HAIL, SOURCE OF BEING! UNIVERSAL SOUL Of Heaven and earth! ESSENTIAL PRESENCE, hail! TO THEE I bend the knee; to THEE my thoughts, Continual, climb; who, with a master-hand, Haft the great whole into perfection touch'd. By THEE the various vegetative tribes,
Wrapt in a filmy net, and clad with leaves,
Draw the live ether, and imbibe the dew:
By THEE difpos'd into congenial foils,
Stands each attractive plant, and fucks, and fwells
The juicy tide; a twining mafs of tubes.
At THY command the vernal fun awakes
The torpid fap, detruded to the root
By wintry winds; that now in fluent dance,
And lively fermentation, mounting, spreads
All this innumerous-colour'd scene of things.
As rifing from the vegetable world
My theme afcends, with equal wing afcend,
My panting Mufe; and hark, how loud the woods
Invite you forth in all your gayeft trim.
Lend me your fong, ye nightingales! oh pour
The mazy-running foul of melody
Into my varied verfe! while I deduce,
From the first note the hollow cuckoo fings,
The fymphony of Spring, and touch a theme
Unknown to fame, the Paffion of the groves.
WHEN firft the foul of love is fent abroad,
Warm thro' the vital air, and on the heart
Harmonious feizes, the gay troops begin,
In gallant thought, to plume the painted wing;
And try again the long-forgotten strain,
At first faint-warbled. But no fooner grows
The foft infufion prevalent, and wide,
Than, all alive, at once their joy o'erflows
In music unconfin'd. Up-fprings the lark,
Shrill voic'd, and loud, the messenger of morn;
Ere yet the fhadows fly, he mounted fings
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts 590
Calls up the tuneful nations. Every copfe
Deep-tangled, tree irregular, and bush
Bending with dewy moisture, o'er the heads
Of the coy quirifters that lodge within,
Are prodigal of harmony. The thrush
And wood-lark, o'er the kind-contending throng
Superior heard, run thro' the sweetest length
Of notes; when listening Philomela deigns
To let them joy, and purposes, in thought
Elate, to make her night excel their day.
The black-bird whistles from the thorny brake;
The mellow bullfinch anfwers from the
grove:
Nor are the linnets, o'er the flowering furze
Pour'd out profufely, filent. Join'd to these
Innumerous fongfters, in the freshening fhade
Of new-fprung leaves, their modulations mix
Mellifluous. The jay, the rook, the daw,
And each harsh pipe, discordant heard alone,
Aid the full concert: while the ftock-dove breathes
A melancholy murmur thro' the whole.
'Tis love creates their melody, and all
This waste of mufic is the voice of love;
That even to birds, and beafts, the tender arts.
Of pleafing teaches. Hence the gloffy kind
Try every winning way inventive love
Can dictate, and in courtship to their mates
Pour forth their little fouls. Firft, wide around,
With distant awe, in airy rings they rove,
Endeavouring by a thousand tricks to catch
The cunning, confcious, half-averted glance
Of their regardless charmer. Should the feem
Softening the least approvance to bestow,
Their colours burnish, and by hope infpir'd,
They brisk advance; then, on a fudden ftruck,
Retire diforder'd; then again approach;
In fond rotation fpread the fpotted wing,
And fhiver every feather with defire.
CONNUBIAL leagues agreed, to the deep woods They haste away, all as their fancy leads, Pleasure, or food, or fecret fafety prompts; That NATURE's great command may be obey'd: Nor all the sweet fenfations they perceive Indulg'd in vain. Some to the holly-hedge Nefling repair, and to the thicket fome;
Some to the rude protection of the thorn
Commit their feeble offspring: The cleft tree
Offers its kind concealment to a few,
Their food its infects, and its mofs their nefts.
Others apart far in the graffy dale,
Or roughening waste, their humble texture weave. 640
But most in woodland folitudes delight,
In unfrequented glooms, or fhaggy banks,
Steep, and divided by a babbling brook,
Whofe murmurs soothe them all the live-long day,
When by kind duty fix'd. Among the roots
Of hazel, pendant o'er the plaintive stream,
They frame the first foundation of their domes;
Dry sprigs of trees, in artful fabric laid,
And bound with clay together. Now 'tis nought
But reftlefs hurry thro' the bufy air,
Beat by unnumber'd wings. The swallow sweeps
The flimy pool, to build his hanging house
Intent. And often, from the careless back
Of herds and flocks, a thousand tugging bills
Pluck hair and wool; and oft, when unobferv❜d, 655
Steal from the barn a ftraw: till foft and warm,
Clean, and complete, their habitation grows.
As thus the patient dam affiduous fits,
Not to be tempted from her tender task,
Or by sharp hunger, or by smooth delight,
Tho' the whole loofened Spring around her blows,
Her fympathizing lover takes his ftand
High on th' opponent bank, and ceafelefs fings
The tedious time away; or else fupplies
Her place a moment, while fhe fudden flits
To pick the fcanty meal. Th' appointed time
With pious toil fulfill'd, the callow young,
Warm'd and expanded into perfect life,
On the new parents feize! Away they fly
Affectionate, and undefiring bear
Their brittle bondage break, and come to light,
A helpless family, demanding food
With constant clamour: O what passions then,
What melting fentiments of kindly care,
The most delicious morfel to their young;
Which equally diftributed, again
The fearch begins. Even fo a gentle pair,
By fortune funk, but form'd of generous mold,
And charm'd with cares beyond the vulgar breast,
In fome lone cott amid the distant woods,
Suftain'd alone by providential HEAVEN,
Oft, as they weeping eye their infant train,
Check their own appetites, and give them all.
Nor toil alone they fcorn: exalting love,
By the great FATHER OF THE SPRING infpir'd,
Gives inftant courage to the fearful race,
And to the fimple art. With stealthy wing,
Should fome rude foot their woody haunts moleft,
Amid a neighbouring bush they filent drop,
And whirring thence, as if alarm'd, deceive
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