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Sits on th' borizon round a settled gloom.
Not fuch as wintry-forms en mortals thed,
Oppreffing life; but lovely, gentle, kind,
And full of every hope and every joy,
The wish of nature. Gradual, finks the breeze,,
Into a perfect calm; that not a breath
Is heard to quiver thro' the clofing woods,
Or ruftling turn the many twinkling leaves
Of afpin tall. Th' uncurling foods, diffus'd
In glaffy breadth, feem thro' delufive lapfe
Forgetful of their courfe. 'Tis filence all,
And pleafing expectation. Herds and flocks
Drop the dry fprig, and mute-imploring eye
The falling verdure. Huth'd in short fufpence,
The plumy people streak their wings with oil, 165
To throw the lucid moisture trickling off;
And wait th' approaching fign to ftrike, at once,
Into the general choir. Even mountains, vales,
And forefts feem, impatient, to demand
The promis'd sweetnefs. Man fuperior walks 170
Amid the glad creation, mufing praife,
And looking lively gratitude. At last,
The clouds confign their treasures to the helds;
And, foftly thaking on the dimpled pool
Prelufive drops, let all their moisture flow,
In large effufion, o'er the freshen'd world.
The ftealing fhower is fcarce to patter heard,
By fuch as wander thro' the foreft-walks,
Beneath th' umbrageous, multitude of leaves.
But who can hold the fhade, while heaven descends
In univerfal bounty, fhedding herbs,

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And fruits, and flowers, on Nature's ample lap?
Swift fancy fir'd anticipates their growth;
And, while the milky nutriment diftills,

Beholds the kindling country colour round.
Thus all day long the full-diftended clouds

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Indulge their genial ftores, and well-fhower'd earth

Is deep enrich'd with vegetable life;

Till, in the western fky, the downward fun

Looks out, effulgent, from amid the flush
Of broken clouds, gay-fhifting to his beam.
The rapid radiance instantaneous Arkes

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Th'illumin'd mountain, thro' the foreft ftreams,
Shakes on the floods, and in a yellow mist,
Far fmoaking o'er the interminable plain,
In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems.
Moift, bright, and green, the landskip laughs around.
Full fwell the woods; their every mufic wakes,
Mix'd in wild concert with the warbling brooks
Increas'd, the d.ftant, bleatings of the hills,
The hollow lows refponfive from the vales,
Whence blending all the sweetned zephyr fprings,
Meantime refracted from yon eaftern cloud,
Beftriding earth, the grand ethereal bow
Shoots up immense; and every hue unfolds,
In fair proportion running from the red,
To where the violet fades into the sky.
Here, awful Newton, the diffolving clouds
Form, fronting on the fun, thy fhowery prifm;
And to the fage-inftructed eye unfold
The various twine of light, by thee difclos'd
From the white mingling maze. Not fo the fwain;
He wondering views the bright enchantment bend,
Delightful, o'er the radiant fields, and runs
To catch the falling glory; but amaz'd
Beholds th' amufive arch before him fly,
Then vanith quite away. Still night fucceeds,
A foften'd shade, and faturated earth

Awaits the morning beam, to give to light,

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Rais'd toro ten thousand different plaftic tubes, 220 The balmy treafures of the former day.

Then fpring the living herbs, profufely wild,

O'er all the deep green earth, beyond the power

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Of botanist to number up their tribes:

Whether he steals along the lonely dale,

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In filent fearch; or thro the foreft, rank

With what the dull incurious weeds account,

Burfts his blind way; or climbs the mountain-rock,

Fir'd by the nodding verdure of its brow.

With fuch a liberal hand has Nature flung

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Their feeds abroad, blown them about in winds,
Innumerous mix'd them with the nurfing mold,
The moistening current, and prolific rain.

But who their virtues can declare ! Wao pierce,

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With vision pure, into thefe fecret ffores 235
Of health, and life, and joy? The food of man,
While yet he liv'd in maccence, and told
A length of golden years; unrefh'd in blood,
A stranger to the favage arts of life,
Death, rapine, carnage, furfeit, and difeafe ;
The lord, and not the tyrant of the world.
The first fresh dawn then wak'd the gladdened
Of uncerrupted man, nor blufh'd to fee
The fluggard fleep beneath its facred beam :
For their light flumbers gently fum'd away;
And up they rofe as vigorous as the fun,
Or to the culture of the willing glebe,
Or to the chearful tendence of the flock.

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Meantime the fong went round; and dance and fport,
Wildom and friendly talk, fucceffive ftole
Their hours away. While in the rofy vale

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Love breath'd his infant fighs, from anguish free,

And full replete with blifs; fave the fweet pa n,
That, inly thrilling, but exalts it more.

Nor yet injurious act, nor furiy deed,

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Was known among these happ✅ fons of heav'n;
Fr reafon and benevolence were law.
Harmonious Nature too look'd fmiling on.
Clear fhone the fkies, cool'd with eternal gales,
And balm fpirit all. The youthful fun
Shot his beft rays, and ft 11 the gracious clouds
Drop'd fatuef's down; as o'er the fwelling mead,
The herds and flocks, commixing, play'd fecure.
This when, emergent from the gloomy wood,
The glaring lion faw, his horrid heart
Was meeken'd, and he join'd his fullen joy.
For mufic held the whole in perfect peace:
Soft figh'd the flute; the tender voice was heard,
Wa bling the varied heart; the woodlands round
Apply'd their quire; and winds and waters flow'd
In confonance. Such were thofe prime of days. 271
But now those white unblemish'd minutes, whence
The fabling poets took their golden age,
Are found no more amid thefe ron times,
Thefe dregs of life! Now the difter.per'd mind 275
Has lof that concord of harmonious powers,

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Which forms the foul of happiness; and all

Is off the poife within the paflions all

Have burst their bounds: and rèafon half extin&,

Or impotent, or elfe improving, fees

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The foul diforder. Senfelefs and deform'd,

Convulfive anger ftorms at large; or pale,
And filent, fettles into fell revenge.
Bafe envy withers at another's joy,

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And hates that excellence it cannot reach.
Defponding fear, of feeble fancies full.
Week and unmanly, loofens every power.
Even love itself is bitterness of foul,
A penfive anguifh pining at the heart;
Or, funk to fordid intereit, feels no more
That noble with, that never clay'd defire,
Which, felfth joy difdaining, feeks alone
To blefs the dearer object of its flame.
Hope fickens with extravagance; and grief,
Of life impatient, into madness fwells
Or in dead filence wastes the weeping hours.
Thefe, and a thousand mix'd emotions more,
From ever-changing views of good and ill,
Form'd infinitely various, vex the mind
With endless form. Whence, deeply rankling, grows
The partial thought, a liftleis unconcera,

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Cold, and averting from our neighbour's good;

Then dark difguft, and hatred, winding wiles,
Coward deceit, and ruffian violence;

At last, extinct each focial feel ng fell
And joyous inhumanity pervades

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And petrifies the heart. Nature disturb'd

Is deem'd, vindictive, to have chang'd her courfe.
Hence, in old duky time, a deluge came:
When the deep-cleft difparting orb, that arch'd 310
The central waters round, impetuous rush'3,
With univerfal burft, into the gulph,

And o'er the high pil'd hills of fractur'd earth
Wide dath'd the waves, in undulation vaft ;
Tit, from the center to the ftreaming clouds,
A thoreless ocean tumbled round the globe.

The feafons fince, have, with feverer fway,
Oppreis'd a broken world: The Winter keen

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Shook forth his wafte of fnows; and Summer shot
His peftilential heats. Great Spring, before, 320
Green'd all the year; and fruits and bloffoms blufh'd,
In focial sweetness, on the self-fame bough.
Pure was the temperate air; an even calm
Perpetual reign'd, fave what the zephyrs bland
Breath'd o'er the blue expanfe: for then nor ftorms
Were taught to blow, nor hurricanes to rage; 326
Sound flept the waters; no fulphureous glooms
Swell'a in the fky, and fent the lightning forth;
While fickly damps, and cold autumnal fogs,
Hung not, relaxing, on the fprings of life.

But now, of turbid elements the fport,
From clear to cloudy toft, from hot to cold,

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And dry to moift, with inward-eating change,

Our drooping days are dwindled down to nought,
Their period finish'd ere 'tis well begun.

And yet the wholesome herb neglected dies;

Tho' with the pure exhilarating foul

Of nutriment and health, and vital powers,
Beyond the fearch of art, 'tis copious bleft.
For, with hot ravine fir'd, enfanguin'd man
Is now become the lion of the plain,

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And worse. The wolf, who from the nightly fold
Fierce-drags the blearing prey, ne'er drunk her milk,
Nor wore her warming fleece: nor has the fteer,
At whofe ftrong cheft the deadly tyger hangs,
E'er plow'd for him. They too are temper'd high,
With hunger flung and wild neceffity,
Nor lodges pity in their fhaggy breaft.

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But Man, whom Nature form'd of milder clay,
With every kind emot on in his heart,
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And taught alone to weep; while from her lap
She pours ten thousand delicacies, herbs,
And fruits, as numerous as the drops of rain
Or beams that gave them birth: fhall he, fair form!
Who wears Tweet smiles, and looks erect on Heaven,
E'er floop to mingle with the prowling herd 356
And dip his tongue in gore? The beat of prey,
Blood fain'd deferves to bleed: but you, ye flocks,
What have you done; ye peaceful people, what,
To merit death? you, who have given us milk 360

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