Mother severe of infinite delights! Of the Sole Being right, who spoke the word, By boundless Love and perfect Wisdom form'd, E eching th on the mind, th, good richest bounty f time & aming mingles both the human blossom as it rolls father's lustre the kind hand lightful tank to f teach the young pour the fres breathe the en e generous pape speak the joy! prises often nd nothing s various Nature elegant effe tirement, raal g se and alternate hese are the and thus they ceaseles d find them AUTUMN. THE ARGUMENT. The subject proposed.-Addressed to Mr. Onslow. -A prospect of the fields ready for harvest.Reflections in praise of industry raised by that view.-Reaping.-A tale relative to it.-A harvest storm.-Shooting and hunting, their barbarity.-A ludicrous account of fox-hunting.—A view of an orchard.-Wall-fruit.-A vineyard.A description of fogs, frequent in the latter part of Autumn; whence a digression, enquiring into Birds of the rise of fountains and rivers. season considered, that now shift their habitation.-The prodigious number of them that cover the northern and western isles of Scotland.Hence a view of the country.-A prospect of the discoloured, fading woods.-After a gentle dusky day, moonlight.-Autumnal meteors.-Morning : to which succeeds a calm, pure, sun-shiny day, such as usually shuts up the season.-The harvest being gathered in, the country dissolved in joy. -The whole concludes with a panegyric on a philosophical country life. CRO ROWN'D with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf, While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain, Comes jovial on, the Doric reed once more, Well pleas'd, I tune. Whate'er the wint'ry frost Nitrous prepar'd; the various blossom'd Spring Put in white promise forth; and Summer suns Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view, Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme. Onslow! the Muse, ambitious of thy name, To grace, inspire, and dignify her song, Would from the Public Voice thy gentle ear A while engage. Thy noble cares she knows, The patriot virtues that distend thy thought, Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow; While listening senates hang upon thy tongue, Devolving thro' the maze of eloquence, A roll of periods, sweeter than her song. But she too pants for public virtue, she, Tho' weak of power, yet strong in ardent will, Whene'er her country rushes on her heart, Assumes a bolder note, and fondly tries To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame. When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days, And Libra weighs in equal scales the year; From heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook With golden light enlivened, wide invests Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow. The clouds fly different; and the sudden sun These are thy blessings, Industry! rough power! Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain; Yet the kind source of every gentle art, And all the soft civility of life; Raiser of human kind! by Nature cast, |