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435 Divinely great; they in their powers exult, Of never-ending wonders, to conceive That wondrous force of thought, which mounting of the Sole Being right, who spoke the word, spurns
And Nature mov'd complete. With inward view, This dusky spot, and measures all the sky; Thence on th' ideal kingdom swift she turns While, froin his far excursion though the wilds Her eye; and instant, at her powerful glance, Of barren ether, faithful to his time,
Th' obedient phantoms vanis' or appear ; They see the blazing wonder rise anew,
Compound, divide, and into order shift, In sceining terrour clad, but kindly bent
Fach to his rank, from plain perception up To work the will of all-sustaining Love :
To the fair forms of Fancy's ficeting train : From his huge vapoury train perhaps to shake To reason then, deducing truth from truth ; Reviving moisture on the numerous orbs,
And notion quite abstract; where first begins Through which his long ellipsis winds; perhaps The world of spirits, action all, and life To lend new fuel to decliving suns,
Unfetter'd, and unmixt. But here the cloud, To light up worlds, and feed th' eternal fire. So wills Eternal Providence, sits deep. With thee, serene Philosophy, with thee,
Enough for us to know that this dark state, And thy bright garland, let me crown my song! In wayward passions lost, and vain pursuits, Effusive source of evidence, and truth !
This infancy of Being, cannot prove A lustre shedding o'er th' ennobled mind,
The final issue of the works of God, Stronger than summer-noon; and pure as that,
By boundless love and perfect wisdom form’d,
And ever rising with the rising mind.
The subject proposed. Addressed to Mr. Onslow. A The first up-tracing, from the dreary void,
prospect of the fields ready for harvest. Reflec. The chain of causes and effects to Him,
tions in praise of industry raised by that view. The world-producing Essence, who alone
Reaping. A tale relative to it. A harvest-storm. Possessi's being ; while the last receives
Shooting and hunting, their barbarity. A luThe whole magnificence of Heaven and Earth,
dicrous account of fox-hunting. A view of an And every beauty, delicate or bold,
orchard. Wall-fruit. A vineyard. A description Obvious or more remote, with livelier sense,
of fogs, frequent in the latter part of Autumn : Diffusive painted on the rapid mind.
whence a digression, inquiring into the rise of Tutord by thee, hence Poetry exalts
fountains and rivers. Birds of season considered, Her voice to ages; and informs the page
that now shift their habitation. The prodigious With music, image, sentiment, and thought,
number of them that cover the northern and Never to die! the treasure of mankind !
western isles of Scotland. Hence a view of the Their highest honour, and their truest joy! Without thee what were unenlighten'd man?
country. A prospect of the disculoured, fading
woods. After a gentle dusky day, moon-light. A savage roaming through the woods and wilds,
Autumnal meteors. Morning: to which succeeds In quest of prey; and with th' unfashion'd fur
a calm, pure, sun-shiny day, such as usually Rough-clad; devoid of every finer art,
shuts up the season. The harvest being gathered And elegance of life. Nor happiness
in, the country dissolved in joy. The whole Domestic, mix'd of tenderness and care,
concludes with a panegyric on a philosophical Nor moral excellence, nor social bliss,
Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain, The burning line, or dares the wintery pole;
Comes jovial on: the Doric reed once more, Mother severe of infinite delights !
Well pleas'd, I tune. Whate'er the Wintery Nothing, save rapine, indolence, and guile,
frost And woes on woes, a still-revolving train!
Nitrous prepar'd; the various-blossom'd Spring
Put in white promise forth; and Summer suns
Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view, To live like brothers, and conjunctive all
Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme.
Onslow! the Muse, ambitious of thy name, Embellish life. While thus laborious crowds
To grace, inspire, and dignify her song, Ply the tough oar, Philosophy directs
Would from the public voice thy gentle ear The ruling helm ; or like the liberal breath
A while engage. Thy noble care she knows,
The patriot virtues that distend thy thought,
Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow;
While listening senates hang upon thy tongue,
Devolving through the maze of eloquence
A roll of periods sweeter than her song.
But she too pants for publie virtae; she
With wholesoine viands fill'd his table, pour'd Though weak of power, yet strong in ardent will, The generous glass around, inspir'd to wake Whene'er her country rushes on her heart,
The life-refining soul of dcccut wit: Assumes a bolder notc, and fundly trics
Nor stopp'd at barren bare necessity; To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame.
But, still advancing bolder, led him on When the bright \rgin gives the beauteous days, To pomp, to pleasure, elegance, and grace ; And Libra weighs in cqual scales the year; Ani, breathing high ambition through his soul, From Heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence Set science, wisdom, glory, in his view, shook
And bade him be the lord of all below. Of parting Summer, a serener blue,
Then gathering men their natural powers With golden light enliren'd, wide invests
The free, and tairly represente si hule ;
And, with joint force Oppression chaining, set Falls from its poise, and gives the bre ze to blow. | Imperial Justice at the helm ; yet still Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky ;
To them accountable; nor slavish dream'd The clouds fly different; and the sudden Sun That toiling millions must resign their weal, By fits effulgent gilds th' illuinin'd field,
And all the honey of their search, to such And black by fits the shadows sweep along. As for themselves alone theinselres have raisidh A gaily-checker'd heart-expanding view,
Hence every form of cultivated life Far as the circling eye can shoot around,
lo order set, protected, and inspir'd, Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn.
Into perfection wrought. Uniting all These are thy blessings, Industry! rough power; Society grew numerous, bich, polite, Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain; And happy. Nurse of art! the city rear'd Yet the kind source of every gentle art,
In beauteous pride her tower-encircled head; And all the soft civility of life :
And, stretching street on strect, by thousands drew, Raiser of human-kind! by Nature cast,
From twining woody harirts, or the tough yew Naked, and helpless, out amid the woods
To bons strong-straining, her aspiring sons. And wilds, to rude inclement elements;
Then Commerce brought into the public walk With various seeds of art deep in the mind The busy merciant; tie big warehouse built; Implanted, and profusely pou'd around
Ruis'd the strong crane; choak'd up the loaded Materials inlinite; but idle all.
street Still unexerted, in th' unconscious breast,
With foreign plenty; and thy stream, O Thames, Slept the lethargic powers ; corruption still, Large, gentle, dup, majestic, king of foods! Voracious, swallow'd what the liberal hand Chose for his grand resort. On either hand, Of bounty scatter'd o'er the savage rear:
Like a long wintery forest, groves of masts And still the sad barbarian, roving, mix’d
Shot up their spires; the bellying sheet between With bcasts of prey; or for his acorn-meal Possess' the breezy void; the sooty hulk Fought the perce tusky boar; a shivering wretch! Steer'd sluggish on; the splendid barge along Aghast, and comfortless, when the bleak north, Row'd, regular, to harmony; around, With Winter charg'd, let the mix'd tempest fly, The boat, light skinniog, tretch'd its oary wings; Hail, rain, and snow, and bitter-breathing frost: While deep the various voice of fervent toil Then to the shelter of the hut he tled;
From bank to bankincreas'd; whence ribb'd with oak And the wild season, soriid, pin'd away.
To bear the British thunder, black, and bold, Fur home he had not ; hoine is the resort
The roaring vessel rush'd into the main. Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where, Then tvo the pillar'd dome, magnific, heav'd Supported and supporting, polish'd friends, Its ample root; and Luxury within And dear relations mingle into bliss
Pour'd out her glittering stores; thecanvass smooth, But this the rugged savage never felt,
With glowing lite protuberant, to the view Ev'n desolate in crowds; and thus bis days Embodieci rose; the stalic sceni'd to breathe, Roll'd heavy, dark, and unenjoy'd along:
And softun into flesh, ix neatb the touch
All is the gift of Industry; whate'er
xalts, embellishes, and renders life Where lavish Nature the directing hand
Delightful. Pensive l'inter cheer'd by bina
Th’excluded tempest idly rave along;
Without him Summer were an arid waste; On what the torrent, and the guither'd blast; Nor to th' Autumnal months could thus transmit Gave the tall ancient surest to his axe;
Those full, mature, immeasurable stores, Taught bin to chip the wood, and hew the stone, That, waving round, recall my wandering song Tilby degrees the finish 'd fabric rose;
Soon as the morning trembles o'er the sky, Tore froin his limbs the blood-polluted fur, And, ubperceivid, unfolds the spreading day; And wrapt them in the woolly vestinent warm, Before the ripen'd field the reapers stand, Os bright in glossy silk, and flowing Lawn ; lu fair array; enote by the lass be loves,
To bear the rougher part, and mitigate
He then, his fancy with autumnal scenes By nameless gentle offices her toil.
Amusing, chanc'd beside his reaper-train At once they stoop and swell the lusty shcaves ; To walk, when poor Lavinia drew his eye; While through their cheerful band the rural talk, Unconscious of her power, and turning quick The rural scandal, and the rural jest,
With unaffected blushes from his gaze : Fly harmless, to deceive the tedious time,
He saw her charming, but he saw not half And steal unfelt the sultry hours away.
The charms her downcast modesty conceald. Behind the master walks, builds-up the shocks ; That very moment love and chaste desire And, conscious, glancing oft on every side Sprung in his busom, to himself unknown; His sated eye, feels his beart heave with joy. For still the world prevail'd, and its dread laugh, The gleaners spread around, and here and there, Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn, Spike after spike, their scanty harvest pick. Should his heart own a gleaner in the field : Be not too narrow, husbandmen ; but fling And thus in secret to his soul he sigh'd. From the full sheaf, with charitable stealth,
“ What pity! that so delicate a form, The liberal handful. Think, oh, grateful think! By beanty kindled, where enlivening sense How good the God of Harvest is to you;
And more than vulgar goodness seem to dwell, Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields; Should be devoted to the rude embrace While these unhappy partners of your kind Of some indecent clown! She looks, methinks, Wide-hover round you like the fowls of Heaven, Of old Acasto's line; and to my mind And ask their humble dole. The various turns Recalls that patron of my happy life, Of fortune ponder; that your sons may want From whom my liberal fortune took its rise ; What now, with hard reluctance, faiot, ye give. Now to the dust gone down; his houses, lauds,
The lovely young Lavinia once had friends; And once fair-spreading family, dissolv'd. And Fortune smild, deceitful, on her birth. 'Tis said that in some lone obscure retreat, For, in her helpless years depriv'd of all,
Urg'd by remembrance sad, and decent pride, Of every stay, save Innocence and Heaven, Far from those scenes which knew their better She, with her widow'd mother, feeble, old, His aged widow and his daughter live, (days, And poor, livid in a cottage, far retir'd
Whom yet my fruitless search could never find. Among the windings of a woody vale;
Romantic wish! would this the daughter were !" By solitude and deep surrounding shades,
When, strict inquiring, from herself he found But more by bashful modesty, conceal'd.
She was the same, the daughter of his friend, Together thus they shunnd the cruel scorn
Of bountiful Acasto; who can speak Which virtue, sumk to poverty, would meet The mingled passions that surpris'd his heart, From giddy passion and low-inindeil pride : And through his nerves in shivering transport ran? Almost on Nature's common bounty fed ;
Then blaz'd his smother'a fame, avow'd, and bold; Like the gay birds that sung their to re-pose,
And as he view'd her, ardent, o'er and o'er, Content, and careless of to morrow's fare.
Love, gratitude, and pity, wept at once. Her form was fresher than the morning rose, Confus’d, and frighten'd at his sudden tears, When the dew wets its leaves; unstaind and Her rising beauties Aush'd a higher bloom, pure,
As thus Palemon, passionate and just, As is the lily, or the mountain snow.
Pour'd out the pious rapture of his soul. The modest virtues mingled in her eyes,
“ And art thou then Acasto's dear remains ? Still on the ground dejected, darting all
She, whom my restless gratitude has sought Their bumid beams into the blooming flowers : So long in vain? 0, Heavens! the very same, Or when the mournful tale her mother told, The soften'd image of my noble friend, Of what her faithless fortune promis'd once,
Alive his every look, his every feature, Thrill'd in her thought, they, like the dewy star More elegantly touch'd. Sweeter than Spring! Of evening, shone in tears. A native grace Thou sole surviving blossom from the root Sat fair-proportion'd on her polish'd limbs, That nourish'd up my fortune ! say, ah where, Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire,
In what sequester'd desert, hast thou drawn Beyond the pomp of dress ; for loveliness
The kindest aspect of delighted Heaven? Necds not the foreign aid of ornament,
Into such beauty spread, and blown so fair ; But is when unadorn'd adorn'd the most.
Though poverty's cold wind, and crushing rain, Thoughtless of beauty, she was Beauty's self, Beat keen, and heavy, on thy tender years? Recluse amid the close-embowering woods.
O let me now, into a richer soil, (showers, As in the hollow breast of Appennine,
Transplant thee safe! where vernal suns, and Bencath the shelter of encircling hills
Diffuse their warmest, largest influence,
And of my garden be the pride, and joy!
Acasto's daughter, his whose open stores, The sweet Lavinia ; till, at length, compelld Though vast, were little to his ampler heart, By strong Necessity's supreme command,
The father of a country, thus to pick With smiling patience in her looks, she went The very refuse of those harvest-ficlds, To glean Patemous fields. The pride of swains Which from his bounteous friendsbip 1 enjoy. Palemon was, the generous, and the rich; Then throw that shameful pittance from thy hand, Who led the rural life in all its joy
But ill apply'd to such a rugged task; And clegance, such as Arcadian song
The fields, the master, all, my fair, are thine ; 'Transmits from ancient uncorrupted times; If to the various blessings which thy house When tyrant custom had not shackled man, Has on me lavish’d, thou wilt add that bliss, But free to follow nature was the mode.
That dearest bliss, the power of blessing thee!”
Here ceas'd the youth, yet still his speaking eye | Stiff, by tie tainted gale, with open nose, Express'd the sacred triumph of his soul,
Out-stretch'd, and linely sensible, draws full, With conscious virtue, gratitude, and love, Fearful, and cautious, on the latent prey ; Above the vulgar joy divinely rais'd.
As in the sun the circling corey hask Nor waited he reply. Won by the charm
Their varied plumes, and watchful every way, Of goodness irresistible, and all
Though the rough stubble turn the secret eye. In sweet disorder lost, she blush'd consent. Caught in the ineshy snare, in vain they beat The news immediate to her mother brought, Their idle wings, entangled more and more: While, pierc'd with anxious thought, she pin'd away Nor on the surges of the boundless air, The lonely moments for Lavinia's fate;
Though borne triumphant, are they safe ; the gun, Amaz'd, and scarce believing what she heard, Glanc'd just, and sudden, from the fowler's eye, Joy seiz'd her wither'd veins, and one briglit gleam O'ertakes their sounding pinions ; and again, of setting life shone on her evening hours:
Immediate, brings them from the towering wing, Not less enraptur'd than the happy pair ;
Dead to the ground: or drives them wide-dispers'd, Who Nourish'd long in tender bliss, and reard Wounded, and wheeling various, down the wind. A numerous offspring, lovely like themselves, These are not subjects for the peaceful Muse, And good, the grace of all the country round. Nor will she stain with such her spotless song; Defeating oft tie labours of the year,
Then most delighted, when she social sees The sultry south collects a potent blast.
The whole mix'd animal creation round At first, the groves are scarcely seen to stir Alive, and happy. 'Tis not joy to her, Their trembling tops, and a still murinur runs This falsely-cheerful barbarous game of death ; Along the soft-inclining fields of corn.
This rage of pleasure, which the restless youth But as th' aërial tempest fuller swells,
Awakes, impatient, with the gleaming morn; And in one mighty stream, invisible,
When beasts of prey retire, that all night long, Immense, the whole excited atmosphere,
Urg'd by necessity, had rang'd the dark, Impetuous rushes o'er the sounding world : As if their conscious ravage shunn'd the light, Strain'd to the root, the stooping forest pours Ashain'd. Not so the steady tyrant man, A rustling shower of yet untimely leaves,
Who with the thoughtless insolence of power High-beat, the circling mountains eddy in, Inflam'd, beyond the most infuriate wrath From the bare wild, the dissipated storm,
Of the worst monster that e'er roam'd the waste, And send it in a torrent down the vale,
For sport alone pursues the cruel chase, Expos’d, and naked, to its utmost rage,
Amid the beamings of the gentle days. Through all the sea of harvest rolling round, l'obraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage, The billowy plain floats wide; nor can evade, For lunger kindles you, and lawless want; Though pliant to the blast, its seizing force; But lavish fed, in Nature's bounty roll'd, Or whirl'd in air, or into vacant chaft
To joy, at anguish, and delight in blood, Shook waste And sometimes too a burst of rain, Is what your horrid bosoms never knew. Swrpt from the black horizon, broad, descends Poor is the triuinph o'er the timid hare! In one continuous food. Still over head
Scar'd from the corn, and now to some loue stat The mingling tempest weaves its gloom, and still Retir'd: the rushy ten; the ragged furze, The deluge deepens ; till the tields around Stretch'd o'er the stony heath ; the stubble chapt; Lie sunk, and flatted, in the sordid wave.
The thistly lawn, the thick entangled broom ; Sudden, the ditches swell; the meadows swim. Of the same friendly hue, the wither'd fern; Red, from the hills, innumerable streams
The fallow ground laid open to the Sun, Tumultuous roar; and high above its banks Concoctive; and the nodding sandy bank, The river lift; before whose rushingtide,
Hung o'er the mazes of the niountain brook. Herds, flocks, and harvest, cottages, and swains. Vain is her best, precaution; though she sits Roll mingled down ; all that the winds had spard Conceald, with folded ears; unsleeping eyes, In one wild moment ruin'd; the big hopes, By Nature rais'd to take th' horizon in; And well-earn'd treasures of the painful year. And head couch'd close betwixt her hairy fert, Fled to some eminence, the husbandınan
In act to spring away. The scented dew Helpless beholds the miserable wreck
Betrays her carly labyrinth ; and deep, Driving along; his drowning ox at once
In scatter'd sullen openings, far behind, Descending, with his labours scatter'd round, Witb every breere she hears the coming storm. He sees; and instant o'er his shivering thought But nrarer, and more frequent, as it loads Comes Winter unprovided, and a train
The sighing gale, she springs amaz'd, and all Of clamant children dear. Ye masters, then, The savage soul of game is up at once : Be mindful of the rough laborious hand,
The pack full-opening, various; the shrill horn That sinks you soft in elegance and ease;
Resounded from the hills; the neighing steed, Be mindful of those limbs in russct clad
Wild for the chase: and the loud hunter's shout; Whose toil to yours is warınth, and graceful pride; O'er a weak, harmless, flying creature, all And, oh! be mindful of that sparing board, Mix'd in mad tumult, and discordant joy. Which covers yours with luxury profuse,
The stag too, singled from the herd, where long Makes your glass sparkle, and your sense rejoice! He rang'd the branching monarch of the shades, Nor cruelly demand what the deep rains
Before the tempest drives. At first, in speed And all-involving winds have swept away.
He, sprightly, puts his faith; and, rous'd by fear, Here the rude clamour of the sportsman's joy, Gives all his swift aërial soul to flight; The gun fast-thundering, and the winded horn, Against the breeze he darts, that way the more Would tempt the Muse to sing the rural game : To leave the lessening murderous cry behind : How, in his mid-career, the spaniel struck, Deception short; though fleeter than the winds
Blown o'er the keen-air'd mountains by the north, Beneath the smoking surloin, stretch'd immense He bursts the thickets, glances through the glades, From side to side; in which, with desperate knife And plunges deep into the wildest wood;
They deep incision make, and talk the while If slow, yet sure, adhesive to the track
Of England's glory, ne'er to be defac'd Hot-steaming, up behind him come again
While heace they borrow vigour: or amain 'Th'inhuman rout, and from the shady depth Into the pasty plung'd, at intervals, Expel him, circling through his every shift. If stomach kecu can intervals allow, He sweeps the forest oft ; and sobbing sets Roluting all the glories of the chase. The glades, mild opening to the golden day; Then sated Hunger bids his brother Thirst Where, in kind contest, with his butting friends Produce the mighty bowl; the mighty bowl, He wont to struggle, or his loves enjoy.
Swell’d high with fiery juice, steams liberal round Oft in the full-descending flood he tries
A potent gale, delicious as the breath To lose the scent, and lave his burning sides : Of Maja to the love-sick shepherdess, Oft secks the herd; the watchful herd, alarm'd, On violets diffus'd, while soft she hears With selfish care avoid a brother's woe.
Her panting shepherd stealing to her arms. What shall he do? His once so vivid nerves, Nor wanting is the brown October, drawn, So full of buoyant spirit, now no more
Mature and perfect, from his dark retreat Inspire the course, but fainting breathless toil, Of thirty years; and now his honest front Sick, seizes on his heart: he stands at bay; Flames in the light refulgent, not afraid And puts his last weak refuge in despair.
Ev'n with the vineyard's best produce to vie. The big round tears run down his dappled face; To cheat the thirsty moments, Whist a while He groans in anguish; while the growling pack, Walks his dull round, bencath a cloud of smoke, Blood-happy, hang at his fair jutting chest, Wreath'd fragrant from the pipe; or the quick dice, And mark his beauteous checker'd sides with gore. In thunder leaping from the box, awake
Of this enough. But if the sylvan youth, The sounding gammon: while romp-loving miss Whose fervent blood boils into violence,
Is haul'd about, in gallantry robust. Must have the chase; behold, despising light, At last these puling idlenesses laid The rous'd up lion, resolute, and slow,
Aside, frequent and full, the dry divan Advancing full on the protended spear,
Close in firm circle ; and set, ardent, in And coward-band, that circling wheel aloof. For serious drinking. Nor evasion sly, Slunk from the cavern, and the troubled wood, Nor sober shift, is to the puking wretch See the grim wolf; on him his shaggy foe
Indulg'd apart; but earnest, brimming bowls Vindictive fix, and let the ruffian die:
Lave every soul, the table floating round, Or, growling horrid, as the brindled boar
And pavement, faithless to the fuddled foot. Grins fell destruction, to the monster's heart Thus as they swiin in mutual swill, the talk, Let the dart lighten from the nervous arm.
Vociferons at once from twenty tongues, shounds, These Britain knows not; give, ye Britons, then Reels fast from theme to theme; froin horses, Your sportive fury, pityless, to pour
To church or mistress, politics or ghost,
In endless mazes, intricate, perplex’d.
Th' impatient catch bursts from the joyons hcart;
Mix in the music of the day again. (hounds And as you ride the torrent, to the banks
As when the tempest, that has vex'd the deep Your triumph sound sonorous, running round, The dark night long, with fainter murmurs falls : From rock to rock, in circling echoes tost;
So gradual sinks their mirth. Their feeble tongues Then scale the mountains to their woody tops; Unable to take up the cumbrous word, Rush down the dangerous steep; and o'er the lawn, Lie quite dissolvd. Before their mandlin eyes, In fancy swallowing up the space between,
Seen dim, and blue, the double tapers dance, Pour all your speed into the rapid game,
Like the Sun wading through the misty sky. For happy he! who tops the wheeling chase; Then sliding soft, they drop. Confus'd above, Has every maze evolv'd, and every guile
Glasses and bottles, pipes and gazetteers, Disclos'd; who knows the merits of the pack; As it the table er'n itself was drunk, Who saw the villain seiz'd, and dying hard, Lie a wet broken scene; and wide, below, Without complaint, though by an hundred mouths heap'd the social slaughter; where astride Relentless torn: O glorious he, beyond
The lubber power in filthy triumph sits, Jlis daring peers! when the retreating horn Sluunberous, inclining still from side to side, Calls them to ghostly halls of grey renown, And steeps them drench'd in potent sleep till morp. With woodland honours grac'd; the fox's fur, Perhaps some doctor, of tremendous paunch, Depending decent from the roof; and spread Awful and decp, a black abyss of drink, Round the drear walls, with antic figures fierce, Ont-lives them all; and froin his bury'd flock The stag's large front: he then is loudest heard, Retiring, full of rumination sad, When the night staggers with severer toils,
Laments the weakness of these latter times. With feats Thessalian Centaurs never knew,
But if the rougher sex by this fierce sport And their repeated wonders shake the dome. Is hurried wild, let not such horrid joy
But first the fuel'd chimney blazes wide; E'er stain the bosom of the British fair. The tankards foam; and the strong table groans Far be the spirit of the chase from them'..