THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY
ASTOR, LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS
OME, gentle SPRING, ethereal Mildness, come,
And from the bofom of yon dropping cloud,
While mufic wakes around, veil'd in a fhow'r
Of fhadowing rofes, on our plains defcend.
O HARTFORD, fitted or to fhine in courts
With unaffected grace, or walk the plain
With innocence and meditation join'd
In foft affemblage, liften to my fong,
Which thy own season paints; when Nature all
Is blooming and benevolent, like thee..
AND fee where furly WINTER paffes off,
Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts :
his blafts obey, and quit. the howling hill,
The fhatter'd foreft, and the ravag'd vale;
While fofter gales fucceed, at whofe kind touch,
Diffolving fnows in livid torrents loft,
The mountains lift their green heads to the fay.
As yet the trembling year is unconfirm❜d, And WINTER oft at eve resumes the breeze, Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving fleets
Deform the day delightless: fo that scarce
The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulph'd
To fhake the founding marth; or from the fhore
The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath,
And fing their wild notes to the lift'ning waste.
Ar laft from Aries rolls the bounteous Sun,
And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more
Th' expanfive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold;
But, full of life and vivifying foul,
Lifts the light clouds fublime, and spreads them thin, 30 Fleecy and white, o'er all-furrounding heav'n.
FORTH fly the tepid airs; and unconfin'd,
Unbinding earth, the moving foftness strays.
Joyous, th' impatient husbandınan perceives
Relenting Nature, and his lufty steers
Drives from their stalls, to where the well-us'd plough
Lies in the furrow, loofened from the frost.
There, unrefufing, to the harness'd yoke
They lend their fhoulder, and begin their toil,
Chear'd by the fimple fong and foaring lark.
Mean while incumbent o'er the fhining share
The mafter leans, removes th' obstructing clay,
Winds the whole work, and fidelong lays the glebe.
WHITE thro' the neighb'ring fields the fower stalks, With meafur'd step; and lib'ral throws the grain 45 Into the faithful bofom of the ground;
The harrow follows harfh, and fhuts the fcene..
BE gracious, HEAVEN! for now laborious man
Has done his part. Ye foft'ring breezes, blow!
Ye foft'ning dews, ye tender fhow'rs, defcend!
And temper all, thou world-reviving Sun,
Into the perfect year! Nor ye who live
In luxury and ease, in pomp and pride,
Think these loft themes unworthy of your ear;
Such themes as these the rural MARO fung
To wide-imperial ROME, in the full height
Of elegance and tafte, by GREECE refin'd.
In ancient times, the facred plough employ'd
The Kings, and awful fathers of mankind;
And fome, with whom compar'd your infect-tribes Ge
Are but the beings of a fummer's day,
Have held the fcale of empire, rul'd the storm
Of mighty war; then, with victorious hand,
Disdaining little delicacies, feiz'd
The plough, and greatly independent liv'd.
YE gen'rous BRITONS, venerate the plough;
And o'er your hills, and long withdrawing vales,
Let Autumn fpread his treasures to the fun,
Luxuriant and unbounded; as the sea,
Far through his azure turbulent domain,
Your empire owns, and from a thousand fhores
Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports ;
So with fuperior boon may your rich foil,
Exuberant, Nature's better bleffings pour
O'er every land, 1 the naked nations clothe,
And be th' exhaustlefs gran'ry of a world!
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