'Tis by thy secret, strong, attractive force, As with a chain indissoluble bound, Thy system rolls entire: from the far bourne Of utmost Saturn, wheeling wide his round Of thirty years, to Mercury, whose disk Can scarce be caught by philosophic eye, Lost in the near effulgence of thy blaze.
Informer of the planetary train! Without whose quickening glance their cumbrous
Were brute unlovely mass, inert and dead, And not, as now, the green abodes of life! How many forms of being wait on thee! Inhaling spirit; from the unfetter'd mind, By thee sublimed, down to the daily race, The mixing myriads of thy setting beam. The vegetable world is also thine, Parent of Seasons? who the pomp precede That waits thy throne, as through thy vast domain, Annual, along the bright ecliptic road, In world-rejoicing state, it moves sublime. Meantime, the expecting nations, circled gay With all the various tribes of foodful earth,' Implore thy bounty, or send grateful up
A common hymn: while, round thy beaming car, High-seen, the Seasons lead, in sprightly dance Harmonious knit, the rosy-fingered Hours, The Zephyrs floating loose, the timely Rains, Of bloom ethereal the light-footed Dews, And softened into joy the surly Storms. These, in successive turn, with lavish hand, Shower every beauty, every fragrance shower, Herbs, flowers, and fruits; and, kindling at thy touch,
From land to land is flush'd the vernal year. Nor to the surface of enliven'd earth, Graceful with hills and dales, and leafy woods, Her liberal tresses, is thy force confined: But, to the bowel'd cavern, darting deep, The mineral kinds confess thy mighty power. Effulgent, hence the veiny marble shines; Hence Labour draws his tools; hence burnish'd War
Gleams on the day; the nobler works of Peace Hence bless mankind, and generous Commerce binds
The round of nations in a golden chain.
The unfruitful rock itself, impregn'd by thee, In dark retirement forms the lucid stone. The lively diamond drinks thy purest rays, Collected light, compact; that polish'd bright, And all its native lustre let abroad, Dares, as it sparkles on the fair one's breast, With vain ambition emulate her eyes. At thee the ruby lights its deepening glow, And with a waving radiance inward flames. From thee, the sapphire, solid ether, takes Its hue cerulean; and, of evening tinct, The purple-streaming amethyst is thine.
With thy own smile the yellow topaz burns. Nor deeper verdure dyes the robe of Spring, When first she gives it to the southern gale, Than the green emerald shows. But, all combined, Thick through the whitening opal play thy beams; Or, flying several from its surface, form A trembling variance of revolving hues, As the site varies in the gazer's hand.
The very dead creation, from thy touch, Assumes a mimic life. By thee refined, In brighter mazes the relucent stream Plays o'er the mead. The precipice abrupt, Projecting horror on the blacken'd flood, Softens at thy return. The desert joys, Wildly, through all his melancholy bounds. Rude ruins glitter; and the briny deep, Seen from some pointed promontory's top, Far to the blue horizon's utmost verge, Restless, reflects a floating gleam. But this, And all the much-transported Muse can sing, Are to thy beauty, dignity, and use, Unequal far; great delegated source Of light, and life, and grace, and joy below! How shall I then attempt to sing of HIM! Who, Light Himself, in uncreated light Invested deep, dwells awfully retired From mortal eye, or angel's purer ken; Whose single smile has, from the first of time, Fill'd, overflowing, all those lamps of Heaven, That beam for ever through the boundless sky: But, should he hide his face, the astonish'd sun, And all the extinguish'd stars, would loosening reel
Wide from their spheres, and Chaos come again.
And yet was every faltering tongue of Man, ALMIGHTY FATHER! silent in thy praise; Thy works themselves would raise a general voice, E'en in the depth of solitary woods By human foot untrod; proclaim thy power And to the choir celestial THEE resound, The eternal cause, support, and end of all!
To me be Nature's volume broad display'd; And to peruse its all instructing page, Or, haply catching inspiration thence, Some easy passage, raptured, to translate My sole delight; as through the falling glooms Pensive I stray, or with the rising dawn On Fancy's eagle-wing excursive soar.
Now, flaming up the heavens, the potent sun Melts into limpid air the high-raised clouds, And morning fogs, that hover'd round the hills In party-colour'd bands; till wide unveil'd The face of Nature shines, from where earth seems, Far-stretch'd around, to meet the bending sphere. Half in a blush of clustering roses lost, Dew-dropping Coolness to the shade retires; There, on the verdant turf, or flowery bed, By gelid founts and careless rills to muse;
While tyrant Heat, dispreading through the sky,| With rapid sway, his burning influence darts On man, and beast, and herb, and tepid stream. Who can unpitying see the flowery race, Shed by the morn, their new-flush'd bloom resign, Before the parching beam? so fade the fair, When fevers revel through their azure veins. But one the lofty follower of the sun, Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves,
Drooping all night; and, when he warm returns, Points her enamour'd bosom to his ray.
But chief to heedless flies the window proves A constant death; where, gloomily retired, The villain spider lives, cunning, and fierce, Mixture abhorr'd! amid a mangled heap Of carcasses, in eager watch he sits, O'erlooking all his waving snares around. Near the dire cell the dreadless wanderer oft Passes, as oft the ruffian shows his front; The prey at last ensnared, he dreadful darts, With rapid glide, along the leaning line; And, fixing in the wretch his cruel fangs,
Home, from his morning task, the swain re- Strikes backward grimly pleased; the fluttering
treats; His flock before him stepping to the fold: While the full-udder'd mother lows around The cheerful cottage, then expecting food, The food of innocence and health! the daw, The rock, and magpie, to the gray-grown oaks That the calm village in their verdant arms, Sheltering, embrace, direct their lazy flight; Where on the mingling boughs they sit embower'd, All the hot noon, till cooler hours arise. Faint, underneath, the household fowls convene; And, in a corner of the buzzing shade, The house-dog, with the vacant greyhound, lies, Out-stretch'd, and sleepy. In his slumbers one Attacks the nightly thief, and one exults O'er hill and dale; till, waken'd by the wasp, They starting snap. Nor shall the Muse disdain To let the little noisy summer race Live in her lay, and flutter through her song: Not mean though simple; to the sun ally'd, From him they draw their animating fire.
Waked by his warmer ray, the reptile young Come wing'd abroad; by the light air upborne, Lighter, and full of soul. From every chink And secret corner, where they slept away The wintry storms; or rising from their tombs, To higher life; by myriads, forth at once, Swarming they pour; of all the varied hues Their beauty-beaming parent can disclose. Ten thousand forms, ten thousand different tribes, People the blaze. To sunny waters some By fatal instinct fly; where on the pool They, sportive, wheel: or, sailing down the stream, Are snatch'd immediate by the quick-eyed trout, Or darting salmon. Thro' the green-wood glade Some love to stray; there lodged, amused, and fed, In the fresh leaf. Luxurious, others make The meads their choice, and visit every flower, And every latent herb: for the sweet task, To propagate their kinds, and where to wrap, In what soft beds, their young yet undisclosed, Employs their tender care. Some to the house, The fold, and dairy, hungry bend their flight; Sip round the pail, or taste the curdling cheese; Oft, inadvertent, from the milky stream They meet their fate; or, weltering in the bowl, With powerless wings around them wrapt, expire.
And shriller sound declare extreme distress, And ask the helping hospitable hand.
Resounds the living surface of the ground: Nor undelightful is the ceaseless hum, To him who muses through the woods at noon; Or drowsy shepherd, as he lies reclined, With half-shut eyes, beneath the floating shade Of willows gray, close crowding o'er the brook.
Gradual, from these what numerous kinds de- scend,
Evading e'en the microscopic eye?
Full Nature swarms with life; one wondrous mass Of animals, or atoms organized, Waiting the vital breath, when parent Heaven Shall bid his spirit blow. The hoary fen, In putrid streams, emits the living cloud Of pestilence. Through subterranean cells, Where searching sunbeams scarce can find a way, Earth animated heaves. The flowery leaf Wants not its soft inhabitants. Secure, Within its winding citadel, the stone Holds multitudes. But chief the forest boughs, That dance unnumber'd to the playful breeze, The downy orchard, and the melting pulp Of mellow fruit, the nameless nations feed Of evanescent insects. Where the pool Stands mantled o'er with green, invisible, Amid the floating verdure millions stray. Each liquid too, whether it pierces, sooths, Inflames, refreshes, or exalts the taste, With various forms abounds. Nor is the stream Of purest crystal, nor the lucid air, Void of their unseen people. These, conceal'd Though one transparent vacancy it seems, By the kind art of forming Heaven, escape The grosser eye of man: for, if the worlds In worlds inclosed should on his senses burst, From cates ambrosial, and the nectar'd bowl, He would abhorrent turn; and in dead night, When silence sleeps o'er all, be stunn'd with noise.
Let no presuming impious railer tax Creative Wisdom, as if ought was form'd In vain, or not for admirable ends. Shall little haughty Ignorance pronounce His works unwise, of which the smallest part
Exceeds the narrow vision of her mind? As if upon a full proportion'd dome, On swelling columns heaved, the pride of art! A critic fly, whose feeble ray scarce spreads An inch around, with blind presumption bold, Should dare to tax the structure of the whole. And lives the man, whose universal eye
Embolden'd then, nor hesitating more,
Fast, fast, they plunge amid the flashing wave, And panting labour to the farthest shore. Repeated this, till deep the well-wash'd fleece Has drunk the flood, and from his lively haunt, The trout is banish'd by the sordid stream; Heavy, and dripping, to the breezy brow
Has swept at once the unbounded scheme of Slow move the harmless race: where, as they spread things;
Mark'd their dependance so, and firm accord, As with unfaltering accent to conclude That this availeth nought? Has any seen The mighty chain of beings, lessening down From Infinite Perfection to the brink Of dreary nothing, desolate abyss!
Their swelling treasures to the sunny ray, Inly disturb'd, and wondering what this wild Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints The country fill; and, toss'd from rock to rock, Incessant bleatings run around the hills.
At last, of snowy white, the gather'd flocks Are in the wattled pen innumerous press'd,
From which astonish'd thought, recoiling, turns? Head above head: and ranged in lusty rows
Till then alone let zealous praise ascend, And hymns of holy wonder, to that Power, Whose wisdom shines as lovely on our minds, As on our smiling eyes his servant-sun.
Thick in yon stream of light, a thousand ways, Upward, and downward, thwarting, and convolved, The quivering nations sport; till, tempest-wing'd, Fierce Winter sweeps them from the face of day. E'en so luxurious men, unheeding, pass An idle summer life in fortune's shine, A season's glitter! thus they flutter on From toy to toy, from vanity to vice; Till, blown away by death, oblivion comes Behind, and strikes them from the book of life. Now swarms the village o'er the jovial mead: The rustic youth, brown with meridian toil, Healthful and strong; full as the summer-rose" Blown by prevailing suns, the ruddy maid, Half naked, swelling on the sight, and all Her kindled graces burning o'er her cheek. E'en stooping age is here; and infant hands Trail the long rake, or, with the fragrant load O'ercharged, amid the kind oppression roll. Wide flies the tedded grain; all in a row Advancing broad, or wheeling round the field, They spread the breathing harvest to the sun, That throws refreshful round a rural smell: Or, as they rake the green-appearing ground, And drive the dusky wave along the mead, The russet hay-cock rises thick behind, In order gay. While heard from dale to dale, Waking the breeze, resounds the blended voice Of happy labour, love, and social glee.
Or rushing thence, in one diffusive band, They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog Compell'd, to where the mazy-running brook Forms a deep pool; this bank abrupt and high, And that fair-spreading in a pebbled shore. Urged to the giddy brink, much is the toil, The clamour much, of men, and boys, and dogs, Ere the soft fearful people to the flood Commit their woolly sides. And oft the swain, On some impatient seizing, hurls them in:
The shepherds sit, and whet the sounding shears. The housewife waits to roll her fleecy stores, With all her gay-drest maids attending round. One, chief, in gracious dignity enthroned, Shines o'er the rest, the pastoral queen, and rays Her smiles, sweet-beaming, on her shepherd-king; While the glad circle round them yield their souls To festive mirth, and wit that knows no gall. Meantime, their joyous task goes on apace: Some mingling stir the melted tar, and some, Deep on the new-shorn vagrant's heaving side, To stamp the master's cypher ready stand; Others the unwilling wether drag along; And, glorying in his might, the sturdy boy Holds by the twisted horns the indignant ram. Behold where bound, and of its robe bereft, By needy man, that all-depending lord, How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies! What softness in its melancholy face, What dumb complaining innocence appears! Fear not, ye gentle tribes, 'tis not the knife Of horrid slaughter that is o'er you waved; No, 'tis the tender swain's well-guided shears, Who having now, to pay his annual care, Borrow'd your fleece, to you a cumbrous load, Will send you bounding to your hills again.
A simple scene! yet hence Britannia sees Her solid grandeur rise: hence she commands The exalted stores of every brighter clime, The treasures of the sun without his rage: Hence, fervent all, with culture, toil, and arts, Wide glows her land: her dreadful thunder hence Rides o'er the waves sublime, and now, e'en now, Impending hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coast; Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world.
'Tis raging noon; and, vertical, the sun Darts on the head direct his forceful rays. O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns; and all From pole to pole is undistinguish'd blaze. In vain the sight, dejected, to the ground Stoops for relief; thence hot-ascending steams And keen reflection pain. Deep to the root
Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields And slippery lawn an arid hue disclose, Blast Fancy's bloom, and wither e'en the soul. Echo no more returns the cheerful sound Of sharpening scythe: the mower sinking heaps O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfumed; And scarce a chirping grasshopper is heard Through the dumb mead. Distressful Nature pants. The very streams look languid from afar; Or, through the unshelter'd glade, impatient, seem To hurl into the covert of the grove.
All-conquering Heat, oh intermit thy wrath! And on my throbbing temples potent thus Beam not so fierce! incessant still you flow, And still another fervent flood succeeds, Pour'd on the head profuse. In vain I sigh, And restless turn, and look around for night; Night is far off; and hotter hours approach. Thrice happy he! who on the sunless side Of a romantic mountain, forest-crown'd, Beneath the whole collected shade reclines: Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought, And fresh bedew'd with ever-spouting streams, Sits coolly calm; while all the world without, Unsatisfied, and sick, tosses in noon. Emblem instructive of the virtuous man,
Who keeps his temper'd mind serene and pure,
And every passion aptly harmonized,
Amid a jarring world with vice inflamed.
Light fly his slumbers, if perchance a flight Of angry gad-flies fasten on the herd; That startling scatters from the shallow brook, In search of lavish stream. Tossing the foam, They scorn the keeper's voice, and scour the plain, Through all the bright severity of noon; While, from their labouring breasts, a hollow moan Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills.
Oft in this season too the horse, provoked, While his big sinews full of spirits swell, Trembling with vigour, in the heat of blood, Springs the high fence; and, o'er the field effused, Darts on the gloomy flood, with steadfast eye, And heart estranged to fear: his nervous chest, Luxuriant, and erect, the seat of strength! Bears down the opposing stream: quenchless his thirst;
He takes the river at redoubled draughts; And with wide nostrils, snorting, skims the wave. Still let me pierce into the midnight depth Of yonder grove, of wildest largest growth: That, forming high in air a woodland quire, Nods o'er the mount beneath. At every step, Solemn and slow, the shadows blacker fall, And all is awful listening gloom around.
These are the haunts of Meditation, these The scenes where ancient bards the inspiring breath,
Ecstatic, felt; and, from this world retired,
Welcome, ye shades! ye bowery thickets, hail! Conversed with angels, and immortal forms,
Ye lofty pines! ye venerable oaks!
Ye ashes wild, resounding o'er the steep! Delicious is your shelter to the soul, As to the hunted hart the sallying spring, Or stream full-flowing, that his swelling sides Laves, as he floats along the herbaged brink. Cool, through the nerves, your pleasing comfort glides;
The heart beats glad; the fresh-expanded eye And ear resume their watch; the sinews knit; And life shoots swift through all the lighten'd limbs. Around the adjoining brook, that purls along The vocal grove, now fretting o'er a rock, Now scarcely moving through a reedy pool, Now starting to a sudden stream, and now Gently diffused into a limpid plain;
A various group the herds and flocks compose, Rural confusion! on the grassy bank Some ruminating lie; while others stand Half in the flood, and often bending sip The circling surface. In the middle droops The strong laborious ox, of honest front,
On gracious errands bent: to save the fall
Of virtue struggling on the brink of vice; In waking whispers, and repeated dreams, To hint pure thought, and warn the favour'd soul For future trials fated to prepare;
To prompt the poet, who devoted gives His muse to better themes; to sooth the pangs Of dying worth, and from the patriot's breast (Backward to mingle in detested war, But foremost when engaged) to turn the death; And numberless such offices of love, Daily, and nightly, zealous to perform.
Shook sudden from the bosom of the sky A thousand shapes or glide athwart the dusk, Or stalk majestic on. Deep-roused, I feel A sacred terror, a severe delight,
Creep through my mortal frame; and thus, methinks,
A voice than human more, the abstracted ear Of fancy strikes:-" Be not of us afraid, Poor kindred man! thy fellow-creatures, we From the same Parent-Power our beings drew,
Which incomposed he shakes; and from his sides The same our Lord, and laws, and great pursuit.
The troublous insects lashes with his tail, Returning still. Amid his subjects safe, Slumbers the monarch-swain; his careless arm Thrown round his head, on downy moss sustain'd; Here laid his scrip, with wholesome viands fill'd; There, listening every noise, his watchful dog.
Once some of us, like thee, through stormy life, Toil d, tempest-beaten, ere we could attain This holy calm, this harmony of mind, Where purity and peace immingle charms. Then fear not us; but with responsive song, Amid these dim recesses, undisturb'd
By noisy folly and discordant vice,
Of Nature sing with us, and Nature's God. Here frequent, at the visionary hour, When musing midnight reigns or silent noon, Angelic harps are in full concert heard, And voices chanting from the wood-crown'd hill, The deepening dale, or inmost sylvan glade: A privilege bestow'd by us, alone, On Contemplation, or the hallow'd ear Of poet, swelling to seraphic strain."
And art thou, Stanley,* of that sacred band? Alas, for us too soon! though raised above The reach of human pain, above the flight Of human joy; yet, with a mingled ray Of sadly pleased remembrance, must thou feel A mother's love, a mother's tender woe:⚫ Who seeks thee still, in many a former scene; Seeks thy fair form, thy lovely beaming eyes, Thy pleasing converse, by gay lively sense Inspired: where moral wisdom mildly shone, Without the toil of art; and virtue glow'd, In all her smiles, without forbidding pride. But, O thou best of parents! wipe thy tears; Or rather to Parental Nature pay The tears of grateful joy, who for a while Lent thee this younger self, this opening bloom Of thy enlighten'd mind and gentle worth. Believe the Muse: the wintry blast of death Kills not the buds of virtue; no, they spread, Beneath the heavenly beam of brighter suns, Through endless ages, into higher powers.
Thus up the mount, in airy vision wrapt, I stray, regardless whither; till the sound Of a near fall of water every sense Wakes from the charm of thought: swift-shrink- ing back,
I check my steps, and view the broken scene. Smooth to the shelving brink a copious flood Rolls fair, and placid; where collected all, In one impetuous torrent, down the steep It thundering shoots, and shakes the country round.
At first, an azure sheet, it rushes broad; Then whitening by degrees, as prone it falls, And from the loud resounding rocks below Dash'd in a cloud of foam, it sends aloft A hoary mist, and forms a ceaseless shower. Nor can the tortured wave here find repose: But, raging still amid the shaggy rocks, Now flashes o'er the scatter'd fragments, now Aslant the hollow channel rapid darts; And falling fast from gradual slope to slope, With wild infracted course, and lessen'd roar, It gains a safer bed, and steals, at last, Along the mazes of the quiet vale.
Invited from the cliff, to whose dark brow
He clings, the steep-ascending eagle soars, With upward pinions through the flood of day; And, giving full his bosom to the blaze, Gains on the sun; while all the tuneful race, Smit by afflictive noon, disordered droop, Deep in the thicket; or, from bower to bower Responsive, force an interrupted strain. The stock-dove only through the forest coos, Mournfully hoarse; oft ceasing feom his plaint, Short interval of weary wo! again
The sad idea of his murder'd mate, Struck from his side by savage fowler's guile, Across his fancy comes; and then resounds A louder song of sorrow through the grove. Beside the dewy border let me sit,
All in the freshness of the humid air: There in that hollow'd rock, grotesque and wild, An ample chair moss-lined, and over head By flowering umbrage shaded; where the bee Strays diligent; and with the extracted balm Of fragrant woodbine loads his little thigh.
Now, while I taste the sweetness of the shade While Nature lies around deep-lull'd in noon, Now come, bold Fancy, spread a daring flight, And view the wonders of the torrid zone: Climes unrelenting! with whose rage compared, Yon blaze is feeble, and yon skies are cool. See, how at once the bright effulgent sun, Rising direct, swift chases from the sky The short-lived twilight; and with ardent blaze Looks gaily fierce through all the dazzling air: He mounts his throne; but kind before him sends, Issuing from out the portals of the morn, The general breeze,* to mitigate his fire, And breathe refreshment on a fainting world. Great are the scenes, with dreadful beauty crown'd And barbarous wealth, that see, each circling year, Returning suns and double seasonst pass: Rocks rich in gems, and mountains big with mines, That on the high equator ridgy rise,
Whence many a bursting stream auriferous plays: Majestic woods, of every vigorous green, Stage above stage, high waving o'er the hills; Or to the fair horizon wide diffused, A boundless deep immensity of shade. Here lofty trees, to ancient song unknown, The noble sons of potent heat and floods Prone-rushing from the clouds, rear high to Heaven Their thorny stems, and broad around them throw Meridian gloom. Here, in eternal prime, Unnumbered fruits of keen delicious taste And vital spirit, drink amid the cliffs,
Which blows constantly between the tropics from the east, or the collateral points, the north east and south-east; caused by the pressure of the rarefied air on that before it, according to the diurnal motion of the sun from east to west. ↑ In all climates between the tropics, the sun, as he passes
A young lady, who died at the age of eighteen, in the year and repasses in his annual motion, is twice a year vertical, 1738, upon whom Thomson wrote an Epitaph.
which produces this effect.
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