Then while the Gardens take my Sight,
With all the Colours of Delight;
While filver Waters glide along,
To please my Ear, and court my Song:
I'll lift my Voice, and tune my String,
And Thee, great Source of Nature, fing.
The Sun that walks his airy Way,
To light the World, and give the Day ;
The Moon that shines with borrow'd Light;
The Stars that gild the gloomy Night;
The Seas that roll unnumber'd Waves;
The Wood that spreads its shady Leaves;
The Field whofe Ears conceal the Grain,
The yellow Treasure of the Plain;
All of these, and all I see,
Shou'd be fung, and fung by me:
They speak their Maker as they can,
But want and ask the Tongue of Man.
Go fearch among your idle Dreams,
Your bufy or your vain Extreams ;
And find a Life of equal Blifs,
Or own the next begun in This.
AR in a Wild, unknown to publick View,
From Youth to Age a rev'rend Hermit
The Mofs his Bed, the Cave his humble Cell,
His Food the Fruits, his Drink the chrystal Well:
Remote from Man, with God he pass'd the Days,
Pray'r all his Bus'ness, all his Pleasure Praise.
A Life fo facred, fuch ferene Repofe, Seem'd Heav'n itself, 'till one Suggestion rofe; That Vice fhou'd triumph, Virtue Vice obey, This fprung fome Doubt of Providence's Sway:
His Hopes no more a certain Prospect boast,
And all the Tenour of his Soul is loft:
So when a smooth Expanse receives imprest
Calm Nature's Image on its wat'ry Breast,
Down bend the Banks, the Trees depending grow,
And Skies beneath with anfw'ring Colours glow:
But if a Stone the gentle Sea divide,
Swift ruffling Circles curl on ev'ry side,
And glimmering Fragments of a broken Sun,
Banks, Trees, and Skies, in thick Disorder run.
To clear this Doubt, to know the World by
To find if Books, or Swains, report it right;
(For yet by Swains alone the World he knew,
Whose Feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly Dew)
He quits his Cell; the Pilgrim-Staff he bore,
And fix'd the Scallop in his Hat before;
Then with the Sun a rifing Journey went,
Sedate to think, and watching each Event,
The Morn was wafted in the pathless Grass,
And long and lonesome was the Wild to pass;
But when the Southern Sun had warm'd the Day,
A Youth came posting o'er a croffing Way;
His Rayment decent, his Complexion fair,
And soft in graceful Ringlets wav'd his Hair.
Then near approaching, Father, Hail! he cry'd ;
And Hail, my Son, the rev'rend Sire reply'd;
Words follow'd Words, from Question Answer
flow'd,
And Talk of various kind deceiv'd the Road;
'Till each with other pleas'd, and loth to part,
While in their Age they differ, joyn in Heart:
Thus ftands an aged Elm in Ivy bound,
Thus youthful Ivy clafps an Elm around.
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