HENCE, in old dusky time, a deluge came: When the deep-cleft disparting orb, that

arch'd

310 The central waters round, impetous rush'd, With universal burst, into the gulph, And o'er the high-pil'd hills of fractur'd earth Wide-dash'd the waves, in undulation vast'; Till, from the center to the streaming

clouds,

315 A shoreless ocean tumbled round the globe.

THE seasons since have, with severer sway, Oppress'd a broken world: the Winter keen Shook forth his waste of snows; and Summer shot

His pestilential heats.

Great Spring, be

fore,

320

Green'd all the year; and fruits and blossoms blush'd,

In social sweetness: on the self-same bough. Pure was the temperate air; an even calm Perpetual reign'd, save what the zephyrs bland Breath'd o'er the blue expanse for then nor

storms

325 Were taught to blow, nor hurricanes to rage; Sound slept the waters; no sulphureous glooms Swell'd in the sky, and sent the lightning forth; While sickly damps, and cold autumnal fogs, Hung not, relaxing, on the springs of life. 330 R

But now, of turbid elements the spart,
From clear to cloudy tost, from hot to cold,
And dry to moist, with inward-eating change,
Our drooping days are dwindled down to nought,
Their period finish'd ere 'tis well begun. 335

AND yet the wholesome herb neglected dies; Tho' with the pure exhilarating soul Of nutriment and health, and vital powers, Beyond the search of art; 'tis copious blest For, with hot ravine fir'd, ensanguin'd man 340 Is now become the lion of the plain,

With hunger stung and wild necessity,

Nor lodges pity in their shaggy breast.
But Man, whom Nature form'd of milder

clay,

With every kind emotion in his heart. 350 And taught alone to weep; while from her

She pours ten thousand delicacies, herbs, And fruits, as numerous as the drops of rain Or beams that gaye them birth: shall he, fair form!

Who wears sweet smiles, and looks erect on heaven,

355

E'er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd, And dip his tongue in gore? The beast of

prey,

Blood-stain'd, deserves to bleed: but you, ye

flocks,

What have you done; ye peaceful people,

what,

To merit death? you, who have given us

milk

ვნი Jn luscious streams, and lent us your own

A

coat

Against the winter's cold? and the plain ox,
That harmless, honest, guileless animal,
In what has he offended? He, whose toil,
Patient and ever ready, clothes the land 365
With all the pomp of harvest; shall he bleed,
And struggling groat beneath the cruel hands
Even of the clown he feeds; And that perhape,
To swell the riot of th' autumnal feast,
Won by his labour? Thus the feeling heart 370
Would tenderly suggest: but-'tis enough,
In this late age, adventurous, to have touch'd
Ligne on the numbers of the Samian sage,

High HEAVEN forbids the bold presumptuous strain,

Whose wisest will has fix'd us in a state 375 That must not yet to pure perfection rise, Besides, who knows, how rais'd to higher

life,

From stage to stage, the vital scale ascends?

Descends the billowy foam: now is the time, While yet the dark-brown water aids the

To tempt the trout.

guile,

The well dissembled

fly,

The rod fine-tapering with elastic spring, 385 Snatch'd from the hoary steed the floating line,

And all thy slender watry stores prepare.
But let not on thy hook the tortur'd worm,
Convulsive, twist in agonizing folds;
Which, by repacious hunger swallow'd deep,
Gives, as you tear it from the bleeding breast
Of the weak helpless uncomplaining wretch, 390
Harsh pain and horror to the tender hand.

WHEN with his lively ray the potent sun Has pierc'd the streams, and rous'd the finny

race,

Then, issuing chearful, to thy sport repair; Chief should the western breezes curling

play,

395 And light o'er ether bear the shadowy clouds. High to their fount, this day, amid the hills, And woodlands warbling round, trace up the ⚫ brooks;

The next, pursue their rocky-channel'd maze,
Down to the river, in whose ample wave 400
Their little naiads love to sport at large.
Just in the dubious point, where with the
pool

405

Around the stone, or from the hollow'd bank
Reverted plays in undulating flow,
There throw, nice-judging, the delusive fly;
Änd as you lead it round in artful curve,
With eye attentive mark the springing game.
Strait as above the surface of the flood
They wanton rise, or urg'd by hunger leap, 410
Then fix, with gentle twitch, the barbed hook:
Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank,
And to the shelving shore slow-dragging some,
With various hand proportion'd to their force
If yet too young, and easily deceiv'd,

415