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And to the quire celestial Thee resound,
Th' eternal cause, support, and end of all!
To me be Nature's volume broad-display'd ;
And to peruse its all-instructing page,
Or, haply catching inspiration thence,
Some easy paffage, raptur'd, to translatc,
My sole delight; as thro' the falling glooms
Pensive I ftray, or with the rising dawn
On Fancy's eagle-wing excurfive foar,
Now, flaming up the heavens, the potent fun
Melts into limpid air the high-rais'd clouds,
And morning fogs, that hovered round the hills
In party-colour'd bands; till wide unveild
The face of Nature shines, from where earth seems,
Far-stretch'd around, to meet the bending sphere.
Half in a blush of clustering roses loft, Dew-dropping Goolness to the shade retires ; There, on the verdant turf, or flowery bed, By gelid founts and careless rills to muse; While tyrant Heat, dispreading thro’ the sky, With rapid sway, his burning influence darts On Man, and beast, and herb, and tepid stream.
Who can unpitying see the flowery race, Shed by the morn, their new-flush'd bloom resign, Before the parching beam? So fade the fair,
When fevers revel thro' their azure veins.
But one, the lofty follower of the sun,
Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves,
Drooping all night; and, when he warm returns,
Points her enamour'd bosom to his ray.
Home, froin his morning task, the swain retreats ;
His flock before him stepping to the fold:
While the full-udder'd mother lows around
The cheerful cottage, then expecting food,
The food of innocence, and health! The daw,
The rook and magpie, to the grey-grown oaks
That the calm village in their verdant arms,
Sheltering, embrace, direct their lazy flight;
Where on the mingling boughs they fit embower'd,
All the hot noon, till cooler hours arise.
Faint, underneath, the houshold fowls convene ;
And, in a corner of the buzzing shade,
The house-dog, with the vacant greyhound, lies,
Out-stretch'd, and sleepy. In his flumbers one
Attacks the nightly thief, and one exults
O'er hill and dale; till, wakened by the wafp,
They starting snap. Nor shall the Mufe disdain
To let the little noisy summer-race
Live in her lay, and flutter thro' her song:
Not mean tho' fimple; to the sun ally'd,
From him they draw their animating fire.
Wak’d by his warmer ray, the reptile young
Come wing'd abroad; by the light air upborn,
Lighter, and full of soul. From every chink,
And secret corner, where they slept away
The wintry storms; or rising from their tombs,
To higher life ; by myriads, forth at once,
Swarming they pour; of all the vary'd hues
Their beauty-beaming parent can disclofe.
Ten thousand forms! ten thoufand different tribes!
People the blaze. To funny waters fome
By fatal inftin&t Ay; where on the pool
They, sportive, wheel; or, failing down the stream,
Are fnatch'd immediate by the quick-ey'd trout,
Or darting falmon. Thro' the green-wood glade
Some love to stray; there lodg'd, amus'd and fed,
In the fresh leaf. Luxurious, others make
The meads their choice, and visit every flower,
latent herb: for the sweet talk,
To propagate their kinds, and where to wrap,
In what soft beds, their young yet undisclos'd,
Employs their tender care, Some to the house,
The fold, and dairy, hungry, bend their flight;
Sip round the pail, or taste the curdling cheese ;
Oft, inadvertent, from the milky stream
They meet their fate; or, weltering in the bowl,
With powerless wings around them wrapt, expire.
But chief to heedless flies the window proves
A conftant death ; where, gloomily retir'd,
The villain spider lives, cunning, and fierce,
Mixture abhorr'd! Amid a mangled heap
Of carcasses, in eager watch he fits,
O'erlooking all his waving fnares around.
Near the dire cell the dreadless wanderer oft
Passes, as oft the ruffian shows his front;
The prey at last enfnar'd, he dreadful darts,
With rapid glide, along the leaning line ;
And, fixing in the wretch his cruel fangs,
Strikes backward grimly pleas’d: the fluttering wing,
And Ihriller found declare extreme distress,
And ask the helping hospitable hand.
Resounds the living surface of the ground:
Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hum,
To him who muses thro' the woods at noon ;
Or drowsy shepherd, as he lies reclin'd,
With half-shut eyes, beneath the floating shade
Of willows grey, close-crowding o’er the brook.
Gradual, from these what numerous kinds descend, Evading even the microscopic eye!
Full Nature swarms with life ; one wond'rous mass
Of animals, or atoms organiz'd,
Waiting the vital Breath, when PARENT-HEAVEN
Shall bid his spirit blow. The hoary fen,
In putrid steams, emits the living cloud
Of pestilence. Throʻ subterranean cells,
Where searching fun-beams scarce can find a way,
Earth animated heaves. The flowery leaf
Wants not its soft inhabitants. Secure,
Within its winding citadel, the itone
Holds multitudes. But chief the forest-boughs,
That dance unnumber'd to the playful breeze,
The downy orchard, and the melting pulp
Of mellow fruit, the nameless nations feed
Of evanescent insects. Where the pool
Stands mantled o'er with green, invisible,
Amid the floating verdure millions stray.
Each liquid too, whether it pierces, fooths,
Infames, refreshes, or exalts the taste,
With various forms abounds. Nor is the stream
Of purest crystal, nor the lucid air,
Tho' one transparent vacancy it seems,
Void of their unseen people. These, conceal’d
By the kind art of forming Heaven, escape
The grosser eye of Man : for, if the worlds