SUMMER. FROM bright'ning fields of ether fair disclos'd, And ever-fanning breezes, on his way; While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring Averts her blushful face; and earth, and skies, All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves. Hence, let me haste into the mid-wood shade, Where scarce a sun-beam wanders thro' the gloom; And on the dark-green grass, beside the brink Of haunted stream, that by the roots of oak Rolls o'er the rocky channel, lie at large, And sing the glories of the circling year. Come, inspiration! from thy hermit-seat, By mortal seldom found: may fancy dare, From thy fix'd serious eye, and raptur'd glance Shot on surrounding heav'n, to steal one look Creative of the poet, ev'ry power Exalting to an ecstasy of soul. And thou, my youthful muse's early friend, In whom the human graces all unite: Pure light of mind, and tenderness of heart; Genius, and wisdom; the gay social sense, By decency chastis'd; goodness and wit, In seldom-meeting harmony combin❜d; Unblemish'd honour, and an active zeal For Britain's glory, liberty, and man: O Dodington! attend my rural song, Stoop to my theme, inspirit ev'ry line, And teach me to deserve thy just applause. With what an awful world-revolving pow'r Were first th' unwieldy planets launch'd along Th' illimitable void! Thus to remain, Amid the flux of many thousand years, That oft has swept the toiling race of men, And all their labour'd monuments away, Firm, unremitting, matchless, in their course; To the kind-temper'd change of night and day, And of the Seasons ever stealing round, And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze, The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top Blue, thro' the dusk, the smoking currents shine; And from the bladed field the fearful hare Limps, awkward: while along the forest-glade The native voice of undissembled joy; And thick around the woodland hymns arise. Rous'd by the cock, the soon-clad shepherd leaves For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise? The fleeting moments of too short a life; Wilder'd, and tossing through distemper'd dreams? But yonder comes the pow'rful king of day, Rejoicing in the east. The less'ning cloud, The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow Illum'd with fluid gold, his near approach Betoken glad. Lo! now, apparent all, Aslant the dew-bright earth, and colour'd air, He looks in boundless majesty abroad; 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! Efflux divine! Nature's resplendent robe! "Tis by thy secret, strong, attractive force, Without whose quick'ning glance their cumbrous orbs Were brute unlovely mass, inert and dead, |