When most severe, and muft'ring all its force, Whose favour, like the clouds of spring, might low'r, And utter now and then an awful voice, But had a bleffing in its darkest frown, Threat'ning at once and nourishing the plant. His fhelt'ring fide, and wilfully forewent Till time has ftol'n away the flighted good, Is caufe of half the poverty we feel, And makes the world the wilderness it is. The few that pray at all pray oft amifs, And, seeking grace t' improve the prize they hold, Would urge a wifer fuit than afking more. The night was winter in his roughest mood; The morning fharp and clear. But now at noon Upon the fouthern fide of the flant hills, And where the woods fence off the northern blast, The feafon fmiles, refigning all its rage, And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue The dazzling splendour of the scene below. And through the trees I view th' embattled tow'r The foothing influence of the wafted strains, And fettle in foft mufings as I tread The walk, ftill verdant, under oaks and elms, The frequent flakes, has kept a path for me. With flender notes, and more than half fupprefs'd: From spray to spray, where'er he refts he shakes That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below. May think down hours to moments. May give an useful leffon to the head, Here the heart And learning wifer grow without his books. Have oft-times no connexion. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men; Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, The mere materials with which wisdom builds, By which the magic art of shrewder wits Surrender judgment, hood-wink'd. Some the style Of error leads them by a tune entranc'd. While floth feduces more, too weak to bear The infupportable fatigue of thought, And swallowing, therefore, without paufe or choice, The total grift unfifted, husks and all. But trees, and rivulets whofe rapid course Defies the check of winter, haunts of deer, And sheep-walks populous with bleating lambs, Not shy, as in the world, and to be won By flow folicitation, feize at once The roving thought, and fix it on themselves. What prodigies can pow'r divine perform Familiar with th' effect we flight the cause, The regular return of genial months, And renovation of a faded world, See nought to wonder at. Should God again, As once in Gibeon, interrupt the race Of the undeviating and punctual fun, How would the world admire! but speaks it lefs |