THE TASK.

BOOK V.

ARGUMENT OF THE FIFTH BOOK.

Afrofly morning.-The foddering of cattle.-The woodman and his dog.-The poultry.-Whimfical effects of froft at a waterfall.-The Empress of Ruffia's palace of ice.-Amusements of monarchs.— War, one of them.-Wars, whence.—And whence monarchy.-The evils of it.-English and French loyalty contrafted.-The Baftile, and a prifoner there.-Liberty the chief recommendation of this country.-Modern patriotism questionable, and why.-The perishable nature of the best human inftitutions.-Spiritual liberty not perishable.—The flavish state of man by nature.-Deliver him, Deift, if you can.-Grace muft do it.-The respective merits of patriots and martyrs flated.-Their dif ferent treatment.-Happy freedom of the man whom grace makes free.-His relifh of the works of God. -Address to the Creator.

THE TASK.

BOOK V.

THE WINTER MORNING WALK.

"TIS

Is morning; and the fun, with ruddy orb Afcending, fires the horizon; while the clouds, That crowd away before the driving wind, More ardent as the difk emerges more, Refemble most some city in a blaze,

Seen through the leafless wood. His flanting ray
Slides ineffectual down the fnowy vale,

And, tinging all with his own rofy hue,
From every herb and every spiry blade
Stretches a length of fhadow o'er the field.
Mine, spindling into longitude immense,
In spite of gravity, and fage remark
That I myself am but a fleeting fhade,

Provokes me to a smile. With eye afkance

I view the muscular proportioned limb
Transformed to a lean fhank. The fhapeless pair,
As they defigned to mock me, at my fide
Take step for step; and, as I near approach
The cottage, walk along the plastered wall,
Prepofterous fight! the legs without the man.
The verdure of the plain lies buried deep
Beneath the dazzling deluge; and the bents,
And coarfer grass, upspearing o'er the rest,
Of late unfightly and unseen, now shine
Confpicuous, and in bright apparel clad,
And fledged with icy feathers, nod superb.
The cattle mourn in corners where the fence
Screens them, and feem half petrified to fleep
In unrecumbent fadness. There they wait
Their wonted fodder; not like hungering man,
Fretful if unfupplied; but filent, meek,
And patient of the flow-paced swain's delay.
He from the ftack carves out the accustomed load,
Deep-plunging, and again deep plunging oft,
His broad keen knife into the folid mass :

Smooth as a wall the upright remnant stands,

With fuch undeviating and even force