. 
 
 Luxury of woe, the, 183 ; time the soother, 183 ; — temper- 
 ance is true, 20O ; — and vice of cities, 252 ;<— and the 
 Hne arts, 293, 299 ; — and literature, 865. 
 
 Lybian pastures, flocks, prairies, and nomades, 220. 
 
 Lycaean, of Lycmus, a mountain in the soutti-wtst of Ar- 
 cadia. Jupiter was born on Its summit, and htul here an 
 open air attar, with an inviolate precinct, into which if 
 one entered he died within the year. From it the whole 
 of the Morea is visible. 
 
 Lycidas : a pastoral monoily, by Milton, 241—243. 
 
 Lydlan, belonging to Lydia, a famous kingdom, which in- 
 cluded Asia Minor to tlie Ualys. Cyrus, King of Persia, 
 conquered it from the rich Crffisus. Surdis was the 
 capital. 
 
 LvTTKLTOs, Lord Qboroi!, a general author niiil poet, of 
 Hagley, in Worcestershire, near the U';isi.nv./,-* ut' ^^1.■||. 
 stone. Becomingsecretaryt'tli i'ii ' -; \^ ' 
 able to benefit his literary fii' . i 
 In 1741 he married Miss i.u , I , , 
 
 Ave years afterwards, gav. .-,,,, -. . , 
 
 -rejected as pernicious, by 
 
 Whigs being 
 
 treasury, and afterwards privy 
 
 of the exchequer, and a peer. He died Au;_'ust 22, 1773, 
 
 aged 64. lie wri.f^ a lr,-riti5e nn tlie Conv,-,-,^i..n of Paul, 
 
 ahistoryof Ilfi.'ri II II - I'l 'i -n- t.i II, .in-./n's Co- 
 rioianus isdeeni'^i I. ! ' M iiy. 
 
 Lyttbltox, or Ln 1 1 . >■ l ' , ■ ; ;il no- 
 
 bis poem of' the riv-iL;i ; 1. ,■ ,.ii'.i;; Ml, 111 I -lui.arts, 
 187—190. 
 
 Machinery, labor-saving, an advantage to the operative, 504. 
 
 Mackenzie, 492. Madder, British, 66, and note. 
 
 M.V.CKNAS, Virgil's patron, address tn, 2U ; another, 222. 
 
 iiig!>, greens ; shelly ocean sands i ] 
 ploiighctl In ; turidps, 01. 
 )U», 272. 
 -a, Lord, eulogy of him, 259, 260. 
 
 in island in the .Minclo, a 
 tributary of the Po } the poet Virgil was born at or near 
 It, and is hence called the ' Mantuan Swain,' 8. 
 
 Marble, its formaUon, 279, 280. 
 
 March, month of, 1— 40 ; — Spenser's Eclogue for, 15. 10. 
 
 March : an 04le, by Bryant, 25 ; — husbandry of, by Tusser, 
 31. See Husbandry. 
 
 Marcley Hill, sUding of, 377. 
 
 Mares, brood, care of, 223; — Impregnated by the n-e^it 
 wind, 225. 
 
 Maria, wife of Mason, tribute to, 161. 
 
 Marian, Mariana, or Maid-Marian, 34. 
 
 Marina, her love and despair, 155, 156 -, — restored by wati-r- 
 gods, her adventures, 156. 
 
 Marjoram, indicative of a good house-site, 49. 
 
 Market-night : a ballad, by R. Bloomneld, 443. 
 
 .Maill...r"iii.-li, alluded to, 70. 
 
 Ml \ - 1. named Publlus VIrgilius Maro. See Virgil. 
 
 ii ippy one, 14 •, a selfish one, 14 ; — or no .Mar- 
 ■ insion, Peggy and Jenny, 106, 107 j — a pru- 
 ; . ippy one, 373 ; — Reuben and llachel, 373; — 
 I \l li.aia slaves, 441. 
 
 .Maiiiai.'''s ; a poem, forming part of Parish Register, by 
 Crabbe, 369—374. 
 
 Marry prudently, 369. 
 
 Mars and Venus, allusion to, 91. 
 
 Martyrs, glorious, 474. Mary, tti.- fann-firl, l'i:>. 
 
 MiSOS, Wll.l.HM, I... -11 l7j.-..-lr.l IT'-; I . . I ■ I',. 
 
 i longest work is the 1 
 
 , 161—184. 
 
 lings between, 106. 
 
 I tlie May, 81. 
 
 • Seven Stars, 210 
 .nut loie, 13,— 
 - indiLtsing, 313 
 
 ind his worKs 
 ^ meats of, J20 , 
 erest, S88 i — In 
 - worship, 470 ; 
 
 M i\ In III kill, ml queen, and dance, 90; —feast, de- 
 
 stnbud, 97 , — hiinl} a-Maying, by Dryden, 102. 
 Ma>,avvalk in, with Amanda, 8 ; — morning, by Milton, 
 
 102 , — riign of an ode, by Percivnl, 101, 102. 
 Maj's Iluibnndry, 1J3 Sec Husbandry. 
 Mi!\n, Dk , 1 distinguished physician and writer on llie 
 
 pi igut 145 , tribute to him, 47. 
 Ml ulon in spring, 8 
 
 Ml. iiiiii.!,s and disappointment in town life. 
 Miais, avoid much In spring, 201 ; — IwUed, when to Ik 
 
 used, 49 , — bi-st age and condition of, for eating, 19 J ; 
 
 stnll-ful eattlL, unliiallhy, 199. 
 Meditation, haunts of, 63, 140. Visionary world, the, 140. 
 Mech iiile the, and retired statesman, 363. 
 M h \ . iiui de, 148 Mediclnals, British, 66. 
 
 I Ills of Britain, 67. 
 
 t free, in the country, 268 i charity, 26S. 
 V liat localities produce it j how prmluced, 4S •, 
 I R, 240, 241 i In autumn, 306, 307 ; — as a 
 I rllled, 302 ; needs symi«tllj-, 338. 
 Mn Milt l...rd,conipllmenle.lbyThoni5oii,135, and note. 
 MKLKAi.fB Set note on p. 46. 
 Mfi f A(.va'< Spring, Iraiisialed by 
 Mtila, a sniali ri% -' '" 
 Mei rosifsi!, the 
 
 Mei > IL, OcnernI, govirnor of West India islands. 
 Memnos, an anclint King of Ethiopia and Bgypl, whow 
 gmnisuiiue 
 
 • of Northern Italy. 
 
 and muse of Trageily. S-.v 
 
 Medlnet Abou, In Egypt, 
 tlie Nile. By some amngemenc of son- 
 stones, which expanded by heat, the sUlue uHereil | 
 al sounds when first struck by the rays of the 
 
534 
 
 1 the vale of Cham- 
 
 Ion, 61. 
 
 land, note, p. 89. 
 
 , balls, &c., 341 ; — 
 
 meek-eyed, 136 ; 
 
 lil ... 111.. Mini .11^ iii.iiM.i i.i-iii. I —111 the Golden 
 
 M I l.iistoral, 153 i — iisonnet, liy Otw,iy, 154. 
 
 .1 . . , III'.- god of sleep and dreams ; represented as an 
 I.I. w ith two large wings on his shoulders, and two 
 
 .M.i.,. ,11 ., ... choice, 88 -, account of Moschus, note, p. 26. 
 Musbi.s, cullection of, 282 ; varec, lichen, agaric, punk or 
 
 Mostyn, Mr., dedication of ' Cider ' to him, 37V. 
 
 Miitliir's sl.iiy '.'f Sally Gray, 325—327 ; —death, story of, 
 
 , 412. 
 
 e, 160. 
 
 
 =■, 49 i - 
 
 huiv ti 
 
 fci'd for 
 
 226, 
 
 :.;,..:il 
 
 S3, seat, 
 ivalk ho 
 
 pails, song, 4 
 
 3; — 
 151. 
 
 484. 
 
 e, wind, 
 he rioK, 
 
 317,313 
 V';'-'-|ii' 
 
 ,341. 
 
 
 
 
 JiLTUN, JoHS, born 
 1674. He took the de-iv, . >i \ . ' , 
 
 1632, and iluriiig the next Iw- \-.m-'ii niMM v>i..i' 
 
 Comus, and the poems at pp. ^.;j— J4;^. in luio Ur m.u- 
 ried Miss Powell, who left liim u untiith alier. ^h*: w- 
 turned, after two years, and, kneeling for pardon, tlit^y 
 were reconciled, and lived together till 1652, when slie 
 died, and he iiniiitdiatrly Miarrifil a second wife, and 
 
 ther-.j ■.■.M',>ii ,iii.i i:, ]<■:■] Piii.h^hed his Defence of 
 
 the Km. \- . .. !■.. - l/.-t in 1667. 
 
 aiLT('\ I I i , ' I I I - . 111..- herald of a true 
 
 still f 
 
 ■ Pallas, also Pahthenia (the virgin), 
 risdom and tutelar deity of Athens, ' 
 her temple, the noble Parthenon. See 
 
 MuWLT, th-.', &ij. Mowing, by Dodaley. See Haying. 
 
 Mules, care of, 431 ; —diseases of, 431. 
 
 Mum, the Belgians' drink, 386. 
 
 Muii.lungo, the retu-ed toper, his fate in the May-day fray, 
 
 sheep, its symptoms and 
 Ireek poet of great 
 
 e, 67, I 
 
 antiquity. 
 1 chiefly at Athens, and the por- 
 hich he lived was called Museum, 
 d ' museum,' from a theatre there 
 is given as 1426 B. C, when his 
 
 ia, over comedy, and Polymnia, 
 ,uric. Pieria, in Macedonia, was 
 )Sophically thoy were personifica- 
 
 Mines of Britain, 66 ; coal, fullers' earth, building-stone, 
 
 Ume, lead, iron, 66. 
 Minister. See Pastor ; Clergyman ; Parson. 
 Mirth ; a ymem. Se*; L'All.-;;!-.., 2?.9, 210. 
 Misa-:ithn- nn-l Kv.-vl-r. ^u-vv nf, hv r.„vp-.,-, 4«1 . 
 
 Miscllifl ..I ;,n,i,i.ih rl, n .r,. ,,■.■- ;, i|. - ,,. ..'ih' .iv, P-, 
 
 Mole. 
 
 ,294. 
 
 Monk'V, l|.-imi.iiw iM Wrst India cane-tields, 424. 
 Moiioluii^ , Li- 1)L' itv'Jiikd Hi t;ardeuiug, 167- 
 Monsters of the dt-L-p, uih'cts of love upon the, 11. 
 Montane, the exile, his plantation, 423 ; a model of a good 
 
 planter, 422, 423 ; hospitality of, 423 ; his slaves and 
 
 mules, 423. 
 
 ; ;i lover gay : ' a song (xsl), liS. 
 is a young thing : ' a song (l), 103. 
 je greenhouse, 85. 
 
 ter-nymphs, beautiful girls, deities, supposed tc 
 mntains, streams, and springs. They were hekl 
 eneration ', goats and lambs were sacrificed te 
 li Iib;itiniis of wine, honey, and oil ; sometimes 
 
 , iViiit. (.1- il.nvers. were offered. See Nymphs. 
 
535 
 
 NiRcissra, 9, and note j — the nowcr, 9. 
 Native products and fashlonSf preferable, 272. 
 Natural history cabinet, 282, 283. 
 
 Nature, Author of, ascription of praise to Him, for veitetable 
 life and functions, 9 : ' 
 
 — study of, sometimes shuts out Qod, 81 ; — who truly 
 enjoy Uie charms of, 82 ; — charms of, all may share them, 
 86 ; — admirable even when not In bloom, 86 *, — rovlves- 
 cence of, a type of the resurrection, 131 -. —delight In in- 
 tcrpreting, 137 ■, — to be mended, not made, 161 ; — solU 
 > art, 249 i fh» to her 
 
 sailor, 249 ; — study of, 
 264 \ — the vulgar, and the 
 Bins, 264 ; — forces of, put to 
 of,277,278i-l 
 
 Navigation and meclKiiiij .m-, .I'J-' , - i-i -lu.-i i., ;.-, - 
 sity, 209 i — Britisli, triumphs uf, ;'J4. 
 
 Neajra, a uymph. 
 
 Necessity, mother of art, 209. 
 
 Negroes, West India, 435 — 441 : seasoning, how to Ifcep in 
 health, 436 ; — marks by which to buy, 436 ; females, 
 436 i dirt-eaters, 437 ; begin with easy work, 437 ; the 
 negroes' condition, comparalively, 437 ; working hours, 
 439 ; emancipation, 437 ; diseases of negroes, 438 ; super- 
 stitions, 439-, marriage, cl"lhing, huts, festivals, 441; 
 
 Negro c<.«l'i I. i- \l\., Kl; — dance, the great, 441 ; 
 
 — festiv.i!- ;.: 
 
 Negro-j-T'ii \» I 111; products of; yams, cas- 
 
 sada, uri. .11, potatoes, eddas, calaloo, 
 
 cale, i:' , w i' .To-grounds, limes, citrons, 
 
 oransi-, ! i,in.i<lredecacao,440; guard. 
 
 Ncgro-lmt 
 and tru 
 tains; s 
 
 Nei 
 
 d, 441 ; their shade 
 
 lilT.T. 
 
 1 Indies ; their characters and uses, 433—441 ; Congo 
 negroes, GoUi-coast negroes, Papaws, Cormantees, Mlnnah 
 and Moco nations ; Maudingoes, Quanzas, 430. 
 
 Nenuphar, 2S2. 
 
 N EPTCXE, the classic god of the sea ; Poseidon of the Greeks, 
 brother of Jupiter and Juno. He " 
 and strong, riding in a chariot drawn 
 hoMin? in h\f hand a trident. Dolphil 
 
 and Tritons a 
 
 Newspaper, 457 ; a medley and map of life, 457, 458. 
 
 New settlers, 162. 
 
 Newton, his prison, 6 ; — eulogiied, 150 ; by Cowper, 82. 
 
 New World, intercourse with the, 294. 
 
 New year, gratitude and hopes of Giles for, 449. 
 
 Nieroi, lake, 404. Niger, the, 14.', 143. 
 
 Night in the country, 28 ;— approach of. and darknes-s, 
 
 170; — of snmmer. 151, 1.52 ; — thnn.ler-storm in, 196 ; 
 
 — walk of (iilus ; the fiiiK-iL-.l Kh.Mt, 447, 448. 
 Nightin^Ml.'. l-.-.n. •■.", 'I, l.r ,u. .1,330. 
 Nightshil Ndc, the, 143. 
 
 Niphatc!, ■ . ■ ii I'. Asia. 
 
 Noble pi-a^;n II, \-M .1.1, .i..,i • i, Uu, 111. 
 
 Noon: a pastcmil. 1*1 ;— shml.' in, IT.i;— of spring, how 
 to pass it, 8 ; — of summer, drives birds to silence and 
 shade, 139, 141 ; — described by Dyer, 76, 77 ; shade, 
 birds, silence, thoughts. 77 ; —retreat, in haying, 27. 
 
 Northern Car, the constellation called Dipper, Charles's 
 Wain, Ursa Major, Great Bear, &c. 
 
 Nortliern lights, &c., 403. 
 
 Northern Spring : by Hon. and Rev. Wm. Herlwrt, 46. 
 
 November, 369—394 ;— sonnet for, by W. C. llryant, 376 ; 
 — to May, 421. 
 
 ' Now from rusticity and love : ' a song (xv.), 118. 
 
 Nursery for for««t-treC8, choice, protection, seeds, 62. 
 
 NYUPns, beautiful females, whom tho Greeks deemed to 
 anhnate all nature, and worshipped as deities. Thtise uf 
 the vales were called Napeiu ; of the meads, fielmonlatls ; 
 of tho mountains. Oreads ; of the waters. Naiads ; of 
 lakes, LImniads ; of tho trees. Hamadryads, supixisetl to 
 bo born and to dio each with her peculiar tree ; wood- 
 nymi)h8. Dryads, presided over woods ; and fruit-tree, or 
 tlock-nymphs, Mellads, over gardens or flocks ; the sea- 
 nymphs were culM Oceanldes or Nereids. Tho nymphs 
 attended tho goddesses and gods. The name means a 
 ■ youthful bride,' as they were wived with Nature. 
 <,use8of,62;— 8 
 
 Oak-groves and forests of Englani 
 
 63 ; Dean, > 
 
 il on the prince, 62, «« , * 
 
 sts, 63 ; — sturdy strength i 
 
 — of Wtodsor forest, 294. 
 
 i.ls, M. Oby river, 
 
 storms on the, 145 ; typhoons, < 
 
 rnadoes, 145 ; — frith and grotto, 178 ; — 
 
 II ; alternations of sea and land, 280 ; — Its 
 
 i-iirs, 364 ; — wonders, vegetation, r 
 
 qiest, shipwreck on, 397. 
 
 love's beguiling : ' a song (iv.), 1 
 
 1 wool, dealers, carders, winders, combers, fi 
 
 Operative 
 506. 
 
 Orange-plant, of the greenhouse, 85. 
 
 Orchard, one-acre, 385 ; — In autumn, 385 ; — proper as- 
 pect for, west, with hills north ; proper soil for, 377. 
 
 Orellana, or Amazon, 143. 
 
 Orion, the beautiful constellation in the centre of which Is 
 ■" Welt, or three stars, 23. 
 
 Orinoco, 
 
 U-i. 
 
 Oriiii 
 
 nta, 177, 178 i enduring taste 
 
 noble thoughts. 
 
 have been a priest 1 
 )rpheu9 and Eurydit 
 
 rrupted, but is allowed to have bail 
 mi not long before 1184 B. C, and 
 i|iollo and Calliope. Ue seems to 
 riest from India. Sec ArisUsua ; Eurydlce. 
 story of, 235, 236 ; tuneful grief ; 
 visits Hades for his wife ; returning, he looks back, and 
 she is lost ; her touchhig farewell, 235, 236 ; bis despair 
 
 Osier, uses of, 62. 
 
 Ossa, a mountain of Thessaly. See Pellon. Tempe had 
 Olympus on one side, and Ossa on the other. See Tempe. 
 
 Otter, the, his ravages, 29 ; — hunt of, by Somcrville, 351, 
 355 ; habits, 354 ; tracke^l to his lair ; music uf tJie chase ; 
 takes to water, speanxl, 355, 
 
 Otway, Thomas, of brilliant but melancholy history ; tmm 
 1651, son of a clergyman, educated at Oxford. In 1672 
 he was an actor, and wrote three tragedies ; and after- 
 wards enlisted as cornet, but was cashiered^ and always 
 in poverty. He wrote Calus Marclus ; the Orphan ; Ventee 
 Preserved. On the Inst his fame rests. After starving, 
 he hastily swallowed bread of charity, had 
 
 Otway's Morning : a sonnet, 154. 
 
 Ouse, a river of E England, ruinilng N. into the Wash. 
 
 Out-door life, health, happiness cheerful prayer, 356. 
 
 Ox, and the plague, 227 ; age for working, 21. 
 
 Pack of hounds, how to breed, kennel, and manage, 346. 
 
 Paclflc influence of Britain, 204, 295. 
 
 PiEstan, belonging tc 
 
 fever, ami 
 
536 
 
 PA INDEX. PI 
 
 Painted fences, taw Iry, ic , 169 , hoiv to 1 1 e| ii i th i i nt , 
 
 Pittv the milkmail, 56, 68 , described , her story, 66, 67 , 
 
 olive tints best , efft,ot of paint compaiid t i m t I'O 
 
 .niriii,e with Ihvrsis, 66 67 , hei milking, 68 , butter 
 
 the L t l"ll 
 
 
 
 Pd. 11 1 11 
 
 1 1 1 
 
 1 "i' "r " ""■""'" '"*■ 'u^' 
 
 Pilci 1 
 Pali 1 
 
 i" ' 
 
 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 nil fiiends, th 
 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 . s — dcith 
 
 thl'lCL tl 1 u 1 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 
 Pillas, the Gi k 
 
 
 t 
 
 Pallene a peni 
 
 
 
 dm, laikej 1 
 
 
 
 gloand 
 
 
 4 
 
 Palmetti inl W I 
 
 llld tlces 44U 1 
 
 
 PAV(all) tie impel 
 
 nitun cf llie,i 
 
 nd Kraiell^ sril good for 378 
 
 he\ "'l " 'Ttl 
 
 tl ibates were s ei \ 
 
 
 
 1 f she, he, 1 1 
 
 1 1 1 "thenrble''lje!itint™4i'o 411 1 — 
 
 
 itslefes nil 1 tisl ,1 
 
 ^1 I , Mil 1 the peisint poet 63 , peasant s nest, 
 
 li 1 
 
 1 hnram Uoc sumi ante 1 Ij 
 
 
 h 
 
 .U,sjimx iiruideinpipc 
 
 248 
 
 
 1 1 lentlelUhs J ine 1 s de 1 y 
 
 Peisantiy, a manly, irrenewable 36, e\ded by luxury. 
 
 
 1 niscible, bntgoodnituiel 
 
 
 ind li II Ills n J 
 
 shii Ln^inaledm Aicadia Note, p 
 
 11 I 11 tn 21, 
 
 Pan, music, attubu 
 
 es, pipe allegory of, 58 
 
 1 21 
 1 1 110 
 
 PASupb, theNeieids 
 
 invoked by aailois See Nymphs 
 
 
 laiaivs th thcbes 
 
 of the lices of negioes, 43b 
 
 
 Pipp , fBitiin 06 
 
 
 Pel 11 1 1 1 ,, 1 in 1 itiin, il , ^ , „ t t the east coast of 
 
 P 1 hi in 1 el n„in„ t 
 
 Paplns a town of Cypiiis, firajus for 
 
 XhLssily llie feiauts in their battle with the g ds, piled 
 
 
 
 this mountain on Mt Ossa, and both on Olympus 
 
 
 
 PtLops, srn of Tantalus, King of Phrygia, who killed the 
 
 Piiil It 1 il 
 
 
 infant Pelop>i and sei ved him up foi food to the gods , 
 
 Pa 1 1 
 
 1 - Milton's 
 
 only a bit of his sh uUei was iten, which nas leplaced 
 
 a 
 
 
 byivmj wjien h wis lest lel to hfe Tintalus was 
 
 Pau 
 
 
 punished nib II bj | i| tu 1 Ihnst with a cup of water 
 
 Pan 
 
 hipel 
 
 evei betore hmi iih h tantalized him by evei eluding his 
 
 
 
 grisp 
 
 Pai 
 
 1,, s'and 
 
 Peneus, a river of Thessaly See note, p 17 
 
 luin" 1 
 
 , 1 , hii- 
 
 Penthecs, note on, 452 
 
 PtEcnAL, James G , poet and geologist Born at Berlin, 
 
 gnili 
 
 -Kous- 
 
 Connecticut, where he spent most of his life in literary 
 diudgery beneath his abilities Ills 1 n il Giole is one 
 
 Pill h I 
 
 
 of the must thdinii,,- i,,I i ,^ , I i,]t,\e pieces of 
 
 Pan II 1 
 
 , , 1 "isiu in, iud whist- 
 
 fancy in my langu u ' ,1 he studied 
 
 pill 
 
 
 medicine, bee inie in , ,1, army, and 
 
 Pans), 1 1 11 
 
 1 1 ilii.e, ObO— o74,— 
 
 pioftssi.i ofihemistM 1 iiiMyedCon- 
 
 l!i|ili 1 
 
 
 II .tiiut iii.Mli , , 1,, 1 , , , 1 1,1 luthority; 
 
 Pill II 1 
 
 
 ' ,,l 1 1 , 1 i,niii„ th ul_iiih innounces his 
 
 Pirn 1 
 
 1 hil 
 
 1 Mn,101, 102, — Spiing, 52 
 
 Parm 1 1 
 
 
 
 d, 1 
 
 -1 1 1, , , , 1 , ,1 [ 
 
 1 ,', r 1,1 Ilisind, who, bybiibmgthe 
 
 
 
 , , II 1 ,,, I 1 1, lie of the inlieritance ; 
 
 t 
 
 ,„ 11 ul littis, but his d^ath 
 
 
 W 1 
 
 ,iiiL,oce.sionedbytheloss of 
 
 1 1 1 11 h him how to seek 
 
 
 
 » ' ' , 11 life of industry 
 
 Pai Ml 
 Pll. n , 
 
 -' "i,",','i, .- n n, T„ 
 
 III 1 1 ,liiiikiii„ water after 
 
 Pii'ii 
 
 " 
 
 1 1 , J- 1 
 
 PaithM 
 
 
 1 1 ' V 
 
 2.''' 
 K II, 
 
 ,' .ua,Lk':p„n 
 
 1 ^^;^ "' '" ' ' '<' " '"1 1 M'loits, 404, 
 
 Pcttj' imbitions, o21 I he is ml, 4o , de Uh of one, 292. 
 
 Piiliil 
 
 1 II 
 
 Phebe D iwson, the Tillage belle, hei lovei fill, man iage. 
 
 P 1111! 1 
 
 
 and miseiv, 370, o71 , fly tempt Uion, 371 
 
 Piss, n 
 
 
 Piiiiiis, lulls, h. Ill Hampton, Oxfoidshue, 1676 , died 
 
 Past Ml 
 
 
 1"" 1 il 1 1 111 ited and well connected, he counted 
 
 Past, 1 
 
 
 1 n.e araon„ his fueiids He wrote 
 
 Past „ , 
 
 
 lul Hulling md Cidei, pp J77— 391. 
 1 u to, by Cowpcr 83 , — in» ocation 
 
 
 
 311- 
 
 4111. 1 , 
 
 ., >' 4 ', 4s, " "' ' 
 
 It,,, , 1 liiumted, 97, — 'CidLi ' a poem in 
 
 Past! II, 
 
 1 - IJ , \ll„llsLelj„ui.s PIPI-S, 
 
 Plnllid I'lud Lm\ doii' a ballad, by Bieton, 129 
 
 pi n 
 
 
 Philomel, Philomela, a classic name foi the mghlingale, 
 
 Pa^t, , 
 
 iiiliion, his hirlh, business, and 
 
 note, p 9 
 
 Past III 
 
 
 Philosophei.ruial, his happiness, 220 S, i Counliv Oeu- 
 
 Pastil, 
 PasV, 
 
 ' ' '"^ „ 
 
 Philosophyof nature, accoidingln 111 II , - I'.io- 
 cuius, 64, — pmseof, lo2,— . i 
 
 
 
 81, 82, — aposliophe to, 151, n , ,y, 
 
 Pitii.ii , 1 ^ 
 
 1, "I'h, 97, 
 
 aits , guides society, e\ploies 1, ,,,, , , i , , \- 
 
 
 , 1 1 1,.,- 1 1 , 1 Muiiius, 269, 
 
 plains man, 162 , its limits, 152 , — liees i li lu opii'. 
 
 2bO,-l(,itisli,4T 
 
 
 itual death, 474 
 
 Pall lot's, thi., pi ijel 
 
 "fin his counti ^ , 151 , — vii tues, 161 , 
 
 PaffiBDb, the Gieek name of Apollo , the sun See Apollo. 
 
 patuots aieglouou 
 
 3,474 
 
 Picnic, the, 282 
 
587 
 
 Piclore, homely, of a sterile region ; he«lh, sand, weeds i 
 simile ofthe garish prostitute, 255, '266. 
 
 Pigeons, 57 i — In the flirra-yard in spring, 11. 
 
 Pilcwort, 133. Pilgrim's Progiess, 318. 
 
 Pindus, an elevated ridge seiuiratlng Tbeasaly from Eplriu. 
 
 Pine-apple, 421. Pinks, 9. 
 
 Pipes, ploughs, poetry, 266. 
 
 Pirate-ship compared to MopsA, 09. 
 
 Plague, the. Its origin and effects, 146, 146 ; Ethiopia, Cai- 
 ro, putrid locusts ; cITects on prince, judge, trader, city, 
 prisoner, 146; gcnend seinsiiness, 145, 140; despair, 
 146 ; — English, sweating, of the 14lh century, 342. See 
 
 Plants, their infinitude, 6 ; uses ' 
 
 mcrica, 143. 
 10U3 ; adultery, 
 
 II.'.-, -im 
 
 erent to others' woe, 
 
 ■ Ocean-nymph, 
 r changed them 
 11 Stars i it is In 
 
 nodcn one, 20 ; 
 allows, rotation, 
 lorsewel! cared 
 
 Plcto, the suljterranean Jove, god of the lower world, k 
 
 of the dead ; notes, 3, p. 26, and 1. p. 21. 
 Poet, at noon, Ul ; whv h» Kokf retirement, 366, .%1 ; 
 
 263. 
 Poisons. ,M,- i . . , ,j. r • , \', I ; 
 
 Polar ri'^i .. . :..] -'■■■■■ ! .:. I , :, I ., w;, 1 ' ■. 
 
 Political iMiiiil , 11 •! ••■ ill III t..^!..i 1.1 i"l''" I 1 ; -I : 
 
 pi-ofligatcs, ST ; idols. 4S:J. 
 Politicians satirized, 457 ; demagogues, 457. 
 Politics and rural peace contrasted, 27. 
 Polly Kaynor, crasy, her story, .■i32, xa ; pr.-iyer, .^•i3. 
 
 singing and rlnln . i i n, ! .i i i,i . 
 
 summer,' an eclogue, i\ 
 - Universal Prayer, 134 ; 
 
 Popx, Ids censure of stllT, fomial ganlens, 165, 106 ; — ded- 
 ication to, 187 -,— alTectlonate compliment to, 400; — 
 ■ Messiah,' 101, 102 ; — MiUual Dependence, 330 j — 
 eclogue, 198 i — ' Universal Onkr,' 30« ; 
 ■'■■ -Windsor Forest, '201— 206. 
 cturing, IKI6 ', — Leeds, 606. 
 
 Porto Santo, a town of St. Christopher, W. I. 
 
 I'ortraiu of Poverty as It Is, by Crabbe, 317— 32'2. 
 
 I'ORl'S, King of N.W. India, in 330 B. C. Alexander coo- 
 qucreit him, and gave him back additional territory. 
 
 Posies presented U^ their loves by shepherds, 168. 
 
 Post-horse, Ills mlsc'rles, 447. 
 
 Postman and budget, 457. 
 
 Poultry, before the barn In the morning, 70 -, — feeding, in a 
 winter morning, 468 ; — yard, 57; |>eac<ick, turkey, 
 geese, ducks, pigeons, 67 ', — yard in spring, 11 j — yard, 
 
 PocrssiM, the famous French landscape painter, 163 
 
 Poverty, rustic, relieved, 368 \ — oppressions of by wealth, 
 66 I poverty as it is, 355—260, 316—322, 369-374, 407— 
 415 i — its rhyme and reason, 255. 
 
 Power, place, and cares, 263 ; city cares and country peace, 
 263. 
 
 Praise of seclusion and retirement, 86. 
 
 Praise to the Almighty Father, 137, 482. See God ; Na- 
 ture J Psalms i Hymns. 
 
 Prayer for national iience, love, charity, truth, courage, 
 temperance, chastity, industry, public spirit, 151 ; — of 
 Prince AMolonvmn*. 171 i — for Great Britain's health, 
 3W ; — Kurlv .M..iiiii.-. :i hymn, by Vaughan, 244. 
 
 I".-- r. Ill -. I- I" ir 'I •' ■< '11. nnle, pp. a'i 478. 
 
 scytli'? ill hi;* hiiiid. inri^roi* ..f liim, often obscene, 
 pliiced in ganlens, with bells attached, for i 
 
 Pride, its reasonings false and guidance ruinous, 473 ', — 
 manlv, of the labnrtT, 256. 
 
 Primrok-, 8 ; — in si.ri.ii;, 132. 
 
 IVinr, .1 w ii , II 1 1 >'s Agriculture inscribed to, 5& 
 
 iini not, 333, 334 ; — released, 1 
 1 in the ne.« worM, 405. 
 
 Muses. Veiled 
 PoMO.SA, a Romii) 
 
 story in Ovid. 
 
 Ponds, lakes, rivers, in gardening, 176 ; — artitlcial, use of 
 in correcting unhealthy dryness, 49. 
 
 Pontus, a region on the south shore of the Black Sea, 208 ; 
 famous for poisons and its king Mithridates. 
 
 Poor, the self-denying, 10 i — herded in cities, 37; causes 
 and effects of it, 37, 38 ; — relation of the poor and rich, 
 196 ; too much separate<I, 196 ; — consequent feelings of 
 the poor, 196, 197 ; — aggravations of their lot, 256 ; — 
 causes of their misery, 317; — abodes, 317; — the vi- 
 cious poor described (Crabbe), 316, 317 ; — corrupting 
 habits of; 317 ; the poor in wlnl 
 vices of, 461, 462. 
 
 Poor-house, English, 257, 258. 
 
 Pops, Ai.BXANDKR, born, London, -May. IGS^ 
 enham. May, 1744. Son of a im' ii,!r,|. ,, i, 
 up a Roman Catholic. Ilii* 1i i ' 
 
 the Ode on SoUtude ; his al 
 printed in 1700 ; the Messiah 
 1714 ; and the Prayer (134), i 
 
 Ti III .1 Ki . '.-. 'u. Sec Britain. 
 li I ; . Ill, in four eclogues, by I^ttelton, 
 
 1 ; 1 , IS7 ; Hope, 187, 188 ; Jealousy, 
 
 i-- ■ ■ r . -I 11. isii, 190. 
 
 II. riiati if life and death, 204 ; — spiritual, 
 
 I ivorable to, 360. 
 
 I IV lie should live in the country, 203, 264. 
 I 1 I'BBSKPIIOSK, daughter of Ceres and Jupi- 
 
 ; I - I ivai gathering flowers in the field of Ennn, 81c- 
 il\-, w1r-ii Pluto seized her, carried her down to lladcs, 
 and made her his queen. 
 Prospect, from the mountoln top, widening, 75 ; — from 
 Grongar Hill, 77 ; — an English, described (Cowper), 'Hb ; 
 sheep, hay-cart, woodbinds ; ash, lime, beach, 'i48 } — 
 a rural, 247 ; — how to show one, 163. 
 Prosperity of states, vicissitudes in, 499. 
 Prostitute, child of the, 310. Prostitution, 80. 
 
 Proteus, the sliejihenl of the seas, his cave, henis of seals, 
 • -at, 234, 235 ; story of Orpheus, '236, 
 
 Providence, man's criticism of, presumptuous, 138 ; the fly 
 
 on the dome, 13S ; — the Divine, 147 ;— unexplained to 
 
 this life, 152; providences have siieclol reganl to our. 
 
 spiritual progress, 468. 
 Prudish spinsu-r, story of; house, flnery, peta, avarice, 
 
 410. 
 Pruning, 83 ; — of applc-trces, lime of, 380. 
 Psahn -Xl.X., of David, imitated by AddUoii, 134 ; .\.\in., 
 
 by Addison, 78 ; VIII., by Merrick, 40; XLII., 1, by 
 
 Quaries, 358. 
 Psalms of I'raise, for April, 78 ; Slay, 134 ; June, 191, 192 ; 
 
 SeptcmlK-r, 330 ; October, 35« ; November, SM. 
 Public applause, hollow, 09 ; — benefactors, 271 ;— spirit, 
 
 iU trmmi.hs, 501. 
 I' ill n ill. lliorough, ofsoils, necessary, 268. 
 r .1 , ■ III. ilv and now, 80. 
 I 1 1,1 lie jdillosopher, Ixim on the IsUind of Samoa, 
 
 I i 1.1 II 6U8 and 466 B.C., p. 7, anil note. Hemark- 
 
 ii I II III I liildhood, he sought knowledgcin Ionia, Plic- 
 
 I nicia, Knypt, whi 
 I iu Persia and I 
 
538 RE INDEX. KU 
 
 Southern Italy H s doctr nes blend i pol tics and rel gion 
 
 
 tauhnl^tnenc fi m (i bl in In 1 n ich of numbeia 
 
 elusion praise of 86 — self imi rovement self content 
 
 
 10—8 ught by the dsipioitel statesman 363 — 
 
 
 lauous motives t tl e p et « tl e 1 is jl choice f 
 
 
 bocks 1 365 it) frienlshii 11 obb , —forbids not tl e 
 
 1 i din 
 
 hvhest usefulne s 4s6 
 
 
 Retiement i p em ft m Talle Talk ly W Cowler 359 
 
 L " 1 ' 1 Ehza 
 
 -306 
 
 11 1 1 1 pT..l.r 
 
 Ret red tite man h ru al c n pinions the mechanic 
 
 anl 1 1 lie ebi oused the 
 
 
 can 1 It death 1 y the 
 
 R ti rect n exctedU n 1 c 4 
 
 oil n II 1 hedinl645(see 
 
 Reul ml R liar"' t 1 m miinge their 
 
 eMa ,1 1 11 the dan ns of 
 
 til It inlimfoit 3 i lket» til li elms 3 3 
 
 plel e 1 1 u u 1 r (1 it la believed of 
 
 R 111 the after a f x chase discr bed 302 — Mij Day 
 
 
 QciRLt U 1 „ht in C d 102 — Psalm \ul 1 ton ing 
 
 Reiey indthouglt 365 — a lepose of themind 460 — 
 
 aft r t 1 351 — P ilm XL I . L ng ng to see God 
 
 leiti es of a spi ngmoin 8 
 
 330 
 
 Reii esce le of fwests a type of rain's 131 
 
 Qute \ 1 1 II Pope 2'»2 .94 See Anne 
 
 Rl dimmth the just ce s] eech 94 95 -arrests Hob 
 
 
 
 Que 10 —hir throne 99 
 
 Rljmeanlre1\°°fp iiily 256 
 
 Q » SO 
 
 Kl I me 1 |e s ns foi Julv 244 — for August 296 
 
 I 1 
 
 
 
 1 1 — the r relation feelings of the pool, 196 
 
 
 1 1 111 sstorv 321 
 
 
 1 1 CM lots 390 
 
 
 11 1 the vallei f tl e TI irae^ Fn^land 149 — as 
 
 
 1 111 \ 1 me 4b — 1 111 1 h 11 land 
 
 f 
 
 sci|e 144 Lo d 14 1 1 11 \\ Iso 18- 
 
 Rake 1 
 
 R 1 \ n 1 s m ly R ] 1 M 1 i s death 
 
 Ran 1 1 05 wished ly 
 
 b 
 
 Ramll - 1 1 .40 — evenn„ of 
 
 1 11 1 1 , 1 i 1 fe of one 
 
 lo%ei» U3 
 
 
 Rimll 1 1 rtDn"! r st n f 411 41. 
 
 I 
 
 Ram a\ \\l\s rh e verv 1 u n V in imperiona 
 
 1 s 
 
 ti n f^ ott hwnerya 1 1 1 L 
 
 1 
 
 aikslue wheie h s fath r \ 
 
 
 flfte n lewis appientc 1 1 
 
 1 — 
 
 and dd 1 ot commence w 
 
 
 Ofve ir iHlnethel ^1 
 
 - 
 
 al"' l' ' ' II 
 
 1 1 l' dlt -ll „1 . 4 1 
 
 h' 
 
 1 W C Bryant, 261,-useofin 
 
 Igel 
 
 1 ' 4 
 
 Raji Al s Gentle bhepherd 103— l.i> , — Kichy and ban 
 
 
 d\ u b — s n„s See Sings 
 
 11 In J.-„4 
 
 Rank It lisgustin" accompaniments 58 
 
 1 4 
 
 Ranui L III 8 
 
 11 1 1 411 41 
 
 Raphael 163 1 111 
 
 K 11 1 
 
 Rats desti uct ^ 1 to desti oy them , 
 
 K ■SA tL 1 1 1 \ 
 
 cat snakes 1 1 ine nightshade 
 
 
 424 
 
 tl f d t 1 111 
 
 Reah a a 1 I ivania m 1822 
 
 
 II 1 d devoted h m 
 
 at 1 s death His ho 1 t 1 V 1 1 1 \ 
 
 sell 1 1 in Boston his 
 
 h lu tible He was conte ui 1 1 J w tli somi or the m st 
 
 L lleNewPdatolal, 
 
 d sti oUsled people anl events in hstij and hist 
 
 
 i, 1 eued as an autho. in 1 bb at the same tmie ivitli 
 
 KtA^'i 11 1 1 416 
 
 
 
 111 t5 — ItlhanCot 324 
 
 f " 1 ' 1^ -1 Ilk tt Ilesiodon, 21 —health, 
 
 1 1 Rot and worms obi 
 
 11 , 1 f 111 1» 19d 
 
 1 221, — worthies of 
 
 Pal 1 1 
 
 
 14 11 4 
 
 1 
 
 Rel M 3S. 
 
 1 1 ^ irgm and founder of 
 
 Ren II 1 n 1J7 
 
 
 Rli 3 
 Ref 
 
 1 1 n sp n„ 11 looks 
 
 k'"",'.,"'"" i' ' ', i.'l jui.r,elftoit, 239, 340. 
 
 U ■ II ■ i: ■ i .' 1. 1 •, 1., ■. Id, 74. 
 
 l! i .1.0. Percival, 101, 102. 
 
 ''i:''..!'''t'i, •,'!'" hi' i,';'i.i «r.'i'i,:j„',.;s,3i6. 
 
 
 i;„« .,1 , r.M ....1,., l,.:,v I,. ,n:i;,:,-- ii. landscape, 164 ■, Sid- 
 
 l:. ;,_; :,, .111 , : , 1 ,: r ..n.[ of joy and moral pleasures, 
 
 1^' '.. -'"''' > ■ -1' "l"",v 1 1;. 1114. 
 
 
 l;!,'- " ' • 11 !.iil''.rihtli'e'New Forest, 290. 
 
 autumn, 211. 
 
 l: lastle, abbey, 104 ;- in Wales, 77. 
 
 Eeminisoences of CIimhilti , .inlni^.m, ivicy, Yi hite, Lennox, 
 Remorse, effects of, 312. Kepentance, 13, 
 
 Km ■ . ■ ..il, iSl. 
 
 Kul-.l !s|,o',ls ■, angling,' fowling, hunting : a poem, by John 
 
 Respect to Age : an eclogue, by Willi.am lirowne, 487, 
 
 liay, 27—31. 
 
 
 Rural mirth and manners, gone, 36. 
 
 Resuii-ection, the, a symbol of, 131 ; the general, 131. 
 
 Rural happiness, ot a young couple, described by Gay, 31 ) 
 
by Ooldsmlth, 3S ; — Odes for April, 61- 
 iii(li|icMiili!nce, 68 i — Dallnda for April, 11—'!* ; - 
 ciilculiitwl to soothe and elevate, 82-, — life, 11 
 
 Seasons, Thomson's, Spring, 3— U ; Summer, 136—162 ; 
 297-310 i Winter, 396— J06i—chanKeil by 
 ", persoulfled, 69 ] 
 
 utumn, 297- 
 e flood, ; - 
 
 quiet and hopes, 273 
 
 Pope, Gesuer, 267 i Polish 
 and note, p. 289 ; — Poetry, 
 for, 284—289 ; — retiremem, 
 — scenes. Cooper's Uill ; I)> 
 
 60. 
 
 ;iiid Its genius : note, 496. 
 nont of the country, 263, 264. 
 
 rl. , ,v J> S:ipphire, 137. 
 
 ill;:, rfCliiiiii'-'fi, ■JT4 ; sand-spouts, 
 dvantages and disadvantages -, hon 
 
 ) better i 
 
 Sangs, Scotch, in the Gentle Shepherd, I., 103 i II., 103 ; 
 III., 106 i IV., 106 ; v., 106 ; VI., 107, 108 ; VII., 108 ; 
 VIII., 103 ; IX., 103, 110 ; X., Ill, 112 ; XI., 112 ; XII., 
 11-2 : XIII., 114 i XIV., 116 ; XV., 118 ; XVI., 120 ; 
 XVII., 122 i XVIII., 122 i XIX., 12i ; XX., 124 ; XXI., 
 
 School-children, various 
 
 b> Delille, 
 and destinies of, 209, 
 
 Schoolmistress, the good, 320 ; — a poem, by Shenstone, 611. 
 
 Scotch, the, 305 ; glossaries of Scotch words, 28 ; 186 ; 336 ; 
 617,618. 
 
 Scotland, described, 306 j her resources, 306. 
 
 Screens, best trees for \ shrubs better ; pines, thorn, holly, 
 box, privet, pyracanth, 173. 
 
 Scudamore, Lord, 381. Scythe, 66. 
 
 Scythians, 403 ; the armory of Providence, 403, 
 
 • " dilccs, meadows, pas- 
 vicious, described ; smugglers, in- 
 stead of ' happy swains,' 268. 
 
 Sea-shore, fashionable migration to, 364 ; ocean, 364 ; — 
 humid marshes near, occasion dropsy, palsy, gout, ague, 
 scurvy, catarrh, 48 i —sen-cliff, a landmark, 260. 
 
 Season, the : a ballad, by Thomas Hood, 367. 
 
 Sensible, the most so, a 
 September, .ISl. 
 Serpents, tr-'picjil. 144. 
 
 ; happiest and most virtuous, 463 
 i^t;vi.'rn. legend of, note, 496. 
 
 ;i,...:, - , , . I 'I I M shear, 494, 496; festivities; 
 
 (1.11:., |.i 1 I H .. I .ur, 496. See Sheep. 
 iheep, ti-iiiliii« "f, ;U; — feeding; need variety, and are 
 
 fond of changing, 44 ; — and shepherds, in spring, 44 ; — 
 
 husbandry, 489, 496, 67, 68 ; -- • • 
 
 le (splendid), the Saxon 
 
 Hales Owen, Shropshire, England, Nov., 1714 ; died Feb. 
 11, 176J. He was taught to read at a dame school, and 
 has Immortoliied his preceptress in his poem of the 
 Schoolmistress, pp. 511 — 513. He w: 
 
 In 1746 the paterni 
 
 care, and he began, says 
 
 pects, to diversify his surface, to entangle his walks, i 
 
 euvy of Uie grea^ 
 of the skilful ; a phice to be vlsiuid by 
 travellers, and copied by designers.' Dodsley and Oold- 
 sraith have both written descriptions of the U-asowes. 
 Cut, p. 60. 
 
 Subsstosb'3 eclogues, ' Hope,' IM ; ' Absence,' 406 ; 'Dis- 
 appointment,' 406 ; —Schoolmistress : a iwem, 611. 
 
 Sbksstonb complimented as a landscape gniJeucr, by 
 Mason, 166 ; — address to, by Grainger, 424. 
 
 Shepherdess gathering flowers, 314. 
 
 Shepherd, 136 ; — and milkmaid, returning from work, 161. 
 
 Shepherd and his Wife : an ode, by R. Greene, 610. 
 
 Shepherd's Life: an idyl, by P. Fletcher, 488; — Eve, by 
 J. Fletcher, 368 ; — song, by Hey wood, 130 ; — boat-song, 
 314 ; — dancing-song, 168 ; — boy, 363 ; his freedom, 368 ; 
 
 Shepheri 
 
 r^i^ 
 
 e for, 170 ; — piping, sliiep, 77. 
 ih, 11 ; 67 ; 493, 494 ; — classic ; Aimblau, 
 Wan, Scythian, Thrncian, Crimean, Danublao, 
 of, for leisure hours, 492; — holiday of; 
 1, 167 ; music and sweethearts of, 167 ; song, 
 
 ens, poa 
 ts, 386; 
 
 ,168. 
 
540 
 
 Shetland and the Hebrides, flocks, birds of, 305. 
 Shooting stars, 152. Shore-fisliing, 29. 
 
 Shore, wasted by the sea, and deserted, 256. 
 Showers, vernal, brouglit by south wind ; — fertilizing:, i 
 
 April; — clearing up, 5 ; — in torrents, in West Indit 
 
 420. See Rain. 
 Ship foundering in a tropical storm, 145. 
 Ship-building, British, 294. 
 Shipping of Kngland, ports, London, 490. 
 Shipwreck 146 • 397 • — on the coasts of the'Sahara It 
 
 — of Ne na and escue 18 19 
 Shrul lev a monolo ue by Co v] er "90 
 
 S I e Algernon eulo zed 150 
 
 Signs of a plentiful season, 609 ; observe 
 
 ers, 210 ; — of heat, rain, wind, dry ; 
 
 storm, 211, 212. 
 
 Sin, originated f 
 
 480. 
 Singers of Pasto 
 
 Major } supposed to be the 
 
 Sisvi'iii -, -.11 . 1 l;.h[., iinil founder of Corinth. 
 witteil Heath several limes. For this Pluto 
 him to roll a stone up hili, which constantly recoiled. 
 
 Sites for homes, best, 48. Skiddaw, Mt., 172. 
 
 Skimmings, use of, 433. 
 
 Skin, make it not too delicate ; Scythian, Pict, 339. 
 
 Sky-lark, the, 194. Sky-larking, 30. 
 
 Sky of autumn, blue, cool, golden, 297, 298. 
 
 Slave clothing, 441 -, — code, should protect 
 o, 441 i — marriage 
 
 Slaves, 
 
 341)' i - 
 
 West India 
 
 ed to be happy, 437. 
 
 I'.iwper), 470 j —to 
 
 1 ..ating late at night, 
 I .Ireams 5 — noon-day, 
 .49, 341 ; — of vegeta- 
 
 f ; civil liberty ; 
 of friends, 400. 
 
 y, clayey, loamj 
 - every kind got 
 e, 417, 418 i - 
 properties of, 69, 60. 
 
 Soils, should 
 208; — nat 
 
 dark, 41^ , 
 
 Solar system, 136. Soldier, Roman, 226. 
 
 Soldiers of the cross, children to become, 133. 
 Soliloquy of .\lcander over Nerina's corpse, 183 ; 
 
 Solitude, i 
 ences, 2 
 333; — 
 
 and inconveni- 
 - grateful in youth, 267 ; — and liberty, 
 without friendship, 365 ; — use and 
 
 May 
 
 ged. 
 
 Song of Spring: an ode, by Rufus Dawes, 101, 
 
 Song, Shepherd's : by Heywood, 130. 
 
 Song of Wooing : an idyl, by Bryant, 159. 
 
 Songs, in 'Gentle Shepherd.' See Sangs ; also their first 
 
 lines in this Index. 
 Sonnet for November : by Bryant, 376. 
 Sophy, the Shah or King of Persia. 
 Sorrow, for the i.ivf-l ami li..ii..rcd de.'id, 261 
 
 South Amerit 
 
 2S5. 
 S.nip-S niien 
 
 fPope 
 i of, 143 ; — compared with European, 
 
 1 by Mason, 166. 
 
 ligious rites in ; Hesiod's 
 
 indicated by the stars ; 
 
 : mind contrasted ; on insect, 
 
541 
 
 sage, and poet, 2&i ; — active pleasures of ; bcalth, 1265 ) 
 — its rural sports, 2S; — coming of, descrilicd, 42; — 
 coining forth. 44 ; — iu amusements, 266 ; — bird-life In, 
 13'j, 133 ; — the smile of Qod, 11 ; — eflects of, on man, 
 13—14 j on the benevolent, sick, pious, 12 i — forest- 
 flowers of, 132 f — early, capricious, care of buds in, 83. 
 
 Spring : Anacreon's ode to, by T. .Moore, 102 ; ode on, by 
 Mrs. Barbauld, 41 ; song of, by Dawes, lUl j ode on, by 
 Gray, ' Lo where,' &c., 101 ; Voice of Spring : ode by 
 Hemana, 62 ; SprUig-scene, by 0. W . Holmes, 102 ; — Mc- 
 leager'3 ode on, by Buckmlnster, 46 ; Spring Musings : 
 an ode, by Clare, 63 ; — an ode, by Percival, 82 ; —Thom- 
 son's poem of, 3—14. 
 
 Springs, medicinal, 380 ; their visitors, 280. 
 
 Squire Hobbinol, 89. See Country Sciuire. 
 
 S<|Uirrel, 479 ; —and boys in chase, .113. 
 
 Stag-hunt, 260, 292, 301 ; at bay, 306 See Hunt. 
 
 Stagnant wiiturs, iivui.I ili-iiiking till boiled, 203. 
 
 Sunhn-, n 1. iti'l- 1 .ivfi', ri l.lressed, 141. 
 
 Stalli....^. ■,• .1 !■ i:.- '■■■■■ -"- 
 
 Stars, cti, ,11. i^r, 402', — apostrophe to, 475. 
 
 State ilrul 1 li.iv, freetlom, 363. 
 
 Sti.tc^nMi, : kMural retirement, 363. 
 
 ■ <■■,■;■ ■ 1 „ . |.„-nbingit,56. 
 
 -1 I In I ! , u « L..lescribed,417,418. 
 
 Jjl; — and Swiss plague, 228. 
 
 ■floiv..r, 3, Sti.iie, product of Britain, 66. 
 
 !, origin of man from, 218. See Deucalion. 
 , signs of a i see Signs J — winter, nortl 
 
 , I . le, by T. B. Read, 416. 
 
 1,278. 
 
 i-'Slers, prostitutes, 316, 317. 
 I. Illy Garden,' 130. 
 -s and disadvantages, 169. 
 
 from the Strymon, now Karasou river, Turkey 
 
 me, 291. 
 
 midnight, reprobated, 
 
 jumble temples, tents, pyra- 
 
 in Europe. 
 Stuart (Queen Anne), compliment I 
 Stud-horse, good i)ointa in, 332. 
 Study, as influencing health, 451 ; 
 
 kl.. 
 
 book IV., nitT".s, 4:15 — H3. .*.->: f 
 Suicide's grave, 161. 
 Sultanas of Aurengzebe, sue for merej 
 Summer : a poem, by Thomson, la.'i- 
 
 Bloomfteld, 193—197 ; — an «l"-u-. 
 Summer, 366;— the Sccoml 1 
 
 personifted, by Dodsley, 
 of Gri 
 
 161, 152; — noon, preparations i.n-, lUT ; tlmWs. cows, 
 daw, rook, magpie, shade of oaks, fowls, house-dog, 
 greyhound. Insects, 137, 138 ; — noon, blaze of light arid 
 heat, silence, quiet. 139 ; shade, scenes, cattle, slumlwr- 
 ing herdsman, 140 ;- insects, l:;-i ; 194; their variety 
 
 and beauty; .i( ih 1, « 1, ilwers, house, 138 ; — 
 
 in the torrid 7. n , 1 : ' ]■' si, described, 148 ; 
 
 — clouds, fruits til A ilk i circle of friends, 
 
 11 ; shadows, breeze, 
 
 148, 149; — cvti. 
 
 quail, wafted s- 
 
 .r, 151; — n- 
 
 Sunday, about the country chapel, 3! 
 
 i. 8 
 
 eo Sabbath. 
 
 Sunk fences, gmM 
 
 •or deer and sheep 
 
 
 
 Sunlight, rcqulsiu 
 
 
 
 
 ams, rocks, ocean, 
 
 
 
 of ligh^ 137 ; 
 
 -of December; t 
 
 Isma 
 
 
 -by Dyer, 77; 
 
 ;r, 161. 
 
 x-mpest 01 tne ; areaa ; eim ; 
 i ; — Insect lite ; habits of the beetle, moth, 
 grasshopper, 194 ; — employments, and winter pleasures, 
 211 ; -praUe of ; — moonlight, 265; — drinks, 386; — 
 Indian, 343, 344 ; 366. 
 Summer Months: an o<le, by Motherwell, 160 ; — InsecU : 
 an ode, by Clare, 302 ; — Wmd : by Bryant, 206. 
 
 Sunrise, by Dyer, 76 ; — In summer, 136 ; - 
 CowiJer's shu ' 
 
 Sunshine after a shower, H7. 
 
 Superstition, advice against, 270 ; —of negroes ; bewitch- 
 ing, gree-gree, obia, 430. 
 
 SCRKKY, U)K0, tribute to, 393. 
 
 Sycophants and hypocrites denounced, 383, 884. 
 
 SyliabulB, 69. 
 
 Sympalliv, human, claimed and enforced, 81 ; — of rich and 
 pcur, 308 ; — in tlie love of nature, 246 ; — good effects 
 of, 398, 399. 
 
 Syracuse, note on, p. 26. 
 
 S.vrian wool ; Tyrian dyes, 498. 
 
 Syrup of sugars, 433. 
 
 Swale, fate of exotics on Its banks, 174. 
 
 Swallow, building his nest, 10 ; — in Greece, 23. 
 
 Swampy luxuriance, how to beautify, 167, 168. 
 g, 11- 
 
 at the Caudino Pass. 
 T.\ciTrs, the Uoman historian, 94. 
 Talking party, of women, in the country, 373. 
 Talliot-hound ; useii in hunting moss-troopers. 
 Talents, diver'ifi<'d ; use for mutual aid, 133. 
 T;il;.'i.l. his exploits ;it the May-day riot, 93. 
 
 Tartar iinii.v-lmiit .l.si 
 
 Taste should preside 
 
 ganlening, 86 ; — true, in 
 Milton its herald, 165 ; — 11 
 exhortation lo ; Reynolds, 
 taught by rules, '" 
 
 351—353. . 
 
 rural labors, 85 ; — vulgar, 1 
 gardening. Bacon its prophe 
 
 n, 172. 
 
 _ vale of Thessaly, about Bve miles long, through 
 hich flowed the I'eneus, from Mt. Pindus. It was and 
 is a proverb for beauty. 
 Temperance, 389 ; 49 ; — recommended lo the young farm- 
 • ■ by Epicurus, 64 ;— is true luxury. 
 
 state, and 1 
 
 and Wi 
 Temptation, 374 ; 86;— of the fanner. 
 
 374. 
 
 
 Tenglio river, 404, and note. 
 
 Tkbpsichiirb, Inventress and muse ol 
 holding music and crowned with laurel. See .Muses. 
 
 Tetcvs, wife of Oceanus (ocean), and daughter of Iranus 
 and Terra (heaven and earth), mother of the rl»«r« and 
 three thousand ocean-nymphs. Sec Nymphs. 
 
 ToiUA, muic of comedy ; also of husbanilry and plaotiog. 
 
 Thanksgiving Hymn of the Farmers : by Jones, 358. 
 
 Thames, the, good example compared lo, 260 ; — appears 
 
Anne^s peaceful reism ; 
 (Pope), 293; — apostru].! 
 
 'The dorty will repent : ' a s 
 
 'The laird who in riches a.n-\ 
 
 Theocritus, a Greek, the t; 
 
 was born in Syracuse, floi 
 
 delplms, King of Egypt, J 
 
 of Syracuse, by whom he i 
 
 speech, 294 -, — praise ol 
 l.y Ciiainj^er, 441, 443- 
 
 ' i - praise and praye 
 
 i of Pa 
 
 idyls : by Chapman, ' Daphnis,' 17, 18 ; * Sing- 
 
 where his father w i- mn 
 at Edinljurgh, tnK - ■ 
 
 fifteen dollars I < ' 
 ' Summer,' and ^ii i -. 
 1727-S, and ' Auuiimi ' \- 
 came out togetiier, in 17u 
 for the stage ; the Princ 
 pension, and in 1745 Lor 
 
 Thr; 
 
 country < 
 
 piri' i""\ 'I !]!■ \ I ■ !ii;- 1 1 . ■, l;: I'k Sea, and Balkan 
 
 mouiitauiTi. itif -god I'l iiiraiA' i-s Uiicchus. 
 Thresher, 24li. 
 Threshing, 44i3 ; — in ancient Greece, 23 } — floor in South 
 
 Europe, how to make, 209. 
 Thrift, not inconsistent with taste, 166. 
 Throckmorton, J. C, his estate ; avenues of trees, 248 249. 
 Thrush, love-song of, 9 } — morning orisons of, 43. 
 Tbpancs, the famous and excellent French statesman, De 
 
 Thou, 94. 
 Thult\ an unknown island in the north, variously identified 
 
 with the Shetland Isles, Iceland, Scandinavia, Tylemark, 
 
 in Norway, and Lapland. 
 Thunder-storm, tropical, 143; — in summer, 146,147; — 
 
 and lightning, 143, 146, 211 ; fright, noises, 211. 
 Thyme, gmws on healthy localities, 49 ; — savory, n.se- 
 
 Thyi-l-,'i!,' I.,.!m,mm ■. I.- >lv :n„l l„nK. im; -,u„1 
 
 He HI. 
 
 Pope's, published at the sam 
 
 rel. His Lucy and Colin ' is 
 Tickell's Lucy and Colin, 73. 
 Tillage, TulPs, theory of rejecting : 
 Timber, when to fell it, 20, 21 ; ■ 
 
 raise the best, 62. 
 Tune, mellows the harshness of art ; ruins, 164 ^ —eternity, 
 
 winter, spring, 405 ; — to reap, sow, sail, 210. 
 Tin, British, 66. 
 Tisiphone, 229 ; one of the three Furies, sprung 
 
 who were imaged as brandishing snakes in 
 
 and a torch in the other. 
 Tita:^, the sun ; which was so cnll'-'d ns br-in:^ 
 
 Hyperion, one of the Titans wli.. \v..n.d ..l-;i 
 
 - cultivation of ; — how t 
 
 I Night, 
 
 Tithes, danger of withholding: ^ i 
 
 TityrusandMelibtEus: abmnih \ > i : , . ;■ 
 
 Tivoli, near Rome, with ganl. n. ,, i ; ,, 
 
 Tmolus, high and broad moutitiuM m l,>.ii,i, \-;,i .Mm-r, 
 Tobacco, praise of, 380. 
 
 Toil and care the price of property and comforts, 208, 209 -, 
 — a blessing; healthy old age; ease, 249;— and be 
 
 Tonsorio, liis exploits in 
 Tools, farmers', 5(i ; — 
 Topaz, ir~ 
 
 May-day riot, 93, 93. 
 nt Greek, 21. 
 Tornadoes, tropical, 145. 
 
 Toughening, 339. 
 
 of planting, 217. 
 Traveller, lost in snow-storm ; 
 — of taste, addressed, 161 ; 
 
 impared, 86. 
 Tyre, 502. 
 
 - and teaming, in 
 
 Treasures, earthly and heavenly, 410. 
 
 Trees and their qualities, 156 ; elm, cypress, alder, plane, 
 oak, ebony, cedar, box, olive, vine, lotus, juniper, pine 
 yew, tamarisk, liirrh, servis, walnut, mulberry, majjle. 
 
 ii-ii, I.iiir. K iiiwil.'. ■r.^, -l..i... lir, beech, 156 ; — cauLion 
 
 1 fish bodies from the 
 
 — of British navigatio 
 Troglodytes, dwellers in ( 
 
 ; and cellars underground ; 
 
 art5, science, poetry, freedom, 14o 
 
 leopard, hyena, lion, 144. 
 Troubles of wedded hfe, cured by r 
 
 and time, 373. 
 Trouncer, the fox-hound ; ht-^ i\>'-'Ah ■ 
 Trout-fishing, 7 ; divectm,,^ , ,!■ -, , ;, 
 Troy, a city founded I'.\ .i ■ 
 
 n health, 452. 
 = Tullus Cicero. 
 
 Tvi-, ..":■ '.■''■' .!■ -. lii'iiL-, 502. Tyrian dye, 502. 
 
 Tyrrheii. ; Tu-icaii, the sea that laves the coast of Tuscany. 
 Unexpressive, inexpressible, 444. 
 
 Union, dependence and sympathy, mutual, of the several 
 classes of society, 268. 
 
548 
 
 Universal Order, 296, — from Pope'il EBsny on Man. 
 
 Universal Prayer (Pope's), 134. 
 
 UBiSii, Ihe inuao of usUouoniy i Imaged with a globe and 
 a rod. See Muses. 
 
 Use an clement of true taato ■, use and beauty Inseparable, 
 160 —an I ileasue 1 I of I g« 1 K '08 
 adi aut) 168 — ofNaurcs ous fore « 4 nc 
 
 C IJ kll 4 - f 1 Udl 8 10 — 
 
 Vanities of sc nee and lea g 81 • 
 8 — of hun n pu su ts 397 all I 
 tue 40 
 
 lb — 1 
 ■n thly thi 
 
 -manly Its empire cndur- 
 lnll> 82 - necessary In 
 
 J7 — maj sty of; OihPs 
 yiK-s of heaven, 486. 
 
 I ) fa rocr nuetis, 66 -, 
 y 1 1 — patriotic, 183, 
 
 h wl 384 as Virgil, Ho- 
 
 
 
 w h lappiness of ani- 
 
 1, colt, fr 
 
 
 
 148, 149 
 
 'cow, » 
 
 >\inu.r Walks, 407— 186. 
 
 1 • 83 
 
 Wal 
 
 ut-tce uses of, 62. 
 
 uacB (1 
 
 17-1 90) 
 
 ail ceman, with J30,000 
 
 
 
 , t,thei Ime minister; 
 
 
 II 11 a fl 
 
 ''"■'l''w'sU.e°f[icndTf 
 U e c of 74. 
 
 IJ; — rural, 67, 
 
 al y charge, 70. 
 odN\ ^.M,.rs. 
 
 
 1 _ 
 
 b otl of Tl o n IS (l)fl..» ), and 
 il 1800 He was a sclio„uvlluw 
 tonl c ale of Bajingstoke, afU'r 
 of V nchiaur prebend of St. 
 
 I V nchiaur pri 
 ' ote Od to Far 
 
 uaste (Del II ) the b I 
 II s s bu I St z I 
 
 c cul u e of 17—219 i 
 bo I t ansplant ng vin U 1 f I 
 
 a my 1 pti of plant ng dos roy ng t res m 
 1 1 ugl ng 217 p cautions against wet an I 1 ougl 
 Ic I he H 1 free t al n of vines p u ing p cl 
 
 lory and PoH 
 I of April, 
 rst of April, 64. 
 
 uads hackneyed, 280. 
 inj, 1 agonally across 
 4iscd by an'>t)KT, tliu 
 ul 1 1 iss trim Dover 
 I LI oln. 
 
 w a g 604 — Kl mish 1 « England, 607. 
 c hoc g I U nncl s AJi 
 > foe i i ts 86 — I -cts of sloth, 61 ; 
 fl ids i^ AJ> rem di s against iKilsons ; 
 
544 
 
 W I INDEX. Z 
 
 use ,.f yellon- thistle, kn 
 
 it-Kr.iss, .■Off-itch, vervain, wild- 
 
 Winter: a poem, l.y Th.ims.,n, 3!ir,— 40.5 ; — a poem, hy 
 
 Bloomflel.l, 41-i in- il'ii.'i 1 , l; \\ illiam Jeiiks, 
 
 D.D.,456; - 1 , ; : T,-k,hy Cow- 
 
 '\\''l ■'.■■: ,1 1 .1 '" 
 
 '' Ni>;-).n6. 
 
 per, 457-4hl "i « ;.,. l,y Cowper, 
 
 ii ':-'"'/' ■' -," 
 
 ■ 1 -"ns(xiii.),116. 
 
 \\"\ .i".'!.'.;''! : 1 ' , .,.,■: ■ : , - ;i,i,l love of God, 162 ; 
 
 "cnr'v 'ill '-'US ■ — I'nrves 
 
 •lemittst' during; sheafs, 05, 
 
 W.il'vei,wmi.V. ' ii \ i' i i 1 Ii, r.l,,ii, 353. 
 
 66; — I'ipemn's, 1»4. 
 
 
 Woman, to !..■ 1" i. ■ u: ■: , i ' : ! .;<• and friend- 
 
 'When first my dear laddi 
 
 gaed to the green hill :' a song 
 
 ship of, 3.s:; ; , ■ • Ml-:, 303. 
 
 (x.), Ill, 112. 
 
 
 Women, of l;,i: I , l.'.o, 161; of 
 
 
 in despair;' a song (.^vni.), 122. 
 
 ll.-ixlonMiii ;■ 1 i. r. 
 
 White"lh'"''i"i'''n'!''i"Il!' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 the.M.,: : 
 
 ",■■■,■ 1 ■ ■•. 
 
 
 En^,'':i 
 
 ",\i ' '.I'uiriiot countries; 
 
 1 , ' : l: ii-l, commerce, 68 ; - its 
 i i. . i: i. . ■ .iinncUmatesunfavorahle 
 
 K," i'i';| 'iiin". r.u'l.n: '".n, \.. ' ' W.:rU,!' ' 'i i 1 ,1;^: 
 
 Cli.-I ' -: 1 
 
 , im"i'; slaughter of, 
 
 ing^; >:,ri..iis .\y:s; British' dye-stuffs, .002 ■ curding. 
 
 362; -Ii ..: ■■.■•! 1 ■ 
 
 
 spinning, o03. 
 
 Wild-w 1 ■•■•.! ..! i;:/. 
 
 ', V'V n,.-lilv, 164. 
 
 Woollens, lalirics, 497 ; manufactures of, 503—509 ; manu- 
 
 William 1 . . 1 
 
 .Uo;— I.andll.; 
 
 facture, suiierior to others, 506, 607 ; wooUen trade, SOS, 
 
 
 1 l-pulated60orT0 
 
 609. 
 Wordof God, thi liiii|.i..Nin,i-i-, 475. 
 Work for riiiiiv ■. . i 'i : , h /, ! i . , .venings ; for each sea- 
 
 I! " ' ' !' ' 
 
 rluSea,404. 
 
 son, 210, J 11 lii.urs, for slaves, 439. 
 Works and Hin ■ II , ■ ■ Jt, 
 
 ;■; ."' [y" ■ ;■, 
 
 1 . 11), o'.lo, .396. 
 
 World, the, it- Ii 'i 1 . ■-, oiiil wrong ; law, fash- 
 
 
 ,■,:',' v; "■''■''" 
 
 v\,,!i''i'l'ir-|!'i . " i. iii i-ure, 262. 
 Wiii Mi;>i,, r , . i Ii : if, especially 
 (.nii)i--ii- I; i II i i, ii ., ii , Ii. .Ii. .1 :n lil88,aged6S. 
 
 
 
 Wr;.ya,idU.i> Ii..,,. 4VI0, 
 
 PesLv,'. 
 
 
 Wreckers, 2.iii 
 
 291- J •' 
 
 1 i. :, M - ■ lllym- 
 
 
 pus, r,r, i' , . 
 
 ; 1, . , ; .; 1. .iiin . i ,.|u:il cul- 
 
 Wrestl'ing-iii'i'h'i., . -i li-s 92. 
 
 
 : , . |.«l.l,;,llUlltiTlg, 
 
 Wretchedn.--. > ii, n ' ;i : |^ ; sympathy, 399. 
 
 2'92;".'''i . " 
 
 lii.ilist, astronomer, 
 
 Wryneck, 133. 
 
 SChul:,i, 
 
 
 year, the, its changes ; m : . .i n. ,. .i.-^iU. 
 
 Wine, ^. 1 • - , 1 ....1 
 
 ,,. >,4j;— how, when, 
 
 YocNG, Edwabd, author ni \i h, i h. , i. . , burn at Up- 
 
 and ivlr 
 
 
 ham, in Hampshire, »h. , h - lil i ... - r-ctor. Edu- 
 
 Winter, i' i : 
 
 '.-;:.15; — reluctant 
 
 i !■; II -i-l ; 1 1 
 
 cated at llM-nl, he cna... iii...! . ..i.Ui. r .in.l poet in 1712, 
 iiii.l . iiiiiii ii 1. .1, lill his death, at eighty-four years of 
 
 f01-'h"i.-. '• .1 - : . 
 
 
 
 
 
 \ . ' loiinortality,'358. 
 
 226 ;- " ' ■ ' 
 
 
 1 I uld Wife; steady wind and safe 
 
 gam. -, 
 
 
 
 door .; :. i 
 
 
 : .ii. ,. .i , .1 , . , ; ).,;., ..-|,.i.,,ilii l.,ul..-.love, 13; — 
 ■ :;■ .' iiiity, andmcl- 
 
 lOScI).]'". , : 1 . 
 
 
 ■' ; , ' , ','.,; ... .i t''' . i ■'<• 1'. c. 400. 
 
 villa;;-!. ■ : •. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 frolic-. : 1 . 
 
 1 • 1 : - - •. . 
 
 
 402, J"., .1 ■ . 
 
 
 ... i. ... .1.. J . '1 . ! i . . '. . i J '. ■, 
 
 TimV ' 1! " ' '■ 
 
 ," '""■; 1 , ' ' 
 
 ' ' , " ii' tlie W.ii-('l!Bit Llecem- 
 
 until"" ^'. 
 
 I : ,1 . ■' 1 . 
 
 , 1 Water-bearer, January 
 
 42:i-,- ,,■- ..' 
 446;- '•..•, !■■ !Mii:. 
 
 
 /.'. .: . ii. 1 1,1 11.. . \ '.,'il's live zones, 210. 
 
 46S, 4.-,i ;.-.|.].:illiUr 
 
 
 
 liant, 477. 
 
 
 
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