The treasures of the Sun without his rage:
Hence, fervent all, with culture, toil, and arts,

Wide glows her land: her dreadful thunder hence Rides o'er the waves fublime, and now, even now, Impending hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coast; Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world.

430

'Tis raging Noon; and, vertical, the Sun
Darts on the head direct his forceful rays.
O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye
Can sweep, a dazling deluge reigns; and all
From pole to pole is undistinguish'd blaze.
In vain the fight, dejected to the ground,
Stoops for relief; thence hot ascending steams
And keen reflection pain. Deep to the root
Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields

435

440

And flippery lawn an arid hue disclose,
Blast Fancy's blooms, and wither even the Soul.
Echo no more returns the chearful found

445

Of sharpening scythe: the mower finking heaps
O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfum'd;
And scarce a chirping grass-hopper is heard
'Thro' the dumb mead. Distressful Nature pants.
The very streams look languid from afar;
Or, thro' th' unshelter'd glade, impatient, seem
To hurl into the covert of the grove.

450

ALL-CONQUERING Heat, oh intermit thy wrath !

And on my throbbing temples potent thus

Beam

Beam not so fierce! Incessant still you flow,
And still another fervent flood succeeds,

Pour'd on the head profuse. In vain I figh,
And restless turn, and look around for Night;
Night is far off; and hotter hours approach.
Thrice happy he! who on the sunless side
Of a romantic mountain, forest-crown'd,
Beneath the whole collected shade reclines :
Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought,
And fresh bedew'd with ever-spouting streams,
Sits coolly calm; while all the world without,
Unsatisfied, and fick, tosses in noon.
Emblem instructive of the virtuous Man,

Who keeps his temper'd mind ferene, and pure,
And every paffion aptly harmoniz'd,

Amid a jarring world with vice inflam'd.

445

460

465

WELCOME, ye shades! ye bowery thickets, hail!

470

Ye lofty pines! ye venerable oaks!.
Ye ashes wild, refounding o'er the steep!
Delicious is your shelter to the foul,
As to the hunted hart the fallying spring,
Or stream full-flowing, that his swelling fides
Laves, as he floats along the herbag'd brink.
Cool, thro' the nerves, your pleasing comfort glides;
The heart beats glad; the fresh-expanded eye
And ear refume their watch; the finews knit;
And life shoots fwift thro' all the lighten'd limbs.

475

AROUND

AROUND th' adjoining brook, that purls along

The vocal grove, now fretting o'er a rock,

481

Now scarcely moving thro' a reedy pool,
Now starting to a sudden stream, and now

Gently diffus'd into a limpid plain;

A various groupe the herds and flocks compose, 485

Rural confufion! On the graffy bank

Some ruminating lie; while others stand

Half in the flood, and often bending fip

The circling surface. In the middle droops

The ftrong laborious ox, of honest front,

490

Which incompos'd he shakes; and from his fides
The troublous infects lashes with his tail,

Returning still. Amid his subjects safe,
Slumbers the monarch-wain; his carelefs arm 494
Thrown round his head, on downy moss sustain'd;

Here laid his scrip, with wholesome viands fill'd:
There, listening every noise, his watchful dog.

LIGHT fly his slumbers, if perchance a flight Of angry gad-flies fasten on the herd; That startling scatters from the shallow brook, 500 In search of lavish stream. Tossing the foam, They scorn the keeper's voice, and scour the plain, Thro' all the bright severity of noon; While, from their labouring breasts, a hollow moan Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills. 505

OFT in this season too the horse, provok'd, While his big finews full of fpirits swell,

Trembling

Trembling with vigour, in the heat of blood,
Springs the high fence; and, o'er the field effus'd,
Darts on the gloomy flood, with stedfast eye,
And heart estrang'd to fear: his nervous chest,
Luxuriant, and erect, the feat of strength !

510

Bears down th' opposing stream: quenchless his thirst;
He takes the river at redoubled draughts";
And with wide nostrils, snorting, skims the wave.

STILL let me pierce into the midnight depth
Of yonder grove, of wildest largest growth:
That, forming high in air a woodland quire,
Nods o'er the mount beneath. At every step,
Solemn, and flow, the shadows blacker fall,
And all is awful liftening gloom around.

514

520

THESE are the haunts of Meditation, these The scenes where ancient bards th' inspiring breath, Extatic, felt; and, from this world retir'd, Convers'd with angels, and immortal forms, On gracious errands bent: to save the fall Of virtue ftruggling on the brink of vice;

525

In waking whispers, and repeated dreams,
To hint pure thought, and warn the favour'd foul

For future trials fated to prepare;

530

To prompt the poet, who devoted gives

His muse to better themes; to footh the pangs
Of dying worth, and from the patriot's breast,

(Backward to mingle in detefted war,

But

i

|

But foremost when engag'd) to turn the death; 535
And numberless such offices of love,

Daily, and nightly, zealous to perform.

Эноок fudden from the bosom of the sky,
A thousand shapes or glide athwart the dusk,
Or stalk majestic on. Deep-rous'd, I feel
A facred terror, a severe delight,

540

Creep thro' my mortal frame; and thus, methinks,
A voice, than human more, th' abstracted ear
Of fancy strikes. "Be not of us afraid,

" Poor kindred Man! thy fellow-creatures, we 545
"From the fame PARENT-POWER our beings drew,
"The fame our Lord, and laws, and great pursuit.
"Once some of us, like thee, thro' stormy life,
"Toil'd, tempeft-beaten, ere we could attain
"This holy calm, this harmony of mind,

"Where purity and peace immingle charms.
" Then fear not us; but with responsive song,

"Amid these dim recesses, undisturb'd

"

By noify folly and discordant vice,

550.

" Of Nature sing with us, and Nature's GoD. 555

" Here frequent, at the vifionary hour,

"When musing midnight reigns or filent noon,

"

Angelic harps are in full concert heard,

" And voices chaunting from the wood-crown'd hill, "The deepening dale, or inmost silvan glade: 560

"A privilege bestow'd by us, alone,

" On Contemplation, or the hallow'd ear

" Of