Of deeper green the elm; and deeper fiill,
Lord of the woods, the long-furviving oak.
Some gloffy-leav'd, and fhining in the fun,
The maple, and the beech of oily nuts
Prolific, and the lime at dewy eve
Diffufing odours: nor unnoted pass
The fycamore, capricious in attire,
Now green, now tawny, and, ere autumn yet
Have chang'd the woods, in scarlet honours bright.
O'er thefe, but far beyond (a fpacious map
Of hill and valley interpos'd between),
The Ouse, dividing the well-water'd land,
Now glitters in the fun, and now retires,
As bashful, yet impatient to be feen.
Hence the declivity is fharp and fhort,
And fuch the re-ascent; between them weeps
A little naiad her impov'rish'd urn
All fummer long, which winter fills again.
The folded gates would bar my progress now,
But that the lord of this enclos'd demefne,
Communicative of the good he owns,
* See the foregoing note.
Admits me to a fhare; the guiltless eye
Commits no wrong, nor waftes what it enjoys.
Refreshing change! where now the blazing fun?
By short tranfition we have loft his glare,
And stepp'd at once into a cooler clime.
Ye fallen avenues! once more I mourn
Your fate unmerited, once more rejoice
That yet a remnant of your race furvives.
How airy and how light the graceful arch,
Yet awful as the confecrated roof
Re-echoing pious anthems! while beneath
The chequer'd earth feems restless as a flood
Brush'd by the wind. So fportive is the light
Shot through the boughs, it dances as they dance,
Shadow and funshine intermingling quick,
And dark'ning and enlight'ning, as the leaves
Play wanton, ev'ry moment, ev'ry spot.
And now, with nerves new-brac'd and spirits cheer'd,
We tread the wilderness, whose well-roll'd walks, With curvature of flow and easy sweep
Deception innocent-give ample space
To narrow bounds. The grove receives us next;
Between the upright fhafts of whose tall elms
difcern the thresher at his task.
Thump after thump refounds the conftant flail,
That seems to fwing uncertain, and yet falls
Full on the deftin'd ear. Wide flies the chaff.
The ruftling ftraw fends up a frequent mist
Of atoms, fparkling in the noon-day beam.
Come hither, ye that press your beds of down,
And fleep not fee him fweating o'er his bread
Before he eats it.-"Tis the primal curse,
But foften'd into mercy; made the pledge
Of cheerful days, and nights without a groan.
By ceafelefs action all that is fubfifts.
>Conftant rotation of th' unwearied wheel
That nature rides upon maintains her health,
Her beauty, her fertility. She dreads
An inftant's pause, and lives but while she moves. Its own revolvency upholds the world.
Winds from all quarters agitate the air,
And fit the limpid element for use,
Elfe noxious: oceans, rivers, lakes, and fireams, All feel the fresh'ning impulse, and are cleans'd
By reftlefs undulation: ev'n the oak
Thrives by the rude concuffion of the ftorm:
He seems indeed indignant, and to feel
Th' impreffion of the blaft with proud difdain,
Frowning, as if in his unconscious arm
He held the thunder: but the monarch owes
His firm ftability to what he fcorns-
More fixt below, the more disturb'd above.
The law, by which all creatures else are bound, Binds man the lord of all.
No mean advantage from a kindred cause,
From ftrenuous toil his hours of sweetest ease.
The fedentary stretch their lazy length
When custom bids, but no refreshment find,
For none they need: the languid eye, the cheek
Deferted of its bloom, the flaccid, fhrunk,
And wither'd mufcle, and the vapid foul,
Reproach their owner with that love of reft
To which he forfeits ev'n the reft he loves.
Not fuch th' alert and active. Measure life
By its true worth, the comforts it affords,
And their's alone feems worthy of the name.
Good health, and, its affociate in most,
Good temper; fpirits prompt to undertake,
And not foon spent, though in an arduous task;
The pow'rs of fancy and ftrong thought are their's;
Ev'n age itself feems privileg'd in them,
With clear exemption from its own defects.
A fparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front
The vet'ran fhows, and, gracing a gray beard
With youthful fmiles, defcends toward the grave
Sprightly, and old almoft without decay.
Like a coy maiden, ease, when courted moft, Fartheft retires-an idol, at whofe fhrine
Who oft'neft facrifice are favour'd leaft.
The love of Nature, and the fcenes fhe draws,
Is Nature's dictate. Strange! there should be found,
Who, felf-imprison'd in their proud faloons,
Renounce the odours of the open field
For the unfcented fictions of the loom;
Who, fatisfied with only pencil'd fcenes,
Prefer to the performance of a God
Th' inferior wonders of an artift's hand!
Lovely indeed the mimic works of art;
But Nature's works far lovelier. I admire-
None more admires-the painter's magic skill
Who fhows me that which I fhall never fee,
Conveys a diftant country into mine,
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