And with the moral beauty charm the heart.
Why need I name thy Boyle, whofe pious fearch
Amid the dark recefles of his works,

The great Creator fought? and why thy Locke,
Who made the whole internal world his own?
Let Newton, pure intelligence, whom God
To mortals lent, to trace his boundless works
From laws fublimely fimple, fpeak thy fame
In all philofophy. For lofty fenfe,
Creative fancy, and infpection keen

Thro' the deep windings of the human heart,
Is not wild Shakespear thine and Nature's boat?
Is not each great, each amiable Muse

Of claffic ages in thy Milton met?:
A genius univerfal as his theme;
Aftonishing as Chaos, as the bloom

Of blowing Eden fair, as Heaven fublime.
Nor fhall my verfe that elder bard forget,
The gentle Spencer, Fancy's pleafing fon;
Who like a copious river pour'd his fong
O'er all the mazes of enchanted ground:
Nor thee, his antient Mafter, laughing fage,
Chaucer, whofe native manners-painting verfe,
Well-moraliz'd, fhines thro' the Gothic cloud
Of time and language o'er thy genius thrown.
May my fong foften, as thy Daughters I,
Britannia, hail! for beauty is their own, od W
The feeling heart, fimplicity of life,

And elegance, and tafte; the faultlefs form,odt is beA
Shap'd by the hand of harmony; the cheek, le rall
Where the live crimson, thro' the native white
Soft-fhooting, o'er the face diffufes bloom,

And every nameless grace; the parted lip,
Like the red rofe-bud moift with morning-dew,n
Breathing delight; and, under flowing jet,
Or funny ringlets, or of circling brown,

The neck flight-fhaded, and the fwelling breaft;
The look refiftlefs, piercing to the foul,

And by the foul inform'd, when dreft in love 1206
She fits high-fmiling in the conscious eye.

Ifland of blifs! amid the fubject feas

That thunder round thy rocky coafts, fet up,
At once the wonder, terror, and delight
Of distant nations; whofe remotest shores

Can foon be fhaken by thy naval arm;
Not to be fhook thyfelf, but all affaults
Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud fea-wave.

O Thou! by whofe almighty Nod the fcale
Of empire rifes, or alternate falls,

Send forth the faving virtues round the land,
In bright patrol white Peace, and focial Love;
The tender-looking Charity, intent

On gentle deeds, and fhedding tears thro' fmiles;
Undaunted Truth, and Dignity of mind;

Courage compos'd, and keen; found Temperance,
Healthful in heart and look; clear Chastity,
With blushes reddening as the moves along,
Diforder'd at the deep regard the draws;
Rough Induftry; Activity untir'd,
With copious life inform'd, and all awake:
While in the radiant front, fuperior fhines
That firft paternal virtue, Public Zeal;
Who throws o'er all an equal wide furvey,
And, ever mufing on the common weal,
Still labours glorious with fome great defign.

The BLESSINGS of INDUSTRY.

TH

[THOMSON.]

HESE are thy bleffings, Induftry! rough power! Whom labour ftill attends, and fweat, and pain; Yet the kind fource of every gentle art,

And all the foft civility of life:

Raifer of human kind! by Nature caft,
Naked, and helplefs, out amid the woods
And wilds, to rude inclement elements;
With various feeds of art deep in the mind
Implanted, and profufely pour'd around
Materials infinite; but idle all.

Still unexerted, in th' unconfcious breast,
Slept the lethargic powers; corruption ftil',
Voracious, fwallow'd what the liberal hand
Of bounty fcatter'd o'er the favage year:
And still the fad barbarian, roving, mix'd
With beafts of prey; or for his acorn meal
Fought the fierce tufky boar; a fhivering wretch!
Aghaft, and comfortlefs, when the bleak north,
With Winter charg'd, let the mix'd tempeft fy,

Hail, rain, and fnow, the bitter-breathing froft:
Then to the fhelter of the hut he fled;
And the wild feafon, fordid, pin'd away.
For home he had not; home is the refort
Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where,
Supporting and fupported, polifh'd friends,
And dear relations mingle into blifs.
But this the rugged favage never felt,
Even defolate in crouds; and thus his days
Roll'd heavy, dark, and unenjoy'd along:
A wafte of time! till Induftry approach'd,
And rous'd him from this miserable floth:
His faculties unfolded; pointed out,
Where lavish Nature the directing hand
Of Art demanded; fhew'd him how to raise
His feeble force by the mechanic powers,
To dig the mineral from the vaulted earth,
On what to turn the piercing rage of fire,
On what the torrent, and the gather'd blaft;
Gave the tall antient foreft to his ax;
Taught him to chip the wood, and hew the stone,
Till by degrees the finifh'd fabric rofe;
Tore from his limbs the blood-polluted fur,
And wrapt them in the woolly veftment warm,
Or bright in gloffy filk, and flowing lawn;
With wholefome viands fill'd his table, pour'd
The generous glafs around, infpir'd to wake
The life-refining foul of decent wit:
Nor ftopp'd at barren, bare neceffity;
But ftill advancing bolder, led him on,
To pomp, to pleasure, elegance and grace;
And breathing high ambition thro' his foul,
Set fcience, wisdom, glory, in his

view,

And bade him be the Lord of all below.

Then gathering Men their natural powers combin'd, And form'd a Public; to the general good Submitting, aiming, and conducting all. For this the Patriot-Council met, the full, The free, and fairly reprefented Whole; For this they plann'd the holy guardian laws, Diftinguifh'd orders, animated arts, And with joint force Oppreffion chaining, fet Imperial Juftice at the helm; yet ftill To them accountable: nor flavifh dream'd

15

That

That toiling millions muft refign their weal,
And all the honey of their fearch, to fuch
As for themselves alone themfelves had rais'd..
Hence every form of cultivated life
In order fet, protected, and infpir'd,
Into perfection wrought. Uniting all,
Society grew numerous, high, polite,
And happy. Nurfe of art! the city rear'd
In beauteous pride her tower-encircled head;
And, ftretching street on street, by thousands drew,
From twining woody haunts, or the tough yew
To bows ftrong ftraining, her afpiring fons.

Then Commerce brought into the public walk
The bufy merchant; the big warehouse built;
Rais'd the ftrong crane; choak'd up the loaded streetr
With foreign plenty; and thy ftream, O Thames,
Large, gentle, deep, majestic, king of floods!
Chofe for his grand refort. On either hand,
Like a long wintry foreft, groves of masts
Shot up their fpires; the bellying fheet between
Poffefs'd the breezy void; the footy hulk
Steer'd fluggish on; the fplendid barge along
Row'd, regular, to harmony; around,

The boat, light-fkimming,, ftretch'd its oary wings,.
While deep the various voice of fervent toil

From bank to bank increas'd; whence ribb'd with oak,,

To bear the British Thunder, black, and bold,

The roaring veffel rufh'd into the main.

Then too the pillar'd dome, magnific, heav'd

Its ample roof; and luxury within

Pour'd out her glittering ftores: the canvas fmooth,,

With glowing life protuberant, to the view

Embodied rofe; the ftatue feem'd to breathe,.
And foften into flesh, beneath the touch
Of forming art, imagination-flush'd.

All is the gift of Industry; whate'er
Exalts, embellifhes, and renders life.
Delightful. Penfive Winter chear'd by him.
Sits at the focial fire, and happy hears
Th' excluded tempeft idly rave along;
His harden'd fingers deck the gaudy (pring;
Without him Summer were an arid wafte;
Nor to th' autumnal months could thus tranfmit
Thofe full, mature, immeafurable ftores,

A

That, waving round, recal my wandering fong.

A HARVEST SCENE with the STORY of PALEMON and LAVINIA. [THOMSON.]

SOON

OON as the morning trembles o'er the sky,
And, unperceiv'd, unfolds the fpreading day;
Before the ripened field the reapers ftand,

In fair array; each by the lafs he loves,
To bear the rougher part, and mitigate,
By nameless gentle offices, her toil.

At once they stoop and fwell the lufty fheaves;
While thro' their chearful band the rural talk,
The rural fcandal and the rural jeft,
Fly harmless, to deceive the tedious time,
And fteal unfelt the fultry hours away.
Behind the mafter walks, binds up the fhocks;
And, confcious, glancing oft on every fide,
His fated eye, feels his heart heave with joy.
The gleaners fpread around, and here and there,
Spike after fpike, their fparing harveft pick di
Be not too narrow, hufbandmen! but throw
From the full fheaf, with charitable stealth,
The liberal handful. Think, Oh grateful think!
How good the GOD of HARVEST is to you;
Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields;
While thefe unhappy partners of your kind o
Wide-hover round you, like the fowls of heaven,
And afk their humble dole. The various turns
Of fortune ponder; that your fons may want
What now, with hard reluctance, faint, you gives br
The lovely young LAVINIA once had friends,
And fortune fmil'd, deceitful, on her birth,
For in her helplefs years depriv'd of all, wolle
Of every stay, fave Innocence and Heaven,
She with her widow'd mother, feeble, old,
And poor, liv'd in a cottage, far retir'd
Among the windings of a woody vale;
By folitude and deep furrounding fhades,

9971

But more by bafhful modefty, conceal'd. od 23 $11
Together thus they fhun'd the cruel fcorn
Which virtue, funk to poverty, would meet
From giddy paffion and low-minded pride:
Almoft on Nature's common bounty fed;
Like the gay birds that fung them to repofe,
Content, and carelefs of to-morrow's fare.