Ar length the finish'd garden to the view Its viftas opens, and its alleys green.
Snatch'd thro' the verdant maze, the hurried eye
Distracted wanders; now the bowery walk
Of covert close, where scarce a speck of day
Falls on the lengthen'd gloom, protracted sweeps:
Now meets the bending sky: the river now
Dimpling along, the breezy-ruffled lake,
The foreft darkening round, the glittering fpire,
Th' ethereal mountain, and the distant main.
But why so far excurfive? when at hand,
Along these blushing borders, bright with dew,
And in yon mingled wilderness of flowers,
Fair-handed Spring unbofoms every grace;
Throws out the fnow-drop, and the crocus first;
The daily, primrose, violet darkly blue,
And polyanthus of unnumber'd dyes;
The yellow wall-flower, ftain'd with iron brown;
And lavish stock that scents the garden round.
From the foft wing of vernal breezes shed,
Anemonies; auriculas, enrich'd
With fhining meal o'er all their velvet leaves;
And full ranunculas, of glowing red.
Then comes the tulip-race, where Beauty plays
Her idle freaks: from family diffus'd
To family, as flies the father-duft,
The varied colours run; and, while they break
On the charm'd eye, th' exulting florift marks,
With fecret pride, the wonders of his hand.
No gradual bloom is wanting; from the bud,
First-born of Spring, to Summer's musky tribes:
Nor hyacinths, of pureft virgin white,
Low-bent, and blushing inward; nor jonquils,
Of potent fragrance; nor Narciffus fair,
As o'er the fabled fountain hanging still;
Nor broad carnations; nor gay-fpotted pinks;
Nor, shower'd from every bush, the damask-rose.
Infinite numbers, delicacies, fmells,
With hues on hues expreffion cannot paint,
The breath of Nature, and her endless bloom. 555
HAIL, SOURCE OF BEING! UNIVERSAL SOUL
Of Heaven and earth! ESSENTIAL PRESENCE, hail!
TO THEE I bend the knee; to THEE my thoughts,
Continual, climb; who, with a master-hand,
Haft the great whole into perfection touch'd.
By THEE the various vegetative tribes,
Wrapt in a filmy net, and clad with leaves,
Draw the live ether, and imbibe the dew:
By THEE difpos'd into congenial foils,
Stands each attractive plant, and fucks, and fwells
The juicy tide; a twining mafs of tubes.
At THY Command the vernal fun awakes
The torpid fap, detruded to the root
By wintry winds; that now in fluent dance,
And lively fermentation, mounting, spreads
All this innumerous-colour'd fcene of things.
As rifing from the vegetable world
My theme afcends, with equal wing afcend,
My panting Mufe; and hark, how loud the woods Invite you forth in all your gayest trim.
Lend me your fong, ye nightingales! oh pour
The mazy-running foul of melody
Into my varied verfe! while I deduce,
From the first note the hollow cuckoo fings,
The fymphony of Spring, and touch a theme 580 Unknown to fame, the Paffion of the groves.
WHEN firft the foul of love is fent abroad, Warm thro' the vital air, and on the heart Harmonious feizes, the gay troops begin,
In gallant thought, to plume the painted wing; 585
And try again the long-forgotten ftrain,
At first faint-warbled. But no fooner grows
The foft infufion prevalent, and wide,
Than, all alive, at once their joy o'erflows
In mufic unconfin'd. Up-fprings the lark,
Shrill voic'd, and loud, the meffenger of morn;
Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted fings
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts
Calls up the tuneful nations. Every copfe
Deep-tangled, tree irregular, and bush
Bending with dewy moisture, o'er the heads
Of the coy quirifters that lodge within,
Are prodigal of harmony. The thrush
And wood-lark, o'er the kind contending throng
Superior heard, run thro' the sweetest length
Of notes; when liftening Philomela deigns
To let them joy, and purposes, in thought
Elate, to make her night excel their day.
The black-bird whistles from the thorny brake;
The mellow bullfinch anfwers from the
Nor are the linnets, o'er the flowering furze
Pour'd out profufely, filent. Join'd to thefe
Innumerous fongfters, in the freshening shade
Of new-fprung leaves, their modulations mix
Mellifluous. The jay, the rook, the daw,
And each harsh pipe discordant heard alone,
Aid the full concert: while the ftock-dove breathes
A melancholy murmur thro' the whole.
'Tis love creates their melody, and all This waste of mufic is the voice of love;
That even to birds, and beasts, the tender arts
Of pleafing teaches. Hence the gloffy kind
Try every winning way inventive love
Can dictate, and in courtship to their mates
Pour forth their little fouls. First, wide around, 620
With distant awe, in airy rings they rove,
Endeavouring by a thousand tricks to catch
The cunning, confcious, half-averted glance
Of their regardlefs charmer. Should the feem
Softening the least approvance to bestow,
Their colours burnish, and by hope inspir'd,
They brisk advance; then, on a suddeň struck,
Retire disorder'd; then again approach;
In fond rotation spread the spotted wing,
And shiver every feather with defire.
CONNUBIAL leagues agreed, to the deep woods
They haste away, all as their fancy leads,
Pleasure, or food, or secret safety prompts ;
That NATURE's great command may be obey'd:
Nor all the sweet sensations they perceive
Indulg'd in vain. Some to the holly-hedge
Neftling repair, and to the thicket fome;
Some to the rude protection of the thorn
Commit their feeble offspring: The cleft tree
Offers its kind concealment to a few,
Their food its infects, and its mofs their nefts.
Others apart far in the graffy dale,
Or roughening wafte, their humble texture weave.
But moft in woodland folitudes delight,
In unfrequented glooms, or fhaggy banks,
Steep, and divided by a babbling brook,
Whose murmurs soothe them all the live-long day,
When by kind duty fix'd. Among the roots
Of hazel, pendant o'er the plaintive stream,
They frame the first foundation of their domes; 650
Dry fprigs of trees, in artful fabric laid,
And bound with clay together. Now 'tis nought
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