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At thy approach, the wild waves' loud uproar
And foaming furges of the mad'ning main,
Forget to heave their mountains to the fhore;
Diffus'd into the level of the plain.

For thee, the halcyon builds her fummer's neft;
For thee, the ocean fmooths her troubled breati,
Gay from thy placid fmiles, in thy own purple dreft.
Have ye not feen, in gentle even-tide,

When Jupiter the earth had richly shower'd,
Striding the clouds, a bow difpredden wide,
As if with light inwove, and gayly flower'd
With bright variety of blending dies?
White, purple, yellow, melt along the fkies,
Alternate colours fink, alternate colours rife.
The earth's embroidery then have ye ey'd,

And fmile of bloffoms, yellow, purple, white;
Their vernal-tinctur'd leaves, luxurious, dy'd
In Flora's liv'ry, painted by the light.
Lights' painted children in the breezes play,
Lay out their dewy bloffoms to the ray,
Their foft enamel spread, and beautify the day.
From the wide altar of the foodful earth

The flow'rs, the herbs, the plants, their incenfe
roll;

The orchards fwell the ruby-tinctur'd birth;

The vermil gardens breathe the fpicy foul. Grateful to MAY, the nectar-spirit flies, The wafted clouds of lavith'd odours rife, The zephyr's balmy burthen, worthy of the fkies. The bee, the golden daughter of the fpring, From mead to mead, in wanton labour, roves, And loads its little thigh, or gilds its wing With all the effence of the flushing groves : Extracts the aromatic foul of flow'rs,

And, humming in delight, its waxen bowers Fills with the lufcious fpoils, and lives ambrofial hours.

Touch'd by thee, MAY, the flocks and lufty droves, That low in paftures, or on mountains bleat, Revive their frolics and renew their loves,

Stung to the marrow with a generous heat. The fiately courfer, bounding o'er the plain, Shakes to the winds the honours of his mane, (High-arch'd his neck) and, fnuffing, hopes the dappled train.

The aëreal fongfters footh the lift'ning groves:
The mellow thrufh, the ouzle fweetly thrill,
And little linnet, celebrate their loves

In hawthorn valley, or on tufted hill;
The foaring lark, the lowly nightingale,
A thorn her pillow, trills her doleful tale,
And melancholy mufic dies along the dale.
This gay exuberance of gorgeous fpring,

The gilded mountain and the herbag'd vale,
The woods that bloffom, and the birds that fing,
The murmuring fountain, and the breathing dale:
The dale, the fountains, birds and woods delight,
The vales, the mountains, and the spring invite,
Yet, unadorn'd by MAY, no longer charm the fight.
When nature laughs around, fhall man alone,
Thy image, hang (ah me!) the fickly head?
When nature fings, fhall nature's glory groan,
And languifh for the pittance poor of bread?
O may the man that fhall his image fcorn,
Alive, be ground with hunger, most forlorn,
Die unanell'd, and dead, by dogs and kites be torn.
Curs'd may he be (as if he were not fo).

Nay doubly curs'd be fuch a breast of steel, Which never melted at another's woe,

Nor tenderness of bowels knew to feel. His heart is black as hell, in flowing store Who hears the needy crying at his door,

Who hears them cry, ne recks; but fuffers them be poor.

But bleft, O more than doubly bleft be he!
Let honour crown him and eternal reft,
Whofe bofom, the fweet fount of charity,

Flows out to nourish innocence diftreft.
His ear is open to the widow's cries,

His hand the orphan's cheek of forrow dries;
Like mercy's felf he looks on want with pity's eyes.
In this bleft season, pregnant with delight,
Ne may the boding owl with fcreeches wound
The folemn filence of the quiet night,

Ne croaking raven, with unhallow'd found,
Ne damned ghoft affray with deadly yell
The waking lover, rais'd by mighty fpell,
To pale the stars, till Hefper fhine it back to hell.
Ne witches rifle gibbets, by the moon,

(With horror winking, trembling all with fear) Of many a clinking chain, and canker'd bone: Nor imp in vifionary shape appear,

To blaft the thriving verdure of the plain;
Ne let hobgoblin, ne the ponk, profane

With fhadowy glare the light, and mad the bursting brain.

Yet fairy-elves (fo ancient custom's will)

The green-gown'd fairy-elves, by ftarry fheen, May gambol or in valley or on hill,

And leave their footlieps on the circled green. Full lightly trip it, dapper мAB, around;

Full featly, OB'RON, thou, o'er grafs-turf bound: MAB brushes off no dew-drops, OB'RON prints no ground.

Ne bloody rumours violate the ear,

Of cities fack'd, and kingdoms defolate,
With plague or fword, with peftilence or war;
Ne rueful murder ftain thy era-date;

Ne fhamlefs calumny, for fell defpight,
The fouleft fiend that e'er blafphein'd the light,
At lovely lady rail, nor grin at courteous knight.

Ne wailing in our streets nor fields be heard,
Ne voice of mifery affault the heart;
Ne fatherless from table be debar'd;

Ne piteous tear from eye of forrow start;
But plenty, pour thyfelf into the bowl

Of bounty-head; may never want controul
That good-good-honeft man, who feeds the famish'd

foul.

Now let the trumpet's martial thunders fleep;
The viol wake alone, and tender flute :
The Phrygian lyre with fprightly fingers sweep,
And, Erato, diffolve the Lydian lute.

Yet Clio frets, and burns, with honest pain,
To roufe and animate the martial strain,
While British banners flame o'er many a purpled
plain.

Through kind infufion of cœleftial pow'r,

The dullard earth, MAY quick'neth with delight: Full fuddenly the feeds of joy recure

Elaftic fpring, and force within empight.

If fenfelefs elements invigorate prove
By genial MAY and heavy matter move,
Shall shepherdeffes ceafe, fhall fhepherds fail to love.
Ye fhepherdeffes, in a goodly round,

Purpled with health, as in the greenwood fhade, Incontinent ye thump the echoing ground

And defftly lead the dance along the glade; (O may no fhow'rs your merry-makes affray!) Hail at the op'ning, at the clofing day, All hail, ye bonnibells, to your own season, MAY. Nor ye abfent yourfelves, ye fhepherd-fwains, But lend to dance and fong the lib'ral MAY, And while in jocund ranks you beat the plains, Your flocks fhall nibble and your lambkins play, Frifking in glee. To MAY your garlands bring, And ever and anon her praises fing:

The woods fhall echo MAY,with MAY the vallies ring.

Your May-pole deck with flow'ry coronal;
Sprinkle the flow'ry coronal with wine;
And in the nimble footed galliard, all,

Shepherds and fhepherdeffes, lively join.
Hither from village sweet and hamlet fair,
From bordering cot and distant glenne repair,
Let youth indulge its sports, to eld bequeath its care.
Ye wanton dryads and light-tripping fawns,
Ye jolly fatyrs, full of luftihed,

And ye that haunt the hills, the brooks, the lawns,
O come! with rural chaplets gay dispread:
With heel fo nimble wear the fpringing grafs,
To fhrilling bagpipe, or to tinkling brafs;
Or foot it to the reed: Pan pipes himself apace.
In this foft feafon, when creation fmil'd,

A quivering fplendour on the ocean hung,
And from the fruitful froth, his fairest child,
The queen of blifs and beauty, Venus fprung.
The dolphins gambol o'er the wat'ry way,
Carol the naiades, while the tritons play,
And all the fea-green fifters bless the holiday.
In honour of her natal-month, the queen

Of blifs and beauty, confecrates her hours,
Fresh as her cheek, and as her brow ferene,
To buxom ladies, and their paramours.
Love tips with golden alchemy his dart;
With rapt'rous anguish, with an honey'd smart
Eye languishes on eye, and heart diffolves on heart.
A foftly-fwelling hill, with myrtles crown'd,
(Myrtles to Venus algates facred been)
Hight Acidale, the faireft fpot on ground,
Forever fragrant and forever green,
O'erlooks the windings of a fhady vale,
By beauty form'd for amorous regale.
Was ever hill fo fweet, as fweeteli Acidale ?
All down the fides, the fides profufe of flow'rs,
An hundred rills, in fhining mazes, flow

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