Or fcatters o'er the blooms the pungent duft
Of pepper, fatal to the frofty tribe :
Or, when th' envenom'd leaf begins to curl,
With sprinkled water drowns them in their neft; Nor, while they pick them up with busy bill, The little trooping birds unwifely scares.
Be patient, fwains; these cruel-seeming winds Blow not in vain. Far hence they keep reprefs'd Those deepening clouds on clouds, furcharg'd with rain, That, o'er the vast Atlantic hither borne,
In endless train, would quench the fummer-blaze, 140 And, chearless, drown the crude unripened year.
The north-eaft fpends his rage; he now fhut up Within his iron cave, th' effusive south
Warms the wide air, and o'er the void of heaven Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers diftent. At first a dusky wreath they seem to rise, Scarce ftaining æther; but by fwift degrees, In heaps on heaps, the doubling vapour fails Along the loaded sky, and mingling deep Sits on th' horizon round a fettled gloom : Not fuch as wintery-storms on mortals shed, Oppreffing life; but lovely, gentle, kind, And full of every hope and every joy, The with of Nature. Gradual finks the breeze Into a perfect calm; that not a breath
Is heard to quiver through the clofing woods, Or ruftling turn the many twinkling leaves Of afpin tall. Th' uncurling floods, diffus'd In glaffy breadth, feem through delufive lapse
Forgetful of their courfe. 'Tis filence all, And pleafing expectation. Herds and flocks Drop the dry sprig, and mute-imploring eye The falling verdure. Hufh'd in fhort fufpenfe, The plumy people ftreak their wings with oil, To throw the lucid moisture trickling off; And wait th' approaching sign to strike, at once, Into the general choir. Ev'n mountains, vales, And forests seem, impatient, to demand
The promis'd sweetness. Man fuperior walks. Amid the glad creation, mufing praise, And looking lively gratitude. At last, The clouds confign their treasures to the fields; And, foftly shaking on the dimpled pool Prelufive drops, let all their moisture flow, In large effufion, o'er the freshen'd world. The stealing shower is scarce to patter heard, By fuch as wander through the forest walks, Beneath th' umbrageous multitude of leaves.
But who can hold the fhade, while Heaven defcends In univerfal bounty, fhedding herbs,
And fruits, and flowers, on Nature's ample lap
Swift fancy fir'd anticipates their growth;
And, while the milky nutriment distils, Beholds the kindling country colour round. Thus all day long the full-distended clouds
Indulge their genial stores, and well-fhower'd earth Is deep-enrich'd with vegetable life; Till, in the western sky, the downward fun Looks out, effulgent, from amid the flush
Of broken clouds, gay-fhifting to his beam.
The rapid radiance inftantaneous frikes
Th' illumin'd mountain, through the foreft ftreams, Shakes on the floods, and in a vejow mift,
Far fmoaking o'er th' interminable plain, In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems.
Moift, bright, and green, the landfkip langhs around. Full fwell the woods; their very mufic wakes, Mix'd in wild concert with the warbling brooks Increas'd, the diftant bleatings of the hills, And hollow lows refponfive from the vales, Whence blending all the fweeten'd zephyr fprings. Mean time refracted from yon eaftern cloud, Beftriding earth, the grand ethereal bow Shoots up immense; and every hue unfolds, In fair proportion running from the red, To where the violet fades into the sky. Here, awful Newton, the diffolving clouds Form, fronting on the fun, thy fhowery prism ; And to the fage-inftructed eye unfold The various twine of light, by thee disclos'd From the white mingling maze. Not so the boy; He wondering views the bright enchantment bend, Delightful, o'er the radiant fields, and runs To catch the falling glory; but amaz'd Beholds th' amufive arch before him flv, Then vanish quite away. Still night fucceeds,
A foften'd fhade, and faturated earth
Awaits the morning-beam, to give to light,
Rais'd through ten thousand different plastick tubes,
The balmy treasures of the former day.
Then fpring the living herbs, profufely wild, O'er all the deep-green earth, beyond the power Of botanists to number up their tribes : Whether he steals along the lonely dale,
In filent fearch; or through the forest, rank With what the dull incurious weeds account, Burfts his blind way; or climbs the mountain rock, Fir'd by the nodding verdure of its brow.
With fuch a liberal hand has Nature flung
Their feeds abroad, blown them about in winds, Innumerous mix'd them with the nurfing mold, The moistening current, and prolific rain.
But who their virtues can declare? who pierce, With vifion pure, into these secret stores,
Of health, and life, and joy? The food of man, 235 While yet he liv'd in innocence, and told
A length of golden years; unflesh'd in blood, A ftranger to the favage arts of life, Death, rapine, carnage, furfeit, and disease; The lord, and not the tyrant, of the world.
The firft fresh dawn then wak'd the gladden'd race Of uncorrupted man, nor blush'd to fee
The fluggard fleep beneath its facred beam : For their light flumbers gently fum'd away; And up they rofe as vigorous as the fun, Or to the culture of the willing glebe, Or to the chearful tendance of the flock. Meantime the fong went round; and dance and sport, Wisdom and friendly talk, fucceffive, stole
Their hours away; while in the rofy vale
Love breath'd his infant fighs, from anguish free, And full replete with blifs; fave the fweet pain, That, inly thrilling, but exalts it more.
Nor yet injurious act, nor furly deed,
Was known among thofe happy fons of Heaven; 255 For reafon and benevolence were law. Harmonious Nature too look'd smiling on. Clear fhone the fkies, cool'd with eternal gales, And balmy spirit all. The youthful sun Shot his best rays, and still the gracious clouds Drop'd fatnefs down; as o'er the fwelling mead, The herds and flocks, commixing, play'd fecure. This when, emergent from the gloomy wood, The glaring lion saw, his horrid heart Was meeken'd, and he join'd his fullen joy. For mufic held the whole in perfect peace: Soft figh'd the flute; the tender voice was heard, Warbling the varied heart; the woodlands round Apply'd their quire; and winds and waters flow'd In confonance. Such were those prime of days.
But now those white unblemish'd manners, whence The fabling poets, took their golden age,
Are found no more amid thefe iron times,
Thefe dregs of life! Now the diftemper'd mind Has loft that concord of harmonious, powers, Which forms the foul of happiness; and all Is off the poife within: the paffions all Have burst their bounds; and reason, half extinct, Or impotent, or else approving, fees
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