Ever charming, ever new,

When will the landscape tire the view!
The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody vallies, warm and low;
The windy fummit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky;

The pleafant feat, the ruin'd tow'r,
The naked rock, the shady bow'r,
The town and village, dome and farm,
Each give each a double charm,
As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm.

See on the mountain's southern fide,
Where the profpect opens wide-
Where the evening gilds the tide !
How clofe and fmall the hedges lie!
What freaks of meadows cross the eye?
A ftep methinks may pafs the ftream?
So little diftant dangers feem;

So we mistake the future's face
Ey'd thro' Hope's deluding glafs;
As yon fummits soft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,

Which to thofe who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear;
Still we tread the fame coarse way,
The prefent's fill a cloudy day.
I with myfelf agree,

O may

And never covet what I fee!

Content me with an humble fhade,
My paffions tam'd, my wifhes laid;
For while our wishes wildly roll,
We banish quiet from the foul:

}

"Tis thus the busy beat the air;
And mifers gather wealth and care.
Now, ev'n now my joys run high
As on the mountain-turf I lie;
While the wanton Zephyr fings,
And in the vale perfumes his wings;
While the waters murmur deep;

While the fhepherd charms his sheep;
While the birds unbounded fly
And with mufic fill the sky,

Now, ev'n now, my joys run high.
Be full, ye courts, be great who will,
Search for

peace with all your fkill;

Open wide the lofty door,

Seek her on the marble floor;

In vain you search, she is not there;
In vain ye fearch the domes of Care!
Grafs and flowers Quiet treads,
On the meads and mountain heads,
Along with Pleasure, close ally'd,
Ever by each other's fide:
And often, by the murm'ring rill,
Hears the thrush, while all is ftill,
Within the groves of Grongar Hill.

}

}

CHAP. VIII.

HYMN TO ADVERSITY.

DAUGHTER of Jove, resentless power,

Thou tamer of the human breast,

Whofe iron fcourge and tott'ring hour
The bad affright, afflict the best!

DYER.

Bound in thy adamantine chain,

The proud are taught to taste of pain,

And purple tyrants vainly groan

With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.

When first thy fire to fend on earth
Virtue, his darling child, defign'd,
To thee he gave the heav'nly birth,
And bade thee form her infant mind.
Stern, rugged nurfe! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year the bore:
What forrow was, thou bad'ft her know,

And from her own fhe learn'd to melt at other's woe.

Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly

Self-pleafing Folly's idle brood,

Wild Laughter, Noife, and thoughtless Joy,

And leave us leisure to be good.

Light they difperfe, and with them go

The fummer friend, the flatt'ring foe;

By vain profperity receiv'd,

To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd.

Wisdom, in fable garb array'd,

Immers'd in rapt'rous thought profound,

And Melancholy, filent made,

With leaden eye, that loves the ground,

Still on thy folemn steps attend

Warm Charity, the gen'ral friend,

With Juftice to herself fevere,

And Pity, dropping, soft the fadly pleafing tear.

Oh! gently on thy fuppliant's head,

Dread goddefs, lay thy chaft'ning hand?
Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,

Nor circled with the vengeful band!

(As by the impious thou art feen)

With thund'ring voice, and threat'ning mien,
With fcreaming Horror's funeral cry,
Defpair, and fell Difeafe, and ghafly Poverty..

Thy form benign, oh! goddefs, wear,
Thy milder influence impart,

Thy philofophic train be there.

To foften, not to wound my heart.

The gen'rous fpark, extinct, revive,

Teach me to love and to forgive;

Exact my own defects to scan,

What others are to feel, and know myfelf a man.

CHAP. IX.

GRAY.

ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE..

YE diftant fpires! ye antique towers!

That crown the wat'ry glade,
Where grateful Science ftill adores
Her HENRY's holy fhade;

And, ye that from the ftately brow

Of WINDSOR's heights th' expanfe below

Of grove, of lawn, of mead furvey,

Whofe turf, whofe fhade, whofe flow'rs among

Wanders the hoary THAMES along

His filver-winding way,

Ah!

Ah! happy hills; ah! pleafing fhade;

Ah! fields belov'd in vain;

Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
A stranger yet to pain!

I feel the gales that from ye blow,
A momentary bliss bestow,

As waving fresh their gladfome wing,
My weary foul they feem to footh,
And, redolent of joy and youth,
To breathe a second spring.

Say, father THAMES! (for thou haft feen
Full many a sprightly race,
Difporting on thy margent green,
The paths of pleasure trace)
Who foremost now delight to cleave
With pliant arm thy glaffy wave ?
The captive linnet which enthral ?
What idle progeny fucceed

To chase the rolling circle's fpeed,
the flying ball?

Or

urge

While fome, on earnest business bent,

Their murm'ring labours ply

'Gainft graver hours, that bring constraint

To fweeten liberty:

Some bold adventurers difdain

The limits of their little reign,

And unknown regions dare descry:,
Still, as they run, they look behind,
They hear a voice in ev'ry wind,
And fnatch a fearful joy.