And lull the spirit while they fill the mind;
Unnumber'd branches waving in the blast,
And all their leaves fast flutt'ring, all at once.
Nor less composure waits upon the roar
Of distant floods, or on the softer voice
Of neighb'ring fountain, or of rills that slip
Through the cleft rock, and, chiming as they fall
Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length
In matted grass, that with a livelier green
Betrays the secret of their silent course.
Nature inanimate employs sweet sounds,

But animated nature sweeter still,

To sooth and satisfy the human ear.

Ten thousand warblers cheer the day, and one

The live-long night: nor these alone, whose notes Nice finger'd art must emulate in vain,

But cawing rooks, and kites that swim sublime

In still repeated circles, screaming loud,

The jay, the pie, and ev'n the boding owl

That hails the rising moon, have charms for me.

Sounds inharmonious in themselves and harsh, Yet heard in scenes where peace for ever reigns, And only there, please highly for their sake.

Peace to the artist, whose ingenious thought Devis'd the weather-house, that useful toy! Fearless of humid air and gathering rains, Forth steps the man-an emblem of myself! More delicate, his tim'rous mate retires.

When Winter soaks the fields, and female feet, Too weak to struggle with tenacious clay,

Or ford the rivulets, are best at home,

The task of new discov'ries falls on me.

At such a season, and with such a charge,
Once went I forth; and found, till then unknown,
A cottage, whither oft we since repair:

'Tis perch'd upon the green-hill top, but close
Environ'd with a ring of branching elms
That overhang the thatch, itself unseen

Peeps at the vale below; so thick beset

1

With foliage of such dark redundant growth,

I call'd the low-roof'd lodge the peasant's nest. And, hidden as it is, and far remote

From such unpleasing sounds as haunt the ear
In village or in town, the bay of curs

Incessant, clinking hammers, grinding wheels,
And infants clam'rous whether pleas'd or pain'd,
Oft have I wish'd the peaceful covert mine.
Here, I have said, at least I should possess
The poet's treasure, silence, and indulge
The dreams of fancy, tranquil and secure.
Vain thought! the dweller in that still retreat
Dearly obtains the refuge it affords.

Its elevated scite forbids the wretch

To drink sweet waters of the crystal well;
He dips his bowl into the weedy ditch,

And, heavy-laden, brings his bev'rage home,
Far-fetch'd and little worth; nor seldom waits,
Dependant on the baker's punctual call,

To hear his creaking panniers at the door,

Angry and sad, and his last crust consum'd.
So farewell envy of the peasant's nest!
If solitude make scant the means of life,
Society for me!-thou seeming sweet,
Be still a pleasing object in my view;
My visit still, but never mine abode.

Not distant far, a length of colonnade Invites us. Monument of ancient taste, Now scorn'd, but worthy of a better fate. Our fathers knew the value of a screen From sultry suns; and, in their shaded walks And long protracted bow'rs, enjoy'd at noon The gloom and coolness of declining day. We bear our shades about us; self-depriv'd Of other screen, the thin umbrella spread, And range an Indian waste without a tree. Thanks to Benevolus*-he spares me yet

* John Courtney Throckmorton, Esq. of Weston Underwood.

These chesnuts rang'd in corresponding lines; And, though himself so polish'd, still reprieves The obsolete prolixity of shade.

Descending now (but cautious, lest too fast)
A sudden steep, upon a rustic bridge
We pass a gulph, in which the willows dip
Their pendent boughs, stooping as if to drink.
Hence, ancle-deep in moss and flow'ry thyme,
We mount again, and feel at ev'ry step

Our foot half sunk in hillocks green and soft,
Rais'd by the mole, the miner of the soil.
He, not unlike the great ones of mankind,
Disfigures earth; and, plotting in the dark,
Toils much to earn a monumental pile,
That may record the mischiefs he has done.

The summit gain'd, behold the proud alcove That crowns it! yet not all its pride secures The grand retreat from injuries impress'd