18

The most delicious morsel to their young;
Which, equally distributed, again

The search begins. Even so a gentle pair,
By fortune sunk, but form'd of generous mould,
And charm'd with cares beyond the vulgar breast,
In some lone cot amid the distant woods,
Sustain'd alone by providential Heaven,
Oft, as they weeping eye their infant train,
Check their own appetites, and give them all.
Nor toil alone they scorn: exalting love,
By the great Father of the Spring inspired,
Gives instant courage to the fearful race,
And to the simple, art. With stealthy wing
Should some rude foot their woody haunts molest,
Amid a neighbouring bush they silent drop,
And, whirring thence, as if alarm'd, deceive
Th' unfeeling school-boy. Hence around the head
Of wandering swain the white-wing'd plover wheels
Her sounding flight, and then directly on
[hence,
In long excursion skims the level lawn,
To tempt him from her nest. The wild duck,
O'er the rough moss, and o'er the trackless waste
The heath-hen flutters (pious fraud,) to lead-
The hot-pursuing spaniel far astray.

Be not the muse ashamed, here to bemoan
Her brothers of the grove, by tyrant man
Inhuman caught, and in the narrow cage
From liberty confined, and boundless air.
Dull are the pretty slaves, their plumage dull,
Ragged, and all its brightening lustre lost;
Nor is that sprightly wildness in their notes,
Which, clear and vigorous, warbles from the beech.
O then, ye friends of love, and love-taught song,
Spare the soft tribes; this barbarous art forbear;
If on your bosom innocence can win,
Music engage, or piety persuade.

But let not chief the nightingale lament
Her ruin'd care, too delicately framed
To brook the harsh confinement of the cage.
Oft when, returning with her loaded bill,
The astonish'd mother finds a vacant nest,
By the hard hand of unrelenting clowns
Robb'd, to the ground the vain provision falls;
Her pinions ruffle, and, low drooping, scarce
Can bear the mourner to the poplar shade;
Where, all abandon'd to despair, she sings

Her sorrows through the night; and, on the bough Sole sitting, still at every dying fall

Takes up again her lamentable strain

Of winding wo; till, wide around, the woods
Sigh to her song, and with her wail resound.
But now the feather'd youth their former bounds,
Ardent, disdain; and, weighing oft their wings,
Demand the free possession of the sky:

This one glad office more, and then dissolves
Parental love at once, now needless grown:
Unlavish wisdom never works in vain.
"Tis on some evening, sunny, grateful, mild,
When nought but balm is breathing thro' the woods,
With yellow lustre bright, that the new tribes
Visit the spacious heavens, and look abroad
On nature's common, far as they can see,
Or wing, their range and pasture. O'er the bougha
Dancing about, still at the giddy verge

Their resolution fails; their pinions still,
In loose libration stretch'd, to trust the void,
Trembling refuse: till down before them fly
The parent guides, and chide, exhort, command,
Or push them off. The surging air receives
Its plumy burden; and their self-taught wings
Winnow the waving element. On ground
Alighted, bolder up again they lead,
Farther and farther on, the lengthening flight;
Till vanish'd every fear, and every power
Rcused into life and action, light in air
Th' acquitted parents see their soaring race,
And, once rejoicing, never know them more.
High from the summit of a craggy cliff
Hung o'er the deep, such as amazing frowns
On utmost Kilda's shore, whose lonely race
Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds,
The royal eagle draws his vigorous young,
Strong pounced, and ardent with paternal fire.
Now-fit to raise a kingdom of their own,

He drives them from his fort, the towering seat,
For ages, of his empire; which, in peace,
Unstain'd he holds, while many a league to sea
He wings his course, and preys in distant isles.
Should I my steps turn to the rural seat,

*The farthest of the western islands of Scotland.

20

Whose lofty elms and venerable oaks
Invite the rock, who, high amid the boughs
In early spring his airy city builds,

And ceaseless caws amusive; there, well-pleas'd,
I might the various polity survey

Of the mix'd household kind.

The careful hen Calls all her chirping family around,

Fed and defended by the fearless cock;

Whose breast with ardour flames, as on he walks,
Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond,
The finely-checker'd duck before her train
Rows garrulous. The stately-sailing swan
Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale;
And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet
Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier isle,
Protective of his young. The turkey nigh,
Loud threatening, reddens; while the peacock
[spreads
His every-colour'd glory to the sun,
And swims in radiant majesty along.

O'er the whole homely scene, the cooing dove
Flies thick in amorous chace, and wanton'rolls
The glancing eye, and turns the changeful neck.
While thus the gentle tenants of the shade
Indulge their purer loves, the rougher world
Of brutes below rush furious into flame,
And fierce desire. Through all his lusty veins
The bull, deep-scorch'd, the raging passion feels.
Of pasture sick, and negligent of food,

Scarce seen, he wades among the yellow broom,
While o'er his ample sides the rambling sprays
Luxuriant shoot; or through the mazy wood
Dejected wanders, nor th' enticing bud
Crops, though it presses on his careless sense.
And oft in jealous maddening fancy wrapp'd,
He seeks the fight; and, idly butting, feigns
His rival gored in every knotty trunk.
Him should he meet, the bellowing war begins:
Their eyes flash fury; to the hollow'd earth,
Whence the sand flies, they mutter bloody deeds,
And groaning deep th' impetuous battle mix:
While the fair heifer, balmy breathing, near,
Stands kindling up their rage. The trembling steed,
With his hot impulse seized in every nerve,
Nor heeds the rein, nor hears the sounding thong;
Blows are not felt; but, tossing high his head,
And by the well-known joy to distant plains

Attracted strong, all wild he bursts away;
O'er rocks, and woods, and craggy mountains flies;
And, neighing, on the aerial summit takes

Th' exciting gale; then, steep descending, cleaves
The headlong torrents foaming down the hills,
Even where the madness of the straiten'd stream
Turns in black eddies round: such is the force
With which his frantic heart and sinews swell.
Nor undelighted by the boundless Spring
Are the broad monsters of the foaming deep:
From the deep coze and gelid cavern roused,
They flounce and tumble in unwieldy joy.

Dire were the strain, and dissonant, to sing
The cruel raptures of the savage kind:

How, by this flame their native wrath 'sublimed,
They roam, amid the fury of their heart,
The far-resounding waste, in fiercer bands,
And grow! their horrid loves. But this the theme
I sing, enraptured, to the British fair,

Forbids; and leads me to the mountain brow,
Where sits the shepherd on the grassy turf,
Inhaling, healthful, the descending sun.
Around him feeds his many-bleating flock,
Of various cadence; and his sportive lambs,
This way and that convolved, in friskful glee,
Their frolics play. And now the sprightly race
Invites them forth; when swift, the signal given,
They start away, and sweep the massy mound
That runs around the hill; the rampart once
Of iron war, in ancient barbarous times,
When disunited Britain ever bled,

Lost in eternal broil: ere yet she grew
To this deep-fald indissoluble state,

[beads,

Where wealth and commerce lift their golden And o'er our labours liberty and law,

Impartial, watch; the wonder of a world!

What is this mighty breath, ye sages say,

That, in a powerful language, felt, not heard,

Instructs the fowls of heaven; and thro' their breast
These arts of love diffuses? What, but God?
Inspiring God? who, boundless spirit all,
And unremitting energy, pervades,

Adjusts, sustains, and agitates the whole.
He ceaseless works alone: and yet alone

Seems not to work; with such perfection framed
Is this complex stupendous scheme of things.

But, though conceal'd to every purer eye
Th' informing Author in his works appears;
Chief, lovely Spring, in thee, and thy soft scenes,
The smiling God is seen, while water, earth,
And air, attest his bounty; which exalts
The brute creation to this finer thought,
And annual melts their undesigning hearts
Profusely thus in tenderness and joy.

Still let my song a nobler note assume,
And sing thinfusive force of Spring on man:
When heaven and earth, as if contending, vie,
To raise his being, and serene his soul,
Can he forbear to join the general smile
Of nature? Can fierce passions vex his breast,
While every gale is peace, and every grove
Is melody Hence from the bounteous walks
Cf flowing Spring, ye sordid sons of earth,
Hard, and unfeeling of another's wo;
Or only lavish to yourselves; away!

[thought,

But come, ye generous minds, in whose wide
Of all his works, creative bounty burns

With warmest beam, and on your open front
And liberal eye, sits, from his dark retreat
Inviting modest Want. Nor till invoked
Can restless goodness wait: your active search
Leaves no cold wintry corner unexplored:
Like silent-working Heaven, surprising oft
The lonely heart with unexpected good.
For you the roving spirit of the wind

Blows Spring abroad; for you the teeming clouds
Descend in gladsome plenty o'er the world;
And the sun sheds his kindest rays for you,
Ye flower of human race! In these green days
Reviving Sickness lifts her languid head;
Life flows afresh; and young-eyed Health exalts
The whole creation round. Contentment walks
The sunny glade, and feels an inward bliss
Spring o'er her heart, beyond the power of kings
To purchase. Pure serenity apace
Induces thought, and contemplation still.
By swift degrees the love of nature works,
And warms the bosom; till at last sublimed
To rapture and enthusiastic heat,

We feel the present Deity, and taste
The joy of God to see a happy world!

These are the sacred feelings of thy heart,