Strait as above the surface of the flood They wanton rise, or urg'd by hunger leap, A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod; 410 415 420 The dimpled water speaks his jealous fear. 425 At last, while haply o'er the shaded sun Passes a cloud, he desperate takes the death, With sullen plunge. At once he darts along, Deep struck, and runs out all the lengthen❜d line; Then seeks the farthest ooze, the sheltering weed, 430 The cavern'd bank, his old secure abode ; And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool, D Gives way, you, now retiring, following now And to his fate abandon'd, to the shore 435 THUS pass the temperate hours: but when the sun Shakes from his noon-day throne the scattering clouds, Even shooting listless languor thro' the deeps; Then seek the bank where flowering elders croud, Its balmy essence breathes, where cowslips hang 445 The dewy head, where purple violets lurk, Or lie reclin'd beneath yon spreading ash, Hung o'er the steep; whence, borne on liquid wing, The sounding culver shoots; or where the hawk, 450 There let the classic page thy fancy lead Thro' rural scenes; such as the MANTUAN Swain Paints in the matchless harmony of song. Or catch thyself the landskip, gliding swift 455 Athwart imagination's vivid eye: Or by the vocal woods and waters lull'd, 460 All but the swellings of the soften❜d heart, That waken, not disturb, the tranquil mind. BEHOLD yon breathing prospect bids the muse Throw all her beauty forth. But who can paint 465 Like Nature? Can imagination boast, Amid its gay creation, hues like hers? Or can it mix them with that matchless skill, And lose them in each other, as appears In every bud that blows? If fancy then Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task, Ah what shall language do? ah where find words With that fine oil, those aromatic gales, That inexhaustive flow continual round? YET, tho' successless, will the toil delight. Come then, ye virgins and ye youths, whose hearts And thou, AMANDA, come, pride of my song! Form'd by the Graces, loveliness itself! Come with those downcast eyes, sedate and sweet, Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the soul, 470 475 480 Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart: Oh come! and while the rosy-footed May The morning-dews, and gather in their prime 485 Fresh-blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair, And thy lov'd bosom that improves their sweets. 490 495 A fuller gale of joy, than, liberal, thence Breathes thro' the sense, and takes the ravish'd soul. Nor is the mead unworthy of thy foot, 500 Full of fresh verdure, and unnumber'd flowers, The negligence of Nature, wide, and wild; Where, undisguis'd by mimic Art, she spreads Unbounded beauty to the roving eye. Here their delicious task the fervent bees, 505 In swarming millions, tend: Around, athwart, Thro' the soft air, the busy nations fly; Cling to the bud, and with inserted tube, Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul; And oft, with bolder wing, they soaring dare 510 The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows, And yellow load them with the luscious spoil. AT length the finish'd garden to the view Its vistas opens, and its alleys green. Snatch'd thro' the verdant maze, the hurried eye 515 Distracted wanders; now the bowery walk The forest darkening round, the glittering spire, 520 And in yon mingled wilderness of flowers, 525 Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace; Throws out the snow-drop, and the crocus first; The daisy, primrose, violet darkly blue, And polyanthus of unnumber'd dyes; The yellow wall-flower, stain'd with iron brown; 530 Anemonies; auriculas, enrich'd With shining meal o'er all their velvet leaves; And full ranunculas, of glowing red. 535 Then comes the tulip-race, where Beauty plays The varied colours run; and while they break On the charm'd eye, th' exulting florist marks, 540 |