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Of the fine stores he nothing would impart. Which or boon Nature gave, or nature-painting Art.
LVIII. To noontide shades incontinent he ran, Where purls the brook with sleep-inviting found; Or when Dan Sol to flope his wheels began, Amid the broom he balk'd him on the ground, Where the wild thyme and camomoil are found : There would he linger, till the latest ray Of light sat trembling on the welkin's bound;
Then homeward through the twilight shadows stray, Sauntering and Now. So had he passed many a day.
LIX. Yet not in thoughtless slumber were they past : For oft the heavenly fire, that lay conceal'd Beneath the sleeping embers, mounted faft, And all its native light anew reveald: Oft as he travers'd the cerulean field, And markt the clouds that drove before the wind, Ten thousand glorious systems would he build,
Ten thousand great ideas fill'd his mind; But with the clouds they fed, and left no trace behind.
Ne ever utter'd word, save when first shone
[is done." Here lurk'd a wretch, who had not crept abroad For forty years, ne face of mortal feen; In chamber brooding like a loathly toad : And sure his linen was not very clean. Through secret loop-holes, that had practis'd been Near to his bed, his dinner vile he took ; Unkempt, and rough, of fqualid face and mien,
Our castle's shame! whence, from his filthy nook, We drove the villain out for fitter lair' to look.
ween, If in this nook of quiet bells had ever been.
LXIII. But not ev'n pleasure to excefs is good : What most elates then finks the foul as low : When spring-tide joy pours in with copious flood, The higher still th' exulting billows flow, The farther back again they flagging go, And leave us groveling on the dreary shore : Taught by this fon of joy, we found it fo;
Who, whilst he staid, kept in a gay uproar Our madden'd castle all, th' abode of sleep no more.
LXIV. As when in prime of June a burnish'd fly, Sprung from the meads, o'er which he fweeps along, Chear’d by the breathing bloom and vital sky, Tunes up amid these airy halls his song, Soothing at first the gay repofing throng : And oft he fips their bowl; or, nearly drown'd, He, thence recovering, drives their beds among,
And scares their tender sieep, with trump profound; Then out again he flies, to wing his mazy round.
Whenas we found he would not here be pent,
LXVI, “ Come,
LXVI. " Come, dwell with us! true son of virtue, come! “ But if, alas! we cannot thee persuade, “ To lie content beneath our peaceful dome, “ Ne ever more to quit our quiet glade; “ Yet when at last thy toils but ill apaid “ Shall dead thy fire, and damp its heavenly spark, “ Thou wilt be glad to seek the rural shade,
" There to indulge the Muse, and nature mark : “ We then a lodge for thee will rear in Hagley-Park."
LXVII. Here whilom ligg’d th’Efopus * of the age; But call'd by Fame, in soul ypricked deep, A noble pride restor'd him to the stage, And rouz'd him like a giant from his sleep. Ey'n from his flumbers we advantage reap : With double force thenliven'd scene he wakes, Yet quits not nature's bounds. He knows to keep
Each due decorum : now the heart he shakes, And now with well-urg'd fenfe th' enlighten’d judge
[ment takes. A bard here dwelt, more fat than bard beseems; + Who, void of envy, guile, and lust of gain, On virtue ftill, and nature's pleasing themes, Pour'd forth his unpremeditated strain : The world forfaking with a calm difdain Here laugh'd he careless in his easy feat ; Here quaff'a encircled with the joyous train,
Oft moralizing fage ; his ditty sweet He loathed much to write, ne cared to repeat. * Mr. Quin.
+ This character of Mr. Thomson was written by Lord Lyttelton.
Which when obsery'd, he shrunk into his mew,
Has clear'd their inward eye: then, smoak-enrollid, Their oracles break forth mysterious as of old.
LXXI. Here languid beauty kept her pale-fac'd court : Bevies of dainty dames, of high degree, From every quarter hither made refort; Where, from gross mortal care and business free, They lay, pour'd out in ease and luxury. Or should they a vain shew of work assume, Alas! and well-a-day! what can it be?
To knot, to twist, to range the vernal bloom ; But far is cast the distaff, spinning-wheel, and loom.