Or through th' unshelter'd glade, impatient, seem To hurl into the covert of the grove.

All-conqu❜ring heat, oh intermit thy wrath! And on my throbbing temples potent thus Beam not so fierce! Incessant still you flow, And still another fervent flood succeeds,

Pour'd on the head profuse. In vain I sigh,
And restless turn, and look around for night;
Night is far off; and hotter hours approach.
Thrice happy he! who on the sunless side
Of a romantic mountain, forest-crown'd,
Beneath the whole collected shade reclines:
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,
Who keeps his temper'd mind serene, and pure,
And ev'ry passion aptly harmoniz'd,

Amid a jarring world with vice inflam'd.

Welcome, ye shades! ye bow'ry thickets, hail!

Ye lofty pines! ye venerable oaks!

Ye ashes wild, resounding o'er the steep!

Delicious is your shelter to the soul,
As to the hunted hart the sallying spring,
Or stream full-flowing, that his swelling sides
Laves, as he floats along the herbag'd brink.
Cool, thro' the nerves, your pleasing comfort glides;
The heart beats glad; the fresh-expanded eye
And ear resume their watch; the sinews knit;
And life shoots swift thro' all the lighten'd limbs.
Around th' adjoining brook, that purls along

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,
Rural confusion! On the grassy bank

Some ruminating lie; while others stand
Half in the flood, and often bending sip
The circling surface. In the middle droops
The strong laborious ox, of honest front,
Which incompos'd he shakes; and from his sides
The troublous insects lashes with his tail,

Returning still.. Amid his subjects safe,

Slumbers the monarch swain; his careless arm

Thrown round his head, on downy moss sustain'd; Here laid his scrip, with wholesome viands fill'd; There, list'ning ev'ry noise, his watchful dog. Light fly his slumbers, if perchance a flight

Of

angry gad-flies fasten on the herd;

That startling scatters from the shallow brook,
In search of lavish stream. Tossing the foam,
They scorn the keeper's voice, and scour the plain,
Through all the bright severity of noon;
While, from their lab'ring breasts, a hollow moan
Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills.

Oft in this season too the horse, provok'd, While his big sinews full of spirits swell, Trembling with vigour, in the heat of blood, Springs the high fence; and, o'er the field effus'd,

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.

Still let me pierce into the midnight depth

G

Of yonder grove, of wildest largest growth:
That, forming high in air a woodland quire,
Nods o'er the mount beneath. At ev'ry step,
Solemn, and slow, the shadows blacker fall,
And all is awful list'ning gloom around.

These are the haunts of meditation, these
The scenes where ancient bards th' inspiringbreath,
Ecstatic, felt; and, from this world retir'd,
Convers'd with angels, and immortal forms,
On gracious errands bent: to save the fall
Of virtue struggling on the brink of vice;
In waking whispers, and repeated dreams,
To hint pure thought, and warn the favour'd soul
For future trials fated to prepare;

To prompt the poet, who devoted gives

His muse to better themes; 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;
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
A sacred terror, a severe delight,

Creep through my mortal frame; and thus, me

thinks,

A voice, than human more, th' abstracted ear
Of fancy strikes. "Be not of us afraid,
Poor kindred man! thy fellow-creatures, we
From the same parent-pow'r 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,
Where purity and peace immingle charms.
Then fear not us; 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.
Here frequent, at the visionary hour,

When musing midnight reigns or silent noon,
Angelic harps are in full concert heard,

And voices chanting from the wood-crown'd hill, The deep'ning dale, or inmost sylvan glade:

A privilege bestow'd by us, alone,