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With every kind emotion in his heart,
The speckled captive throw. But should you lure And taught alone to weep; while from her lap From his dark haunt, beneath the tangled roots She pours ten thousand delicacies, herbs,
Of pendant trees, the monarch of the brook, And fruits, as numerous as the drops of rain, Behoves you then to ply your finest art. Or beams that gave them birth: shall he, fair form! Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly; Who wears sweet smiles, and looks erect on Heaven, And oft attempts to seize it, but as oft E'er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd, The dimpled water speaks his jealous fear. And dip his tongue in gore? The beast of prey, At last, while haply o'er the shaded Sun Blood-stain'd, deserves to bleed: but you, ye flocks, Passes a cloud, he desperate takes the death, What have ye done ; ye peaceful people, what, With sullen plunge. At once he darts along, To merit death? you who have given us milk Deep-struck, and runs out all the lengthen'd line : In luscious streams, and lent us your own coat Then seeks the farthest ooze, the sheltering weed, Against the winter's cold? And the plain ox, The cavern'd bank, his old secure abode; That harmless, honest, guileless animal,
And flies aloft, and founces round the pool, In what has he offended ? he, whose toil,
Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand, Patient and ever ready, clothes the land
That feels him still, yet to his furious course With all the pomp of harvest : shall he bleed, Gives way, you, now retiring, following now, And struggling groan beneath the cruel hands Across the stream, exhaust his idle rage : Ev'n of the clown he feeds; and that, perhaps, Till floating broad upon his breathless side, To swell the riot of th' autumnal feast,
And to his fate abandon'd, to the shore Won by his labor ? Thus the feeling heart You gaily drag your unresisting prize. Would tenderly suggest: but 'tis enough,
Thus pass the temperate hours : but when the Sun In this late age, adventurous, to have touch'd Shakes from his noon-day throne the scattering Light on the numbers of the Samian sage.
clouds, High Heaven forbids the bold presumptuous strain, Ev'n shooting listless languor through the deeps; Whose wisest will has fix'd us in a state
Then seek the bank where flowering elders crowd, That must not yet to pure perfection rise.
Where, scatter'd wild, the lily of the vale Now, when the first foul torrent of the brooks, Its balmy essence breathes, where cowslips hang Swelld with the vernal rains, is ebb'd away, The dewy head, where purple violets lurk And, whitening, down their mossy-tinctur'd stream With all the lowly children of the shade: Descends the billowy foam : now is the time, Or lic reclin'd beneath yon spreading ash, While yet the dark-brown water aids the guile, Hung o'er the steep; whence, borne on liquid wing, To tempt the trout. The well-dissembled fly, The sounding culver shoots; or where the hawk, The rod fine-tapering with elastic spring, High, in the beetling cliff, his aëry builds. Snatch'd from the hoary stced the floating line, There let the classic page the fancy lead And all thy slender wat'ry stores, prepare.
Through rural scenes, such as the Mantuan swain But let not on thy hook the tortur'd worm,
Paints in the matchless harmony of
song Convulsive, twist in agonizing folds ;
Or catch thyself the landscape, gliding swift
When with his lively ray the potent Sun Ten thousand wandering images of things,
Or can it mix them with that matchless skill, Their little Naïads love to sport at large.
And lose them in each other, as appears Just in the dubious point, where with the pool In every bud that blows? If fancy then Is mix'd the trembling stream, or where it boils Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task, Around the stone, or from the hollow'd bank Ah, what shall language do? ah, where find words Reverted plays in undulating flow,
Ting'd with so many colors; and whose power There throw, nice judging, the delusive fly; To life approaching, may perfume my lays And as you lead it round in artful curve,
With that fine oil, those aromatic gales, With eye attentive mark the springing game. That inexhaustive flow continual round ? Straight as above the surface of the flood
Yet, though successless, will the toil delight. They wanton rise, or urg'd by hunger leap, Come then, ye virgins and ye youths, whose hearts Then fix, with gentle twitch, the barbed hook: Have felt the raptures of refining love! Some lightly tossing to the grassy bank,
And thou, Amanda, come, pride of my song! And to the shelving shore, slow-dragging some, Form'd by the Graces, loveliness itself! With various hand proportion'd to their force. Come with those downcast eyes, sedate and sweet If yet too young, and easily deceiv'd,
Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the soul, A worthless prey scarce bends your pliant rod, Where, with the light of thoughtful reason mix'd, Him, piteous of his youth, and the short space Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart: He has enjoy'd the vital light of Heaven,
O come! and while the rosy-footed May Soft disengage, and back into the stream
Steals blushing on, together let us cread
The morning dews, and gather in their prime By thee the various vegetable tribes,
See where the winding vale its lavish stores, By thee dispos'd into congenial soils,
And lively fermentation, mounting, spreads
My theme ascends, with equal wing ascend,
The mazy-running soul of melody
The symphony of Spring, and touch a theme Cling to the bud, and, with inserted tube, Unknown to fame, the passion of the groves. Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul ;
When first the soul of love is sent abroad, And oft, with bolder wing, they soaring dare Warm through the vital air, and on the heart The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows, Harmonious seizes, the gay troops begin, And yellow load them with the luscious spoil. In gallant thought, to plume the painted wing;
At length the finish'd garden to the view And try again the long-forgotten strain, Its vistas opens, and its alleys green.
At first saint-warbled. But no sooner grows Snatch'd through the verdant maze, the hurried eye The soft infusion prevalent and wide, Distracted wanders ; now the bowery walk Than, all alive, at once their joy o'erflows Of covert close, where scarce a speck of day
In music unconfin'd. Up springs the lark, Falls on the lengthen'd gloom, protracted sweeps : Shrill-voic'd, and loud, the messenger of morn; Now meets the bending sky; the river now Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings Dimpled along, the breezy rused lake,
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts The forest darkening round, the glittering spire,
Calls up the tuneful nations. Every copse
Bending with dewy moisture, o'er the heads
And wood-lark, o'er the kind-contending throng Throws out the snow-drop, and the crocus first ;
Superior heard, run through the sweetest length The daisy, primrose, violet darkly blue,
Of notes; when listening Philomela deigns And polyanthus of unnumber'd dyes ;
To let them joy, and purposes, in thought The yellow wall-flower, stain'd with iron-brown; Elate, to make her night excel their day. And lavish stock that scents the garden round :
The black-bird whistles from the thorny brake; From the soft wing of vernal breezes shed,
The mellow bull-finch answers from the grove : Anemonies ; auriculas, enrich'd
Nor are the linnels, o'er the flowering furze With shining meal o'er all their velvet leaves; Pour'd out profusely, silent. Join'd to these, And full ranunculus of glowing red.
Innumerous songsters, in the freshening shade Then comes the tulip-race, where beauty plays Of new-sprung leaves, their modulations mix Her idle freaks; from family diffus'd
Mellifluous. The jay, the rook, the daw, To family, as flies the father dust,
And each harsh pipe, discordant heard alone, The varied colors run; and while they break
Aid the full concert: while the stock-dove breathes On the charm'd eye, th' exulting florist marks, A melancholy murmur through the whole. With secret pride, the wonders of his hand.
"Tis love creates their melody, and all No gradual bloom is wanting; from the bud, This waste of music is the voice of love; First-born of Spring, to Summer's musky tribes :
That ev'n to birds, and beasts, the tender arts Nor hyacinths, of purest virgin white,
Of pleasing teaches. Hence the glossy kind Low-bent, and blushing inward ; nor jonquils, Try every winning way inventive love of potent fragrance; nor Narcissus fair,
Can dictate, and in courtship to their mates As o'er the fabled mountain hanging still ;
Pour forth their litile souls. First, wide around, Nor broad carnations, nor gay spotted pinks ;
With distant awe, in airy rings they rove, Nor, shower'd from every bush, the damask-rose. Endeavoring by a thousand tricks to catch Infinite numbers, delicacies, sme'ls,
The cunning, conscious, half-averted glance With hues on hues expression cannot paint, of their regardless charmer. Should she seem The breath of Nature and her endless bloom. Softening the least approvance to bestow, Hail, source of Being! Universal Soul
Their colors burnish, and, by hope inspir'd, of Heaven and Earth! essential Presence, hail ! They brisk advance; then, on a sudden struck, To thee I bend the knee; to thee, my thoughts Retire disorder'd; then again approach; Continual climb; who, with a master-hand, In fond rotation spread the spotted wing, Hast the great whole into perfection touch'd. And shiver every feather with desire.
Connubial leagues agreed, to the deep woods The heath-hen Nutters, pious fraud ! io lead
Be not the Muse asham'd, here to bemoan
Ragged, and all its brightening lustre lost;
Which, clear and vigorous, warbles from the beech.
Spare the soft tribes, this barbarous art forbear;
Music engage, or piety persuade.
But let not chief the nightingale lament
Her ruin'd care, too delicately fram'd
Robb'd, to the ground the vain provision falls;
Can bear the mourner to the poplar shade;
But now the feather'd youth their former bounds,
Ardent, disdain ; and, weighing oft their wings,
Demand the free possession of the sky.
Unlavish'd Wisdom never works in vain.
When nought but balm is breathing through the
On Nature's common far as they can see,
Dancing about, still at the giddy verge
In loose libration stretch'd, to trust the void On the new parents seize! Away they fly Trembling refuse : till down before them fly Affectionate, and undesiring bear
The parent-guides, and chide, exhort, command, The most delicious morsel to their young ;
Or push them off. The surging air receives Which equally distributed, again
Its plumy burden ; and their self-taught wings
Till, vanish'd every fear, and every power
Rous'd into life and action, light in air
High from the summit of a craggy cliff,
On utmost Kilda's* shore, whose lonely race,
Unstain'd he holds, while many a league to sea
He wings his course, and preys in distant isles.
Should I my steps turn to the rural seat, Around him feeds his many-bleating flock, Whose lofty elms, and venerable oaks,
Of various cadence; and his sportive lambs, Invite the rook, who high amid the boughs, This way and that con volv'd, in friskful glee In early Spring, his airy city builds,
Their frolics play. And now the sprightly race And ceaseless caws amusive ; there, well pleas’d, Invites them forth; when swift, tho signal given, I might the various polity survey
They start away, and sweep the massy mound Of the mixt household kind. The careful hen That runs around the hill; the rampart once Calls all her chirping family around,
Of iron war, in ancient barbarous times, Fed and defended by the fearless cock;
When disunited Britain ever bled, Whose breast with ardor flames, as on he walks Lost in eternal broil: ere yet she grew Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond, To this deep-laid indissoluble state, [heads, The finely-chequer'd duck, before her train, Where Wealth and Commerce lift their golden Rows garrulous. The stately sailing swan And o'er vur labors, Liberty and Law, Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale;
Impartial, watch; the wonder of a world! And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet
What is this mighty Breath, ye sages, say, Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier-isle, That, in a powerful language, felt, not heard, Protective of his young. The turkey nigh, Instructs the fowls of heaven; and through their Loud threatening reddens; while the peacock
These arts of love diffuses? What, but God? His every-color'd glory to the Sun,
Inspiring God! who, boundless Spirit all, And swims in radiant majesty along.
And unremitting Energy, pervades,
While thus the gentle tenants of the shade Is this complex stupendous scheme of things.
Th'informing Author in his works appears :
And air, attest his bounty; which exalts Scarce seen, he wades among the yellow broom, The brute creation to this finer thought, While o'er his ample side the rambling sprays And annual melts their undesigning hearts Luxuriant shoot; or through the mazy wood Profusely thus in tenderness and joy. Dejected wanders, nor th' enticing bud
Still let my song a nobler note assume, Crops, though it presses on his careless sense. And sing th' infusive force of Spring on man; And oft, in jealous maddening fancy wrapt, When heaven and earth, as if contending, vie He seeks the fight; and, idly butting, feigns To raise his being, and serene his soul. His rival gor'd in every knotty trunk.
Can he forbear to join the general smile Him should he meet, the bellowing war begins : of Nature ? Can fierce passions vex his breast, Their eyes flash fury; to the hollow'd earth, While every gale is peace, and every grove Whence the sand flies, they mutter bloody deeds, Is melody? Hence! from the bounteous walks And, groaning deep, th' impetuous batile mix : Of Nowing Spring, ye sordid sons of Earth, While the fair heifer, balmy breathing, near, Hard, and unfeeling of another's woe! Stands kindling up their rage. The trembling steed, Or only lavish to yourselves ; away! With this hot impulse seiz'd in every nerve, But come, ye generous minds, in whose wide thought, Nor heeds the rein, nor hears the sounding thong; Of all his works, creative Bounty burns Blows are not felt; but, tossing high his head, With warmest beam ; and on your open front, And by the well-known joy to distant plains And liberal eye, sits, from his dark retreat Attracted strong, all wild he bursts away; Inviting modest Want. Nor, till invok'd, O'er rocks, and woods, and craggy mountains flies : Can restless goodness wait: your active search And, neighing, on th' aërial summit takes
Leaves no cold wintery corner unexplor'd ; Th'exciting gale; then, steep-descending, cleaves Like silent-working Heaven, surprising oft The headlong torrents foaming down the hills, The lonely heart with unexpected good. Ev'n where the madness of the straiten'd stream For you, the roving spirit of the wind Turns in black eddies round; such is the force Blows Spring abroad; for you, the teeming clouds With which his frantic heart and sinews swell. Descend in gladsome plenty o'er the world ;
Nor undelighted by the boundless Spring And the Sun sheds his kindest rays for you, Are the broad monsters of the foaming deep:
Ye flower of human race! In these green days, From the deep ooze and gelid cavern rous'd, Reviving Sickness lists her languid head : They founce and tumble in unwieldy joy. Life flows afresh ; and young-ey'd Health exalts Dire were the strain, and dissonant, to sing The whole oreation round. Contentment walks The cruel raptures of the savage kind :
The sunny glade, and feels an inward bliss
And warms the bosom ; till at last sublim'd
The joy of God to see a happy world!
These are the sacred feelings of thy heart, With sighing languishment. Ah then, ye fair! Thy heart inform'd by reason's purer ray,
Be greatly cautious of your sliding hearts : O Lyttleton, the friend! thy passions thus Dare not th’infectious sigh; the pleading look, And meditations vary, as at large,
Downcast, and low, in meek submission drest, Courting the Muse, through Hagley Park thou But full of guiie. Let not the fervent tongue, stray'st;
Prompt to deceive, with adulation smooth, Thy British Temple! There along the dale, Gain on your purpos’d will. Nor in the bower, With woods o'er-hung and shagg’d with mossy rocks, Where wood bines flaunt, and roses shed a couch, Whence on each hand the gushing waters play, While Evening draws her crimson curtains round, And down the rough cascade white-dashing fall, Trust your soft minutes with betraying man. Or gleam in lengthen'd vista through the trees, And let th' aspiring youth beware of love, You silent steal; or sit beneath the shade
Of the smooth glance beware ; for 'tis too late, of solemn oaks, that lust the swelling mounts When on his heart the torrent-softness pours. Thrown graceful round by Nature's careless hand, Then wisdom prostrate lies, and fading fame And pensive listen to the various voice
Dissolves in air away: while the fond soul, Of rural peace: the herds, the Rocks, the birds, Wrapt in gay visions of unreal bliss, The hollow-whispering breeze, the plaint of rills, Still paints th'illusive form; the kindling grace; That, purling down amid the twisted roots Th' enticing smile; the modest-seeming eye, Which creep around, their dewy murmurs shake Beneath whose beauteous beams, belying Heaven, On the sooth'd ear. From these abstracted oft, Lurk searchless cunning, cruelty, and death: You wander through the philosophic world ; And still false-warbling in his cheated ear, Where in bright train continual wonders rise, Her syren voice, enchanting, draws him on Or to the curious or the pious eye.
To guileful shores, and meads of fatal joy. And oft, conducted by historic truth,
Ev'n present, in the very lap of love You tread the long extent of backward time; Inglorious laid ; while music fows around, Planning, with warm benevolence of mind, Perfumes, and oils, and wine, and wanton hours; And honest zeal, unwarp'd by party-rage,
Amid the roses fierce Repentance rears Britannia's weal; how from the venal gulf Her snaky crest: a quick-returning pang [still, To raise her virtue, and her aris revive.
Shoots through the conscious heart, where honor Or, turning thence thy view, these graver thoughts And great design, against the oppressive load The Muses charm: while, with sure taste refin'd, of luxury, by fits, impatient heave. You draw th' inspiring breath of ancient song ; But absent, what fantastic woes, arous'd, Till nobly rises, emulous, thy own.
Rage in each thought, by restless musing fed, Perhaps thy lov'd Lucinda shares thy walk, Chill the warm cheek, and blast the bloom of life! With soul to thine altund. Then Nature all Neglected fortune flies; and sliding swift, Wears to the lover's eye a look of love;
Prone into ruin, fall his scorn'd affairs. And all the lumult of a guilty world,
"Tis nought but gloom around : the darken'd Sun Tost by ungenerous passions, sinks away.
Loses his light. The rosy-bosom'd Spring The lender heart is animated peace;
To weeping fancy pines; and yon bright arch, And as it pours its copious treasures forth, Contracted, bends into a dusky vault. In varied converse, softening every theme, All Nature fades extinct; and she alone You, frequent pausing, turn, and from her eyes, Heard, felt, and seen, possesses every thought, Where meeken'd sense, and ainiable grace, Fills every sense, and panis in every vein. And lively sweetness dwell, enraptur'd, drink Books are but formal dullness, tedious friends; That nameless spirit of ethereal joy,
And sad amid the social band he sits, Unutterable happiness! which love,
Lonely, and unattentiv From his tongue Alone, bestows, and on a favor'd few.
Th' unfinish'd period falls : while, borne away Meantime you gain the height, from whose fair brow On swelling thought, his wasted spirit flies The bursting prospect spreads immense around: To the vain bosom of his distant fair; And stretch'd o'er hill and dale, and wood and lawn, And leaves the semblance of a lover fix'd And verdant field, and darkening heath between, In melancholy site, with head declin'd, And villages embosom'd soli in trees,
And love-dejected eyes. Sudden he starts, And spiry towns by surging columns mark'd Shook from his tender trance, and restless runs of household smoke, your eye excursive roams : To glimmering shades, and sympathetic glooms; Wide-stretching from the hall in whose kind haunt Where the dun umbrage o'er the falling stream, The hospitable genius lingers still,
Romantic, hangs; there through the pensive dusk To where the broken landscape, by degrees, Strays, in heart-thrilling meditation lost; Ascending, roughens into rigid hills ;
Indulging all to love: or on the bank O'er which the Cambrian mountains, like far clouds Thrown, amid drooping lilies, swells the breeze That skirt the blue horizon, dusky rise.
With sighs unceasing, and the brook with tears. Flush'd by the spirit of the genial year, Thus in soft anguish he consumes the day, Now from the virgin's cheek a fresher bloom Nor quits bis deep retirement, till the Moon Shoots, less and less, the live carnation round; Peeps through the chambers of the fleecy east, Her lips blush deeper sweets; she breathes of youth; Enlighten'd by degrees, and in her train The shining moisture swells into her eyes, Leads on the gentle hours; then forth he walks, In brighter flow; her wishing bosom heaves Beneath the trembling languish of her beam, With palpitations wild; kind tumults seize With soften’d soul, and wooes the bird of eve Her veins, and all her yielding soul is love. To mingle woes with his : or while the world From the keen gaze her lover turns away,
And all the sons of care lie hush'd in sleep, Full of the dear ecstatic power, and sick
Associates with the midnight shadows drear;