« ПретходнаНастави »
Nature I'll court in her fequefter'd haunts,
By mountain, meadow, streamlet, grove,or cell; Where the pois’d lark his evening ditty chaunts, And HEALTH, and PEACE, and CONTEMPLA
And FRIENDSHIP pledge me to his fellow
And toil and TEMPERANCE sedately twine
The slender cord that fluttering life fuftains : And fearless POVERTY shall guard the door;
And TASTE unspoiled the frugal table spread; And INDUSTRY supply the humble store;
And SLEEP, unbribed, his dews refreshing shed: White-mantled INNOCENCE, ætherial sprite, Shall chase far off the goblins of the night: And INDEPENDENCE o'er the day preside, Propitious power! my patron and my pride.
IN the barn the tenant cock,
Close to Partlet perch'd on hig!, Briskly crows, (the shepherd's clock')
Jocund that the morning's nighi. Swiftly from the mountain's bro'v,
Shadows, nurs’d by night, retire: And the peeping sun-beam, now,
Paints with gold the village ípire.
Plaintive where the prates at night;
From the low-roof'd cottage ridge,
See the chatt'ring swallow fpring; Darting through the one-arch'd bridge,
Quick the dips her dappled wing. Now the pine-tree's waving top.
Gently greets the morning gale!
Dailies in the dewy dale.
(Restless till her task be done) Now, the busy bee's employ'd
Sipping dew before the sun. Trickling through the crevic'd rock,
Where the limpid stream diftills, Sweet refreshment waits the flock
When ’tis sun-drove from the hills. Colin, for the promis'd corn
(Ere the harvest hopes are ripe) Anxious, hears the huntsman's horn,
Boldly founding, drown his pipe. Sweet, - sweet, the warbling throng,
On the white emblossom'd spray! Nature's universal song,
Echoes to the rising day.
Fervid on the glitt'ring flood,
Now, the noon-tide radiance glows: Drooping o'er its infant bud,
Not a dew-drop's left the rose. By the brook the shepherd dines;
From the fierce meridian heat Shelter'd, by the branching pines,
Pendent o'er his graffy feat.
Now the flock forfakes the glade,
Where, uncheck'd the sun-beams fall; Sure to find a pleasing shade
By the ivy’d Abbey wall. Echo in her airy round,
O'er the river, rock, and hill, Cannot catch a single sound,
Save the clack of yonder mill. Cattle court the zephyrs bland,
Where the streamlet wanders cool;
Midway in the marshy pool.
Not a flutt'ring zephyr (prings :
Scorch its sost, its filken wings. Not a leaf has leave to stir,
Nature's lull'd-ferene-and still! Quiet e’en the shepherd's cur,
Sleeping on the heath-clad hill. Languid is the landscape round,
Till the fresh descending shower,
Raises ev'ry fainting flower.
Now the warblers' throats in tune!
Brighten'd by the beams of noon!
O'er the heath the heifer strays
Free,-(the furrow'd task is done), Now the village windows blaze, Burnish'd by the setting fun.
Now he hides behind the hill,
Sinking from a golden sky: Can the pencil's mimic skill,
Copy the refulgent dye? Trudging as the ploughmen go,
(To the smoking hamlet bound) Giant-like their shadows grow,
Lengthen’d o'er the level ground. Where the rising forest spreads,
Shelter for the lordly dome! To their high-built airy beds,
See the rooks returning home! As the lark with vary'd tune,
Carols to the evening loud; Mark the mild resplendent moon,
Breaking through a parted cloud! Now the hermit howlet peeps
From the barn, or twisted brake: And the blue mist flowly creeps,
Curling on the silver lake.
Playful from its bosom springs;
Verges in successive rings. Tripping through the filken grafs,
O'er the path-divided dale, Mark the rose complexion’d lass,
With her well-pois’d milking pail. Linnets, with unnumber'd notes,
And the cuckoo-bird with two, Tuning sweet their mellow throats,
Bid the setting sun adieu.
THE COUNTRY-BOX. THE wealthy cit, grown old in trade,
Now wishes for the rural shade, And buckles to his one-horse chair, Old Dobbin, or the founder'd mare; While wedg'd in closely by his fide, Sits Madam, his unwieldy bride, With Jacky on a stool before 'em, And out they jog in due decorum. Scarce past the turnpike half a mile, How all the country seems to smile! And as they flowly jog together, The Cit commends the road and weather ; While Madam doats upon the trees, .Ind longs for ev'ry house she sees; 1dmires its views, its situation, And thus she opens her oration:
What signify the loads of wealth,
Sir Traffic's name to well apply'd,