Beholds, of all from her high powers required, Much done, and much design'd, and more desired,Harmonious thoughts, a soul by truth refined, Entire affection for all human kind. Sweet rill, farewell! To-morrow's noon again Shall hide me, wooing long thy wildwood strain; But now the sun has gain'd his western road, And eve's mild hour invites my steps abroad. While, near the midway cliff, the silver'd kite In many a whistling circle wheels her flight; Slant watery lights, from parting clouds, apace Travel along the precipice's base; Cheering its naked waste of scatter'd stone, By lichens grey, and scanty moss, o'ergrown; Where scarce the foxglove peeps, or thistle's beard: And desert stone-chat, all day long, is heard. How pleasant, as the sun declines, to view The spacious landscape change in form and hue! Here, vanish, as in mist, before a flood Of bright obscurity, hill, lawn, and wood; There, objects, by the searching beams betray'd, The skiffs, at anchor where with umbrage wide Mounts from the road, and spreads its moving shroud; Into a gradual calm the zephyrs sink, A blue rim borders all the lake's still brink: And, brightly blue, the burnish'd mirror glows, Save where, along the shady western marge, Coasts, with industrious oar, the charcoal barge; The sails are dropp'd, the poplar's foliage sleeps, And insects clothe, like dust, the glassy deeps. Their pannier'd train a groupe of potters goad, Winding from side to side up the steep road; The peasant, from yon cliff of fearful edge, Shot, down the headlong path darts with his sledge; Bright beams the lonely mountain horse illume, Feeding'midpurple heath, “ * green rings," and broom; While the sharp slope the slacken'd team confounds, + Downward the pond'rous timber-wain resounds ; In foamy breaks the rill, with merry song, Dash'd o'er the rough rock, lightly leaps along; From lonesome chapel at the mountain's feet, Three humble bells their rustic chime repeat; Sounds from the water-side the hammer'd boat; And blasted quarry thunders, heard remote ! * "Vivid rings of green." GREENWOOD's Poem on Shooting. + ، Down the rough slope the pond'rous waggon rings." BEATTIE. Even here, amid the sweep of endless woods, Blue pomp of lakes, high cliffs, and falling floods, Not undelightful are the simplest charms, Found by the verdant door of mountain farms. *Sweetly ferocious, round his native walks, Whose state, like pine-trees, waving to and fro, Bright'ning the cliffs between, where sombrous pine And yew-trees o'er the silver rocks recline; *Dolcemente feroce." TASSO. In this description of the cock, I remembered a spirited one of the same animal in the l'Agriculture ou Les Georgiques Françoises, of M. Rossuet. I love to mark the quarry's moving trains, Dwarfpannier'd steeds, and men, and numerous wains: How busy the enormous hive within, While Echo dallies with the various din! Some (hardly heard their chisels' clinking sound) Hung o'er a cloud, above the steep that rears An edge all flame, the broad'ning sun appears; A long blue bar its ægis orb divides, And breaks the spreading of its golden tides; That flings his shadow on the pictured deep. 'Cross the calm lake's blue shades the cliffs aspire, |