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In worlds inclos'd fhould on his fenfes burft,
From cates ambrofial, and the nectar'd bowl,
He would abhorrent turn; and in dead night,
When filence fleeps o'er all, be ftunn'd with noise.
Let no prefuming impious railer tax
CREATIVE WISDOM, as if aught was form'd
In vain, or not for admirable ends.
Shall little haughty ignorance pronounce
His works unwife, of which the fmallest part
Exceeds the narrow vifion of her mind?
As if upon a full proportion'd dome,
On fwelling columns heav'd, the pride of art!
A critic-fly, whofe feeble ray fcarce spreads
An inch around, with blind prefumption bold,
Should dare to tax the ftructure of the whole.
And lives the Man, whofe universal eye
Has fwept at once th' unbounded scheme of things;
Mark'd their dependence fo, and firm accord,
As with unfaultering accent to conclude
That This availeth nought? Has any feen
The mighty chain of beings, leffening down
From INFINITE PERFECTION to the brink
Of dreary Nothing, defolate abyfs!

From which aftonifh'd thought, recoiling, turns?
Till then alone let zealous praise ascend,

And hymns of holy wonder, to that POWER,
Whose wisdom shines as lovely on our minds,
As on our fmiling eyes his fervant-fun.

Thick in yon ftream of light, a thousand ways, Upward, and downward, thwarting, and convolv'd, The quivering nations fport; till, tempeft-wing'd, Fierce Winter sweeps them from the face of day. Even fo luxurious Men, unheeding, pass An idle fummer life in fortune's fhine, A feafon's glitter! Thus they flutter on From toy to toy, from vanity to vice; Till, blown away by death, oblivion comes Behind, and strikes them from the book of life. Now fwarms the village o'er the joyful mead : The ruftic youth, brown with meridian toil, Healthful and ftrong; full as the fummer-rofe Blown by prevailing funs, the ruddy maid, Half naked, fwelling on the fight, and all Her kindled graces burning o'er her cheek. Even ftooping age is here; and infant-hands Trail the long rake, or, with the fragrant load O'ercharg'd, amid the kind oppreffion roll. Wide flies the tedded grain; all in a row Advancing broad, or wheeling round the field, They fpread their breathing harvest to the sun

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That throws refreshful round a rural smell :
Or, as they rake the green-appearing ground,
And drive the dusky wave along the mead,
The ruffet hay-cock rises thick behind,
In order gay. While heard from dale to dale;
Waking the breeze, refounds the blended voice
Of happy labour, love, and focial glee.

Or rushing thence, in one diffufive band,
They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog
Compell'd, to where the mazy-running brook
Forms a deep pool; this bank abrupt and high,
And That fair spreading in a pebbled shore.
Urg'd to the giddy brink, much is the toil,
The clamour much, of men, and boys, and dogs,
Ere the foft fearful people to the flood

Commit their woolly fides. And oft the fwain,
On fome impatient feizing, hurls them in:
Embolden'd then, nor hefitating more,
Faft, faft, they plunge amid the flashing wave,
And panting labour to the farthest shore.
Repeated this, till deep the well-wash'd fleece
Has drunk the flood, and from his lively haunt
The trout is banish'd by the fordid stream;
Heavy, and dripping, to the breezy brow
Slow move the harmless race: where, as they spread

Their fwelling treasures to the funny ray,
Inly disturb'd, and wondering what this wild
Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints
The country fill; and, tofs'd from rock to rock,
Inceffant bleatings run around the hills.
At laft, of fnowy white, the gathered flocks
Are in the wattled pen innumerous prefs'd,
Head above head: and, rang'd in lufty rows
The fhepherds fit, and whet the founding fhears.
The housewife waits to roll her fleecy stores,
With all her gay-dreft maids attending round.
One, chief, in gracious dignity enthron'd,
Shines o'er the reft, the paftoral queen, and rays
Her fmiles, fweet-beaming, on her shepherd-king;
While the glad circle round them yield their fouls
To feftive mirth, and wit that knows no gall.
Meantime, their joyous task goes on apace :
Some mingling ftir the melted tar, and some,
Deep on the new-fhorn vagrant's heaving fide,
To ftamp his master's cypher ready ftand;
Others the unwilling wether drag along;
And, glorying in his might, the sturdy boy
Holds by the twisted horns th' indignant ram.
Behold where bound, and of its robe bereft,
By needy Man, that all-depending lord,

How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies!
What foftness in its melancholy face,

What dumb complaining innocence appears!
Fear not, ye gentle tribes, 'tis not the knife
Of horrid flaughter that is o'er you wav'd;
No, 'tis the tender fwain's well-guided fhears,
Who having now, to pay his annual care,
Borrowed your fleece, to you a cumbrous load,
Will fend you bounding to your hills again.

A fimple scene! yet hence BRITANNIA fees
Her folid grandeur rife: hence fhe commands
Th' exalted stores of every brighter clime,
The treasures of the Sun without his rage:
Hence, fervent all, with culture, toil, and arts,
Wide glows her land: her dreadful thunder hence
Rides o'er the waves fublime, and now, even now,
Impending hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coaft;
Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world.
'Tis raging Noon; and, vertical, the Sun
Darts on the head direct his forceful rays.
O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye
Can fweep, a dazzling deluge reigns; and all
From pole to pole is undistinguish'd blaze.
In vain the fight, dejected to the ground,
Stoops for relief; thence hot-afcending fteams

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