Is there no pow'r this darkness to remove?
The long-lost joys of EDEN to restore?
Or raise our views to happier seats above,

Where fear, and pain, and death, shall be no more?

Yes, those there are who know a SAVIOUR'S love The long-lost joys of EDEN can restore,

And raise their views to happier seats above,

Where fear, and pain, and death, shall be no more? These grateful share the gift of nature's hand,

And in the varied scenes that round them shine, (The fair, the rich, the awful, and the grand) Admire th' amazing workmanship divine.

Blows not a flow'ret in th' enamel'd vale,
Shines not a pebble where the riv❜let strays,
Sports not an insect on the spicy gale,

But claims their wonder and excites their praise.

For them ev'n vernal nature looks more gay,
For them more lively hues the fields adorn;
To them more fair the fairest smile of day,

To them more sweet the sweetest breath of morn.

They feel the bliss that hope and, faith supply ;

They pass serene th' appointed hours that bring The day that wafts them to the realms on high, The day that centers in eternal Spring.

ELEGY II.

WRITTEN IN THE HOT SUMMER, 1757.

THREE hours from noon the passing shadow shows,
The sultry breeze glides faintly o'er the plains,
The dazzling ether fierce and fiercer glows,
And human nature scarce its rage sustains.

Now still and vacant is the dusty street,

And still and vacant where yon fields extend, Save where those swains, oppress'd with toil and heat, The grassy harvest of the mead attend.

Lost is the lively aspect of the ground,

Low are the springs, the reedy ditches dry; No verdant spot in all the vale is found,

Save what yon stream's unfailing stores supply.

Where are the flow'rs that made the garden gay?
Where is their beauty, where their fragrance fled ?
Their stems relax, fast fall their leaves away,
They fade and mingle with their dusty bed.

All but the natives of the torrid zone,

What AFRIC's wilds, or PERU's fields, display, Pleas'd with a clime that imitates the: own, They lovelier bloom beneath the parching ray. Where is wild nature's heart-reviving song,

That fill'd in genial spring the verdant bow'rs?
Silent in gloomy woods, the feather'd throng
Pine thro' this long, long course of sultry hours.

Where is the dream of bliss by Summer brought?
The walk along the riv❜let-water'd vale?
The field with verdure clad, with fragrance fraught,
The sun mild-beaming, and the fanning gale?

The weary soul imagination cheers,

Her pleasing colours paint the future gay;
Time passes on, the truth itself appears,
The pleasing colours instant fade

away:

In diff'rent seasons diff'rent joys we place,

And these shall Spring supply, and Summer these; Yet frequent storms the bloom of Spring deface, And Summer scarcely brings a day to please.

O for some secret, shady, cool recess!

Some Gothic dome o'erhung with darksome trees, Where thick damp walls this raging heat repress,

Where the long aisle invites the lazy breeze.

But why these plaints ?—Amid his wastes of sand, Far more than this the wand'ring ARAB feels; Far more the INDIAN in COLUMBUS' land, While Phoebus o'er him rolls his fiery wheels:

Far more the sensible of mind sustains,

Rack'd with the poignant pangs of fear or shame;
The hopeless lover, bound in beauty's chains,
And he, whom envy robs of hard-earn’d fame :

He, who a father or a mother mourns,
Or lovely consort lost in early bloom;
He, whom the dreaded rage of fever burns,
Or slow disease leads ling'ring to the tomb.

Lest man should sink beneath the present pain,
Lest man should triumph in the present joy;
For him th' unvarying" laws of Heaven ordain"
Hope in his ills, and to his bliss alloy.

Fierce and oppressive is the sun we share,
Yet not unuseful to our humid soil;

Hence shall our fruits a richer flavour bear,

Hence shall our plains with riper harvests smile :

Reflect, and be content-for mankind's good Heav'n gives the due degrees of drought or rain: To-morrow ceaseless show'rs may swell the flood, Nor soon yon sun rise blazing fierce again:

Ev'n now behold the grateful change at hand,

Hark! in the east loud blust'ring gales arise; Wide, and more wide the dark'ning clouds expand, And distant lightnings flash along the skies. O! in the awful concert of the storm,

While hail and rain, and wind and thunder join! Let the Great Ruler's praise my song inform, Let wonder, rev'rence, gratitude, be mine..

ELEGY III.

WRITTEN IN HARVEST.

FAREWEL the pleasant violet-scented shade, The primros'd hill, and daisy-mantled mead, The furrow'd land with springing corn array'd, The sunny wall with bloomy branches spread; Farewel the bow'r with blushing roses gay,

Farewel the fragrant trefoil-purpled field; Farewel the walk through rows of new-mown hay, When ev'ning breezes mingled odours yield; Farewel to these :-now round the lonely farms, Where jocund plenty deigns to fix her seat; Th' autumnal landscape, op'ning all its charms, Declares kind nature's annual work complete..