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Shall proftrate Nature groan beneath your rage,
Awaiting renovation? When obliged,
Muft you deftroy? Of their ambrofial food
Can you not borrow; and, in juft return,
Afford them fhelter from the wintry winds;
Or, as the sharp year pinches, with their own
Again regale them on fome smiling day?
See where the ftony bottom of their town
Looks defolate, and wild; with here and there
A helpless number, who the ruin'd state
Survive, lamenting weak, caft out to death.
Thus, a proud city, populous and rich,

Full of the works of peace, and high in joy,
At theatre or feast, or funk in sleep,

(As late, Palermo, was thy fate) is feiz'd

By fome dread earthquake, and convulfive hurl'd
Sheer from the black foundation, ftench-involv'd,
Into a gulph of blue fulphureous flame.

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HENCE every harfher fight! for now the day, O'er heaven and earth diffus'd, grows warm, and high, Infinite fplendor! wide invefting all.

How still the breeze! save what the filmy threads

Of dew evaporate brushes from the plain.
O

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How

How clear the cloudless sky! how deeply ting'd

With a peculiar blue! the ethereal arch
How fwell'd immenfe! amid whofe azure thron'd
The radiant fun how gay! how calm below
The gilded earth! the harvest-treasures all 1215
Now gather'd in, beyond the rage of ftorms,
Sure to the fwain; the circling fence shut up;
And inftant Winter's utmost rage defy'd.

While, loose to feftive joy, the country round
Laughs with the loud fincerity of mirth,

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Shook to the wind their cares. The toil-ftrung youth

By the quick sense of music taught alone,

Leaps wildly graceful in the lively dance.

Her every charm abroad, the village-toaft,

Young, buxom, warm, in native beauty rich, 1225.
Darts not-unmeaning looks; and, where her eye
Points an approving smile, with double force,
The cudgel rattles, and the wrestler twines.

`Age too fhines out; and, garrulous, recounts

The feats of youth. Thus they rejoice; nor think

That, with to-morrow's fun, their annual toil 1231 Begins again the never-ceafing round.

OH knew he but his happinefs, of Men

The

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The happiest he! who far from public rage,
Deep in the vale, with a choice Few retir'd,
Drinks the pure pleasures of the RURAL LIFE.
What tho' the dome be wanting, whofe proud gate,
Each morning, vomits out the sneaking crowd
Of flatterers falfe, and in their turn abus'd?
Vile intercourse! What tho' the glittering robe, 1240
Of every hue reflected light can give,

Or floating loofe, or stiff with mazy gold,

The pride and gaze of fools! oppress him not?
What tho', from utmost land and fea purvey'd,
For him each rarer tributary life

Bleeds not, and his infatiate table heaps
With luxury, and death? What tho' his bowl
Flames not with coftly juice; nor funk in beds,
Oft of gay care, he toffes out the night,
Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle state?
What tho' he knows not those fantastic joys,
That ftill amuse the wanton, ftill deceive;
A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain;
Their hollow moments undelighted all?
Sure peace is his; a folid life, estranged
To disappointment, and fallacious hope :
Rich in content, in Nature's bounty rich,

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In herbs and fruits; whatever greens the Spring, When heaven defcends in fhowers; or bends the bough When Summer reddens, and when Autumn beams; Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies

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Conceal'd, and fattens with the richest fap:
These are not wanting; nor the milky drove,
Luxuriant, spread o'er all the lowing vale ;
Nor bleating mountains; nor the chide of ftreams,
And hum of bees, inviting fleep fincere
Into the guiltless breaft, beneath the shade,
Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay;

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Nor ought befides of profpect, grove, or song,
Dim grottoes, gleaming lakes, and fountain clear. 1270
Here too dwells fimple truth; plain innocence;

Unfullied beauty; found unbroken youth,
Patient of labour, with a little pleas'd;
Health ever blooming; unambitious toil;

Calm contemplation, and poetic ease.

LET others brave the flood in quest of gain, And beat, for joyless months, the gloomy wave. Let such as deem it glory to destroy,

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Rufh into blood, the fack of cities feek;

Unpierc'd, exulting in the widow's wail,

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The

The virgin's fhriek, and infant's trembling cry.
Let fome, far-diftant from their native foil,
Urg'd or by want or hardened avarice,
Find other lands beneath another fun.
Let this through cities work his eager way,
By legal outrage and establish'd guile,
The focial fenfe extinct; and that ferment
Mad into tumult the feditious herd,
Or melt them down to flavery. Let thefe
Infnare the wretched in the toils of law,
Fomenting difcord, and perplexing right,
An iron race! and those of fairer front,
But equal inhumanity, in courts,

Delufive pomp, and dark cabals, delight;

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Wreathe the deep bow, diffuse the lying fmile, 1295

And tread the weary labyrinth of state.

While he, from all the ftormy paffions free

That reftless Men involve, hears, and but hears,
At distance fafe, the human tempeft roar,
Wrapt close in confcious peace. The fall of kings,
The rage of nations, and the crush of ftates,

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Move not the Man, who, from the world efcap'd,
In ftill retreats, and flowery folitudes,

To Nature's voice attends, from month to month,

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