When most severe, and muft'ring all its force, Whofe favour, like the clouds of fpring, might low'r, And utter now and then an awful voice, But had a bleffing in its darkest frown, Threat'ning at once and nourishing the plant. We lov'd, but not enough, the gentle hand His fhelt'ring fide, and wilfully forewent "Till time has ftol'n away the flighted good, Is caufe of half the poverty we feel, And makes the world the wilderness it is. The few that pray at all pray oft amifs, And, feeking grace t' improve the prize they hold, Would urge a wifer fuit than asking more. The night was winter in his roughest mood, The morning fharp and clear. But now at noon Upon the fouthern fide of the flant hills, And where the woods fence off the northern blast, The feafon fimiles, refigning all its rage, And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue The dazzling splendour of the fcene below. And through the trees I view th' embattled tow'r The foothing influence of the wafted ftrains, And settle in soft mufings as I tread The walk ftill verdant, under oaks and elms, Whofe outspread branches overarch the glade. The frequent flakes, has kept a path for me. With flender notes and more than half suppress'd: From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below. May think down hours to moments. May give an useful leffon to the head, Here the heart And learning, wiser grow without his books. Have oft-times no connexion. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men, Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. The mere materials with which wisdom builds, Surrender judgment, hood-wink'd. Some, the style Of error leads them, by a tune entranc'd. While floth feduces more, too weak to bear The infupportable fatigue of thought, And fwallowing, therefore, without pause or choice, The total grift unfifted, husks and all. But trees, and rivulets whofe rapid courfe 7 Defies Defies the check of winter, haunts of deer, And sheep-walks, populous with bleating lambs, Peeps through the mofs that cloaths the hawthorn root, Not fhy, as in the world, and to be won By flow folicitation, feize at once The roving thought, and fix it on themselves. What prodigies can pow'r divine perform Familiar with th' effect we flight the cause, The regular return of genial months, And renovation of a faded world, Should God again, See nought to wonder at. As once in Gibeon, interrupt the race Of the undeviating and punctual fun, How would the world admire! but speaks it lefs An |