Bricks line the sides, but shiver'd long ago,
And horrid brambles intertwine below;
A hollow scoopd, I judge in ancient time,
For baking earth, or burning rock to lime.

Not yet the hawthorn bore her berries red,
With which the fieldfare, wint’ry guest, is fed ;
Nor autumn yet had brush'd from ev'ry spray,
With her chill hand, the mellow leaves away;
But corn was hous’d, and beans were in the stack,
Now, therefore, issued forth the spotted pack,
With tails high mounted, ears hung low, and throats
With a whole gamut fill'd of heav'nly notes,
For which, alas ! my destiny severe,
Though ears she gave me two, gave me no ear.

The sun, accomplishing his early march, His lamp now planted on heav'n's topmost arch, When, exercise and air my only aim, And heedless whither, to that field I came, Ere yet with ruthless joy the happy hound Told hill and dale that Reynard's track was found,



Or with the high-raisd horn's melodious clang
All Kilwick * and all Dingle-derry * rang. ss.

Sheep graz’d the field; fome with soft bosom press’d
The herb as foft, while nibbling stray'd the rest;
Nor noise was heard but of the hasty brook, i
Struggling, detain’d'in many a petty nook.
All seem'd so peaceful, that from them convey'd
To me, their peace by kind contagion spread. ;

But when the huntsman, with distended cheek;:-. 'Gan make his instrument of music speak, : ' . And from within the wood that crash was heard, Though not a hound from whom it burst appear'd, The sheep recumbent, and the sheep that graz’d, All huddling into phalanx, ftood and gaz'd, Admiring, terrified; the novel strain, Then cours'd the field around, and cours'd it round They gather'd close around the old pit's brink, And thought again--but knew not what to think.

again ; But, recollecting with a sudden thought, That flight in circles urg'd advanc'd them nought,

* Two woods belonging to John Throckmorton, Esq.

The man to folitude accustom'd long, Perceives in ev'ry thing that lives a tongue; Not animals alone, but shrubs and trees, Have speech for him, and understood with ease; After long drought, when rains abundant fall, He hears the herbs and flowers rejoicing all ; Knows what the freshness of their hue implies, How glad they catch the largeness of the skies; But, with precision nicer still, the mind He scans of ev'ry loco-motive kind; Birds of all feather, beasts of ev'ry name, That serve mankind, or shun them, wild or tame; The looks and gestures of their griefs and fears Have, all, articulation in his ears; He spells them true by intuition's light, And needs no gloffary to set him right.

This truth premis’d was needful as a text, To win due credence to what follows next.

Awhile they mus’d; surveying ev'ry face,
Thou hadît suppos’d them of fuperior race;
Their periwigs of wool, and fears combin’d,
Stamp'd on each countenance such marks of mind,
That fage they seem’d, as lawyers o'er a doubt,
Which, puzzling long, at last they puzzle out;
Or academic tutors, teaching youths,
Sure ne'er to want them, mathematic truths;
When thus a mutton, statelier than the rest,
A ram, the ewes and wethers, fad, address’d.

Friends! we have liv'd too long. I never heard
Sounds such as these, so worthy to be fear’d.
Could I believe, that winds for ages pent
In earth's dark womb have found at last a vent,
And from their prison-house below arise,
With all these hideous howlings to the skies,
I could be much compos’d, nor should appear
For fuch a cause to feel the slightest fear.
Yourselves have seen, what time the thunders rolld
All night, me resting quiet in the fold.

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Or heard we that tremendous bray alone,
I could expound the melancholy tone ;
Should deem it by our old companion made,
The ass; for he, we know, has lately ftray'd,
And being loft, perhaps, and wand’ring wide,
Might be suppos’d to clamour for a guide.
But ah! those dreadful yells what soul can hear,
That owns a carcase, and not quake for fear?
Dæmonis produce them doubtless, brazen-claw'd
And fang’d with brass the dæmons are abroad;
I hold it, therefore, wisest and most fit, i
That, life to save, we leap into the pit.

Him answer'd then his loving mate and true, But more discreet than he, a Cambrian ewe,

How? leap into the pit our life to save ?" To save our life leap all into the grave ? For can we find it less? Contemplate first The depth how awful! falling there, we burst ; Or should the brambles, interpos’d, our fall In part abate, that happiness were small;

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