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The kings, and awful fathers of mankind:

And fome, with whom compar'd your infect-tribes 60
Are but the beings of a fummer's day,

Have held the fcale of empire, rul'd the ftorm
Of mighty war; then, with unwearied hand,
Difdaining little delicacies, feiz'd

The plough, and greatly independent liv'd.

YE generous BRITONS, venerate the plough; And o'er your hills, and long withdrawing vales, Let Autumn spread his treasures to the sun, Luxuriant and unbounded: as the fea,

Far thro' his azure turbulent domain,

Your empire owns, and from a thousand shores
Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports;
So with fuperior boon may your rich foil,
Exuberant, Nature's better bleffings pour
O'er every land, the naked nations cloathe,
And be th' exhaustless granary of a world!

NOR only thro' the lenient air this change,
Delicious, breathes; the penetrative fun,
His force deep-darting to the dark retreat
Of vegetation, fets the fteaming Power

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At large, to wander o'er the vernant earth,
In various hues; but chiefly thee, gay Green!
Thou fmiling Nature's univerfal robe!
United light and fhade! where the fight dwells.
With growing ftrength, and ever-new delight.

FROM the moift meadow to the withered hill,
Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs,
And fwells, and deepens, to the cherish'd eye,
The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves
Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees,
Till the whole leafy foreft ftands display'd,
In full luxuriance to the fighing gales;
Where the deer ruftle thro' the twining brake,
And the birds fing conceal'd. At once, array'd
In all the colours of the flushing year,

By Nature's swift and fecret-working hand,
The garden glows, and fills the liberal air
With lavish fragrance; while the promis'd fruit
Lies yet a little embryo, unperceiv'd,

Within its crimfon folds. Now from the town
Buried in fmoke, and fleep, and noifom damps,
Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields,

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Where freshness breathes, and dafh the trembling drops.

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From the bent buíh, as thro' the verdant maze 105
Of sweet-briar hedges I pursue my walk;

Or taste the finell of dairy; or ascend
Some eminence, AUGUSTA, in thy plains,

And fee the country, far diffus'd around,

One boundless blufh, one white-empurpled fhower 110
Of mingled bloffoms; where the raptur❜d eye
Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath
The fair profufion, yellow Autumn spies :

IF, brufh'd from Ruffian wilds, a cutting gale
Rife not, and scatter from his humid wings
The clammy mildew; or, dry-blowing, breathe
Untimely froft; before whose baleful blast
The full-blown Spring thro all her foliage fhrinks,
Joylefs and dead, a wide-dejected waste.
For oft, engender'd by the hazy north,
Myriads on myriads, infect armies warp
Keen in the poifon'd breeze; and wasteful eat,
Thro' buds and bark, into the blackened core,

Their eager way. A feeble race! yet oft

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The facred fons of vengeance; on whose course 125 Corrofive famine waits, and kills the year.

To check this plague the fkilful farmer chaff,

And

And blazing ftraw, before his orchard burns;
Till, all involv'd in fmoke, the latent foe
From every cranny fuffocated falls :

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Or scatters o'er the blooms the pungent duft

Of pepper, fatal to the frofty tribe:

Or, when th' envenom'd leaf begins to curl,

With sprinkled water drowns them in their neft;
Nor, while they pick them up with busy bill, 135
The little trooping birds unwifely fcares,

Be patient, fwains; these cruel-seeming winds Blow not in vain. Far hence they keep reprefs'd Thofe deepening clouds on clouds, furcharg'd with rain, That o'er the vaft Atlantic hither borne,

In endless train, would quench the fummer-blaze,
And, chearless, drown the crude unripened year,

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THE north-eaft fpends his rage; he now fhut up Within his iron caye, th' effufive fouth Warms the wide air, and o'er the void of heaven 145 Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers diftent, At first a dusky wreath they seem to rise, Scarce ftaining ether; but by fwift degrees, In heaps on heaps, the doubling vapour fails

Along

Along the loaded sky, and mingling deep
Sits on th' horizon round a fettled gloom :
Not fuch as wintry-ftorms on mortals fhed,
Oppreffing life; but lovely, gentle, kind,
And full of every hope and every joy,

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The wifh of Nature. Gradual finks the breeze 155 Into a perfect calm; that not a breath

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Is heard to quiver through the clofing woods,
Or rustling turn the many-twinkling leaves
Of afpin tall. Th' uncurling floods, diffus'd
In glaffy breadth, feem thro' delufive lapse
Forgetful of their courfe. 'Tis filence all,
And pleafing expectation. Herds and flocks
Drop the dry fprig, and mute-imploring eye
The falling verdure. Hush'd in short suspense,
The plumy people streak their wings with oil, 165
To throw the lucid moisture trickling off;

And wait th' approaching fign to strike at once,
Into the general choir. Even mountains, vales,
And forests seem, impatient, to demand
The promis'd sweetness. Man fuperior walks

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Amid the glad creation, mufing praise,

And looking lively gratitude. At last,

The clouds confign their treasures to the fields;

And,

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