Thanks to Benevolus-he fpares me yet
These chefnuts rang'd in corresponding lines;
And, though himself so polish'd, ftill reprieves
The obfolete prolixity of fhade.
Defcending now (but cautious, left too fast)
A fudden steep, upon a ruftic bridge
We pafs a gulph, in which the willows dip
Their pendent boughs, stooping as if to drink.
Hence, ancle deep in mofs and flow'ry thyme,
We mount again, and feel at ev'ry step
Our foot half funk in hillocks green and soft,
Rais'd by the mole, the miner of the foil.
He, not unlike the great ones of mankind,
Disfigures earth; and, plotting in the dark,
Toils much to earn a monumental pile,
That may record the mischiefs he has done.
The fummit gain'd, behold the proud alcove
That crowns it! yet not all its pride fecures
The grand retreat from injuries impress'd
By rural carvers, who with knives deface
The pannels, leaving an obscure, rude name,
* John Courtney Throckmorton, Esq. of Weston Underwood.
In characters uncouth, and fpelt amifs.
So ftrong the zeal t' immortalize himself
Beats in the breaft of man, that e'en a few
Few tranfient years, won from th' abyss abhorr'd
Of blank oblivion, feem a glorious prize,
And even to a clown. Now roves the eye;
And, posted on this fpeculative height,
Exults in its command.
Pours out its fleecy tenants o'er the glebe.
At first, progreffive as a stream, they seek
The middle field; but, fcatter'd by degrees,
Each to his choice, foon whiten all the land.
There, from the fun-burnt hay-field, homeward creeps
The loaded wain; while, lighten'd of its charge,
The wain that meets it paffes fwiftly by;
The boorish driver leaning o'er his team
Vocif'rous, and impatient of delay.
Nor lefs attractive is the woodland fcene,
Diversified with trees of ev'ry growth,
Alike, yet various. Here the gray fmooth trunks
Of afh, or lime, or beech, diftin&tly fhine,
Within the twilight of their distant shades ;
There, loft be ind a rifing ground, the wood
Seems funk, and fhorten'd to its topmost boughs.
No tree in all the grove but has its charms,
Though each its hue peculiar; paler fome,
Thump after thump refounds the constant fail,
That feems to fwing uncertain, and yet falls
Full
The raftling straw fends up a frequent mist
Of atoms, fparkling in the noon-day beam.
Come hither, ye that prefs your beds of down,
And fleep not; fee him fweating o'er his bread
Before he eats it.-'Tis the primal curfe,
But foften'd into mercy; made the pledge
Of cheerful days, and nights without a groan..
By ceafelefs action all that is fubfifts. Conftant rotation of th' unwearied wheel That nature rides upon maintains her health, Her beauty, her fertility. She dreads
An inftant's paufe, and lives but while fhe moves.. Its own revolvency upholds the world.
Winds from all quarters agitate the air,
And fit the limpid element for use,
Elfe noxious: oceans, rivers, lakes, and streams,
All feel the fresh'ning impulfe, and are cleans'd
By reftlefs undulation: ev'n the oak
Thrives by the rude concuffion of the storm:
He seems indeed indignant, and to feel
Th' impreffion of the blast with proud difdain,
Frowning, as if in his unconfcious arm
He held the thunder: but the monarch owes
His firm ftability to what he fcorns-
More fixt below, the more difturb'd above.
The law, by which all creatures elfe are bound,
Binds man the lord of all. Himself derives
No mean advantage from a kindred cause,
From ftrenuous toil his hours of sweetest ease.
The fedentary stretch their lazy length
When custom bids, but no refreshment find,
For none they need: the languid eye, the cheek
Deferted of its bloom, the flaccid, fhrunk,
And wither'd mufcle, and the vapid foul,
Reproach their owner with that love of reft
To which he forfeits ev'n the rest he loves.
Not fuch th' alert and active. Measure life
By its true worth, the comforts it affords,
And their's alone feems worthy of the name.
Good health, and, its affociate in most,
Good ten per; fpirits prompt to undertake,
And not foon fpent, though in an arduous task;
The pow'rs of fancy and strong thought are their's;
Ev'n age itself seems privileg'd in them,
With clear exemption from its own defects.
A fparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front
The vet'ran fhows, and, gracing a gray beard
With youthful fmiles, defcends toward the grave
Sprightly, and old almost without decay.
Like a coy maiden, ease, when courted most,
Fartheft retires an idol, at whose shrine
Who oft'neft facrifice are favour'd least.
The love of Nature, and the fcenes the draws,
Is Nature's dictate. Strange! there should be found,
Who, felf-imprison'd in their proud faloons,
Renounce the odours of the open field
For the unfcented fictions of the loom;
Who, fatisfied with only pencil'd fcenes,
Prefer to the performance of a God-
Th' inferior wonders of an artist's hand!
Lovely indeed the mimic works of art;
But Nature's works far lovelier. I admire-
None more admires the painter's magic skill,
Who shows me that which I shall never see,
Conveys a diftant country, into, mine,
And throws, Italian light on English walls:
But imitative ftrokes can do no more.
Than please the eye-fweet Nature ev'ry fenfe.
The air falubrious of her lofty hills,
The cheering fragrance of her dewy vales,
And mufic of her woods-no works of man
May rival thefe; these all bespeak ́a pow'r
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