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And draws and blows reciprocating air : - -| Others to quench the histing mass prepare : With lifted arms they order ev'ry blow, | And chime their founding hammers in a row ; With labour'd anvils Ætna groans below. Strongly they strike, huge flakes of flames expire, With tongs they turn the steel, and vex it in the fire. | If little things with great we may compare, , ! Such are the bees, and fuch their bufy care : :', Studious of honey, each in his degree, : '' The youthful fwain, the grave experienc'd bee: That in the field ; this in affairs of state, . Employ’d at home, abides within the gate; - * To fortify the combs, to build the wall, * To prop the ruins, left the fabric fall : But late at night, with weary pinions come The lab’ring youth, and heavy laden home. . Plains, meads, and orchards all the day he plies ; The gleans of yellow thyme distend his thighs : He spoils the saffron flow’rs, he fips the blues Of vi'lets, wilding blooms, and willow dews. Their toil is common, common is their fleep; They shake their wings when morn begins to peep 3 Rush thro' the city gates without delay : Nor ends their work, but with declining day : Then having spent the last remains of light, They give their bodies due repose at night; When hollow murmurs of their ev’ning bells, * Dismiss the fleepy fwains, and toll 'em to their cells. When once in beds their weary limbs they steep, No buzzing founds disturb their golden sleep, ’Tis facred filence all. Nor dare they stray, When rain is promis'd, or a stormy day : | But near the city walls their wat'ring take, Nor forage far, but short excursions make. And as when empty barks on billows float, With fandy ballast failors trim the boat; | So bees bear gravel stones, whose poifing weight Steers thro’ the whistling winds their steady flight. But what's more strange, their modest appetites, Averse from Venus fly the nuptial rites.

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They gather children from the leaves and flow’rs.

Thus make they kings to fill the regal feat :
And thus their little citizens create :
And waxen cities build, the palaces of state.
And oft on rocks their tender wings they tear,
And fink beneath the burdens which they bear,
Such rage of honey in their bosom beats :
And fuch a zeal they have for flow'ry sweets.
Thus thro' the race of life they quickly run;
Which in the space of seven short years is done;
Th’ immortal line in fure succession reigns,
The fortune of the family remains ;
And grandfires grandfons the long list contains,
Besides, not Egypt, India, Media more
With fervile awe, theiridol king adore :
While he furvives, in concord and content
The commons live, by no divisions rent ;

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The comparison he has drawn between die labor of the bees and those of the Cyclops is truly poetical; and the description of the battle between the two swarms at

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the beginning of this book is attended with as much noise, hurry and fury, as any engagement in the Æneid: The method of appeafing these warriors by throwing duft in the air is a circumstance beautiful in itself and finely introduced : And the speech of Proteus, and the instructions given at the end of this fable for obtaining a new

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ftock of Bees, with the description of their nature and generation, will be ever the fubjećt of admiration.

By the extraćts and observations we have made, the reader will fee that the rules we have laid down to render this fort of poem delightful, are all to be found in Virgil; or rather, which indeed is the truth, he will perceive that we have drawn our rules from his great example. Virgil has omitted nothing that would contribute to make his precepts pleafing ; and his fables, allegories, descriptions, fimilies, reflećtions, remarks, digressions, CSc. feem all to fpring spontaneously out of his fubject, and are foi contrived that they naturally bring him to it again. Even the episode of Orpheus and Eurydice, tho’ very long, is in the place Virgil has affign'd it, a beauty of the first mag

nitude, and is the more interesting for being pathetic. We are now to speak of thofe poems which give precepts for the recreations and pleasures of a country hife, and of these we have feveral in our own language that are justly admired. As the most confiderable of those diversions, however, are finely treated by Mr. Gay in his Rural Sports, we shall draw fome enne from him , | and first of angling. | |

You must not ev'ry worm promiscuous use, ! Judgment will tell the proper bait to chufe; | The worm that draws a long immod’rate fize The trout abhors, and the rank morfel flies; And if too small, the naked fraud's in fight, And fear forbids, while hunger does invite: Those baits will best reward the fisher’s pains, Whose polish’d tails a fhiníng yellow stains : Cleanse them from filth, to give a tempting glofs, Cherish the fully'd reptile race with mofs ; Amid the verdant bed they twine, they toil, And from their bodies wipe their native foil. But when the fun displays his glorious beams, And shallow rivers flow with filver streams, Then the deceit the scaly breed furvey, Bask in the fun, and look into the day. You now a more delufive art must try, And tempt their hunger with the curious fly.


To frame the little animal, provide *
All the gay hues that wait on female pride,
Let nature guide thee ; fometimes golden wire
The shining bellies of the fly require ;
The peacock’s plumes thy tackle must not fail,
Nor the dear purchafe of the fable's tail.
Each gaudy bird fome flender tribute brings,
And lends the growing infeći proper wings:
Silks of all colours must their aid impart,
And ev'ry fur promote the fisher's art.
So the gay lady, with expensive care,
Borrows the pride of land, of fea, and air;
Furs, pearls, and plumes, the glitt'ring thing displays»
Dazles our eyes, and eafier hearts betrays.
Mark well the various feasons of the year,
How the succeeding infećt race appear;
In this revolving moon one colour reigns,
Which in the next the fickle trout difdains,
Oft have I feen a skilful angler try -
The various colours of the treach'rous fly; .
When he with fruitlefs pain hath skim'd the brook,
And the coy fish rejećts the skipping hook,
He shakes the boughs that on the margin grow,
Which o'er the stream a waving forest throw ;
When if an infećt fall, (his certain guide)
He gently takes him from the whirling tide ;
Examines well his form with curious eyes,
His gaudy vest, his wings, his horns and fize,
Then round his hook the chofen fur he winds,
And on the back a speckled feather binds,
So just the colours fhine through ev'ry part,
That nature feems to live again in art.
Let not thy wary step advance too near,
While all thy hope hangs on a single hair ;
The new-form’d infećt on the water moves,
The speckled trout the curious snare approves ;
Upon the curling surface let it glide,
With natural motion from thy hand supply'd,
Against the stream now gently let it play,
Now in the rapid eddy roll away. -
The fcaly shoals float by, and seiz'd with fear
Behold their fellows tost in thinner air ;

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But foon they leap, and catch the swimming bait,
Plunge on the hook, and share an equal fate.
When a brisk gale against the current blows,
And all the watry plain in wrinkles flows,
Then let the fisherman his art repeat,
Where bubbling eddies favour the deceit.
If an enormous falmon chance to spy
The wanton errors of the floating fly,
He lifts his filver gills above the flood,
And greedily fucks in th' unfaithful food;
Then downward plunges with the fraudful prey,
And bears with joy the little spoil away.
Soon in smart pain he feels the dire mistake,
Lashes the wave and beats the foamy lake :
With fudden rage he now aloft appears,
And in his eye convulsive anguish bears;
And now again, impatient of the wound,
He rolls and wreaths his fhining body round;
Then headlong shoots beneath the dashing tide,
The trembling fins the boiling wave divide.
Now hope exalts the fisher's beating heart,
Now he turns pale, and fears his dubious art; .
He views the tumbling fish with longing eyes,
While the line stretches with th' unwieldy prize ;
Each motion humours with his steady hands,
And one flight hair the mighty bulk commands :
”Till tir’d at last, despoil'd of all his strength,
The game athwart the stream unfolds his length.
He now, with pleasure, views the gasping prize
Gnash his sharp teeth, and roll his blood-shot eyes ;
Then draws him to the shore with artful care,
And lifts his nostrils in the fickning air :
Upon the burden'd stream he floating lies,
Stretching his quivering fins, and gasping dies. *
What he has given us on the other rural diversions is
altogether as natural, and beautiful as the preceding.

Nor less the spaniel skilful to betray,
Rewards the fowler with the feather'd prey.
Soon as the labouring horfe with fwelling veins,
Hath fafely hous'd the farmer's doubtful gains,

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