Rich in Content, in Nature's bounty rich,
In herbs and fruits; whatever greens
When heaven descends in show'rs or bends the
When summer reddens, and when automn beams;
Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies
Conceal'd, and fattens with the richest sap :
These are not wanting: nor the milky drove,
Luxuriant, spread o'er all the lowing vale:
Nor bleating mountains; nor the chide of streams,
And hum of bees, inviting sleep sincere
Into the guiltless breast, beneath the shade,
Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay ;
Nor aught besides of prospect, grove, or song,
Dim grottoes, gleaming lakes, and fountain clear.
Here too dwells simple Truth; plain Innocence;
Unsullied Beauty; sound unbroken Youth,
Patient of labour, with a little pleas'd;
Health ever blooming; unambitious Toil;
Calm Contemplation, and poetic Ease.
The rage of nations, and the crush of states Move not the man, who, from the world escap'd, In still retreats, and flow'ry solitudes,
To Nature's voice attends, from month to month, And day to day, thro' the revolving year; Admiring, sees her in her every shape;
Feels all her sweet emotions at his heart;
Takes what she lib'ral gives, nor thinks of more. He, when young spring protrudes the bursting gems,
Marks the first bud, and sucks the healthful gale
Into his freshen'd soul; her genial hours
He full enjoys; and not a beauty blows,
And not an opening blossom, breathes in vain.
In Summer he, beneath the living shade
Such as o'er frigid Tempe wont to wave,
Or Hemus cool, reads what the Muse, of these
Perhaps, has in immortal numbers sung;
Or what she dictates, writes: and oft an eye
Shot round, rejoices in the vigorous year.
When Automa's yellow lustre gilds the world
And tempts the sickled swain into the field,
Seiz'd by the general joy his heart distends
With gentle throes; and thro' the tepid gleams
Deep musing, then he best exerts his song.
Even Winter wild to him is full of bliss:
The mighty tempest, and the hoary waste,
Abrupt, and deep, stretch'd o'er the buried earth
Awake to solemn thought. At night the skies,
Disclos'd and kindled by refining frost,
Pour ev'ry lustre on th' exalted eye.
A friend, a book, the stealing hours secure,
And mark them down for wisdom. With swift
O'er land and sea the imagination roams;
Or Truth divinely breaking on his mind,
Elates his being, and unfolds his powers;
Or in his breast heroic virtue burns.
The touch of kindred too and love he feels;
The modest eye, whose beams on his alone
Ecstatic shine: the little, strong embrace
Of prattling children, twisted round his neck,
And emulous to please him, calling forth
The fond parental soul. Nor purpose gay,
Amusement, dance, or song, he sternly scorns:
For happiness and true philosophy
Are of the social, still, and smiling kind.
This is the life which those who fret in guilt,
And guilty cities, never knew: the life 9
Led by primeval ages, uncorrupt,
When Angels dwelt, and God himself, with man!
From heav'n my strains begin ; from heav'n
The flame of Genius to the human breast,
And love and beauty, and poetic joy
And inspiration. Ere the radiant sun
Sprang from the east, or'mid the vault of night
The moon suspended her serener lamp;
Ere mountains, woods or streams adorn'd the globe
Or Wisdom taught the sons of men her lore;
Then liv'd the Almigty One: then deep retir'd
In his unfathom'd essence, view'd the forms,
The forms eternal of created things;
The radiant sun, the moon's nocturnal lamp
The mountains, woods, and streams, the rolling
And Wisdom's mien celestial. From the first
Of days, on them his love divine he fix'd,
His admiration till in time complete,
What he admir'd and lov'd, his vital smile
Unfolded into being. Hence the breath
Of life informing each organic frame,
Hence the green earth, and wild resounding waves;
Hence light and shade alternate; warmth and cold;.
And clear autumnal skies and vernal show'rs,
And all the fair variety of things..
But not alike to every mortal eye
Is this great scene unveil'd. For since the claims
Of social life, to diff'rent labours urge
The active powr's of man ; with wise intent
The hand of Nature on peculiar minds
Imprints a diff'rent biais, and to each
Decrees its province in the common toil.
To some she taught the fabric of the sphere,
The changeful moon, the circuit of the stars,
The golden zones of heav'n to some she
To weigh the moment of eternal things,
Of Time, and Space, and Fate's unbroken chain,
And Will's quick impulse: others by the hand
She led o'er vales and mountains, to explore
What healing virtue swells the tender veins
Of herbs and flow'rs; or what the beams of morn
Draw forth, distilling from the clifted rind
In balmy tears. But some to higher hopes
Were destin'd; some within a finer mould.
She wrought, and temper'd with a purer flame.
To these the Sire Omnipotent unfoids
The world's harmonious volume, there to read
The transcript of himself. On every part
They trace the bright impressions of his hand:
In earth, or air, the meadow's purple stores.
The Moon's mild radiance, or the Virgin's form
Blooming with rosy smiles, they see pourtray'd
That uncreated beauty, which delights.
The mind supreme. They also feel her charms,
Enamour'd they partake th' eternal joy.
SAY, why was man so eminently rais'd
Amid the vast creation! why ordain'd
Thro' life and death to dart his piercing eye,
With thoughts beyond the limits of his frame
But that th' Omnipotent might send him forth
In sight of mortal and immortal pow'rs,
As on a boundless theatre, to run
The great career of justice; to exalt
His gen'rous aim to all diviner deeds;
To chase each partial purpose from his breast;
And thro' the mists of passion and of sense,
And thro' the tossing tide of chance and pain,
To hold his course unfault'ring, while the voice
Of Truth and Virtne, up the steep ascent
Of Nature, calls him to his high reward,
Th' applauding smile of Heav'n : Else wherefore
In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope,
That breathes from day to day sublimer things
And mocks possession? wherefore darts the mind,
With such resistless ardour to embrace
Majestic forms; impatient to be free
Spurning the gross controul of wilful Might;
Proud of the strong contention of her toils;
Proud to be daring? Who but rather turns
Book vij.
To Ileav'ns broad fire his unconstrained view,
Than to the glimmering of a waxen flame?
Who that, from Alpine heights, his lab'ring eye
Shoots round the wild horizon, to survey
Nilus or Ganges rolling his bright wave
Thro' mountains, plains, thro' empires black with
shade
And continents of sand! will turn his gaze
To mark the windings of a scanty rill
That murmurs at his feet? The high-born soul
Disdains to rest her heav'n-aspiring wing
Beneath its native quarry. Tir'd of earth
And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft
Thro' fields of air; pursues the flying storm;
Rides on the volley'd lightning thro' the heavens ;
Or yok'd with whirlwinds and the northern blast,
Sweeps the long tract of day. Then high she soars
The blue profound, and hovering round the sun
Beholds him pouring the redundant stream
Of light; beholds his unrelenting sway
Bend the reluctant planets to absolve
The fated rounds of Time. Thence far effus'd
She darts her swiftness up the long career
Of devious comets; thro' its burning signs
Exulting measures the perennial wheel
Of Nature, and looks back on all the stars,
Whose blended light, as with a milky zone,
Invests the Orient. Now amaz'd she views
Th' empyreal waste, where happy spirits hold,
Beyond this concave heav'n, their calm abode;
And fields of radiance, whose unfading light
Has travell'd the profound six thousand years,
Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things.
Ev'n on the barriers of the world untir'd
She meditates th' eternal depth below;
Till, half-recoiling down the headlong steep
She plunges ; soon o'erwhelm'd and swallow'd up
In that immense of being. There her hopes
Rest at the fated goal. For from the birth
Of mortal man, the sovereign maker said
That not in humble nor in brief delight,
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