And of a wannish gray; the willow fuch,
And poplar, that with filver lines his leaf,
And ash far-ftretching his umbrageous arm;
Of deeper green the elm; and decper ftill,
Lord of the woods, the long-furviving oak.
Some gloffy-leaved, and shining in the sun,
The maple, and the beech of oily nuts
Prolific, and the lime at dewy eve
Diffufing odours: nor unnoted pass
The fycamore, capricious in attire,
Now green, now tawny, and, ere autumn yet
Have changed the woods, in scarlet honours bright.
Over thefe, but far beyond (a spacious map
Of hill and valley interpofed between),
The Oufe, dividing the well-watered land,
Now glitters in the fun, and now retires,
As bashful, yet impatient to be seen.
Hence the declivity is sharp and short,
And fuch the re-ascent; between them weeps
A little naiad her impoverished urn
All fummer long, which winter fills again.
The folded gates would bar my progress now,
But that the lord of this enclosed demefne,
Communicative of the good he owns,
Admits me to a share; the guiltless eye
Commits no wrong, nor waftes what it enjoys,
Refreshing change! where now the blazing fun?
By short tranfition we have loft his glare,
And stepped at once into a cooler clime.
Ye fallen avenues! once more I mourn
Your fate unmerited, once more rejoice
That yet a remnant of your race furvives.
How airy and how light the graceful arch,
Yet awful as the confecrated roof
Re-echoing pious anthems! while beneath
The checquered earth seems reftlefs as a flood
Brushed by the wind. So fportive is the light
Shot through the boughs, it dances as they dance,
Shadow and funshine intermingling quick,
And darkening and enlightening, as the leaves
Play wanton, every moment, every spot.
And now, with nerves new-braced and spirits cheered, We tread the wilderness, whose well-rolled walks, With curvature of flow and easy sweep
Deception innocent-give ample space
To narrow bounds. The grove receives us next;
Between the upright shafts of whofe tall elms
We may difcern the threfher at his task.
Thump after thump refounds the conftant flail,
That seems to fwing uncertain, and yet falls
Full on the deftined ear. Wide flies the chaff,
The ruftling ftraw fends up a frequent mift
Of atoms, sparkling in the noon-day beam.
Come hither, ye that press your beds of down,
And fleep not; fee him fweating over his bread
Before he eats it.-'Tis the primal curse,
But foftened into mercy; made the pledge
Of cheerful days, and nights without a groan.
By ceaseless action all that is subfifts. Conftant rotation of the 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 ftreams,
All feel the freshening impulse, and are cleanfed
By restless undulation: even the oak
Thrives by the rude concuffion of the ftorm:
He feems indeed indignant, and to feel
The impreffion of the blaft with proud difdain,
Frowning, as if in his unconscious arm
He held the thunder: but the monarch owes
His firm ftability to what he fcorns,
More fixt below, the more difturbed 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 fweeteft ease.
The fedentary ftretch their lazy length
When cuftom bids, but no refreshment find,
For none they need: the languid eye, the cheek
Deferted of its bloom, the flaccid, shrunk,
And withered muscle, and the vapid foul,
Reproach their owner with that love of reft,
To which he forfeits even the reft he loves.
Not fuch the alert and active. Meafure life
By its true worth, the comforts it affords,
And their's alone feems worthy of the name.
Good health, and, its affociate in the moft,
Good temper; fpirits prompt to undertake,
And not foon spent, though in an arduous task;
The powers of fancy and strong thought are their's;
Even age itself feems privileged in them,
With clear exemption from its own defects.
A sparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front
The veteran shows, and, gracing a gray beard
With youthful fmiles, defcends toward the grave
Sprightly, and old almoft without decay.
Like a coy maiden, ease, when courted moft, Fartheft retires-an idol, at whose shrine
Who ofteneft facrifice are favoured leaft.
The love of Nature, and the fcenes fhe draws,
Is nature's dictate. Strange! there should be found,
Who, felf-imprisoned in their proud faloons,
Renounce the odours of the open field
For the unfcented fictions of the loom;
Who, fatisfied with only pencilled scenes,
Prefer to the performance of a God
The inferior wonders of an artift'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 fhows me that which I shall never fee,
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's every sense.
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 power
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