And eyes intent upon the scanty herb

In vain thy creatures testify of thee,
It yields them; or, recumbent on it's brow, Till thou proclaim thyself. Theirs is indeed
Ruminate heedless of the scene outspread

A teaching voice ; but 't is the praise of thine, Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away

That whom it teaches it makes prompt to learn, From inland regions to the distant main.

And with the boon gives talents for it's use.
Man views it, and admires; but rests content Till thou art heard, imaginations vain
With what he views. The landscape has his praise, Possess the heart, and fables false as Hell;
But not it's author. Unconcern'd who form'd Yet deem'd oracular, lure down to death
The Paradise he sees, he finds it such,

The uninform'd and heedless souls of men.
And, such well pleas'd to find it, asks no more. We give to chance, blind chance, ourselves as blind,
Not so the mind, that has been touch'd from Heav'n, The glory of thy work; which yet appears
And in the school of sacred wisdom taught, Perfect and unimpeachable of blame,
To read his wonders, in whose thought the World, Challenging human scrutiny, and prov'd
Fair as it is, existed ere it was.

Then skilful most when most severely judg'd. Not for it's own sake merely, but for his

But chance is not; or is not where thou reign'st: Much more, who fashion'd it, he gives it praise ; Thy providence forbids that fickle pow's Praise that froin Earth resulting, as it ought, (If pow'r she be, that works but to confound) To Earth's acknowledg'd sovereign finds at once To mix her wild vagaries with thy laws. It's only just proprietor in Him.

Yet thus we dote, refusing while we can The soul that sees him or receives sublim'd

Instruction, and inventing to ourselves New faculties, or learns at least t' einploy

Gods such as guilt makes welcome; gods that sleer More worthily the pow'rs she own'd before, Or disregard our follies, or that sit Discerns in all things what, with stupid gaze

Amus'd spectators of this bustling stage. Of ignorance, till then she overlook’d,

Thee we reject, unable to abide A ray of heavenly light, gilding all forms

Thy purity, till pure as thou art pure, Terrestrial in the vast and the minute;

Made such by thee, we love thee for that cause, The unambiguous footsteps of the God,

For which we shunn'd and hated thee before. Who gives it's lustre to an insect's wing,

Then we are free. Then liberty, like day, And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds. Breaks on the soul, and by a flash from Hear'n Much conversant with Heav'n, she often holds Fires all the faculties with glorious joy. With those fair ministers of light to man,

A voice is heard, that mortal ears hear not, That fill the skies nightly with silent pomp,

Till thou hast touch'd them ; 't is the voice of song Sweet conference. Inquires what strains were they A loud Hosanna sent from all thy works; With which Heav'n rang, when ev'ry star in haste

Which he that hears it with a shout repeats To gratulate the new-created Earth,

And adds his rapture to the gen’ral praisk.
Sent forth a voice, and all the sons of God

In that blest moment Nature, throwing wide
Shouted for joy. — “ Tell me, ye shining hosts, Her veil opaque, discloses with a smile
That navigate a sea that knows no storms,

The author of her beauties, who, retir'd
Beneath a vault unsullied with a cloud,

Behind his own creation, works unseen If from your elevation, whence ye view

By the impure, and hears his pow'r denied. Distinctly scenes invisible to man,

Thou art the source and centre of all minds, And systems, of whose birth no tidings yet Their only point of rest, eternal Word! Have reach'd this nether world, ye spy a race From thee departing they are lost, and more Favour'd as ours; transgressors from the womb, At random without honour, hope, or peace. And hasting to a grave, yet doom'd to rise,

From thee is all, that soothes the life of man, And to possess a brighter Heav'n than yours? His high endeavour, and his glad success, As one, who, long detain'd on foreign shores, His strength to suffer, and his will to serve. Pants to return, and when he sees afar

But 0 thou bounteous giver of all good, His country's weather-bleach'd and batter'd rocks, Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown! From the green wave emerging, darts an eye Give what thou canst, without thee we are poor; Radiant with joy towards the happy land;

And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.
So I with animated hopes behold,
And many an aching wish, your beamy fires,
That show like beacons in the blue abyss,

Book VI.
Ordain'd to guide th' cmbodied spirit home
From toilsome life to never-ending rest.

THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. Love kindles as I

gaze.

I feel desires, That give assurance of their own success,

Argument. And that, infus'd from Heav'n, must thither tend.” Bells at a distance. Their effect. A fine noon in

So reads he nature, whom the lamp of truth winter. A sheltered walk. Meditation better Illuminates. Thy lamp, mysterious Word!

than books. Our familiarity with the course of Which whoso sees no longer wanders lost,

nature makes it appear less wonderful than it is. With intellects bemaz'd in endless doubt,

The transformation that Spring effects in a slirub But runs the road of wisdom. Thou hast built bery described. A mistake concerning the course With means, that were not till by thee employ'd, of nature corrected. God maintains it by an Worlds, that had never been hadst thou in strength unremitted act. The amusements fashionable at Been less, or less benevolent than strong.

this hour of the day reproved. Animals happy, They are thy witnesses, who speak thy pow'r

a delightful sight. Origin of cruelty to animals And goodness infinite, but speak in ears,

That it is a great crime proved from Scripture. That hear not, or receive not their report.

That proof illustrated by a tale. A line drawn

on.

between the lawful and unlawful destruction of And where the woods fence off the northern blast, them. Their good and useful properties insisted | The season smiles, resigning all it's rage,

Apology for the encomiums bestowed by i And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue the author on animals. Instances of man's ex- Without a cloud, and white without a speck travagant praise of man. The groans, of the Tlie dazzling splendour of the scene below. creaticn shall have an end. A view taken of the Again the harmony comes o'er the vale; restoration of all things. An invocation and an And through the trees I view th' embattled tow'r, invitation of Him, who shall bring it to pass. Whence all the music. I again perceive The retired man vindicated from the charge of The soothing influence of the wafted strains, uselessness. Conclusion.

And settle in soft musings as I tread

The walk, still verdant, under oaks and elms,
There is in souls a sympathy with sounds, Whose outspread branches over-arch the glade.
And as the mind is piteli’d the car is pleas'd The roof, though moveable through all it's length
With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave; As the wind sways it, has yet well suflic'd,
Some chord in unison with what we hear

And, intercepting in their silent fall
Is touchi'd within us, and the heart replies. The frequent flakes, has kept a path for me.
How soft the music of those village bells,

No noise is here, or none that hinders thought. Falling at intervals upon the car

The red-brcast warbles still, but is content In cadence sweet, now dying all away,

With slender notes, and more than half suppress'd : Now pealing loud again, and louder still,

Pleas'd with his solitude, and fitting light Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on!

Froin spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes With casy force it opens all the cells

From many a twig the pendant drops of ice,
Where Niem'ry slept. Wherever I have heard That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below.
A kindred melody, the scene recurs,

Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft,
And with it all it's pleasures and it's pains,

Charms more than silence. Meditation here Such comprehensive views the spirit takes,

May think down hours to moments. Here the heart That in a few short moments I retrace

May give a useful lesson to the head, (As in a map the voyager his course)

And Learning wiser grow without his books. The windings of my way through many years. Knowledge and Wisdom, far from being one, Short as in retrospect the journey seems, ,

Have oft-times no connection. Knowledge dwells It seem'd not always short; the rugged path, In heads replete with thoughts of other men ; And prospect oft so dreary and forlorn,

Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. Mov'd many a sigh at it's disheart'ning length. Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, Yet feeling present evils, while the past

The mere materials with which Wisdom builds, Faintly impress the mind, or not at all,

Till smooth'd, and squar'd, and fitted to it's place, How readily we wishi time spent revok'd,

Does but encumber whom it seems t'enrich. That we might try the ground again, where once Knowledge is proud that he has learn'd so much ; (Through inexperience, as we now perceive)

Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.
We niiss'd that liappiness we might have found ! Books are not seldom talismans and spells,
Sorne friend is gone, perhaps his son's best friend, By which the magic art of shrewder wits
A father, whose authority, in show

Holds an unthinking multitude enthrall’d.
When most severe, and must'ring all it's force, Some to the fascination of a name
Was but the graver countenance of love;

Surrender judgment hood-wink'd. Some the style
Whose favour, like the clouds of Spring, might low'r, Infatuates, and through labyrinths and wilds
And utter now and then an aweful voice,

Of errour leads them, by a tune entranc'd. But iad a blessing in it's darkest frown,

While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear Threat'ning at once and nourishing the plant The insupportable fatigue of thought ; We lov'd, but not enough, the gentle hand, And swallowing therefore without pause or choice That rear'd us. At a thoughtless age, allur'd The total grist unsifted, husks and all. By ev'ry gilded folly, we renounc'd

But trees and rivulets, whose rapid course His shelt'ring side, and wilfully forewent

Defies the check of Winter, haunts of deer, That converse, which we now in vain regret. And sheep-walks populous with bleating lainbs, How gladly would the man recall to life

And lanes, in which the primrose ere her time (root, The boy's neglected sire! a mother too,

Peeps through the muss, that clothes the hawthorn That softer friend, perhaps more gladly still, Deceive no student. Wisdom there, and truth, Might he demand them at the gates of death. Not shy, as in the world, and to be won Sorrow has, since they went, subdu'd and tam'd By slow solicitation, seize at once The playful humour; he could now endure, The roving thought, and fix it on themselves. (Himself growu sober in the vale of tears,)

What prodigies can pow'r divine perform And feel a parent's presence no restraint.

More grand than it produces year by year,
But not to understand a treasure's worth,

And all in sight of inattentive man?
Till time has stolen away the slighted good, Familiar with the effect we slight the cause,
Is cause of half the poverty we feel,

And in the constancy of nature's course,
And makes the world the wilderness it is.

And regular return of genial months, The few that pray at all pray oft amiss,

And renovation of a faded world, And, seeking grace t’ improve the prize they hold, See nought to wonder at. Should God again, Would urge a wiser suit than asking more. As once in Gibeon, interrupt the race

The night was Winter in his roughest mood; Of the undeviating and punctual sun, The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon How would the world admire ! but speaks it less Upon the southern side of the slant hills,

An agency divine, to make him know

His moment when to sink and when to rise,

Some say, that in the origin of things, Age after age, than to arrest his course?

When all creation started into birth, All we behold is miracle ; but, seen

The infant elements receiv'd a law, So duly, all is miracle in vain.

From which they swerve not since. That under force Where now the vital energy, that mov'd,

Of that controlling ordinance they more, While Summer was, the pure and subtle lymph And need not his immediate hand, who first Through th' imperceptible meand'ring veins Prescrib'd their course, to regulate it now. Of leaf and flow'r? It sleeps ; and th' icy touch Thus dream they, and contrive to save a God Of unprolific Winter has impress'd

Th' incumbrance of his own concerns, and spare A cold stagnation on th' intestine tide.

The great Artificer of all that mores But let the months go round, a few short months, The stress of a continual act, the pain And all shall be restor'd. These naked shoots, Of unremitted vigilance and care, Barren as lances, among which the wind

As too laborious and severe a task. Makes wintry music, sighing as it goes,

So man, the moth, is not afraid, it seems, Shall put their graceful foliage on again,

To span omnipotence, and measure might, And more aspiring, and with ampler spread, [lost. | That knows no measure, by the scanty rule Shall boast new charms, and more than they have And standard of his own, that is to-day, Then each, in it's peculiar honours clad,

And is not ere to-morrow's sun go down. Shall publish even to the distant eye

But how should matter occupy a charge, It's family and tribe. Laburnum, rich

Dull as it is, and satisfy a law In streaming gold; syringa, iv'ry pure;

So vast in it's demands, unless impellid The scentless and the scented rose; this red, To ceaseless service by a ceaseless force, And of an humbler growth, the other * tall, And under pressure of some conscious cause? And throwing up into the darkest gloom

The Lord of all, himself through all diffusid, Of neighb'ring cypress, or more sable yew,

Sustains, and is the life of all that lives. Her silver globes, light as the foamy surf,

Nature is but a name for an effect, That the wind severs from the broken wave; Whose cause is God. He feeds the secret fire The lilac, various in array, now white,

By which the mighty process is maintain’d, Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set Who sleeps not, is not weary; in whose sight With purple spikes pyramidal, as if

Slow-circling ages are as transient days; Studious of ornament, yet unresolv'd

Whose work is without labour; whose design Which hue she most approv'd, she chose them all; No flaw deforms, no difficulty thwarts; Copious of flow'rs the woodbine, pale and wan, And whose beneficence no charge exhausts. But well compensating her sickly looks

Him blind antiquity profan'd, not serv'd, With never-cloying odours, early and late ; With self-taught rites, and under various names, Hypericum, all bloom, so thick a swarm

Female and male, Pomona, Pales, Pan, Of flow'rs, like flies clothing her slender rods, And Flora, and Vertumnus; peopling Earth That scarce a leaf appears; mezereon, too,

With tutelary goddesses and gods, Though leafless, well attir'd, and thick beset That were not; and commending as they would With blushing wreaths, investing ev'ry spray; To each some province, garden, field, or grove, Althæa with the purple eye; the broom

But all are under one. One spirit — His, Yellow and bright, as bullion unalloy'd,

Who wore the platted thorns with bleeding brows, Her blossoms; and luxuriant above all

Rules universal nature. Not a flow'r The jasmine, throwing wide her elegant sweets, But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain, The deep dark green of whose unvarnish'd leaf Of his unrivall'd pencil. He inspires Makes more conspicuous, and illumines more Their balmy odours, and imparts their hues The bright profusion of her scatter'd stars. And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes, These have been, and these shall be in their day; In grains as countless as the sea-side sands, And all this uniform uncolour'd scene

The forms, with which he sprinkles all the Earth. Shall be dismantled of it's fleecy load,

Happy who walks with him! whom what he finds And flush into variety again.

Of flavour or of scent in fruit or flow'r, From dearth to plenty, and from death to life, Or what he views of beautiful or grand Is Nature's progress when she lectures man In nature, from the broad majestic oak In heav'nly truth ; evincing as she makes

To the green blade, that twinkles in the sun, The grand transition, that there lives and works Prompts with remembrance of a present God. A soul in all things, and that soul is God.

His presence, who made all so fair, perceird The beauties of the wilderness are his,

Makes all still fairer. As with him po scene That makes so gay the solitary place,

Is dreary, so with him all seasons please. Where no eye sees them. And the fairer forms, Though winter had been none, had man been true, That cultivation glories in, are his.

And Earth be punish'd for it's tenants' sake, He sets the bright procession on it's way,

Yet not in vengeance; as this smiling sky, And marshals all the order of the year ;

So soon succeeding such an angry night, He marks the bounds, which Winter may not pass, And these dissolving snows, and this clear strean And blunts his pointed fury; in it's case,

Recov'ring fast it's liquid music, prove. Russet and rude, folds up the tender germ,

Who then, that has a mind well strung and tun'd Uninjur'd, with inimitable art;

To contemplation, and within his reach And ere one flow'ry season fades and dies,

A scene so friendly to his fav'rite task, Designs the blooming wonders of the next. Would waste attention at the chequer'd board,

His host of wooden warriors to and fro • The Guelder-rose.

Marching and countermarching, with an eye

As fix'd as inarble, with a forehead ridg'd Their efforts, yet resolv'd with one consent,
And furrow'd into storms, and with a hand To give such act and utt'rance as they may
Trembling, as if eternity were hung

To ecstacy, too big to be suppress'd.
In balance on his conduct of a pin?

These, and a thousand images of bliss, Nor envies he aught inore their idle sport,

With which kind Nature graces ev'ry scene, Who pant with application misapplied

Where cruel man defeats not her design, To trivial toys, and, pushing iv'ry balls

Impart to the benevolent, who wish Across a velvet level, feel a joy

All that are capable of pleasure pleas'd, Akin to rapture, when the bauble finds

A far superior happiness to theirs, It's destin'd goal, of difficult access.

The comfort of a reasonable joy. Nor deems he wiser him, who gives his noon

Man scarce had ris'n, obedient to his call, To Miss, the mercer's plague, from shop to shop

Who form’d him from the dust, his future grave, Wand'ring and litt'ring with unfolded silks When he was crown'd as never king was since. The polish'd counter, and approving none,

God set the diadem upon his head, Or promising with smiles to call again.

And angel choirs attended. Wond'ring stood Nor him, who by his vanity seduc'd,

The new-made monarch, while before him pass'd, And sooth'd into a dream that he discerns

All happy, and all perfect in their kind, The diff'rence of a Guido from a daub,

The creatures, summon'd from their various haunts, Frequents the crowded auction : station'd there To see their soy'reign, and confess his sway. As duly as the Langford of the show,

Vast was his empire, absolute his pow'r, With glass at eye, and catalogue in hand,

Or bounded only by a law, whose force And tongue accomplish'd in the fulsome cant 'T was his sublimest privilege to feel And pedantry, that coxcombs learn with ease; And own, the law of universal love. Oft as the price-deciding hammer falls,

He rul'd with meekness, they obey'd with joy ; He notes it in his book, then raps his box,

No cruel purpose lurk'd within his heart, Swears 't is a bargain, rails at his hard fate,

And no distrust of his intent in theirs. That he has let it pass but never bids.

So Eden was a scene of harmless sport, Here unmolested, through whatever sign Where kindness on his part, who rul'd the whole, The Sun proceeds, I wander. Neither mist, Begat a tranquil confidence in all, Nor freezing sky nor sultry, checking me,

And fear as yet was not, nor cause for fear. Nor stranger intermeddling with my joy.

But sin marr'd all; and the revolt of man, Evin in the spring and play-time of the year, That source of evils not exhausted yet, That calls th' unwonted villager abroad

Was punish'd with revolt of his from him. With all her little ones, a sportive train,

Garden of God, how terrible the change To gather kingcups in the yellow mead,

Thy groves and lawns then witness'd ! Ev'ry heart, And prink their hair with daisies, or to pick Each animal, of ev'ry name, conceiv'd A cheap but wholesome sallad from the brook, A jealousy and an instinctive fear, These shades are all my own. The tim'rous hare, And, conscious of some danger, either Aed Grown so familiar with her frequent guest, Precipitate the loath'd abode of man, Scarce shuns me; and the stockdove unalarm'd Or growl'd defiance in such angry sort, Sits cooing in the pine-tree, nor suspends

As taught him too to tremble in his turn. His long love-ditty for my near approach.

Thus harmony and family accord
Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm, Were driv'n from Paradise ; and in that hour
That age or injury has hollow'd deep,

The seeds of cruelty, that since have swellid
Where, on his bed of wool and matted leaves, To such gigantic and enormous growth,
He has outslept the Winter, ventures forth,

Were sown in human nature's fruitful soil.
To frisk awhile, and bask in the warm sun, Hence date the persecution and the pain,
The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play: That man inflicts on all inferior kinds,
He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird, (brush, Regardless of their plaints. To make him sport,
Ascends the neighb'ring beech; there whisks his To gratify the phrenzy of his wrath,
And perks his ears, and stamps, and cries aloud, Or his base gluttony, are causes good
With all the prettiness of feign'd alarm,

And just in his account, why bird and beast And anger insignificantly fierce.

Should suffer torture, and the streams be dyed The heart is hard in nature, and unfit

With blood of their inhabitants impal’d. For human fellowship, as being void

Earth groans beneath the burden of a war
Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike

Wag'd with defenceless innocence, while he,
To love and friendship both, that is not pleas'd Not satisfied to prey on all around,
With sight of animals enjoying life,

Adds tenfold bitterness of death by pangs
Nor feels their happiness augment his own. Needless, and first torments ere he devours.
The bounding fawn, that darts across the glade Now happiest they, that occupy the scenes
When none pursues, through mere delight of heart, The most remote from his abhorr'd resort,
And spirits buoyant with excess of glee;

Whom once, as delegate of God on Earth, The horse as wanton, and almost as fleet,

They fear'd, and as his perfect image lov'd. That skims the spacious meadow at full speed, The wilderness is theirs, with all it's caves, Then stops, and snorts, and, throwing high his heels, It's hollow glens, it's thickets, and it's plains, Starts to the voluntary race again ;

Unvisited by man. There they are free, The very kine, that gambol at high noon,

And howl and roar as likes them, uncontrollid; The total herd receiving first from one,

Nor ask his leave to slumber or to play. That leads the dance, a summons to be gay, Woe to the tyrant, if he dare intrude Though wild their strange vagaries, and uncouth Within the confines of their wild domain :

The lion tells him-"I am monarch here". | That oft the beast has seem'd to judge the man.
And, if he spare him, spares him on the terms An ancient, not a legendary tale,
Of royal mercy, and through gen'rous scorn, By one of sound intelligence rehears’d,
To rend a victim trembling at his foot.

(If such who plead for Providence inay seem In measure, as by force of instinct drawn,

În modern eyes,) shall make the doctrine clear. Or by necessity constrain'd, they live

Where England, stretch'd towards the setting Sur, Dependent upon man ; those in his fields,

Narrow and iong, o'erlooks the western wave, These at his crib, and some beneath his roof. Dwelt young Misagathus; a scorner he They prove too often at how dear a rate

Of God and goodness, atheist in ostent, He sells protection. — Witness at his foot

Vicious in act, in temper savage-fierce. The spaniel, dying for some venial fault

He journey'd ; and his chance was as lie went Under dissection of the knotted scourge ;

To join a trav'ller, of far different note, Witness the patient ox, with stripes and yells Evander, fam'd for piety, for years Driv'n to the slaughter, goauled, as he runs, Deserving honour, but for wisdom more. To madness; while the savage at his heels

Fame liad not left the venerable man Laughs at the frantic suff'rer's fury, spent

A stranger to the manners of the youth, Upon the guiltless passenger o'erthrown.

Whose face, too, was familiar to his view. He too is witness, noblest of the train

Their way was on the margin of the land, That wait on man, the flight-performing horse ; O'er the green summit of the rocks, whose base With unsuspecting readiness he takes

Beats back the roaring surge, scarce heard so high His murd'rer on his back, and, push'd all day The charity, that warm’d his licart, was mov'd With bleeding sides and flanks, that heave for life, At sight of the man-monster. With a smile To the far distant goal, arrives and dies.

Gentle, and affable, and full of grace, So little mercy shows who needs so much!

As fearful of offending whom he wish'd Does law, so jealous in the cause of man,

Much to persuade, he plied his ear with truths Denounce no doom on the delinquent ? None. Not harshly thunder'd forth, or rudely pressid, He lives, and o'er his brimming beaker boasts But, like his purpose, gracious, kind, and sweet. (As if barbarity were high desert)

“ And dost thou dream," th' impenetrable man Th' inglorious feat, and clamorous in praise Exclaim'd, “ that me the lullabies of age, Of the poor brute, seems wisely to suppose And fantasies of dotards such as thou, The honours of his matchless horse his own.

Can cheat, or move a momeni's fear in me? But many a crime, deem'd innocent on Earth, Mark now the proof I give thee, that the brave Is register'd in Heav'n; and these no doubt Need no such aids, as superstitioa lends, Have each their record, with a curse annex'd. To steel their hearts against the dread of death." Man may dismiss compassion from his heart, He spoke, and to the precipice at hand But God will never. When he charg'd the Jew! Pusli'd with a madman's fury. Fancy shrinks, T'assist his foe's down-fallen beast to rise ;

And the blood tlırills and curdles, at the thought And when the bush-exploring boy, that seiz'd Of such a gulf as he design'd his grave. The young, to let the parent bird go free;

But, though the felon on his back could dare Prov'd he not plainly, that his meaner works The dreadful leap, more rational, his steed Are yet his care, and have an int'rest all,

Declin’d the death, and wheeling swiftly round, All, in the universal Father's love ?

Or e'er his hoof bad press'd the crumbling verge, On Noah, and in him on all mankind,

Baffled his rider, sav'd against his will. The charter was conferr'd, by which we hold The phrenzy of the brain may be redress'd The flesh of animals in fee, and claim

By med'eine well applied, but without grace O'er all we feed on pow'r of life and death. The heart's insanity admits no cure. But read the instrument, and mark it well : Enray'd the more, by what might have reformid Th' oppression of a tyrannous control

His horrible intent, again he sought Can find no warrant there. Feed then, and yield Destruction, with a zeal to be destroy'd, Thanks for thy food. Carnivorous, through sin, With sounding whip, and rowels dyed in blood Feed on the slain, but spare the living brute ! But still in vain. The Providence, that meant The Governor of all, himself to all

A longer date to the far nobler beast, So bountiful, in whose attentive ear

Spar'd yet again th' ignoble for his sake. The unfledg'd raven, and the lion's whelp,

And now, his prowess prov'd, and his sincere Plead not in vain for pity on the pangs

Incurable obduracy evinc'd, Of hunger unassuag'd, has interpos'd,

His rage grew cool; and pleas'd, perhaps, t' lave Not seldom, his avenging arm, to smite

So cheaply the renown of that attempt, Th' injurious trampler upon Nature's law,

With looks of some complacence he resum'd That claims forbearance even for a brute.

His road, deriding much the blank amaze He hates the hardness of a Balaam's heart; Of good Evander, still where he was left And, prophet as he was, he might not strike Fix'd motionless, and petrified with dread. The blameless animal, without rebuke,

So on they far'd. Discourse on other themes On which he rode. Her opportune offence Ensuing seem'd t'obliterate the past; Sav'd him, or th' unrelenting seer had died. And tamer far for so much fury shown, He sees that human equity is slack

(As is the course of rash and fiery men,) To interfere, though in so just a cause :

The rude companion smild, as if transforin'd. And makes the task his own. Inspiring dumb But 't was a transient calm. A storin was near, And helpless victims with a sense so keen

An unsuspected storm. His hour was coine, of inj'ry, with such knowledge of their strength, Thic impious challenger of Pow'r divine {wrath, And such sagacity to take revenge,

W!'as now to learn, that Heav'n, though slow to

(cara'd