The book of poetry [ed. by B.G. Johns].

Open wide the lofty door,
Seek her on the marble floor :
In vain you search, she is not there ;
In vain ye search the domes of care!
Grass and flow'rs Quiet treads
On the meads and mountain-heads,
Along with Pleasure close allied,
Ever by each other's side ;
And often by the murmuring rill
Hears the thrush, while all is still
Within the groves of Grongar Hill.

DYER.

The Blind Boy.

O say, what is that thing call’d Light,

Which I must ne'er enjoy?
What are the blessings of the sight?

O tell your poor blind boy!

You talk of wond’rous things you see;
You
say

the sun shines bright;
I feel him warm, but how can he

Or make it day or night?

My day or night myself I make,

Whene'er I sleep or play ;
And could I ever keep awake,

With me 'twere always day.

72

The Poor Blind Man of Salisbury Cathedral

The Village-Bells

The Old Beggar

The Commonwealth of Bees

The House of God

To the Rainbow

Adversity

Vanity of Human Greatness

The Address of Adam and Eve to the Deity

The Miseries of Life

Solitude

A Description.

The Importance of Trifles

Female Friendship

Satan's Address to the Sun

Burial of Sir John Moore

Taste

The Communion of Saints in the Church

A guilty Conscience.-Clarence's Dream

The Vanity of Human Wishes

Paraphrase on Psalm xxiii.

131

Mickle 134

An English Landscape. Ever charming, ever new, When will the landscape tire the view ! The fountain's fall, the river's flow, The woody valleys warm and low, The windy summit wild and high, Roughly rushing on the sky; The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tow'r, The naked rock, the shady bow'r ; The town and village, dome and farm,Each give each a double charm, As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm.

See on the mountain's southern side, Where the prospect opens wide, Where the evening gilds the tide, How close and small the hedges lie! What streaks of meadows cross the eye!

B

A step methinks may pass the stream,
So little distant dangers seem ;
So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd through hope's deluding glass :
As
yon

summits soft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,
Which to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear ;
Still we tread the same coarse way, -
The present's still a cloudy day.

O may I with myself agree,
And never covet what I see!
Content me with an humble shade,
My passions tam’d, my wishes laid !
For while our wishes wildly roll,
We banish quiet from the soul :
'Tis thus the busy beat the air,
And misers gather wealth and care.

Now, ev'n now, my joy runs high,
As on the mountain-turf I lie;
While the wanton zephyr sings,
And in the vale perfumes his wings ;
While the waters murmur deep,
While the shepherd charms his sheep,
While the birds unbounded fly,
And with music fill the sky,
Now, even now, my joys run high.

Be full, ye courts; be great who will ; Search for Peace with all your skill ;

Open wide the lofty door,
Seek her on the marble floor :
In vain you search, she is not there ;
In vain ye search the domes of care!
Grass and flow'rs Quiet treads
On the meads and mountain-heads,
Along with Pleasure close allied,
Ever by each other's side ;
And often by the murmuring rill
Hears the thrush, while all is still
Within the groves of Grongar Hill.

DYER.

The Blind Boy.

O SAY, what is that thing call’d Light,

Which I must ne'er enjoy ?
What are the blessings of the sight?

O tell your poor blind boy!

You talk of wond'rous things you see;
You
say

the sun shines bright; I feel him warm, but how can he

Or make it day or night?

My day or night myself I make,

Whene'er I sleep or play; And could I ever keep awake,

With me 'twere always day.

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