« ForrigeFortsett »
A farm some twenty miles from town,
Small, tight, falubrious, and my own ;
Two maids, that never saw the town,
A serving man not quite a clown,
A boy to help to tread the mow,
And drive, while other holds the plough ;
A chief, of temper form’d to please,
Fit to converse, and keep the keys ;
And better to preserve the peace,
Commission'd by the name of niece ;
With understandings of a fize
To think their master very wise.
May heav'n (it's all I wish for) send
One genial room to treat a friend,
Where decent cup-board, little plate,
Display benevolence, not state.
And may my humble dwelling stand
Upon some chosen fpot of land:
A pond before full to the brim,
Where cows may cool, and geese may swim:
Behind, a green like velvet neat,
Soft to the eye, and to the feet;
Where od'rous plants in evening fair
Breathe all around ambrofial air;
From Eurus, foe to kitchen ground,
Fenc'd by a flope with bushes crown'd,
Fit dwelling for the feather'd throng,
Who pay their quit-rents with a fong;
With op'ning views of hill and dale,
Which sense and fancy too regale,
Where the half-cirque, which vifion bounds,
Like amphitheatre furrounds:
And woods impervious to the breeze,
Thick phalanx of embodied trees,
From hills through plains in dufk array
Extended far, repel the day.
Here ftillness, height, and folemn shade
Invite, and contemplation aid :
Here nymphs from hollow oaks relate
The dark decrees and will of fate,
And dreams beneath the spreading beech
Inspire, and docile fancy teach;
While soft as breezy breath of wind,
Impulses rustle through the mind :
Here Dryads, scorning Phæbus' ray,
While Pan melodious pipes away,
In measur'd motions frisk about,
'Till old Silenus puts them out.
There see the clover, pea, and bean,
Vie in variety of green;
Fresh pastures speckled o’er with sheep,
Brown fields their fallow fabbaths keep,
Plump Ceres golden tresses wear,
And poppy top-knots deck her hair,
And silver-streams through meadows stray,
And Naids on the margin play,
And lesser nymphs on side of hills
From play-thing urns pour down the rills.
Thus shelter'd, free from care and strife,
May I enjoy a calm through life ;
See faction, safe in low degree,
As men at land fee storms at fea,
And laugh at miserable elves,
Not kind, so much as to themselves,
Curs’d with such fouls of base alloy,
As can possess, but not enjoy ;
Debarr'd the pleasure to impart
By av'rice, sphincter of the heart,
Who wealth, hard earn’d by guilty cares,
Bequeath untouch'd to thankless heirs.
May I, with look ungloom'd by guile,
And wearing Virtue's liv'ry smile,
Prone the distressed to relieve,
And little trefpaffes forgive,
With income not in Fortune's pow'r,
And skill to make a busy hour,
With trips to town life to amuse,
To purchase books, and hear the news,
To see old friends, brush off the clown,
And quicken tafte at coming down,
Unhurt by fickness' blasting rage,
And slowly mellowing into age,
When Fate extends its gathering gripe,
Fall off like fruit grown fully ripe,
Quit a worn being without pain,
In hope to blossom soon again.
ILENT nymph, with curious eye!
Who, the purple ey’ning, lie On the mountain's lonely van, Beyond the noise of busy man, Painting fair the form of things, While the yellow linnet fings;
Or the tuneful nightingale
Charms the forest with her tale;
Come with all thy various hues,
Come and aid thy fifter Muse:
Now while Phæbus riding high
Gives lustre to the land and sky!
Grongar Hill invites my song,
Draw the landskip bright and strong i
Grongar, in whose moffy cells
Sweetly musing Quiet dwells;
Grongar, in whose filent shade,
For the modest Muses made,
So oft I have, the evening still,
At the fountain of a rill,
Sate upon a flow'ry bed,
head; While stray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood, Over mead, and over wood, From house to house, from hill to hill, 'Till contemplation had her fill.
About his chequer'd fides I wind And leave his brooks and meads behind, And groves and grottoes where I lay, And vistoes shooting beams of day: Wide and wider spreads the vale ; As circles on a smooth canal; The mountains round, unhappy fate ! Sooner or later, of all height, Withdraw their summits from the skies, And lefsen as the others rise; Still the prospect wider spreads, Adds a thousand woods and meads,
Still it widens, widens still,
And sinks the newly-risen hill.
Now, I gain the mountain's brow;
What a landskip lies below!
No clouds, no vapours intervene,
Does the face of nature show,
In all the hues of heaven's bow !
And, swelling to embrace the light,
Spreads around beneath the fight.
Old castles on the cliffs arise,
Proudly tow'ring in the skies!
Rushing from the woods, the spires
Seem from hence ascending fires !
Half his beams Apollo sheds
On the yellow mountain-heads !
Gilds the fleeces of the flocks,
And glitters on the broken rocks!
Below me trees unnumber'd rise,
Beautiful in various dyes :
The gloomy pine, the poplar blue,
The yellow beech, the fable yew,
The slender fir, that taper grows,
The fturdy oak, with broad-spread boughs,
And beyond, the purple grove,
Haunt of Phillis, queen of love!
Gaudy as the op’ning dawn,
Lies a long and level lawn,
On which a dark hill, steep and high,
Holds and charms the wand'ring eye;
Deep are his feet in Towy's flood,
His fides are cloth'd with waving wood,