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O'er these, but far beyond (a spacious 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 seen.
Hence the declivity is harp and short,
And such the re-ascent ; between them weeps:
A little Naïad her impov'rith'd urn
All summer long, which winter fills again.
The folded gates would bar my progress now,
But that the * Lord of this inclos'd demesneg
Communicative of the good he owns,
Admits me to a share: the guiltlefs eye
Commits no wrong, nor waftes what it enjoys.
Refreshing change !' where now the blazing sun ?
short transition we have lost his glare, And stepp'd at once into a cooler clime. Ye fallen avenues ! once more I'mourn
* See the foregoing note.
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 pigus anthems ! while beneath
The chequer'd earth seems reflefs as a flood
Brush'd by the wind. So sportive is the light
Shot through the boughs, it dances as they dance,
Shadow and sunshine intermingling quick,
And dark’ning and enlight’ning, as the leaves
Play wanton, ev'ry moment, ey'ry spot.
And now, with nerves new-brac'd and spirits chear'd, We tread the wilderness, whose well-rol'd walks, With curvature of flow and eafy fweep, Deception innocent-give ample space To narrow bounds. The grove receives us next; Between the upright shafts of whole tall elms We may difcern the thresher at his talk. Thump after thump, refounds the conftant fail, Ca
That seems to swing uncertain, and
Full on the destin'd ear. Wide flies the chaff;
The rustling straw sends up a frequent mist
Of atoms, sparkling in the noon-day beam.
Come hither, ye that press your beds of down
And sleep not: see him sweating o'er his bread
Before he eats it.—'Tis the primal curse,
But foften'd into mercy; made the pledge
Of chearful days, and nights without a groan.
By ceaseless action, all that is, subsists. Conftant rotation of th' unwearied wheel That nature rides
maintains her health,
Her beauty, her fertility. She dreads
An instant'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,
Else noxious : oceans, rivers, lakes, and streams,
All feel the fresh'ning impulse, and are cleans'd
By restless undulation; ev'n the oak
Thrives by the rude concussion of the storm :
He seems indeed indignant, and to feel
Th'impression of the blast with proud disdain,
Frowning as if in his unconscious arm
He held the thunder. But the monarch owes
His firm stability to what he scorns,
More fixt below, the more difturb'd above.
The law, by which all creatures else are bound,
Binds man the lord of all. Himself derives
No mean advantage from a kindred cause,
From strenuous toil his hours of sweetest ease.
The sedentary stretch their lazy length
When custom bids, but no refreshment find,
For none they need: the languid eye, the cheek
Deserted of its bloom, the flaccid, shrunk,
And wither'd muscle, and the vapid soul,
Reproach their owner with that love of rest
To which he forfeits ev'n the rest he loves.
Not such th' alert and active, Measure life
By its true worth, the comforts it affords,
And theirs alone seems worthy of the name.
Good health, and its associate in the most,
Good terper; spirits prompt to undertake,
And not foon fpent, though in an arduous talk;
The pow'rs of fancy and strong thought are theirs į
itself seems privileg'd in them
With clear exemption from its own defects,
A sparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front
The vet'ran fhows, and gracing a grey beard
With youthful smiles, descends toward the
grave Sprightly, and old almost without decay.
Like a čoy maiden, ease, when courted moft, Farthest retires--an idol, at whose shrine
Who oft'neft sacrifice are favor'd least.
The love of Nature, and the scenes she draws,
Is Nature's dictate. Strange ! there thould be found,
Who, self-imprison'd in their proud faloons,
Renounce the odors of the open field