And elegance of life. Nor happiness
Domeftic, mix'd of tenderness and care,
Nor moral excellence, nor focial blifs,
Nor guardian law were his; nor various skill
To turn the furrow, or to guide the tool
Mechanic; nor the heaven-conducted prow
Of navigation bold, that fearless braves
The burning line, nor dares the wint'ry pole;
Mothhr fevere of infinite delights!
Nothing, fave rapine, indolence, and guile,
And woes on woes, a ftill-revolving train!
Whofe horrid circle had made human life
That non-existence worfe: but, taught by thee,
Ours are the plans of policy and peace;
To live like brothers, and conjunctive all
Embellish life. While thus laborious crowds
Ply the tough oar, philofophy directs
The ruling helm; or like the liberal breath
Of potent heaven, invisible, the fail
Swells out, and bears th' inferior world along.
Nor to this evanefcent fpeck of earth
Poorly confin'd, the radiant tracts on high

Are her exalted range; intent to gaze
Creation through; and, from that full complex
Of never-ending wonders, to conceive
Of the Sole Being right, who spoke the word,
And Nature mov'd complete. With inward view.
Thence on th' ideal kingdom swift she turns
Her eye; and inftant, at her powerful glance,
Th' obedient phantoms vanish or appear;
Compound, dívide, and into order fhift,
Each to his rank, from plain perception up
To the fair forms of fancy's fleeting train:
To reason then, deducing truth from truth;
And notion quite abstract; where first begins
The world of spirits, action all, and life
Unfetter'd, and unmixt. But here the cloud,
So wills Eternal Providence, fits deep.
Enough for us to know that this dark state,
In wayward paflions loft, and vain pursuits,
This infancy of being, cannot prove
The final iffue of the works of God,
By boundless love and perfect wisdom form'd,
And ever rifing with the rifing mind.

CROWN'D with the fickle and the wheaten fheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on: the Doric reed once more,
Well pleas'd, I tune. Whate'er the Wintery froft
Nitrous prepar'd; the various-bloffom'd spring
Put in white promife forth: and Summer funs
Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view,
Full, perfect all, and fwell my glorious theme.

Onflow! the mufe, ambitious of thy name,
To grace, infpire and dignify her fong,
Would from the public voice thy gentle ear
A while engage. Thy noble care fhe knows,
The patriot virtues that diftend thy thought,
Spread on thy front, and in thy bofom glow;
While liftening fenates hang upon thy tongue,
Devolving through the maze of cloquence
A roll of periods fweeter than her fong,
But the too pants for public virtue; the
Though weak in power, yet ftrong in ardent will,
Whene'er her country rushes on her heart,
Affumes a bolder note, and fondly tries
To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame.

When the bright virgin gives the beauteous day And Libra weighs in equal fcales the year; From heaven's high cope the fierce effulgent Of parting Summer, a ferener blue, [ho With golden light enliven'd, wide invefts The happy world. Attemper'd funs arife, Sweet-beam'd, and fhedding oft through lucid cloud A pleafing calm; while broad, and brown, below Extenfive harveft hang the heavy head. Rich, filent, deep, they ftand; for not a gale Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain: A calm for plenty! till the ruffled air Falls from its poife, and gives the breeze to blow. Rent is the fleecy mantle of the fky; The clouds fly different; and the fudden fun By fits effulgent gilds th' illumin'd field, And black by fits the fhadows fweep along. A gaily-checker'd heart-expanding view, Far as the circling eye can fhoot around, Unbounded toffing in a flood of corn.

Thefe are thy bleflings, Induftry! rough power Whom labour still attends, and fweat, and pais;

Y the kind fource of every gentle art, And all the foft civility of life:

Paider of human kind! by Nature cast,
Naked, and helplefs, out amid the woods
And wilds, to rude inclement elements;
With various feeds of art deep in the mind
Implanted, and profufely pour'd around
Materials infinite; but idle all.

Still unexerted, in th' unconscious breast,
Slept the lethargic powers; corruption still,
Voracious, fwallow'd what the liberal hand
Of bounty fcatter'd o'er the favage year:
And itill the fad barbarian, roving, mix'd
With beats of prey; or for his acorn-meal
Fought the fierce tufky boar; a fhivering wretch!
Aghaft, and comfortless, when the bleak north,
With Winter charg'd, let the mixt tempeft fly,
Hail, rain, and fnow, and bitter-breathing froft:
Then to the fhelter of the hut he fled;
And the wild season, fordid, pin'd away.
For home he had not; home is the resort
Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where,
Supported and fupported, polish'd friends,
And dear relations mingle into bliss.
But this rugged favage never felt,
Ev'n defolate in crowds; and thus his days
Roli'd heavy, dark, and unenjoy'd along :
A wafte of time; till industry approach'd,
And rous'd him from his miferable floth:
His faculties unfolded; pointed out
Where lavish Nature the directing hand
Of Art demanded; fhow'd him how to raise
His feeble force by the mechanic powers,
To dig the mineral from the vaulted earth,
On what to turn the piercing rage of fire,
On what the torrent, and the gather'd blast;
Gave the tall ancient foreft to his axe;
Taught him to chip the wood, and hew the stone,
Till by degrees the finifh'd fabric rofe;
Tore from his limbs the blood-polluted fur,
And wrapt them in the woolly veftment warm,
Or bright in gloffy filk, and flowing lawn;
With wholefome viands fill'd his table, pour'd
The generous glafs around, infpir'd to wake
The life refining foul of decent wit:
Nor fop'd at barren bare neceffity;
But, fill advancing bolder, led him on
To pomp, to pleafure, elegance and grace;
And, breathing high ambition through his foul,
Set fcience, wisdom, glory, in his view,
And bade him be the lord of all below.

Then gathering men their natural powers com
And form'd a public; to the general good [bin'd
Submitting, aiming, and conducting all.
For this the patriot-council met, the full.
The free, and fairly reprefented whole;
For this they plann'd the holy guardian laws,
Distinguish'd orders, animated arts,
And, with joint force oppreflion chaining, fet
Imperial justice at the helm; yet ftill
To them accountable; nor flavifh dream'd
That toiling millions must refign their weal,
And all the honey of their fearch, to fuch
As for themselves alone themselves have rais'd.
Hence every form of cultivated life
In order fet, protected, and infpir'd,
isto perfection wrought. Uniting all
Society grew numerous, high, polite,

And happy. Nurfe of art! the city rear'd
In beauteous pride her tower-encircled head;
And, ftretching street on street, by thousands drew,
From twining woody haunts, or the tough yew
To bows ftrong-ftraining, her afpiring fons.

Then commerce brought into the public walk The bufy merchant; the big warehouse built; Rais'd the ftrong crane; chok'd up the loaded ftreet

With foreign plenty; and thy ftream, O Thames,
Large, gentle, deep, majestic, king of floods!
Chofe for his grand refort. On either hand,
Like a long wintery forest, groves of masts
Shot up their fpires; the bellying sheet between
Poffefs'd the breezy void; the footy hulk
Steer'd fluggish on; the fplendid barge along
Row'd, regular, to harmony; around,

The boat, light skimming, fretch'd its oary wings;
While deep the various voice of fervent toil
From bank to bank increas'd; whence ribb'd with

oak

To bear the British thunder, black, and bold,
The roaring veffel rush'd into the main.

Then too the pillar'd done, magnific, heav'd
Its ample roof; and luxury within [fmooth,
Pour'd out her glittering ftores; the canvas
With glowing life protuberant, to the view
Embodied rofe; the ftatue feem'd to breathe,
And foften into flesh, beneath the touch
Of forming art, imagination-flush'd.

All is the gift of industry; whate'er
Exalts, embellishes, and renders life
Delightful. Penfive Winter cheer'd by him'
Sits at the focial fire, and happy hears
Th' excluded tempeft idly rave along;
His harden'd fingers deck the gaudy Spring;
Without him Summer were an arid wafte;
Nor to th' autumnal months could thus transmit
Thofe full, mature, immeasurable stores,
That, waving round, recal my wandering fong.

Soon as the morning trembles o'er the fky,
And, unperceiv'd, unfolds the spreading day;
Before the ripen'd field the reapers stand,
In fair array; each by the lafs he loves,
To bear the rougher part, and mitigate
By nameless gentle offices her toil.

At once they stoop and fwell the lufty fheaves;
While through their cheerful band the rural talk,
The rural fcandal, and the rural jeft,
Fly harmless to deceive the tedious time,
And fteal unfelt the fultry hours away.
Behind the mafter walks, builds up the fhocks;
And, confcious, glancing oft on every side
His fated eye, feels his heart heave with joy.
The gleaners fpread around, and here and there,
Spike after spike, their fcanty harvest pick.
Be not too narrow, husbandmen! but fling
From the full fheaf, with charitable fealth,
The liberal handful. Think, oh, grateful think!
How good the God of harveft is to you;
Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields;
While thefe unhappy partners of your kind
Wide-hover round you like the fowls of heaven,
And afk their humble dole. The various turns
Of fortune ponder; that your fons may want
What now, with hard relu@ance, faint, ye give.
The lovely young Lavinia once had friends;
And fortune fmil'd, deceitful, on her birth

For, in her helplefs years depriv'd of all,
Of every stay, fave innocence and heaven,
She, with her widow'd mother, feeble, old,
And poor, liv'd in a cottage, far retir'd
Among the windings of a woody vale;
By folitude and deep furrounding fhades,
But more by bashful modefty, conceal'd.
Together thus they fhunn'd the cruel fcorn
Which virtue, funk to poverty, would meet
From giddy pamion and low-minded pride:
Almoft on Nature's common bounty fed;
Like the gay birds that fung them to repose,
Content, and careless of to-morrow's fare.
Her form was fresher than the morning rofe,
When the dew wets its leaves; unftain'd and pure,
As is the lily, or the mountain fnow.
The modeft virtues mingled in her eyes,
Still on the ground dejected, darting all
Their humid beams into the blooming flowers:
Or when the mournful tale her mother told,
Of what her faithlefs fortune promis'd once,
Thrill'd in her thought, they, like the dewy star
Of evening, fhone in tears. A native grace
Sat fair-proportion'd on her polish'd limbs,
Veil'd in a fimple robe, their best attire,
Beyond the pomp of drefs; for loveliness
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament,
But is, when unadorn'd, adorn'd the most.
Thoughtlefs of beauty, she was beauty's self,
Reclufe amid the clofe-embowering woods.
As in the hollow breaft of Appenine,
Beneath the shelter of encircling hills
A myrtle rifes, far from human eye,
And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild;
So flourish'd blooming, and unfeen by all,
The fweet Lavinia; till, at length, compell'd
By ftrong neceffity's fupreme command,
With fmiling patience in her looks, he went
To glean Palemon's fields. The pride of fwains
Palemon was, the generous, and the rich;
Who 1.d the rural life in all its joy
And elegance, fuch as Arcadain fong
Tranfmits from ancient uncorrupted times;
When tyrant cuftom had not fhackled man,
But free to follow nature was the mode.
He then, his fancy with autumnal scenes
Amufing, chanc'd befide his reaper-train
To walk, when poor Lavinia drew his eye;
Unconscious of her power, and turning quick
With unaffected blufhes from his gaze:
He faw her charming, but he faw not half
The charms her downcaft modesty cone al'd.
That very moment love and chafte defire
Sprung in his bofem, to himself unknown;
For ftill the world prevail'd, and its dread laugh,
Which scarce the firm philofopher can icorn,
Should his heart own a gleaner in the field:
And thus in fecret to his feul he figh'd.

"What pity! that fo delicate a form, "By beauty kindled, where enlivening fenfe "And more than vulgar goodness seem to dwell, "Should be devoted to the rude embrace "Of fome indecent clown! She looks, methinks, "Of old Acafto's line; and to my mind "Recals that patron of my happy life, "From whom my liberal fortune took its rife ; "Now to the duft gone down; his houfes, lands, "And once fair-fpreading family, diffolv'd.

« "Tis faid that in fome lone obfcure retreat,

Urg'd by remembrance fad, and decent pride, "Far from thofe fcenes which knew their bette "His aged widow and his daughter live, [d "Whom yet my fruitless fearch could never find "Romantic with! would this the daughter were!

When, strict inquiring, from herself he found She was the fame, the daughter of his friend, Of bountiful Acafto; who can fpeak

The mingled paffions that furpris'd his heart,
And through his nerves in fhivering transport re
Then blaz'd his mother'd flame, avow'd, and bo
And as he view'd her, ardent, o'er and o'er,
Love, gratitude, and pity, wept at once.
Confus'd, and frighten'd at his fudden tears,
Her rifing beauties flufh'd a higher bloom,
As thus Palemon, paffionate and just,
Pour'd out the pious rapture of his foul.

"And art thou then Acafto's dear remains? "She, whom my reftlefs gratitude has fought "So long in vain? O, heavens! the very fame, "The foften'd image of my noble friend, "Alive his every look, his every feature, "More elegantly touch'd. Sweeter than Spring "Thou fole furviving bloffom from the root "That nourish'd up my fortune! Say, ah wher "In what fequefter'd desert, haft thou drawn "The kindeft afpect of delighted heaven? "Into fuch beauty spread, and blown fo fair; "Though poverty's cold wind, and crushing rait "Beat keen, and heavy, on thy tender years? "O let me now, into a richer foil, (fhower "Tranfplant thee fafe! where vernal funs, a "Diffuse their warmeft, largest influence; "And of my garden be the pride, and joy! "Ill it befits thee, oh, it ill befits "Acafto's daughter, his whofe open ftores, "Though vaft, were little to his ampler heart, "The father of a country thus to pick "The very refufe of thofe harveft-fields, "Which from his bounteous friendship I enjoy "Then throw that fhameful pittance from thy “hand,

"But ill apply'd to fuch a rugged task;

The fields, the mafter, all, my fair, are thine; "If to the various bleffings which thy houfe "Has on me lavish'd, thou wilt add that blifs, "That dearest blifs, the power of bleffing the

(away

Here ceas'd the youth. yet ftill his fpeaking ey: Exprefs'd the facred triumph of his foul, With confcious virtue, gratitude, and love, Above the vulgar joy divinely rais'd. Nor waited he reply. Won by the charm Of goodness irrefiftible, and all In fweet diforder loft, the blufh'd confent. The news immediate to her mother brought, While, pierc'd with anxious thought, fhe pin'd The lonely moments for Lavinia's fate; Amaz'd, and scarce believing what she heard, Joy feiz'd her wither'd veins, and one bright gleam Of fetting life fhone on her evening hours: Not lefs enraptur'd than the happy pair; Who flourish'd long in tender blifs, and rear'd A numerous offspring, lovely like themselves, And good, the grace of all the country round. Defeating oft the labours of the year, The fultry fouth collects a potent blaft. At first, the groves are fcarcely feen to fir

So full of buoyant fpirit, now no more
Infpire the courfe; but fainting breathlefs toil,
Sick, feizes on his heart: he ftands at bay;
And puts his laft weak refuge in defpair.
The big round tears run down his dappled face;
He groans in anguifh; while the growling pack,
Blood-happy, hang at his fair jutting cheft,
And mark his beauteous checker'd fides with gore.
Of this enough. But if the fylvan youth,
Whofe fervent blood boils into violence,
Must have the chafe; behold, defpifing flight,
The rous'd-up lion, refolute, and flow,
Advancing full on the protended fpear,
And coward-band, that circling wheel aloof.
Slunk from the cavern, and the troubled wood,
See the grim wolf; on him his fhaggy foe
Vindictive fix, and let the ruffian die :
Or, growling horrid, as the brindled boar
Grins fell deftruction, to the monster's heart
Let the dart lighten from the nervous arm.

Thefe Britain knows not; give, ye Britons, then
Your fportive fury, pitylefs, to pour
Loofe on the nightly robber of the fold:
Him, from his craggy winding haunts unearth'd,
Let all the thunder of the chafe pursue.
Throw the broad ditch behind you; o'er the hedge
High-bound, refiftiefs; nor the deep morafs
Refufe, but through the fhaking wilderness
Pick your nice way; into the perilous flood
Bear fearless, of the raging inftinct full;
And as you ride the torrent, to the banks
Your triumph found fono: ous, running round,
From rock to rock, in circling echoes toft;
Then fcale the mountains to their woody tops;
Rush down the dangerous fteep: and o'er the lawn
In fancy swallowing up the space between,
Pour all your speed into the rapid game,
For happy he! who tops the wheeling chase;
Has every maze evolv'd, and every guile
Difclos'd; who knows the merits of the pack;
Who faw the villain feiz'd, and dying hard,
Without complaint, though by an hundred mouths
Relentlefs torn: O glorious he, beyond
His daring peers! when the retreating horn
Calls them to ghoftly halls of gray renown,
With woodland honours grac'd; the fox's fur,
Depending decent from the roof; and spread
Round the drear walls, with antic figures fierce,
The flag's large front: he then is loudest heard,
When the night staggers with feverer toils,
With feats Theffalian Centaurs never knew,
And their repeated wonders shake the dome.
But first the fuel'd chimney blazes wide;
The tankards foam; and the ftrong table groans
Beneath the fmoking furloin, ftretch'd iminenfe
From fide to fide; in which, with defperate knife,
They deep incifion make, and talk the while
Of England's glory, ne'er to be defac'd
While hence they borrow vigour or amain
Into the pafty plung'd, at intervals,
If ftomach keen can intervals allow,
Relating all the glories of the chafe.
Then fated Hunger bids his brother Thirst
Produce the mighty bowl; the mighty bowl,
Swell'd high with fiery juice, fteams liberal round
A potent gale, delicious as the breath
Of Maia to the love-fick fhepherdefs,
On violets diffus'd, while foft the hears

Her panting fhepherd stealing to her arms.
Nor wanting is the brown October, drawn,
Mature and perfect, from his dark retreat
Of thirty years; and now his honeft front
Flames in the light refulgent, not afraid
Ev'n with the vineyard's beft produce to vie.
To cheat the thirsty moments, whift a while
Walks his dull round, beneath a cloud of smoke,
Wreath'd, fragrant. from the pipe; or the q
In thunder leaping from the box, awake [d
The founding gammon: while romp-loving
Is haul'd about, in gallantry robust.

At laft these puling idleneffes laid
Afide, frequent and full, the dry divan
Clofe in firm circle; and fet, ardent, in
For ferious drinking. Nor evafion fly,
Nor fober fhift, is to the puking wretch
Indulg'd apart; but earnest, brimming bowls
Lave every foul, the table floating round,
And pavement, faithlefs to the fuddled foot.
Thus as they fwim in mutual fwill, the talk,
Vociferous at once from twenty tongues,
Reels faft from theme to theme; from h
To church or miftrefs, politics or ghoft, [hou
In endless mazes, intricate, perplex'd.
Meantime, with fudden interruption, loud,
Th' impatient catch bursts from the joyous hea
That moment touch'd is every kindred foul;
And, opening in a full mouth'd cry of joy,
The laugh, the flap, the jocund curfe, go round:
While, from their flumbers fhook, the k
Mix in the mufic of the day again. [be:
As when the tempeft, that has vex'd the dery
The dark night long, with fainter murmursa'
So gradual finks their mirth. Their feeble ung |
Unable to take up the cumbrous word,
Lie quite diffolv'd. Before their maudlin e
Seen dim, and blue, the double tapers dance,
Like the fun wading through the mifty fky.
Then fliding foft, they drop. Confus'd above,
Glaffes and bottles, pipes and gazetteers,
As if the table ev'n itfeif was drunk,
Lie a wet broken fcene; and wide, below,
Is heap'd the focial flaughter; where aftride
The lubber power in filthy triumph fits,
Slumberous, inclining fill from fide to fide,
And steeps them drench'd in potent fleep till ma
Perhaps fome doctor, of tremendous paunch,
Awful and deep, a black abyfs of drink,
Outlives them all; and from his bury'd flock
Retiring, full of rumination fad,
Laments the weakness of thefe latter times.

But if the rougher fex by this fierce fport Is hurried wild, let not fuch horrid joy E'er ftain the bofom of the British Fair. Far be the spirit of the chafe from them! Uncomely courage, unbefeeming skill; To fpring the fence, to rein the prancing flee The cap, the whip, the mafculine attire; In which they roughen to the fenfe, and all The winning foftness of their fex is loft. In them 'tis graceful to diffolve at woe; With every motion, every word, to wave Quick o'er the kindling cheek the ready blah And from the fmalieft violence to fhrink Unequal, then the lovelieft in their fears; And by this filent adulation, foft, To their protection more engaging man.