XIII. From labour health, from health contentment fprings. Contentment opes the fource of every joy. He envied not, he never thought of kings; Nor from thefe appetites fuftain'd annoy, Which chance may fruftrate, or indulgence cloy; Nor Fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled; He mourn'd no recreant friend, nor miftrefs coy, For on his vows the blameless Phœbe fmil'd, And her alone he loved, and loved her from a child. XIV. No jealoufy their dawn of love o‘ercast, Nor blafted were their wedded days with ftrife: To the fond husband, and the faithful wife. Where peace and love are canker'd by the worm XV. The wight whofe tale thefe artlefs lines unfold, Nor aught that might a ftrange event declare. And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy; Deep thought oft feem'd to fix his infant eye. And now he laugh'd aloud, yet none knew why. The neighbours ftar'd and figh'd, yet bleft the lad: Some deem'd him wond'rous wife, and some believ'd him mad. XVII. But why should I his childish feats difplay? XVIII. Th' exploit of ftrength, dexterity, or speed, His heart, from cruel fport enftranged, would bleed By trap, by net, by arrow, or by fling; And fure the fylvan reign unbloody joy might yield. XIX. Lo? where the tripling, wrapt in wonder, roves For aught the huntfmen's puny craft fupplies? XX. And oft he traced the uplands, to furvey, The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain grey, (fmile. But, lo! the fun appears! and heaven, earth, ocean XXI. And oft the craggy cliff he lov'd to climb, When all in mift the world below was loft. When dreadful pleafure! there to stand fublime, Like fhipwreck'd mariner on defart coaft, And view th' enormous waste of vapour, toft In billows, lengthening to the horizon round, Now fcoop'd in gulfs, with mountains now embofs'di And hear the voice of mirth and fong rebound, Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound! XXII. In truth he was a strange and wayward wight, A figh, a tear, so fweet, he wish'd not to controul. XXIII. " O ye wild groves, O where is now your bloom!" (The Mufe interprets thus his tender thought.) Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom, Of late fo grateful in the hour of drought! Why do the birds, that fong and rapture brought To all your bowers, their mansions now forfake? Ah! why has fickle chance this ruin wrought; For now the storm howls mournful through the brake, And, the dead foliage flies in many a fhapelefs flake. XXIV. Where now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool, Fied each fair form, and mute each melting found, And, hark! the river, buriting every mound, Down the vale thunders; and with wafteful fway, Uproots the grove, and rolls the shatter'd rocks away. XXV. 'Yet fuch the defliny of all on earth : Ye blighting whirlwinds, fpare his balmy prime, Born on the fift, though filent, wings of Time, Old-age comes on a pace to ravage all the clime. XXVI. And be it fo. Let thofe deplore their doom, Whofe hopes ftill grovels in this dark fojourn. But lofty fouls who look beyond the tomb, Can fmile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn. Shall fpring to thefe fad fcenes no more return? Is yonder wave the fun's eternal bed?— Soon fhall the orient with new luftre burn, And fpring fall foon her vital influence shed, Again attune, the grove, again adorn the mead. XXVII. Shall I be left abandon'd in the dust, When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive? 6 +6 No Heaven's immortal fpring fhall yet arrive Bright through th' eternal year of Love's triumphant reign.' XXVIII. This truth fublime his fimple fire had taught, • Let man's own sphere, (quoth he) confine his view, Be man's peculiar work his fole delight.' And much, and oft, he warn'd him, to efchew Falfehood and guile, and aye maintain the right, By pleasure unfeduced, unawed by lawless might.. XXIX. And, from the prayer of Want, and plaint of Wo, Forlorn in this bleak wilderness below, Ah! what were men, fhould Heaven refufe to hear! What to thyfelf thou wifheft to be done. XXX. See in the rear of the warm funny shower, The vifionary boy from fhelter fly! For now the form of fummer rain is o’er, Ard cool, and fresh, and fragrant is the sky! And, lo! in the dark east, expanded high, The rainbow brightens to the fetting fun; Fond fool, that deem'st the streaming glory nigh, How vain the chace thine ardour has begun! 'Tis fled afar, ere half thy purposed race be run. XXXI. Yet could't thou learn, that thus it fares with age, When pleasure, wealth, or power, the bosom warm, |