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If bleak and barren Scotia's hills arise ;
There plague and poifon, luft and rapine grow;;
Here peacsful are ibe valçs, and pure the skies, And freedom fires the foul, and sparkles in the eyes.
VII. Then grieve not, thon to whom the indulgent Muse Vouchiafes a portion of celullial fire ; Nor blame the partial Fates, if they refuse T'h'imperial banquet, and the rich'attire. Know thine own worth and reverence the lyre. Wilt thou debale the heart which God refin'd.; No; let the heaven-taught foul, to heaven aspire
To fancy, freedom, harmony, resign'd;
Ambition's groveling crew for ever left behind.
Canst thou forego the pure etherial soul
In each fine sente so exquisitely keen,
On the dull couch of Luxury to loll,
Stung with disease, and stupified with spleen;
Eain to implore the aid of Flattery's screen,
Even from thyself thy loathsome heart to hide,
(The mansion then no more of joy serene)
Where fear, distrust, malevolence, abide,
And impotent desire, and disappointed pride?
IX. O how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her vot'ry yields ! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all thai echoes to the fong of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bofom fields,
And all the dread magnificence of heaven, O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven?
X. These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health, And love, and gentleness, and joy impart.
But these thou must renounce, if luft of wealth E'er win its way to thy corrupted heart; For, ah! it poisons like a scorpion’s dart ; Prompting the ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme. The ftern resolve, unmov'd by pity's smart,
The troublous day, and long distressful dream.Return, my roving Mufe, resume thy purposed theme.
There liv'd in Gothic days, as legends tell,
A fhepherd-fwain, a man of low degree ;
Whose Gres, perchance, in Faryland might dwell,
Sicilian groves, or vales of Arcady ;
But he, I ween, was of the north countrie : *
A'nation fam'd for fong, and beauty's charms;
Zealous, yet modest; innocent though free ;
Patient of toil; serene amidst alarms,
Inflexible in faith ; invincible in armi.
The shepherd-fwain of whom I mention made,
On: Scotia's mountains fed his little flock;
The fickle, scythe, or plough, he never sway?di
An honest heart was almost all his stock;
His drink the living water from the roek;
The milky dams supplied his board, and lent,
Their kindly fleece to baffle winter's shock;
And he, though oft with dust and sweet besprent, Did guide and guard their wanderings whersoe'er they
* There is hardly an ancient Ballad, or Romance, wherein a Minstrel or Harper appears, but he is characterised, by way of eminence, to have been “ Of the North countrie.” It is probable that under this. appellation were formerly comprehended all the provinces to the North of the Trent.
See Percy's Effay on the English Minftrels.
XIII. From labour health, from health contentment springs Contentment opes
the source of every joy. He envied not, he never thought of kings ; Nor from these appetites fustain's annoy, Which chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy; Nor Fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled ; He mourn'd no recreant friend, nor mistress coy,
For on his vows the blameless Phæbe smild, And her alone he loved, and loved her from a child.
No jealousy their dawn of love oʻercast,
Nor blafted were their wedded days with strife ;
Each season look'd delightful as it past,
To the fond husband, and the faithful wife.
Beyond the lowly vale of shepherd life
They never roam'd ; secure beneath the storm
Which in Ambition's lofty land is rife,
and love are canker'd by the worm Of pride, each bud of joy industrious deform.
The wight whose tale these artless lines unfold,
Was all the offspring of this simple pair.
His birth no oracle or seer foretold :
No prodigy appear’d in earth or air,
Nor aught that might a strange event declare.
You guess cach circumstance of Edwin's birth ;
The parent's transport, and the parent's care ;
The Gossip's prayer for wealth, and wit, and worth And one long summer-day of indolence and mirth.
And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy ;
Deep thought oft feem'd to fix his infant eye.
Dainties he heeded not, nor gaude, nor toy,
Save one short pipe of rudelt minstrelsy.
Silent when glad; affectionate, though fhy;
And now his look was most demurely fad,
And now he laugh'd aloud, yet none knew why.
The neighbours ftar'd and figh’d, yet blelt the lad: Some deem'd him wond'rous wife, and some believ'd him mad.
But why should I his childish feats display?
Concourse and noise, and toil he ever fled ;
Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray
Of squabbling imps, but to the forest sped,
Or, roam'd at large the lonely mountain's head;
Or, where the maze of some bewilder'd ttream
To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led,
There would he wander wild, 'till Phæbus beám,
Shot from the western cliff, released the weary team.
Th'exploit of strength, dexterity, or speed,
To him nor vanity nor joy could bring.
His heart, from cruel sport enstranged, would bleed
To work the woe of any living thing,
By trap, by net, by arrow, or by sing ;
These he detested, those he scorn'd to wield :
He wish'd to be the guardian, not the king,
Tyrant far less, or traitor of the field,
And sure the sylvan reign unbloody joy might yield.
Lo? where the stripling, wrapt in wonder, roves
Beneath the precipice o'erhung with pine ;
And fees, on high, amidst th' encircling groves
From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine :
While waters, woods, and winds in concert join,
And Echo swells the chorus to the skies.
Would Edwin this majoitie scene refign
For aught the huntsmen's puny.craft supplies ?
Ah! no: he better knows great Nature's charms to prize.
And oft he traced the uplands, to survey,
When o'er the sky adranced the kindling dawn,
The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain grey,
And lake, dim-gleaming on the smoky lawn;
Far to the west, the long long, vale withdrawn,
Where twilight loves to linger for a while ;
And now he faintly kens the bounding fawn,
And villager abroad at early toil.-
(smile. But, lo! the sun appears! and heaven, earth, ocean
And oft the craggy cliff he lov'd to climb,
When all in mist the world below was loit.
When dreadful pleasure ! there to stand sublime,
Like thipwreck'd mariner on defart coast,
And view th' enormous waste of vapour, tost
In billows, lengthening to the horizon round,
Now scoop'd in gulfs, with mountains now embofs'd!
And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound,
Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound !
In truth he was a strange and wayward wight,
Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene,
In darkness, and in storm, he found delight:
Nor less, than when an ocean-wave ferebe
The southern sun diffused his dazzling shene.
Even fad vicissitude amufed his soul;
And if a sigh would sometimes intervene,
And down his cheek a tear of pity roll,
A ligh, a tear, so sweet, he wish'd not to controul.
groves, O where is now your bloom!” (The Muse interprets thus his tender thought.)
Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom,
Of late so grateful in the hour of drought! is
Why do the birds, that song and rapture brought • To all your bowers, their mansions now forfake? * Ah! why has fickle chance this ruin wronght;
• For now the storm howls mournful through the brake, ** And, the dead foliage flies in many a shapeless flake.