Then to the shelter of the hut he fled;
And the wild season, sordid, pined away,
For home he had not; home is the resort
Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where,
Supporting and supported, polish'd friends, f
And dear relations, mingle into bliss.

But this the rugged savage never felt,
E'en desolate in crowds; and thus his days
Roll'd heavy, dark, and unenjoy'd along
A waste of time! till industry approach'd,
And rous'd him from his miserable sloth;
His faculties unfolded; pointed out,
Where lavish Nature the directing hand
Of Art demanded; show'd him how to raise
His feeble force by the mechanic powers,
To dig the mineral from the vaulted earth;
On what to turn the piercing rage of fire;
On what the torrent, and the gather'd blast
Gave the tall ancient forest to his axe;

+

Taught him to chip the wood, and hew the stone,
Till by degrees the finish'd fabric rose;
Tore from his limbs the blood-polluted fur,
And wrapp'd them in the woolly vestment warm,
Or bright in glossy silk, and flowing lawn;
With wholesome viands fill'd his table; pour'd.
The generous glass around, inspired to wake
The life-refining soul of decent wit;

Nor stopp'd at barren bare necessity;

But still advancing bolder, led him on

To pomp, to pleasure, el
elegance, and grace; Anod Di

And, breathing high ambition through his soul,......
Set science, wisdom, glory, in his view,

And bade him be the Lord of all below.

Then gathering men their natural powers combined, And form'd a Public; to the general good Submitting, aiming, and conducting all. For this the Patriot Council met, the full, The free, and fairly represented Whole; For this they plann'd the holy guardian laws, Distinguish'd orders, animated arts, And with joint force Oppression chaining, set Imperial Justice at the helm; yet still To them accountable: nor, slavish, dream'd That toiling millions must resign their weal, And all the honey of their search, to such As for themselves alone themselves have raised. Hence every form of cultivated life In order set, protected, and inspired, Into perfection wrought. Uniting all, Society grew numerous, high, polite, And happy. Nurse of art! the city rear'd In beauteous pride her tower-encircled head; And, stretching street on street, by thousands drew, From twining woody haunts, or the tough yew To bows strong straining, her aspiring sons.

Then Commerce brought into the public walk The busy merchant; the big warehouse built;

I

Raised the strong crane; choked up the loaded street
With foreign plenty; and thy stream, O Thames,
Large, gentle, deep, majestic king of floods!.
Chose for his grand resort. On either hand,
Like a long wintry forest, groves of masts
Shot up their spires; the bellying sheet between
Possess'd the breezy void: the sooty hulk
Steer'd sluggish on; the splendid barge along
Row'd, regular, to harmony; around,

"

The boat, light skimming, stretch'd its oary wings;7
While deep the various voice of fervent toil
From bank to bank increased; whence ribb'd with oak,
To bear the British thunder, black, and bold,
The roaring vessel rush'd into the main,

Then too the pillar'd dome, magnific, heaved
Its ample roof; and Luxury within

Pour'd out her glittering stores: the canvass smooth, With glowing life protuberant, to the view Embodied rose; the statue seem'd to breathe,

And soften into flesh, beneath the touch

Of forming art, imagination flush'd.

All is the gift of Industry; whate'er
Exalts, embellishes, and renders life
Delightful. Pensive Winter cheer'd by him
Sits at the social fire, and happy hears
The' excluded tempest idly rave along; ot

His harden'd fingers deck the gaudy Springs to O
Without him Summer were an arid waste won ted!!
Nor to the' Autumnal months could thus transmit

Those full, mature, immeasurable stores,
That, waving round, recall my wandering song.

Soon as the morning trembles o'er the sky,
And, unperceived, unfolds the spreading day;
Before the ripen'd field the reapers stand,
In fair array; each by the lass he loves,
To bear the rougher part, and mitigate
By nameless gentle offices her toil.

At once they stoop and swell the lusty sheaves; While through their cheerful band the rural talk, • The rural scandal, and the rural jest,

Fly harmless, to deceive the tedious time,
And steal unfelt the sultry hours away.
Behind the master walks, builds up the shocks;
And, conscious, glancing oft on every side
His sated eye, feels his heart heave with joy.
The gleaners spread around, and here and there,
Spike after spike, their scanty harvest pick.
Be not too narrow, husbandmen! but fling
From the full sheaf, with charitable stealth,
The liberal handful. Think, oh, grateful think!
How good the God of Harvest is to you;
Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields;
While these unhappy partners of your kind
Wide hover round you, like the fowls of heaven,
And ask their humble dole. The various turns
Of fortune ponder; that your sons may want
What now, with hard reluctance, faint, ye givendr

nenst evt bives adtnom isun guh ledt03 1

The lovely young Lavinia once had friends;
And Fortune smiled, deceitful, on her birth.
For, in her helpless years deprived of all,
Of every stay, save Innocence and Heaven, 4
She, with her widow'd mother, feeble, old,
And poor, lived in a cottage, far retired
Among the windings of a woody vale;
By solitude and deep surrounding shades,
But more by bashful modesty conceal'd.
Together thus they shunn'd the cruel scorn
Which virtue, sunk to poverty, would meet
From giddy passion and low-minded pride:
Almost on Nature's common bounty fed;

Like the gay birds that sung them to repose,
Content, and careless of to-morrow's fare.
Her form was fresher than the morning rose,
When the dew wets its leaves; unstain'd and pure,
As is the lily, or the mountain snow.

The modest Virtues mingled in her eyes,
Still on the ground dejected, darting all
Their humid beams into the blooming flowers:
Or when the mournful tale her mother told,
Of what her faithless fortune promised once,
Thrill'd in her thought, they, like the dewy star
Of evening shone in tears. A native grace
Sat fair-proportion'd on her polish'd limbs,
Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire,
Beyond the pomp of dress; for loveliness
ben bas,blisvnq How