THE 
 
 SEASONS, 
 
 HYMNS, OBE, ANI> SONGS, 
 
 OF 
 
 JAMES THOMSON ; 
 
 WITH 
 
 HIS LIFE, BY MR. MURDOCH^ 
 
 AND A COMPLETE 
 
 GLOSSARY AND INDEX. 
 
 WITH PLATES. 
 
 
 STEREOTYPE EDITION. 
 
 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY A, WILSON, 
 
 Duke Street, Ijncoln’s-Iim Fields; 
 
 FOR TAA'I.OR AND flESSEY, 93, FLEET STREET ; AND VERNOR, 
 HOOD AND SHARPE, 31, POULTRY. 
 
 1S09 
 

 , . ■*^ jy ^ . |w*’ . ' 
 
 :;r:«' 
 
 
 'VRs 
 
 3 ^ 32 .. 
 
 •^H ., 
 
 IBO^ 
 
 ([^ E^ fo£iS?<\ 
 
 ■/.v 
 
 v<»jot! T' lH*n /{**'»;-■. :..v 
 
 • V- 'o ,rUtJT‘», :•» #f ;V! 
 
 • . -j ■ •f’^* *U ^ ^ I ■ f ^ 
 
 / • •. • 
 
 ' ‘ v ;7)iL(' i ■^'' •■tf-H 
 
 'fiun’jo 2i Ti». 
 
 : u{ 
 
 ' " ^ \ fi y 1 js4^ 
 
 J-W .§^i.’ :\lfi ,^{S 
 
 'f^ . ! ■'■ -i. .'Tgai fccvf':^ 
 f l! ?ii f.' 5i(.' 
 
 -' 1? Si^-. ^ k<J^' -d^iTO 
 
 •,•.'-■5; '< . atiirr'^^ :U : -^k.-^wf-a .u'-iOjll» 
 
 .•» • ■>: lf»Ui brtd-J '^Oli'H: 
 
 hfdw ■ .": •^- r 
 
 ^ ‘tc ,5vi^:-’:q oi 
 a .. ^K£ 3t»)Jq ^gotd 
 
 r<^7Xii9ai'ie ufw -jt., lodjus lo i:K‘i.(ji:<:iiiir’'yrra fiid/ 
 
 ■ 'r ■• ' ■' i- ^'n!.:'- .■?'■■-; ^ '.v’ ‘»UJ( woidi 
 
 ■■■>ii*'- oi?v»l *- ,>« ilsi?< Usds 
 
ACCOUNT 
 
 OF 
 
 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS 
 
 OF 
 
 THOMSON. 
 
 It is commonly said, that the life of a good writer is best read 
 in his works ; which can scarce fail to receive a peculiar tinc- 
 ture from his temper, manners, and habits ; the distinguishing 
 character of his mind, his ruling passion, at least, will there 
 appear undisguised. But however just this observation may 
 be, and although we might safely rest Thomson’s fame, as a 
 good man, as well as a man of genius, on this sole footing ; 
 yet the desire which the Public always shew of being more 
 particularly acquainted with the history of an eminent author, 
 ought not to be disappointed ; as it proceeds not from mere 
 curiosity, but chiefly from affection and gratitude to those by 
 whom they have been entertained and instructed. 
 
 To give some account of a deceased friend is often a piece of 
 justice likewise, which ought not to be refused to his memory; 
 to prevent or efface the impertinent fictions which officious 
 biographers are so apt to collect and propagate. And we may 
 add, that the circumstances of an author’s life will sometimes 
 throw the best light upon his writings ; instances whereof wo 
 shall meet with in the following pages. 
 
6 
 
 LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 James Thomson was born at Ednam, in the shire of Rox- 
 burgh, on the 1 1th of September, in the year 1700. His father, 
 minister of that place, was but little known beyond the narrow 
 circle of his co-presbyters, and to a few gentlemen in the 
 neighbourhood ; but highly respected by them, for his piety, 
 and his diligence in the pastoral duty: as appeared afterwards, 
 in their kind offices to his widow and orphan family. 
 
 The reverend Messrs. Riccarton and Gusthart, particularly, 
 took a most affectionate and friendly part in all their concerns. 
 The former, a man of uncommon penetration and good taste, 
 had very early discovered, through the rudeness of young 
 Thomson’s puerile essays, a fund of genius well deserving cul- 
 ture and encouragement. He undertook, therefore, with the 
 father’s approbation, the chief direction of his studies, fur- 
 nished him with the proper books, corrected his performances, 
 and was daily rewarded with the pleasure of seeing his labour 
 so happily employed. , 
 
 The other reverend gentleman, Mr. Gusthart, who is still 
 living*, one of the ministers of Edinburgh, and senior of the 
 Chapel Royal, was no less serviceable to Mrs. Thomson in the 
 management t)f her little affairs ; which, after the decease of 
 her husband, burdened as she was with a family of nine chil- 
 dren, required the prudent counsels and assistance of that 
 faithful and generous friend. 
 
 Sii M illiam Rennet likewise, well known for his gay humour 
 and ready poetical wit, was highly delighted with our young 
 poet, and used to invite him to pass the summer vacation at 
 his country’ seat : a scene of life which Thomson always 
 remembered with particular pleasure. But what he wrote 
 
LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 .7 
 
 during that time, either to entertain Sir William and Mr. Ric- 
 carton, or for his own amusement, he destroyed every new 
 year’s day ; committing his little pieces to the flames, in their 
 due order ; and crowning the solemnity with a copy of verses, 
 in which were humorously recited the several grounds of their 
 condemnation. 
 
 After the usual course of school education, under an able 
 master at Jedburgh, Thomson was sent to the University of 
 Edinburgh. But in the second year of his admission, his studies 
 were for some time interrupted by the death of his father; 
 who was carried off so suddenly, that it was not possible for 
 Thomson, with all the diligence he could use, to receive his last 
 blessing. This affected him to an uncommon degree ; and his 
 relations still remember some extraordinary instances of his 
 grief and filial duty on that occasion. 
 
 Mrs. Thomson, whose maiden name was Hume, and who 
 was co-heiress of a small estate in the country, did not sink 
 under this misfortune. She consulted her friend Mr. Gusthart : 
 and having, by his advice, mortgaged her moiety of the farm, 
 repaired with her family to Edinburgh ; where she lived in a 
 decent, fhigal manner, till her favourite son had not only 
 finished his academical course, but was even distinguished and 
 patronised as a man of genius. She was, herself, a person of 
 uncommon natural endowments ; possessed of every social and 
 domestic virtue ; with an imagination, for vivacity and warmth, 
 scarce inferior to her son’s, and which raised her devotional 
 exercises to a pitch bordering on enthusiasm. 
 
 But whatever advantage Thomson might derive from the 
 complexion of his parent, it is certain he owed much to a re- 
 ligious education ; and that liis early acquaintance with tlie 
 
B 
 
 LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 sacred writings, contributed greatly to that suhlimef by which 
 his works will be for ever distinguished. In his first pieces, 
 the Seasons, we see him at once assume the majestic freedom 
 of an Eastern writer ; seizing the grand images as they rise, 
 clothing them in his own expressive language, and preserving, 
 throughout, the grace, the variety, and the dignity, which be- 
 long to a just composition, unhurt by the stiffness of formal 
 method. 
 
 About this time, the study of poetry was become general in 
 Scotland, the best English authors being universally read, and 
 imitations of them attempted. Addison had lately displayed 
 the beauties of Milton’s immortal work ; and his remarks on 
 it, together with Pope’s celebrated Essay, had opened the way 
 to an acquaintance with the best poets and critics. 
 
 But the most learned critic is not always the best judge of 
 poetiy ; taste being a gift of nature, the want of which 
 Aristotle and Bossu cannot supply ; nor even the study of the 
 best originals, when the reader’s faculties are not tuned in a 
 certain co7isonance to those of the poet : and this happened to 
 be the case with certain learned gentlemen, into whose hands 
 a few of Thomson’s first essays had fallen. Some inaccuracies 
 of style, and those luxuriances which a young writer can 
 hardly avoid, lay open to their cavils and censure ; so far in- 
 deed they might be competent judges : but the fire and en- 
 thusiasm of the poet had entirely escaped their notice. Thom- 
 son, however, conscious of his ow’n strength, was not dis- 
 couraged by this treatment ; especially as he had some friends 
 on whose judgment he could better rely, and who thought 
 very differently of his performances. Only, from that time, he 
 began to turn his views towards London ; where works of ge- 
 nius may always expect a candid reception and due encourage- 
 
LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 9 
 
 ment ; and an accident soon after entirely determined him to 
 try his fortune there. 
 
 The divinity chair at Edinburgh was then filled by the re- 
 verend and learned Mr. Hamilton ; a gentleman universally 
 respected and beloved ; and who had particularly endeared 
 himself to the young divines under his care, by his kind offices, 
 his candour and affability. Our author had attended his lec- 
 tures for about a year, when there was prescribed tf> him, for 
 the subject of an exercise, a psalm, in which the power and 
 majesty of God are celebrated. Of this psalm he gave a para- 
 phrase and illustration, as the nature of the exercise required; 
 but in a style so highly poetical as surprised the whole 
 audience. Mr. Hamilton, as his custom was, complimented 
 the orator upon his performance, and pointed out to the stu- 
 dents the most masterly striking parts of it ; but at last, turn- 
 ing to Thomson, he told him, smiling, that if he thought of 
 being useful in the ministry, he must keep a stricter rein upon 
 his imagination, and express himself in language more intelli- 
 gible to an ordinary congregation. 
 
 This gave Thomson to understand, that his expectations 
 from the study of theology might be very precarious ; even 
 though the Church had been more his free choice than pro- 
 bably it was. So that having, soon after, received some en- 
 couragement from a lady of quality, a friend of his mother’s, 
 then in London, he quickly prepared himself for his journey. 
 And although this encouragement ended in nothing beneficial, 
 it served for the present as a good pretext, to cover the im- 
 prudence of committing himself to the wide world, unfriended 
 and unpatronised, and with the slender stock of money he was 
 then possessed of. 
 
10 
 
 LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 But his merit did not longj lie concealed. Mr. Forbes, after- 
 wards Lord President of the Session, then attending the service 
 of Parliament, having seen a specimen of Thomson’s poetry in 
 Scotland, received him very kindly, and recommended him to 
 some of his friends ; particularly to Mr. Aikman, who lived 
 in great intimacy with many persons of distinguished rank and 
 worth. This gentleman, from a connoisseur in painting, was 
 become a professed painter ; and his taste being no less just 
 and delicate in the kindred art of descriptive poetry, than in 
 his own, no wonder that he soon conceived a friendship for our 
 author. What warm return he met with, and how Thomson 
 was affected by his friend’s premature death, appears in the 
 copy of verses which he wrote on that occasion. 
 
 In the mean time, our author’s reception, wherever he was 
 introduced, emboldened him to risque the publication of his 
 Winter : in which, as himself was a mere novice in such mat- 
 ters, he was kindly assisted by Mr. Mallet, then private tutor 
 to his Grace the Duke of Montrose, and his bi’other the Lord 
 George Graham^ so well known afterwards as an able and gal- 
 lant sea-officer. To Mr. Mallet he likewise owed his first ac- 
 quaintance with several of the wits of that time ; an exact in- 
 formation of their characters, personal and poetical, and how 
 they stood affected to each other. 
 
 The poem of Winter, published in March 1726, was no 
 sooner read than universally admired ; those only excepted 
 who had not been used to feel, or to look for, any thing in 
 poetry, beyond .a point of satirical or epigrammatic wit, a 
 smart antithesis richly trimmed with rhyme, or the softness 
 of an elegiac complaint. To such his manly classical spirit 
 «ould not readily recommend itself ; till, after a more atten- 
 
LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 11 
 
 tive perusal, they had got the better of their prejudices, and 
 either acquired or affected a truer taste. A few others stood 
 aloof, merely because they had long before fixed the articles 
 of their poetical cx’eed, and resigned themselves to an absolute 
 despair of ever seeing any thing new and original. These were 
 somewhat mortified to find their notions disturbed by the ap- 
 pearance of a poet, who seemed to owe nothing but to nature 
 and his own genius. But, in a short time, the applause be- 
 came unanimous ; every one wondering how so many pictures, 
 and pictures so familiar, should have moved them but faintly 
 to what they felt in his descriptions. His digressions too, the 
 overflowings of a tender, benevolent heart, charmed the reader 
 no less ; leaving him in doubt, whether he should more admire 
 the Poet, or love the Man. 
 
 From that time, Thomson’s acquaintance was courted by all 
 men of taste ; and several ladies of high rank and distinction 
 became his declared patronesses : the Countess of Hertford, 
 Miss Drelincourt, afterwards Viscountess Primrose, Mrs. .Stan- 
 ley, and others. But the chief happiness which his Winter 
 procured him was, that it brought him acquainted with Dr. 
 Bundle, afterwards Lord Bishop of Derry ; who, upon con- 
 versing with Thomson, and finding in him qualities greater 
 still, and of more value, than those of a poet, received him 
 into his intimate confidence and friendship ; promoted his cha- 
 racter every where; introduced him to his great friend the 
 Lord Chancellor Talbot ; and, some years after, when the 
 eldest son of that nobleman was to make his tour of travelling, 
 recommended Thomson as a proper companion for him. His 
 affection and gratitude to Dr. Bundle, and his indignation at 
 the treatment that worthy prelate had met with, are finely 
 expressed in his poem to the memory of Lord Talbot. The true 
 eause of that undeserved treatment has been seereted from the 
 
|i I1S LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 ^ Public, as well as the dark manoeuvres that were employed : 
 
 i but Thomson, who had access to the best information, places 
 
 it to the account of 
 
 Slanderous zeal, and politics infirm, 
 
 j Jealous of worth. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 I Meanwhile our poet’s chief care had been, in return for the 
 
 j public favour, to finish the plan which their wishes laid out 
 
 I for him ; and the expectations which his Winter had raised, 
 
 I I were fully satisfied by the successive publication of the other 
 
 j Seasons : of Summer in the year 1727 ; of Spring, in the be- 
 
 I j ginning of the following year ; and of Autumn, in a quarto 
 
 I edition of his works, printed in 1730. 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 i In that edition, the Seasons are placed in their natural order: 
 
 i and crowned with that inimitable Hymn, in which we view 
 
 I them in their beautiful succession, as one whole, the immediate 
 
 I effect of infinite Power and Goodness. In imitation of the 
 
 Hebrew Bard, all nature is called forth to do homage to the 
 Creator, and the reader is left enraptured in silent adoration 
 j and praise. 
 
 i 
 
 , Besides these, and his tragedy of Sophonisba, written and 
 
 acted with applause, in the year 1729, Thomson had, in 1727, 
 published his poem to the memory of Sir Isaac Newton, then 
 lately deceased ; containing a deserved encomium of that in- 
 comparable man, with an account of his chief discoveries ; 
 sublimely poetical ; and yet so just, that an ingenious foreigner, 
 the Count Algarotti, takes a line of it for the text of his phi- 
 losophical dialogues, II Neutonianismo per le dame : this was 
 in part owing to the assistance he had of his friend Mr. Gray, 
 a gentleman well versed in the Newtonian Philosophy, who. 
 
 'm 
 
 
LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 IS 
 
 on that occasion, gave him a very exact, though general, 
 abstract of its principles. 
 
 That same year, the resentment of our merchants, for the 
 interruption of their trade by the Spaniards in America, run- 
 ning very high, Thomson zealously took part in it ; and wrote 
 his poem Britannia, to rouse the nation to revenge. And al- 
 though this piece is the less read, that its subject was but 
 accidental and temporary, the spirited generous sentiments 
 that enrich it, can never be out of season ; they will at least 
 remain a monument of that love of his country-, that devotion 
 to the Public, which he is ever inculcating as the perfection of 
 virtue, and which none ever felt more pure, or more intense, 
 than himself. 
 
 Our author’s poetical studies were now to be interrupted, 
 or rather improved, by his attendance on the Honourable 
 Mr. Charles Talbot in his travels. A delightful task indeed ! 
 endowed as that young nobleman was by nature, and accom- 
 plished by the care and example of the best of fathers, in 
 whatever could adorn humanity : graceful of person, elegant 
 in manners and address, pious, humane, generous ; with an 
 exquisite taste in all the finer arts. 
 
 With this amiable companion and friend, Thomson visited 
 roost of the courts and capital cities of Europe ^ and returned 
 with his views greatly enlarged ; not of exterior nature only, 
 and the works of art, but of human life and manners, of the 
 constitution and policy of the several states, their connexions, 
 and their religious institutions. How particular and judicious 
 his observations were, we see in his poem of Liberty, begun 
 soon after his return to England. We see, at the same time, 
 to what a high pitch his love of his country was raised, by the 
 
LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 comparisons he had all along been making of our happy well- 
 poised government with those of other nations. To inspire 
 his fellow-subjects with the like sentiments, and to shew them 
 by what means the precious freedom we enjoy may be pre- 
 served, and how it may be abused or lost, he employed two 
 years of his life in composing that noble work : upon which, 
 conscious of the importance and dignity of the subject, he 
 valued himself more than upon all his other writings. 
 
 While Thomson was writing the first part of Liberty, he 
 received a severe shock, by the death of his noble friend and 
 fellow-traveller ; which was soon followed by another that was 
 severer still, and of more general concern ; the death of Lord 
 Talbot himself ; which Thomson so pathetically and so justly 
 laments in the poem dedicated to his memory. In him the 
 nation saw itself deprived of an uncorrupted patriot, the faith- 
 ful guardian of their rights, on whose wisdom and integrity 
 they had founded their hopes of relief from many tedious 
 vexations : and Thomson, besides his share in the general 
 mourning, had to bear all the affliction which a heart like his 
 could feel, for the person whom, of all mankind, he most 
 revered and loved. At the same time, he found himself, from 
 an easy competency, reduced to a state of precarious depend- 
 ence, in which he passed the remainder of his life ; excepting 
 only the two last years of it, during which he enjoyed the 
 place of Surveyor-General of the Leeward Islands, procured 
 for him by the generous friendship of my Lord Lyttelton. 
 
 Immediately upon his return to England with Mr. Talbot, 
 the Chancellor had made him his Secretary of Briefs ; a place 
 of little attendance, suiting his retired indolent way of life, 
 and equal to all his wants. This place fell with his patron ; 
 ,and although the noble Lord who succeeded to Lord Talbot in 
 
LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 15 
 
 office, kept it vacant for some time, probably till Thomson 
 should apply for it, he was so dispirited, and so listless to every 
 concern of that kind, that he never took one step in the affair; 
 a neglect which his best friends greatly blamed in him. 
 
 Yet could not his genius be depressed, or his temper hurt, 
 by this reverse of fortune. He resumed, with time, his usual 
 cheerfulness, and never abated one article in his way of living; 
 which, though simple, was genial and elegant. The profits 
 arising from his works were not inconsiderable : his tragedy of 
 Agamemnon, acted in 1738, yielded a good sum ; Mr. Millar 
 was always at hand, to answer, or even to prevent his de- 
 mands ; and he had a friend or two besides, whose hearts, he 
 knew, were not contracted by the ample fortunes they had ac- 
 quired ; who would, of themselves, interpose, if they saw any 
 occasion for it. 
 
 But his chief dependence, during this long interval, was on 
 the protection and bounty of his Royal Highness Frederic 
 Prince of Wales; who, upon the recommendation of Lord Lyt- 
 telton, then his chief favourite, settled on him a handsome 
 allowance. And afterwards, when he was introduced to his 
 Royal Highness, that excellent prince, who truly was what 
 Thomson paints him, the friend of mankind and of merity 
 received him very graciously, and ever after honoured him 
 with many marks of particular favour and confidence. A cir- 
 cumstance, which does equal honour to the patron and the 
 poet, ought not here to be omitted ; that my Lord Lyttelton’s 
 recommendation came altogether unsolicited, and long before 
 Thomson was personally known to him. 
 
 It happened, however, that the favour of his Royal Highness 
 was in one instance of some prejudice to our author ; in the 
 

 
 
 18 LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 refusal of a licence for his tragedy of Edward and Eleonora, 
 which he had prepared for the stage in the year 1739. The 
 reader may see that this play contains not a line which could 
 justly give offence ; but the ministry, still sore from certain 
 pasquinades, which had lately produced the stage act ; and as 
 little satisfied with some part of the prince’s political conduct, 
 as he was with their management of the public affairs, would 
 not risque the representation of a piece written under his eye, 
 and, they might probably think, by his command. 
 
 This refusal drew after it another ; and in a way which, as 
 it is related, was rather ludicrous. Mr. Paterson, a companion 
 of Thomson, afterwards his deputy and then his successor 
 in the general-surveyorship, used to write out fair copies for 
 his friend, when such were wanted for the press or for the 
 stage. This gentleman likewise courted the tragic muse, and 
 had taken for his subject the story of Arminius the German 
 hero. But his play, guiltless as it was, being presented for a 
 licence, no sooner had the censor cast his eyes on the hand- 
 writing in which he had seen Edward and Eleonora, than he 
 cried out, “ Away with it !” and the author’s profits were 
 reduced to what his bookseller could afford for a tragedy in 
 distress* 
 
 Thomson’s next dramatic performance was the Masque of 
 Alfred ; written, jointly with Mr. Mallet, by command of the 
 Prince of Wales, for the entertainment of his Royal Highness’s 
 court, at his summer residence. This piece, with some alter- 
 ations, and the music new, has been since brought upon the 
 stage by Mr. Mallet. It was acted at Clifden, in the year 1740, 
 on tlie birth-day of her Royal Highness the Princess Augusta. 
 
 In the year 1745, his Tancred and Sigismunda, taken from 
 
LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 17 
 
 the novel in Gil Bias, was performed with applause ; and from 
 the deep romantic distress of the lovers, continues to draw 
 crowded houses. The success of this piece was indeed insured 
 from the first by Mr. Garrick and Mrs. Cibber, who appeared 
 in the principal characters ; which they heightened and adorned 
 with all the magic of their never-failing art. 
 
 He had, in the mean time, been finishing his Castle of In- 
 dolence, in two Cantos. It was, at first, little more than a 
 few detached stanzas, in the way of raillery on himself, and, 
 on some of his friends, who would reproach him with indolence ; 
 while he thought them, at least, as indolent as himself. But 
 he saw veiy soon, that the subject deserved to be treated more 
 seriously, and in a form fitted to convey one of the most im- 
 portant moral lessons. 
 
 The stanza which he uses in this work is that of Spenser, 
 borrowed from the Italian poets ; in which he thought rhymes 
 had their proper place, and were even graceful : the compass 
 of the stanza admitting an agreeable variety of final sounds : 
 while the sense of the poet is not cramped or cut short, nor 
 yet too much dilated ; as must often happen, when it is par- 
 celled out into rhymed couplets ; the usual measure indeed of 
 our elegy and satire ; but which always weakens the higher 
 poetry, and, to a true ear, will sometimes give it an air of the 
 burlesque. 
 
 This was the last piece Thomson himself published ; his 
 tragedy of Coriolanus being only prepared for the theatre, 
 when a fatal accident robbed the world of one of the best men, 
 and best poets, that lived in it, 
 
 • He had always been a timorous horseman ; and more so. 
 
18 
 
 LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 in a road where numbers of ^ddy or unskilful riders are con- 
 tinually passing; so that, when the weather did not invite 
 him to go by water, he would commonly walk the distance be- 
 tween London and Richmond, with any acquaintance that 
 offered ; with whom he might chat and rest himself, or perhaps 
 dine, by the way. One summer evening, being alone, in his 
 walk from town to Hammersmith, he had overheated himself, 
 and, in that condition, imprudently took a boat to carry him 
 to Kew ; apprehending no bad consequence from the chill air 
 on the river, which his walk to his house, at the upper end of 
 Kew-lane, had always hitherto prevented. But now the cold 
 had so seized him, that next day he found himself in a high 
 fever, so much the more to be dreaded that he was of a full 
 habit. This, however, by the use of proper medicines, was re- 
 moved, so that he was thought to be out of danger : till the 
 fine weather having tempted him to expose himself once more 
 to the evening dews, his fever returned with violence, and with 
 such symptoms as left no hopes of a cure. Two days had passed 
 before his relapse was known in town ; at last, Mr. Mitchell 
 and Mr. Reid, with Dr. Armstrong, being informed of it, 
 posted out at midnight to his assistance : but, alas ! came only 
 to endure a sight of all others the most shocking to nature, 
 the last agonies of their beloved friend. This lamented death 
 happened on the 27th day of August, 1748. 
 
 His testamentary executors were, the Lord L 5 i;telton, whose 
 care of our poet’s fortune and fame ceased not with his life ; 
 and Mr. Mitchell, a gentleman equally noted for the truth and 
 constancy of his private friendships, and for his address and 
 spirit as a public minister. By their united interest, the orphan 
 play of Coriolanus was brought on the stage to the best advan- 
 tage : from the profits of which, and the sale of manuscripts, 
 and other effects, all demands were duly satisfied, and a hand- 
 
LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 
 some sum remitted to his sisters. My Lord Lyttelton s pro- 
 logue to this piece was admired as one of the best that had ever 
 been written : the best spoken it certainly was. The sympathiz- 
 ing audience saw that then, indeed, Mr. Quin was wo actor ; 
 that the tears he shed were those of real friendship and 
 grief. 
 
 Thomson’s remains were deposited in the church of Rich- 
 mond, under a plain stone, without any inscription : nor did 
 his brother poets at ail exert themselves on the occasion, as 
 they had lately done for one who had been the terror of 
 poets all his life-time. This silence furnished matter to one of 
 his friends for an excellent satirical epigram, w'hich we are 
 sorry we cannot give the reader. Only one gentleman, Mr. 
 Collins, who had lived some time at Richmond, but forsook it 
 when Thomson died, wrote an ode to his memory. This, for 
 the dirge-like melancholy it breathes, and the warmth of 
 affection that seems to have dictated it, we shall subjoin to 
 the present account. 
 
 Our author himself hints, somewhere in his works, that his 
 exterior was not the most promising ; his make being rather 
 robust than graceful : though it is known that in his youth he 
 had been thought handsome. His worst appearance was, 
 when you saw him walking alone, in a thoughtful mood : but 
 let a friend accost him, and enter into conversation, he would 
 instantly brighten into a most amiable aspect, his features no 
 longer the same, and his eye darting a peculiar animated fire. 
 The case was much alike in company; where, if it was mixed, 
 or very numerous, he made but an indifferent figure : but with 
 a few select friends, he was open, sprightly, and entertaining. 
 His wit flowed freely, but pertinently, and at due intervals, 
 leaving room for every one to contribute his share. Such was 
 
i!i“i 
 
 LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 his extreme sensibility, so perfect the harmony of his organs 
 with the sentiments of his mind, that his looks always an- 
 nounced, and half expressed, what he was about to say ; and 
 his voice corresponded exactly to the manner and degree in 
 which he was affected. This sensibility had one inconvenience 
 attending it, that it rendered him the very worst reader of 
 good poetry : a sonnet, or a copy of tame verses, he could 
 manage pretty well ; or even improve them in the reading : but 
 a paissage of Virgil, Milton, or Shakespeare, would sometimes 
 quite oppress him, that you could hear little else than some 
 ill-articulated sounds, rising as from the bottom of his breast. 
 
 He had improved his taste upon the best originals, ancient 
 and modern ; but could not bear to write what was not 
 strictly his own, what had not more immediately struck his 
 imagination, or touched his heart : so that he is not in the 
 least concerned in that question about the merit or demerit of 
 imitators. What he borrows from the ancients, he gives us 
 in an avowed faithful paraphrase or translation ; as we see in 
 a few passages taken from Virgil, and in that beautiful picture 
 from Pliny tbe elder, where the course, and gradual increase, 
 of the Nile, are figured by the stages of man’s life. 
 
 The autumn was his favourite season for poetical composi- 
 tion, and the deep silence of the night, the time he commonly 
 chose for such studies ; so that he would often be heard walk- 
 ing in his library till near mornirjg, humming over, in his 
 way, what he was to correct and write out next day. 
 
 The amusements of his leisure hours were civil and natural 
 history, voyages, and the relations of travellers, the most au- 
 thentic he could procure : and, had his situation favoured it, 
 he would certainly have excelled in gardening, agriculture. 
 
LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 21 
 
 and every rural improvement and exercise. Although he per- 
 formed on no instrument, he was passionately fond of music, 
 and would sometimes listen a full hour at his window to the 
 nightingales in Richmond gardens. While abroad, he had 
 been greatly delighted with the regular Italian drama, such as 
 Metastasio writes ; as it is there heightened by the charms of 
 the best voices and instruments ; and looked upon our theatri- 
 cal entertainments as, in one respect, naked and imperfect, 
 when compared with the ancient, or with those of Italy; wish- 
 ing sometimes that a chorus, at least, and a better recitative, 
 could be introduced. 
 
 Nor was his taste less exquisite in the arts of painting, 
 sculpture, and architecture. In his travels he had seen all the 
 most celebrated monuments of antiquity, and the best pro- 
 ductions of modern art ; and studied them so minutely, and 
 with so true a judgment, that in some of his descriptions, in 
 the poem of Liberty, w'e have the master-pieces there men- 
 tioned placed in a stronger light perhaps than if we saw them 
 with our eyes ; at least more justly delineated than in any 
 other account extant : so superior is a natural taste of the 
 grand and beautiful, to the traditional lessons of a common 
 virtuoso. His collection of prints, and some drawings from 
 the antique, are now in the possession of his friend Mr. Gray, 
 of Richmond Hill. 
 
 As for his more distinguishing qualities of mind and heart, 
 they are better represented in his writings than they can be 
 by the pen of any biographer. There, his love of mankind, of 
 his country and friends, his devotion to the Supreme Being, 
 founded on the most elevated and just conceptions of his opera- 
 tions and providence, shine out in every page. So unbounded 
 was his tenderness of heart, that it took in even the brutp 
 
32 
 
 LIFE OF THOMSON. 
 
 creation : judge what it must have been towards his own 
 species. He is not indeed known, through his whole life, to 
 have given any person one moment’s pain, by his writings or 
 otherwise. He took no part in the poetical squabbles which 
 happened in his time ; and w'as respected and left undisturbed 
 by both sides. He would even refuse to take offence when he 
 justly might ; by interrupting any personal story that was 
 brought him, with some jest, or some humorous apology for 
 the offender. Nor was he ever seen ruffled or discomposed, 
 but when he read or heard of some flagrant instance of injus- 
 tice, oppression, or cruelty; then, indeed, the strongest marks 
 of horror and indignation were visible in his countenance. 
 
 These amiable virtues, this divine temper of mind, did not 
 fail of their due rewai’d. His friends loved him with enthusi- 
 astic ardour, and lamented his untimely fate in the manner 
 that is still fresh in evei-y one’s memoiy; the best and greatest 
 men of his time honoured him with their friendship and pro- 
 tection ; the applause of the public attended every appearance 
 he made ; the actors, of whom the more eminent were his 
 friends and admirers, grudging no pains to do justice to his 
 tragedies. At present, indeed, if we except Tancred, they are 
 seldom called for ; the simplicity of his plots, and the models 
 he worked after, not suiting the reigning taste, nor the im- 
 patience of an English theatre. They may hereafter come to 
 be in vogue: but we hazard no comment or conjecture upon 
 them, or upon any part of Thomson’s works ; neither need 
 they any defence or apology, after the reception they have had 
 at home, and in the foreign languages into which they have 
 been translated. We shall only say, that, to judge from the 
 imitations' of his manner^ which have been following him close, 
 from the very first publication of Winter, he seems to have 
 fixed no inconsiderable aera of the English poetry. 
 
[ 23 ] 
 
 ODE 
 
 ON 
 
 THE DEATH OF THOMSON, 
 
 BY MR. COLLINS. 
 
 [The scene of the following stanzas is supposed to lie on the Thames, 
 near Richmond.] 
 
 In yonder grave a Druid lies, 
 
 Where slowly winds the stealing wave ! 
 
 The year’s best sweets shall duteous rise 
 To deck its Poet’s sylvan grave I 
 
 In yon deep bed of whispering reeds 
 His airy harp * shall now be laid. 
 
 That he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds, 
 
 May love thro’ life the soothing shade. 
 
 Then maids and youths shall linger here. 
 
 And while its sounds at distance swell. 
 
 Shall sadly seem in Pity’s ear. 
 
 To hear the Woodland Pilgrim’s knell. 
 
 Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore 
 W’hen Thames in summer Wreaths is drest. 
 
 And oft suspend the dashing oar 
 To bid his gentle spirit rest 1 
 
 The harp of jEoIiis, of which see a description in the Castle of Indolence. 
 
24 
 
 ODE ON THE DEATH OF THOMSON. 
 
 And oft as Ease and Health retire 
 To breezy lawn, or forest deep, 
 
 The friend shall view yon whitening spire *, 
 And ’mid the varied landscape weep. 
 
 But Thou, who own’st that earthy bed. 
 
 Ah ! what will every dirge avail ? 
 
 Or tears, which Love and Pity shed. 
 
 That mourn beneath the gliding sail ! 
 
 Yet lives there one, whose heedless eye 
 
 Shall scorn thy pale shrine glimm’ring near ? 
 
 With him, sweet bard, may Fancy die. 
 
 And Joy desert the blooming year. 
 
 But thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide 
 No sedge-crown’d Sisters now attend, ■ 
 
 Now waft me from the green hill’s side 
 Whose cold turf hides the buried friend ! 
 
 And see the fairy valleys fade. 
 
 Dun Night has veil’d the solemn view ! 
 
 Yet once again, dear parted shade. 
 
 Meek Nature’s Child again adieu ! 
 
 The genial meads assign’d to bless 
 Thy life, shall mourn thy early doom. 
 
 Their hinds and shepherd-girls shall dress. 
 
 With simple hands, thy rural tomb. 
 
 Long, long, thy stone, and pointed clay. 
 
 Shall melt the musing Briton’s eyes ; 
 
 O ! vales, and wild woods, shall he say. 
 
 In yonder grave Your Druid lies ! 
 
 * Richmond Church. 
 
ESSAY 
 
 ON 
 
 THE PLAN AND CHARACTER 
 
 OF 
 
 THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 AY HEN a work of art, to masterly execution adds novelty of 
 design, it demands not only a cursory admiration, but such a 
 mature enquiry into the principles upon which it has been 
 formed, as may determine how far it deserves to be received 
 as a model for future attempts in the same walk. Originals 
 are always rare productions. The performances of artists in 
 general, even of those who stand high in their respective 
 classes, are only imitations ; which have more or less merit, 
 in proportion to the degree of skill and judgment with which 
 they copy originals more or less excellent. A good original, 
 therefore, forms an aera in the art itself ; and the history of 
 every art divides itself into periods comprehending the intervals 
 between the appearance of different approved originals. Some- 
 times, indeed, various models of a very different cast may 
 exercise the talents of imitators during a single period ; and 
 this will more frequently be the case, as arts become more ge- 
 nerally known and studied ; difference of taste being always 
 the result of liberal and varied pursuit. 
 
26 
 
 ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 How strongly these periods are marked in the history of 
 Poetry, both ancient and modern, a cursory view will suffice 
 to shew. The scarcity of originals here is universally acknow- 
 ledged and lamented, and the present race of poets are thought 
 particularly chargeable with this defect. It ought, however, 
 to be allowed in their favour, that if genius has declined, taste 
 has improved ; and that if they imitate more, they choose 
 better models to copy after. 
 
 That Thomson’s Seasons is the original whence our modern 
 descriptive poets have derived that more elegant and correct 
 style of painting natural objects which distinguishes them from 
 their immediate predecessors, will, I think, appear evident to 
 one who examines their several casts and manners. That none 
 of them, however, have yet equalled their master ; and that 
 his performance is an exquisite piece, replete with beauties 
 of the most engaging and delightful kind, will be sensibly felt 
 by all of congenial taste ; — and perhaps no poem was ever 
 ' composed which addressed itself to the feelings of a greater 
 number of readers. It is, therefore, on every account, an 
 object well worthy the attention of criticism ; and an enquiry 
 into the peculiar nature of its plan, and the manner of its 
 €xecution, may be an agreeable introduction to a re-perusal 
 of it in the elegant edition now offered to the public. 
 
 The description of such natural objects as by their beauty, 
 grandeur, or novelty, agreeably impress the imagination, has 
 at all times been a principal and favourite occupation of 
 poetry. Various have been the methods in which such de- 
 scriptions have been introduced. They have been made sub- 
 servient to the purposes of ornament and illustration, in the 
 more elevated and abstracted kind of poetry, by being used as 
 objects of similitude. They have constituted a pleasing and 
 
ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 27 
 
 necessaiy part of epic narration, when employed in forming a 
 scenery suitable to the events. The simple tale of pastoral life 
 could scarcely without their aid be rendered in any degree in- 
 teresting. The precepts of an art, and the systems of philo- 
 sophers, depend upon the adventitious ornaments afforded by 
 them for almost every thing which can render them fit subjects 
 for poetry. 
 
 Thus intermixed as they are with almost all, and essential 
 to some species of poetry, it was, however, thought that they 
 could not legitimately constitute the whole, or even the prin- 
 cipal part, of a capital piece. Something of a more solid na- 
 ture was required as the ground-work of a poetical fabric ; 
 pure description was opposed to sense ; and, binding together 
 the wild flowers which grew obvious to common sight and 
 touch, was deemed a trifling and unprofitable amusement. 
 
 Such was the state of critical opinion, when Thomson pub- 
 lished, in succession, but not in their present order*, the 
 pieces which compose the Seasons ; the first capital work in 
 which natural description was professedly the principal object. 
 To paint the face of nature as changing through the changing 
 seasons ; to mark the approaches, and trace the progress of 
 these vicissitudes, in a series of landscapes all formed upon 
 images of grandeur or beauty ; and to give animation and 
 variety to the whole by interspersing manners and incidents 
 suitable to the scenery ; appears to be the general design of 
 this Poem. Essentially different from a didactic piece, its bu- 
 siness is to describe, and the occupation of its leisure to teach. 
 And as in the Georgies, whenever the poet has, for a while 
 borne away by the warmth of fancy, wandered through the 
 
 • They appeared in the following order ; "Winter, Summer, Sjaing, Autamn.- 
 
28 
 
 ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 flowery wilds of description, he suddenly checks himself, and 
 returns to the toils of the husbandman ; so Thomson, in the 
 midst of his delightful lessons of morality, and affecting re- 
 lations, recurs to a view of that state of the season which 
 introduced the digression. 
 
 It is an attention to this leading idea, that in this piece 
 there is a progressive series of descriptions, all tending to a 
 certain point, and all parts of a general plan, which alone can 
 enable us to range through the vast variety and quick succes- 
 sion of objects presented in it, with any clear conception of 
 the writer’s method, or true judgment concerning what may 
 be regarded as forwarding his main purpose, or as merely 
 ornamental deviation. The particular elucidation of this 
 point will constitute the principal part of the present Essay. 
 
 Although each of the Seasons appears to have been intended 
 as a complete piece, and contains within itself the natural 
 order of beginning, middle, and termination, yet as they were 
 at length collected and modelled by their author, they have 
 all a mutual relation to each other, and concur in forming a 
 more comprehensive whole. The annual space in which the 
 earth performs its revolution round the sun is so strongly 
 marked by nature for a perfect period, that all mankind have 
 agreed in forming their computations of time upon it. In all 
 the temperate climates of the globe, the four seasons' are so 
 many progressive stages in this circuit, which, like the acts in 
 a well-constructed drama, gradually disclose, ripen, and bring 
 to an end the various business transacted on the great theatre 
 of Nature. The striking analogy which this period with its 
 several divisions bears to the course of human existence, has 
 been remarked and pursued by writers of all ages and countries. 
 Spring has been represented as the youth of the year — the 
 
ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 29 
 
 season of pleasing hope, lively energy, and rapid increase — 
 Summer has been I’esembled to perfect manhood — the season 
 of steady warmth, confirmed strength, and unremitting vigour. 
 Autumn, which, while it bestows the rich products of full ma- 
 turity, is yet ever hastening to decline, has been aptly com- 
 pared to that period, when the man, mellowed by age, yields 
 the most valuable fruits of experience and wisdom, but daily 
 exhibits increasing symptoms of decay. The cold, cheerless, 
 and sluggish Winter has almost without a metaphor been 
 termed the decrepid and hoary old age of the year. Thus the 
 history of the year, pursued through its changing seasons, is 
 that of an individual, whose existence is marked by a progres- 
 sive course from its origin to its termination. It is thus repre- 
 sented by our poet ; this idea preserves an unity and connec- 
 tion through his whole work ; and the accurate observer will 
 remark a beautiful chain of circumstances in his description, 
 by which the birth, vigour, decline, and extinction of the vital 
 principle of the year are pictured in the most lively manner. 
 
 This order and gradation of the whole runs, as has been 
 already hinted, through each division of the poem. Every 
 season has its incipient, confirmed, and receding state, of which 
 its historian ought to give distinct views, arranged according to 
 the succession in which they appear. Each, too, like the pris- 
 matic colours, is distinguishably blended in its origin and ter- 
 mination with that which precedes, and which follows it ; and 
 it may be expected from the pencil of an artist to hit off these 
 mingled shades so as to produce a pleasing and picturesque 
 effect. Our poet has not been inattentive to these circum- 
 stances in the conduct of his plan. His Spring begins with a 
 view of the season as yet unconfirmed, and partaking of the 
 
30 
 
 ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 roughness of Winter*; and it is not till after several steps in 
 gradual progression, that it breaks forth in all its ornaments, 
 as the favourite of Love and Pleasure. His Autumn, after a 
 rich prospect of its bounties and splendors, gently fades into 
 ‘ the sere, the yellow leaf,” and with the lengthened night, the 
 clouded sun, and the rising storm, sinks into the arms of 
 Winter. It is remarkable, that in order to produce something 
 of a similar effect in his Summer, a season which, on account 
 of its uniformity of character, does not admit of any strongly- 
 marked gradations, he has comprised the whole of his descrip- 
 tion within the limits of a single day, pursuing the course of 
 the sun from its rising to its setting. *A Summer’s day is, in 
 xeality, a just model of the entire season. Its beginning is 
 moist and temperate; its middle, sultry and parching; its 
 close, soft and refreshing. By thus exhibiting all the vicis- 
 situdes of Summer under one point of view, they are rendered 
 much more striking than could have been done in a series of 
 feebly contrasted and scarcely distinguishable periods. 
 
 With this idea of the general plan of the whole work, and 
 of its several parts, we proceed to take a view of the various 
 subjects composing the descriptive series of which it principally 
 consists. 
 
 Every grand and beautiful appearance in nature, that dis- 
 tinguishes one portion of the annual circuit from another, is a 
 proper source of materials for the Poet of the Seasons. Of 
 these, some are obvious to the common observer, and require 
 only justness and elegance of taste for the selection : others 
 discover themselves only to the mind opened and enlarged 
 
 * A descriptive ynece, in which this very interval of time is represented, witJi 
 all the accuracy of a naturalist, and vivid colouring of a poet, has lately appeared 
 in a poem of Mr. Wartou’s, entitled “ The First of April." 
 
ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 SI 
 
 by science and philosophy. All the knowledsje we acquire 
 concerning natural objects by such a train of observation 
 and reasoning as merits the appellation of science, is compre- 
 hended under the two divisions of Natural Philosophy and 
 Natural History. Both of these may be employed to advantage 
 in descriptive poetry’ : for although it be true, that poetical 
 composition, being rather calculated for amusement than in- 
 struction, and addressing itself to the many who feel, rather 
 than to the few who reason, is improperly occupied about the 
 abstruse and argumentative parts of a’science ; yet, to reject 
 those grand and beautiful ideas which a philosophical view of 
 nature offers to the mind, merely because they are above the 
 comprehension of vulgar readers, is surely an unnecessary 
 degradation of this noble art. Still more narrow and unrea- 
 sonable is that critical precept, which, in conformity to the 
 received notion that fiction is the soul of poetry’, obliges the 
 poet to adopt ancient errors in preference to modern truths j 
 and this even where truth has the advantage in point of poeti- 
 cal effect. In fact, modern philosophy is as much superior to 
 the ancient in sublimity as in solidity ; and the most vivid 
 imagination cannot paint to itself scenes of grandeur equal to 
 those which cool science and demonstration offer to the en- 
 lightened mind. Objects so vast and magnificent as planets 
 rolling with even pace through their orbits, comets rushing 
 along their devious track, light springing from its unexhausted 
 source, mighty rivers formed in their subterranean beds, do 
 not require, or even admit, a heightening from the fancy. The 
 most faithful pencil here produces the noblest pictures ; and 
 Thomson, by strictly adhering to the character of the Poet of 
 Nature, has treated all these topics with a true sublimity, 
 which a writer of less knowledge and accuracy could never 
 have attained. The strict propriety with which subjects from 
 Astronomy and the other parts of Natural Philosophy are 
 
32 
 
 ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 introduced into a poem describing the changes of the Seasons, 
 need not be insisted on, since it is obvious that the primary 
 cause of all these changes is to be sought in principles derived 
 from these sciences. They are the ground-vt'ork of the whole ; 
 and establish that connected series of cause and effect, upon 
 which all those appearances in nature depend, from whence 
 the descriptive poet draws his materials. 
 
 Natural History, in its most extensive signification, includes 
 every observation relative to the distinctions, resemblances, 
 and changes of all the bodies, both animate and inanimate, 
 which nature offers to us. These observations, however, de- 
 serve to be considered as part of a science only when they refer 
 to some general truth, and form a link of that vast chain 
 which connects all created beings in one grand system. It 
 was my attempt, in an Essay lately published*, to show how 
 necessary a more accurate and scientific survey of natural 
 objects than has usually been taken, was to the avoiding the 
 common defects, and attaining the highest beauties of descrip- 
 tive poetry ; and some of t^e most striking examples of excel- 
 lence arising from this source were extracted from the poem 
 now before us. It will be unnecessary here to recapitulate the 
 substance of these remarks, or to mark out singly the several 
 passages of our author which display his talents for description 
 to the greatest advantage. Our present design rather requires 
 such a general view of the materials he has collected, and the 
 method in which he has arranged them, as may show in what 
 degree they forward and coincide with the plan of his work. 
 
 The correspondence between certain changes in the animal 
 and vegetable tribes, and those revolutions of the heavenly 
 bodies which produce the vicissitudes of the Seasons, is the 
 
 * Essay on the Application of Natural History to Poetry. 
 
foundation of an alliance between Astronomy and Natural 
 History, that equally demands attention, as a matter of 
 curious speculation and of practical utility. The astronomical 
 calendar, filled up by the Naturalist, is a combination of 
 science at the same time pregnant with important instruction 
 to the husbandman, and fertile in grand and pleasing objects 
 to the poet and philosopher. Thomson seems constantly to 
 have kept in view a combination of this kind ; and to have 
 formed from it such an idea of the economy of Nature, as 
 enabled him to preserve a regularity of method and uniformity 
 of design through all the variety of his descriptions. We 
 shall attempt to draw out a kind of historical narrative of 
 his progress through the Seasons, as far as this order is 
 observable. 
 
 Spring is characterized as the season of the renovation of 
 nature ; in which animals and vegetables, excited by the 
 kindly influence of returning warmth, shake off the torpid 
 inaction of Winter, and prepare for the continuance and in- 
 crease of their several species. The vegetable tribes, as more 
 independent and self-provided, lead the way in this progress. 
 The poet, accordingly, begins with representing the reviviscent 
 plants emerging, as soon as genial showers have softened the 
 ground, in numbers “ beyond the power of botanists to reckon 
 
 “ up their tribes.” The opening blossoms and flowers soon 
 call forth from their winter retreats those industrious insects 
 
 beams of the sun become more potent, the larger vegetables, 
 shrubs and trees, unfold their leaves ; and, as soon as a friendly 
 
34 ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 expressive of that genial spirit that pervades the Spring, which 
 Thomson has formed on the variety of circumstances attend- 
 ing the Passion of the Groves, cannot escape the notice and 
 admiration of the most negligent eye. Affected by the same 
 soft influence, and equally indebted to the renewed vegetable 
 tribes for food and shelter, the several kinds of quadrupeds are 
 represented as concurring in the celebration of this charming 
 Season with conjugal and parental rites. Even Man himself, 
 though from his social condition less under the dominion of 
 physical necessities, is properly described as partaking of the 
 general ardour. Such is the order and connexion of this 
 whole book, that it might well pass for a commentary upon a 
 most beautiful passage in the philosophical poet Lucretius; 
 who certainly wanted nothing but a better system and more 
 circumscribed subject, to have appeared as one of the greatest 
 masters of description in either ancient or modern poetry. 
 Reasoning on the unperishable nature, and perpetual circula- 
 tion, of the particles of matter, he deduces all the delightful 
 appearances of Spring from the seeds of fertility which descend 
 
 
 in the vernal showers. ' 
 
 pereimt imbres, ubi eos pater iEther 
 
 In gremium matris Terrai precipitavit. 
 
 At nit idee surgunt fruges, ramique virescunt 
 Arboribiis ; crescunt ipsae, fetuque gravantur : 
 
 Hinc alitur porro nostrum genus, atque ferarum : 
 nine lastas urbeis pueris florere videmus, 
 Frondiferasque novis avibus canere undique sylvas : 
 Ilinc fessae pecudes pingues per pabula laeta 
 Corpora deponunt, et candens lacteus humor 
 Uberibiis man at distends; hinc nova proles 
 Artubus infirmis teneras laseiva per herbas 
 Ludit lacte mere menteis percussa novellas. 
 
 Lib. I. S51, &c. 
 
 The rains are lost when Jove descends in showers 
 Soft on the bosom of the parent earth : 
 
 But springs the shining grain ; their verdant robe 
 The trees resume ; they grow, and pregnant bend 
 
ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 S5 
 
 Beneath their fertile load : hence kindly food 
 The living tribes receive : tlie cheerful town 
 Beholds its joyous bands of flowering youth ; 
 
 "With new-boni songs the leafy groves resound ; 
 
 The full-fed flocks amid the laughing meads 
 Their weary bodies lay, while wide-distent 
 The i)lenteous udder teems witli milky juice; 
 
 And o’er the grass, as their young hearts beat high, 
 Swell’d by the pure and generous streams they drain, 
 Frolic the wanton lambs with joints infirm. 
 
 The period of Summer is marked by fewer and less striking 
 changes in the face of Nature. A soft and pleasing languor, 
 interrupted only by the gradual progression of the vegetable 
 and animal tribes towards their state of maturity, forms the 
 leading character of this Season. The active fermentation of 
 the juices, which the first access of genial warmth had excited, 
 now subsides ; and the increasing heats rather inspire faintness 
 and inaction than lively exertions. The insect race alone seem 
 animated with peculiar vigour under the more direct influence 
 of the sun ; and are therefore with equal truth and advantage 
 introduced by the poet to enliven the silent and drooping 
 scenes presented by the other forms of animal nature. As 
 this source, how’ever, together with whatever else our summers 
 afford, is insufficient to furnish novelty and business enough 
 for this act of the drama of the year, the poet judiciously opens 
 a new field, profusely fertile in objects suited to the glowing 
 colours of descriptive poetry. By an easy and natural tran- 
 sition, he quits the chastised summer of our temperate clime 
 for those regions where a perpetual Summer reigns, exalted by 
 such superior degrees of solar heat as give an entirely new 
 face to almost every part of nature. The terrific grandeur 
 prevalent in some of these, the exquisite richness and beauty 
 in others, and the novelty in all, afford such a happy variety 
 for the poet’s selection, that we need not wonder if some 
 of his noblest pieces are the product of this delightful ex- 
 
36 ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 cursion. He returns, however, with apparent satisfaction, 
 to take a last survey of the softer summer of our island ; and, 
 after closing the prospect of terrestrial beauties, artfully shifts 
 the scene to celestial splendors, which, though perhaps not 
 more striking in this season than in some of the others, are 
 now alone agreeable objects of contemplation in a northern 
 climate. 
 
 Autumn is too eventful a period in the history of the year, 
 within the temperate parts of the globe, to require foreign aid 
 for rendering it more varied and interesting. The promise of 
 the Spring is now fulfilled. The silent and gradual process of 
 maturation is completed ; and Human, Industry beholds with 
 triumph the rich products of its toil. The vegetable tribes 
 disclose their infinitely various forms of fruit ; which term, 
 while, with respect to common use, it is confined to a few pe- 
 culiar modes of fructification, in the more comprehensive 
 language of the Naturalist includes every product of vegetation 
 by which the rudiments of a future progeny are developed, 
 and separated from the parent plant. These are in part col- 
 lected and stored up by those animals for whose sustenance 
 during the ensuing sleep of nature they are provided. The 
 rest, furnished with various contrivances for dissemination, are 
 scattered by the friendly winds which now begin to blow, over 
 the surface of that earth w hich they are to clothe and decorate. 
 The young of the animal race, which Spring and Summer had 
 brought forth and cherished, having now acquired sufficient 
 vigour, quit their concealments, and offer themselves to the 
 pursuit of the carnivorous among their fellow-animals, and of 
 the great destroyer man. Thus the scenery is enlivened with 
 the various sports of the hunter ; which, however repugnant 
 they may appear to that system of general benevolence and 
 sympathy which philosophy would inculcate, have ever afforded 
 
ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 37 
 
 a most agreeable exertion to the human powers, and have 
 much to plead in their favour as a necessary part of the great 
 plan of Nature. Indeed, she marks her intention with suf- 
 ficient precision, by refusing to grant any longer those friendly 
 shades which had grown for the protection of the infant off- 
 spring. The grove loses its honours ; but before they are 
 entirely tarnished, an adventitious beauty, arising from that 
 gradual decay which loosens the withering leaf, gilds the 
 autumnal landscape with a temporary splendor, superior to 
 the verdure of Spring, or the luxuriance of Summer. The 
 infinitely various and ever-changing hues of the leaves at this 
 season, melting into every soft gradation of tint and shade, 
 have long engaged the imitation of the painter, and are equally 
 happy ornaments in the description of the poet. 
 
 These unvarying symptoms of approaching Winter now warn 
 several of the winged tribes to prepare for their aerial voyage 
 to those happy climates of perpetual summer, where no de- 
 ficiency of food or shelter can ever distress them ; and about 
 the same time other fowls of hardier constitution, which are 
 contented with escaping the iron winters of the arctic regions, 
 arrive to supply the vacancy. Thus the striking scenes 
 afforded by that wonderful part of the economy of nature, the 
 migration of birds, present themselves at this season to the 
 poet. The thickening fogs, the heavy rains, the swoln rivers, 
 while they deform this sinking period of the year, add new 
 subjects to the pleasing variety which reigns throughout its 
 whole course, and which justifies the poet’s character of it, as 
 the season when the Muse “ best exerts her voice.” 
 
 Winter, directly opposite as it is in other respects to Summer, 
 yet resembles it in this, that it is a Season in which Nature is 
 employed rather in secretly preparing for the mighty changes 
 

 
 V 
 
 ' I 
 
 
 S8 
 
 ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 which it successively brings to light, than in the actual ex- 
 hibition of them. It is therefore a period equally barren of 
 events ; and has still less of animation than Summer, inasmuch 
 as lethargic insensibility is a state more distant from vital 
 energy than the languor of indolent repose. From the fall of 
 the leaf, and withering of the herb, an unvarying death-like 
 torpor oppresses almost the whole vegetable creation, and a 
 considerable part of the animal, during this entire portion of 
 the year. The whole insect race, which filled every part of 
 the Summer landscape with life and motion, are now either 
 buried in profound sleep, or actually no longer exist, except in 
 the unformed rudiments of a future progeny. Many of the 
 birds and quadrupeds are retired to concealments, from which 
 not even the calls of hunger can force them ; and the rest, 
 intent only on the preservation of a joyless being, have ceased 
 to exert those powers of pleasing, which, at other seasons, so 
 much contribute to their mutual happiness, as well as to the 
 amusement of their human sovereign. Their social connexions, 
 however, are improved by their wants. In order the better to 
 procure their scanty subsistence, and resist the inclemencies 
 of the sky, they are taught by instinct to assemble in flocks ; 
 and this provision has the secondary effect of gratifying the 
 spectator with something of novelty and action even in the 
 dreariness of a wintry prospect. 
 
 But it is in the extraordinary changes and agitations which 
 the elements and the surrounding atmosphere undergo during 
 this season, that the poet of nature must principally look for 
 relief from the gloomy uniformity reigning through other 
 parts of the creation. Here scenes are presented to bis view, 
 which, were they less frequent, must strike with wonder and 
 admiration the most incurious spectator. The effects of cold 
 are more sudden, and in many instances more extraordinary 
 
ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 39 
 
 and unexpected, than those of heat. He who has beheld the 
 vegetable productions of even a northern Summer, will not be 
 greatly amazed at the richer, and more luxuriant, but still 
 resembling, growths of the tropics. But one, who has always 
 been accustomed to view water in a liquid and colourless state, 
 cannot form the least conception of the same element as 
 hardened into an extensive plain of solid crystal, or covering 
 the ground with a robe of the purest white. The highest pos- 
 sible degree of astonishment must therefore attend the first 
 view of these phenomena ; and as in our temperate climate 
 but a small portion of the year affords these spectacles, we find 
 that, even here, they have novelty enough to excite emotions 
 of agreeable surprise. But it is not to novelty alone that they 
 owe their charms. Their intrinsic beauty is, perhaps, in- 
 dividually superior to that of the gayest objects presented by 
 the other seasons. Where is the elegance and brilliancy that 
 can compare with that which decorates every tree or bush on 
 the clear morning succeeding a night of hoar frost ? or what 
 is the lustre that would not appear dull and tarnished in com- 
 petition with a field of snow just glazed over with frost? By 
 the vivid description of such objects as these, contrasted with 
 the savage sublimity of storms and tempests, our poet has been 
 able to produce a set of winter landscapes, as engaging to the 
 fancy as the apparently happier scenes of genial warmth and 
 verdure. 
 
 But he has not trusted entirely to these resources for com- 
 bating the natural sterility of Winter. Repeating the pleasing 
 artifice of his Summer, he has called in foreign aid, and has 
 heightened the scenery with grandeur and horror not our own. 
 The famished troops of wolves pouring from the Alps ; the 
 mountains of snow rolling down the precipices of the same 
 regions ; the dreary plains over which the Laplander urges 
 
 / 
 

 40 ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 his rein-deer ; the wonders of the icy sea, the volcanoes 
 flaming through a waste of snow;” are objects judiciously 
 selected from all that Nature presents most singular and 
 striking in the various domains of boreal cold and wintiy 
 desolation. 
 
 
 • i 
 
 t 
 
 iii 
 
 Thus have we attempted to give a general view of those 
 materials which constitute the ground-work of a poem on the 
 Seasons ; which are essential to its very nature ; and on the 
 proper arrangement of which its regularity and connexion de- 
 pend. The extent of knowledge, as well as the powers of de- 
 scription, which Thomson has exhibited in this part of his 
 work, is, on the whole, truly admirable ; and though, with 
 the present advanced taste for accurate observation in Natural 
 History, some improvements might be suggested, yet he cer- 
 tainly remains unrivalled in the list of descriptive poets. 
 
 But the rural landscape is not solely made up of land, and 
 water, and trees, and birds, and beasts ; man is a distinguished 
 figure in it ; his multiplied occupations and concerns introduce 
 themselves into every part of it ; he intermixes even in the 
 wildest and rudest scenes, and throws a life and interest upon 
 every surrounding object. Manners and character therefore 
 constitute a part even of a descriptive poem ; and in a plan so 
 extensive as the history of the year, they must enter under 
 various forms and upon numerous occasions. 
 
 The most obvious and appropriated use of human figures in 
 pictures of the Seasons, is the introduction of them to assist 
 in marking out the succession of annual changes by their 
 various labours and amusements. In common with other 
 animals, man is directed in the diversified employment of 
 earning a toilsome subsistence by an attention to the vicissi- 
 
 
ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 41 
 
 tudes of the seasons ; and all his diversions in the simple state 
 of rustic society are also regulated by the same circumstance. 
 Thus a series of moving figures enlivens the landscape, and 
 contributes to stamp on each scene its peculiar character. 
 The shepherd, the husbandman, the hunter, appear in their 
 turns ; and may be considered as natural concomitants of 
 that portion of the yearly round which prompts their several 
 occupations. 
 
 But it is not only the bodily pursuits of man which are 
 affected by these changes ; the sensations and affections of his 
 mind are almost equally under their influence : and the result 
 of the whole, as forming the enamoured votary of Nature to a 
 peculiar cast of character and manners, is not less conspicuous. 
 Thus the poet of the Seasons is at libex’ty, without deviating 
 from his plan, to descant on the varieties of moral constitution, 
 and the powers which external causes are found to possess over 
 the temper of the soul. He may draw pictures of the pastoral 
 life in all its genuine simplicity ; and, assuming the tone of a 
 moral instructor, may contrast the peace and felicity of in- 
 nocent retirement with the turbulent agitations of ambition 
 and avarice. 
 
 The various incidents too, upon which the simple tale of 
 rural events is founded, are very much modelled by the differ- 
 ence of seasons. The catastrophes of Winter differ from those 
 of Summer ; the sports of Spring from those of Autumn. Thus, 
 little history pieces and adventures, whether pathetic or 
 amusing, will suggest themselves to the Poet ; which, when 
 properly adapted to the scenery and circumstances, may very 
 happily coincide with the main design of the composition. 
 
 Tlie bare enumeration of these several occasions of intro- 
 

 42 ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 ducing draughts of human life and manners, will'be sufficient 
 to call to mind the admirable use which Thomson throughout 
 his whole poem has made of them. He, in fact, never appears 
 more truly inspired with his subject, than when giving birth 
 to those sentiments of tenderness and beneficence, which seem 
 to have occupied his whole heart. An universal benevolence, 
 extending to every part of the animal creation, manifests itself 
 in almost every scene he draws ; and the rural character, as 
 delineated in his feelings, contains all the softness, purity, and 
 simplicity that are feigned of the golden age. Yet excellent 
 as the moral and sentimental part of his work must appear 
 to every congenial mind, it is, perhaps, that in which he may 
 the most easily be rivalled. A refined and feeling heart may 
 derive from its own proper sources a store of corresponding 
 sentiment, which will naturally clothe itself in the form of 
 expression best suited to the occasion. Nor does the inven- 
 tion of those simple incidents which are most adapted to excite 
 the sjTTjpathetic emotions, require any great stretch of fancy. 
 The nearer they approach to common life, the more certainly 
 will they produce their effect. Wonder and surprise are 
 affections of so different a kind, and so distract the attention, 
 that they never fail to diminish the force of the pathetic. On 
 these accounts, writers much inferior in respect to the powers 
 of description and imagery, have equalled our poet in elegant 
 and benevolent sentiment, and perhaps excelled him in in- 
 teresting narration. Of these, it will be sufficient to mention 
 the ingenious author of a French poem on the Seasons ; who, 
 though a mere copyist in the descriptive parts, has made many 
 pleasing additions to the manners and incidents proper for 
 such a composition. 
 
 But there is a strain of sentiment of a higher and more 
 digressive nature, with which Thomson has occupied a con- 
 
ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS.^ 
 
 43 
 
 siderable portion of his poem. The fundamental principles of 
 moral philosophy, ideas concerning the oiigin and progress of 
 government and civilization, historical sketches, and reviews 
 of the characters most famous in ancient and modern history, 
 are interspersed through the various parts of the” Seasons. 
 The manly, liberal, and enlightened spirit which this writer 
 breathes in all his works, must ever endear him to the friends 
 of truth and virtue ; and, in particular, his genuine patriotism 
 and zeal in the cause of liberty will render his writings always 
 estimable to the British reader. But, just and important as 
 his thoughts on these topics may be, there may remain a 
 doubt in the breast of the critic, whether their introduction 
 in a piece like this do not, in some instances, break in upon 
 that unity of character which every work of art should sup- 
 port. We have seen, from the general plan and tenor of the 
 poem, that it is professedly of the rural cast. The objects it 
 is chiefly conversant with are those presented by the hand of 
 Nature, not the products of human art ; and when man 
 himself is introduced as a part of the groupe, it would seem 
 that, in conformity to the rest, he ought to be represented in 
 such a state only, as the simplest forms of society, and most 
 unconstrained situations in it, exhibit. Courts and cities, 
 camps and senates, do net well accord with sylvan scenery. 
 From the principle of congruity, therefore, a critic might be 
 induced to reject some of these digressive ornaments, though 
 intrinsically beautiful, and doubtless contributing to the ele- 
 vation and variety of the piece. His judgment in this respect 
 would be a good deal influenced by the manner of their intro- 
 duction. In some instances this is so easy and natural, that 
 the mind is scarcely sensible of the deviation; in others it is 
 more abrupt and unartful. As examples of both, we may re- 
 fer to the passages in which various characters from English, 
 and from Grecian and Roman history, are displayed. The 
 
4-i ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 former, by a happy gradation, is introduced at the close of a 
 delightful piece, containing the praises of Britain ; which is it- 
 self a kind of digression, though a very apt and seasonable one. 
 The latter has no other connexion with the part at which it 
 is inserted, than the very forced and distant one, that as read- 
 ing may be reckoned among the amusements appropriated to 
 Winter, such subjects as these will naturally offer themselves 
 to the studious mind. 
 
 There is another source of sentiment to the Poet of the 
 Seasons, which, while it is superior to the last in real eleva- 
 tion, is also strictly connected with the nature of his work. 
 The genuine philosopher, while he surveys the grand and 
 beautiful objects every where surrounding him, will be prompt- 
 ed to lift his eye to the great cause of all these wonders; — the 
 planner and architect of this mighty fabric, every minute part 
 of which so much awakens his curiosity and admiration. The 
 laws by which this Being acts, the ends which he seems to 
 have pursued, must excite his humble researches ; and in pro- 
 portion as he discovers infinite power in the means, directed 
 by infinite goodness in tbe intention, his soul must be wrapt 
 in astonishment, and expanded with gratitude. The econo- 
 my of nature will, to such an observer, be the perfect scheme 
 of an all-wise and beneficent mind; and every part of the 
 wide creation will appear to proclaim the praise of its great 
 Author. Thus a new connexion will manifest itself between 
 the several parts of the universe ; and a new order and 
 design will be traced through the progress of its various 
 revolutions. 
 
 Thomson’s Seasons is as eminently a religious, as it is a 
 descriptive poem. Thoroughly impressed with sentiments of 
 veneration for the Author of that assemblage of order and beauty 
 
ESSAY ON THOMSON’S SEASONS. 
 
 45 
 
 which it was his province to paint, he takes every proper occasion 
 to excite similar emotions in the breasts of his readers. Entirely 
 free from the gloom of superstition and the narrowness of 
 bigotry, he every where represents the Deity as the kind and 
 beneficent parent of all his works, always watchful over their 
 best interests, and from seeming evil still educing the greatest 
 possible good to all his creatures. In every appearance of 
 nature he beholds the operation of a divine hand ; and regards, 
 according to his own emphatical phrase, each change through- 
 out the revolving year as but the “ varied God.” This spirit, 
 which breaks forth at intervals in each division of his poem, 
 shines full and concentred in that noble hymn which crowns 
 the work. This piece, the sublimest production of its kind 
 since the days of Milton, should be considered as the winding 
 up of all the variety of matter and design contained in the pre- 
 ceding parts ; and thus is not only admirable as a separate 
 composition, but is contrived with masterly skill to strengthen 
 the unity and connexion of the great whole. 
 
 Thus is planned and constructed a Poem, which, founded 
 as it is upon the unfading beauties of Nature, will live as long 
 as the language in which it is written shall be read. If the 
 perusal of it be in any respect rendered more interesting or 
 instructive by this imperfect Essay, the purpose of the writer 
 will be ftUly answered. 
 

SPRING 
 

 THE ARGUMENT 
 
 The subject proposed. — Inscribed to the Countess of Hertford. 
 
 The Season is described as it affects the various parts of 
 Nature, ascending from the lower to the higher; with 
 digiessions arising from the subject. — Its influence on inani- 
 mate matter, on vegetables, on brute animals, and, last, on 
 Alan : concluding with a dissuasive from the wild and irre- 
 gular passion of love, opposed to that of a pure and happy 
 kind. 
 
SPRING. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 The Subject propoted.— Inscribed to the Countess of Hertford. 
 
 Come, gentle Spring I ethereal Mildness ! come; 
 And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud. 
 
 While music wakes around, veil’d in a shower 
 Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend. 
 
 O Hertford ! fitted or to shine in couils 5 
 
 With unaffected grace, or walk the plain 
 With innocence and meditation join’d 
 In soft assemblage, listen to my song. 
 
 Which thy own Season paints ; when Nature all 
 Is blooming and benevolent, like thee. 10 
 
 And see where surly Winter passes off. 
 
 Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts ; 
 
 His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill, 
 
 D 
 
 r 
 

 50 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 The Season described as it affects the rarious parts of Nature. 
 
 15 
 
 20 
 
 The shatter’d forest, and the ravag’d vale 5 
 While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch. 
 Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost, 
 
 ITie mountains lift their green heads to the sky. 
 
 As yet the trembling year is unconfirm’d. 
 
 And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze j 
 Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets 
 Deform the day delightless 3 so that scarce 
 The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulpht 
 To shake the sounding marsh ; or from the shore 
 The plovers when to scatter o’er the heath. 
 
 And sing their wild notes to the listening waste. 
 
 At last from Aries rolls the bounteous sun. 
 
 And the bright Bull receives him. . Then no more 
 Th’ expansive atmosphere is cramp’d with cold 5 
 But, full of life and vivifying soul. 
 
 Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads them thin. 
 Fleecy and white, o’er aU-surrounding heaven. 31 
 
 Forth fly the tepid airs j and unconfin’d. 
 
 Unbinding earth, the moving softness strays. 
 
 Joyous, th’ impatient husbandman perceives 
 Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers 
 
 25 
 
 35 
 
 Drives from tlieir stalls, to where the wellrus’d plough 
 
SPRING. 
 
 51 
 
 The Season described as it affects the various parts o£ Nature. 
 
 Lies in the furrow, loosened from the frost j 
 There, unrefusing, to the harness’d yoke 
 They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil. 
 
 Cheer’d by the simple song and soaring lark. 40 
 
 Meanwhile incumbent o’er the shining share 
 The master leans, removes th’ obstructing clay. 
 
 Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the glebe. 
 
 White thro’ the neighb’ring fields the sower stalks. 
 With measur’d step j and liberal throws the grain 45 
 Into the faithful bosom of the ground : 
 
 The harrow follows harsh, and shuts the scene. 
 
 Be gracious. Heaven ! for now laborious Man 
 Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes ! blow j 
 Ye softening dews ! ye tender showers ! descend ; 50 
 
 And temper all, thou world-reviving sun ! 
 
 Into the perfect year. Nor 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 55 
 
 To wide-imperial Rome, in the full height 
 Of elegance and taste, by Greece refin’d. 
 
 In ancient times, the sacred plough employ’d 
 The kings, and awful fathers of mankind : 
 
llte Seaton described ae it affects the various parts of Nature. 
 
 And some, with whom compar’d your insect tribes 60 
 Are but the beings of a summer’s day. 
 
 Have held the scale of empire, rul’d the storm 
 
 Of mighty war 3 then, with unwearied hand. 
 
 Disdaining little delicacies, seiz’d 
 
 The plough, and greatly independent liv’d. 65 
 
 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, 70 
 
 Your empire owns 3 and from a thousand shores 
 Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports 3 
 So with superior boon may your rich soil. 
 
 Exuberant, Nature’s better blessings pour 
 
 O’er every land 3 the naked nations clothe 3 75 
 
 And be th’ exhaustless gi'anary of a world. 
 
 Nor only through the lenient air this change, 
 Delicious, breathes 3 the penetrative sun. 
 
 His force deep-darting to the dark retreat 
 Of vegetation, sets the steaming Power 80 
 
 At large, to wander o’er the vernant earth. 
 
 In various hues 3 but chiefly thee, gay Green ! 
 
SPRING. 
 
 5S 
 
 The Season described as it affects the yarious parts of Nature. 
 
 ^ » f- ^ .f ,f j- j- ~ T j- J- ~ ^ j- rf-rTf--r-r~rJ^-rT~~ ~ j • _ - - 
 
 Thou smiling Nature’s universal robe ! 
 
 United light and shade ! where the sight dwells 
 With growing strength, and ever new delight. 85 
 From the moist meadow to the wither’d hill, 
 
 I^d by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs j 
 And swells, and deepens, to the cherish’d eye. 
 
 The hawthorn whitens j and the juicy groves 
 
 Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, 90 
 
 Till the whole leafy forest stands display’d. 
 
 In full luxuriance, to the sighing gales 3 
 Where the deer rustle through the twining brake. 
 
 And the birds sing conceal’d. At once, array’d 
 In all the colours of the flushing year, 95 
 
 By Nature’s swift and secret-working hand. 
 
 The garden glows, and fills the liberal air 
 With lavish fragrance j while the promis’d fruit 
 Lies yet a little embryo, unperceiv’d. 
 
 Within its crimson folds. Now from the town 100 
 Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps. 
 
 Oft let me wander o’er the dewy fields. 
 
 Where freshness breathes j and dash the trembling drops 
 From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze-' 
 
 Of sweet-briar hedges I pursue my walk j 105 
 
The Seasoa described as it affects the various parts of Nature* 
 
 Or taste the smell of dairy j or ascend 
 Some eminence, Augusta, in thy plains; 
 
 And see the country, far diffus’d around. 
 
 One boundless blush; one white-empurpled shower* 
 Of mingled blossoms; where the raptur’d eye 110 
 Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath 
 The fair profusion, yellow Autumn spies : 
 
 If, brush’d from Russian wilds, a cutting gale 
 Rise not, and scatter from his humid wings 
 The clammy mildew; or, dry-blowing, breathe 115 
 Untimely frost; before whose baleful blast 
 The full-blown Spring through all her foliage shrinks. 
 Joyless and dead, a wide-dejected waste. 
 
 For oft, engender’d by the hazy North, 
 
 Myriads on myriads, insect armies warp 120 
 
 Keen in the poison’d breeze ; and wasteful eat. 
 Through buds and bark, into the blacken’d core. 
 Their eager way. A feeble race! yet oft 
 The sacred sons of vengeance ; on whose course 
 Corrosive famine waits, and kills the year. 125 
 
 To check this plague, the skilful farmer, chaff 
 And blazing straw, before his orchard burns ; 
 
 Till, all involv’d in smoke, the latent foe 
 
SPRING. 
 
 55 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 p- 
 
 The Season described as it aifects the various psrts of Nature » 
 
 From every cranny suffocated falls : | 
 
 Or scatters o’er the blooms the pungent dust 130 ji 
 
 Of pepper, fatal to the frosty tribe : 
 
 Or, when th’ envenom’d leaf begins to curl. 
 
 With sprinkled water drowns them in their nest 5 
 Nor, while they pick them up with busy bill. 
 
 The little trooping birds unwisely scares. 135 
 
 Be patient, swains j these cruel-seeming winds 
 Blow not in vain. Far hence they keep repress’d 
 Those deepening clouds on clouds, surcharg’d with rain, 
 
 Tliat o’er the vast Atlantic hither borne. 
 
 In endless train would quench the summer-blaze, 140 
 And, cheerless, drown the crude unripened year. 
 
 The North-east spends his rage ; he now shut up 
 Within his iron cave, th’ effusive South 
 Warms the wide air j and o’er the void of heaven 
 Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers distent. 145 
 At first a dusky wreath they seem to rise. 
 
 Scarce staining ether j but by swift degrees, 'v. 
 
 In heaps on heaps, the doubling vapour sails. 
 
 Along the loaded sky, and mingling deep. 
 
 Sits on th’ horizon round a settled gloom ; 150 
 
 Not such as wintry storms on mortals shed. 
 

 \ 
 
 56 SPRING. 
 
 ]• 
 
 And full of every hope and every joy, 
 
 Tlie wdsh of Nature. Gradual sinks the breeze 
 Into a perfect calm} that not a breath 155 
 
 Is heard to quiver through the closing woods. 
 
 Or rustling turn the many-twinkling leaves 
 Of aspin tall. Th’ uncurling floods, diffus’d 
 In glassy breadth, seem through delusive lapse 
 Forgetful of their course. ’Tis silence all, 160 
 
 And pleasing expectation. Herds and flocks 
 Drop the dry sprig, and mute-imploring eye 
 The falling verdure. Hush’d in short suspense. 
 
 The plumy people streak their wings with oil. 
 
 To throw the lucid moisture trickling off } . 165 
 
 And wait th’ approaching sign to strike, at once. 
 
 Into the general choir. Ev’n mountains, vales. 
 
 And forests seem, impatient, to demand 
 The promis’d sweetness. Man superior walks 
 Amid the glad creation, musing praise, 170 
 
 And looking lively gi-atitude. At last. 
 
 The clouds consign their treasures to the fields } 
 
 And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool 
 
 The Season described as it affects the various parts of Nature. 
 
 ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ J 
 
 Oppressing life } but lovely, gentle, kind. 
 
 
SPRING. 
 
 57 
 
 The Season described as it affects the various parts of Nature. 
 
 Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow. 
 
 In large effusion, o’er the freshened world. 175 
 
 The stealing shower is scarce to patter heard. 
 
 By such as wander through the forest walks. 
 
 Beneath th’ umbrageous multitude of leaves. 
 
 But who can hold the shade, while Heaven descends 
 
 In universal bounty, shedding herbs, ISO 
 
 And fruits, and flowers, on Nature’s ample lap ? 
 
 Swift fancy fir’d anticipates their growth j 
 
 And, while the milky nutriment distils. 
 
 Beholds the kindling country colour round. 
 
 Thus all day long the full-distended clouds 185 
 
 Indulge their genial stores, and well-shower’d earth 
 
 Is deep enrich’d with vegetable life j 
 
 Till, in the western sky, the downward sun 
 
 Looks out, effulgent, from amid the flush 
 
 Of broken clouds, gay-shifting to his beam. 190 
 
 / 
 
 The rapid radiance instantaneous strikes 
 Th’ illumin’d mountain, through the forest streams. 
 Shakes on the floods, and in a yellow mist. 
 
 Far smoking o’er th’ interminable plain. 
 
 In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems. 
 
 195 
 
The Season described as it afTects tbe Tarious parts of Nature. 
 
 Moistj bright, and green, the landscape laughs around j 
 Full swell the woods 3 their every music wakes. 
 
 Mix’d in wild concert with the warbling brooks 
 Increas’d, the distant bleatings of the hills. 
 
 And hollow lows responsive from the vales, 200 
 
 Whence blending all the sweetened zephyr springs. 
 Meantime refracted from yon eastern cloud. 
 
 Bestriding earth, the grand ethereal bow 
 Shoots up immense j and every hue unfolds. 
 
 In fair proportion, running from the red, 205 
 
 To where the violet fades into the sky. 
 
 Here, awful Newton ! the dissolving clouds 
 Form, fronting on the sun, thy showery prism 3 
 And to the sage-instructed eye unfold 
 The various twine of light, by thee disclos’d 210 
 From the white mingling maze. Not so the boy 3 
 He wondering views the bright enchantment bend. 
 Delightful, o’er the radiant fields, and runs 
 To catch the falling glory 3 but amaz’d 
 Beholds th’ amusive arch before him fly, 215 
 
 Then vanish quite away. Still night succeeds 3 
 A softened shade, and saturated earth 
 Awaits the morning-beam 3 to give to light. 
 
SPRING. 
 
 59 
 
 The Seaton described as it affects the various parts of Nature. 
 
 Rais’d through ten thousand ditFerent plastic tubes. 
 The balmy treasures of the former day. 220 
 
 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 3 or through the forest, rank 225 
 With what the dull incurious weeds account. 
 
 Bursts his blind way j or climbs the mountain-rock. 
 Fir’d by the nodding verdure of its brow. 
 
 With such a liberal hand has Nature fluna* 
 
 Their seeds abroad, blown them about in winds, 230 
 Innumerous mix’d them with the nursing mould. 
 
 The moistening current, and prolific rain. 
 
 But who their virtues can declare ? who pierce. 
 With vision pure, into these secret stores 
 Of health, and life, and joy ? the food of Man, 235 
 While yet he liv’d in innocence, and told 
 A length of golden years 3 unflesh’d in blood, 
 
 A stranger to the savage arts of life. 
 
 Death, rapine, carnage, surfeit, and disease 3 
 The lord, and not the tyrant, of the world. 240 
 
 The first fresh dawn then wak’d the gladdened race 
 

 
 60 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 
 Tlie Season described as it affects the various parts of Nature. 
 
 
 Of uncorrupted Man, nor blush’d to see 
 
 The sluggard sleep beneath its sacred beam j 
 
 For their light slumbers gently fum’d away j 
 
 And up they rose as vigorous as the sun, 245 
 
 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, succesive, stole 
 
 Their hours away. While in the rosy vale 250 
 
 Love breath’d his infant sighs, from anguish free. 
 
 And full replete with bliss j 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 j 255 
 
 / 
 
 For reason and benevolence were law. 
 
 Harmonious Nature too look’d smiling on; 
 
 Clear shone the skies, cool’d with eternal gales, 
 
 And balmy spirit all. The youthful sun 
 
 Shot his best rays, and still the gracious clouds 260 
 
 Drop’d fatness downj as o’er the swelling mead. 
 
 The herds and flocks, commixing, play’d secure. 
 
 This when, emergent from the gloomy wood. 
 
 The glaring lion saw, his horrid heart 
 
SPRING 
 
 6l 
 
 S-rx-r^ X ^ -t X X XX x-xx j-x-x x x xx x x r x x x rx x x x xx x x x x x xx xxxx xxxxxxx 
 
 The Season described as it affects the various parts of Nature. 
 
 X~XXXXX X X X XX XXXX-X XXX-XX xxxx X X XXX X-~ XXXX XXX X X XX XX xxxx XX X XX X X XX XX XX 
 
 Was meekened, and he join’d his sullen joy j ^65 
 For music held the whole in perfect peace 5 
 Soft sigh’d the flute j the tender voice was heard. 
 Warbling the varied heart j the woodlands round 
 Apply’d their quire 5 and winds and waters flow’d 
 In consonance. Such were those prime of days. 270 
 But now those white unblemished manners, whence 
 The fabling poets took their golden age. 
 
 Are found no more amid these iron times. 
 
 These dregs of life ! Now the distemper’d mind 
 Has lost that concord of harmonious powers, 275 
 Which forms the soul of happiness j and all 
 Is off the poise within : the passions all 
 Have burst their bounds j and reason half extinct. 
 
 Or impotent, or else approving, sees 
 
 The foul disorder. Senseless, and deform’d, 280 
 
 Convulsive anger storms at large j or pale. 
 
 And silent, settles into fell revenge. 
 
 Base envy withers at another’s joy. 
 
 And hates that excellence it cannot reach. 
 
 Desponding fear, of feeble fancies full, 285 
 
 Weak and unmanly, loosens every power. 
 
 Ev’n love itself is bitterness of soul. 
 
62 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 The Season described as it affects the various parts of Nature. 
 
 A pensive anguish pining at the heart 5 
 
 Or, sunk to sordid interest, feels no more 
 
 That noble wish, that never-cloy’d desire, 290 
 
 Which, selfish joy disdaining, seeks alone 
 
 To bless the dearer object of its flame. 
 
 Hope sickens with extravagance 3 and grief. 
 
 Of life impatient, into madness swells. 
 
 Or in dead silence wastes the weeping hours. 295 
 These, and a thousand mixt emotions more. 
 
 From ever-changing views of good and ill. 
 
 Form’d infinitely various, vex the mind 
 With endless storm : whence, deeply rankling, grows 
 The partial thought, a listless unconcern, 300 
 
 Cold, and averting from our neighbour’s good 5 
 Then dark disgust, and hatred, winding wiles. 
 
 Coward deceit, and ruffian violence : 
 
 At last, extinct each social feeling, fell. 
 
 And joyless inhumanity pervades 305 
 
 And petrifies the heart. Nature disturb’d 
 Is deem’d, vindictive, to have chang’d her course. 
 
 Hence, in old dusky time, a deluge came j 
 When the deep-cleft disparting orb, that arch’d 
 The central waters round, impetuous rush’d, 310 
 
SPRING 
 
 63 
 
 The Sea^oa described as it affects the various parts of Nature. 
 
 With universal burst, into the gulph j 
 And o’er the high-pil’d hills of fractur’d earth 
 Wide dash’d the waves, in undulation vast ; 
 
 Till, from the centre to the streaming clouds, 
 
 A shoreless ocean tumbled round the globe. ^ 315 
 
 The Seasons since have, with severer sway. 
 Oppress’d a broken world : the Winter keen 
 Shook forth his waste of snows ; and Summer shot 
 His pestilential heats. Great Spring, before 
 Green’d all the year and fruits and blossoms blush’d. 
 In social sweetness, on the self-sam.e bough. 
 
 Pure was the temperate air 3 an even calm 
 Perpetual reign’d, save what the zephyrs bland 
 Breath’d o’er the blue expanse 3 for then nor storms 
 Were taught to blow, nor hurricanes to rage 3 325 
 
 Sound slept the waters 3 no sulphureous glooms 
 Swell’d in the sky, and sent the lightning forth 3 
 While sickly damps, and cold autumnal fogs. 
 
 Hung not, relaxing, on the springs of life. 
 
 But now, of turbid elements the sport. 
 
 From clear to cloudy tost, from hot to cold. 
 
 And di*y to moist, with inward-eating cliange. 
 
 330 
 

 64 SPRING. 
 
 The Seaion deecribed as it affects the various parts of Nature, 
 
 Our drooping days are dwindled down to nought. 
 Their period finish’d ere ’t is well begun. 
 
 And yet the wholesome herb neglected dies j 335 
 Though with the pure exhilarating soul 
 Of nutriment and health, and vital powers. 
 
 Beyond the search of art, ’t is copious blest. 
 
 For, with hot ravine fir’d, ensanguin’d Man 
 Is now become the lion of the plain, 340 
 
 And worse. The wolf, who from the nightly fold 
 Fierce drags the bleating prey, ne’er drunk her milk 
 Nor wore her warming fleece : nor has the steer. 
 
 At whose strong chest the deadly tyger hangs. 
 
 E’er plow’d for him. They too are temper’d high, 345 
 With hunger stung, and wild necessity ; 
 
 Nor lodges pity in their shaggy breast. 
 
 But Man, whom Nature form’d of milder clay. 
 
 With every kind emotion in his heart. 
 
 And taught alone to weep ; while from her lap 350 
 She pours ten thousand delicacies, herbs. 
 
 And fruits, as numerous as the drops of rain 
 Or beams that gave them birth : shall he, fair form ! 
 Who wears sweet smiles, and looks erect on Heaven, ‘ 
 
'X' 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 65 
 
 The Season described as it affects the various parts of Nature. 
 
 
 
 
 E’er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd, 355 
 And dip his tongue in gore ? The beast of prey, 
 Blood-stain’d, deserves to bleed : but you, ye flocks. 
 What have ye done ? ye peaceful people, what, 
 
 "lo merit death ? You, who have given us milk 
 In luscious streams, and lent us your own coat 360 
 Against the winter’s cold. And the plain ox, 
 
 1 hat 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 3 shall he bleed, 365 
 And struggling groan beneath the cruel hands 
 Ev’n of the clown he feeds } and that, perhaps. 
 
 To swell the riot of th’ autumnal feast. 
 
 Won by his labour ? Thus the feeling heart 
 Would tenderly suggest : but ’t is enough, 370 
 
 In this late age, adventurous, to have touch’d 
 Light on the numbers of the Samian sage. 
 
 High Heaven forbids the bold presumptuous strain. 
 Whose wisest will has fix’d us in a state 
 That must not yet to pure perfection rise. 375 
 
 Now when the first foul torrent of the brooks, 
 
 Swell’d with the vernal rains, is ebb’d away 5 
 
 E 
 
 I 
 
The Seas«n described as it affects the various parts of Nature. 
 
 And, whitening, down their mossy-tinctur’d stream 
 Descends the billowy foam : now is the time. 
 
 While yet the dark-brown water aids the guile, 380 
 To tempt the trout. The well-dissembled fly. 
 
 The rod fine-tapering with elastic spring. 
 
 Snatch’d from the hoary steed the floating line. 
 
 And all thy slender wat’ry stores prepare. 
 
 But let not on thy hook the tortur’d worm, 385 
 Convulsive, twist in agonizing folds ; 
 
 Which, by rapacious hunger swallow’d deep. 
 
 Gives, as you tear it from the bleeding breast 
 Of'^the weak helpless uncomplaining wretch. 
 
 Harsh pain and horror to the tender hand. 390 
 
 When with his lively ray the potent sun 
 Has pierc’d the streams, and rous’d 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. 395 
 High to their fount, this day, amid the hills. 
 
 And woodlands warbling round, trace up the brooks j 
 The next, pursue their rocky channel’d maze, 
 
 Down to the river, in whose ample wave 
 
 Their little naiads love to sport at large. 400 
 
SPRING. 
 
 67 
 
 
 
 The Season described as it aflfects the various parts of Nature. 
 
 
 
 Just in the dubious point, where with the pool 
 Is mix’d the trembling stream, or where it boils 
 Around the stone, or from the hollow’d bank 
 Reverted plays in undulating flow. 
 
 There throw, nice-judging, the delusive fly ; 405 
 
 And as you lead it round in artful curve. 
 
 With eye attentive mark the springing game. 
 
 Strait as above the surface of the flood 
 They w'anton rise, or urg’d by hunger leap. 
 
 Then fix, mth gentle twitch, the barbed hook : 410 
 
 Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank. 
 
 And to the shelving shore slow-dragging some. 
 
 With various hand proportion’d to their force. 
 
 If yet too young, and easily deceiv’d, 
 
 A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod j 415 
 Him, piteous of his youth and the short space 
 He has enjoy’d the vital light of Heaven, 
 
 Soft disengage ^ and back into the stream 
 The speckled captive' throw. But should you lure 
 From his dark haunt, beneath the tangled roots 429 
 Of pendent trees, the monarch of the brook. 
 
 Behoves you then to ply your finest art. 
 
 Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly j 
 
The Season described as it affects the various parts of Nature. 
 
 And oft attempts to seize it, but as oft 
 
 The dimpled water speaks his jealous fear. 425 
 
 At last, while haply o’er the shaded sun 
 
 Passes a cloud, he desperate takes the death. 
 
 With sullen plunge. At once he darts along. 
 
 Deep struck, and runs out all the lengtliened line j 
 Then seeks the farthest ooze, the sheltering weed, 430 
 The cavern’d bank, his old secure abode j 
 And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool. 
 
 Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand. 
 
 That feels him still, yet to his furious course 
 
 Gives way, you, now retiring, following now 435 
 
 Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage : 
 
 Till floating broad upon his breathless side. 
 
 And to his fate abandon’d, to the shore 
 You gaily drag your unresisting prize. 
 
 Thus pass the temperate hours ; but when the sun 
 Shakes from his noon-day throne the scattering clouds. 
 Even shooting listless languor through the deeps 5 
 Then seek the bank where flowering elders crowd. 
 Where scatter’d wild the lily of the vale 
 Its balmy essence breathes, where cowslips hang 445 * 
 The dewy head, where purple violets lurk. 
 
SPRING. 
 
 69 
 
 *- r ^ ^ r ^ r r ^ ^ * -T -» 
 
 
 Influence of the Season on Vegetables. 
 
 
 
 With all the lowly children of the shade : 
 
 Or lie reclin’d beneath yon spreading ash. 
 
 Hung o’er the steep j whence, borne on liquid wing, 
 The sounding culver shoots 5 or where the hawk, 450 
 High, in the beetling cliff, his aerie builds. 
 
 There let the classic page thy fancy lead , 
 
 Through rural scenes ; such as the Mantuan swain 
 Paints in the matchless harmony of song. 
 
 Or catch thyself the landscape, gliding swift 455 
 Athwart imagination’s vivid eye : 
 
 Or by the vocal woods and waters lull’d. 
 
 And lost in lonely musing, in the dream. 
 
 Confus’d, of careless solitude^ where mix 
 Ten thousand wandering images of things, 460 
 
 Soothe every gust of passion into peace j 
 All but the swellings of the softened heart. 
 
 That waken, not disturb, the tranquil mind. 
 
 Behold yon breathing prospect bids the muse 
 Throw all her beauty forth. But who can paint 465 
 Like Nature ? Can imagination boast. 
 
 Amid its gay creation, hues like her’s ? 
 
 Or can it mix them with that matchless skill. 
 
 And lose them in each other, as appears 
 
70 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Influence of the Season on Vegetables. 
 
 In every bud that blows ? If fancy then 
 
 470 
 
 Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task. 
 
 Ah what shall language do ? ah where find words 
 Ting’d with so many colours ; and whose power. 
 To life approaching, may perfume my lays 
 
 With that fine oil, those aromatic gales 
 
 475 
 
 That inexhaustive flow continual round ? 
 
 Yet, though successless, will the toil delight. 
 Come then, ye virgins and ye youths, whose hearts 
 Have felt the raptures of refining love j 
 
 And thou, Amanda, come, pride of my song! 480 
 
 Form’d by the Graces, loveliness itself! 
 
 Come with those downcast eyes, sedate and sweet. 
 Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the soul. 
 Where, with the light of thoughtful reason mix’d. 
 
 Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart : 
 
 485 
 
 Oh come ! and while the rosy-footed May 
 Steals blushing on, together let us tread 
 The morning-dews, and gather in their prime 
 Fresh-blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair. 
 
 And thy lov’d bosom that improves their sweets. 490 
 See, where the winding vale its lavish stores, 
 Irriguous, spreads. See, how the lily drinks 
 
71 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Influence of the Senson on Vegetables. 
 
 The latent rill, scarce oozing through the grass. 
 
 Of growth luxuriant ; or the humid bank. 
 
 In fair profusion decks. Long let us walk, 495 
 
 Where the breeze blows from yon extended field 
 Of blossom’d beans. Arabia cannot boast 
 A fuller gale of joy, than, liberal, thence 
 Breathes through the sense, and takes the ravish’d soul. 
 Nor is the mead unworthy of thy foot, 500 
 
 Full of fresh verdure, and unnumber’d flowers. 
 
 The negligence of Nature, wide, and wild j 
 Where, undisguis’d by mimic Art, she spreads 
 Unbounded beauty to the roving eye. 
 
 Here their delicious task the fervent bees, 505 
 
 In swarming millions, tend : around, athwart. 
 Through the soft air, the busy nations fly j 
 Cling to the bud, and, with inserted tube. 
 
 Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul j 
 And oft, with bolder wing, they soaring dare 510 
 The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows. 
 And yellow load them with the luscious spoil. 
 
 At length the finish’d garden .to the view 
 Its vistas opens, and its alleys green. 
 
 Snatch’d through the verdant maze, the hurried eye 515 
 

 
 72 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 
 Influence of the Season on Vegetables. 
 
 
 Distracted wanders j now the bowery walk 
 Of eovert close, where scarce a speck of day 
 Falls on the lengthened gloom, jirotracted sweeps : 
 Now meets the bending sky 3 the river now 
 Dimpling along, the breezy ruffled lake, 520 
 
 The forest darkening round, tlie glittering spire, 
 
 Th’ ethereal mountain, and the distant main. 
 
 But why so far excursive ? when at hand. 
 
 Along these blushing borders, bright with dew. 
 
 And in yon mingled wilderness of flowers, 525 
 
 Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace j “ 
 
 Throws out the snow-drop and the crocus first j 
 The daisy, primrose, violet darkly blue. 
 
 And polyanthus of unnumber’d dies ; 
 
 The yellow wall-flower, stain’d with iron brown ^ 530 
 And lavish stock that scents the garden round : 
 
 From the soft wing of vernal breezes shed, 
 
 Anemonies , auriculas, enrich’d 
 With shining meal o’er all their velvet leaves 5 
 ■^^^d full I’anunculas, of glowing red. 
 
 Then comes the tulip-race, where Beauty plays 
 Her idle freaks j from family diffus’d 
 To family, as flies the fiither-dust. 
 
 535 
 
SPRING. 
 
 75 
 
 Influence of the Season on Vegetables. 
 
 The varied colours run 5 and while they break 
 
 On the charm’d eye, th’ exulting florist marks, 540 
 
 With secret pride, the wonders of his hand. 
 
 No gradual bloom is wanting 3 from the bud. 
 
 First-born of Spring, to Summer’s musky tribes : 
 
 Nor hyacinths, of purest virgin white. 
 
 Low-bent, and blushing inward j nor jonquils, 545 
 
 * 
 
 Of potent fragrance 5 nor Narcissus fair. 
 
 As o’er the fabled fountain hanging still 3 
 Nor broad carnations, nor gay-spotted pinks 3 
 Nor, shower’d from every bush, the damask rose. 
 Infinite numbers, delicacies, smells, 550 
 
 With hues on hues expression cannot paint. 
 
 The breath of Nature, and her endless bloom. 
 
 Hail, Source of Being ! Universal Soul 
 Of heaven and earth ! Essential Presence, hail ! 
 
 To Thee I bend the knee 3 to Thee my thoughts, 555 
 Continual, climb 3 who, with a master-hand. 
 
 Hast the great whole into perfection touch’d. 
 
 By Thee the various vegetative tribes. 
 
 Wrapt in a filmy net, and clad with leaves. 
 
 Draw the live ether, and imbibe the dew : 
 
 By Thee dispos’d into congenial soils. 
 
 560 
 
InHuence of the Season on Animal*. 
 
 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 565 
 
 By wintiy winds j that now in fluent dance. 
 
 And lively fermentation, mounting, spreads 
 All this innumerous-colour’d scene of things. 
 
 As rising from the vegetable world 
 My theme ascends, with equal wing ascend, 570 
 My panting Muse ! and hark, how loud the woods 
 Invite you forth in all your gayest trim. 
 
 Lend me your song, ye nightingales ! oh pour 
 The mazy-running soul of melody 
 Into my varied verse 3 while I deduce, 575 
 
 From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings. 
 
 The symphony of Spring j and touch a theme 
 Unknown to fame, the passion of the groves. IV ? i.; 
 
 When first the soul of love is sent abroad. 
 
 Warm through the vital air, and on the heart 580 
 Harmonious seizes j the gay troops begin. 
 
 In gallant thought, to plume the painted wing j 
 And try again the long-forgotten strain. 
 
 At first faint-warbled. But no sooner grows 
 
SPRING. 
 
 75 
 
 Influence of the Season on Animals. 
 
 The soft infusion prevalent^ and wide, 585 
 
 Than, all alive, at once their joy o’erflows 
 In music unconfin’d. Up-springs the lark, 
 Shrill’d-voic’d, and loud, the messenger of morn : 
 
 Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings 
 
 Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts 590 
 
 Calls up the tuneful nations. Every copse 
 
 Deep-tangled, tree irregular, and bush 
 
 Bending with dewy moisture, o’er the heads 
 
 Of the coy ^uiristers that lodge within. 
 
 Are prodigal of harmony. The thrush, 595 
 
 And wood-lark, o’er the kind-contending throng 
 
 Superior heard, run through the sweetest length 
 
 Of notes j when listening Philomela deigns 
 
 To let them joy, and purposes, in thought 
 
 Elate, to make her night excel their day. 600 
 
 The black-bird whistles from the thorny brake ^ 
 
 ITie mellow bullfinch answers from the grove ; 
 
 Nor are the linnets, o’er the flowering furze 
 Pour’d out profusely silent. Join’d to these, 
 Innumerous songsters, in the freshening shade 605 
 Of new-sprung leaves, their modulation mix 
 Mellifluous. The jay, the rook, the daw, ' 
 
76 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 
 ^ f ^ ^ jr ^ ^ ^ ^ r- ^ ^ 
 
 Influence of the Season on Animals. 
 
 And each harsh pipe, discordant heard alone. 
 
 Aid the full concert : while the stock-dove breathes 
 A melancholy murmur through the whole. 610 
 
 ’Tis love creates their melody, and all 
 This waste of music is the voice of love ; 
 
 That ev’n to birds, and beasts, the tender arts 
 Of pleasing teaches. Hence the glossy kind 
 Try exery winning way inventive love 615 
 
 Can dictate ; and in courtship to their mates 
 Pour forth their little souls. First, wide around. 
 With distant awe, in aiiy rings they rove 3 
 Endeavouring by a thousand tricks to catch 
 The cunning, conscious, half-averted glance 620 
 Of their regardless charmer. Should she seem 
 Softening the least approvance to bestow. 
 
 Their colours burnish, and by hope inspir’d. 
 
 They brisk advance j then on a sudden struck. 
 
 Retire disorder’d 3 then again approach 3 625 
 
 In fond rotation spread the spotted wing. 
 
 And shiver every feather with desire. 
 
 Connubial leagues agreed, to the deep woods 
 They haste away, all as their fancy leads. 
 
 Pleasure, or food, or secret safety prompts 3 630 
 
Influence of the Season on Animals. 
 
 That Nature’s great command may be obey’d : 
 
 Nor all the sweet sensations they perceive 
 Indulg’d in vain. Some to the holly-hedge 
 Nestling repair, and to the thicket some ; 
 
 Some to the rude protection of the thorn 635 
 
 Commit their feeble offspring : the cleft tree 
 Offers its kind concealment to a few 5 
 Their food its insects, and its moss their nests. 
 
 Others apart far in the grassy dale. 
 
 Or roughening waste, their humble texture weave. 640 
 But most in woodland solitudes delight 3 
 In unfrequented glooms, or shaggy banks, 
 
 Steep, and divided by a babbling brook, V’ «' 
 
 Whose murmurs soothe them all the live-long day. 
 When by kind duty fix’d. Among the roots 645 
 Of hazel, pendent o’er the plaintive stream. 
 
 They frame, the first foundation of their domes 3 
 Dry sprigs of trees, in artful fabric laid. 
 
 And bound with clay together. Now ’t is nought 
 But restless hurry through the busy air, 650 
 
 Beat by unnumber’d wings. The swallow sweeps 
 The slimy pool, to build his hanging house 
 Intent. And often, from the careless back 
 
78 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 
 
 ^ r j- f 4 
 
 
 Influence of the Season on Animals. 
 
 -f'-r r ^ r- ^ f 
 
 Of herds and flocks, a thousand tugging bills 
 Pluck hair and wool; and oft, when unobserv’d, 655 
 Steal from the barn a straw : till soft and warm. 
 Clean, and complete, their habitation grows. 
 
 As thus the patient dam assiduous sits. 
 
 Not to be tempted from her tender task. 
 
 Or by sharp hunger, or by smooth delight, 660 
 
 Though the whole loosened Spring around her blows ; 
 
 Her sympathizing lover takes his stand 
 
 High on th’ opponent bank, and ceaseless sings 
 
 The tedious time away ; or else supplies 
 
 Her place a moment, while she sudden flits 665 
 
 To pick the scanty meal. Th’ appointed time 
 
 With pious toil fulfill’d, the callow young. 
 
 Warm’d and expanded into perfect life. 
 
 Their brittle bondage break ; and come to light, 
 
 A helpless family demanding food ^ 
 
 With constant clamour ; O what passions then. 
 
 What melting sentiments of kindly care. 
 
 On the new parents seize ! away they fly 
 Affectionate, and undesiring bear 
 The most delicious morsel to their young ; 
 
 Which equally distributed, again 
 
 670 
 
 675 
 
SPRING 
 
 79 
 
 ^ ^ ^ T S' ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ J" ^ T f -t ^ sSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SS S XS S SS S S* f S' 
 
 Influence of the Season on Animals. 
 
 The search begins. Even so a gentle pair. 
 
 By fortune sunk, but form’d of generous mould. 
 
 And charm’d with cares beyond the vulgar breast j 
 In some lone cot amid the distant woods, 680 
 
 Sustain’d alone by providential Heaven j 
 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 inspir’d, 685 
 Gives instant courage to the fearful race. 
 
 And to the simple, art. With stealthy wing. 
 
 Should some rude foot their w'oody haunts molest. 
 Amid a neighbouring bush they silent drop. 
 
 And whining thence, as if alarm’d, deceive 690 
 
 Th’ unfeeling school-boy. Hence, around the head 
 Of wandering swain, the white-wing’d plover wheels 
 Her sounding flight j and then directly on 
 In long excursion skims the level lawn. 
 
 To tempt him from her nest. The wild-duck, hence. 
 O’er the rough moss, and o’er the trackless waste 
 The heath-hen flutters, pious fraud ! to lead 
 The hot-pursuing spaniel far astray. 
 
 

 
 80 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Influence of the Season on Animals. 
 
 Be not the Muse asham’tl, here to bemoan 
 Her brothers of the grove, by tyrant Man 
 Inhuman caught, and in the narrow cage 
 From liberty confin’d, and boundless air. 
 
 Dull are the pretty slaves, their plumage dull. 
 
 Ragged, and all its brightening lustre lost j 
 
 Nor is that sprightly wildness in their notes, 705 
 
 Which, clear and vigorous, warbles from the beech. 
 Oh then, ye friends of love and love-taught song. 
 Spare the soft tribes, this barbarous art forbear j 
 If on your bosom innocence can win. 
 
 Music engage, or piety persuade. 
 
 710 
 
 But let not chief the nightingale lament 
 Her ruin’d care, too delicately fram’d 
 To brook the harsh confinement of the cage. 
 Oft when, returning with her loaded bill. 
 
 Th’ astonish’d mother finds a vacant nest. 
 
 715 
 
 By the hard hand of unrelenting clowns 
 Robb’d, to the ground the vain provision falls j 
 Her pinions ruffle, and low-drooping scarce 
 Can bear the mourner to the poplar shade 5 
 Where, all abandon’d to despair, she sings 
 
 720 
 
SPRING. 
 
 81 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
 ^ ^ r r ^ r ^ ^ r ^ ^ r- ^ f T' ^ ^ 
 
 Influence of the Season on Animals. 
 
 ^ ~ ^ t-T J- ^ r j- r ff ^ J- ^ ^ 
 
 Her sorrows through the night j and, on the bough. 
 Sole-sitting, still at eveiy 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. 725 
 But now the feather’d youth their former bounds. 
 Ardent, disdain 3 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. 730 
 
 Unlavish Wisdom never works in vain. 
 
 ’Tis on some evening, sunny, grateful, mild. 
 
 When nought but balm is breathing through the woods. 
 With yellow lustre bright, that the new tribes 
 Visit the spacious heavens, and look abroad 735 
 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 3 their pinions still. 
 
 In loose libration stretch’d, to trust the void 740 
 Trembling refuse : till down before them fly 
 The parent-guides, and chide, exhort, command. 
 
 Or push them off. The surging air receives 
 
 F 
 

 h 'I 
 
 ' [ 
 
 82 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Influence of the Season on Animals. 
 
 r r- r r- ^ 
 
 r^ f ^ F- -T .r -f -r^ 
 
 Its plumy burden ) and their self-taught wings 
 Winnow the waving element. On ground 745 
 
 Alighted, bolder up again they lead. 
 
 Farther and farther on, the lengthening flight 3 
 Till vanish’d every fear, and every power 
 Rous’d into life and action, light in air 
 Th’ acquitted parents see their soaring race, 750 
 And once rejoicing never know them more. 
 
 High from the summit of a craggy cliflf. 
 
 Hung o’er the deep, such as amazing frowns 
 On utmost Hilda’s shore 3 whose lonely race 
 Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds 3 755 
 
 The royal eagle draws his vigorous young, 
 Strong-pounc’d, and ardent with paternal fire 3 
 Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own. 
 
 He drives them from his fort, the towering seat. 
 
 For ages, of his empire 5 which, in peace, 7 60 
 
 Unstain’d he holds, while many a league to sea 
 He wings his course, and preys in distant isles. 
 
 Should I my steps turn to the rural seat. 
 
 Whose lofty elms, and venerable oaks. 
 
 Invite the rook 3 who high amid the boughs, 765 
 In early Spring, his airy city builds. 
 
 V 
 
SPRING. 
 
 83 
 
 
 
 Inflnence of the Season on Animals. 
 
 
 And ceaseless caws amusive ; there, well-pleas’d, 
 
 I might the various polity survey 
 
 Of the mix’d household kind. The careful hen 
 
 Calls all her chirping family around, 770 
 
 Fed and defended by the fearless cock j 
 
 Wliose breast with ardour flames, as on he walks 
 
 Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond. 
 
 The finely-checker’d duck before her train. 
 
 Rows garrulous. The stately-sailing swan 775 
 
 Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale ; 
 
 And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet 
 Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier-isle. 
 Protective of his young. The turkey nigh. 
 Loud-threatening, reddens 3 while the peacock spreads 
 His every-colour’d glory to the sun. 
 
 And swims in radiant majesty along. 
 
 O’er the whole homely scene, the cooing dove 
 Flies thick in amorous chase, and wanton rolls 
 The glancing eye, and turns the changeful neck. 785 
 While thus the gentle tenants of the shade 
 Indulge theii’ purer loves, the rougher world 
 Of brutes, below, rush furious into flame. 
 
 And fierce desire. Through all his lusty veins 
 
% » 
 
 i: r 
 
 if, . 
 
 
 
 
 -if- 
 
 
 I i! 
 
 ■L'l'i 
 
 «f 
 
 84 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Influence of the Season on Animals, 
 
 The bull, deep-scorch’d, the raging passion feels. 790 
 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 j or through the mazy wood 
 Dejected wanders j nor th’ enticing bud 795 
 
 Crops, though it presses on his careless sense. 
 
 And oft, in jealous mad’ning fancy wrapt. 
 
 He seeks the fight j and, idly-butting, feigns 
 His rival gor’d in every knotty trunk. 
 
 Him should he meet, the bellowing war begins : 800 
 
 Their eyes flash fury 3 to the hollow’d earth. 
 
 Whence the sand flies, they mutter bloody deeds. 
 
 And groaning deep, th’ impetuous battle mix : 
 
 While the fair heifer, balmy-breathing, near. 
 
 Stands kindling up their rage. The trembling steed. 
 With this hot impulse seiz’d in every nerve. 
 
 Nor heeds the rein, nor hears the saunding thong : 
 Blows are not felt 3 but tossing high his head. 
 
 And by the well-known joy to distant plains 
 Attracted strong, all wild he bursts away 3 810 
 
 O’er rocks, and woods, and craggy mountains flies ; 
 And, neighing, on the aerial summit takes 
 
SPRING. 
 
 85 
 
 
 Influence of the Season on Animals. 
 
 j- r T T ^ » 
 
 ■r-f r r- r'^ * 
 
 Th’ exciting gale j then, steep-descending, cleaves 
 The headlong torrents foaming down the hills. 
 
 Even where the madness of the straiten’d stream 815 
 Turns in black eddies round j such is the force 
 With which his frantic heart and sinews swell. 
 
 Nor undelighted by the boundless Spring 
 Are the broad monsters of the foaming deep : 
 
 From the deep ooze and gelid cavern rous’d, 820 
 They flounce and tumble in unwieldy joy. 
 
 Dire were the strain, and dissonant, to sing 
 The cruel raptures of the savage kind : 
 
 How by this flame their native wrath sublim’d. 
 
 They roam, amid the fury of their heart, 825 
 
 The far-resounding waste in fiercer bands. 
 
 And growl their horrid loves. But this the theme 
 I sing, enraptur’d, to the British Fair, 
 
 Forbids, and leads me to the mountain-brow. 
 
 Where sits the shepherd on the grassy turf, 830 
 
 Inhaling, healthful, the descending sun. 
 
 Around him feeds his many-bleating flock. 
 
 Of various cadence and his sportive lambs. 
 
 This way and that convolv’d, in friskful glee. 
 
 Their frolics play. And now the sprightly race 835 
 
86 
 
 SPRING 
 
 
 Influence of the Season on Animals, 
 
 ^ ^ V- -r ^ ^ ^ -r y* ^ v' v-./- ^ ^ ^ J- -/■ -/^ ^>A-r V- J- ^ -r ^ > 
 
 
 ^ ^ V j* y -r ,AV -A ^ ^ 
 
 Invites them forth 3 when swift, the signal given. 
 They start away, and sweep the massy mound 
 That runs around the hill 3 the rampart once 
 
 Of iron war, in ancient barbarous times. 
 
 When disunited Britain ever bled, 840 
 
 Lost in eternal broil : ere yet she grew 
 To this deep-laid indissoluble state. 
 
 Where Wealth and Commerce lift their golden heads 5 
 And o’er our labours. Liberty and Law, 
 
 Impartial, watch 3 the wonder of a world ! S45 
 
 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, 850 
 
 And unremitting Energy, pervades. 
 
 Adjusts, sustains, and agitates the whole. 
 
 He ceaseless works alone 3 and yet alone 
 Seems not to work : with such perfection fram’d 
 Is this complex stupendous scheme of things. 855 
 But, though conceal’d, to eveiy purer eye 
 Th’ informing Author in his Works appears : 
 
 Chief, lovely Spring ! in thee, and thy soft scenes. 
 
SPRING. 
 
 87 
 
 Effects on Man. 
 
 The Smiling God is seen j while water, earth. 
 
 And air attest his bounty j which exalts S60 
 
 The brute creation to this finer thought. 
 
 And annual melts their undesigning hearts 
 Profusely thus in tenderness and joy. 
 
 Still let my song a nobler note assume. 
 
 And sing th’ infusive force of Spring on Man 3 865 
 
 When heaven and earth, as if contending, vie 
 To raise his being, and serene his soul. 
 
 Can he forbear to join the general smile 
 Of Nature ? Can fierce passions vex his breast. 
 
 While every gale is peace, and every grove 870 
 
 Is melody ? Hence ! from the bounteous walks 
 Of flowing Spring, ye sordid sons of earth. 
 
 Hard, and unfeeling of another’s woe 3 
 Or only lavish to yourselves 3 away ! 
 
 But come, ye generous minds, in whose wide thought, ‘ 
 Of all his works. Creative Bounty burns 
 With warmest beam ; and on your open front 
 And liberal eye, sits, from his dark retreat 
 Inviting modest want. Nor, till invok’d. 
 
 Can restless goodness wait 3 your active search 880 
 

 I 
 
 i 
 
 i , 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 S8 SPRING. 
 
 Leaves no cold wintry corner unexplor’d j 
 Like silent-working Heaven^ surprising oft 
 The lonely heart with unexpected good. 
 
 For you, the roving spirit of the wind 
 Blows Spring abroad j for you, the teeming clouds 885 
 Descend in gladsome plenty o’er the world j 
 And the sun sheds his kindest rays for you. 
 
 Ye flower of human race ! In these green days. 
 Reviving Sickness lifts her languid head ; 
 
 Life flows afresh ; and young-ey’d Health exalts 890 
 
 The whole creation round. Contentment walks 
 
 The sunny glade, and feels an inward bliss 
 
 Spring o’er his mind, beyond the power of kings 
 
 To purchase. Pure serenity apace 
 
 Induces thought, and contemplation still. 895 
 
 By swift degrees the love of Nature works. 
 
 And warms the bosom 3 till at last sublim’d 
 To rapture, and enthusiastic heat. 
 
 We feel the present Deity, and taste 
 The joy of God to see a happy world ! 90O 
 
 These are the sacred feelings of thy heart. 
 
 Thy heart inform’d by reason’s purer ray. 
 
 ■ ¥ 
 
 
 
 
SPRING. 
 
 89 
 
 
 Beauties of Hagley. 
 
 O Lyttleton, the friend ! thy passions thus 
 And meditations vary, as at large. 
 
 Courting the Muse, through Hagley Park thou stray’st j 
 Thy British Tempe ! There along the dale. 
 
 With woods o’erhung, and shagg’d with mossy rocks. 
 Whence on each hand the gushing waters play \ 
 
 And down the rough cascade white-dashing fall. 
 
 Or gleam in lengthened vista through the trees, 910 
 You silent steal j 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, 915 
 The hollow-whispering breeze, the plaint of rills. 
 That, purling down amid the twisted roots 
 Wliich creep around, their dewy murmurs shake 
 On the sooth’d ear. From .these abstracted, oft 
 You wander through the philosophic world j 920 
 W'hcre 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, 925 
 
90 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 f ^ -f -f ■f‘ -f- T- f~ ^ r ^ ^ ^ J' ^ -f r r'^.r-^s^ ^ ^ 
 
 Btautieg of Hagley. 
 
 And honest zeal, unwarp’d by party-rage, 
 
 Britannia’s weal; how from the venal gulph 
 To raise her virtue, and her arts revive. 
 
 Or, turning thence thy view, these graver thoughts 
 The Muses charm : while, with sure taste refin’d, 930 
 You draw th’ inspiring breath of ancient song j 
 ’Till nobly rises, emulous, thy own. 
 
 Perhaps thy lov’d Lucinda shares thy walk. 
 
 With soul to thine attun’d. Then Nature all 
 Wears to the lover’s eye a look of love ; 935 
 
 And all the tumult of a guilty world. 
 
 Tost by ungenerous passions, sinks away. 
 
 The tender heart is animated peace ; 
 
 And as it pours its copious treasures forth. 
 
 In varied converse, softening every theme, 940 
 
 You, frequent-pausing, turn, and from her eyes. 
 
 Where meekened sense, and amiable grace. 
 
 And lively sweetness dwell, enraptur’d, drink 
 That nameless spirit of ethereal joy. 
 
 Unutterable happiness ! which love, 945 
 
 Alone, bestows, and on a favour’d few. 
 
 Meantime you gain the height, from whose fair brow 
 The bursting prospect spreads immense around 5 
 
SPRING. 
 
 91 
 
 Advice to the young Fair. 
 
 
 And snatch’d o’er hill and dale, and wood and lawn. 
 And verdant field, and darkening heath between, 950 
 And villages embosom’d soft in trees. 
 
 And spiry towns by surging columns mark’d 
 Of household smoke, your eye excursive roams : 
 Wide-stretching from the Hall, in whose kind haunt 
 The hospitable Genius lingers still, 955 
 
 To where the broken landscape, by degrees. 
 Ascending, roughens into rigid hills j 
 O’er which the Cambrian mountains, like far clouds 
 That skirt the blue horizon, dusky rise. 
 
 Flush’d by the spirit of the genial year, 960 
 
 Now from the Virgin’s cheek a fresher bloom 
 Shoots, less and less, the live carnation round j 
 Her lips blush deeper sweets j she breathes of youth j 
 The shining moisture swells into her eyes. 
 
 In brighter flow •, her wishing bosom heaves, 965 
 With palpitations wild kind tumults seize 
 Her veins, and all her yielding soul is love. 
 
 From the keen gaze her lover turns away 
 Full of the dear ecstatic power, and sick 
 With sighing languishment. Ah then, ye fair ! 970 
 
 Be greatly cautious of your sliding hearts : 
 

 
 
 
 92 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 ^ ^ ff t 
 
 -f f ^ ^ ^ r- ^ ^ j- ^ ^ j 
 
 Advice to young Men respecting Love, 
 
 ^ ^ j 
 
 Dare not th’ infectious sigh •, the pleading look. 
 Downcast, and low, in meek submission drest. 
 But full of guile. Let not the fervent tongue. 
 Prompt to deceive, with adulation smooth. 
 
 Gain on your purpos’d will. Nor in the bower. 
 Where woodbines flaunt, and roses shed a couch. 
 While evening draws her crimson curtains round. 
 Trust your soft minutes with betraying Man. 
 
 And let tli’ aspiring youth beware of love. 
 
 Of the smooth glance beware j for ’t is too late. 
 When on his heart the torrent-softness pours j 
 Then wisdom prostrate lies, and fading fame 
 Dissolves in air away j while the fond soul. 
 
 Wrapt in gay visions of unreal bliss. 
 
 Still paints th’ illusive form j the kindling grace j 
 Th’ inticing smile j the modest-seeming eye. 
 Beneath whose beauteous beams, belying Heaven, 
 Lurk searchless cunning, cruelty, and death : 
 
 And still, false-warbling in his cheated ear. 
 
 Her syren voice, enchanting, draws him on 
 To guileful shores, and meads of fatal joy. 
 
 Even present, in the very lap of love 
 Inglorious laid ; while music flows around. 
 
 980 
 
 985 
 
 990 
 
SPRING. 
 
 93 
 
 
 A Lover described. 
 
 ^ r S' -• s-s s s-s s s'ss s ss'sss-ssss-s-rs ss-s-s s s s s ss-s- s s r r-ss-s ■r-^-T-s- J- ^ 
 
 Perfumes, and oils, and wine, and wanton hours 5 
 Amid the roses fierce Repentance rears 
 Her snaky crest : a quick-returning pang 
 Shoots through the conscious heart j where honour still. 
 And great design, against th’ oppressive load 
 Of luxury, by fits, impatient heave. 1000 
 
 But absent, what fantastic woes arous’d. 
 
 Rage in each thought, by restless musing fed. 
 
 Chill the warm cheek, and blast the bloom of life ! 
 Neglected fortune flies j and sliding swift. 
 
 Prone into ruin, fall his scorn’d affairs. 1005 
 
 ’Tis nought but gloom around : the darkened sun 
 Loses his light : the rosy-bosom’d Spring 
 To weeping fancy pines j and yon bright arch. 
 Contracted, bends into a dusky vault. 
 
 All Nature fades extinct j and she alone 1010 
 
 Heard, felt, and seen, possesses every thought. 
 
 Fills every sense, and pants in every vein. 
 
 Books are but formal dulness, tedious friends ; 
 
 And sad amid the social band he sits. 
 
 Lonely, and unattentive. From his tongue 1015 
 Th’ unfinish’d period falls : while borne away 
 On swelling thought, his wafted spirit flies 
 
94 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 A Lover deicribed. 
 
 To the vain bosom of his distant fair ^ 
 
 And leaves the semblance of a lover, fix’d 
 In melancholy site, with head declin’d. 
 
 And love-dejected eyes. Sudden he starts. 
 Shook from his tender trance, and restless runs 
 
 To glimmering shades, and sympathetic glooms; 
 Where the dun umbrage o’er the falling stream. 
 Romantic, hangs ; there through the pensive dusk 102& 
 Strays, in heart-thrilling meditation lost. 
 
 Indulging all to love : or on the bank 
 
 Thrown, amid drooping lilies, swells the breeze 
 With sighs unceasing, and the brook with tears. 
 
 Thus in soft anguish he consumes the day, 1030 
 Nor quits his deep retirement, till the Moon 
 Peeps through the chambers of the fleecy East, 
 Enlightened by degrees, and in her train 
 Leads on the gentle hours j then forth he walks. 
 Beneath the trembling languish of her beam, 1035 
 With softened soul, and wooes the bird of eve 
 To mingle woes with his : or, while the world 
 And all the sons of Care lie hush’d in sleep. 
 
 Associates with the midnight shadows drear j 
 And, sighing to the lonely taper, pours io4o 
 
A Lover described. 
 
 His idly-tortur’d heart into the page. 
 
 Meant for the moving messenger of love ; 
 
 Where rapture burns on rapture, every line 
 
 With rising frenzy fir’d. But if on bed 
 
 Delirious flung, sleep from his pillow flies. 1045 
 
 All night he tosses, nor the balmy power 
 
 In any posture finds j till the grey morn 
 
 Lifts her pale lustre on the paler wretch. 
 
 Exanimate by love ; and then perhaps 
 
 Exhausted Nature sinks awhile to rest, 1050 
 
 Still interrupted by distracted dreams. 
 
 That o’er the sick imagination rise. 
 
 And in black colours paint the mimic scene. 
 
 Oft with th’ enchantress of his soul he talks j 
 Sometimes in crowds distress’d 3 or if retir’d 1055 
 To secret winding flower-enwoven bowers. 
 
 Far from the dull impertinence of Man 3 
 Just as he, credulous, his endless cares 
 Begins to lose in blind oblivious love. 
 
 Snatch’d from her yielded hand, he knows not how. 
 Through forests huge, and long untravel’d heaths 
 With desolation brown, he wanders waste. 
 
 In night and tempest wrapt 3 or shiinks aghast. 
 
96 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Effects of Jealousy in Youth. 
 
 Back, from the bending precipice j or wades 
 
 The turbid stream below, and strives to reach 1065 
 
 The farther shore ; where succourless and sad. 
 
 She with extended arms his aid implores j 
 But strives in vain 3 borne by th’ outrageous flood 
 To distance down, he rides the ridgy wave. 
 
 Or whelm’d beneath the boiling eddy sinks. IO70 
 These are the charming agonies of love. 
 
 Whose misery delights. But through the heart 
 Should jealousy its venom once difiiise, 
 
 ’Tis then delightful misery no more ; 
 
 But agony unmix’d, incessant gall, 10 T 5 
 
 Corroding every thought, and blasting all 
 Love’s paradise. Ye fairy prospects, then. 
 
 Ye beds of roses, and ye bowers of joy. 
 
 Farewell ! Ye gleanings of departed peace. 
 
 Shine out your last ! the yellow-tinging plague 1080 
 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, 1085 
 
 Suflus’d and glaring with untender fire ; 
 
SPRING. 
 
 97 
 
 
 Effects of Jealousy in Youth. 
 
 A clouded aspect, and a burning cheek. 
 
 Where the whole poison’d soul, malignant, sits. 
 
 And frightens love away. . Ten thousand fears 
 Invented wild, ten thousand frantic views 1090 
 
 Of horrid rivals, hanging on the charms 
 For which he melts in fondness, eat him up 
 With fervent anguish, and consuming rage. 
 
 In vain reproaches lend their idle aid. 
 
 Deceitful pride, and resolution frail, 1095 
 
 Giving false peace a moment. Fancy pours. 
 
 Afresh, her beauties on his busy thought. 
 
 Her first endearments twining round the soul. 
 
 With aU the witchcraft of ensnaring love. 
 
 Straight the fierce storm involves his mind anew, 1 100 
 Flames through the nerves, and boils along the veins ; 
 While anxious doubt distracts the tortur’d heart : 
 
 For ev’n the sad assurance of his fears 
 
 Were ease to what he feels. Thus the warm youth. 
 
 Whom love deludes into his thorny wilds, 1 105 
 
 Through flowery-tempting paths, or leads a life 
 
 Of fevered rapture, or of cruel care j 
 
 His brightest flames extinguish’d all, and all 
 
 His lively moments miming down to waste. 
 
 G 
 
98 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 But happy they ! the happiest of their kind ! llio 
 Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate. 
 
 Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend 
 ’Tis not the coarser tie of human laws. 
 
 Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind. 
 
 That binds their peace, but harmony itself, ^1115 
 
 Attuning aU their passions into love 3 
 
 Where friendship full-exerts her softest power. 
 
 Perfect esteem enlivened by desire 
 
 Ineffable, and sympathy of soul j 
 
 Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will. 
 
 With boundless confidence : for nought but love 
 
 Can answer love, and render bliss secure. 
 
 Let him, ungenerous, who, alone intent 
 To bless himself, from sordid parents buys 
 The loathing virgin, in eternal care, 1125 
 
 Well-merited, consume his nights and days j 
 Let barbarous nations, whose inhuman love 
 Is wild desire, fierce as the suns they feel ^ 
 
 Let Eastern tyrants, from the light of Heaven 
 Seclude their bosom-slaves, meanly possess’d 1130 
 Of a mere lifeless, violated form j 
 While those whom love cements in holy faith. 
 
SPRING. 
 
 99 
 
 j- -F- i 
 
 Delights from a rising Offspring. 
 
 
 •r ^ ■T'^ 
 
 r -^^-r ^ ^ j 
 
 And equal transport, free as Nature live. 
 
 Disdaining fear. What is the world to them ? 
 
 Its pomps, its pleasure, and its nonsense all? 1135 
 Who in each other clasp whatever fair 
 High fancy forms, and lavish hearts can wish j 
 Something than beauty dearer, should they look 
 Or on the mind, or mind-illumin’d face 5 
 Truth, goodness, honour, harmony, and love, 1140 
 The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven. • 
 Meantime a smiling offspring rises round. 
 
 And mingles both their graces. Ry degrees. 
 
 The human blossom blows j and every day. 
 
 Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charm, 1145 
 The father’s lustre, and the mother’s bloom. 
 
 Then infant reason grows apace, and calls 
 For the kind hand of an assiduous care. 
 
 Delighful task ! to rear the tender thought. 
 
 To teach the )Oung idea, how to shoot, 1150 
 
 To pour the fresh instruction o’er the mind. 
 
 To breathe th’ enlivening spirit, and to fix 
 The generous purpose in the glowing breast. 
 
 Oh speak the joy ! ye, whom the sudden tear 
 Surprises often, while you look around, 1155 
 
 
 ii: 
 
 ^1 
 
SPRING. 
 
 100 
 
 Delights from a rising Offspring. 
 
 And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss. 
 
 All various Nature pressing on the heart y 
 An elegant sufficieney, content. 
 
 Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books. 
 
 Ease and alternate labour, useful life, 1160 
 
 Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven. 
 
 These are the matchless joys of virtuous love 5 
 And thus their moments fly. The Seasons thus. 
 
 As ceaseless round a jaiTing world they roll. 
 
 Still find them happy; and consenting Spring 1165 
 Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads : 
 
 Till evening comes at last, serene and mild ; 
 
 When after the long vernal day of life. 
 
 Enamour’d more, as more remembrance swells 
 With many a proof of recollected love, II70 
 
 Together down they sink in social sleep ; 
 
 Together freed, their gentle spirits fly 
 To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign. 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 The subject proposed.— Invocation.— Address to Mr. Dodin^on. 
 —An introductory reflection on the motion of the heavenly 
 bodies ; whence the succession of the seasons. — As the face 
 of Nature in this season is almost uniform, the progress of 
 
 the poem is a description of a summer’s day. — The dawn. 
 
 Sun-rising.— Hymn to the Sun.— Forenoon.— Summer in- 
 sects described.— Hay-making.— Sheep-shearing.— Noon-day. 
 
 —A woodland retreat.— Group of herds and flocks.— A so- 
 lemn grove: how it affects a contemplative mind.— A cata- 
 ract, and rude scene. View of Summer in the torrid zone. 
 
 Storm of thunder and lightning.— A tale.— The storm over, 
 a serene afternoon.— Bathing.— Hour of walking.— Tran- 
 sition to the prospect of a rich well-cultivated country; 
 which introduces a panegyric on Great Britain.— Sun-set.— 
 
 Evening. — Night. — Summer meteors. — A comet. The 
 
 whole concluding with the praise of philosophy. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 luscribed to Mr. Dodington. 
 
 From brightening fields of ether fair disclos’d. 
 
 Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes. 
 
 In pride of youth, and felt through Nature’s depth. 
 
 He comes attended by the sultry Hours, 
 
 And ever-fanning Breezes, on his way j 5 
 
 While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring 
 Averts her blushful face 5 and earth, and skies. 
 All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves. 
 
 Hence, let me haste into the mid-wood shade. 
 Where scarce a sun-beam wanders through the gloom j 
 And on the dark-green grass, beside the brink 
 Of haunted stream, that by the roots of oak 
 Rolls o’er the rocky channel, lie at large. 
 
 And sing the glories of the circling year. 
 
 Come, Inspiration ! from thy hermit-seat. 
 
 15 
 
104 
 
 SUMMER, 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Inscribed to Mr. Dodiogton. 
 
 *■ r r T ^ ^ ^ r" • 
 
 f ^ ^-r- r-^ f r r r 
 
 By mortal seldom found : may Fancy dare^ 
 
 From thy fix’d serious eye, and raptur’d glance 
 Shot on surrounding Heaven, to steal one look 
 Creative of the Poet, every power 
 Exalting to an ecstacy of soul. 20 
 
 And thou, my youthful Muse’s early friend. 
 
 In whom the human graces all unite : 
 
 Pure light of mind, and tenderness of heart 5 
 Genius, and wisdom j the gay social sense. 
 
 By decency chastis’d 3 goodness and wit, 25 
 
 In seldom-meeting harmony combin’d 5 
 Unblemish’d honour, and an active zeal 
 For Britain’s glory. Liberty, and Man : 
 
 O Dodington ! attend my rural song. 
 
 Stoop to my theme, inspirit every line, 30 
 
 And teach me to deserve thy just applause. 
 
 With what an awful world-revolving power 
 Were first the unwieldy planets launch’d along 
 Th’ illimitable void ! Thus to remain. 
 
 Amid the flux of many thousand years, 35 
 
 That oft has swept the toiling race of Men, 
 
 And all their labour’d monuments away. 
 
 Firm, unremitting, matchless, in their course 3 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 105 
 
 Inscribed to Mr. Dodington. 
 
 To the kind-temper’d change of night and day. 
 
 And of the Seasons ever stealing round, 40 
 
 Minutely faithful : such th’ all-perfect Hand ! 
 
 That pois’d, impels, and rules the steady whole. 
 
 When now no more th’ alternate Twins are fir’d. 
 And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze. 
 
 Short is the doubtful empire of the night j 45 
 
 And soon, observant of approaching day. 
 
 The meek-ey’d Morn appears, mother of dews. 
 
 At first faint-gleaming in the dappled East ; 
 
 Till far o’er ether spreads the widening glow j 
 And, from before the lustre of her face, 50 
 
 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. 55 
 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 50 
 
 The native voice of undissembled joy j 
 
106 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 The Benefit of early rising. 
 
 
 And thick around the woodland hymns arise. 
 
 Rous’d by the cock, the soon-clad shepherd leaves 
 His mossy cottage, where with Peace he dwells j 
 And from the crowded fold, in order, drives 65 
 
 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 ? 70 
 
 For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise ? 
 
 To lie in dead oblivion, losing half 
 The fleeting moments of too short a life j 
 Total extinction of th’ enlightened soul ! 
 
 Or else to feverish vanity alive, 75 
 
 Wilder’d and tossing through distemper’d dreams j 
 Who would in such a gloomy state remain 
 Longer than Nature craves j when every Muse 
 And eveiy blooming pleasure wait without. 
 
 To bless the wildly-devious morning w alk ? 80 
 
 But yonder comes the powerful King of Day, 
 Rejoicing in the East. The lessening cloud, 
 
 , The kindling azure, and the mountain’s brow 
 Illum’d with fluid gold, his near approach 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 107 
 
 Betoken glad. Lo ! now^ apparent all, 85 
 
 Aslant the dew-bright earth, and colour’d air. 
 
 He looks in boundless majesty abroad 3 
 And sheds the shining day, that burnish’d plays 
 On rocks, and hills, and tow’rs, and wand’ring streams. 
 High-gleaming from afar. Prime cheerer. Light ! 90 
 Of all material beings first, and best ! 
 
 Efflux divine ! Nature’s resplendent robe ! 
 
 Without whose vesting beauty all were wrapt 
 In unessential gloom 3 and thou, O Sun ! 
 
 Soul of surrounding worlds ! in whom best seen 95 
 Shines out thy Maker ! may I sing of thee? 
 
 ’Tis by thy secret, strong, attractive force. 
 
 As with a chain indissoluble bound. 
 
 Thy System rolls entire : from the far bourne 
 Of utmost Saturn, wheeling wide his round 100 
 
 Of thirty years 3 to Mercury, whose disk 
 Can scarce be caught by philosophic eye. 
 
 Lost in the near effulgence of thy blaze. 
 
 Informer of the planetaiy train ! 
 
 Without whose quickening glance their cumbrous orbs 
 Were brute unlovely mass, inert and dead 3 
 And not, as now, the green abodes of life ! 
 
108 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 The Sun’s Power on Vegetables. 
 
 How many forms of being wait on thee. 
 
 Inhaling spirit ! from th’ unfetter’d mind. 
 
 By thee sublim’d, down to the daily race, 1 10 
 
 The mixing myriads of thy setting beam. 
 
 The vegetable world is also thine. 
 
 Parent of Seasons ! who the pomp precede 
 That waits thy throne 3 as through thy vast domain. 
 Annual, along the bright ecliptic road, 115 
 
 In world-rejoicing state, it moves sublime. 
 
 Meantime th’ expecting nations, circled gay. 
 
 With all the various tribes of foodful earth. 
 
 Implore thy bounty, or send grateful up 
 A common hymn : while, round thy beaming car, 120 
 High-seen, the Seasons lead, in sprightly dance 
 Harmonious knit, the rosy-finger’d Hours j 
 The Zephyrs floating loose 3 the timely Rains 3 
 Of bloom ethereal the light-footed Dews 3 
 And softened into joy the surly Storms. 125 
 
 These, in successive turn, with lavish hand. 
 
 Shower every beauty, every fragrance shower. 
 
 Herbs, flowers, and fruits : till, kindling at thy touch. 
 From land to land is flush’d the vernal year. 
 
 Nor to the surface of enlivened earth, ISO 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 109 
 
 The Sun’e Power on Minerals. 
 
 Graceful with hills and dales_, and leafy woods. 
 
 Her liberal tresses, is thy force confin’d : 
 
 But, to the bowel’d cavern darting deep. 
 
 The mineral kinds confess thy mighty power. 
 Effulgent, hence, the veiny marble shines j 135 
 
 Hence Labour draws his tools 5 hence burnish’d War 
 Gleams on the day 3 the nobler works of Peace 
 Hence bless mankind 3 and generous Commerce binds 
 The round of nations in a golden chain. 
 
 Th’ unfruitful rock itself, impregn’d by thee, 140 
 In dark retirement forms the lucid stone. 
 
 The lively Diamond drinks thy purest rays. 
 
 Collected light, compact 3 that, polish’d bright. 
 
 And all its native lustre let abroad. 
 
 Dares, as it sparkles on the fair-one’s breast, 145 
 With vain ambition emulate her eyes. 
 
 At thee the Ruby lights its deepening glow. 
 
 And with a waving radiance inward flames. 
 
 From thee the Sapphire, solid ether, takes 
 
 Its hue cemlean 3 and of evening tinct, 150 
 
 The purple-streaming Amethyst is thine. 
 
 With thy own smile the yellow Topaz burns. 
 
 Nor deeper verdure dies the robe of Spring, 
 
110 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 The Sun’i Power on Minerals. 
 
 When first she gives it to the southern gale. 
 
 Than the green Emerald shows. But, all combin’d. 
 Thick through the whitening Opal play thy beams j 
 Or, flying several from its surface, form , 
 
 A trembling variance of revolving hues. 
 
 As the site varies in the gazer’s hand. 
 
 The very dead creation, from thy touch, i 6 o 
 
 Assumes a mimic life. By thee refin’d. 
 
 In brighter mazes the relucent stream 
 Plays o’er the mead. The precipice abrupt. 
 
 Projecting horror on the blackened flood. 
 
 Softens at thy return. The desert joys, ]g5 
 
 Wildly, through all his melancholy bounds. 
 
 Rude ruins glitter j 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, 170 
 And all the much-transported Muse can sing. 
 
 Are to thy beauty, dignity, and use. 
 
 Unequal far 5 great delegated source 
 Of light, and life, and grace, and joy below ! 
 
 How shall I then attempt to sing of Him ! 175 
 
 Who, Light Himself, in uncreated light 
 
 / 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 Ill 
 
 The Supreme Being described. 
 
 Invested deep, dwells awfully retir’d 
 From mortal eye, or angel’s purer ken j 
 Whose single smile has, from the first of time. 
 
 Fill’d, overflowing, all those lamps of Heaven, 180 
 That beam for ever through the boundless sky : 
 
 But, should he hide his face, th’ astonish’d sun. 
 
 And all th’ extinguish’d stars, would loosening reel 
 Wide from their spheres, and Chaos come again. 
 
 And yet was every faultering tongue of Man, 185 
 Almighty Father ! silent in thy praise; 
 
 ,Thy works themselves would raise a general voice. 
 Even in the depth of solitary woods 
 By human foot untrod ; proclaim thy power. 
 
 And to the quire celestial Thee resound, 190 
 
 Th’ eternal cause, support, and end of all. 
 
 To me be Nature’s volume broad-display’d ; 
 
 And to peruse its all-instructing page. 
 
 Or, haply catching inspiration thence. 
 
 Some easy passage, raptur’d, to translate, 195 
 
 My sole delight ; as through the falling glooms 
 Pensive I stray, or with the rising dawn 
 On Fancy’s eagle-wing excursive soar. 
 
 Now, flaming up the heavens, the potent sun 
 
112 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 EflTects of the Sun on the Works of Nature. 
 
 Melts into limpid air the high-rais’d clouds, 200 
 And morning fogs, that hover’d round the hills 
 In party-colour’d bands j till wide unveil’d 
 The face of Nature shines, from where earth seems, 
 Far-stretch’d around, to meet the bending sphere. 
 
 Half in a blush of dust’ ring roses lost, 205 
 
 Dew-dropping Coolness to the shade retires 5 
 There, on the verdant turf, or flowery bed. 
 
 By gelid founts and careless rills to muse 5 
 While tyrant Heat, dispreading through the sky. 
 
 With rapid sway, his burning influence darts 210 
 On Man, and beast, and herb, and tepid stream. 
 
 Who can unpitying see the flowery race. 
 
 Shed by the morn, their new-flush’d bloom resign. 
 Before the parching beam ? So fade the fair. 
 
 When fevers revel through their azure veins. 215 
 But one, the lofty follower of the sun. 
 
 Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves. 
 
 Drooping all night j and, when he warm returns. 
 Points her enamour’d bosom to his ray. 
 
 Home, from his morning task, the swain retreats , 
 His flock before him stepping to the fold : 
 
 WTiile the full-udder’d mother lows around 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 113 
 
 Effects of the Sun on the Works of Nature. 
 
 The cheerful cottage, then expecting food. 
 
 The food of innocence, and health ! The daw. 
 
 The rook, and magpie, to the grey-grown oaks 225 
 That the calm village in their verdant arms. 
 Sheltering, embrace, direct their lazy flight ; 
 
 Where on the mingling boughs they sit embower’d. 
 All the hot noon, till cooler hours arise. 
 
 Faint, underneath, the household fowls convene 3 230 
 And, in a corner of the buzzing shade. 
 
 The house-dog, with the vacant greyhound, lies, 
 
 Out-stretch’d, and sleepy. In his slumbers one 
 
 Attacks the nightly thief, and one exults 
 
 O’er hill and dale 3 till, wakened by the wasp, 235 
 
 They starting snap. Nor shall the Muse disdain 
 
 To let the little noisy summer-race 
 
 Live in her lay, and flutter through her song : 
 
 Not mean though simple 3 to the sun ally’d. 
 
 From him they draw their animating fire. 240 
 
 Wak’d by his warmer ray, the reptile young 
 Come wing’d abroad 3 by the light air upborne. 
 Lighter, and full of soul. From every chink. 
 
 And secret corner, where they slept away 
 
 The wintry storms 3 or rising from their tombs, 245 
 
 H 
 
114 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Summer Insects. 
 
 To higher life j by myriads, forth at once. 
 
 Swarming they pour ; of all the vary’d hues 
 Their beauty- beaming parent can disclose. 
 
 Ten thousand forms ! ten thousand different tribes! 
 People the blaze. To sunny waters some 250 
 
 By fatal instinct fly 3 where on the pool 
 They, sportive, wheel ; or, sailing down the stream. 
 Are snatch’d immediate by the quick-ey’d trout. 
 
 Or darting salmon.' Through the green-wood glade 
 Some love to stray •, there lodg’d, amus’d and fed, 255 
 In the fresh leaf. Luxurious, others make 
 The meads their choice, and visit every flower. 
 
 And every latent herb ; for the sweet task. 
 
 To propagate their kinds, and where to wrap. 
 
 In what soft beds, their young yet undisclos’d, 260 
 Employs their tender care. Some to the house. 
 
 The fold, and dairy, hungry, bend their flight ; 
 
 Sip round the pail, or taste the curdling cheese : 
 
 Oft, inadvertent, from the milky stream 
 
 They meet their fate j or, weltering in the bowl, 265 
 
 With powerless wings around them wrapt, expire. 
 
 But chief to heedless flies the window proves 
 A constant death 3 where, gloomily retir’d. 
 
summer; 
 
 -115 
 
 Summer insects. 
 
 
 
 The villain spider lives, cunning, and fierce. 
 
 Mixture abhorr’d ! Amid a mangled heap 270 
 
 Of carcasses, in eager watch he sits, 
 
 O’eiiooking all his waving snares around. 
 
 Near the dire cell the dreadless wanderer oft 
 
 Passes, as oft the ruffian shows his front 5 
 
 The prey at last ensnar’d, he dreadful darts, 275 
 
 With rapid glide, along the leaning line j 
 
 And, fixing in the wretch his cruel fangs. 
 
 Strikes backward grimly pleas’d : the fluttering wing. 
 And shriller sound, declare extreme distress. 
 
 And ask the helping hospitable hand. 280 
 
 Resounds the living surface of the ground : 
 
 Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hum, 
 
 ' To him who muses through the woods at noon 3 
 Or drowsy shepherd, as he lies reclin’d. 
 
 With half-shut eyes, beneath the floating shade 285 
 Of willows grey, close-crowding o’er the brook. 
 
 Gradual, from these what numerous kinds descend. 
 Evading ev’n the microscopic eye ! 
 
 Full nature swarms with life 3 one wondrous mass 
 Of animals, or atoms organiz’d, 290 
 
 Waiting the vital Breath, when Parent Heaven 
 
116 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Summer Insects. 
 
 Shall bid his spirit blow. The hoary fen. 
 
 In putrid steams, emits the living cloud 
 Of pestilence. Through subterranean cells. 
 
 Where searching sun-beams scarce can find a way, 295 
 Earth animated heaves. The flowery leaf 
 Wants not its soft inhabitants. Secure, 
 
 Within its winding citadel, the stone 
 
 Holds multitudes. But chief the forest-boughs. 
 
 That dance unnumber’d to the playful breeze j 300 
 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. 305 
 
 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, 310 
 
 Void of their unseen people. These, conceal’d 
 By the kind art of forming Heaven, escape 
 The grosser eye of Man : for, if the worlds 
 In worlds inclos’d should on his senses burst. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 117 
 
 Summer ln»ecU. 
 
 From cates ambrosial and the nectar’d bowl^ 315 
 He would abhorrent turn 3 and in dead night. 
 
 When silence sleeps o’er all, be stunn’d with noise. 
 
 Let no presuming impious railer tax 
 Creative Wisdom, as if aught was form’d 
 In vain, or not for admirable ends. 320 
 
 Shall little haughty ignorance pronounce 
 His works unwise, of which the smallest part 
 Exceeds the narrow vision of her mind ? 
 
 As if upon a full-proportion’d dome. 
 
 On swelling columns heav’d, the pride of art ! 325 
 
 A critic-fly, whose feeble ray scarce spreads 
 An inch around, with blind presumption bold. 
 
 Should dare to tax the structure of the whole. 
 
 And lives the Man, whose universal eye 
 
 Has swept at once th’ unbounded scheme of things 3 
 
 Mark’d their dependance so, and firm accord. 
 
 As with unfaultering accent to conclude 
 That this availeth nought ? Has any seen 
 The mighty chain of beings, lessening down 
 From Infinite Perfection to the brink 335 
 
 Of dreary Nothing, desolate abyss ! 
 
 From which astonish’d thought, recoiling, turns ? 
 

 
 Hay-making. 
 
 ^ ^ * 
 
 
 Till then alone let zealous praise ascend. 
 
 And hymns of holy wonder, to that Power, 
 
 Whose wisdom shines as lovely on our minds, 340 
 As on our smiling eyes his servant-sun. 
 
 Thick in yon stream of light, a thousand ways. 
 Upward, and downward, thwarting, and convolv’d. 
 The cpiivering nations sport ; till, tempest-wing’d. 
 Fierce Winter sweeps them from the face of day. 345 
 Ev’n so luxurious Men, unheeding, pass 
 An idle summer life in fortune’s shine 
 A season’s glitter ! Thus they flutter on 
 From toy to toy, from vanity to vice^ 
 
 Till, blown away by death, oblivion comes 350 
 
 Behind, and strikes them from the book of life. 
 
 Now swarms the village o’er the jovial mead : 
 
 The rustic youth, brown with meridian toil. 
 
 Healthful and strong j full as the summer-rose 
 Blown by prevailing suns, the ruddy maid, 355 
 
 Half-naked, swelling on the sight, and all 
 Her kindled graees burning o’er her cheek. 
 
 Even stooping age is here 3 and infant-hands 
 Trail the long rake, or with the fragrant load 
 O ercharg d, amid the kind oppression roll. 
 
 360 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 119 
 
 Flock of Sheep. 
 
 Wide flies the tedded grain 3 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, 365 
 And drive the dusky wave along the mead. 
 
 The russet hay-cock rises thick behind. 
 
 In order gay. While heard from dale to dale. 
 
 Waking the breeze, resounds the blended voice 
 Of happy labour, love, and social glee. 370 
 
 Or rushing thence, in one diffusive band. 
 
 They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog 
 Compell’d, to where the mazy-running brook 
 Forms a deep pool 3 this bank abrupt and high. 
 
 And that fair-spreading in a pebbled shore. 375 
 
 Urg’d to the giddy brink, much is the toil. 
 
 The clamour much, of men, and boys, and dogs. 
 
 Ere the soft fearful people to the flood 
 Commit their woolly sides. And oft the swain, 
 
 On some impatient seizing, hurls them in : 380 
 
 Embolden’d then, nor hesitating more. 
 
 Fast, fast, they plunge amid the flashing wave. 
 
 And panting labour to the farthest shore. 
 
120 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Sheepnhearing. 
 
 Repeated this, till deep the well-vvash’d fleece 
 
 Has drunk the flood, and from his lively haunt 385 
 
 The trout is banish’d by the sordid stream j 
 
 Heavy, and dripping, to the breezy brow 
 
 Slow move the harmless race ; where, as they spread 
 
 Their swelling treasures to the sunny ray. 
 
 Inly disturb’d, and wondering what this wild 390 
 Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints 
 'fhe country fill ■ and, toss’d from rock to rock. 
 Incessant bleatings run around the hills. 
 
 At last, of snowy white, the gathered flocks 
 Are in the wattled pen innumerous press’d, 395 
 
 Head above head : and rang’d in lusty rows 
 The shepherds sit, and whet the sounding shears. 
 
 The housewife waits to roll her fleecy stores. 
 
 With all her gay-drest maids attending round. 
 
 One, chief, in gracious dignity enthron’d, 400 
 
 Shines o’er the rest, the past’ral queen, and rays 
 Her smiles, sweet-beaming, on her shepherd-king j 
 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: 405 
 
 Some mingling stir the melted tar, and some. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 121 
 
 Sh«epshearing, 
 
 Deep on the new-shorn vagrant’s heaving side. 
 To stamp his master’s cipher ready stand 3 
 Others th’ unwilling wether drag along j 
 And, glorying in his might, the sturdy boy 
 Holds by th’ twisted horns th’ indignant ram. 
 Behold where bound, and of its robe bereft. 
 
 By needy Man, that all-depending lord. 
 
 How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies ! 
 What softness in its melancholy face. 
 
 What dumb complaining innocence appears ! 
 Fear not, ye gentle tribes, ’t is not the knife 
 
 410 
 
 415 
 
 Of horrid slaughter that is o’er you wav’d 5 
 No, ’t is the tender swain’s well-guided shears. 
 
 Who having now, to pay his annual care, 420 
 
 Borrow’d your fleece, to you a cumbrous load. 
 
 Will send you bounding to your hills again. 
 
 A simple scene ! yet hence Britannia sees 
 Her solid grandeur rise : hence she commands 
 Th’ exalted stores of every brighter clime, 425 
 
 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, ev’n now. 
 

 122 .SUMMER. 
 
 Impending hangs o’er Gallia’s humbled coast ; 43o 
 
 Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world. 
 
 ’Tis raging Noon j and, vertical, the Sun 
 Darts on the head direct his forcefiil rays. 
 
 O er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye 
 
 Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns j and all 435 
 
 From pole to pole is undistinguish’d blaze. 
 
 In vain the sight, dejected to the ground. 
 
 Stoops for relief ; thence hot ascending steams 
 And keen reflection pain.’ Deep to the root 
 Of ^'egetation parch’d, the cleaving fields 440 
 
 And slippery lawn an arid hue disclose •, 
 
 Blast Fancy’s bloom, and wither ev’n the soul. 
 
 Echo no more returns the cheerful sound 
 Of sharpening scythe : the mower sinking heaps 
 O’er him the humid hay, with flowers perfum’d j 445 
 And scarce a chirping grasshopper is heard 
 Through the dumb mead. Distressful Nature pants. 
 The very streams look languid from afar 3 
 Or, through th’ unshelter’d glade, impatient seem 
 To hurl into the covert of the grove. 450 
 
 All-conquering Heat ! oh intermit thy wrath 3 
 And on my throbbing temples potent thus 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 123 
 
 Noon-Day Heat described. 
 
 Beam not so fierce. Incessant still you flow. 
 
 And still another fervent flood succeeds. 
 
 Pour’d on the head profuse. In vain I sigh, 455 
 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-crown’d. 
 
 Beneath the whole collected shade reclines j 460 
 Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought. 
 
 And fresh-bedew’d with ever-spouting streams. 
 
 Sits coolly calm •, while all the world without. 
 Unsatisfied, and sick, tosses in noon. 
 
 Emblem instructive of the virtuous Man, 465 
 
 Who keeps his temper’d mind serene, and pure j 
 And every passion aptly harmoniz’d. 
 
 Amid a jarring world with viee inflam’d. 
 
 Welcome, ye shades ! ye bowery thickets hail ! 
 
 \ e lofty pines ! ye venerable oaks ! 470 
 
 Ye ashes wild, resounding o’er the steep ! 
 
 Delicious is your shelter to the soul. 
 
 As to the hunted hart the sallying spring. 
 
 Or stream full-flowing, that his swelling sides 
 Laves, as he floats along the herbag’d brink. 
 
 475 
 
124 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Shepherd and his Flock. 
 
 Cool, through the nerves, your pleasing comfort glides; 
 The heart beats glad ^ the fresh-expanded eye 
 And ear resume their watch j the sinews knit ; 
 
 And life shoots swift through all the hghtened limbs. 
 
 Around th’ adjoining brook, that purls along 480 
 The vocal grove, now fretting o’er a rock. 
 
 Now scarcely moving through a reedy pool. 
 
 Now starting to a sudden stream, and now 
 Gently diffus’d' into a limpid plain ,• 
 
 A various group the herds and flocks compose, 485 
 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 
 1 he strong laborious ox, of honest front, 490 
 
 Which incompos’d he shakes ; and from his sides 
 The troubbus insects lashes with his tail. 
 
 Returning stiU. Amid his subjects safe. 
 
 Slumbers the monarch-swain ; his careless arm 
 Thrown round his head, on downy moss sustain’d j 495 
 Here laid his scrip, with wholesome viands fill’d ; 
 There, listening every noise, his watchful dog. 
 
 Light fly his slumbers, if perchance a flight 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 125 
 
 A solemn Grove described. 
 
 Of angTy gad-flies fasten on the herd j 
 
 That startling scatters from the shallow brook, 500 
 
 In search of lavish stream. Tossing the foam. 
 
 They scorn the keepers voice, and scour the plain. 
 Through all the bright severity of noon j 
 While, from their labouring breasts, a hollow moan 
 Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills. 505 
 Oft in this season too the horse, provok’d. 
 
 While his big sinews full of spirits swell j 
 Trembling with vigour, in the heat of blood. 
 
 Springs the high fence j and, o’er the field effus’d. 
 Darts on the gloomy flood, with stedfast eye, 510 
 And heart estrang’d to fear : his nervous chest. 
 Luxuriant, and erect, the seat of strength. 
 
 Bears down th’ opposing stream : quenchless his thirst; 
 He takes the river at redoubled draughts ; 
 
 And with wide nostrils, snorting, skims the wave. 515 
 Still let me pierce into the midnight depth 
 Of yonder grove, of wildest largest growth : 
 
 'fhat, forming high in air a woodland quire. 
 
 Nods o’er the mount beneath. At every step. 
 
 Solemn, and slow, the shadows blacker fall, 520 
 And all is awful listening gloom around. 
 
126 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 A solemn Grove described. 
 
 ' 1 . hese are the haunts of Meditation j these 
 The scenes where ancient bards th’ inspiring. breath. 
 Ecstatic, felt 3 and, from this world retir’d. 
 
 Convers’d with angels, and immortal forms, 525 
 On gracious errands bent : to save the fall 
 Of virtue struggling on the brink of vice 3 
 In waking whispers, and repeated dreams. 
 
 To hint pure thought, and warn the favour’d soul 
 For future trials fated to prepare 3 53Q 
 
 To prompt the poet, who devoted gives 
 His muse to better themes 3 to sooth the pangs 
 Of dying worth, and from the patriot’s breast 
 (Backward to mingle in detested war. 
 
 But foremost when engag’d) to turn the death; 535 
 And numberless such offices of love. 
 
 Daily, and nightly, zealous to perform. 
 
 Shook sudden from the bosom of the sky, 
 
 A thousand shapes or glide athwart the dusk. 
 
 Or stalk majestic on. Deep-rous’d, I feel 540 
 
 A sacred terror, a severe delight, . 
 
 Creep through my mortal frame 3 and thus, methinks, 
 A voice, tlian human more, th’ abstracted ear 
 Of fancy strikes. Be not of us afraid. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 127 
 
 A solemn Grove described. 
 
 
 fC 
 
 i< 
 
 cc 
 
 €< 
 
 €< 
 
 i( 
 
 “ Poor kindred Man ! thy fellow-creatures, we 545 
 From the same Parent-Power our beings drew. 
 The same our Lord, and laws, and great pursuit. 
 Once some of us, like thee, through stormy life. 
 Toil’d, tempest-beaten, ere we could attain 
 This holy calm, this harmony of mind, 550 
 
 Where purity and peace immingle charms. 
 
 Then fear not us 3 but with responsive song, 
 
 Amid these dim recesses, undisturb’d 
 By noisy folly and discordant vice, 
 
 "" Of Nature sing with us, and Nature’s God. 555 
 Here frequent, at the visionary hour. 
 
 When musing midnight reigns or silent noon. 
 Angelic harps are in full concert heard, 
 
 And voices chaunting from the wood-crown’d hill. 
 The deepening dale,- or inmost sylvan glade : 560 
 
 A privilege bestow’d by us, alone. 
 
 On contemplation, or the hallow’d ear 
 Of Poet, swelling to seraphic strains.” 
 
 And art thou, Stanley, of that sacred band ? 
 
 Alas, for us too soon ! Though rais’d above 665 
 The reach of human pain, above the flight 
 Of human joy 3 yet, with a mingled ray 
 
 
 (t 
 
 (C 
 
 te 
 
 te 
 
 
 
 It 
 
128 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Of sadly-pleas’d remembrance, must thou feel 
 A mother s love, a mother’s tender woe : 
 
 Who seeks thee still, in many a former scene 570 
 Seeks thy fair form, thy lovely-beaming eyes. 
 
 Thy pleasing converse, by gay lively sense 
 Inspir’d : where moral wisdom mildly shone. 
 
 Without the toil of ai*t 3 and virtue glow’d. 
 
 In all her smiles, without forbidding pride. 675 
 
 But, O thou best of parents ! wipe thy tears 3 
 Or rather to Parental Nature pay 
 The tears of grateful joy 3 who for a while 
 Lent thee this younger self, this opening bloom 
 Of thy enlightened mind and gentle worth. 680 
 Believe the Muse : the wintry blast of death 
 Kills not the buds of virtue 3 no, they spread. 
 
 Beneath the heavenly beam of brighter suns. 
 
 Through endless ages, into higher powers. 
 
 Thus up the mount, in airy vision rapt, 585 
 
 I stray, regardless whither 3 till the sound 
 Of a near fall of water every sense 
 Wakes from the charm of thought : swift-shrinking back, 
 
 I check my steps, and view the broken scene. 
 
 Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood 590 
 
A Waterfall described. 
 
 Rolls fair, and placid j where collected all. 
 
 In one impetuous torrent, down the steep 
 It thundering shoots, and shakes the country round. 
 At first, an azure sheet, it rushes broad 
 Then whitening by degrees, as prone it falls, 595 
 And from the loud-resounding rocks below 
 Dash’d in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft 
 A hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless shower. 
 
 Nor can the tortur’d wave here find repose j 
 But, raging still amid the shaggy rocks, 600 
 
 Now flashes o’er the scatter’d fragments, now 
 Aslant the hollowed channel rapid darts j 
 And falling fast from gradual slope to slope. 
 
 With wild infracted course, and lessened roar. 
 
 It gains a safer bed and steals, at last, 605 
 
 Along the mazes of the quiet vale. 
 
 Invited from the cliff, to whose dark brow 
 He clings, the steep-ascending eagle soars. 
 
 With upward pinions through the flood of day j 
 And, giving full his bosom to the blaze, 610 
 
 Gains on the sun j while all the tuneful race, 
 
 Smit by afflictive noon, disorder’d droop. 
 
 Deep in the thicket j or, from bower to bower 
 
 I 
 

 130 S U M M E R. 
 
 The Torrid Zone described. 
 
 
 Responsive, force an interrupted strain. 
 
 The stock-dove only through the forest cooes, 615 
 Mournfully hoarse ; oft ceasing from his plaint ^ 
 
 Short interval of weaiy woe ! again 
 The sad idea of his murder’d mate. 
 
 Struck from his side by savage fowler’s guile. 
 
 Across his fancy comes ; and then resounds 620 
 A louder song of sorrow through the grove. 
 
 Beside the dewy border let me sit. 
 
 All in the freshness of the humid air ; 
 
 There in that hollow’d rock, grotesque and wild. 
 
 An ample chair moss-lin’d, and over head 625 
 
 By flowering umbrage shaded ; where the bee 
 Strays diligent, and with th’ extracted balm 
 Of fragrant woodbine loads his little thigh. 
 
 Now, while I taste the sweetness of the shade. 
 
 While Nature lies around deep-lull’d in Noon, 630 
 Now come, bold Fancy, spread a daring flight. 
 
 And view the wonders of the Torrid Zone : 
 
 Climes unrelenting ! with whose rage compar’d. 
 
 Yon blaze is feeble, and yon skies are cool. 
 
 See, how at once the bright-effulgent sun, 655 
 Rising direct, swift chases from the sky 
 
 / 
 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 131 
 
 The short-liv’d twilight and with ardent blaze 
 Looks gaily fierce through all the dazzling air 
 He mounts his throne ; but kind before him sends, 
 
 Issuing from out the portals of the morn. 
 
 640 
 
 The general breeze, to mitigate his fire. 
 
 And breathe refreshment on a fainting world. 
 
 Great are the scenes, with dreadful beauty crown’d 
 And barbarous wealth, that see, each circling year. 
 
 Returning suns and double seasons pass : 
 
 645 
 
 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 5 650 
 
 Or to the far horizon wide diffus’d, 
 
 A boundless deep immensity of shade. 
 
 Here lofty trees, to ancient song unknown 3 
 The noble sons of potent heat and floods. 
 Prone-rushing from the clouds, rear high to Heaven 
 Their thorny stems 3 and broad around them throw 
 Meridian, gloom. Here, in eternal prime. 
 Unnumber’d fruits, of keen delicious taste 
 And vital spirit, drink amid the cliffs. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 IS-2 
 
 And burning sands that bank the shrubby vales, 660 
 Redoubled day 3 yet in their rugged coats 
 A friendly juice to cool its rage contain. 
 
 Bear me, Pomona ! to thy citron groves 5 
 To where the lemon and the piercing lime. 
 
 With the deep orange, glowing through the green, 665 
 Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclin’d 
 Beneath the spreading tamarind that shakes, 
 
 Fann’d by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit. 
 
 Deep in the night the massy locust sheds, 
 
 Quench my hot limbs 3 or lead me through the maze. 
 Embowering endless, of the Indian fig 3 
 Or thrown at gayer ease, on some fair brow. 
 
 Let me behold, by breezy murmurs cool’d. 
 
 Broad o’er my head the verdant cedar wave. 
 
 And high palmetos lift their graceful shade. 6T5 
 Or stretch’d amid these orchards of the sun. 
 
 Give me to drain the cocoa’s milky bowl. 
 
 And from the palm to draw its freshening wine 3 
 More bounteous far, than all the frantic juice 
 Which Bacchus pours. Nor, on its slender twigs 680 
 Low-bending, be the full pomegranate scorn’d 3 
 Nor, creeping through the woods, the gelid race 
 
SUMMER. 133 
 
 Of berries. Oft in humble station dwells 
 Unboastful worth, above fastidious pomp. 
 
 Witness, thou best AnAna ! thou the pride 685 
 
 Of vegetable life, beyond whate’er 
 The poets imag’d in 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 690 
 Lie stretch’d below, interminable meeds. 
 
 And vast savannahs, where the wandering eye, 
 
 Unfixt, is in a verdant ocean lost. 
 
 Another Flora there, of bolder hues. 
 
 And richer sweets, beyond our garden’s pride, 695 
 Plays o’er the fields, and showers with sudden hand 
 Exuberant spring : for oft these valleys shift 
 Their green-embroider’d robe to fiery brown. 
 
 And swift to green again, as scorching suns. 
 
 Or streaming dews and torrent rains, prevail. 700 
 
 Along these lonely regions, where retir’d 
 From little scenes of art, great Nature dwells 
 In awful solitude 3 and nought is seen 
 But the wild herds that own no master’s stall 3 
 Prodigious rivers roll their fattening seas 3 705 
 
134 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Various Animals described. 
 
 
 
 
 715 
 
 On whose luxuriant herbage, half-conceal’cl. 
 
 Like a fall’n cedar, far-difFus’d his train. 
 
 Cas’d in green scales, the crocodile extends. 
 
 The flood disparts : behold ! in plaited mail. 
 Behemoth rears his head. Glanc’d from his side, 710 
 The darted steel in idle shivers flies : 
 
 He fearless walks the plain, or seeks the hills j 
 Where, as he crops his varied fare, the herds. 
 
 In widening circle round, forget their food. 
 
 And at the harmless stranger wondering gaze. 
 
 Peaceful, beneath primeval trees, that cast 
 Their ample shade o’er Niger’s yellow stream. 
 
 And where the Ganges rolls his sacred wave ; 
 
 Or mid the central depth of blackening woods, 
 High-rais’d in solemn theatre around. 
 
 Leans the huge elephant : wisest of brutes ! 
 
 O tmly wise! with gentle might endow’d 3 
 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 j 
 
 720 
 
 725 
 
 
 
S U M M E R. 
 
 135 
 
 
 invocation. 
 
 
 
 Or with his towery grandeur swell their state^ 
 
 The pride of kings ! or else his strength pervert, 730 
 And bid him rage amid the mortal fray. 
 
 Astonish’d at the madness of mankind. 
 
 Wide o’er the winding umbrage of the floods. 
 
 Like vivid blossoms glowing from afar. 
 
 Thick-swarm the brighter birds. For Nature’s hand. 
 That with a sportive vanity has deck’d 
 The plumy nations, there her gayest hues 
 Profusely pours. But, if she bids them shine. 
 
 Array’d in all the beauteous beams of day. 
 
 Yet frugal still, she humbles them in song. 740 
 
 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 3 while in our shades. 
 
 Through the soft silence of the listening night, 745 
 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 3 ardent climb 750 
 The Nubian mountains, and the secret bounds 
 
1S6 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 
 luvocation rontinued. 
 
 
 Of jealous Abyssinia boldly pierce. 
 
 Thou art no ruffian, who beneath the mask 
 Of social commerce com’st to rob their wealth 3 
 
 No holy Fury thou, blaspheming Heaven, 755 
 
 With consecrated steel to stab their peace. 
 
 And through the land, yet red from civil wounds. 
 
 To spread the purple tyranny of Rome. 
 
 Thou, like the harmless bee, may’st freely range. 
 From mead to mead bright with exalted flowers 3 760 
 
 From jasmine grove to grove, mays’t wander gay 3 
 Through palmy shades and aromatic woods. 
 
 That grace the plains, invest the peopled hills. 
 
 And up the more than Alpine mountains wave. 
 
 There on the breezy summit, spreading fair, 765 
 For many a league 3 or on stupendous rocks. 
 
 That from the sun-redoubling valley lift. 
 
 Cool to the middle air, their lawny tops 3 
 Where palaces, and fanes, and villas rise 3 
 And gardens smile around, and cultur’d fields 3 770 
 
 And fountains gush 3 and careless herds and flocks 
 Securely stray 3 a world within itself. 
 
 Disdaining all assault : there let me draw 
 Ethereal soul 3 there drink reviving gales. 
 
 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 Profusely breathing from the spicy groves, 775 
 
 And vales of fragrance j there at distance hear 
 The roaring floods, and cataracts, that sweep 
 From disembowel’d earth the virgin gold; 
 
 And o’er the varied landskip, restless, rove. 
 
 Fervent with life of every fairer kind; 7SO 
 
 A land of wonders ! which the sun still eyes 
 With ray direct, as of the lovely realm 
 Enamour’d, and delighting there to dwell. 
 
 How chang’d the scene ! In blazing height of noon. 
 The sun, oppress’d, is plung’d in thickest gloom. 785 
 Still Horror reigns ! a dreary twilight round. 
 
 Of struggling night and day malignant mix’d ! 
 
 For to the hot equator crowding fast. 
 
 Where, highly rarefy’d, the yielding air 
 
 Admits their stream, incessant vapours roU, 790 
 
 Amazing clouds on clouds continual heap’d ; 
 
 Or whirl’d tempestuous by the gusty wind. 
 
 Or silent borne along, heavy, and slow. 
 
 With the big stores of steaming oceans charg’d. 
 Meantime, amid these upper seas, condens’d 795 
 Around the cold aerial mountain’s brow. 
 
138 
 
 SUMMER 
 
 -r r ^ ^ 
 
 
 And by conflicting winds together dash’d. 
 
 The Thunder holds his black tremendous throne : 
 From cloud to cloud the rending Lightnings rage 3 
 Till, in the furious elemental war 300 
 
 Dissolv’d, the whole precipitated mass 
 Unbroken floods and solid torrents pours.. 
 
 The treasures these, hid from the bounded search 
 Of ancient knowledge 3 whence, with annual pomp. 
 Rich king of floods ! o’erflows the swelling Nile. 805 
 From his two springs, in Gojam’s sunny realm, 
 Pure-welling out, he through the lucid lake 
 Of fair Dambea rolls his infant-stream. 
 
 There, by the Naiads nurs’d, he sports away 
 
 His playful youth, amid the fragrant isles, 810 
 
 That with unfading verdure smile around. 
 
 Ambitious, thence the manly river breaks j 
 And gathering many a flood, and copious fed 
 With all the mellowed treasures of the sky. 
 
 Winds in progressive majesty along: 815 
 
 Through splendid kingdoms now devolves his maze; 
 Now wanders wild o’er solitary tracts 
 Of life-deserted sand ; till, glad to quit 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 139 
 
 r-4 
 
 
 r- 
 
 The River Niger described. 
 
 ^ -r- 
 
 The joyless desert, down the Nubian rocks 
 
 From thundering steep to steep, he pours his urn, 820 
 
 And Egypt joys beneath the spreading wave. 
 
 His brother Niger too, and all the floods 
 In which the full-form’d maids^of Afric lave 
 Their jetty limbs j and all that from the tract 
 Of woody mountains stretch’d through gorgeous Ind 
 Fall on Cor’mandel’s coast, or Malabar; 
 
 From Menam’s orient stream, that nightly shines 
 With insect-lamps, to where Aurora sheds 
 On Indus’ smiling banks the rosy shower: 
 
 All, at this bounteous season, ope their urns, 830 
 And pour untoiling harvest o’er the land. 
 
 Nor less thy world, Columbus, drinks, refresh’d. 
 
 The lavish moisture of the melting year. 
 
 Wide o er his isles the branching Oronoque 
 
 Rolls a brown deluge ; and the native drives 835 
 
 To dwell aloft on life-sufficing trees; 
 
 At once his dome, his robe, his food, and arms. 
 
 SweU’d by a thousand streams, impetuous hurl’d 
 From all the roaring Andes, huge descends 
 The mighty Orellana. Scarce the Muse ’ 340 
 
 Dares stretch her wing o’er this enormous mass 
 
140 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Africa and its Inhabitants. 
 
 Of rushing water scarce she dares attempt 
 
 The sea-like Plata j to whose dread expanse^ 
 
 Continuous depth, and wondrous length of course. 
 
 Our floods are rills. With unabated force, 845 
 
 In silent dignity they sweep along j 
 
 And traverse realms unknown, and blooming wilds. 
 
 And fruitful deserts, worlds of solitude ! 
 
 Where the sun smiles and seasons teem in vain. 
 Unseen, and unenjoy’d. Forsaking these, 850 
 
 O’er peopled plains they fair-diffusive flow j 
 And many a nation feed j and circle safe. 
 
 In their soft bosom, many a happy isle j 
 The seat of blameless Pan, yet undisturb’d 
 By Christian crimes and Europe’s cruel sons. 855 
 Thus pouring on they proudly seek the deep. 
 
 Whose vanquish’d tide, recoiling from the shock. 
 Yields to this liquid weight of half the globe 
 And Ocean trembles for his green domain. 
 
 But what avails this wondrous waste of wealth ? 860 
 This gay profusion of luxurious bliss? 
 
 This pomp of Nature ? what their balmy meads. 
 
 Their powerful herbs, and Ceres void of pain ? 
 
 By vagrant birds dispers’d, and wafting winds. 
 

 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Africa cud its Inbabitaots. 
 
 141 
 
 What their unplanted fruits ? What the cool draughts^, 
 Th’ ambrosial food, rich gums, and spicy health. 
 
 Their forests yield ? Their toiling insects what ? 
 
 Their silky pride, and vegetable robes ? 
 
 Ah ! what avail their fatal treasures, hid 
 
 Deep in the bowels of the pitying earth, S70 
 
 Golconda’s gems, and sad Potosi’s mines j 
 
 Where dwelt the gentlest children of the sun? 
 
 What all that Afric’s golden rivers roll. 
 
 Her od’rous woods, and shining ivory stores ? 
 lU-fated race ! the softening arts of Peace j 875 
 
 Whate’er the humanizing Muses teach 3 
 The godlike wisdom of the temper’d breast j 
 Progressive truth 3 the patient force of thought 3 
 Investigation calm, whose silent powers 
 Command the world 3 the Light that leads to Heaven 3 
 Kind equal rule 3 the government of laws. 
 
 And all-protecting Freedom, which alone 
 Sustains the name and dignity of Man 3 
 These are not theirs. The parent-sun hi ms elf 
 Seems o er this world of slaves to tyrannize 3 885 
 
 And, with oppressive ray, the roseate bloom 
 Of beauty blasting, gives the gloomy hue. 
 
 -'1 
 
142 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Aniinals of the Desert. 
 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 And feature gross: or worse, to ruthless deeds. 
 
 Mad jealousy, blind rage, and fell revenge. 
 
 Their fervid spirit fires. Love dwells not there; 890 
 The soft regards, the tenderness of life. 
 
 The heart-shed tear, th’ ineffable delight 
 Of sweet humanity ; these court the beam 
 Of milder climes; in selfish fierce desire. 
 
 And the wild fury of voluptuous sense, 895 
 
 There lost. The very brute-creation there 
 
 This rage partakes, and burns with horrid fire. 
 
 Lo! the green serpent, from his dark abode. 
 
 Which ev’n Imagination fears to tread. 
 
 At noon forth-issuing, gathers up his train 900 
 
 In orbs immense ; then, darting out anew. 
 
 Seeks the refreshing fount; by which diffus’d. 
 
 He throws his folds : and while, with threat’ning tongue. 
 And deathful jaws erect, the monster curls 
 His flaming crest, all other thirst appall’d, 905 
 
 Or shivering flies, or check’d at distance stands. 
 
 Nor dares approach. But still more direful he. 
 
 The small close-lurking minister of Fate, 
 
 Whose high-concocted venom through the veins 
 A rapid lightning darts, arresting swift 910 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 145 
 
 Animals of the Desert. 
 
 
 The vital current. Form’d to humble man. 
 
 This child of vengeful Nature ! There, sublim’d 
 
 i 
 
 To fearless lust of blood, the savage race 
 Roam, licens’d by the shading hour of guilt. 
 
 And foul misdeed, when the pure day has shut 915 
 His sacred eye. The tiger darting fierce 
 Impetuous on the prey his glance has doom’d; 
 
 The lively-shining leopard, speckled o’er 
 With many a spot, the beauty of the waste; 
 
 And, scorning all the taming arts of Man, 920 
 
 The keen hyena, fellest of the fell : 
 
 These, rushing from th’ inhospitable woods 
 
 Of Mauritania, or the tufted isles. 
 
 That verdant rise amid the Libyan 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. Th’ awakened village starts; 
 And to her fluttering breast the mother strains 
 
■144 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 
 Her thoughtless infant. From the pirate’s den. 
 Or stern Morocco’s tyrant fang escap’d. 
 
 The wretch half- wishes for his bonds again : 
 While, uproar all, the wilderness resounds. 
 
 From Atlas eastward to the frighted Nile. 
 
 Unhappy he! who from the first of joys. 
 Society, cut off, is left alone 
 Amid this world of death. Hay after day. 
 
 Sad on the jutting eminence he sits. 
 
 And views the main that ever toils below j 
 Still fondly forming in the farthest verge. 
 
 Where the round ether mixes with the wave, 945 
 Ships, dim-discover d, dropping from the clouds; 
 
 At evening, to the setting sun he turns 
 A mournful eye, and down his dying heart 
 Sinks helpless 3 while the wonted roar is up. 
 
 And hiss continual through the tedious night. 950 
 Yet here, even here, into these black abodes 
 Of monsters, unappall’d, from stooping Rome, 
 
 And guilty Cjesar, Liberty retir’d. 
 
 Her Cato following through Numidian wilds : 
 Disdainful of Campania’s gentle plains, 955 
 
 And all the green delights Ausonia pours ; 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 14.5 
 
 
 A Hurricane described. 
 
 When for them she must bend the servile knee. 
 
 And fawning take the splendid robber’s boon. 
 
 Nor stop the terrors of these regions here. 
 Commission’d demons oft, angels of wrath! 960 
 
 Let loose the raging elements. Breath’d hot. 
 
 From all the boundless furnace of the sky. 
 
 And the wide glittering waste of burning sand, 
 
 A suffocating wind the pilgrim smites 
 
 With instant death. Patient of thirst and toil, 965 
 
 Son of the desert ! ev’n the camel feels. 
 
 Shot through his wither’d heart, the fiery blast. 
 
 Or from the black-red ether, bursting broad, 
 
 Sallies the sudden whirlwind. Strait the sands, 
 Commov’d around, in gathering eddies play; 970 
 Nearer and nearer still they darkening come; 
 
 Till, with the general all-involving storm 
 Swept up, the whole continuous wilds arise ; 
 
 And by their noon-day fount dejected thrown. 
 
 Or sunk at night in sad disastrous sleep, 975 
 
 Beneath descending hills, the caravan 
 Is buried deep. In Cairo|s crowded streets 
 Th’ impatient merchant, wondering, waits in vain. 
 
 And Mecca saddens at the long delay. 
 
 K 
 
146 
 
 S U M M E R. 
 
 
 A Hurricane described. 
 
 But chief at sea, whose every flexile wave 980 
 
 Obeys the blast, the aerial tumult swells. 
 
 In the dread ocean, undulating wide. 
 
 Beneath the radiant line that girts the globe. 
 
 The circling Typhon, whirl’d from point to point, 
 Exhausting all the rage of all the sky, 995 
 
 And dire Ecnephia reign. Amid the heavens. 
 
 Falsely serene, deep in a cloudy speck 
 
 Compress’d, the mighty tempest brooding dwells j 
 Of no regard, save to the skilful eye. 
 
 Fiery and foul, the small prognostic hangs 990 
 
 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 995 
 
 Of roaring winds, and flame, and rushing floods. 
 
 In wild amazement fix’d the sailor stands. 
 
 Ai t is too slow : by rapid Fate oppress’d. 
 
 His broad-wing’d vessel drinks the whelming tide. 
 
 Hid in the bosom of the black abyss. 1000 
 
 With such mad seas the daring Gama fought. 
 
 For many a day, and many a dreadful night. 
 
S U M M E R. 
 
 147 
 
 Incessant, lab’ring* round the stormy Cape; 
 
 By bold ambition led, and bolder thirst 
 
 Of gold. For then from ancient gloom emerg’d 1005 
 
 The rising world of trade j the Genius, then. 
 
 Of navigation, that, in hopeless sloth. 
 
 Had slumber’d on the vast Atlantic deep. 
 
 For idle ages, starting, heard at last 
 
 The Lusitanian Prince j who, HsAVEN-inspir’d, 1010 
 
 To love of useful glory rous’d mankind. 
 
 And in unbounded Commerce mix’d the world. 
 
 Increasing still the terrors of these storms, 
 
 His jaws horrific arm’d with threefold fate. 
 
 Here dwells the direful shark. Lur’d by the scent 1015 
 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, 1020 
 
 Demands his share of prey ; demands themselves. 
 
 The stormy Fates descend : one death involves 
 Tyrants and slaves ; when strait, their mangled limbs 
 Crashing at once, he dies the purple seas 
 With gore, and riots in the vengeful meal. 1025 
 
When o’er this world, by equinoctial rains 
 Flooded immense, looks out the joyless sun. 
 
 And draws the copious stream : from swampy fens. 
 Where putrefaction into life ferments. 
 
 And breathes destructive myriads ; or from woods. 
 Impenetrable shades, recesses foul. 
 
 In vapours rank and blue corruption wrapt, 
 
 Wliose gloomy horrors yet no desperate foot 
 Has ever dar’d to pierce j then, wasteful, forth 
 Walks the dire Power of pestilent disease. 
 
 A thousand hideous fiends her course attend ; 
 
 Sick Nature blasting, and to heartless woe. 
 
 And feeble desolation, casting down 
 The towering hopes and all the pride of Man. 
 
 Such as, of late, at Carthagena quench’d 
 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 ardour bright: you heard the groans 
 Of agonizing ships, from shore to shore 3 
 , Heard, nightly plung’d amid the sullen waves. 
 
 1035 
 
 1040 
 
 1045 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 149 
 
 
 
 The Plague. 
 
 
 The frequent corse ; while on each other fix’dj 
 In sad presage, the blank assistants seem’d, 1050 
 Silent, to ask, whom Fate would next demand. 
 
 What need I mention those inclement skies. 
 
 Where, frequent o’er the sickening city. Plague, 
 
 The fiercest child of Nemesis divine. 
 
 Descends ? From Ethiopia’s poisoned woods, 1055 
 From stifled Cairo’s filth, and fetid fields 
 With locust-armies putrefying heap’d. 
 
 This great destroyer sprung. Her awful rage 
 The brutes escape : Man is her destin’d prey j 
 Intemperate Man ! and, o’er his guilty domes, 1060 
 She draws a close incumbent cloud of death j 
 Uninterrupted by the living winds. 
 
 Forbid to blow a wholesome breeze 5 and staiii’d 
 With many a mixture by the sun, suffus’d. 
 
 Of angry aspect. Princely wisdom, then, 1065 
 
 Dejects his watchful eye j and from the hand 
 
 Of feeble justice, ineffectual, drop 
 
 The sword and balance : mute the voice of joy, 
 
 . And hush’d the clamour of the busy world. 
 
 Empty the streets, with uncouth verdure clad} 1070 
 Into the worst of deserts sudden turn’d 
 
160 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 The cheerful haunt of Men : unless escap’d 
 
 From the doom d house, where matchless horror reigns. 
 
 Shut up by barbarous fear, the smitten wretch. 
 
 With frenzy wild, breaks loose ; and, loud to Heaven 
 Screaming, the dreadful policy arraigns. 
 
 Inhuman, and unwise. The sullen door. 
 
 Yet uninfected, on its cautious hinge 
 Fearing to turn, abhors society : 
 
 Dependants, friends, relations. Love himself, 1080 
 Savag’d by woe, forget the tender tie. 
 
 The sweet engagement of the feeling heart. 
 
 But vain their selfish care : the circling sky. 
 
 The wide enlivening air is full of fate 5 
 
 And, struck by turns, in solitary pangs 1085 
 
 They fall, unblest, untended, and unmourn’d. 
 
 Thus o’er the prostrate city black Despair 
 Extends her raven wing ; while, to complete 
 The scene of desolation, stretch’d around. 
 
 The grim guards stand, denying all retreat, 1090 
 And give the flying wretch a better death. 
 
 Much yet remains unsung : the rage intense 
 Of brazen- vaulted skies, of iron fields. 
 
 Where drought and famine starve the blasted year : 
 

 SUMMER. 151 
 
 A Thunder Storm. 
 
 Fir’d by the torch of noon to ten-fold rage, 1095 
 Th’ infuriate hill that shoots the pillar’d flame j 
 And, rous’d within the subterranean world, 
 
 Th’ expanding earthquake, that resistless shakes 
 Aspiring cities from their solid base. 
 
 And buries mountains in the flaming gulph. 1100 
 
 But ’t is enough , return my vagrant Muse : 
 
 A nearer scene of horror calls thee home. 
 
 Behold, slow-settling o’er the lurid grove. 
 
 Unusual darkness broods j and growing gains 
 The full possession of the sky^ surcharg’d 1105 
 
 With wrathful vapour, from the secret beds 
 Where sleep the mineral generations, drawn. 
 
 Thence Nitre, Sulphur, and the fiery spume 
 Of fat Bitumen, steaming on the day. 
 
 With various tinctur’d trains of latent flame, 1110 
 Pollute the sky j and in yon baleful cloud, 
 
 A reddening gloom, a magazine of fate. 
 
 Ferment 3 till, by the touch ethereal rous’d. 
 
 The dash of clouds, or irritating war 
 
 Of fighting winds, while all is calm below, 1115 
 
 They furious spring. A boding silence reigns. 
 
 Dread through the dun expanse 5 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. 1 120 
 Prone, to the lowest vale, the aerial tribes 
 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 eye 3 by Man forsook, 1125 
 
 Who to the crowded cottage hies him fast. 
 
 Or seeks the shelter of the downward cave. 
 
 ’Tis listening fear, and dumb amazement all : 
 
 When to the startled eye the sudden glance 
 Appears far south, eruptive through the cloudy 1130 
 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 3 but as it nearer comes. 
 
 And rolls its awful burden on the wind, 1135 
 
 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 3 shuts and opens still 
 Expansive, wrapping ether in a blaze. ■ 1140 
 
S U M M E R. 
 
 153 
 
 Follows the loosened aggravated roar. 
 
 Enlarging, deepening, mingling; peal on peal 
 Crush'd horrible, convulsing heaven and earth. 
 
 Down comes a delusre of sonorous hail. 
 
 Or prone-descending rain. Wide rent, the clouds 1145 
 Pour a whole flood ; and yet, its flame unquench’d, 
 Th’ unconquerable lightning struggles throuffh, 
 and fierce, or in red whirling balls j 
 And fires the mountains with redoubled rage. 
 
 Black from the stroke, above, the smouldering pine 
 Stands a sad shatter’d trunk; and, stretch’d below, 
 
 A lifeless group the blasted cattle lie : 
 
 Here the soft flocks, with that same harmless look 
 They wore alive, and r um inating still 
 In fancy’s eye ; and there the frowning bull 1155 
 And ox half- rais’d. Struck on the castled cliff. 
 
 The venerable tower and spiry fane 
 Resign their aged pride. The gloomy woods 
 Start at the flash, and from their deep recess, 
 ide-flaming out, their tremb ling inmates shake. 
 Amid Caman on’s mountains rages loud 
 The repercussive roar : with mighty crush. 
 
 Into the flashing deep, from the rude rocks 
 
154 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Story of Celadon and Amelia. 
 
 Of Penmanmaur heap’d hideous to the sky. 
 
 Tumble the smitten cliffs 3 and Snowden’s peak, 1165 
 Dissolving, instant yields his wintry load. 
 
 Far-seen, the heights of heathy Cheviot blaze. 
 
 And Thule bellows through her utmost isles. 
 
 Guilt hears appall’d, with deeply-troubled thought. 
 And yet not always on the guilty head 1170 
 
 Descends the fated flash. Young Celadon 
 And his Amelia were a matchless pair 3 
 With equal virtue form’d, and equal grace. 
 
 The same, distinguish’d by their sex alone : 
 
 Her’s the mild lustre of the blooming morn, II75 
 And his the radiance of the risen day. 
 
 They lov’d : but such their guileless passion was. 
 
 As in the dawn of time inform’d the heart 
 Of innocence, and undissembling truth. 
 
 ’T was friendship heightened by the mutual wish, 1180 
 Th’ enchanting hope, and sympathetic glow. 
 
 Beam’d from the mutual eye. Devoting all 
 To love, each was to each a dearer self 3 
 Supremely happy in th’ awakened power 
 Of giving joy. Alone, amid the shades, 1185 
 
 Still in harmonious intercourse they liv’d 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 155 
 
 Story of Celadon and Amelia# 
 
 The rural day, and talk’d the flowing heart, 
 
 - Or sigh’d and look’d unutterable things. 
 
 So pass’d their life, a clear united stream. 
 
 By care unruffled ; till, in evil hour, 1190 
 
 The tempest caught them on the tender walk. 
 Heedless how far, and where its mazes stray’d 3 
 While, with each other blest, creative love 
 Still bade eternal Eden smile around. 
 
 Presaging instant fate her bosom heav’d 1195 
 
 Unwonted sighs 3 and stealing oft a look 
 Of the big gloom on Celadon, her eye 
 Fell tearful, wetting her disordered cheek. 
 
 In vain assuring love, and confidence 
 In Heaven, repress’d her fear; it grew, and shook 
 Her frame near dissolution. He perceiv’d 
 Th’ unequal conflict, and as angels look 
 On dying saints, his eyes compassion shed. 
 
 With love illumin’d high. Fear not,” he said, 
 
 Sw'eet innocence ! thou stranger to offence, 1205 
 And inward storm ! He, who yon skies involves 
 In frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee 
 With kind regard. O’er thee the secret shaft 
 That wastes at midnight, or th’ undreaded hour 
 
156 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Story of Celadon and Amelia. 
 
 Of noon, flies harmless : and that very voice, 1210 
 '‘’ Which thunders terror through the guilty heart, 
 
 '' With tongues of seraphs whispers peace to thine. 
 
 ’Tis safety to be near thee sure, and thus 
 
 To clasp perfection !” From his void embrace. 
 Mysterious Heaven ! that moment, to the ground, 
 
 A blackened corse, was stmck the beauteous maid. 
 But who can paint the lover, as he stood. 
 
 Pierc’d by severe amazement, hating life. 
 
 Speechless, and fix’d in all the death of woe ! 
 
 So, faint resemblance ! on the marble tomb, 1220 
 The well-dissembled mourner stooping stands. 
 
 For ever silent, and for ever sad. 
 
 As from the face of heaven the shattered clouds 
 Tumultuous rove, th’ interminable sky 
 Sublimer swells, and o’er the world expands 1225 
 A purer azure. Through the lightened air 
 A higher lustre and a clearer calm, 
 
 Difiusive, tremble •, while, as if in sign 
 Of danger past, a glittering robe of joy. 
 
 Set off abundant by the yellow ray, 1230 
 
 Invests the fields j and Nature smiles reviv’d. 
 
 ’Tis beauty all, and grateful song around. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 157 
 
 Bathing. 
 
 Join’d to the low of kine, and numerous bleat 
 
 Of flocks thick-nibbling through the clover’d vale 
 
 And shall the hymn be marr’d by thankless Man, 1235 
 Most favour’d 5 who with voice articulate 
 Should lead the chorus of this lower world ? 
 
 Shall he, so soon forgetful of the Hand 
 That hush’d the thunder, and serenes the sky. 
 Extinguish’d feel that spark the tempest wak’d ? 1240 
 That sense of powers exceeding far his own. 
 
 Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears ? 
 
 Cheer’d by the milder beam, the sprightly youth 
 Speeds to the well-known pool, whose crystal depth 
 A sandy bottom shows. Awhile he stands 1245 
 
 Gazing th’ inverted landskip, half afraid 
 To meditate the blue profound below ; 
 
 Then plunges headlong down the circling flood. 
 
 His ebon tresses, and his rosy cheek. 
 
 Instant emerge ; and through the obedient wave, 1250 
 At each short breathing by his lip repell’d. 
 
 With arms and legs according well, he makes. 
 
 As humour leads, an easy-winding path j 
 While, from his polish’d sides, a dewy light 
 Effuses on the pleas’d spectators round. 
 
 1255 
 
158 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Story of Damon and Musidora. 
 
 This is the purest exercise of health. 
 
 The kind refresher of the summer-heats j 
 
 Nor, when cold winter keens the brightening flood. 
 
 Would I weak-shivering linger on the brink. 
 
 Thus life redoubles, and is oft preserv’d, 1260 
 
 By the bold swimmer, in the swift illapse 
 Of accident disastrous. Hence the limbs 
 Knit into force ; and the same Roman arm. 
 
 That rose victorious o’er the conquer’d earth. 
 
 First learn’d, while tender, to subdue the wave. 1265 
 Even, from the body’s purity, the mind 
 Receives a secret sympathetic aid. 
 
 Close in the covert of an hazel copse. 
 
 Where winded into pleasing solitudes 
 
 Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat, 1270 
 
 Pensive, and pierc d with love’s delightful pangs. 
 
 There to the stream that down the distant rocks 
 Hoarse-murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that play’d 
 Among the bending willows, falsely he 
 Of Musidora’s cruelty complain’d. 1275 
 
 She felt his flame ^ but deep within her breast. 
 
 In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride. 
 
 The soft return conceal’d } save when it stole 
 
 .. 'i- 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 159 
 
 Story of Dftmon and Musidora. 
 
 In side-long glances from her downcast eye. 
 
 Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs. ' 1280 
 Touch’d by the scene, no stranger to his vows. 
 
 He fram’d a melting lay, to tiy her heart ; 
 
 And, if an infant passion struggled there. 
 
 To call that passion forth. Thrice happy swain ! 
 
 A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate 1285 
 
 Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine. 
 
 For lo ! conducted by the laughing Loves, 
 
 This cool retreat his Musidora sought. 
 
 Warm in her cheek the sultry season glow’d ) 
 
 And, rob’d in loose array, she came to bathe 1290 
 Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream. 
 
 What shall he do ? In sweet confusion lost. 
 
 And dubious flutterings, he a while remain’d : 
 
 A pure ingenuous elegance of soul, 
 
 A delicate refinement, known to few, 1295 
 
 Perplex’d his breast, and urg’d him to retire : 
 
 But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, say, 
 
 Say, ye severest, what would you have done ? 
 
 Meantime, this fairer nymph than ever blest 
 Arcadian stream, with timid eye around 1300 
 
 The banks surveying, stripp’d her beauteous limbs. 
 
160 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 
 ‘ ^ j- r r 
 
 Story of Damon and Musidora. 
 
 
 r- f^r-j 
 
 
 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 / 1305 
 
 Cast unconfin d, and gave him all their charms. 
 
 Than, Damon, thou as from the snowy leg. 
 
 And slender foot, th’ inverted silk she drew ; 
 
 As the soft touch dissolv’d the virgin zone 3 
 And, through the parting robe, th’ alternate breast. 
 With youth wild- throbbing, on thy lawless gaze 
 In full luxuriance rose. But, desperate youth. 
 
 How durst thou risque the soul-distracting view. 
 
 As from her naked limbs, of glowing white. 
 Harmonious swell’d by Nature’s finest hand, 1315 
 In folds loose-floating- fell the fainter lawn 3 
 And fair-expos d she stood, shrunk from herself. 
 
 With fancy blushing, at the doubtful breeze 
 Alarm’d, and starting like the fearful fawn ? 
 
 Then to the flood she rush’d 3 the parted flood 1320 
 Its lovely guest with closing waves receiv’d 3 
 And every beauty softening, every grace 
 Flushing anew, a mellow lustre shed : 
 
 As shines the lily through the crystal mild 5 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 161 
 
 Or as the rose amid the morning dew, 1325 
 
 Fresh from Aurora’s hand, more sweetly glows. 
 
 While thus she wanton’d, now beneath the wave 
 But ill-conceal’d ^ and now with streaming locks. 
 That half-embrac’d her in a humid veil. 
 
 Rising again, the latent Damon drew 1330 
 
 Such madning draughts of beauty to the soul. 
 
 As for a while o’erwhelm’d his raptur’d thought 
 With luxury too daring. Check’d, at last. 
 
 By love’s respectful modesty, he deem’d 
 The theft profane, if aught profane to love 1335 
 Can e’er be deem’d j and, struggling from the shade. 
 With headlong hurry fled : but first these lines. 
 
 Trac’d by his ready pencil, on the bank 
 With trembling hand he threw : Bathe on, my fair. 
 Yet unbeheld save by the sacred eye 1340 
 
 Of faithful love : I go to guard thy haunt 5 
 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 : 1345 
 
 So stands the statue that enchants the world ; 
 
 L 
 
 t 
 
Story of Damon and Musidora. 
 
 So bending tries to veil the matchless boast. 
 
 The mingled beauties of exulting Greece. 
 
 Recovering, swift she flew to And those robes 
 Which blissful Eden knew not j and, array’d 1350 
 In careless haste, th’ alarming paper snatch’d. 
 
 But, when her Damon’s weU-known hand she saw. 
 Her terrors vanish’d, and a softer train 
 Of mixt emotions, hard to be describ’d. 
 
 Her sudden bosom seiz’d : shame void of guilt j 1355 
 The charming blush of innocence 5 esteem 
 And admiration of her lover’s flame. 
 
 By modesty exalted : ev’n a sense 
 
 Of self-approving beauty stole across 
 
 Her busy thought. At length, a tender calm 1360 
 
 Hush’d by degrees the tumult of her soul j 
 
 And on the spreading beech, that o’er the stream 
 
 Incumbent hung, she with the sylvan pen 
 
 Of rural lovers, this confession carv’d. 
 
 Which soon her Damon kiss’d with weeping joy: 1365 
 Dear youth ! sole judge of what these verses mean; 
 By fortune too much favour’d, but by love, ’ 
 
 Alas ! not favour’d less j be still as now 
 Discreet 5 the time may come you need not fly.” 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 163 
 
 Evening described. 
 
 The sun has lost his rage : his downward orb 1 370 
 Shoots nothing now but animating warmth. 
 
 And vital lustre j that, with various ray. 
 
 Lights up the clouds, those beauteous robes of Heaven, 
 Incessant roll’d into romantic shapes, 
 
 . The dream of waking fancy ! Broad below, 1375 
 Cover’d with ripening fruits, and swelling fast 
 Into the perfect year, the pregnant earth 
 And all her tribes rejoice. Now the soft hour 
 Of walking comes : for him who lonely loves 
 To seek the distant hills, and there converse 1380 
 With Nature j there to harmonize his heart. 
 
 And in pathetic song to breathe around 
 The harmony to others. Social friends. 
 
 Attun’d to happy unison of soul j 
 
 To whose exalting eye a fairer world, 1385 
 
 Of which the vulgar never had a glimpse. 
 
 Displays its charms 5 whose minds are richly fraught 
 With philosophic stores, superior light } 
 
 And in whose breast, enthusiastic, burns 
 
 Virtue, the sons of interest deem romance j 1390 
 
 Now call’d abroad enjoy the falling day : 
 
 Now to the verdant Portico of woods. 
 
 (■ 
 
The River Thames. 
 
 To Nature’s vast Lyceum, forth they walk 3 
 By that kind School where no proud master reigns. 
 The full free converse of the friendly heart, 1395 
 Improving and improv’d. Now from the world. 
 Sacred to sweet retirement, lovers steal. 
 
 And pour their souls in transport 3 which the Sire 
 Of love approving hears, and calls it good. 
 
 Which way, Amanda, shall we bend our course ? 
 The choice perplexes. Wherefore should we chuse ? 
 All is the same with thee. Say, shall we wind 
 Along the streams ? or walk the smiling mead ? 
 
 Or court the forest-glades ? or wander wild 
 Among the waving harvests ? or ascend, 1405 
 
 While radiant Summer opens all its pride. 
 
 Thy hill, delightful Shene ? Here let us sweep 
 
 The boundless landskip : now the raptur’d eye. 
 
 Exulting swift, to huge Augusta send 3 
 
 Now to the Sister-hills that skirt her plain 3 1410 
 
 To lofty Harrow now, and now to where 
 
 Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow. 
 
 In lovely contrast to this gloiious view. 
 
 Calmly magnificent, then will we turn 
 
 To where the silver Thames first rural grows. 1415 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 165 
 
 
 TTie River Thames. 
 
 There let the feasted eye unwearied stray : 
 
 Luxurious, there, rove through the pendant woods 
 That nodding hang o’er Harrington’s retreat j 
 And, stooping thence to Ham’s embowering w^alks. 
 Beneath whose shades in spotless peace retir’d, 1420 
 With Her the pleasing partner of his heart. 
 
 The worthy Queensb’ry yet laments his Gay j 
 And polish’d Cornbury wooes the willing Muse. 
 
 Slow let us trace the matchless Vale of Thames 5 
 Fair- winding up to where the Muses haunt 1425 
 In Twit’nam’s bowers, and for their Pope implore 
 The healing God j to royal Hampton’s pile j 
 To Clermont’s terrass’d height j and Esher’s groves ) 
 Where in the sweetest solitude, embrac’d 
 By the soft windings of the silent Mole, 1430 
 
 From courts and senates Pelham finds repose. 
 Inchanting vale ! beyond whate’er the Muse 
 Has of Achaia or Hesperia sung ! 
 
 O vale of bliss ! O softly-swelling hills ! 
 
 On which the Power of Cultivation lies, 1435 
 
 And joys to see the wonders of his toil. 
 
 Heavens ! what a goodly prospect spreads around. 
 Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires. 
 
166 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all 
 The stretching landskip into smoke decays ! 1440 
 
 Happy Britannia ! where the Queen of Arts, 
 Inspiring vigour. Liberty abroad 
 Walks, unconfin’d, even to thy farthest cots. 
 
 And scatters plenty with unsparing hand. 
 
 Rich is thy soil, and merciful thy clime j 1445 
 Thy streams unfailing in the Summer’s drought 3 
 Unmatch’d thy guardian-oaks 3 thy valleys float 
 With golden waves : and on thy mountains flocks 
 Bleat numberless 3 while, roving round their sides. 
 Bellow the blackening herds in lusty droves. 1450 
 Beneath, thy meadows glow, and rise unquell’d 
 Against the mower’s scythe. On every hand 
 Thy villas shine. Thy country teems with wealth 3 
 And property assures it to the swain. 
 
 Pleas’d and unwearied in his guarded toil. 1455 
 
 Full are thy cities with the sons of art 3 
 And trade and joy, in every busy street. 
 
 Mingling are heard : even Drudgery himself. 
 
 As at the car he sweats, or dusty hews 
 
 The palace-stone, looks gay. Thy crowded ports. 
 
 Where rising masts an endless prospect yield. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 167 
 
 
 British Worthies. 
 
 With labour burn 3 and echo to the shouts 
 Of hurried sailor, as he hearty waves 
 His last adieu 3 and loosening every sheet. 
 
 Resigns the spreading vessel to the wind. 1465 
 
 Bold, firm, and graceful, are thy generous youth. 
 By hardship sinew’d, and by danger fir’d 3 
 Scattering the nations where they go 3 and first 
 Or on the listed plain, or stormy seas. 
 
 Mild are thy glories too, as o’er the plans 1470 
 
 Of thriving peace thy thoughtful sires preside 3 
 
 In genius, and substantial learning, high 3 
 
 For every virtue, every worth, renown’d 3 
 
 Sincere, plain-hearted, hospitable, kind 3 
 
 Yet like the mustering thunder when provok’d, 1475 
 
 The dread of tyrants, and the sole resource 
 
 Of those that under grim oppression groan. 
 
 Thy Sons of Glory many ! Alfred thine 3 
 In whom the splendour of heroic war 
 And more heroic peace, when govern’d well, 1480 
 Combine 3 whose hallow’d name the virtues saint. 
 
 And his own Muses love 3 the best of Kings ! 
 
 With him thy Edwards and thy Henrys shine. 
 
 Names dear to Fame 3 the first who deep impress’d 
 
168 SUMMER. 
 
 On haughty Gaul the terror of thy arms, 1485 
 
 That awes her genius still. In Statesmen thou. 
 
 And Patriots, fertile. Thine a steady More, 
 
 Who, with a generous though mistaken zeal. 
 Withstood a brutal tyrant’s useful rage. 
 
 Like Cato firm, like Aristides just, 1490 
 
 Like rigid Cincinnatus nobly poor j 
 A dauntless soul erect, who smil’d on death. 
 
 Frugal, and wise, a Walsingham is thine j 
 A Drake, who made thee mistress of the deep, 
 
 And bore thy name in thunder round the world. 1495 
 Then flam’d thy spirit high: but who can speak 
 The numerous worthies of the Maiden Reign? 
 
 In Raleigh mark their every glory mix’d; 
 
 Raleigh, the scourge of Spain ! whose breast with all 
 The sage, the patriot, and the hero burn’d. 1500 
 Nor sunk his vigour, when a coward-reign 
 The warrior fetter’d j and at last resign’d. 
 
 To glut the vengeance of a vanquish’d foe. 
 
 Then, active still and unrestrain’d, his mind 
 Explor’d the vast extent of ages past, 1505 
 
 And with his prison-hours enrich’d the world ; 
 
 Yet found no times, in all the long research. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 169 
 
 British Worthies. 
 
 ^rrrsr rrjj jjj 
 
 * 
 
 So glorious, or so base, as those he prov’d. 
 
 In which he conquer’d, and in which he bled. 
 
 Nor can the Muse the gallant Sidney pass, . 1510 
 The plume of war ! with early laurels crown’d. 
 
 The Lover’s myrtle, and the Poet’s bay. 
 
 A Hamden too is thine, illustrious land! 
 
 Wise, strenuous, firm, of unsubmitting soul; 
 
 Who stem’d the torrent of a downward age 1515 
 To slavery prone, and bade thee rise again. 
 
 In all thy native pomp of freedom bold. 
 
 Bright, at his call, thy Age of Men effulg’d. 
 
 Of Men on whom late time a kindling eye 
 Shall turn, and tyrants tremble while they read. 1520 
 Bring every sweetest flower, and let me strew 
 • The grave where Russel lies; whose temper’d blood. 
 With calmest cheerfulness for thee resign’d. 
 
 Stain’d the sad annals of a giddv reign ; 
 
 Aiming at lawless power, though meanly sunk 1525 
 
 In loose inglorious luxury. With him 
 
 His friend, the British Cassius, fearless bled; 
 
 Of high determin’d spirit, roughly brave. 
 
 By ancient learning to th’ enlightened love 
 Of ancient freedom warm’d. Fair thy renown 1530 
 
British Worthies. 
 
 In awful Sages and in noble Bards j 
 Soon as the light of dawning Science spread 
 Her orient ray, and wak’d the Muses’ song. 
 
 Thine is a Bacon; hapless in his choice. 
 
 Unfit to stand the civil storm of state, 1535 
 
 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 form’d; deep, comprehensive, clear. 
 Exact, and elegant ; in one rich soul, 1540 
 
 Plato, the Stagyrite, and Tully join’d. 
 
 ' The great deliverer he ! who from the gloom 
 Of cloister’d monks, and jargon-teaching schools. 
 
 Led forth the true Philosophy, there long 
 
 Held in the magic chain of words and forms, 1545 
 
 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 scann’d his Nature with a brother’s eye. 
 
 His weakness prompt to shade, to raise his aim. 
 
 To touch the finer movements of the mind. 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 171 
 
 
 British Worthies. 
 
 And with the moral beauty charm the heart. 
 
 Why need I name thy Boyle, whose pious search 1555 
 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 1560 
 From laws sublimely simple, speak thy fame 
 In all philosophy. For lofty sense. 
 
 Creative fancy, and inspection keen 
 Through the deep windings of the human heart. 
 
 Is not wild Shakespeare 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 j 
 Astonishing as Chaos ; as the bloom 
 Of blowing Eden fairj as Heaven sublime. 1570 
 
 Nor shall my verse that elder bard forget. 
 
 The gentle Spenser, Fancy’s pleasing son) 
 
 Who, like a copious river, pour’d his song 
 O’er all the mazes of enchanted ground : 
 
 Nor thee, his ancient master, laughing sage, 1575 
 
 
172 SUMMER. 
 
 Chaucer, whose native manners-painting verse, 
 Well-moraliz’d, 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, 1580 
 
 The feeling heart, simplicity of life. 
 
 And elegance, and taste j the faultless form. 
 
 Shap’d by the hand of harmony j the cheek. 
 
 Where the live crimson, through the native white 
 Soft-shooting, o’er the face diffuses bloom, 1585 
 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; 1590 
 The look resistless, piercing to the soul. 
 
 And by the soul inform’d, when drest in love 
 She sits high-smiling in the conscious eye. 
 
 Island of bliss ! amid the subject seas. 
 
 That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up, 1595 
 At once the wonder, terror, and delight. 
 
 Of distant nations ; whose remotest shores 
 
 \ 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 173 
 
 Decline of Day. 
 
 Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm; 
 
 Not to be shook thyself j but all assaults 
 Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea-wave. 1600 
 O Thou! by whose almighty nod the scale 
 Of empire rises, or alternate falls 3 
 Send forth the saving Virtues round the land. 
 
 In bright patrol j white Peace, and social Love 3 
 The tender-looking Charity, intent 1605 
 
 On gentle deeds, and shedding tears through smiles 3 
 Undaunted Truth, and Dignity of mind 3 
 Courage compos’d, and keen 3 sound Temperance, 
 Healthful in heart and look 3 clear Chastity, 
 
 With blushes reddening as she moves along, 1610 
 Disorder’d at the deep regard she draws 3 
 Rough Industry 3 Activity untir’d. 
 
 With copious life inform’d, and all awake 3 
 
 While in the radiant front, superior shines 
 
 That first paternal virtue. Public Zeal 3 1615 
 
 V' ho throws o’er all an equal wide survey 3 
 
 And, ever musing on the common weal. 
 
 Still labours glorious with some great design. 
 
 Low walks the sun, and broadens by degrees. 
 
 Just o’er the verge of day. The shifting clouds 1620 
 
174 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Decline of Day. 
 
 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 Amphitrit^, and her tending nymphs, 1625 
 
 (So Grecian fable sung) he dips his orb 5 
 Now half-immers’d ; and now a golden curve 
 Gives one bright glance, then total disappears. 
 
 For ever running an enchanted round. 
 
 Passes the day, deceitful, vain, and void j 1630 
 
 As fleets the vision o’er the formful brain. 
 
 This moment hurrying wild th’ impassion’d soul. 
 
 The next in nothing lost. ’T is so to him. 
 
 The dreamer of this earth, an idle blank } 
 
 A sight of horror to the cruel wretch, 1635 
 
 Who all day long in sordid pleasure roll’d. 
 
 Himself an useless load, has squander’d vile. 
 
 Upon his scoundrel train, what might have cheer’d 
 A drooping family of modest worth. 
 
 But to the generous still-improving mind, 1640 
 
 That gives the hopeless heart to sing for joy. 
 
 Diffusing kind beneficence around. 
 
 Boastless, as now descends the silent dew ; 
 
SUMMER. 
 
 175 
 
 A Summer Evening described. 
 
 To him the long review of order’d life 
 
 Is inward rapture, only to be felt. 1645 
 
 Confess’d from yonder slow-extinguish’d clouds. 
 
 All ether softening, sober Evening takes 
 Her wonted station in the middle air j 
 A thousand shadows at her beck. First this 
 She sends on earth 5 then that of deeper die 1650 
 Steals soft behind 3 and then a deeper still. 
 
 In circle following circle, gathers round. 
 
 To close the face of things. A fresher gale 
 Begins to wave the wood, and stir the stream. 
 Sweeping with shadowy gust the fields of corn 3 1655 
 While the quail clamours for his running mate. 
 
 Wide o’er the thistly lawn, as swells the breeze, 
 
 A whitening shower of vegetable down 
 Amusive floats. The kind impartial care 
 Of Nature nought disdains : thoughtful to feed 1660 
 Her lowest sons, and clothe the coming year. 
 
 From field to field the leather’d seeds she wings. 
 
 His folded flock secure, the shepherd home 
 Hies, merry-hearted : and by turns relieves 
 The ruddy milk-maid of her brimming pail 3 
 The beauty whom perhaps his witless heart. 
 
 1665 
 
176 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Ghost! the Dreams of Fancy. 
 
 Unknowing what the joy-mixt anguish means. 
 Sincerely loves, by that best language shown 
 Of cordial glances, and obliging deeds. 
 
 Onward they pass, o’er many a panting height, 1670 
 And valley sunk, and unfrequented 3 where ' 
 
 At fall of eve the fairy people throng. 
 
 In various game, and revelry, to pass 
 The summer-night, as village stories teU. 
 
 But far about they wander from the grave 1675 
 
 Of him, whom his ungentle fortune urg’d 
 
 Against his own sad breast to lift the hand 
 
 Of impious violence. The lonely tower 
 
 Is also shun’d 3 whose mournful chambers hold. 
 
 So night-struck Fancy dreams, the yelling ghost. 1680 
 Among the crooked lanes, on every hedg^ 
 
 The glow-worm lights his gem 3 and, through the dark, 
 A moving radiance twinkles. Evening yields 
 The world to Night 3 not in her winter-robe 
 Of massy Stygian woof, but loose-array’d 1685 
 
 In mantle dun. A faint erroneous ray. 
 
 Glanc’d from th’ imperfect surfaces of things. 
 
 Flings half an image on the straining eye 3 
 While wavering woods, and villages, and streams. 
 
 7 
 
 1 
 
And rocks, and mountain-tops, that long-retain’d 
 Th’ ascending gleam, are all one swimming scene. 
 Uncertain if beheld. Sudden to heaven 
 Thence weary vision turns j where, leading soft 
 The silent hours of love, with purest ray 
 Sweet Venus shines j and from her genial rise, 1695 
 When daylight sickens till it springs afresh, 
 
 Unrival’d reigns, the fairest lamp of night. 
 
 As thus th’ effulgence tremulous I drink. 
 
 With cherish’d gaze, the lambent lightnings shoot 
 Across the sky j or horizontal dart 1700 
 
 In wondrous shapes j by fearful murmuring crowds 
 Portentous deem’d. Amid the radiant orbs. 
 
 That more than deck, that animate the sky. 
 
 The life-infusing suns of other worlds j 
 
 Lo ! from the dread immensity of space 1705 
 
 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 1710 
 
 Those superstitious horrors that enslave 
 The fond sequacious herd, to mystic faith 
 
178 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Praise of Philosophy. 
 
 And blind amazement prone, the enlighten’d few. 
 Whose godlike minds philosophy exalts. 
 
 The glorious stranger hail. They feel a joy 1715 
 Divinely great j they in their powers exult. 
 
 That wondrous force of thought, which mounting spurns 
 This dusky spot, and measures all the sky j 
 WTiile, from his far excursion through the wilds 
 Of barren ether, faithful to his time, 1720 
 
 They see the blazing wonder rise anew. 
 
 In seeming terror clad, but kindly bent 
 To work the will of all-sustaining Love j 
 From his huge vapoury train perhaps to shake 
 Reviving moisture on the numerous orbs, 1725 
 
 Through which his long ellipsis winds j perhaps . 
 
 To lend new fuel to declining suns. 
 
 To light up worlds, and feed th’ eternal fire. 
 
 With thee, serene Philosophy, with thee. 
 
 And thy bright garland, let me crown my song ! 1730 
 Effusive source of evidence, and truth ! 
 
 A lustre shedding o’er th’ ennobled mind. 
 
 Stronger than summer-noon ; and pure as that. 
 Whose mild vibrations sooth the parted soul. 
 
 New to the dawning of celestial day, 1735 
 

 SUMMER. 
 
 179 
 
 
 
 Praise of Philosophy. 
 
 
 
 Hence through her nourish’d powers, enlarg’d by thee. 
 She springs aloft, with elevated pride. 
 
 Above the tangling mass of low desires. 
 
 That bind the fluttering crowd and, angel-wing’d. 
 The heights of science and of virtue gains, 1740 
 Where all is calm and clear j with Nature round. 
 
 Or in the starry regions, or th’ abyss. 
 
 To Reason’s and to Fancy’s eye display’d : 
 
 The first up-tracing, fi*om the dreaiy void. 
 
 The chain of causes and effects, to Him, 1745 
 
 The world-producing Essence ! who alone 
 Possesses being ; while the last receives 
 The whole magnificence of heaven and earth, 
 
 And every beauty, delicate or bold. 
 
 Obvious or more remote, with livelier sense, 1750 
 Diffusive painted on the rapid mind. 
 
 Tutor d by thee, hence Poetry exalts 
 Her voice to ages ^ and informs the page 
 With music, image, sentiment, and thought. 
 
 Never to die ! the treasure of mankind ! 1755 
 
 Their highest honour, and their truest joy ! 
 
 Without thee, what were unenlighten’d Man ? 
 
 A savage roaming through the woods and wilds. 
 
180 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Praise of Philosophy. 
 
 In quest of prey ; and with th’ unfashion’d fur 
 Rough clad 5 devoid of every finer art, 1760 
 
 And elegance of life. Nor happiness 
 Domestic, mix’d of tenderness and care. 
 
 Nor moral excellence, nor social bliss. 
 
 Nor guardian law were his ; nor various skill 
 To turn the furrow, or to guide the tool 1765 
 
 Mechanic ; nor the heaven-conducted prow 
 Of navigation bold, that fearless braves 
 The burning line or dares the wintiy pole j 
 Mother severe of infinite delights ! 
 
 Notfiing, save rapine, indolence, and guile, 1770 
 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 j 
 To live like brothers, and conjunctive all 1775 
 
 Embellish life. While thus laborious crowds 
 Ply the tough oar. Philosophy directs 
 The ruling helm j or like the liberal breath 
 Of potent Heaven, invisible, the sail 
 Swells out, and bears th’ inferior world along. 1780 
 Nor to this evanescent speck of earth 
 

 ■r- 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Praise of Philosophy. 
 
 ISi 
 
 r r 
 
 
 
 f‘^ 
 
 Poorly confin’d^ tlie radiant tracts on high 
 Are her exalted range •, intent to gaze 
 Creation through : and, from that full complex 
 Of never-ending wonders, to conceive 17S5 
 
 Of the Sole Being right, who spoke the word. 
 
 And Nature mov’d complete. With inward view. 
 Thence on th’ ideal kingdom swift she turns 
 Her eye j and instant, at her powerful glance, 
 
 Th’ obedient phantoms vanish or appear; 1790 
 
 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 j 
 And notion quite abstract ; where first begins 1795 
 The world of spirits, action all, and life 
 Unfetter’d, and unmixt. But here the cloud. 
 
 So wills Eternal Providence, sits deep. 
 
 Enough for us to know that this dark state. 
 
 In w’ayward passions lost, and vain pursuits, 1800 
 This Infancy of Being, cannot prove 
 The final issue of the works of God j 
 By boundless Love and perfect Wisdom fonn’d. 
 
 And ever rising with the rising mind. 
 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 
 ITie subject proposed. — Addressed to Mr. Onslow. — A prospect 
 of the fields ready for harvest. — Reflections in praise of 
 industry raised by that view. — Reaping. — A tale relative to 
 it. — A harvest-storm. — Shooting and hunting, their harharity. 
 — A ludicrous account of fox-hunting. — A view of an orchard. 
 — Wall-fruit. — A vineyard. — A description of fogs, frequent 
 in the latter part of Autumn ; whence a digression, inquiring 
 into the rise of fountains and rivers. — Birds of season con- 
 sidered, that now shift their habitation. — ^The prodigious 
 number of them that cover the northern and western isles 
 of Scotland. — Hence a view of the country. — A prospect of 
 the discoloured, fading woods. — After a gentle dusky day, 
 moonlight. — Autumnal meteors. — Morning: to which suc- 
 ceeds a calm, pure, sunshiny day, such as usually shuts up 
 the season. — The harvest being gathered in, the country 
 dissolved in joy. — ^The whole concludes with a panegyric on 
 a philosophical country life. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 Inscribed to Mr. Onslow, 
 
 CrOWN’D with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf. 
 While Autumn, nodding o’er the yellow plain. 
 
 Comes jovial on j the Doric reed once more. 
 
 Well pleas’d, I tune. Whate’er the Wintry frost 
 Nitrous prepar’d j the various-blossom’d Spring 5 
 Put in white promise forth ; and Summer-suns 
 Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view 3 
 Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme. 
 
 Onslow ! the Muse, ambitious of thy name. 
 
 To grace, inspire, and dignify her song, 10 
 
 Would from the Public Voice thy gentle ear 
 A while engage. Thy noble cares she knows. 
 
 The patriot virtues that distend thy thought. 
 
 Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow j 
 While listening senates hang upon thy tongue, IS 
 
186 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 
 Autumn described. 
 
 Devolving through the maze of eloquence 
 A roll of periods, sweeter than her song. 
 
 But she too pants for public virtue j she. 
 
 Though weak of power, yet strong in ardent will. 
 Whene’er her country rushes on her heart, 20 
 
 Assumes a bolder note and fondly tries 
 To mix the patriot’s with the poet’s flame. 
 
 When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days. 
 And Libra weighs in equal scales the year ; 
 
 From heaven’s high cope the fierce effulgence shook 
 Of parting Summer, a serener blue. 
 
 With golden light enliven’d, wide invests 
 The happy world. Attemper’d suns arise, 
 Sweet-beam’d, and shedding oft through lucid clouds 
 A pleasing calm j while broad, and brown, below 30 
 Extensive harvests hang the heavy head. 
 
 Rich, silent, deep, they stand j for not a gale 
 Rolls its light billows o’er the bending plain : 
 
 A calm of plenty ! till the mffled air 
 
 Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow. 35 
 
 Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky j 
 
 The clouds fly different j and the sudden sun 
 
 By fits effulgent gilds the illumin’d field, 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 187 
 
 Blessings of Industry. 
 
 
 And black by fits the shadows sweep along. 
 
 A gaily-checker’d heart-expanding view, ' 40 
 
 Far as the circling eye can shoot around. 
 
 Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn. 
 
 These are thy blessings. Industry! rough power! 
 Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain j 
 Yet the kind source of every gentle art, 45 
 
 And all the soft civility of life : 
 
 Raiser of human kind ! by Nature cast. 
 
 Naked, and helpless, out amid the woods 
 And wilds, to rude inclement elements ; 
 
 With various seeds of art deep in the mind 50 
 
 Implanted, and profusely pour’d around 
 Materials infinite j but idle all. 
 
 Still unexerted, in th’ unconscious breast. 
 
 Slept the lethargic powers 3 corruption still. 
 
 Voracious, swallow’d what the liberal hand 55 
 
 Of bounty scatter’d o’er the savage year: 
 
 And still the sad barbarian, roving, mix’d 
 With beasts of prey ; or for his acorn-meal 
 Fought the fierce tusky boar j a shivering wretch ! 
 Aghast, and comfortless, when the bleak north, 60 
 With winter charg’d, let the mix’d tempest fly. 
 
18 S 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Blessings of Industry. 
 
 Hail, rain, and snow, and bitter-breathing frost : 
 
 Then to the shelter of the hut he fled : 
 
 • * 
 
 And the wild season, sordid, pin’d away. 
 
 For home he had not 3 home is the resort 65 
 
 Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty j where. 
 Supporting and supported, polish’d friends. 
 
 And dear relations, mingle into bliss. 
 
 But this the rugged savage never felt, 
 
 Ev’n desolate in crowds 5 and thus his days 70 
 
 Roll’d heavy, dark, and unenjoy’d along : 
 
 A waste of time ! till Industry approach’d. 
 
 And rous’d him from his miserable sloth : 
 
 His faculties unfolded 5 pointed out. 
 
 Where lavish Nature the directing hand 75 
 
 Of Art demanded 3 show’d him how to raise 
 
 His feeble force by the mechanic powers 3 
 
 To dig the mineral from the vaulted earth 3 
 
 On what to turn the piercing rage of fire 3 
 
 On what the torrent, and the gather’d blast 3 80 
 
 Gave the tall ancient forest to his axe 3 
 
 Taught him to chip the wood, and hew the stone. 
 
 Till by degrees the finish’d fabric rose 3 
 Tore from his limbs the blood-polluted fur. 
 

 r ^ ^ ^ 
 
 *“ -f ^ f f f - -f r-^j' f ^ 
 
 And wrapt them in the woolly vestment warm. 
 Or bright in glossy silk, and flowing lawn -, 
 With wholesome viands fill’d his table j pour’d 
 The generous glass around, inspir’d to wake 
 
 The life-refining soul of decent wit 
 
 Nor stopp’d at barren bare necessity ^ 
 
 But still advancing bolder, led him on 
 To pomp, to pleasure, elegance, and grace 3 
 And, breathing high ambition through his soul. 
 
 Set science, wisdom, glory, in his view. 
 
 And bade him be the Lord of all below. 
 
 Then gath’ring men their natural powers combin’d. 
 And form’d a Public j to the general good 
 Submitting, aiming, and conducting all. 
 
 For this the Patriot Council met, the full. 
 
 The free, and fairly represented Whole 5 
 For this they plann’d the holy guardian law’s ; 
 Distinguish’d orders, animated arts. 
 
 And with joint force Oppression chaining, set 
 Imperial Justice at the helm 3 yet still 
 To them accountable : nor slavish dream’d 
 That toiling millions must resign their weal, 
 
 100 
 
 i 
 
 
190 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Commerce the Parent of Wealth. 
 
 And all the honey of their search, to such 
 As for themselves alone themselves have rais’d. 
 
 Hence every form of cultivated life 
 In order set, protected, and inspir’d, no 
 
 Into perfect wrought. Uniting all. 
 
 Society grew numerous, high, polite. 
 
 And happy. Nurse of art ! the city rear’d 
 In beauteous pride her tower-encircled head j 
 And, stretching street on street, by thousands drew, 115 
 From twining woody haunts, or the tough yew 
 To bows strong-straining, her aspiring sons. 
 
 Then Commerce brought into the public walk 
 The busy merchant 3 the big warehouse built 3 
 Rais’d the strong crane 3 choak’d up the loaded street 
 With foreign plenty 3 and thy stream, O 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 3 the bellying sheet between 125 
 
 Possess’d the breezy void 3 the sooty hulk 
 
 Steer d sluggish on 3 the splendid barge along 
 
 Row’d, regular, to harmony 3 around. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 191 
 
 
 The Praises of Industry. — Description of Reaping. 
 
 The boat, light-skimming, stretch’d its oary wings j 
 While deep the various voice of fervent toil 130 
 
 From bank to bank increas’d^ whence ribb’d with oak. 
 To bear the British Thunder, black, and bold. 
 
 The roaring vessel rush’d into the main. 
 
 Then too the pillar’d dome, magnific, heav’d 
 Its ample roof j and Luxury within 135 
 
 Pour’d out her glittering stores : the canvas smooth. 
 With glowing life protuberant, to the view 
 Embodied rose ; the statue seem’d to breathe. 
 
 And soften into flesh, beneath the touch 
 Of forming art, imagination-flush’d. 140 
 
 All is the gift of Industry j whate’er 
 Exalts, embellishes, and renders life 
 Delightful. Pensive Winter cheer’d by him 
 Sits at the social fire, and happy hears 
 Th’ excluded tempest idly rave along j 145 
 
 His hardened fingers deck the gaudy Spring j 
 Without him Summer were an arid waste j 
 Nor to th’ Autumnal months could thus transmit 
 Those full, mature, immeasurable stores. 
 
 That, waving round, recall my wandering song. 150 
 Soon as the morning trembles o’er the sky. 
 
Description of Reaping. 
 
 And, unperceiv’d, unfolds the spreading day ; 
 
 Before the ripened field the reapers stand. 
 
 In fair array j each by the lass he loves j 
 
 To bear the rougher part, and mitigate 155 
 
 By nameless gentle offices her toil. 
 
 At once they stoop and swell the lusty sheaves j 
 While through their cheerful band, the rural talk. 
 
 The rural scandal, and the rural jest. 
 
 Fly harmless ; to deceive the tedious time, 160 
 
 And steal unfelt the sultry hours away. 
 
 Behind the master walks, builds up the shocks ; 
 
 And, conscious, glancing oft on every side 
 His sated eye, feels his heart heave with joy. 
 
 The gleaners spread around, and here and there, 165 
 Spike after spike, their scanty harvest pick. 
 
 Be not too narrow, husbandmen but fling 
 From the full sheaf, with charitable stealth. 
 
 The liberal handful. Think, oh grateful think ! 
 
 How good the God of Harvest is to you j 170 
 
 Who pours abundance o’er your flowing fields j 
 While these unhappy partners of your kind 
 Wide-hover round you, like the fowls of heaven. 
 
 And ask their humble dole. The various turns 
 
Story of Palemou and Lavinia* — Laviuia described 
 
 Of fortune ponder j that your sons may want 
 What now, with hard reluctance, faint, ye give. 
 
 The lovely young Lavinia once had friends. 
 
 And Fortune smil’d, deceitful, on her birth 3 
 For, in her helpless years deprived of all. 
 
 Of every stay, save Innocence and Heaven, 
 
 She, with her widow’d mother, feeble, old. 
 
 And poor, liv’d in a cottage, far retir’d 
 Among the windings of a woody vale 3 
 By solitude and deep surrounding shades. 
 
 But more by bashful modesty conceal’d. 185 
 
 Together thus they shunn’d the cruel scorn 
 Which virtue, sunk to poverty, would meet 
 From giddy passion and low-minded pride : 
 
 Almost on Nature’s common bounty fedj 
 
 Like the gay birds that sung them to repose,* 190 
 
 Content, and careless of to-morrow’s fare. 
 
 Her form was fresher than the morning rose, 
 
 When the dew wets its leaves j unstain’d, and pure. 
 
 As is the lily, or the mountain snow. 
 
 The modest virtues mingled in her eyes, 195 
 
 Still on the ground dejected, darting all 
 Their humid beams into the blooming flowers : 
 
 N 
 
 
 * 7* 
 
 
Palemon described. 
 
 Or when the mournful tale her mother told. 
 
 Of what her faithless fortune promis’d once. 
 
 Thrill’d in her thought, they, like the dewy star 200 
 Of evening, shone in tears. A native grace 
 Sat fair-proportion’ d on her polish’d limbs. 
 
 Veil’d in a simple robe, their best attire. 
 
 Beyond the pomp of dress ; for loveliness 
 
 Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, 206 
 
 But is when unadorn’d adorn’d the most. 
 
 Thoughtless of beauty, she was beauty’s self. 
 
 Recluse amid the close-embowering woods. 
 
 As in the hollow breast of Appenine, 
 
 Beneath the shelter of encircling hills, 210 
 
 A myrtle rises, far from human eye. 
 
 And breathes its balmy fragrance o’er the wild ; 
 
 So flourish’d blooming, and unseen by all. 
 
 The sweet Lavinia; till, at length, compell’d 
 By strong Necessity’s supreme command, 215 
 
 With smiling patience in her looks, she went 
 
 / 
 
 To glean Palemon’s fields. The pride of swains 
 Palemon was, the generous and the rich; 
 
 Who led the rural life in all its joy 
 
 And elegance, such as Arcadian song 220 
 

 The Pleasures of a virtuous Passion 
 
 
 Transmits from ancient uncorrupted times j 
 When tyrant custom had not shackled Man, 
 
 But free to follow Nature was the mode. 
 
 He then, his fancy with autumnal scenes 
 Amusing, chanc’d beside his reaper-train 
 To walk, when poor Lav ini a drew his eye j 
 Unconscious of her power, and turning quick 
 With unaffected blushes from his gaze : 
 
 He saw her charming, but he saw not half 
 The charms her downcast modesty conceal’d. 
 That very moment love and chaste desire 
 Sprung in his bosom, to himself unknown j 
 For still the world prevail’d, and its dread laugh. 
 Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn, 
 Sliould his heart own a gleaner in the field j 
 And thus in secret to his soul he sigh’d : 
 
 What pity! that so delicate a form. 
 
 By beauty kindled, where enlivening sense 
 And more than vulgar goodness seem to dwell. 
 Should be devoted to the rude embrace 
 Of some indecent clown ! She looks, methinks. 
 Of old Acasto’s line 3 and to my mind 
 Recalls that patron of my happy life. 
 
 235 
 
 €C 
 
 SC 
 
 CC 
 
 iC 
 
 240 
 
196 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Palemon’s Address to Lavinia. 
 
 From whom my liberal fortune took its rise j 
 Now to the dust gone down ^ his houses, lands, 245 
 And once fair-spreading family, dissolv’d. 
 
 ’T is said that in some lone obscure retreat. 
 
 Urg’d by remembrance sad, and decent pride. 
 
 Far from those scenes which knew their better days. 
 His aged widow and his daughter live, 250 
 
 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 255 
 
 The mingled passions that surpris’d his heart. 
 
 And through his nerves in shivering transport ran ? 
 “^rhen blaz’d his smother’d flame, avow’d and bold,- 
 And as he view’d her, ardent, o’er and o'er. 
 
 Love, gratitude, and pity wept at once. 260 
 
 Confus’d, and frightened at his sudden tears. 
 
 Her rising beauties flush’d a higher bloom. 
 
 As thus Pale MON, passionate and just. 
 
 Pour’d out the pious rapture of his soul: 
 
 And art thou then Acasto’s dear remains ? 
 
 She, whom my restless gratitude has sought,. 
 
 265 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 197 
 
 Falemou's Address to Lavinia. 
 
 So long in vain ? O heavens ! the very same^ 
 
 The softened image of my noble friend 5 
 ‘‘ Alive his every look, his every feature. 
 
 More elegantly touch’d. Sweeter than Spring! 270 
 " Thou sole surviving blossom from the root 
 - That nourish’d up my fortune 1 say, ah where, 
 
 ” In what sequester’d desert, hast thou drawn 
 The kindest aspect of delighted Heaven ? 
 
 Into such beauty spread, and blown so fair 3 275 
 
 Though poverty’s cold wind, and crushing rain. 
 
 Beat keen, and heavy, on thy tender years ? 
 
 O let me now, into a richer soil. 
 
 Transplant thee safej where vernal suns, and showers. 
 Diffuse their warmest, largest influence 3 280 
 
 And of my garden be the pride, and joy. 
 
 "" 111 it befits thee, oh 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 , 285 
 
 THe very refuse of those harvest-fields. 
 
 Which from his bounteous fiiendship I enjoy. 
 
 Then throw that shameful pittance from thy hand. 
 But ill apply’d to such a rugged task 3 
 
198 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 The Story of Palemon and Lavinia concluded. 
 
 The fields, the master, all, my fair, are thine^ 290 
 If to the various blessings which thy house 
 Has on me lavish’d, thou wilt add that bliss, 
 
 ** That dearest bliss, the power of blessing thee!” 
 
 Here ceas’d the youth : yet still his speaking eye 
 Express’d the sacred triumph of his soul, 295 
 
 With conscious virtue, gratitude, and love. 
 
 Above the vulgar joy divinely rais’d. 
 
 Nor waited he reply. Won by the charm 
 Of goodness irresistible, and all 
 
 In sweet disorder lost, she blush’d consent. 300 
 
 The news immediate to her mother brought. 
 
 While, pierc’d with anxious thought, she pin’d away 
 The lonely moments for Lavinia’s fate j 
 Amaz’d, and scarce believing what she heard, 
 
 Joy seiz’d her wither’d veins, and one bright gleam 
 Of setting life shone on her evening hours : 
 
 Nor less enraptur’d than the happy pair; 
 
 Who flourish’d long in tender bliss, and rear’d 
 A numerous offspring, lovely like themselves. 
 
 And good, the grace of all the country round. 310 
 Defeating oft the labours of the year. 
 
 The sultry south collects a potent blast. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 199 
 
 Tlie Effects of a Storm described. 
 
 At first the groves are scarcely seen to stir 
 Their trembling tops; and a still murmur runs 
 Along the soft-inclining fields of corn. 315 
 
 But as the aerial tempest fuller swells. 
 
 And in one mighty stream, invisible. 
 
 Immense! the whole excited atmosphere 
 Impetuous rushes o’er the sounding world; 
 
 Strain’d to the root, the stooping forest pours 320 
 A rustling shower of yet untimely leaves. 
 
 High-beat, the circling mountains eddy in. 
 
 From the bare wild, the dissipated storm. 
 
 And send it in a torrent down the vale. 
 
 Expos’d, and naked, to its utmost rage, 325 
 
 Through all the sea of harvest rolling round. 
 
 The billowy plain floats wide ; nor can evade. 
 
 Though pliant to the blast, its seizing force; 
 
 Or whirl’d in air, or into vacant chaff 
 
 Shook waste. And sometimes too a burst of rain, 330 
 
 Swept from the black horizon, broad, descends 
 
 In one continuous flood. Still over head 
 
 The mingled tempest weaves its gloom, and still 
 
 The deluge deepens ; till the fields around 
 
200 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 r- -r ■T' 
 
 The Effects of a Storm described. 
 
 
 Lie sunk, and flatted, in the sordid wave. 335 
 
 Sudden, the ditches swell j the meadows swim. 
 
 Red, from the hills, innumerable streams 
 Tumultuous roar 3 and high above its banks 
 The river lift 3 before whose rushing tide. 
 
 Herds, flocks, and harvests, cottages, and swains, 340 
 Roll mingled down 5 all that the winds had spar’d 
 In one wild moment min’d 3 the big hopes. 
 
 And well-earn’d treasures of the painful year. 
 
 Fled to some eminence, the husbandman 
 Helpless beholds the miserable wreck 345 
 
 Driving along 3 his drowning ox at once 
 Descending, with his labours scatter’d round. 
 
 He sees 3 and instant o’er his shivering thought 
 Comes Winter unprovided, and a train 
 Of clamant children dear. Ye masters, then, 350 
 Be mindful of the rough laborious hand. 
 
 That sinks you soft in elegance and ease 3 
 Be mindful of those limbs in russet clad. 
 
 Whose toil to yours is warmth, and graceful pride 3 
 And oh be mindful of that sparing board 355 
 
 Which covers yours with luxury profuse 3 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 201 
 
 
 The Sportsman. 
 
 »• ^ ^ J- s 
 
 r-^ 
 
 
 Makes your glass sparkle, and your sense rejoice 3 
 Nor cruelly demand what the deep rains. 
 
 And all-involving w'inds have swept away. 
 
 Here the rude elamour of the sportman’s joy, 360 
 The gun fast-thundering, and the winded horn. 
 
 Would tempt the Muse to sing the rural game: 
 
 How, in his mid-career, the spaniel struck. 
 
 Stiff, by the tainted gale, with open nose. 
 
 Out -stretch’d, and finely sensible, draws full, 365 
 Fearful, and cautious, on the latent prey 3 
 As in the sun the circling covey bask 
 Their varied plumes, and w'atchful every way. 
 
 Through the rough stubble turn the secret eye. 
 
 Caught in the meshy snare, in vain they beat 370 
 Their idle wings, entangled more and more : 
 
 Nor on the surges of the boundless air. 
 
 Though borne triumphant, are they safe 3 the gun 
 Glanc d just, and sudden, from the fowler’s eye, 
 O’ertakes their sounding pinions 3 and again, 375 
 Immediate, brings them from the towering wing. 
 
 Dead to the ground 3 or drives them wide-dispers’d. 
 Wounded, and wheeling various, down the wind. 
 
 These are not subjects for the peaceful muse. 
 
 
 
 & 
 
 sIj 
 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 2(y2 
 
 Cruelty of Hunting. 
 
 
 
 Nor will she stain w'ith such her spotless song j 380 
 Then most delighted, when she social sees 
 The whole mix’d animal-creation round 
 Alive, and happy. ’T is not joy to her. 
 
 This falsely-cheerful barbarous game of death j 
 This rage of pleasure, which the restless youth 385 
 Awakes, impatient, with the gleaming morn j 
 When beasts of prey retire, that all night long. 
 
 Urg’d by necessity, had rang’d the dark ; 
 
 As if their conscious ravage shun’d the light, 
 
 Asham’d. Not so the steady tyrant man, 390 
 
 Who with the thoughtless insolence of power 
 Inflam’d, beyond the most infuriate wrath 
 Of the worst monster that e’er roam’d the waste. 
 
 For sport alone pursues the cruel chase. 
 
 Amid the beamings of the gentle days. 395 
 
 Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage. 
 
 For hunger kindles you, and lawless want j 
 But lavish fed, in Nature’s bounty roll’d, 
 
 To joy at anguish, and delight in blood. 
 
 Is what your horrid bosoms never knew. 400 
 
 Poor is the triumph o’er the timid hare. 
 
 Scar’d from the corn, and now to some lone seat 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 203 
 
 
 Hunting the Hare. 
 
 Retir’d : the rushy fen the ragged furze, 
 
 Stretch’d o’er the stony heath j the stubble chapt ^ 
 
 The thistly lawn ; the thick-entangled broom 3 405 
 
 Of the same friendly hue, the wither’d fern 3 
 The fallow ground laid open to the sun, 
 
 Concoctive3 and the nodding sandy bank. 
 
 Hung o’er the mazes of the mountain brook. 
 
 Vain is her best precaution ; though she sits 410 
 Conceal’d, with folded ears 3 unsleeping eyes. 
 
 By Nature rais’d to take th’ horizon in 3 
 And head couch’d close betwixt her hairy feet. 
 
 In act to spring away. The scented dew 
 
 Betrays her early labyrinth 3 and deep 415 
 
 In scatter’d sullen openings, far behind, 
 
 \\ ith every breeze she hears the coming storm. 
 
 But nearer, and more frequent, as it loads 
 The sighing gale, she springs amaz’d 3 and all 
 The savage soul of game is up at once : 42 o 
 
 The pack full-opening, various 3 the shrill horn 
 Resounded from the hills 3 the neighing steed. 
 
 Wild for the chase 3 and the loud hunter’s shout 3 
 
 O’er a weak, harmless, flying creature, all 
 
 Mix’d in mad tumult, and discordant joy. 425 
 
 
204 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 The stag too, singled from the herd, where long 
 He rang’d the branching monarch of the shades. 
 Before the tempest drives. At first, in speed. 
 
 He, sprightly, puts his faith j and rous’d by fear. 
 
 Gives all his swift aerial soul to flight j 430 
 
 Against the breeze he darts, that way the more 
 To leave the lessening murderous cry behind : 
 Deception short ! though fleeter than the winds 
 Blown o’er the keen-air’d mountain by the north. 
 
 He bursts the thickets, glances through the glades, 435 
 And plunges deep into the wildest wnod j 
 If slow, yet sure, adhesive to the track 
 Hot-steaming, up behind him come again 
 Th’ inhuman rout, and from the shady depth 
 Expel him, circling through his ex ery shift. 440 
 
 He sweeps the forest oft j 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 445 
 
 To lose the scent, and lave his burning sides ; 
 
 Oft seeks the herd ; the watchful herd, alarm’d. 
 
 With selfish care avoid a brother’s woe. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 205 
 
 Hunting the Stag. 
 
 What shLill he do ? His once so vivid nerves^ 
 
 So full of buoyant spirit, now no more 450 
 
 Inspire the course ■, but fainting breathless toil. 
 
 Sick, seizes on his heart : he stands at bay 3 
 And puts his last weak refuge in despair. 
 
 The big round tears run down his dappled face j 
 He groans in anguish 5 while the growling pack, 455 
 Blood happy, hang at his fair-jutting chest. 
 
 And mark his beauteous checker’d sides with gore. 
 
 Of this enough. But if the sylvan youth. 
 
 Whose fervent blood boils into violence. 
 
 Must have the chase; behold, despising flight, 460 
 The rous’d-up lion, resolute, and slow. 
 
 Advancing full on the protended spear. 
 
 And coward-band, that circling wheel aloof. . i 
 
 Slunk from the cavern, and the troubled wood, 
 
 See the grim wolf ; on him his shaggy foe 465 
 
 Vindictive fix, and let the ruffian die : 
 
 Or, growling horrid, as the brindled boar 
 
 Grins fell destruction, to the monster’s heart . f j-O 
 
 Let the dart lighten from the nervous arm. 
 
 These Britain knows not; give, ye Britons, then 
 Your sportive fury, pitiless, to pour , , j 
 
206 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 
 Hunting the Fox. 
 
 Loose on the nightly robber of the fold : 
 
 Him, from his craggy winding haunts unearth’d. 
 
 Let all the thunder of the chase pursue. 
 
 Throw the broad ditch behind you } o’er the hedge 475 
 
 High-bound, resistless j nor the deep morass 
 
 Refuse, but through the shaking wilderness 
 
 Pick your nice way j into the perilous flood 
 
 Bear fearless, of the raging instinct fullj 
 
 And as you ride the torrent, to the banks 480 
 
 Your triumph sound sonorous, running round. 
 
 From rock to rock, in circling echoes tost j 
 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, 485 
 
 Pour all your speed into the rapid game. 
 
 For happy he ! who tops the wheeling chase ; 
 
 Has every maze evolv’d, and every guile 
 Disclos’d; who knows the merits of the pack; 
 
 Who saw the villain seiz’d, and dying hard, 490 
 
 Without complaint, though by a hundred mouths 
 Relentless torn : O glorious he, beyond 
 His daring peers! when the retreating horn 
 Calls them to ghostly halls of grey renown. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 207 
 
 
 Hunting Entertainment. 
 
 
 r^-^0 
 
 With woodland honours grac’d ; the fox’s fur, 495 
 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 3 
 
 With feats Thessalian Centaurs never knew, 500 
 
 And their repeated wonders shake the dome. 
 
 But first the fuel’d chimney blazes widej 
 The tankards foam ; and the strong table groans 
 Beneath the smoking sirloin, stretch’d immense 
 From side to side; in which, with desperate knife, 505 
 They deep incision make, and talk the while 
 Of England’s glory, ne’er to be defac’d. 
 
 While hence they borrow vigour : or amain 
 Into the pasty plung’d, at interv^als. 
 
 If stomach keen can intervals allow, 510 
 
 Relating all the glories of the chase. 
 
 Then sated Hunger bids his brother Thirst 
 Produce the mighty bowl; the mighty bowl, 
 
 S well’d high with fiery juice, steams liberal round 
 A potent gale; delicious, as the breath 515 
 
 Of Maia to the love-sick shepherdess, 
 
 N 
 
 On violets diffus’d, while soft she hears 
 
208 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Hunting Entertainment. 
 
 Her panting shepherd stealing to her arms. 
 
 Nor wanting is the brown October^ drawn, 
 
 Mature and perfect^ from his dark retreat 520 
 
 Of thirty years; and now his honest front 
 Flames in the light refulgent, not afraid 
 Ev’n with the vineyard’s best produce to vie. 
 
 To cheat the thirsty moments. Whist a while 
 Walks his dull round, beneath a cloud of smoke, 525 
 Wreath’d, fragrant, from the pipe; or the quick dice. 
 In thunder leaping from the box, awake 
 The sounding gammon : while romp-loving miss 
 Is haul’d about, in gallantry robust. 
 
 At last these puling idlenesses laid 530 
 
 Aside, frequent and full, the dry divan 
 Close in firm circle ; and set, ardent, in 
 For serious drinking. Nor evasion sly. 
 
 Nor sober shift, is to the puking wretch 
 
 Indulg’d apart ; but earnest, brimming bowls 535 
 
 Lave every soul, the table floating round. 
 
 And pavement, faithless to the fuddled foot. 
 
 Thus as they swim in mutual swill, the talk. 
 Vociferous at once from twenty tongues. 
 
 Reels fast from theme to theme ; from horses, hounds. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 209 
 
 Hunting Entertainment. 
 
 To church or mistress, politics or ghost. 
 
 In endless mazes, intricate, perplex’d. 
 
 Meantime, with sudden interruption, loud, 
 
 Th’ impatient catch bursts from the joyous heart; 
 
 That moment touch’d is every kindred soul ; 545 
 
 And, opening in a full-mouth’d cry of joy. 
 
 The laugh, the slap, the jocund curse go round; 
 While, from their slumbers shook, the kennell’d hounds 
 Mix in the music of the day again. 
 
 As when the tempest, that has vex’d the deep 550 
 The dark night long, with fainter murmurs falls : 
 
 So gradual sinks their mirth. Their feeble tongues. 
 Unable to take up the cumbrous word. 
 
 Lie quite dissolv’d. Before their maudlin eyes. 
 
 Seem dim, and blue, the double tapers dance, 555 
 Like the sun wading through the misty sky. 
 
 Then, sliding soft, they drop. Confus’d above. 
 
 Glasses and bottles, pipes and gazetteers. 
 
 As if the table ev’n itself was drunk. 
 
 Lie a wet broken scene; and wide, below, 560 
 
 Is heap’d the social slaughter ; where astride 
 The lubber Power in filthy triumph sits. 
 
 Slumbrous, inclining, still from side to side ; 
 
 o 
 
-"1 
 
 !210 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Advice to t'he Fair Sex. 
 
 
 And steeps them drench’d in potent sleep till morn. 
 Perhaps some doctor, of tremendous paunch, 565 
 Awful and deep, a black abyss of drink. 
 
 Outlives them all and from his bury’d flock 
 Retiring, full of rumination sad. 
 
 Laments the weakness of these latter times. 
 
 But if the rougher sex by this fierce sport 570 
 Is hurried wild, let not such horrid joy 
 E’er stain .the bosom of the British Fair. 
 
 Far be the spirit of the chase from them 
 Uncomely courage, unbeseeming skill; 
 
 To spring the fence, to rein the prancing steed ; 575 
 
 The cap, the whip, the masculine attire. 
 
 In which they roughen to the sense, and all 
 The winning softness of their sex is lost. 
 
 In them ’t is graceful to dissolve at woe ; 
 
 With every motion, every word, to wave 580 
 
 Quick o’er the kindling cheek the ready blush ; 
 
 And from the smallest violence to shrink 
 Unequal, then the loveliest in their fears j 
 And by this silent adulation, soft. 
 
 To their protection more engaging Man. 
 
 O may their eyes no miserable sight. 
 
 585 
 

 Female Employments. 
 
 f- -f vww'.^vv'.Av^v'^ ^ 
 
 
 Save weeping lovers, see j 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 ; 590 
 
 And, fashion’d all to harmony, alone 
 Know they to seize the captivated soul. 
 
 In rapture warbled from love-breathing lips 5 
 To teach the lute to languish ; with smooth step. 
 Disclosing motion in its every charm, 595 
 
 To swim along, and swell the mazy dance ; 
 
 To train the foliage o’er the snowy lawn 5 
 To guide the pencil, turn the tuneful pagej 
 To lend new flavour to the fruitliil year. 
 
 And heighten Nature’s dainties; in their race 600 
 To rear their graces into second life; 
 
 To give Society its highest taste ; 
 
 I Well-order’d Home Man’s best delight to make ; 
 
 And by submissive wisdom, modest skill. 
 
 With every gentle care-eluding art, 605 
 
 To raise the virtues, animate the bliss. 
 
 And sweeten all the toils of human life : 
 
 This be the female dignity, and praise. 
 
 Ye swains, now hasten to the hazel-bank; 
 
212 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Nutting described, — Various Fruits. 
 
 
 
 Where, down yon dale, the wildly-winding brook 610 
 Falls hoarse from steep to steep. In close array. 
 
 Fit for the thickets and the tangling shrub. 
 
 Ye virgins, come. For you their latest song 
 The woodlands raise the clustering nuts for you 
 The lover finds amid the secret shades 615 
 
 And, where they burnish on the topmost bough. 
 
 With active vigour crushes down the tree j 
 Or shakes them ripe from the resigning husk, 
 
 A glossy shower, and of an ardent brown. 
 
 As are the ringlets of Melinda’s hair ; 620 
 
 Melinda! form’d with every grace complete j 
 Yet these neglecting, above beauty wise. 
 
 And far transcending such a vulgar praise. 
 
 Hence from the busy joy-resounding fields. 
 
 In cheerful error, let us tread the maze 625 
 
 Of Autumn, unconfin’d j and taste, reviv’d. 
 
 The breath of orchard big with bending fruit. 
 Obedient to the breeze and beating ray. 
 
 From the deep-loaded bough a mellow shower 
 Incessant melts away. The juicy pear 630 
 
 Lies, in a soft profusion, scatter’d round. 
 
 A various sweetness swells the gentle race> 
 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 213 
 
 Various Fruits.— Mr. Dodiiigton’s seat 
 
 By Nature’s all-refining hand prepar’d j 
 Of temper’d sun, and water, earth, and air. 
 
 In ever-changing composition mixt.' 635 
 
 Such, falling frequent through the chiller night. 
 
 The fi’agrant stores, the wide-projected heaps 
 Of apples, which the lusty-handed year, 
 
 Innumerous, o’er the blushing orchard shakes. 
 
 A various spirit, fresh, delicious, keen, 640 
 
 Dwells in their gelid pores ! and, active, points 
 The piercing cider for the thirsty tongue: 
 
 Thy native theme, and boon inspirer too. 
 
 Philips, Pomona’s bard, the second thou 
 
 Who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfetter’d verse, 645 
 
 With British freedom sing the British song: 
 
 How, from Silurian vats, high-sparkling wines 
 Foam in transparent floods 3 some strong, to cheer 
 The wintry revels of the labouring hind; 
 
 And tasteful some, to cool the summer hours. 650 
 In this glad season, while his sweetest beams 
 The sun sheds equal o’er the meeken’d day; 
 
 Oh lose me in the green delightful walks 
 Of, Dodington, thy seat, serene, and plain; 
 
 Where simple Nature reigns : and every view, 655 
 
 
 ■ 4 - 
 
S214 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 'V' -nTt*'-' 
 
 
 
 The Seat of Mr. Dodington described. 
 
 
 Diffusive, spreads the pure Dorsetian downs. 
 
 In boundless prospect: yonder shagg’d with wood. 
 Here rich with harvest, and there white with flocks ! 
 Meantime the grandeur of thy lofty dome 
 Far-splendid, seizes on the ravish’d eye. 660 
 
 New beauties rise with each revolving day j 
 New columns swell j 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, 660 
 For virtuous Young and thee they twine the bay. 
 
 Here wandering oft, fir’d with the restless thirst 
 Of thy applause, I solitary court 
 Th’ inspiring breeze : and meditate the book 
 Of Nature ever open ; aiming thence, 670 
 
 Warm from the 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 5 the shining plum ; 675 
 
 The ruddy fragrant nectarine ; and dark. 
 
 Beneath his ample leaf, the luscious fig. 
 
 The vine too here her curling tendrils shoots ; 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 215 
 
 
 r ^ ^ ^ 
 
 A Vineyard described. 
 
 Hangs out her clusters, glowing to the south j 
 And scarcely wishes for a warmer sky. 6S0 
 
 Turn we a moment Fancy’s rapid flight 
 To vigorous soils, and climes of fair extent ; 
 
 Where, by the potent sun elated high. 
 
 The vineyard swells refulgent on the day j 
 
 Spreads o’er the vale ; or up the mountain climbs, 685 
 
 Profuse 5 and drinks amid the sunny rocks. 
 
 From cliff to cliff increas’d, the heighten’d blaze. 
 
 Low bend the weighty boughs. The clusters clear. 
 Half through the foliage seen, or ardent flame. 
 
 Or shine transparent j while perfection breathes 690 
 White o’er the turgent film the living dew. 
 
 As thus they brighten with exalted juice. 
 
 Touch’d into flavour by the mingling ray j 
 The rural youth and virgins o’er the field. 
 
 Each fond foi* each to cull th’ autumnal prime, 695 
 Exulting rove, and speak the vintage nigh. 
 
 Then comes the crushing swain j the country floats. 
 And foams unbounded with the mashy flood j 
 That by degrees fermented, and refin’d. 
 
 Round the rais’d nation pours the cup of joy : 700 
 
 The claret smooth, red as the lip we press 
 
216 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 r 4 
 
 
 Autumnal Fogs. 
 
 In sparkling fancy, while we drain the bowl j 
 The mel low-tasted burgundy j and quick, 
 
 As is the wit it gives, the gay champaign. 
 
 Now, by the cool declining year condens’d, 705 
 Descend the copious exhalations j check’d 
 As up the middle sky unseen they stole j 
 And roll the doubling fogs around the hill. 
 
 No more the mountain, honid, vast, sublime. 
 
 Who pours a sweep of rivers from his sides, 7 10 
 
 And high between contending kingdoms rears 
 The rocky long division, fills the view 
 With great variety j but in a night 
 Of gathering vapour, from the baffled sense 
 Sinks dark and dreary. Thence expanding far, 715 
 The huge dusk, gradual, swallows up the plain: 
 Vanish the woods ; the dim-seen river seems 
 Sullen, and slow, to roll the misty wave. 
 
 E’en in the height of noon opprest, the sun 
 
 Sheds weak, and blunt, his wide-refracted rayj 720 
 
 Whence glaring oft, with many a broadened orb. 
 
 He frights the nations. Indistinct on earth. 
 
 Seen through the turbid air, beyond the life 
 Objects appear; and, wilder’d, o’er the waste 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 2ir 
 
 The shepherd stalks gigantic. Till at last 725 
 
 Wreath’d dun around, in deeper circles still 
 Successive closing, sits the general fog 
 Unbounded o’er the world; and, mingling thick, 
 
 A formless grey confusion covers all. 
 
 As when of old (so sung the Hebrew Bard) 730 
 Light, uncollected, through the chaos urg’d 
 Its infant way; nor Order yet had drawn 
 His lovely train from out the dubious gloom. 
 
 These roving mists, that constant now begin 
 To smoke along the hilly country, these, 735 
 
 With weighty rains, and melted Alpine snows. 
 
 The mountain-cisterns fill, those ample stores 
 Of water, scoop’d among the hollow rocks ; 
 
 Whence gush the streams, the ceaseless fountains play, 
 And their unfailing wealth the rivers draw. 740 
 
 Some sages say, that where the numerous wave 
 For ever lashes the resounding shore. 
 
 Drill’d through the sandy stratum, eveiy way. 
 
 The waters with the sandy stratum rise ; 
 
 Amid whose angles infinitely strain’d, 745 
 
 They joyful leave their jaggy salts behind. 
 
 And clear and sweeten, as they soak along. 
 
 Autumnal Rains. 
 
 

 21S 
 
 Nor stops the restless fluid, mounting still. 
 
 Though oft amidst th’ irriguous vale it springs j 
 But to the mountain courted by the sand, 750 
 
 That leads it darkling on in faithful maze. 
 
 Far from the parent main, it boils again 
 Fresh into dayj and all the glittering hill 
 Is bright with spouting rills. But hence this vain 
 Amusive dream ! why should the waters love 755 
 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 j why should they sudden stop 7 60 
 Among the broken mountain’s rushy dells. 
 
 And, ere they gain its highest peak, desert 
 
 Th’ attractive sand that charm’d their course so long ? 
 
 Besides, the hard agglomerating salts. 
 
 The spoil of ages, would impervious choke 765 
 
 Their secret channels 5 or, by slow degrees. 
 
 High as the hills protrude the swelling vales; 
 
 Old Ocean too, suck’d through the porous globe. 
 
 Had long ere now forsook his horrid bed. 
 
 And brought Deucalion’s watry times again. 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Autumnal Rains. 
 
 770 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 219 
 
 The watery Deeps described. 
 
 
 
 Say then, where lurk the vast eternal springs. 
 
 That, like creating Nature, lie conceal’d 
 From mortal eye, yet with their lavish stores 
 Refresh the globe, and all its joyous tribes ? 
 
 O, thou pervading Genius, given to Man, 775 
 
 To trace the secrets of the dark abyss ! 
 
 O ! lay the mountains bare j and wide display 
 
 Their hidden structure to th’ astonish’d view j 
 
 Strip from the branching Alps their piny load j 
 
 The huge incumbrance of horrific woods 780 
 
 From Asian Taurus, from Imaus stretch’d 
 
 Athwart the roving Tartar’s sullen bounds 3 
 
 Give opening Hemus to my searching eye. 
 
 And high Olympus pouring many a stream. 
 
 O from the sounding summits of the north, 785 
 
 The Dofrine Hills, through Scandinavia roll’d 
 
 To farthest Lapland and the fi’ozen main 3 
 
 From lofty Caucasus, far seen by those 
 
 Who in the Caspian and black Euxine toil 3 
 
 From cold Riphean Rocks, which the wild Russ 790 
 
 Believes the stony girdle of the world 3 
 
 And all the dreadful mountains, wrapt in storm. 
 
 Whence wide Siberia draws her lonely floods 3 
 
220 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 0 sweep th* eternal snows, hung o’er the deep, 
 
 That ever works beneath his sounding base. 795 
 Bid Atlas, propping heaven, as poets feign. 
 
 His subterraneous wonders spread; unveil 
 The miny caverns, blazing on the day. 
 
 Of Abyssinia’s cloud-compelling chfFs, 
 
 And of the bending Mountains of the Moon ! 800 
 
 O’ertopping all these giant-sons of earth. 
 
 Let the dire Andes, from the radiant Line 
 Stretch’d to the stormy seas that thunder round 
 The southern pole, their hideous deeps unfold. 
 
 Amazing scene ! Behold! the glooms disclose; 805 
 
 1 see the rivers in their infant beds ! 
 
 Deep, deep I hear them, labouring to get free ! 
 
 I see the leaning strata, artful rang’d; 
 
 The gaping fissures to receive the rains. 
 
 The melting snows, and ever-dripping fogs. 810 
 
 Strow’d bibulous above I see the sands. 
 
 The pebbly gravel next, the layers then 
 Of mingled moulds, of more retentive earths, 
 
 The gutter’d rocks, and mazy-running clefts ; 
 
 % 
 
 That, while the stealing moisture they transmit, 815 
 Retard its motion, and forbid its waste. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 221 
 
 Emigration of Birds. 
 
 
 
 Beneath th’ incessant weeping of these drains, 
 
 I see the rocky syphons stretch’d immense } 
 
 The mighty reservoirs of harden’d chalk. 
 
 Or stiff compacted clay, capacious form’d. 820 
 
 O’erflowing thence, the congregated stores. 
 
 The crystal treasures of the liquid world. 
 
 Through the stirr’d sands a bubbling passage burst. 
 And welling out, around the middle steep, 
 
 Or from the bottoms of the bosom’d hills, 825 
 
 In pure efiusion flow. United, thus, 
 
 Th’ exhaling sun, the vapour-burden’d air. 
 
 The gelid mountains, that to rain condens’d 
 These vapours in continual current draw. 
 
 And send them, o’er the fair-divided earth, 830 
 
 In bounteous rivers to the deep again j 
 A social commerce hold, and firm support 
 The full-adjusted harmony of things. 
 
 When Autumn scatters his departing gleams. 
 
 Warn’d of approaching Winter, gather’d, play 835 
 The swallow-people j and toss’d wide around/ 
 
 O’er the calm sky, in convolution swift. 
 
 The feathered eddy floats : rejoicing once. 
 
 Ere to their wintry slumbers they retire j 
 

 
 >■ r-^.f'r 4 
 
 Emigration of Birds. 
 
 
 In clusters clung, beneath the mouldering bank, 840 
 And where, unpierc’d by frost, the cavern sweats. 
 
 Or rather into warmer climes convey’d. 
 
 With other kindred birds of season, there 
 They twitter cheerful, till the vernal months 
 Invite them welcome back : for, thronging, now 845 
 Innumerous wings are in commotion all. 
 
 Where the Rhine loses his majestic force 
 In Belgian plains, won from the raging deep. 
 
 By diligence amazing, and the strong 
 Unconquerable hand of Liberty, 850 
 
 Tlie stork-assembly meets j for many a day. 
 
 Consulting deep, and various, ere they take 
 Their arduous voyage through the liquid sky. 
 
 And now their route design’d, their leaders chose. 
 Their tribes adjusted, clean’d their vigorous wings j 855 
 And many a circle, many a short essay. 
 
 Wheel’d round and round, in congregation full 
 The figur’d flights ascend j and, riding high 
 Th’ aerial billows, mixes with the clouds. 
 
 Or where the Northern ocean, in vast whirls, 860 
 Boils round the naked melancholy isles 
 Of farthest Thule, and th’ Atlantic surge 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 223 
 
 Caledoaia described. 
 
 Pours in among the stormy Hebrides j 
 
 Who can recount what transmigrations there 
 
 Are annual made? what nations come and go? 865 
 
 And how the living clouds on clouds arise ? 
 
 Infinite wings ! till all the plume-dark air. 
 
 And rude resounding shore, are one wdld cry. 
 
 Here the plain harmless native, his small flock. 
 
 And herd diminutive of many hues, 870 
 
 Tends on the little island’s verdant swell. 
 
 The shepherd’s sea-girt reign 3 or, to the rocks 
 Dire-clinging, gathers his ovarious food; 
 
 Or sweeps the fishy shore j or treasures up 
 The plumage, rising full, to form the bed 8*5 
 
 Of luxury. And here a while the Muse, 
 High-hovering o’er the broad cerulean scene. 
 
 Sees Caledonia, in romantic view ; 
 
 Her airy mountains, from the waving main. 
 
 Invested with a keen diffusive sky, 880 
 
 Breathing the soul acute j her forests huge. 
 
 Incult, robust, and tall, by Nature’s hand 
 Planted of oldj her azure lakes between. 
 
 Pour’d out extensive, and of watery wealth 
 
 Full; winding deep, and green, her fertile vales } 885 
 

 r f fsT -r 4 
 
 Calwlonia lUscribcd. 
 
 With many a cool, translucent, brimming flood 
 Wash’d lovely, from the Tweed (pure parent stream. 
 Whose past’ral banks first heard my Doric reed. 
 
 With, silvan Jed, thy tributary brook) 
 
 To where the north-inflated tempest foams 890 
 
 O’er Orca’s or Betubium’s highest peak : 
 
 Nurse of a people, in misfortune’s school 
 
 Train’d up to hardy deeds j soon visited 
 
 By Learning, when before the Gothic rage 
 
 She took her western flight. A manly race, 895 
 
 Of unsubmitting spirit, wise and brave j 
 
 Who still through bleeding ages struggled hard, 
 
 (As well unhappy Wallace can attest. 
 
 Great patriot hero ! ill-requited chief !) 
 
 To hold a generous undiminish’d state j 900 
 
 Too much in vain! Hence of unequal bounds 
 Impatient, and by tempting glory borne 
 O’er every land j for every land their life 
 Has flow’d profuse, their piercing genius plann’d. 
 
 And s well’d the pomp of peace their faithful toil, 905 
 As from their own clear north, in radiant streams. 
 Bright over Europe bursts the Boreal Morn. 
 
 Oh is there not some patriot, in whose power 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 225 
 
 
 Cbaraster of the Duke of Argyle. 
 
 That best, that godlike Luxury is plac’d. 
 
 Of blessing thousands, thousands yet unborn, 910 
 Through late posterity? some, large of soul. 
 
 To cheer dejected industry ? to give 
 A double harvest to the pining swain ? 
 
 And teach the lab’ring hand the sweets of toil ? 
 
 How, by the finest art, the native robe 915 
 
 To weave 3 how, white as hyperborean snow. 
 
 To form the lucid lawn 3 with vent’rous oar 
 How to dash wide the billow 3 nor look on. 
 
 Shamefully passive, while Batavian fleets 
 
 Defraud us of the glittering finny swarms, 920 
 
 That heave our friths, and crowd upon our shores ? 
 
 How all-enlivening ti’ade to rouse, and wing 1 
 
 The prosperous sail, from every growing port, 
 
 Uninjui’d, round the sea-encircled globe 3 
 
 And thus, in soul united as in name, 925 
 
 Bid Britain reign the mistress of the deep? 
 
 Yes, there are such. And full on thee, Argyle, 
 
 Her hope, her stay, her darling, and her boast, 
 
 From her first patriots and her heroes sprung. 
 
 Thy fond imploring Country turns her eye 3 
 In thee, with all a mother’s triumph, sees 
 
 p 
 
 930 
 
226 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Her every virtue, every grace combin’d •, 
 
 Her genius, wisdom, her engaging turn j 
 Her pride of honour, and her courage try’d. 
 
 Calm, and intrepid, in the very throat 935 
 
 Of sulph’rous war, on Tenier’s dreadful field. 
 
 Nor less the palm of peace inwreaths thy brow : 
 
 For, powerful as thy sword, from thy rich tongue 
 Persuasion flows, and wins the high debate 5 
 While mix’d in thee combine the charm of youth, 940 
 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, 945 
 Hann’d by thy wisdom, by thy soul inform’d; 
 
 And seldom has she known a friend like thee. 
 
 But see the fading many-colour’d woods. 
 
 Shade deepening over shade, the country round 
 Imbrown ; a crowded umbrage, dusk, and dun, 950 
 Of every hue, from wan declining green 
 To sooty dark. These now the lonesome Muse, 
 Low-whispering, lead into their leaf-strown walks. 
 And give the season in its latest view. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 227 
 
 Winter Walks. 
 
 Meantime, light-shadowing all, a sober calm 955 
 Fleeces unbounded ether 3 whose least wave 
 Stands tremulous, uncertain where to turn 
 The gentle current : while illumin’d wide, 
 
 Tlie dewy-skirted clouds imbibe the sun. 
 
 And through their lucid veil his softened force 960 
 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 3 
 To tread low-thoughted vice beneath their feet 3 965 
 
 To sooth the throbbing passions into peace 3 
 And woo lone Quiet in her silent walks. 
 
 Thus solitary, and in pensive guise. 
 
 Oft let me wander o’er the russet mead. 
 
 And thro’ the sadden’d grove, where scarce is heard 970 
 One dying strain, to cheer the woodman’s toil. 
 
 Haply some widowed songster pours his plaint. 
 
 Far, in faint warblings, through the tawny copse, 
 While congregated thmshes, linnets, larks. 
 
 And each wild throat, whose artless strains so late 975 
 Swell’d all the music of the swarming shades. 
 
AUTUMN 
 
 ^2S 
 
 r s ^ 
 
 
 Winter Walks. 
 
 
 r> 
 
 Robb’d of their tuneful souls, now shivering sit 
 On the dead tree, a dull despondent flock 5 
 With not a brightness waving o’er their plumes. 
 
 And nought save chattering discord in their note. 980 
 O let not, aim!d from some inhuman eye. 
 
 The gun, the music of the coming year 
 Destroys and harmless', unsuspecting harm. 
 
 Lay the weak tribes,- a miserable prey. 
 
 In mingled murder, fluttering on the ground. 985 
 The pale descending year, yet pleasing still, 
 
 A gentler mood inspires j for now the leaf 
 Incessant rustles from the mournful grove j 
 Oft startling such as, studious, walk below. 
 
 And slowly circles through the waving air. 990 
 
 But should a quicker breeze amid the boughs 
 Sob, o’er the sky the leafy deluge streams j 
 Till choak’d and matted with the dreary shower. 
 
 The forest-walks, at every rising gale. 
 
 Roll wide the wither’d waste, and whistle bleak. 995 
 Fled is the blasted verdure of the fields j 
 And, shrunk into their beds, the flowery race 
 Their sunny robes resign. Ev’n what remain’d 
 
 t 
 

 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Melancholy. 
 
 
 529 
 
 Of stronger fruits, falls from the naked tree ; 
 
 And woods, fields, gardens, orchards, all around 1000 
 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, 1005 
 
 The soften’d feature, and the beating heart. 
 
 Pierc’d deep with many a virtuous pang, declare. 
 
 O’er all the soul his sacred influence breathes ! 
 
 Inflames imagination ^ through the breast 
 
 Infuses every tenderness j and far 1010 
 
 Beyond dim earth exalts the swelling thought. 
 
 Ten thousand thousand fleet ideas, such 
 As never mingled vdth the vulgar dream. 
 
 Crowd fast into the Mind’s creative eye. 
 
 As fast the correspondent passions rise, 1015 
 
 ( 
 
 As varied, and as high': devotion rais’d 
 To rapture, and divine astonishment j 
 The love of Nature unconfin’d, and, chief. 
 
 Of human race 3 the large ambitious wish. 
 
 To make them blest 5 the sigh for suffering worth 
 Lost in obscurity 5 the noble scorn 
 
 4 
 
 B 
 
 V 
 
 kl 
 
230 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Stowe Gardens described. 
 
 
 Of tyrant pride j the fearless great resolve j 
 The wonder which the dying patriot draws. 
 
 Inspiring glory through remotest timej 
 
 Th’ awakened throb for virtue, and for fame j 1025 
 
 The sympathies of love, and friendship dear ; 
 
 I 
 
 With all the social Offspring of the heart. 
 
 Oh bear me then to vast embowering shades. 
 
 To twilight groves, and visionary vales ; 
 
 To weeping grottoes, and prophetic glooms j 1030 
 Where angel-forms athwart the solemn dusk 
 Tremendous sweep, or seem to sweep along j 
 And voices more than human, through the void 
 Deep -sounding, seize th’ enthusiastic ear. 
 
 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 seesj 
 O lead me to the wide-extended walks. 
 
 The fair majestic paradise of Stowe ! 1040 
 
 Not Persian Cyrus on Ionia’s shore 
 
 E’er saw such silvan scenes j such various art 
 
 By genius fir’d, such ardent genius tam’d 
 
 By cool judicious artj that, in the strife. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 231 
 
 Stowe Gardens described. 
 
 % 
 
 All-beauteous Nature fears to be outdone. 1045 
 
 And there, O Pitt ! thy country’s early boast. 
 
 There let me sit beneath the shelter’d slopes. 
 
 Or in that Temple where, in future times. 
 
 Thou well shalt merit a distinguish’d namej 
 
 And, with thy converse blest, catch the last smiles 1050 
 
 Of Autumn beaming o’er the yellow w'oods. 
 
 While there with thee th’ enchanted round I walk, , 
 
 The regulated wild ; gay Fancy then 
 
 W^ill tread in thought the groves of Attic Land ^ 
 
 W^ill from thy standard taste refine her own, 1055 
 Correct her pencil to the purest truth 
 Of Nature, or, the unimpassion’d shades 
 Forsaking, raise it to the human mind. 
 
 Or if hereafter she, with juster hand. 
 
 Shall draw the tragic scene, instruct her thou, 1060 
 To mark the varied movements of the heart, 
 
 W hat every decent character requires. 
 
 And every passion speaks : O through her strain 
 Breathe thy pathetic eloquence ! that moulds 
 Th’ attentive senate, charms, persuades, exalts 3 1065 
 
 Of honest zeal th’ indignant lightning throws. 
 
 And shakes cormption on her venal throne. 
 
232 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 IMoou- Light. 
 
 While thus we talk, and through Elysian Vales 
 Delighted rove, perhaps a sigh escapes : 
 
 What pity, Cobham, thou thy verdant files 1070 
 
 Of ordered trees should’st here inglorious range. 
 Instead of squadrons flaming o’er the field. 
 
 And long embattled hosts j when the proud foe. 
 
 The faithless vain disturber of mankind. 
 
 Insulting Gaul, has rous’d the world to war ; 1075 
 
 When keen, once more, within their bounds to press 
 Those polish’d robbers, those ambitious slaves. 
 
 The British Youth would hail thy wise command. 
 Thy temper’d ardour and thy vet’ran skill. 
 
 The western sun withdraws the shortened day ; 1080 
 And humid evening, gliding o’er the sky. 
 
 In her chill progress, to the ground condens’d 
 The vapours throws. Where creeping w^aters ooze. 
 Where marshes stagnate, and where rivers wind. 
 Cluster the rolling fogs, and swim along 1085 
 
 The dusky-mantled lawn. Meanwhile the moon 
 Fidl-orb’d, and breaking through the scatter’d clouds. 
 Shows her broad visage in the crimson’d east^ 
 
 Turn’d to the sun direct, her spotted disk. 
 
 Where mountains rise, umbrageous dales descend. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 233 
 
 
 Northern Lights. 
 
 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 the pure ceinilean rides sublime. 1095 
 
 Wide the pale deluge floats } and streaming mild 
 O’er the sky’d 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. 1100 
 
 But when half-blotted from the sky her light. 
 Fainting, permits the starry fires to burn 
 With keener lustre through the depth of heaven 3 
 Or near extinct her deadened orb appears. 
 
 And scarce appears, of sickly beamless white} 1105 
 Oft in this season, silent from the north 
 A blaze of meteors shoots : ensweeping first 
 The lower skies, they all at once converge 
 High to the crown of heaven, and all at once 
 Relapsing quick, as quickly reascend, 1110 
 
 And mix, and thwart, extinguish, and renew. 
 
 All ether coursing in a maze of light. 
 
 From look to look, contagious through the crowd. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 231 
 
 The panic runs, and into wondrous shapes 
 Th’ appearance throws: armies in meet array, 1115 
 Throng’d with aerial spears, and steeds of firej 
 Till the long lines of full-extended war 
 In bleeding fight commixt, the sanguine flood 
 Rolls a broad slaughter o’er the plains of heaven. 
 
 As thus they scan the visionary scene, 1120 
 
 On all sides swells the superstitious din, 
 
 Incontinent 3 and busy frenzy talks 
 
 Of blood and battle j cities overturn’d j 
 
 And late at night in swallowing earthquake sunk, 
 
 Or hideous wrapt in fierce ascending flame j 1125 
 
 Of sallow famine, inundation, storm j 
 
 Of pestilence, and every great distress j 
 
 Empires subvers’d, when ruling fate has struck 
 
 Th’ unalterable hour : ev’n Nature’s self 
 
 Is deem’d to totter on the brink of time. 1130 
 
 Not so the Man of philosophic eye. 
 
 And inspect sagej the waving brightness he 
 Curious surveys, inquisitive to know 
 The causes and materials, yet unfix’d. 
 
 Of this appearance beautiful and new. 1135 
 
 Now black, and deep, the night begins to fall. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 235 
 
 
 
 
 
 A benighted Traveller. 
 
 A shade immense! Sunk in the quenching gloom, 
 Magnificent and vast, are heaven and earth. 
 
 Order confounded lies j all beauty void j 
 Distinction lost; and gay variety 1140 
 
 One universal blot : such the fair power 
 Of light, to kindle and create the whole. 
 
 % 
 
 Drear is the state of the benighted wretch. 
 
 Who then, bewilder’d, wanders through the dark. 
 
 Full of pale fancies, and chimeras huge; 1145 
 
 Nor visited by one directive ray. 
 
 From cottage streaming, or from aiiy hall. 
 
 Perhaps impatient as he stumbles on. 
 
 Struck from the root of slimy rushes, blue. 
 
 The wild-fire scatters round ; or gathered trails 1150 
 A length of flame deceitful o’er the moss : 
 
 Whither decoy’d by the fantastic blaze. 
 
 Now lost and now renew'd, he sinks absorpt, 
 
 Rider and horse, amid the miry gulph ; 
 
 While still, from day to day, his pining wife, 1155 
 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. 
 
 
 
236 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 
 The meteor sits ; and shows the narrow path, - 1 160 
 That winding leads through pits of death, or else 
 Instmcts him how to take the dangerous ford. 
 
 The lengthened night elaps’d, the morning shines 
 Serene, in all her dewy beauty bright 3 
 Unfolding fair the last autumnal day. 
 
 And now the mounting sun dispels the fogj 
 The rigid hoar-frost melts before his beam 3 
 And hung on eveiy spray, on every blade 
 Of grass, the myriad dew-drops twinkle round. 
 
 Ah see where robb’d, and murder’d, in that pit 
 Lies the still heaving hive ! at evening snatch’d. 
 Beneath the cloud of guilt-concealing night. 
 
 And fix’d o’er sulphur : while, not dreaming ill. 
 
 The happy people, in their waxen cells. 
 
 Sat tending public cares, and planning schemes 
 Of tempemnee, for Winter poor 3 rejoic’d 
 To mark, full flowing round, their copious stores. 
 Sudden the dark oppressive steam ascends 3 
 And, us’d to milder scents, the tender race. 
 
 By thousands, tumble from their honeyed domes, 1180 
 Convolv’d, and agonizing in the dust. 
 
 And was it then for this you roam’d the Spring, 
 
 1165 
 
 1170 
 
 1175 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 237 
 
 Intent from flower to flower j for tliis you toil’d 
 Ceaseless the burning Summer-heats away? 
 
 For this in Autumn search’d the blooming waste, 1 185 
 Nor lost one sunny gleam, for this sad fate? 
 
 O Man ! tyrannic lord ! how long, how long. 
 
 Shall prostrate Nature groan beneath your rage. 
 Awaiting renovation ? When oblig’d. 
 
 Must you destroy ? Of their ambrosial food 1190 
 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 1195 
 
 Looks desolate, and wild) with here and there 
 A helpless number, who the ruin’d state 
 Survive, lamenting weak, cast out to death. 
 
 Thus a proud city, populous and rich. 
 
 Full of the works of peace, and high in joy, 1200 
 At theatre or feast, or sunk in sleep, 
 
 (As late, Palermo, was thy fate) is seiz’d 
 By some dread earthquake; and convulsive hurl’d 
 Sheer from the black foundation, stench-involv’d. 
 
 Into a gulph of blue sulphureous flame. 1205 
 
236 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 A Country Life described. 
 
 Hence every harsher sight ! for now the day. 
 
 O’er heaven and earth diffus’d, grows warm, and high ; 
 Infinite splendour! wide investing all. 
 
 How still the breeze ! save what the filmy thread 
 Of dew evaporate brushes from the plain. 1210 
 
 How clear the cloudless sky! how deeply ting’d 
 With a peculiar blue! the ethereal arch 
 How swell’d immense ! amid whose azure thron’d 
 The radiant sun how gay ! how calm below 
 The gilded earth! the harvest- treasures all 1215 
 
 Now gather’d in, beyond the rage of storms. 
 
 Sure to the swain; the circling fence shut up; 
 
 And instant Winter’s utmost rage defy’d. 
 
 While, loose to festive joy, the country round 
 Laughs with the loud sincerity of mirth, 1220 
 
 Shook to the wind their cares. The toil-strung youth, 
 By the quick sense of music taught alone. 
 
 Leaps wildly graceful in the lively dance. 
 
 Her every charm abroad, the viUage-toast, 
 
 Young, buxom, warm, in native beauty rich, 1225 
 Darts not-unmeaning looks ; and, where her eye 
 Points an approving smile, with double force 
 The cudgel rattles, and the wrestler twines. 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 239 
 
 A Country Life described. 
 
 Age too shines out 3 and garrulous^ recounts 
 The feats of youth. Thus they rejoice 3 nor think 1230 
 That, with to-morrow’s sun, their annual toil 
 Begins again the never-ceasing round. 
 
 Oh knew he but his happiness, of Men 
 The happiest he ! who far from public rage. 
 
 Deep in the vale, with a choice Few retir’d, 1235 
 Drinks the pure pleasures of the Rural Life. 
 
 Wliat though the dome be wanting, whose proud gate, 
 Each morning, vomits out the sneaking crowd 
 Of flatterers false, and in their turn abus’d ? 
 
 Vile intercourse! What tho’ the glittering robe, 1240 
 Of every hue reflected light can give. 
 
 Or floating loose, or stiff with, mazy gold. 
 
 The pride and gaze of fools 1 oppress him not ? 
 
 What though, from utmost land and sea purvey’d. 
 
 For him each rarer tributary life 1245 
 
 Bleeds not, and his insatiate table heaps 
 With luxury, and death ? ' What though his bowl 
 Flames not with costly juice 3 nor sunk in beds. 
 
 Oft of gay care, he tosses out the night. 
 
 Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle state ? 1250 
 
240 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 A Country Life described. 
 
 
 
 What though he knows not those fantastic joys^ 
 
 That still amuse the wanton, still deceive ; 
 
 A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain; 
 
 Their hollow moments undelighted all? 
 
 Sure peace is his; a solid life, estrang’d 1255 
 
 To disappointment, and fallacious hope : 
 
 Rich in content, in Nature’s bounty rich, 
 
 In herbs and fruits; whatever greens the SprinD-, 
 When heaven descends in showers ; or bends the bough 
 When Summer reddens, and when Autumn beams; 1260 
 Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies 
 Conceal’d, and fattens with the richest sap : 
 
 These are not wanting; nor the milky d)ove. 
 Luxuriant, spread o’er all the lowing vale ; 
 
 Nor bleating mountains ; nor the cliide of streams, 
 And hum of bees, inviting sleep sincere 
 Into the guiltless breast, beneath the shade. 
 
 Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay; 
 
 Nor aught besides of prospect, grove, or song, 
 
 Dim grottoes, gleaming lakes, and fountain ch ar. 1270 
 Here too dwells simple truth; plain innocence; 
 Unsullied beauty ; sound unbroken youth. 
 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 ^41 
 
 Patient of labour, with a little pleas’d j 
 Health ever bloomings unambitious toil j 
 
 Calm contemplation, and poetic ease. 
 
 1275 
 
 Let others brave the flood in quest of gain. 
 And beat, for joyless months, the gloomy wave. 
 Let such as deem it glory to destroy. 
 
 Rush into blood, the sack of cities seek j 
 
 Unpierc’d, exulting in the widow’s wail. 
 
 1280 
 
 The virgin’s shriek, and infant’s trembling cry. 
 ILiet some, far distant from their native soil. 
 Urg’d or by want or hardened avarice. 
 
 Find other lands beneath another sun. 
 
 Let this through cities work his eager way, 1285 
 
 By legal outrage and establish’d guile. 
 
 The social sense extinct ; and that ferment 
 Mad into tumult the seditious herd. 
 
 Or melt them down to slavery. I^et these 
 
 Insnare the wretched in the toils of law 
 
 1290 
 
 Fomenting discord, and perplexing right. 
 An iron race ! and those of fairer front. 
 But equal inhumanity, in courts. 
 
 Delusive pomp, and dark cabals, delight j 
 
 a 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 842 
 
 
 
 Philosophic Life. 
 
 ^ -t f‘ .r r * ■* 
 
 
 Wreathe the deep bow, diffuse the lying smile, 1295 
 And tread the weary labyrinth of state. 
 
 While he, from all the stormy passions ft’ee 
 That restless Men involve, hears, and but hears. 
 
 At distance safe, the human tempest roar. 
 
 Wrapt close in conscious peace. The fall of kings. 
 The rage of nations, and the crush of states. 
 
 Move not the Man, who, from the world escap’d. 
 
 In still retreats, and flowery solitudes. 
 
 To Nature’s voice attends, from month to month. 
 
 And day to day, through the revolving year; 130S 
 Admiring, sees her in her every shape j 
 Feels all her sweet emotions at his heart j 
 Takes what she liberal gives, nor thinks of more. 
 
 He, when young Spring protrudes the bursting germs, 
 Marks the fii-st bud, and sucks the heathful gale 1310 
 Into his freshened soul ; her genial hours 
 He full enjoys ; and not a beauty blows. 
 
 And not an opening blossom breathes in vain. 
 
 In Summer he, beneath the living shade. 
 
 Such as o’er frigid Tempe wont to wave, 1315 
 
 Or Hemus cool, reads what the Muse, of these 
 
AUTUMN. 
 
 243 
 
 
 P 
 
 Philosophic Life. 
 
 vv^v 
 
 Perhaps, has in immortal numbers sung j 
 Or what she dictates, writes : and, oft an eye 
 Shot round, rejoices in the vigorous year. 
 
 When Autumn’s yellow lustre gilds the world, 1320 
 
 « 
 
 And tempts the sickled swain into the field. 
 
 Seiz’d by the general joy, his heart distends 
 With gentle throws j and through the tepid gleams 
 Deep musing, then he best exerts his song. 
 
 Even Winter wild to him is full of bliss. 132.*> 
 
 The mighty tempest, and the hoary waste. 
 
 Abrupt, and deep, stretch’d o’er the buried earth. 
 Awake to solemn thought. At night tlie skies. 
 Disclos’d and kindled by refining frost. 
 
 Pour every lustre on th’ exalted eye. 1330 
 
 A friend, a book, the stealing hours secure. 
 
 And mark them down for wisdom. With swift wing, 
 O’er land and sea imagination roams j 
 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 f 
 The modest eye, whose beams on his alone 
 Ecstatic shine 5 the little strong embrace 
 
 1335 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Philosophic Life. 
 
 Of prattling children, twin’d around his neck, 1340 
 
 And emulous to please him, calling forth 
 
 ITie fond parental soul. Nor purpose gay. 
 
 Amusement, dance, or song, he sternly scorns j 
 
 For happiness and true philosophy 
 
 Are of the social still, and smiling kind. 1345 
 
 This is the life which those who fret in guilt. 
 
 And guilty cities, never knew ; the life, 
 
 I..ed by primeval ages, uncorrupt, 
 
 When angels dwelt, and God himself, with Man. 
 
 Oh Nature ! all-sufficient ! over all ! 1350 
 
 Enrich me with the knowledge of thy works !. 
 
 Snatch me to heaven j thy rolling wonders there. 
 World beyond world, in infinite extent. 
 
 Profusely scatter’d o’er the blue immense. 
 
 Show mej their motions, periods, and their laws, 1355 
 Give me to scan j 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 j and higher still, the mind, 1360 
 
 The varied scene of quick-compounded thought. 
 
 And where the mixing passions endless shift ; 
 

 AUTUMN. 
 
 Philosophic Life. 
 
 245 
 
 
 These ever open to my ravish’d eye } 
 
 A search, the flight of time can ne’er exhaust. 
 
 But if to that unequal j if the blood, 1365 
 
 In sluggish streams about my heart, forbid 
 That best ambition j under closing shades. 
 
 Inglorious, lay me by the lowly brook. 
 
 And whisper to my dreams. From Thee begin, c. 
 Dwell all on Thee, with Thee conclude my song; 1370 
 And let me never never stray from Thee. : 
 
 uls 
 
 
 
 
 7 
 
 rfo 
 
 *{Yf ora dohn3 
 ♦i oJ am ri'jJsn?. 
 Ixfiowod blioW 
 
 idi srawodS 
 
 ■'.ri’t 
 
 ..n , >; 
 
 ol ora o'/iO 
 uiiid 1(01 Jil;§iJ 
 ''Tiooid tJaxndT 
 I ofit jfiiU 10*0 
 I , lioninisK) 
 looe bsiiEv sdT 
 ad? biiA 
 
 
 
 
 Jl 
 
 
 
 
THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 The subject proposed. — Address to the earl of Wilmington.— 
 First approach of Winter, — According to the natural course 
 of the season, various storms described. — Rain. — Wind. — 
 Snow. — ^The driving of the snows : a man perishing among 
 them ; whence reflections on the wants and miseries of hu- 
 man life. — The wolves descending from the Alps and Appe- 
 i nines. — A. winter evening described ; as spent by philosophers ; 
 
 by the country people ; in the city. — Frost. — A view of win- 
 ter within the polar circle. — A thaw.— The whole concluding 
 with moral reflections on a future state. 
 
WINTER. 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year 
 Sullen and sad, with all his rising train ; 
 
 Vapours, and Clouds, and Storms. Be these my theme ; 
 These ! that exalt the soul to solemn thought. 
 
 And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms ! 6 
 Congenial horrors, hail ! with frequent foot. 
 
 Pleas’d have I, in my cheerful morn of life. 
 
 When nurs’d by careless solitude I liv’d. 
 
 And sung of Nature with unceasing joy. 
 
 Pleas’d have I wander’d thro’ your rough domain j 10 
 Trod the pure virgin-snows, myself as pure j 
 Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst j 
 Or seen the deep fermenting tempest brew’d. 
 
 In the grim evening sky. Thus pass’d the tim^ 
 
WINTER. 
 
 Address to the Earl of Wilmiugton. 
 
 
 Till through the lucid chambers of the south 15 
 
 Look’d out the joyous Spring, look’d out, and smil’d. 
 
 To thee, the patron of her first essay. 
 
 The Muse, O Wilmington! renews her song. 
 
 Since has she rounded the revolving year, 
 
 Skim’d the gay Spring 5 on eagle-pinions borne, 
 Attempted through the Summer-blaze to rise 5 
 Then swept o’er Autumn with the shadowy gale j 
 And now among the wintry clouds again. 
 
 Roll'd in the doubling storm, she tries to soar ; 
 
 To swell her note with all the mshing winds j 26 
 To suit her sounding cadence to the floods j • 
 
 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 skill’d in awful schemes alone, 30 
 And how to make a mighty people thrive j 
 But equal goodness, sound integrity, 
 
 A firm unshaken uncorrupted soul 
 Amid a sliding age, and burning strong. 
 
 Not vainly blazing for thy country’s weal, 35 
 
 A steady spirit regularly free j 
 
 These, each exalting each, the statesman light 
 

 The Approach of Winter. — Its Effects on Man and Animals. 
 
 
 
 
 Into the patriot j these, the public hope 
 And eye to thee converting, bid the Muse 
 Record what en \7 dares not flattery call. 40 
 
 Now w hen the cheerless empire of the sky 
 To Capricorn the Centaur Archer yields. 
 
 And flerce Aquarius stains th’ inverted year ; 
 
 Hung o’er the farthest verge of heaven, the sun 
 Scarce spreads through ether the dejected day. 45 
 Faint are his gleams, and ineffectual shoot 
 His struggling rays, in horizontal lines. 
 
 Through the thick air j as cloth’d in cloudy storm, • 
 Weak, wan, and broad, he skirts the southern sky j 
 And, soon-descending to the long dark night, 50 
 Wide-shading all, the prostrate world resigns. 
 
 Nor is the night unwish’d; while vital heat. 
 
 Light, life, and joy, the dubious day forsake. 
 Mcantiiiie, in sable cincture, shadows vast, 
 
 Deep-ting’d and damp, and congregated clouds, 55 
 And all the vapoury turbulence of heaven. 
 
 Involve the face Of things. Thus Winter falls, 
 
 A heavy gloom oppressive o’er the world j 
 Through Nature shedding influence malign. 
 
 And rouses up the seeds of dark disease. 60 
 
552 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 The Effects of Winter on Man and Animals. 
 
 The soul of Man dies in him, loathing life. 
 
 And black with more than melancholy views. 
 
 The cattle droop j and o’er the furrowed land 
 Fresh from the plough, the dun discolour’d flocks. 
 Untended, spreading, crop the wholesome root. 65 
 Along the woods, along the moorish fens. 
 
 Sighs the sad Genius of the coming storm j \ ” 
 
 And up among the loose disjointed chfls, u/oiiaH 
 
 And fractur’d mountains wild, the brawling brook 
 And cave, presageful, send a hollow moan, . : ^70 
 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 vapour foul j A 
 Dash on the mountain’s brow, and shake the woods, 75 
 That grumbling wave below. The unsightly plain T 
 Lies a brown deluge j as the low-bent clouds o asdT 
 Pour flood on flood, yet unexhausted still .foJjtiD 
 Combine, and deepening into night, shut up Ai iwlsfll 
 The day’a fair face. The wanderers of heaven, JiOigO 
 Each to his home, retire 5 save those that love § y i^dT 
 To take their pastime in the troubled air 5 fShod ll 
 
 Or skimming flutter round the dimply pooh 
 
 f 
 
Winter Floo«l*. 
 
 
 The cattle from the untasted fields return. 
 
 And ask, with meaning low, their wonted stalls. So 
 Or ruminate in the contiguous shade. 
 
 Thither the household feathery people crowd. 
 
 The crested cock, with all his female train. 
 
 Pensive, and dripping j while the cottage-hind 
 Hangs o’er th’ enlivening blaze, and taleful there 90 
 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 swell’d. 
 And the mix’d ruin of its banks o’erspread, 95 
 
 At last the rous’d-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, 100 
 Calm, sluggish, silent ; till again, constrain’d . 
 
 Between two meeting hills, it bursts away, u-cnicv 
 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 ^ iti 
 
254 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 
 Signs of a Tempest. 
 
 
 Rolls round the Seasons of the changeful year. 
 
 How mighty, how mgyestic, are thy works ! 
 
 With what a pleasing dread they swell the soul ! 
 
 That sees astonish’d 1 and astonish’d sings! HO 
 
 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 reserv’d. 
 
 To swell the brooding terrors of the storm? 115 
 
 In what far distant region of the sky. 
 
 Hush’d 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, stain’d j red fiery streaks 120 
 Begin to flush around. The reeling clouds 
 Stagger with dizzy poize, as doubting yet 
 Which master to obey : w'hile rising slow. 
 
 Blank, in the leaden-colour’d east, the moon 
 W'^ears a wan circle round her blunted horns. 125 
 Seen through the turbid fluctuating air. 
 
 The stars obtuse emit a shiver’d ray 5 
 Or frequent seem to shoot athwart the gloom. 
 
 And long behind them trail the whitening blaze. 
 
WINTER. 
 
 255 
 
 Signs of a Tempest. 
 
 Snatch’d in short eddies, plays the withered leaf^ 130 
 And on the flood the dancing feather floats. 
 
 With broadened nostrils to the sky up-turn’d. 
 
 The conscious heifer snuffs the stormy gale. 
 
 Ev’n as the matron, at her nightly task. 
 
 With pensive labour draws the flaxen thread, 135 
 The wasted taper and the crackling flame 
 Foretell the blast. But chief the plumy race. 
 
 The tenants of the sky, its changes speak. 
 
 Retiring from the downs, where all day long 
 They pick’d their scanty fare, a blackening train 140 
 Of clamorous rooks thick-urge their weary flight. 
 
 And seek the closing shelter of the grove. 
 
 Assiduous, in his bower, the wailing owl 
 Plies his sad song. The cormorant on high 
 Wheels from the deep, and screams along the land. 145 
 Loud shrieks the soaring hernj and with wild wing 
 The circling sea-fowl cleave the flaky clouds. 
 
 Ocean, unequal press’d, with broken tide 
 And blind commotion heaves; while from the shore. 
 Eat into caverns by the restless wave, 150 
 
 And forest-rustling mountains, comes a voice. 
 
 That solemn sounding bids the world prepare. 
 
 y 
 
 
556 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 A Tempest described. 
 
 Then issues forth the storm with sudden burst. 
 
 And hurls the whole precipitated air, 
 
 Down, in a torrent. On the passive main 155 
 
 Descends th’ ethereal force, and with strong gust 
 Turns from its bottom the discolour’d deep. 
 
 Through the black night that sits immense around. 
 Lash’d into foam, the fierce conflicting brine 
 Seems o’er a thousand raging waves to burn: 160 
 
 Meantime the mountain-billows, to the clouds 
 In dreadful tumult swell’d, surge above surge. 
 
 Burst into chaos with tremendous roar. 
 
 And anchor’d navies from their stations drive. 
 
 Wild as the winds across the howling waste 165 
 
 Of mighty waters : no^v th^ inflated wave 
 Straining they scale, and now impetuous shoot 
 Into the secret chambers of the deep. 
 
 The wintry Baltic thundering o’er their head. 
 Emerging thence again, before the breath 170 
 
 Of full-exerted heaven they wing their course. 
 
 And dart on distant coasts j if some sharp rock. 
 
 Or shoal insidious, break not their career. 
 
 And in loose fragments fling them floating round. 
 
 Nor less at land the loosened tempest reigns. 175 
 
WINTER. 
 
 ^57 
 
 ^ ^-r r t- ^ ^ f- ^ ^ 9 -f~j- r ^ 
 
 A Tempest deecnbed. 
 
 The mountain thunders ; and its sturdy sons 
 Stoop to the bottom of the rocks they shade. 
 
 Lone on the midnight steep, and all aghast. 
 
 The dark way-faring stranger breathless toils. 
 
 And, often falling, climbs against the blast. ISO 
 
 Low waves the rooted forest, vex’d, and sheds 
 What of its tarnish’d honours yet remain j 
 Dash’d down, and scatter’d, by the tearing wind’s 
 Assiduous fury, its gigantic limbs. 
 
 Thus struggling through the dissipated grove, 185 
 The whirling tempest raves along the plain ; 
 
 And on the cottage tiiatch’d, or lordly roof. 
 Keen-fastening, shakes them to the solid base. 
 
 Sleep frighted flies ; and round the rocking dome. 
 
 For entrance eager, howls the savage blast. 190 
 
 Then too, they say, through all the burden’d air. 
 Long groans are heard, shrill sounds, and distant sighs. 
 That, utter’d by the Demon of the night, . ^ 
 
 Warn the devoted wretch of woe and death. 
 
 Huge uproar lords it wide. The clouds commix’d 
 With stars swift gliding sweep along the sky. 
 
 All Nature reels. Till Nature’s King, who oft 
 
 R 
 
 
^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ~r ^-r-^ r- f J'-*^ -f f ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Contemplation on Night. 
 
 Amid tempestuous darkness dwells alone. 
 
 And on tlie wings of the careering wind 
 
 Walks dreadfully serene, commands a calm j 200 
 
 Then straight air, sea, and earth, are hush’d at once. 
 
 As yet ’t is midnight deep. The weary clouds. 
 Slow-meeting, mingle into solid gloom. 
 
 Now, while the drowsy world lies lost in sleep. 
 
 Let me associate with the serious Night, 205 
 
 And Contemplation her sedate compeer j 
 Let me shake off th’ intrusive cares of day. 
 
 And lay the meddling senses all aside. 
 
 Where now, ye lying vanities of life ! 
 
 Ye ever-tempting ever-cheating train! 210 
 
 Where 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 past. 
 
 And broken slumbers, rises still resolv’d, 215 
 
 With new-flush’d hopes, to run the giddy round. 
 
 Father of light and life, thou Good supreme! 
 
 O teach me what is good! teach me Thyself! 
 
 Save me from folly, vanity, and vice. 
 
WINTER. 
 
 259 
 
 Snow described. 
 
 From every low pursuit j and feed my soul 220 
 
 With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure; 
 Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss ! 
 
 The keener tempests rise : and fuming dun 
 From all the livid east, or piercing north. 
 
 Thick clouds ascend ; in whose capacious womb 225 
 A vapoury deluge lies, to snow congeal’d. 
 
 Heavy they roll their fleecy world along; 
 
 And the sky saddens with the gathered storm. 
 
 Through the hush’d air the whitening shower descends. 
 At first thin wavering; till at last the flakes 230 
 Fall broad, and wide, and fast, dimming the day. 
 
 With a continual flow. The cherish’d fields 
 Put on their winter-robe of purest white. 
 
 ’Tis brightness all; save where the new snow melts 
 Along the mazy current. Low, the woods .235 
 
 Bow their hoar head ; and, ere the languid sun 
 Faint from the west emits his evening ray. 
 
 Earth’s universal face, deep hid, and chill. 
 
 Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide 
 The works of Man. Drooping, the labourer-ox 240 
 Stands cover’d o’er with snow, and then demands 
 Tlie fruit of all his toil. The fowls of heaven. 
 
260 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Tam’d by the cruel season, crowd around 
 The winnowing store, and claim the little boon 
 Which Providence assigns them. One alone, 245 
 The red-breast, 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, he first 250 
 
 Against the window beats j 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 255 
 
 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, 260 
 Urg’d on by fearless want. The bleating kind 
 Eye the bleak heaven, and next the glistening earth, 
 With looks of dumb despair; then, sad dispers’d. 
 
 Dig for the withered herb through heaps of snow. 
 
 Now, shepherds, to your helpless charge be kind; 
 
m 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 261 
 
 llunbaudman perishing in the Snow. 
 
 275 
 
 Baffle the raging year, and fill their pens 
 With food at will j 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 the whole wintry plains 270 
 At one wide waft 5 and o’er the hapless flocks. 
 
 Hid in the hollow of two neighbouring hills. 
 
 The billo^vy tempest whelms 5 till, upward urg’d. 
 
 The valley to a shining mountain swells, 
 
 Tipt with a wreath high-curling in the sky. 
 
 As thus the snows arise 5 and foul, and fierce. 
 
 All Winter drives along the darkened air ; 
 
 In his own loose-revolving fields, the swain 
 Disaster’d stands 5 sees other hills ascend. 
 
 Of unknown joyless browj 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 home 
 Rush on his nerves, and call their vigour forth 
 In many a vain attempt. How sinks his soul! 
 
 280 
 
 285 
 
 
262 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Husbandman perish.ng in the Snow. 
 
 * ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 What black despair, what horror fills his heart ! 
 
 When for the dusky spot, which fancy feign’d 290 
 His tufted cottage rising through the snow. 
 
 He meets the roughness of the middle waste. 
 
 Far from the track, and blest abode of Man 3 
 While round him night resistless closes fast. 
 
 And every tempest, howling o’er his head, 295 
 
 Renders the savage wilderness more wild. 
 
 Then throng the busy shapes into his mind. 
 
 Of cover’d pits, unfathomably deep, 
 
 A dire descent! beyond the power of frost] 
 
 Of faithless bogs 3 of precipices huge, 300 
 
 Smooth’d up with snow ; and, what is land, unknown. 
 What water, of the still unfrozen spring. 
 
 In the loose marsh or solitary lake. 
 
 Where the fresh fountain from the bottom boils. 
 
 These check his fearful steps j and down he sinks 305 
 Beneath the shelter of the shapeless drift. 
 
 Thinking o’er all the bitterness of death] 
 
 Mix’d with the tender anguish Nature shoots 
 Through the wrung bosom of the dying Man, 
 
 His wife, his children, and his friends unseen. 310 
 In vain for him th’ officious wife prepares 
 
W I N T E R. 
 
 -263 
 
 The various IIU of Life. 
 
 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! 315 
 
 Nor wife, nor children, more shall he behold ; 
 
 Nor friends, nor sacred home. On every nerve 
 The deadly winter seizes 5 shuts up sense ; 
 
 And, o’er his inmost vitals creeping cold. 
 
 Lays him along the snows, a stiffened corse} 3*20 
 Stretch’d out, and bleaching in the northern blast. 
 
 Ah little think the gay licentious proud. 
 
 Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround} 
 
 They, who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth. 
 
 And wanton, often cruel, riot waste} 3^5 
 
 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, 330 
 By shameful variance betwixt Man and Man. 
 
 How many pine in want, and dungeon glooms } 
 
 Shut from the common air, and common use \ 
 
2G4 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 
 Of their own limbs. How many drink the cup 
 Of baleful giief^ or eat the bitter bread 335 
 
 Of misery. Sore pierc’d by wintry 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; 340 
 Whence tumbled headlong from the height of life. 
 They furnish matter for the tragic Muse. 
 
 Ev’n in the vale where wisdom loves to dwell. 
 
 With friendship, peace, and contemplation join’d. 
 How many, rack’d with honest passions, droop 345 
 In deep retir’d distress. How many stand 
 Around the death-bed of their dearest friends, 
 
 And point the parting anguish. Thought fond Man 
 Of these, and all the thousand nameless ills. 
 
 That one incessant struggle render life, 350 
 
 One scene of toil, of suffering, and of fate ; 
 
 Vice in his high career ’would stand appall’d. 
 
 And heedless rambling Impulse learn to think; 
 
 The conscious heart of Charity would warm. 
 
 And her wide wish Benevolence dilate ; 
 
 
 355 
 
WINTER. 
 
 565 
 
 Miseries of a Prison. 
 
 The social tear would rise, the social sigh ; 
 
 And into clear perfection, gradual bliss. 
 
 Refining still, the social passions work. 
 
 And here can I forget the generous band. 
 
 Who, touch’d with human woe, redressive search’d 
 Into the horrors of the gloomy jail? 
 
 Unpitied, and unheard, where misery moans j 
 \^niiere sickness pines j where thirst and hunger burn, 
 And poor misfortune feels the lash of vice. 
 
 While in the land of liberty, the land 36a 
 
 Whose every street and public meeting glow 
 With open freedom, little tyrants rag’d 3 
 Snatch’d the lean morsel from the starving mouth 3 
 Tore from cold wintry limbs the tatter’d weed 3 
 
 t 
 
 Ev’n robb’d them of the last of comforts, sleep 3 370 
 
 The free-born Briton to the dungeon chain’d. 
 
 Or, as the lust of cruelty prevail’d. 
 
 At pleasure mark’d him with inglorious stripes; 
 
 And crush’d out lives, by secret barbarous ways. 
 
 That for their country would have toil’d, or bled. 375 
 O great design ! if executed well, / 
 
 With patient care, and wfisdom-temper’d zeal. 
 
 Ye sons of mercy ! yet resume the search 3 
 
 / 
 
266 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 WoWes descending from 
 
 Drag forth the legal monsters into light. 
 
 Wrench from their hands oppression’s iron rod, 380 
 And bid the cruel feel the pains they give. 
 
 Much still untouch’d remains j in this rank age. 
 Much is the patriot’s weeding hand requir’d. 
 
 The toils of law, (what dark insidious Men 
 
 Have cumbrous added to perplex the truth, 385 
 
 And lengthen simple justice into trade) 
 
 How glorious were the day! that saw these broke. 
 
 And every Man within the reach of right. 
 
 By wintry famine rous’d, from all the tract 
 Of horrid mountains which the shining Alps, 390 
 And wavy Appenine, and Pyrenees, 
 
 Branch out stupendous into distant lands 3 
 Cmel as death, and hungry as the grave ! 
 
 Burning for blood! bony, and gaunt, and grim! 
 Assembling wolves in raging troops descend j 395 
 And, pouring o’er the country, bear along. 
 
 Keen as the north-wind sweeps the glossy snow. 
 
 All is their prize. They fasten on the steed. 
 
 Press him to earth, and pierce his mighty heart. 
 
 Nor can the bull his awful front defend, 
 
 Or shake the murdering savages away. 
 
 400 
 
Rapacious, at the mother’s throat they fly. 
 
 And tear the screaming infant from her breast. 
 
 The godlike face of Man avails him nought. 
 
 Ev’n beauty, force divine ! at whose bright glance 405 
 The generous lion stands in softened gaze. 
 
 Here bleeds, a hapless undistinguish’d prey. 
 
 Rut if, appriz’d of the severe attack. 
 
 The country be shut up 5 lur’d by the scent. 
 
 On church-yards drear (inhuman to relate!) 
 
 The disappointed prowlers fall, and dig 
 
 The shrouded body from the grave; o’er which. 
 
 Mix’d with foul shades, and frighted ghosts, they howl. 
 
 Among those hilly regions, where embrac’d 
 In peaceful vales the happy Grisons dwell; 415 
 
 Oft, rushing sudden from the loaded cliffs. 
 
 Mountains of snow their gathering terrors roll. 
 
 From steep to steep, loud-thundering down they come, 
 A wintry waste in dire commotion all ; 
 
 And herds, and flocks, and travellers, and swains, 420 
 And sometimes whole brigades of marching troops 
 Or hamlets sleeping in the dead of night. 
 
 Are deep beneath the smothering ruin whelm’d. 
 
 Now, all amid the rigours of the year. 
 
 
*263 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Converse with the Kead. 
 
 In the wild depth of Winter, while without 
 The ceaseless winds blow ice, be niy retreat. 
 Between the groaning forest and the shore 
 Beat by the boundless multitude of w'aves, 
 
 A rural, shelter’d, solitary scene ; 
 
 Where ruddy fire and beaming tapers join 
 
 43 (^ 
 
 To cheer the gloom. There studious let me sit. 
 
 And hold high converse with the mighty dead; 
 
 Sages of ancient time, as gods rever’d; 
 
 As gods beneficent, who blest mankind 
 
 With arts, with arms, and humaniz’d a world. 435 
 
 Rous’d at th’ inspiring thought, 1 throw aside 
 
 The long-liv’d volume; and, deep-musing, hail 
 
 The sacred shades, that slowly-rising pass 
 
 Before my wondering eyes. First Socrates, 
 
 Who, firmly good in a corrupted state, 440 
 
 Against the rage of tyrants single stood, 
 
 Invincible! calm Reason’s holy law, 
 
 That Voice of God within th’ attentive mind,' 
 Obeying, fearless, or in life, or death. ^ 
 
 Great^inoral teacher! wisest of Mankind! 446 
 
 Solon the next; who built his common-weal 
 On equity’s wide base; by tender laws '' 
 
WINTER. 
 
 ^269 
 
 Characters of Greece. 
 
 A lively people curbing, yet undamp’d 
 Preserving still that quick peculiar fire. 
 
 Whence in the laurel’d field of finer arts, 450 
 
 And of bold freedom, they unequal’d shone j 
 The pride of smiling Greece, and human-kind. 
 Lycurgus then, who bow’d beneath the force 
 Of strictest discipline, severely wise. 
 
 All human passions. Following him, I see, 455 
 
 As at Thermopylce he glorious fell. 
 
 The firm devoted Chief, who prov’d by deeds 
 The hardest lesson which the other taught. 
 
 Then Aristides lifts his honest front j 
 
 Spotless of heart, to whom th’ unflattering voice 460 
 
 Of freedom gave the noblest name of Justj 
 
 In pure majestic poverty rever’d j 
 
 Who, ev’n his glory to his country’s weal 
 
 Submitting, swell’d a haughty Rival’s fame. 
 
 Rear’d by his care, of softer ray appears 465 
 
 CiMON sweet-soul’d; 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. 47^0 
 
 
270 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 
 Characters of Greece. 
 
 Then the last worthies of declining Greece, 
 
 Late call’d to glory, in unequal times. 
 
 Pensive, appear. The fair Corinthian boast, 
 Timoleon, happy temper! mild, and firm. 
 
 Who wept the Brother while the Tyrant bled. 475 
 And, equal to the best, the Theban Pair, 
 
 Whose virtues, in heroic concord join’d. 
 
 Their country rais’d to freeidom, empire, fame. 
 
 He too, with whom Athenian honour sunk. 
 
 And left a mass of sordid lees behind, 480 
 
 Phocion the Good; in public life severe; 
 
 To virtue still inexorably firm; 
 
 But when, beneath his low illustrious roof. 
 
 Sweet peace and happy wisdom smooth’d his brow. 
 Not friendship softer was, nor love more kind. 435 
 And he, the last of old Lycurgus’ sons. 
 
 The generous victim to that vain attempt. 
 
 To save a rotten State, Agis, who saw 
 Ev’n Sparta’s self to servile avarice sunk. 
 
 The two Achaian heroes close the train : 490 
 
 Aratus, who awhile relum’d the soul 
 Of fondly-lingering liberty in Greece : 
 
 And he her darling as her latest hope. 
 
 

 WINTER. 
 
 Roman Characters. 
 
 ^ r- ^ -r r r r .r ^ ^ 
 
 
 The gallant Philopcemen; who to arms 
 Turn’d the luxurious pomp he could not cure j 
 Or toiling in his farm, a simple swain ^ 
 
 Or, bold and skilful, thundering in the field. 
 
 Of rougher front, a mighty people come’ 
 
 A race of heroes! in those virtuous times 
 
 Which knew no stain, save that with partial flame 500 
 
 Their dearest country they too fondly lov’d : 
 
 Her better founder first, the light of Rome, 
 
 Numa, who soften’d her rapacious sons : 
 
 Servius the King, who laid the solid base 
 On which o’er earth the vast republic spread. 
 
 Then the great consuls venerable rise. 
 
 The Public Father who the Private quell’d. 
 
 As on the dread tribunal sternly sad. 
 
 He, whom his thankless country could not lose, 
 Camillus, only vengeful to her foes. 
 
 Fabricius, scorner of all-conquering goldj 
 And CiNCiNNATUs, awful from the plough. 
 
 Thy WILLING Victim, Carthage, bursting loose 
 From all that pleading Nature could oppose j 
 From. a whole. city’s tears, by rigid faith 
 
 

 
 W I N T E R. 
 
 Reman Characters. 
 
 Imperious call’d, and honour’s dire command. 
 
 Scipio, the gentle chief, humanely brave j 
 Who soon the race of spotless glory ran. 
 
 And, warm in youth, to the Poetic shade 
 With Friendship and Philosophy retir’d, 520 
 
 Tully, whose powerful eloquence awhile 
 Restrain’d the rapid fate of rushing Rome. 
 Unconquer’d Cato, virtuous in extreme. 
 
 And thou, unhappy Brutus, kind of hearty 
 Whose steady arm, by awful virtue urg’d, 525 
 
 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 ? 
 
 Behold, who yonder comes ! in sober state, 530 
 Fair, mild, and strong, as is a vernal sun : 
 
 ’Tis Phoebus’ self, or else the Mantuan Swain ! 
 
 Great Homer too appears, of daring wing. 
 
 Parent of song ! and equal by his side. 
 
 The British Muse : join’d hand in hand they walk, 535 
 Darkling, full up the middle steep to fame. 
 
 Nor absent are those shades, whose skilful touch 
 
WINTER. 
 
 273 
 
 'a 
 
 Address to Mr. Hammond. 
 
 ^ ^ r ^ ^ j- r T -f r y y~yy y- y y *-yj-yy 
 
 Pathetic drew th’ impassion’d heart, and charm’d 
 
 Transported Athens with the moral scene: 
 
 Nor those who, tuneful, wak’d th’ enchanting lyre. 
 
 First of your kind ! society divine ! 
 
 Still visit thus my nights, for you reserv’d. 
 
 And mount my soaring soul to thoughts like yours. 
 
 Silence, thou lonely power ! the door be thine 5 
 
 See on the hallowed hour that none intrude, 545 
 
 Save a few chosen friends, who sometimes deign 
 
 To bless my humble roof, with sense refin’d. 
 
 Learning digested well, exalted faith. 
 
 Unstudied wit, and humour ever gay. 
 
 Or from the Muses’ hill will Pope descend, 550 
 
 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. 
 
 The friend and lover of the tuneful throng ! 
 
 Ah why, dear youth, in all the blooming prime 
 
 Of vernal genius, where disclosing fast 
 
 Each active worth, each manly virtue lay. 
 
 Why wert thou ravish’d from our hope so soon ? 560 
 
 s 
 
Society in Winter. 
 
 What now avails that noble thirst of fame. 
 
 Which stung thy fervent breast ? that treasur’d store 
 Of knowledge, early gain’d ? that eager zeal 
 To serve thy country, glowing in the band 
 Of YOUTHFUL Patriots, who sustain her name? 565 
 What now, alas ! that life-diffusing charm 
 Of sprightly wit ? that rapture for the Muse, 
 
 That heart of friendship, and that soul of joy, 
 
 Which bade with softest light thy virtues smile ? 
 
 Ah! only show’d, to check our fond pursuits, 570 
 And teach our humbled hopes that life is vain ! 
 
 Thus in some deep retirement would I pass 
 The winter-glooms, with friends of pliant soul. 
 
 Or blithe, or solemn, as the theme inspir’d : 
 
 With them would search, if Nature’s boundless frame 
 Was call’d, late-rising from the void of night. 
 
 Or sprung eternal from th’ eternal Mindj 
 Its life, its laws, its progress, and its end. 
 
 Hence larger prospects of the beauteous whole 
 Would, gradual, open on our opening minds j 580 
 
 And each diffusive harmony unite 
 In full perfection, to th’ astonish’d eye. 
 
 Then would we try to scan the moral World, 
 
WINTER. 
 
 275 
 
 
 Society in Winter. 
 
 
 
 
 
 Which, though to us it seems embroil’d, moves on 
 In higher order j fitted, and impell’d, 5S5 
 
 By Wisdom’s finest hand, and issuing all 
 In general Good. The sage historic Muse 
 Should next conduct us through the deeps of time : 
 Show us how empire grew, declin’d, and fell. 
 
 In scatter’d states j what makes the nations smile j 590 
 Improves their soil, and gives them double suns j 
 And why they pine beneath the brightest skies. 
 
 In Nature’s richest lap. As thus we talk d. 
 
 Our hearts would burn within us, would inhale 
 
 That portion of divinity, that ray 
 
 Of purest heaven, which lights the public soul 
 
 Of patriots, and of heroes. But if doom d. 
 
 In powerless humble fortune, to repress 
 These ardent risings of the kindling soulj 
 
 Then, ev’n superior to ambition, we 
 Would learn the private virtues j ,how to glide 
 Through shades and plains, along the smoothest stream 
 Of rural life : or snatch’d away by hope. 
 
 Through the dim spaces of futurity. 
 
 With earnest eye anticipate those scenes 
 Of happiness, and wonder \ where the mind, 
 
 i 
 

 1 - 
 
 
 T!.-. 
 
 
 w 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Winter Amusements. 
 
 In endless growth and infinite ascent. 
 
 Rises from state to state, and world to world. 
 
 But when with these the serious thought is foil’d. 
 
 We, shifting for relief, would play the shapes 610 
 Of frolic fancy; and incessant form 
 Those rapid pictures, that assembled train 
 Of fleet ideas, never join’d before ; 
 
 Whence lively Wit excites to gay surprise ; 
 
 Or folly-painting Humour, grave himself, 615 
 
 Calls Laughter forth, deep-shaking every nerve. 
 
 Meantime the village rouses up the fire ; 
 
 While well-attested, and as well believ’d. 
 
 Heard solemn, goes the goblin-story round ; 
 
 Till superstitious horror creeps o’er all. 6^0 
 
 Or, frequent in the sounding hall, they wake 
 The rural gambol. Rustic mirth goes round j 
 The simple joke that takes the shepherd’s heart. 
 
 Easily pleas’d ; the long loud laugh, sincere ; 
 
 The kiss, snatch’d hasty from the side-long maid, 625 
 On purpose guardless, or pretending sleep : 
 
 The leap, the slap, the haul ; and, shook to notes 
 Of native music, the respondent dance. 
 
 Thus jocund fleets with them the winter-night. 
 
Dramatic Amusements. 
 
 The city swarms intense. Tiie public haunt, 630 
 Full of each theme, and warm with mix’d discourse. 
 Hums indistinct. The sons of riot flow 
 Down the loose stream of false inchanted joy. 
 
 To swift destruction. On the rankled soul 
 The gaming fury falls 5 and in one gulph 
 Of total ruin, honour, virtue, peace. 
 
 Friends, families, and fortune, headlong sink. 
 Up-springs the dance along the lighted dome. 
 
 Mix’d, and evolv’d, a thousand sprightly ways. 
 
 The glittering court effuses every pomp j 
 The circle deepens : beam’d from gaudy robes. 
 
 Tapers, and sparkling gems, and radiant eyes, 
 
 A soft effulgence o’er the palace waves : 
 
 While, a gay insect in his summer-shine. 
 
 The fop, light-fluttering, spreads his mealy wings. 645 
 Dread o’er the scene, the ghost of Hamlet stalks 5 
 Othello rages j poor Monimia mourns j 
 And Belvidera pours her soul in love. 
 
 Terror alarms the breast j the comely tear 
 
 Steals o’er the cheek: or else the Comic Muse 650 
 
 Holds to the world a picture of itself. 
 
 And raises sly the fair impartial laugh. 
 
 635 
 
 640 
 
WINTER. 
 
 278 
 
 
 
 Character of Lord Chesterfield. 
 
 Sometimes she lifts her strain, and paints the scenes 
 Of beauteous life j whate’er can deck mankind. 
 
 Or charm the heart, in generous Bevil sliow’d. 655 
 O thou, whose wisdom, solid yet refin’d. 
 
 Whose patriot virtues, and consummate skill 
 To touch the finer springs that move the world. 
 Join’d to whate’er the Graces can bestow. 
 
 And all Apollo’s animating fire, 660 
 
 Give thee, with pleasing dignity, to shine 
 At once the guardian, ornament, and joy. 
 
 Of polish’d life \ permit the Rural Muse, 
 
 O Chesterfield ! to grace with thee her song. 
 
 Ere to the shades again she humbly flies, 665 
 
 Indulge her fond ambition, in thy train, 
 
 (For every Muse has in thy train a place) 
 
 To mark thy various full-accomplish’d mind : 
 
 To mark that spirit, which, with British scorn. 
 Rejects th’ allurements of corrupted power j 670 
 That elegant politeness, which excels, 
 
 Ev’n in the judgment of presumptuous France, 
 
 The boasted manners of her shining court j 
 That wit, the vivid energy of sense. 
 
 The truth of Nature, which with Attic point. 
 
 675 
 
WINTER. 
 
 279 
 
 Character of Lord Chesterfield. 
 
 
 
 
 r ^ r ^ r r ^ e -T-f j- r* 
 
 680 
 
 And kind well-temper’d satire, smoothly keen. 
 
 Steals through the soul, and without pain corrects. 
 
 Or, rising thence with yet a brighter flame, 
 
 O let me hail thee on some glorious day. 
 
 When to the listening senate, ardent, crowd 
 Britannia’s sons to hear her pleaded cause. 
 
 Then drest by thee, more amiably fair. 
 
 Truth the soft robe of mild persuasion wears : 
 
 Thou to assenting reason giv’st again 
 Her own enlightened thoughts j call d from the heart, 
 Th’ obedient passions on thy voice attend j 
 And ev’n reluctant party feels awhile 
 Thy gracious power : as through the varied maze 
 Of eloquence, now smooth, now quick, now strong. 
 Profound and clear, you roll the copious flood. 690 
 To thy lov’d haunt return, my happy Muse : 
 
 For now, behold, the joyous winter-days. 
 
 Frosty, succeed j and through the blue serene. 
 
 For sight too fine, th’ ethereal nitre flies. 
 
 Killing infectious damps, and the spent air 
 Storing afresh with elemental life. 
 
 Close crowds the shining atmosphere j and binds 
 Our strengthened bodies in its cold embrace. 
 
 695 
 
Frost bene6cial. 
 
 Constringent j feeds, and animates our blood ; 
 
 Refines our spirits, through the new-strung nerves, 
 
 In swifter sallies darting to the brain j 
 Where sits the soul, intense, collected, cool. 
 
 Bright as the skies, and as the season keen. 
 
 All Nature feels the renovating force 
 Of Winter, only to the thoughtless eye 705 
 
 In ruin seen. The frost-concocted glebe 
 Draws in abundant vegetable soul. 
 
 And gathers vigour for the coming year. 
 
 A stronger glow sits on the lively cheek 
 Of mddy fire : and luculent along 710 
 
 The purer rivers flow j their sullen deeps. 
 Transparent, open to the shepherd’s gaze. 
 
 And murmur hoarser at the fixing frost. 
 
 What art thou, frost ? and whence are thy keen stores 
 Deriv’d, thou secret all-invading power ! 715 
 
 Whom ev’n th’ illusive fluid cannot fly ? 
 
 Is not thy potent energy, unseen. 
 
 Myriads of little salts, or hook’d, or shap’d 
 Like double wedges, and diffus’d immense ' 
 
 Through water, earth, and ether ? Hence at eve, 720 
 Steam’d eager from the red horizon round. 
 
WINTER. 
 
 281 
 
 Description of Frost. 
 
 
 With the fierce rage of Winter deep suffus’d. 
 
 An icy gale, oft shifting, o’er the pool 
 Breathes a blue film, and in its mid career 
 Arrests the bickering stream. The loosened ice, 725 
 Let down the flood, and half dissolv’d by day. 
 
 Rustles no more 3 but to the sedgy bank 
 Fast grows 3 or gathers round the pointed stone, 
 
 A crystal pavement, by the breath of heaven 
 Cemented firm 3 till, seiz’d from shore to shore, 730 
 The whole imprison’d river growls below. 
 
 Loud rings the frozen earth, and hard reflects 
 A double noise 3 while, at his evening watch. 
 
 The village dog deters the nightly thief ; 
 
 The heifer lows 3 the distant waterfall 735 
 
 Swells in the breeze 3 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 3 and, all one cope 740 
 Of starry gutter, glows from pole to j^ole. 
 
 From pole to pole the rigid influence falls, ' 
 Through the still night, incessant, heavy, strongs 
 And seizes Nature fast. It freezes on 3 
 
«S2 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 
 Winter Amusements. 
 
 
 Till morn, late rising o’er the drooping world, 745 
 Lifts her pale eye unjoyous. Then appears 
 The various labour of the silent night : 
 
 Prone from the dripping cave, and dumb cascade. 
 Whose idle torrents only seem to roaiv 
 The pendant icicle j the frost-work fair, 750 
 
 Where transient hues, and fancy d figures risej 
 Wide-spouted o’er the hill, the frozen brook, 
 
 A livid track, cold-gleaming on the morn j 
 
 The forest bent beneath the plumy wave j 
 
 And by the frost refin’d the whiter snow, 755 
 
 Incrusted hard, and sounding to the tread 
 
 Of early shepherd, as he pensive seeks 
 
 His pining flock j or from the mountain top. 
 
 Pleas’d with the slippery surface, swift descends. 
 
 On blithsome frolics bent, the youthful swains, 760 
 While every work of Man is laid at rest. 
 
 Fond o’er the river crowd, in various sport 
 And revelry dissolv’d j where mbdng glad. 
 
 Happiest of all the train! the raptur’d boy 
 
 Lashes the whirling top. Or, where the Rhine 765 
 
 Branch’d out in many a long canal extends. 
 
 From every province swarming, void of care. 
 

 WINTER. 
 
 28S 
 
 
 Winter Amusements. 
 
 
 770 
 
 Batavia rushes forth} and as they sweep. 
 
 On sounding skates, a thousand diiferent 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 775 
 The manly strife, with highly-blooming charms. 
 Flush’d by the season, Scandinavia’s dames. 
 
 Or Russia’s buxom daughters, glow around. 
 
 Pure, quick, and sportful, is the wholesome day} 
 
 Broad o’er the south, hangs at his utmost noon} 
 
 Arid, ineffectual, strikes the gelid cliff: 
 
 His azure gloss the mountain still maintains. 
 
 Nor feels the feeble touch. Perhaps the vale 
 Relents awhile to the reflected ray} 
 
 Or from the forest falls the cluster’d snow. 
 
 Myriads of gems, that in the waving gleam 
 Gay-twinkle as they scatter. Thick around 
 Thunders the sport of those, who with the gun. 
 
 And dog impatient bounding at the shot. 
 
 m 
 
 
 fei; 
 
 
284 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Worse than the season, desolate the fields j 
 And, adding to the ruins of the year. 
 
 Distress the footed or the feathered game. 
 
 But what is this? Our infant Winter sinks. 
 
 Divested of his grandeur, should our eye 795 
 
 Astonish’d shoot into the Frigid Zone 3 
 Where, for relentless months, continual Night 
 Holds o’er the glittering waste her starry reign. 
 
 There, through the prison of unbounded wilds, 
 Barr’d by the hand of Nature from escape, 800 
 
 Wide-roams the Russian exile. Nought around 
 Strikes his sad eye, but deserts lost in snowj 
 And heavy-loaded groves j and solid floods. 
 
 That stretch, athwart the solitary waste. 
 
 Their icy horrors to the frozen main) 805 
 
 And cheerless towns far-distant, never bless’d. 
 
 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 'cherish’d there, beneath the shining waste, 810 
 The furry nations harbour : tipt with jet. 
 
 Fair ermines, spotless as the snows they press; 
 
 Sables, of glossy black; and dark embrown’d, 
 
 
WINTER. 
 
 285 
 
 
 r frr *‘r rj-rrj-f r 
 
 Winter in the Frigid Zone. 
 
 Or beauteous freakt with many a mingled hue. 
 Thousands besides, the costly pride of courts. 815 
 There, warm together press’d, the trooping deer 
 Sleep on the new-fall’n snows j and, scarce his head 
 Rais’d o’er the heapy wreath, the branching elk 
 Lies slumbering sullen in the white abyss. 
 
 The ruthless hunter wants nor dogs nor toils j 820 
 
 Nor with the dread of sounding bows he drives 
 The fearful flying race ^ with ponderous clubs, - 
 As weak against the mountain-heaps they push 
 Their beating breast in vain, and piteous bray. 
 
 He lays them quivering on th’ ensanguin d snows j 825 
 And with loud shouts rejoicing bears them home. 
 There through the piny forest half-absorpt. 
 
 Rough tenant of these shades, the shapeless bear. 
 
 With dangling ice all horrid, stalks forlorn j 
 Slow-pac’d, and sourer as the storms increase, 830 
 He makes his bed beneath th’ inclement drift. 
 
 And, with stern patience, scorning weak complaint 
 Hardens his heart against assailing want 
 Wide o’er the spacious regions of the north 
 That see Bootes urge his tardy wain, S35 
 
 A boisterous race, by frosty Caurus pierc d 
 
«86 
 
 WINTER 
 
 r ^ ^ J 
 
 r ^ f ^ ^ ^ ^ -f ^ 4 
 
 Laplanders, and the Northern Regions described. 
 
 i Who little pleasure know and fear no pain. 
 
 Prolific swarm. They once relum’d the flame 
 Of lost mankind in polish’d slavery sunk) 
 
 Drove martial horde on horde, with dreadful sweep 840 
 Resistless rushing o’er the enfeebled south. 
 
 And gave the vanquish’d world another form. 
 
 Not such the sons of Lapland : wisely they 
 Despise th’ insensate barbarous trade of war j 
 They ask no more than simple Nature gives, 845 
 They love their mountains and enjoy their storms. 
 
 No false desires, no pride-created wants. 
 
 Disturb the peaceful current of their time) 
 
 And through the restless ever-tortur’d maze 
 Of pleasure, or ambition, bid it rage. 850 
 
 Their rein-deer form their riches. These, their tents. 
 Their robes, their beds, and all their homely wealth 
 Supply, their wholesome fare, and cheerful cups. 
 Obsequious at their call, the docile tribe 
 Yield to the sled their necks, and whirl them swift 855 
 O’er hill and dale, heap’d into one expanse 
 Of marbled snow, as far as eye can sweep. 
 
 With a blue crust of ice unbounded glaz’d. 
 
 By dancing meteors then, that ceaseless shake 
 
r ^ ^ 
 
 Northern Regions. 
 
 r^^.r-4 
 
 
 A waving blaze refracted o’er the heavens, 8GO 
 
 And vivid moons, and stars that keener pl3-y 
 With doubled lustre from the glossy waste j 
 Ev’n in the depth of Polar Night, they find 
 A wond’rous day : enough to light the chase. 
 
 Or guide their daring steps to Finland-fairs. 865 
 
 Wish’d Spring returns j and from the hazy south. 
 While dim Aurora slowly moves before. 
 
 The welcome sun, just verging up at first. 
 
 By small degrees extends the swelling curve ; 
 
 Till seen at last for gay rejoicing months, 870 
 
 Still round and round, his spiral course he winds j 
 And as he nearly dips his flaming orb, 
 
 Wlieels up again, and reascends the sky. 
 
 In that glad season, from the lakes and floods, 
 
 Wliere pure Niemi’s faiiy mountains rise, 875 
 
 And fi’ing’d 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 employ’d. 
 
 Their kind unblemish’d wives the fire prepare. 880 
 Thrice happy race ! by poverty secur’d 
 From legal plunder and rapacious power: 
 
Northern Regions. 
 
 In whom fell interest never yet has sown 
 The seeds of vice : whose spotless swains ne’er knew 
 Injurious deed 3 nor, blasted by the breath 885 
 
 Of faithless love, their blooming daughters woe. 
 
 Still pressing on, beyond Tornea’s lake. 
 
 And Heel a flaming through a waste of snow. 
 
 And farthest Greenland, to the pole itself. 
 
 Where, failing gradual, life at length goes out, 890 
 The Musoexpands her solitary flight; 
 
 And, hovering o’er the wild stupendous scene. 
 
 Beholds new seas beneath another sky. 
 
 Thron’d in his palace of cerulean ice. 
 
 Here Winter holds his unrejoicing court; 895 
 
 And through his airy hall the loud misrule 
 Of driving tempest is for ever heard: 
 
 Here the grim tyrant meditates his wrath; 
 
 Here arms his winds with, all-subduing frost; 
 
 Moulds his fierce hail, and treasures up his snows, 900 
 With which he now oppresses half the globe. 
 
 Thence winding eastward to the Tartar’s coast. 
 
 She sweeps the howling margin of the main ; 
 
 Where undissolving, from the first of time. 
 
 Snows swell on snows amazing to the sky ; 
 
 905 
 
WINTER. 
 
 
 Mountains of Ice. 
 
 289 
 
 
 And icy mountains high on mountains pil’d. 
 
 Seem to the shivering sailor from afar. 
 
 Shapeless and white, an atmosphere of clouds. 
 Projected huge, and horrid, o’er the surge, 
 
 Alps frown on Alps; or rushing hideous down, 910 
 As if old Chaos was again return’d, 
 
 Wide-rend the deep, and shake the solid pole. 
 
 Ocean itself no longer can resist 
 
 The binding fury ; but, in all its rage 
 
 Of tempest taken by the boundless frost, ' 915 
 
 Is many a fathom to the bottom chain’d, ' 
 
 And bid to roar no more : a bleak expanse, 
 
 Shagg’d o’er with wavy rocks, cheerless, and void 
 Of every life, that from the dreary months 
 Flies conscious southward. Miserable they! 920 
 
 Who, here entangled in the gathering ice. 
 
 Take their last look of the descending sun ; 
 
 While, full of death, and fierce with tenfold frost. 
 
 The long long night, incumbent o’er their heads. 
 
 Falls horrible. Such was the Briton’s fate, 925 
 As with first prow, (what have not Briton’s dar’d!) 
 
 He for the passage sought, attempted since 
 So much in vain, and seeming to be shut 
 
 
 
 
 
290 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 
 The lowest Race of Man. 
 
 
 e r f~r J- ^ ^ .rj 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 By jealous Nature with eternal bars. 
 
 In these fell regions, in Arzina caught, 930 
 
 And to the stony deep his idle ship 
 Immediate seal’d, he with his hapless crewv 
 Each full exerted at his several task. 
 
 Froze into statues j to the cordage glu’d 
 
 The sailor, and the pilot to the helm. 935 
 
 Hard by these shores, where scarce his freezing stream 
 Rolls the wild Oby, live the last of Men ; 
 
 And half enlivened by the distant sun. 
 
 That rears and ripens Man, as well as plants. 
 
 Here human Nature wears its rudest form. 940 
 
 Deep from the piercing season sunk in caves. 
 
 Here by dull fires, and with unjoyous cheer. 
 
 They waste the tedious gloom. Immers’d in furs. 
 Doze the gross race. Nor sprightly jest, nor song. 
 Nor tenderness they know nor aught of life, 945 
 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 tlie quiver’d savage to the chase. 
 
 What cannot active government perform, 950 
 
 New-moulding Man? Wide-stretching from these shores. 
 
^ r rj- r r r 
 
 Peter the Great of Russia. 
 
 A people savage from remotest time, 
 
 A huge neglected empire, one vast Mind, 
 
 By Heaven inspir’d, from Gothic darkness call’d. 
 Immortal Peter ! first of monarchs! He ‘ 955 
 
 His stubborn country tam’d, her rocks, her fens. 
 
 Her floods, her seas, her ill-submitting sons 3 
 And while the fierce Barbarian he subdu’d. 
 
 To more exalted soul he rais’d the Man. 
 
 Ye shades of ancient heroes ! ye who toil’d 960 
 Through long successive ages to build up 
 A labouring plan of state, behold at once 
 The wonder done! behold the. matchless prince! 
 
 Who left his native throne, where reign’d till then 
 A mighty shadow of unreal power j 965 
 
 Who greatly spurn’d the slothful pomp of courts j 
 And roaming every land, in every' port . 
 
 His sceptre laid aside, with glorious hand 
 Unwearied plying the mechanic tool. 
 
 Gather’d the seeds of trade, of useful arts, 970 
 
 Of civil wisdom, and of martial skill. 
 
 Charg’d with the stores of Europe home he goes ! 
 Then cities rise amid th’ illumin’d waste j 
 O’er joyless deserts smiles the rural reign; 
 
292 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Peter the Great of Russia. 
 
 Far-distant flood to flood is social join’d j 975 
 
 Th’ astonish’d Euxine hears the Baltic roar ; 
 
 Proud navies ride on seas that never foam’d 
 
 With daring keel before 3 and armies stretch 
 
 Each way their dazzling files, repressing here 
 
 The frantic Alexander of the north, 980 
 
 And awing there stern Othman’s shrinking sons. 
 
 Sloth flies the land, and Ignorance, and Vice, 
 
 Of old dishonour proud : it glows around. 
 
 Taught by the Royal Hand that rous’d the whole. 
 
 One scene of arts, of arms, of rising trade: 985 
 
 For what his wisdom plann’d, and power enforc’d. 
 More potent still, his great example show’d. 
 
 Muttering, the winds at eve, with blunted point, 
 Blow hollow-blustering from the south. Subdu’d, 
 The frost resolves into a trickling thaw. 990 
 
 Spotted the mountains shine j loose sleet descends. 
 And floods the country round. The rivers swell. 
 
 Of bonds impatient. Sudden from the hills. 
 
 O’er rocks and woods, in broad brown cataracts, 
 
 A thousand snow -fed torrents shoot at once 3 995 
 
 And, where they rush, the wide-resounding plain 
 Is left one slimy waste. Those sullen seas. 
 
 
VV 1 ]>j T E R 
 
 293 
 
 
 S' f- r • r i 
 
 Description of Thaw. 
 
 r ^ ^ X -T ^ T ^ XX 
 
 That wash’d th’ ungenial pole, will rest no more 
 Beneath the shackles of the mighty north j 
 But, rousing all their waves, resistless heave. 1000 
 And hark ! the lengthening roar continuous runs 
 Athwart the rifted deep : at once it bursts. 
 
 And piles a thousand mountains to the clouds. 
 
 Ill fares the bark with trembling wretches charg’d. 
 That, tost amid the floating fragments, moors 1005 
 Beneath the shelter of an icy isle. 
 
 While night o’erwhelms the sea, and horror looks 
 More horrible. Can human force endure 
 
 Th’ assembled mischiefs that besiege them round? 
 Heart-gnawing hunger, fainting weariness, 1010 
 
 The roar of winds and waves, the crush of ice. 
 
 Now ceasing, now renew’d with louder rage. 
 
 And in dire echoes bellowing round the main. 
 
 More to embroil the deep. Leviathan 
 And his unwieldy train, in dreadful sport, 1015 
 
 Tempest the loosened brine 3 while through the gloom. 
 Far, from the bleak inhospitable shore. 
 
 Loading the winds, is heard the hungry howl 
 Of famish’d monsters, there awaiting wrecks. ^ 
 
 Yet PnoviDF.NCE, that ever-waking eye ! 1020 
 
^94 
 
 W I N f E R. 
 
 Life compared to tlie Seasons. 
 
 
 Looks down with pity on the feeble toil 
 Of mortals lost to hope; and lights them safe. 
 Through all this dreary labyrinth of fate. 
 
 ’Tis done! dread Winter spreads his latest glooms, 
 And reigns tremendous o’er the conquer’d year. 1025 
 How dead the vegetable kingdom lies! 
 
 How dumb the tuneful! Horror wide extends 
 His desolate domain. Behold, fond Man ! 
 
 See here thy pictur’d life ; pass some few years. 
 
 Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer’s ardent strength. 
 Thy sober Autumn fading into age. 
 
 And pale concluding Winter comes at last. 
 
 And shuts the scene. Ah! whither now are fled 
 Those dreams of greatness ? those unsolid hopes 
 Of happiness ? those longings after fame ? 1035 
 
 Those restless cares ? those busy bustling days ? 
 
 Those gay-spent, festive nights ? those veering thoughts 
 Lost between good and ill, that shar’d thy life? 
 
 All now are vanish’d; Virtue sole-survives. 
 
 Immortal never-failing friend of Man, 1040 
 
 His guide to happiness on high. And see ! 
 
 ’T is come, the glorious morn! the second birth 
 Of heaven and earth ! awakening Nature hears 
 
WINTER. 
 
 295 
 
 Virtue the Friend of Man. 
 
 
 
 The new-creating word, and starts to life. 
 
 In every heightened form; from pain and death 1045 
 For ever free. The great eternal scheme. 
 
 Involving all, and in a perfect whole 
 Uniting, as the prospect wider spreads. 
 
 To reason’s eye refin’d clears up apace. 
 
 Ye vainly wise ! ye blind presumptuous ! now, 1050 
 Confounded in the dust, adore that Power, 
 
 And Wisdom oft arraign’d: see now the cause. 
 
 Why unassuming worth in secret liv’d. 
 
 And dy’d, neglected ; why the good Man’s share 
 In life was gall and bitterness of soul : 
 
 Why the lone widow and her orphans pin’d 
 In starving solitude ; while luxury. 
 
 In palaces, lay straining her low thought. 
 
 To form unreal wants: why heaven-born truth. 
 
 And moderation fair, wore the red maiks 
 Of superstition’s scourge : why licens d pain. 
 
 That cruel spoiler, that embosom’d foe, 
 
 Imbitters all our bliss. Ye good distrest! 
 
 Ye noble few! who here unbending stand 
 Beneath life’s pressure, yet bear up a while. 
 
 1055 
 
 1060 
 
 1065 
 

 
 HYMNS AND SONGS. 
 
 -r 
 
 ' l-v 
 

 
 A HYMN. 
 
 TO THE SUPREME BEING. 
 
 
 T HESE, as they change^ Almighty Fa.ther! 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 j the softening air is balmj 
 Echo the mountains round 3 the forest smiles 3 
 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 3 
 And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve. 
 
 By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales 
 Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin’d. 
 
 And spreads a common feast for all that lives. 
 
 In Winter awful Thou! with clouds and storms 
 
 10 
 
 15 
 
 
300 
 
 A HYMN. 
 
 
 ■ r- 
 
 ^ ^ j'-i- i 
 
 
 r ^ r^ r-r 
 
 Around Thee thrown^ tempest o’er tempest roll’d. 
 
 Majestic darkness ! on the whirlwind’s wing. 
 
 Riding sublime. Thou bid’st the world adore. 
 
 And humblest Nature with thy northern blast. 20 
 
 Mysterious round ! what skill, what force divine. 
 
 Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train. 
 
 Yet so delightful mix’d, with such kind art. 
 
 Such beauty and beneficence combin’d: 
 
 •» ' 
 
 Shade, unperceiv’d, so softening into shade; 25 
 
 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, ever-busy, wheels the silent spheres ; 30 
 
 Works in the secret deep; shoots, steaming, thence 
 The fair profusion that o’erspreads the Spring : 
 
 Flings from the sun direct the flaming day; 
 
 Feeds every creature ; hurls the tempest forth ; 
 
 And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, 35 
 With transport touches all the springs of life. 
 
 Nature, attend! join every living soul. 
 
 Beneath the spacious temple of the sky. 
 
 In adoration join ; and, ardent, raise 
 One general song! To Him, ye vocal gales. 
 
 40 
 
TO THE SUPREME BEING. 
 
 301 
 
 Breathe soft j whose Spirit in your freshness breathes: 
 Oh talk of Him in solitary glooms! 
 
 Where, o’er the rock, the scarcely waving pine 
 Fills the brown shade with a religious awe. 
 
 And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar, 45 
 
 Who shake th’ astonish’d world, lift high to heaven 
 Th’ impetuous song, and say from whom you rage. 
 
 His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills 5 
 And let me catch it as I muse along. 
 
 Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound j 50 
 
 Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze 
 Along the vale j and thou, majestic main, 
 
 A secret world of wonders in thyself, 
 
 Sound His stupendous praise j whose greater voice 
 Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall. 55 
 
 Soft-roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flow’rs, 
 In mingled clouds to Him 3 whose sun exalts. 
 
 Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints. 
 Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave, to Him 5 
 Breathe your still song into the reaper’s heart, 60 
 As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. 
 
 Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep 
 Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams. 
 
 Ye constellations, while your angels strike. 
 
302 
 
 A HYMN. 
 
 
 Amid the spangled sky, the silver lyre. 65 
 
 Great source of day ! best image here below 
 Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide. 
 
 From world to world, the vital ocean round j 
 On Nature write with every beam His praise. 
 
 The thunder rolls: be hush’d the prostrate world 3 70 
 While cloud to cloud returns the solemn hymn. 
 
 Bleat out afresh, ye hills : ye mossy rocks. 
 
 Retain the sound : the broad responsive lowe. 
 
 Ye valleys raise; for the great Shepherd reigns; 
 
 And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come. 75 
 
 Ye woodlands all, awake : a boundless song 
 Bursts from the 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. 80 
 
 Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles. 
 
 At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all. 
 
 Crown the great hymn ! in swarming cities vast. 
 Assembled men, to the deep organ join 
 The long-resounding voice, oft-breaking clear, 85 
 At solemn pauses, through the swelling bass; 
 
 And, as each mingling flame increases each. 
 
 In one united ardour rise to heaven. 
 
TO THE SUPREME BEING. 
 
 303 
 
 Or if you rather chuse the rural shade. 
 
 And find a fane in every sacred grove 3 90 
 
 Tliere let the shepherd’s flute, the virgin’s lay, 
 
 The prompting seraph, and the poet’s lyre. 
 
 Still sing the God of Seasons, as they roll. 
 
 For me, when 1 forget the darling theme. 
 
 Whether the blossom blows, the Summer ray 95 
 
 Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams. 
 
 Or Winter rises in the blackening east 5 
 Be iny tongue mute, may fancy paint no more. 
 
 And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat. 
 
 Should fate command me to the farthest verge 100 
 Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes. 
 
 Rivers unknown to song 3 where first the sun 
 Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam 
 Flames on th’ Atlantic isles 3 ’t is nought to me : 
 
 Since God is ever present, ever felt. 
 
 In the void waste as in the city fullj 
 And where He vital breathes there must be joy. 
 
 When even at last the solemn hour shall come. 
 
 And wing my mystic flight to future worlds, 
 
 I cheerful will obey 3 there, with new powers. 
 
 Will rising wonders sing : I cannot go 
 Where Universal Love not smiles around. 
 
 105 
 
 no 
 
304 
 
 A HYMN 
 
 Sustaining all yon orbs and all their sonsj 
 From seeming evil still educing good. 
 
 And better thence again, and better still, 115 
 
 In infinite progression. But I lose 
 Myself in Him, in Light ineffable ! 
 
 Come then, expressive silence, muse his praise. 
 
 ON SOLITUDE. 
 
 Hail, mildly pleasing Solitude, 
 Companion of the wise and good^ 
 
 But, from whose holy, piercing eye. 
 
 The herd of fools and villains fly. 
 
 Oh ! how I love with thee to walk. 
 And listen to thy whisper’d talk. 
 
 Which innocence and truth imparts. 
 
 And melts the most obdurate hearts. 
 
 A thousand shapes you wear with ease, 
 And still in every shape you please. 
 
 Now wrapt in some mysterious dream, 
 
 A lone philosopher you seem 5 
 Now quick from hill to vale you fly. 
 
 And now you sweep the vaulted sky; 
 
■m SOLITUDE. .‘^05 
 
 A sliepb^'^’d next, you haunt the plain. 
 
 And warble forth your oaten strain. 
 
 A lover nc<vv, with all the grace 
 Of that sweet passion in your face: 
 
 Then, calm’d to friendship, you assume 
 The gentle-looking Hertford’s bloom. 
 
 As, with her Musidora, she 
 (Her Musidora fond of thee) 
 
 Amid the long withdrawing vale. 
 
 Awakes the rival’d nightingale. 
 
 Thine is the balmy breath of morn. 
 
 Just as the dew-bent rose is boriij 
 And while meridian fervors beat. 
 
 Thine is the woodland dumb retreat 3 
 But chief, when evening scenes decay. 
 
 And the faint landskip swims away. 
 
 Thine is the doubtful soft decline. 
 
 And that best hour of musing thine. 
 
 Descending angels bless thy train. 
 
 The virtues of the sage, and swain ; 
 
 Plain Innocence in white array’d. 
 
 Before thee lifts her fearless headj 
 Religion’s beams around thee shine. 
 
 And cheer thy glooms with light divine : 
 
 u 
 

 
 
 306 ON BOLUS’S HARP. 
 
 t 
 
 About thee sports sweet Liberty j 
 And rapt Urania sings to thee. 
 
 Oh, let me pierce thy secret cell! 
 And in thy deep recesses dwells 
 Perhaps from Norwood’s oak-clad hill. 
 When meditation has her fdl, 
 
 I just may cast my careless eyes 
 Where London’s spiiy turrets rise. 
 Think of its crimes, its cares, its pain, 
 Then shield me in the woods again. 
 
 ON yLOLUS’S HARP. 
 
 ^Ethereal race, inhabitants of air. 
 
 Who hymn your God amid the secret grove; 
 
 Ye unseen beings to my harp repair. 
 
 And raise majestic strains, or nielt in love. 
 
 Those tender notes, how kindly they upbraid. 
 
 With what soft woe they thrill the lover’s heart! 
 Sure from the hand of some unhappy maid. 
 
 Who died for love, these sweet complainings part. 
 
ON iEOLUS’S HARP. 
 
 307 
 
 a 
 
 But hark ! that strain was of a graver tone. 
 
 On the deep strings his hand some hermit throws ; 
 
 Or he, the sacred Bard *, who sat alone 
 
 In the drear waste, and wept his people’s woes. 
 
 Such was the song which Zion’s children sung, 
 
 When by Euphrates’ stream they made their plaint; 
 
 And to such sadly solemn notes are strung 
 Angelic harps, to soothe a dying saint. 
 
 Methinks I hear the full celestial choir. 
 
 Thro’ heaven’s high dome their awful anthem raise ; 
 
 Now chanting clear, and now they all conspire 
 To swell the lofty hymn from praise to praise. 
 
 Let me, ye wandering spirits of the wand, n : 
 
 Who, as wild fancy prompts you, touch the string, 
 
 Smit with your theme, be in your chorus join’d. 
 
 For till you cease, my Muse forgets to sing. 
 
 . ^ 
 
 ' JcreniittSi. 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 
308 
 
 V 
 
 SONGS. 
 
 Tell me^ thou soul of her I love. 
 
 Ah! tell me, whither art thou fledj 
 
 To what delightful world above. 
 Appointed for the happy dead ? 
 
 Or dost thou, free, at pleasure, roam. 
 And sometimes share thy lover’s woe; 
 
 Where, void of thee, his cheerless home 
 Can now, alas! no comfort know? 
 
 Oh ! if thou hover’st round my walk. 
 While, under every well-known tree, 
 
 I to thy fancy’d shadow talk. 
 
 And every tear is fulUof thee : 
 
 Should then the weary eye of grief. 
 Beside some sympathetic stream. 
 
 In slumber find a short relief, 
 
 Oh visit thou my soothing dream ! 
 
SONGS. 
 
 309 
 
 - *■ t 
 
 
 Come, gentle God of soft desire. 
 
 Come and possess my happy breast. 
 
 Not fury-like in flames and fire. 
 
 Or frantic folly’s wildness drest j 
 
 But come in friendship’s angel-guise : 
 
 Yet dearer thou than friendship art. 
 More tender spirit in thy eyes. 
 
 More sweet emotions at the heart. 
 
 O come with goodness in thy train. 
 
 With peace and pleasure void of storm. 
 And wouldst thou me for ever gain. 
 
 Put on Amanda’s winning form. 
 
 One day the God of fond desire. 
 
 On mischief bent, to Damon said. 
 Why not disclose your tender fire. 
 Not own it to the lovely maid? 
 
 1 
 
 % 
 
The shepherd mark’d his treacherous art. 
 And, softly sighing, thus reply’d : 
 
 ’Tis true, you have subdu’d my heart. 
 
 But shall not triumph o’er my pride. 
 
 The slave, in private only bears 
 
 Your bondage, who his love conceals ; 
 But when his passion he declares. 
 
 You drag him at your chariot -wheels. 
 
 Hard is the fate of him who loves. 
 
 Yet dares not tell his trembling pain. 
 But to the sympathetic groves. 
 
 But to the lonely listening plain. 
 
 Oh ! when she blesses next your, shade. 
 Oh ! when her footsteps next are seen 
 In flowery tracts along the mead. 
 
 In fresher mazes o’er the green: 
 
SONGS 
 
 3U 
 
 Ye gentle spirits of the vale. 
 
 To whom the tears of love are dear. 
 From dying lilies waft a gale. 
 
 And sigh my sorrows in her ear. 
 
 Oh ! tell her what she cannot blame, ' 
 Though fear my tongue must ever bindj 
 Oh tell her, that my virtuous flame 
 Is as her spotless soul refin’d. 
 
 Not her own guardian angel eyes 
 With chaster tenderness his care. 
 
 Not purer her own wishes rise. 
 
 Not holier her own sighs in pray’r. 
 
 But if, at first, her virgin fear 
 
 Should start at love’s suspected name. 
 
 With that of friendship soothe her ear 
 
 True love and friendship are the same. 
 
 
 
Unless with my Amanda blest. 
 
 In vain I twine the woodbine bower; 
 Unless to deck her sweeter breast. 
 
 In vain I rear the breathing flower. 
 
 Awaken’d by the genial year. 
 
 In vain the birds around me sing; 
 
 In vain the freshening fields appear: — 
 Without my love there is no Spring. 
 
 For ever. Fortune, wilt thou prove 
 An unrelenting foe to love. 
 
 And when we meet a mutual heart. 
 Come in between, and bid us part. 
 
 Bid us sigh on from day to day. 
 
 And wish, and wish the soul away; 
 Till youth and genial years are flown. 
 And all the life of life is gone ? 
 
SONGS. 
 
 But busy busy still art thou. 
 
 To bind the loveless joyless vow. 
 The heart from pleasure to delude. 
 To join the gentle to the rude*. 
 
 313 
 
 For once, O Fortune, hear my pray’r. 
 And I absolve thy future care j 
 All other blessings I resign. 
 
 Make but the dear Amanda mine. 
 
 O Nightingale, best poet of the grove. 
 
 That plaintive strain can ne’er belong to thee. 
 Blest in the full possession of thy love : 
 
 O lend that strain, sweet Nightingale, to me! 
 
 
 A MS. copy of tb»s song, in Lord Bucban's collection, concluded thus s 
 
 For pomp, and noise, and senseless show. 
 
 To make us Nature’s joys forego. 
 
 Beneath a gay dominion groan, 
 
 And put the golden fetters on ’ 
 
 
 
SONGS. 
 
 ni4 
 
 ’Tis mine, alas ! to mourn my wretched fate : 
 
 I love a maid who all my bosom charms. 
 
 Yet lose my days without this lovely mate; 
 
 Inhuman fortune keeps her from my arms. 
 
 You, happy birds ! by nature’s simple laws 
 Lead your soft lives, sustain’d by nature’s fare; 
 
 You dwell wherever roving fancy draws. 
 
 And love and song is all your pleasing care ; 
 
 But we, vain slaves of interest and of pride. 
 
 Dare not be blest lest envious tongues should blame : 
 And hence, in vain I languish for my bride ! 
 
 O mourn with me, sweet bird, my hapless flame. 
 
 O THOU, whose tender serious eyes 
 Expressive speak the mind I love ; 
 Tlie gentle azure of the skies. 
 
 The pensive shadows of the grove ; 
 
O mix their beauteous beams with mine. 
 
 And let us interchange our hearts ; 
 
 Let all their sweetness on me shine. 
 
 Pour’d through my soul be all their darts. 
 
 Ah ! ’tis too much ! I cannot bear 
 At once so soft, so keen a ray: 
 
 In pity then, my lovely fair, 
 
 O turn those killing eyes away ! 
 
 But what avails it to conceal 
 
 One charm, where nought but charms I sec 
 
 Their lustre then again reveal. 
 
 And let me, Myra, die of thee ! 
 
YflA^eo 10 G ^A z3Lam 
 
 . 
 
 
 .•^Iv*^ :jCi: *^4fri. 
 
 
 hRt 
 
 A 
 
 ;k 
 
 *ail 
 
 iooA 
 
 
 
 
 ^ ■ ..^ 
 
 mt- 
 
 .i 
 
 imm 
 
 - 
 
 
 , Of ^^ i^(laK 
 
 eee 
 
 
 ~ 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 •" T • ::^.' ^ . ti otiVl oj 
 
 
 .11 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 ' ^5( • > *uil*I ©jj 
 
 
 Ji 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 •' -'v e ,^;lt Of — 
 
 0 
 
 v>iB 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 r,'^j .;/■) jM <it — 
 
 6t 
 
 Yl 
 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 s'ra 
 
 ati 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 - 
 
 “ gaiijiurf i'M>‘ .Ht , , ».ii,> -jdt di r*i'3i)K 
 
 086 
 
 • 
 
 a 
 
 - 
 
 ~ 
 
 - 
 
 - ivoi ’p v-y, ii5„n sniio'( oi — 
 
 tts 
 
 .i 
 
 — 
 
 -*■ 
 
 - 
 
 ' “ - r. -iyimuni 9dl t%-^k 
 
 ead 
 
 .u 
 
 — 
 
 ~ 
 
 ~ 
 
 f 
 
 ^ ~ ^ 9|jj jOnajtK 
 
 oet 
 
 .vi 
 
 
 
 ~ 
 
 - fescfn V naifiianodi 
 
 tee 
 
 .1 
 
 — 
 
 •*- 
 
 * 
 
 ^l;oll')u^^a^i 
 
 T«e 
 
 Ju 
 
 ~ 
 
 
 - 
 
 ■“ - lift-^/nrido friii Uij. ainb 
 
 TS 
 
 .tii 
 
 — 
 
 — 
 
 - 
 
 ~ Jq aoitqhoEdb ^RUuiuK 
 
A. 
 
 Book. Line 
 
 A DDRESS to Ammda. -------- i. 480 
 
 to Mr. Hammond iv. 555 
 
 to Philosophy ------- ii. 17SJ9 
 
 to the Sun -------- ii. 94 
 
 to Mr. Onslow *- ------ Hi. 9 
 
 to the earl of Wilmington - - - - iv. 18 
 
 Advice to the fair-sex respecting hunting - - - - Hi. 572 
 
 to young men respecting love ----- i. 980 
 
 Age, the manners of the present ------ i. 274 
 
 Anam, the pine-apple - -- -- -- -- ii. 665 
 Apetmine mountains described - - - ----- iv. 390 
 
 Atiglers, instrurtioas for ------- - 381 
 
 Argyle, the duke of, his character ----- iii. 927 
 
 Autumn, description of-------- - 27 
 
INDEX AND GLOSSARY. 
 
 ol8 
 
 Augusta, the Roman name for London — — _ _ jj 1409 
 Ausonia, a name given to Italy - jj 
 
 B. 
 
 Bees, their haunts described 
 Behemoth, the hippopotamus, or river-horse — — — 
 Birds, the different species of them described - - 
 British Cassius, Algernon Sydney, an English admiral 
 Boy deceived by a rainbow 
 
 I. 505 
 ii. no 
 
 i. 595 
 
 ii. 1527' 
 i. 211 
 
 C. 
 
 Celadon and Amelia, their melancholy story - - 
 Clouds, their use - 
 
 t^ouple, a happy, in the married state, description of. 
 Creator, the great, described, and where he dwells 
 
 - ii. 1161 
 
 - i. 260 
 i. 1110. 1136 
 
 - ii. 175 
 
 D. 
 
 Damon and Musidora, their story related - - _ _ 
 
 Daughters of Britain described 
 
 Deluge, the universal, described 
 
 Diversions, rural, described 
 
 Doddington, Mr. his country-seat described - _ _ 
 
 E. 
 
 Blephant, description of the 
 
 IjCanescent, hardly perceivable — — — — 
 
 Evening, fine, description of a summer’s - - 
 
 ii. 1270 
 ii. 1580 
 i. ^08 
 iii. 1221 
 iii. 653 
 
 ii. 721 
 ii. 1781 
 ii. 1646 
 
INDEX AND GLOSSARY. 
 
 319 
 
 F. 
 
 Fair, the British, dissuaded from the exercise of the 
 
 chase j;}, 572 
 
 , proper employments for ------ - iii. 579 
 
 Fear described - 
 
 Fly-fishing, rules for _________ ^05 
 
 Fox-hunting, a description of- - - -- -- iii. 471 
 
 Friends, social, described -------- jy. 573 
 
 Friths, a kind of fishing-nets ------- iii. g^i 
 
 Frost, what it is, described -------- iy. 71,5 
 
 G. 
 
 Ghosts, chiefly the dreams cf fancy ----- ii. 1030 
 
 Grove, a solemn, described ii. 
 
 H. 
 
 Hare-hunting described ________ iii. 40 j 
 
 Hei'tford, the countess of, addressed ----- i. 5 
 
 Hay-making, description of ii. 35^ 
 
 Harvest, a prospect of the fields ready for - - - iii. 31 
 
 Hymn to the Sun - ii. 104 
 
 /fM,s6a??dmaw, a, perishing in the snow _ - - iy. 2 b 3 . 317 
 Huntsmen, how they entertain themselves after the 
 
 chase is over - iii. 502 
 
 I. 
 
 Jealousy, the effects of, in youth ------ i. 1074 
 
 Industry, the praises of------- - hi. 72 . t 4 i 
 
320 
 
 IxNDEX AND GLOSSARY. 
 
 f . . Book. Line. 
 
 Inscription to the countess of Hertford - _ _ _ ^ 
 
 Invitation to walk in the fields early, in the spring - , i. 486 
 
 L. 
 
 Lai% the messenger of morn - }, 537 
 
 Lavinia, her affecting story 
 
 ) Palemon’s address to her 
 
 Leviathan, the whale - 
 
 Life, a country, recommended - _ _ _ ^233 
 
 , the pleasures of - ijj 1204 
 
 , compared to the seasons jy. io30 
 
 , the vanities of, their amount _ _ _ _ 209 
 
 Lights, the northern, described j 
 
 Love, a dissuasion from wild, juvenile, and irregular i. 98O 
 
 , genuine, proofs of - ^ jggg 
 
 > the matchless joys of 1’154 
 
 M. 
 
 Man, the lord of the creation - j 
 
 Afarj'iagc, the true pleasures of - i. 1115 
 
 3/dody, the voice of love - j gjj 
 
 Mirth, drunken, description of 533 
 
 Moon-light, description of - 1096 
 
 Musidora, secretly in love with Damon - - _ _ ii. 1273 
 — — , verses written by her to Damon - - _ ji, 1355 
 
 N. 
 
 Nemesis, a heathen deity, the arbiter of rewards and 
 
 punishments jj. io34 
 
INDEX AND GLOSSARY. 
 
 Sal 
 
 Book. Line. 
 
 Night, described in the spring, after a shower - - i. 21 6 
 
 Nile, the river, described ij. 305 
 
 Nutting, description of-^--- - - iji, ^517 
 
 P. 
 
 Palemon, his address to Lavinia jji, §55 
 
 Passions, the, description of------ - i. 280 
 
 Philosophy, the praises of ------- - ii. 1729 
 
 Philosophic Hfe recommended, with the advantages of it, iii. 1325 
 Ploughing, how performed - -- -- -- - i. 41 
 
 Prison, the miseries of a -------- jv. $62 
 
 Prospect, description of a rural j. 491 
 
 Pomona, the goddess of gardens ------ Ji. 
 
 R. 
 
 Rainbow, fine description of a------ - i. 203 
 
 Reaping, description of------ - - - iii. 133 
 
 Reflections on the motions of the planets - - - - ii. 1695 
 
 in praise of industry ------ iii, 43 
 
 Retirement, the proper time for ------ ii. 1396 
 
 S. 
 
 Seasons, the annual succession of the - -- -- i. 31 6 
 
 Sharks, how they seize their prey ------ ii. 1622 
 
 Skene, the old name of Richmond ------ ii. 1407 
 
 Shepherd and his flock, pleasing description of a - ii. 493 
 
 Sheep-shear itig, description of - -- -- -- ii. 397 
 
 Shipwreck, description of a - - - - - - - - ii. 1042 
 
33 « 
 
 INDEX AND GLOSSARY. 
 
 Skaiting described - j”** 
 
 Snow, description of a man perishing in the - - _ jy, 
 
 Spirits, departed, their address to man - - _ _ 
 
 State, the present, tiie infancy of being - - _ _ jj, jqqj 
 
 Stanley, a young lady well known to the author - - ii. 564 
 
 Summer insects described jj, 
 
 Swimming described and recommended - - - ii. 1250. 1256 
 Sun, tlie life of the creation 
 — , the various effects of his beams on the works 
 of nature - ^ 
 
 T. 
 
 Temple of Virtue, in Stowe Gardens, described - iii. 1048 
 Tempe and Ilemus, fields in Thessaly - - _ _ _ iij, 1315 
 
 Thaiv, a description of jy^ 
 
 Thunder, where it resides - 7pg 
 
 Typhon and Ecnephia, winds knouai only between the 
 
 tropics ii. 984 
 
 Traveller, a benighted, finely described - - _ _ iii. 1143 
 
 Trout-fishing, the time and instruments for it, described i. 376 
 
 V. 
 
 Vanities of life, their amount iy. goo 
 
 Verno}i, admiral, his fate alluded to - - _ _ _ ii. io4l 
 Virtue, the friend of man - iy. 1040 
 
 Vh'tues, description of tlie ii. 1604 
 
INDEX AND GLOSSARY. 
 
 3^.*^ 
 
 
 
 W. 
 
 Book Lid*. 
 
 Walking early in the spring, recommended - - - i. 100. 486 
 
 , in the summer, proper time for - - - - ii. 1378 
 
 , in the autumn ________ jii. pgi 
 
 Watfi'fall, description of a ------- - ii. 390 
 
 Winter, in the frigid zone, described ----- iv. 795 
 
 , rural amusements in ----- - iv. 760. 789 
 
 Woods, their appearance in autumn ----- iii. 943 
 
 Wool, the staple commodity of Great Britain - - ii. 423 
 
 Y. 
 
 Youth, the effects of love in------ - i. 983 
 
 Z. 
 
 Zone, the torrid, described - -- -- -- - ii. 632 
 
 , the frigid, description of ------ iv. 723 
 
 THE END. 
 

A i