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And liberal eye, fits, from his dark retreat
Inviting modest Want. Nor, till invok'd
Can restless goodness wait: your active search 880
Leaves no cold wintery corner unexplor'd;
Like filent-working Heaven, furprizing oft
The lonely heart with unexpected good.

you the roving spirit of the wind
Blows Spring abroad; for you the teeming clouds 885
Descend in gladsome plenty o'er the world ;
And the sun sheds his kindest rays for

you, Ye flower of human race ! In these green days, Reviving Sickness lifts her languid head : Life flows afresh; and young-ey'd Health exalts 890 The whole creation round. Contentment walks The funny glade, and feels an inward bliss Spring o'er his mind, beyond the power of kings To purchase. Pure ferenity apace Induces thought, and contemplation still. By swift degrees the love of Nature works, And warms the bosom ; till at last sublim'd To rapture, and enthusiastic heat, We feel the present Deity, and taste The joy of God to see a happy world!

900 These are the facred feelings of thy heart, Thy heart inform’d by reason's purer ray, O Lyttelton the friend ! thy paffions thus And meditations vary, as at large, Courting the Mufe, through Hagley Park thou stray'it; Thy British Temple! There along the dale, With woods o'er-hung, and shagg’d with moffy rocks, VOL. I.




Whence on each hand the gushing waters play,
And down the rough cascade white-dashing fall,
Or gleam in lengthen’d vista through the trees, 910
You silent steal ; or fit beneath the shade
Of folemn oks, that tuft the swelling mounts
Thrown graceful round by Nature's careless hand,
And pensive listen to the various voice
Of rural peace: the herds, the flocks, the birds, 915
The hollow-whispering breeze, the plaint of rills,
That, purling down amid the twisted roots
Which creep around, their dewy murmurs shake
On the footh'd ear. From these abstracted oft,
You wander through the philofophic world ; 920
Where in bright train continual wonders rise,
Or to the curious or the pious eye.
And oft, conducted by historic truth,
You tread the long extent of backward time :
Planning, with warm benevolence of mind,

And honeft zeal unwarp'd by party-rage,
Britannia's weal; how from the venal gulph
To raise her virtue, and her arts revive.
Or, turning thence thy view, these graver thoughts
The Muses charm : while, with sure taste refin'd, 930
You draw th' inspiring breath of ancient fong;
Till nobly rises, emulous, thy own.
Perhaps thy lov'd Lucinda shares thy walk,

With foul to thine attun'd. Then Nature all V Wears to the lover's eye a look of love;

935 And all the tumult of a guilty world, Tost by ungenerous paffions, finks away.


The tender heart is animated peace ;
And as it pours its copious treasures forth,
In varied converse, softening every theme, 940
You, frequent pausing, turn, and from her eyes,
Where meeken’d sense, and amiable grace,
And lively sweetness dwell, enraptur’d, drink
That nameless spirit of ethereal joy,
Unutterable happiness ! which love,

Alone, bestows, and on a favour'd few.
Meantime you gain the height, from whose fair brow
The bursting prospect spreads immense around :
And snatch'd o'er hill and dale, and wood and lawn,
And verdant field, and darkening heath between, 950
And villages embosom’d soft in trees,
And spiry towns by surging columns mark'd
Of houshold smoke, your eye excursive roams :
Wide-stretching from the Hall, in whose kind haunt
The Hospitable Genius lingers ftill,

955 ! To where the broken landskip, by degrees, Ascending, roughens into rigid hills; O’er which the Cambrian mountains, like far clouds That skirt the blue horizon, dusky rise.

Fluth'd by the spirit of the genial year, 960 Now from the virgin's cheek a fresher bloom Shoots, less and less, the live carnation round; Her lips blush deeper sweets; the breathes of youth; The shining moisture swells into her eyes, In brighter flow; her wishing bosom heaves, 963 With palpitations wild; kind tumults seize Her veins, and all her yielding foul is love.


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From the keen gaze her lover turns away,
Full of the dear extatic power, and fick
With fighing languifhment. Ah then, ye

Be greatly cautious of your sliding hearts :
Dare not th' infectious figh; the pleading look,
Downcast, and low, in meek submission drest,
But full of guile. Let not the fervent tongue,
Prompt to deceive, with adulation smooth,
Gain on your purpos'd will. Nor in the bower,
Where woodbines flaunt, and rofes shed a couch,
While Evening draws her crimson curtains round,
Trust your soft minutes with betraying Man.

And let th' aspiring youth beware of love,
Of the smooth glance beware ; for 'tis too late,
When on his heart the torrent-Softness pours.
Then wisdom proftrate lies, and fading fame
Diffolves in air away; while the fond soul,
Wrapt in gay visions of unreal bliss,

985 Still paints th’ illusive form ; the kindling grace ; Th’inticing smile; the modest-seeming eye, Beneath whose beauteous beams, belying heaven, Lurk searchless cunning, cruelty, and death : And still false-warbling in his cheated ear, 990 Her fyren voice, enchanting, draws him on To guileful thores, and meads of fatal joy.

Ev'n present, in the very lap of love Inglorious laid ; while music flows around, Perfumes, and oils, and wine, and wanton hours; 995 Amid the roses fierce Repentance rears Her snaky creft: a quick-returning pang




Shoots through the conscious heart; where honour still,
And great design, against the oppreflive load
Of luxury, by fits, impatient heave.

But absent, what fantastic woes arous'd,
Rage in each thought, by restless musing fed,
Chill the warm cheek, and blaft the bloom of life?
Neglected fortune flies; and sliding swift,
Prone into ruin, fall his scorn'd affairs.

'Tis nought but gloom around: the darken'd sun
Loses his light. The rofy-bosom’d Spring
To weeping Fancy pines; and yon bright arch,
Contracted, bends into a dusky vault.
All Nature fades extinct; and the alone
Heard, felt, and seen, possesses every thought,
Fills every sense, and



every vein. Books are but formal dulness, tedious friends ; And fad amid the social band he fits, Lonely, and unattentive. From his tongue 1015 Th’ unfinish'd period falls: while, borne away On swelling thought, his wafted spirit Aies To the vain bosom of his distant fair; And leaves the semblance of a lover, fix'd In melancholy fite, with head declin'd, And love-dejected eyes. Sudden he starts, Shook from his tender trance, and restless runs To glimmering fhades, and sympathetic glooms; Where the dun umbrage o'er the falling stream, Romantic, hangs; there through the pensive duk Strays, in heart-thrilling meditation loft, Indulging all to loye: or on the bank

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