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As thus they brighten with exalted juice,
Touch'd into flavour by the mingling ray ;
The rural youth and virgins o'er the field,
Each fond for each to cull th' autumnal prime,
Exulting rove, and speak the vintage nigh.
Then comes the crushing swain; the country floats,
And foams unbounded with the mashy flood;
That by degrees fermented, and refin’d,
Round the rais'd nations
The claret smooth, red as the lip we press
In sparkling fancy, while we drain the bowl;
The mellow-tasted burgundy; and quick,
As is the wit it gives, the gay champaign.
Now, by the cool declining year condens'd,
Descend the copious exhalations, check'd
As up the middle sky unseen they stole,
And roll the doubling fogs around the hill.
No more the mountain, horrid, vast, sublime,
Who pours a sweep of rivers from his fides,
And high between contending kingdoms rears
The rocky long division, fills the view
With great variety ; but in a night
Of gathering vapour, from the baffled sense
Sinks dark and dreary. Thence expanding far,
The huge dusk, gradual, swallows up the plain :
Vanish the woods; the dim-feen river seems
Sullen, and slow, to roll the misty wave.
Even in the height of noon oppreft, the sun
Sheds weak, and blunt, his wide-refracted ray ;
Whence glaring oft, with many a broadened orb,
He frights the nations. Indistinct on earth,
Seen thro' the turbid air, beyond the life
Objects appear; and, wilder'd, o'er the waste
The shepherd stalks gigantic. Till at laft
Wreath'd dun around, in deeper circles still
Successive closing, fits the general fog
Unbounded o'er the world; and, mingling thick,
grey confusion covers all.
As when of old (fo sung the Hebrew BARD)
Light, uncollected, thro' the chaos urg'd
Its infant way; nor Order yet had drawn
His lovely train from out the dubious gloom.
These roving mists, that constant now begin
To smoke along the hilly country, these,
With weighty rains, and melted Alpine snows,
The mountain-cisterns fill, those ample stores
Of water, scoop'd among the hollow rocks ;
Whence gush the streams, the ceaseless fountains play,
And their unfailing wealth the rivers draw.
Some fages say, that, where the numerous wave
For ever lashes the resounding shore,
Drill'd thro' the sandy ftratum, every way,
The waters with the fandy ftratum rise ;
Amid wḥose angles infinitely strain’d,
They joyful leave their jaggy salts behind,
And clear and sweeten, as they soak along.
Nor stops the restless fluid, mounting ftill,
Tho' oft amidst the irriguous vale it springs;
But to the mountain courted by the sand,
That leads it darkling on in faithful maze,
Far from the parent-main it boils again
Fresh into day; and all the glittering hill
Is bright with spouting rills. But hence this vain
Amusive dream! why should the waters love
To take so far a journey to the hills,
When the sweet valleys offer to their toil
Inviting quiet, and a nearer bed?
Or if, by blind ambition led astray,
They must aspire, why should they sudden stop
Among the broken mountain's rulhy dells,
And; ere they gain its highest peak, desert
Th'attractive fand that charm’d their course so long?
Besides, the hard agglomerating salts,
The spoil of ages, would impervious choke
Their secret channels; or, by now degrees,
High as the hills protrude the swelling vales :
Old Ocean too, suck'd thro' the porous globe,
Had long ere now forsook his horrid bed,
And brought Deucalion's watry times again. 6
Say then, where lurk the vast eternal springs,
That, like CREATING NATURE, lie conceal'd
From mortal eye, yet with their lavish stores
Refresh the globe, and all its joyous tribes ?
O thou pervading Genius, given to Man,
To trace the secrets of the dark abyss,
O lay the mountains bare ! and wide display
Their hidden structure to th' astonish'd view!
Strip from the branching Alps their piny load;
The huge incumbrance of horrific woods
From Asian Taurus, from Imaus stretch'd
Athwart the roving Tartar's fullen bounds!
Give opening Hemus to my searching eye,
And high Olympus pouring many a stream!
O from the founding summits of the north,
The Dofrine Hills, thro' Scandinavia rollid
To farthest Lapland and the frozen main ;
From lofty Caucasus, far-seen by those
Who in the Caspian and black Euxine toil;
From cold Riphean Rocks, which the wild Russ
Believes the stony girdle * of the world;
And all the dreadful mountains, wrapt in storm,
Whence wide Siberia draws her lonely floods;
O sweep th' eternal snows! Hung o'er the deep,
That ever works beneath his sounding base,
Bid Atlas, propping heaven, as Poets feign,
His subterranean wonders spread! unveil
The miny caverns, blazing on the day,
Of Abyssinia's cloud compelling cliffs,
And of the bending Mountains of the Moon! +
O’ertopping all these giant-fons of earth,
Let the dire Andes, from the radiant Line
Stretch'd to the stormy seas that thunder round
The fouthern pole, their hideous deeps unfold!
Amazing scene ! Behold! the glooms disclose,
I see the rivers in their infant beds !
Deep, deep I hear them, lab'ring to get free!
I see the leaning strata, artful rang'd;
The gaping fiffures to receive the rains,
The melting snows, and ever-dripping fogs.
* The Muscovites call the Riphean Mountains Weliki Camenypoys, that is, the great fony Girdle : because they sup. pose them to encompass the whole earth.
+ A range of Mountains in Africa, that surround almost all Monomotapa.