And keen reflection pain. Deep to the root
Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields
And flippery lawn an arid hue disclose,
Blaft Fancy's bloom, and wither even the Soul.
Echo no more returns the cheerful found
Of sharpening feythe: the mower finking heaps
O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfum'd;
And scarce a chirping grass-hopper is heard
Thro' the dumb mead. Diftressful Nature pants.
The very ftreams look languid from afar;
Or, thro' th' unfhelter'd glade, impatient, feem
To hurl into the covert of the grove.
All-conquering Heat, oh intermit thy wrath!
And on my throbbing temples potent thus
Beam not fo fierce! Inceffant ftill you flow,
And ftill another fervent flood succeeds,
Pour'd on the head profufe. In vain I figh,
And restless turn, and look around for Night;
Night is far off; and hotter hours approach.
Thrice happy he! who on the funless fide
Of a romantic mountain, foreft-crown'd,
Beneath the whole collected fhade reclines:
Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought,
And fresh bedew'd with ever-ípouting streams,
Sits coolly calm; while all the world without,
Unfatisfied, and fick, toffes in noon.
Emblem inftructive of the virtuous Man,
Who keeps his temper'd mind ferene, and pure,
And every paffion aptly harmoniz'd,
Amid a jarring world with vice inflam'd.
Welcome, ye fhades! ye bowery thickets, hail!
Ye lofty pines! ye venerable oaks!
Ye ashes wild, refounding o'er the steep!
Delicious is your shelter to the foul,
As to the hunted hart the fallying spring,
Or ftream full-flowing, that his fwelling fides
Laves, as he floats along the herbag'd brink.
Cool, thro' the nerves, your pleafing comfort glides;
The heart beats glad; the fresh expanded eye
And ear resume their watch; the finews knit ;
And life shoots fwift thro' all the lightened limbs.
Around th' adjoining brook, that purls along
The vocal grove, now fretting o'er a rock,
Now scarcely moving thro' a reedy pool,
Now ftarting to a fudden ftream, and now
Gently diffus'd into a limpid plain;
A various groupe the herds and flocks compofe,
Rural confufion! On the graffy bank
Some ruminating lie; while others ftand
Half in the flood, and often bending fip
The circling furface. In the middle droops
The ftrong laborious ox, of honeft front,
Which incompos'd he shakes; and from his fides
The troublous infects lashes with his tail,
Returning ftill. Amid his fubjects fafe,
Slumbers the monarch' fwain; his careless arm
Thrown round his head, on downy mofs fuftain'd;
Here laid his fcrip, with wholesome viands fill'd;
There, liftening every noise, his watchful dog.
Light fly his flumbers, if perchance a flight
Of angry gad-flies fasten on the herd;
That startling scatters from the shallow brook,
In fearch of lavish ftream. Toffing the foam,
They scorn the keeper's voice, and scour the plain,
Thro' all the bright severity of noon;
While, from their labouring breafts, a hollow moan
Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills.
Oft in this feafon too the horse, provok'd,
While his big finews full of fpirits fwell,
Trembling with vigour, in the heat of blood,
Springs the high fence; and, o'er the field effus'd,
Darts on the gloomy flood, with ftedfast eye,
And heart eftranged to fear: his nervous cheft,
Luxuriant, and erect, the feat of strength!
Bears down th' oppofing ftream: quenchless his thirst;
He takes the river at redoubled draughts;
And with wide noftrils, fnorting, skims the wave.
Still let me pierce into the midnight depth
Of yonder grove, of wildest largest growth:
That, forming high in air a woodland quire,
Nods o'er the mount beneath. At every step,
Solemn, and flow, the fhadows blacker fall,
And all is awful liftening gloom around.
These are the haunts of Meditation, these
The scenes where ancient bards th' inspiring breath,
Ecftatic, felt; and, from this world retir'd,
Convers'd with angels, and immortal forms,
On gracious errands bent; to save the fall
Of virtue ftruggling on the brink of vice;
In waking whispers, and repeated dreams,
To hint pure thought, and warn the favour'd foul
For future trials fated to prepare;
To prompt the poet, who devoted gives
His mufe to better themes; to foothe the pangs Of dying worth, and from the patriot's breast (Backward to mingle in detefted war,
But foremost when engag'd) to turn the death; And numberlefs fuch offices of love
Daily, and nightly, zealous to perform.
Shook fudden from the bofom of the sky,
A thousand shapes or glide athwart the dusk,
Or ftalk majestic on. Deep-rous'd, I feel
A facred terror, a fevere delight,
Creep thro' my mortal frame; and thus, methinks,
A voice, than human more, th' abstracted ear
Of fancy ftrikes.
"Poor kindred.Man! thy fellow-creatures, we "From the fame PARENT-POWER our beings drew, "The fame our Lord, and laws, and great purfuit. "Once fome of us, like thee, thro' ftormy life, "Toil'd, tempeft-beaten, ere we could attain "This holy calm, this harmony of mind, "Where purity and peace immingle charms. "Then fear not us; but with refponfive fong, "Amid thefe dim receffes, undisturb'd
By noify folly and difcordant vice,
"Of Nature fing with us, and Nature's Gon. "Here frequent, at the vifionary hour,
"When musing midnight reigns or filent noon, "Angelic harps are in full concert heard,
"And voices chaunting from the wood-crown'd hill, "The deepening dale, or inmoft fylvan glade;
"A privilege beftow'd by us, alone,
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