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And all the extinguish'd stars would, loosening, reel Wide from their spheres, and chaos come again.

MORNING.

HAIL, roseate Morn! returning light,
To thee, the sable queen of night,
Reluctant yields her sway;
And as she quits the dappl❜d skies,
Thy brilliant, ruddy glories rise
To greet the dawning day.

The dew-drops, daughters of the morn,
With spangles every bush adorn,
And all the flowery vales;

To thee their notes the linnets raise,
The lark, soft trilling in thy praise,
Thy welcome rising hails.

While Nature, now in lively vest
Of glossy green, has gaily dress'd
Each tributary plain ;

While blooming flowers and blossom'd trees,
Fresh waving with the vernal breeze,
Exult beneath thy reign.

Shall I, with drowsy poppies crown'd,
By sleep in silken fetters bound,
The downy god obey?

Ah, no! through yon embowering grove
Or winding valley, let me rove,

And own thy cheerful sway.

For short-liv'd are thy pleasing powers,
Pass but a few uncertain hours,

And we no more shall trace

Thy dimple'd cheek and brow serene;
Or clouds may gloom the smiling scene,
And frowns deform thy face.

So, in life's youthful bloom and prime,
We sport away the fleeting time,
Regardless of our fate;

But by some unexpected blow,
Our giddy follies we may know,
And mourn them when too late..

RURAL SOUNDS.

Cowper.

NoT rural sights alone, but rural sounds,
Exhilarate the spirits, and restore

d;

The tone of languid nature. Mighty winds,
That sweep the skirts of some far-spreading wood.
Of ancient growth, make music, not unlike
The dash of ocean on his winding shore,
And lull the spirit while they fill the mind:
Unnumber'd branches waving in the blast,
And all their leaves fast fluttering, all at once.
Nor less composure waits upon the roar
Of distant floods; or on the softer voice
Of neighb'ring fountains, or of rills that slip
Through the cleft rock, and, chiming as they fall
Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves, at length,

H

In matted grass, that with a livelier green
Betrays the secret of their silent course.
Nature inanimate employs sweet sounds,
But animated nature sweeter still,

To soothe and satisfy the human ear.

Ten thousand warblers cheer the day; and one
The livelong night: nor those alone whose notes
Nice-finger'd art must imitate in vain,

But cawing rooks, and kites that swim sublime
In still repeated circles, screaming loud.
The jay, the pie, and e'en the boding owl

That hails the rising moon, has charms for me.
Sounds inharmonious in themselves, and harsh,
Yet heard in scenes where peace for ever reigns,
And only there, please highly for their sake.

GIPSIES.

Cowper.

I SEE a column of slow-rising smoke
O'ertop the lofty wood that skirts the wild.
A vagabond and useless tribe there eat
Their miserable meal. A kettle, slung
Between two poles upon a stick transverse,
Receives the morsel; flesh obscene of dog,
Or vermin, or, at best, of cock purloin'd
From his accustom'd perch. Hard-faring race!
They pick their fuel out of ev'ry hedge;

Which, kindled with dry leaves, just saves unquench'd

The spark of life. The sportive wind blows wide
Their fluttering rags, and shows a tawny skin,
The vellum of the pedigree they claim.
Great skill have they in palmistry, and more
To conjure clean away the gold they touch,
Conveying useless dross into its place.

Loud when they beg, dumb only when they steal.
Strange that a creature rational, and cast
In human mould, should brutalize, by choice,
His nature; and, though capable of arts
By which the world might profit, and himself,
Self-banish'd from society, prefer

Such squalid sloth to honourable toil!

Yet even these, though feigning sickness, oft
They swathe the forehead, drag the limping limb,
And vex their flesh with artificial sores,

Can change their whine into a mirthful note,
When safe occasion offers; and with dance,
And music of the bladder and the bag,

Beguile their woes, and make the woods resound.
Such health and gaiety of heart enjoy

The houseless rovers of the sylvan world;
And, breathing wholesome air, and wandering
much,

Need other physic none, to heal the effects
Of loathsome diet, penury, and cold.

MORNING WALK, AND OCCUPATIONS.

Bloomfield.

His task had Giles in fields remote from home:

Oft did he wish the rosy morn to come:

Yet never famed was he, nor foremost found
To break the seal of sleep; his sleep was sound:
But when at day-break summon'd from his bed,
Light as the lark that carroll'd o'er his head,
His sandy way, deep-worn by hasty showers,
O'er-arch'd with oaks which form'd fantastic bowers,
Waving aloft their towering branches proud,
In tinges borrow'd from the eastern cloud,
Gave inspiration pure as ever flow'd,

And genuine transport in his bosom glow'd.
His own shrill matin join'd the various notes
Of nature's music from a thousand throats.
The Blackbird strove with emulation sweet,
And Echo answer'd from his lone retreat.
The sportive whitethroat, on some twig's-end borne,
Pour'd hymns to freedom and the rising morn.
Stopt in his song, per chance the starting thrush
Shook a white shower from the black-thorn bush,
Where dew-drops, thick as early blossoms, hung,
And trembled as the minstrel sweetly sung.
Across his path, in either grove to hide,
The timid rabbit scouted by his side;

Or pheasant boldly stalk'd along the road,
Whose gold and purple tints alternate glow'd.
His simple errand done, he homeward hies;
Another instantly its place supplies.

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