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THUS pass the temperate hours: but when the fur
Shakes from his noon-day throne the scattering clouds,
Even shooting liftlefs langour thro' the deeps;
Then feek the bank where flowering elders croud,
Where scatter'd wild the lily of the vale

Its balmy effence breathes, where cowflips hang
The dewy head, where purple violets lurk,
With all the lowly children of the shade:
Or lie reclin'd beneath yon fpreading afh,

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Hung o'er the steep; whence, borne on liquid wing, 450-
The founding culver fhoots; or where the hawk,
High, in the beetling cliff, his airy builds.
There let the claffick page thy fancy lead
Thro' rural fcenes; fuch as the Mantuan fwain
Paints in the matchlefs harmony of fong.
Or catch thy felf the landskip, gliding swift
Athwart imagination's vivid eye:

Or by the vocal woods and waters lull'd,
And loft in lonely mufing, in a dream,
Confus'd, of carelcfs folitude, where mix
Ten thousand wandering images of things,
Soothe every guft of passion into peace;
All but the fwellings of the foften'd heart,
That waken, not disturb the tranquil mind.

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BEHOLD yon breathing profpect bids the Mufe 465 Throw all her beauty forth. But who can paint

Like Nature? Can imagination boast,

Amid its gay creation, hues like hers?
Or can it mix them with that matchless skill,
And lose them in each other, as appears
In every bud that blows? If fancy then
Unequal fails beneath the pleafing task,

Ah what shall language do? Ah where find words
Ting'd with fo many colours; and whose power,
To life approaching, may perfume my lays
With that fine oil, thofe aromatic gales,
That inexhaustive flow continual round?

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YET tho' fuccefsless, will the toil delight. Come then, ye virgins and ye youths, whofe hearts Have felt the raptures of refining love;

480 And thou, AMANDA, come, pride of my fong! Form'd by the graces, loveliness itself!

Come with those downcaft eyes, fedate and sweet,
Thefe looks demure, that deeply pierce the foul;
Where, with the light of thoughtful reafon mix`d, 485
Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart:

Oh come! and while the rofy-footed May
Steals blushing on, together let us tread
The morning-dews, and gather in their prime
Fresh-blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair, 490
And thy lov'd bosom that improves their sweets.

SEE, where the winding vale its lavish ftores, Irriguous, fpreads. See, how the lily drinks

The

The latent rill, scarce oozing thro the grass,
Of growth luxuriant; or the humid bank,
In fair profufion, decks. Long let us walk,
Where the breeze blows from yon extended field
Of bloffom'd beams. Arabia cannot boast

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A fuller gale of joy than, liberal, thence
Breathes thro the fenfe, and takes the ravish'd foul. 500
Nor is the mead unworthy of thy foot,.

Full of fresh verdure, and unnumber'd flowers,
The negligence of Nature, wide, and wild;

Where, undifguis'd by mimic Art, she spreads
Unbounded beauty to the roving eye.

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Here their delicious task the fervent bees,

In fwarming millions, tend. Around, athwart,

Thro' the soft air, the busy nations fly,

Cling to the bud, and, with inferted tube,

Suck its pure effence, its ethereal foul.

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And oft, with bolder wing, they foaring dare

The purple heath, or where the wild-thyme grows, And yellow load them with the luscious fpoil.

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AT length the finish'd garden to the view Its viftas opens, and its alleys green. Snatch'd thro the verdant maze, the hurried eye Distracted wanders; now the bowery walk Of covert close, where scarce a speck of day Falls on the lengthen'd gloom, protracted sweeps; Now meets the bending sky: the river now

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Dimpling

Dimpling along, the breezy-ruffled lake,
The foreft darkening round, the glittering spire,
'Th' ethereal mountain, and the distant main.
But why fo far excurfive? when at hand,
Along these blushing borders, bright with dew, 525
And in yon mingled wilderness of flowers,
Fair-handed spring unbofoms every grace:
Throws out the fnow-drop, and the crocus firft;
The daify, primrose, violet darkly blue,

And polyanthus of unnumber'd dyes;

The yellow wall-flower, ftain'd with iron brown;
And lavish stock that scents the garden round.
From the foft wing of vernal breezes shed,

Anemonies; auriculas, enrich'd

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With fhining meal o'er all their velvet leaves;
And full ranunculas, of glowing red,

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Then comes the tulip-race, where Beauty plays
Her idle freaks: from family diffus'd

To family, as flies the father duft,

The varied colours run; and, while they break
On the charm'd eye, th' exulting florist marks,
With fecret pride, the wonders of his hand.
No gradual bloom is wanting; from the bud,
First-born of fpring, to fummer's musky tribes:
Nor hyacinths, of pureft virgin white,

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Low-bent, and blushing inward; nor jonquils, 545 Of potent fragrance; nor Narciffus fair,

As o'er the fabled fountain hanging ftill;

Nor broad carnations; nor gay-fpotted pinks;

Nor, fhower'd from every bush, the damask-rose.

Infinite numbers, delicacies, fmells,

With hues on hues expreffion cannot paint,

The breath of Nature, and her endless bloom.

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Hail, SOURCE OF BEING! UNIVERSAL SOUL Of Heaven and earth! ESSENTIAL PRESENCE, hail! TO THE EI 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,

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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

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Invite you forth in all your gayeft trim.

Lend me your fong, ye nightingales! oh pour
The mazy-running foul of melody.

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