'Till Greece, amaz'd, and half-afraid, Th' affembled deities furvey'd.

Great Pan, who wont to chase the fair,
And lov'd the fpreading oak, was there;
Old Saturn too with t
up caft
eyes,
Beheld his abdicated fkies;,

And mighty Mars, for war renown'd,
In adamantine armour frown'd;
By him the childless goddefs rofe,
Minerva, ftudious to compofe

Her twisted threads; the web she ftrung,
And o'er a loom of marble hung:
Thetis, the troubled ocean's queen,
Match'd with a mortal, next was seen,
Reclining on a funeral urn,

Her fhort-liv'd darling fon to mourn.
The laft was he, whofe thunder flew
The Titan-race, a rebel crew,
That from a hundred hills ally'd
In impious leagues their king defy'd.
This wonder of the fculptor's hand
Produc'd, his art was at a ftand:
For who would hope new fame to raise,
Or rifk his well-establifh'd praife,
That, his high genius to approve,
Had drawn a George, or carv'd a fove?

GRONGAR HILL.

[DYER.]

ILENT nymph, with curious eye!
Who, the purple ev'ning, lie
On the mountain's lonely van,
Beyond the noife of bufy man,
Painting fair the form of things,
While the yellow linnet fings;
Or the tuneful nightingale
Charms the foreft with her tale;
Come with all thy various hues,
Come and aid thy fifter Mufe :
Now while Phoebus riding high
Gives luftre to the land and fky!
Grongar Hill invites my fong,
Draw the landfkip bright and ftrong;

Grongar,

Grongar, in whofe moffy cells.
Sweetly mufing Quiet dwells;
Grongar, in whofe filent fhade,-
For the modeft Mufes made,
So oft I have, the evening ftill,,
At the fountain of a rill,,
Sat upon a flow'ry bed,,

With my hand beneath my head';

While ftray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood,
Over mead, and over wood,

From house to houfe, from hill to hill,
'Till Contemplation had her fill.

About his chequer'd fides I wind,
And leave his brooks and meads behind,
And groves and grottoes where I lay,
And viftoes fhooting beams of day:
Wide and wider fpreads the vale;
A's circles on a smooth canal;
The mountains round, unhappy fate!
Sooner or later, of all height,
Withdraw their fummits from the fkies,
And leffen as the others rife ;
Still the profpect wider fpreads,
Adds a thoufand woods and meads,
Still it widens, widens ftill,
And finks the newly-rifen hill.
Now, I gain the mountain's brow;

What a landfkip lies below!
No clouds, no vapours intervene,
But the gay, the open fcene

Does the face of nature fhow,

In all the hues of heaven's bow!

And, fwelling to embrace the light,bre bowels Heal Spreads around beneath the fight.

Old caftles on the cliffs arife,

Proudly tow'ring in the fkies!
Rufhing from the woods, the fpires
Seem from hence afcending fires!

Half his beams Apollo fheds

On the yellow mountain-heads!

Gilds the fleeces of the flocks, pro

And glitters on the broken rocks!

Beautiful in various dyes:

Below me trees unnumber'd rife, shob ad aud

The gloomy pine, the poplar blue,
The yellow beech, the fable yew,
The flender fir, that taper grows,
The sturdy oak, with broad-fpread boughs,
And beyond, the purple grove,
Haunt of Phillis, queen of love!
Gaudy as the op'ning dawn,
Lies a long and level lawn,

On which a dark hill, ffeep and high,
Holds and charms the wand'ring eye;
Deep are his feet in Towy's flood,
His fides are-cloath'd with waving wood,
And ancient towers crown his brow,
That caft an aweful look below;
Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps,
And with her arms from falling keeps;
So both a fafety from the wind
On mutual dependence find.

'Tis now the raven's bleak abode;
'Tis now th' apartment of the toad;
And there the fox fecurely feeds,
And there the pois'nous adder breeds,
Conceal'd in ruins, mofs and weeds:
While, ever and anon, there falls
Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls.
Yet time has been, that lifts the low,
And level lays the lofty brow,
Has feen this broken pile compleat,
Big with the vanity of ftate;
But tranfient is the fmile of fate!
A little rule, a little fway,

A fun beam in a winter's day,

Is all the proud and mighty have fina
Between the cradle and the grave.

And fee the rivers how they run,

Through woods and meads, in fhade and fun,
Sometimes fwift, fometimes flow,
Wave fucceeding wave, they go
A various journey to the deep,
Like human life to endless fleep!
Thus is nature's vefture wrought,
To inftruct our wand'ring thought;
Thus the dreffes green and gay,
To difperfe our cares away.

}

Ever charming, ever new,

When will the landskip tire the view!
The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody vallies, warm and low;
The windy fummit, wild and high,
Roughly rufhing on the sky

The pleafant feat, the ruin'd tow'r,
The naked rock, the fhady bow'r;
The town and village, dome and farm,
Fach give each a double charm,
As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm.
See on the mountain's fouthern fide,
Where the profpect opens wide,
There the evening gilds the tide;
How close and fmall the hedges lie!
What ftreaks of ineadows cross the eye!
A ftep methinks may pafs the ftream;
So little diftant dangers feem;

So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd through hope's deluding glass;
As yon fummits foft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,

Which to thofe who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear;
Still we tread the fame coarfe way,
The prefent's ftill a cloudy day.
O may I with myself agree,
And never covet what I fee!
Content me with a humble fhade,
My paffions tam'd, my wifhes laid;
For while our wishes idly roll,
We banifh quiet from the foul:
'Tis thus the bufy beat the air;
And mifers gather wealth and care.
Now, ev'n now, my joys run high,
As on the mountain-turf I lie;
While the wanton Zephyr fings,
And in the vale perfumes his wings;
While the waters murmur deep;
While the fhepherd charms his fheep;
While the birds unbounded fly,.
And with mufick fill the fky,
Now, ev'n now, my joys run high.

}

Be full, ye courts, be great who will; Search for Peace with all your fkill: Open wide the lofty door,

Seek her on the marble floor,

In vain you fearch, fhe is not there;
In vain ye fearch the domes of care!
Grafs and flowers Quiet treads,
On the meads, and mountain-heads,
Along with Pleafure, clofe ally'd,
Ever by each other's fide:

And often, by the murm'ring rill,
Hears the thrufh, while all is ftill,
Within the groves of Grongar Hill.

LABOUR RECOMMENDED.

[DYER.]

Ev'N nature lives by toil :

Beaft, bird, air, fire, the heav'ns, and rolling worlds,
All live by action: nothing lies at reft,

But death and ruin: man is born to care;
Fashion'd, improv'd, by labour. This, of old,
Wife ftates obferving, gave that happy law,
Which doom'd the rich and needy, ev'ry rank,
To manual occupation; and oft call'd

Their chieftains from the fpade, or furrowing plough,
Or bleating fheepfold. Hence utility

Through all conditions; hence the joys of health;
Hence ftrength of arm, and clear judicious thought;
Hence corn, and wine, and oil, and all in life
Delectable. What fimple nature yields

(And nature does her part) are only rude
Materials, cumbers on the thorny ground;

}

"Tis toil that makes them wealth; that makes the fleece,
(Yet ufelefs, rifing in unfhapen heaps)
Anon, in curious woofs of beauteous hue,
A vefture usefully fuccinct and warm,
Or, trailing in the length of graceful folds,
A royal mantle. Come, ye village nymphs,
The fcatter'd mifts reveal the dufky hills;
Grey dawn appears; the golden morn afcends,
And paints the glitt'ring rocks, and purple woods,
And flaming fpires; arife, begin your toils;
Behold the fleece beneath the fpiky comb

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