Puslapio vaizdai
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Efcap'd from winter's freezing pow'r
Each bloffom greets thee, and each flow'r;
And, foremost of the train,

By nature (artless handmaid) dreft
The fnow-drop comes in lillied veft
Prophetic of thy reign.

The lark now ftrains her tuneful throat,
And ev'ry loud, and fprightly note
Calls echo from her cell;

Be warn'd, ye maids, that liften round,
A beauteous nymph became a found,
The nymph, who lov'd too well.

The bright-hair'd fun, with warmth benign,
Bids tree and fhrub, and fwelling vine,
Their infant buds difplay:

Again the ftreams refresh the plains,
Which winter bound in icy chains,
And fparkling bless his ray.
Life-giving zephyrs breathe around,
And inftant glows th' enamell'd ground
With nature's varied hues;
Not fo returns our youth decay'd,
Alas! nor air, nor fun, nor fhade
The fpring of life renews.

The fun's too quick revolving beam

A-pace diffolves the human dream, that and stad
And brings th' appointed hour;

Too late we catch his parting ray,
And mourn the idly wafted day,
No longer in our pow'r.

Then happiest he, whofe lengthen'd fight div Purfues by virtue's conftant light

A hope beyond the fkies;

Where frowning winter ne'er fhall come,

But rofy fpring for ever bloom,

And funs eternal rife.

The EMPLOYMENTS of a COUNTRY LIFE.

[GAY.]

IS not that rural fports alone invite,

But all the grateful country breathes delight;

Here

Here blooming health exerts her gentle reign,
And ftrings the finews of th' induftrious fwain,
Soon as the morning lark falutes the day,
Through dewy fields I take my frequent way,,
Where I behold the farmer's early care,
In the revolving labours of the year.

When the fresh spring in all her ftate is crown'd,
And high luxuriant grafs o'erfpreads the ground,
The lab'rer with the bending fcythe is feen,
Shaving the furface of the waving green,
Of all her native pride difrobes the land,
And meads lays wafte before his fweeping hand;
While with the mounting fun the meadow glows,
The fading herbage round he loosely throws;
But if fome fign portend a lafting fhow'r,
Th' experienc'd fwain forefees the coming hour,
His fun-burnt hands the fcatt'ring fork forfake,
And ruddy damfels ply the faving rake;
In rifing hills the fragrant harveft grows,
And fpreads along the field in equal.rows.

Now when the height of heav'n bright Phoebus gains,
And level rays cleave wide the thirty plains,
When heifers feek the shade and cooling lake,
And in the middle path-way bafks the fnake;
O lead me, guard me from the fultry hours,
Hide me, ye forefts, in your clofeft bowers:
Where the tall oak his fpreading arms entwines,
And with the beech a mutual fhade combines;
Where flows the murmuring brook, inviting dreams,
Where bordering hazle overhangs the ftreams,
Whofe rolling current, winding round and round,
With frequent falls makes all the wood refound;
Upon the moffy couch my limbs I caft,

And ev❜n at noon the fweets of ev'ning taste.

Here I perufe the Mantuan's Georgic ftrains, witá And learn the labours of Italian fwains;

In ev'ry page I fee new landfcapes rife,
And all Hefperia opens to my eyes.
I wander o'er the various rural toil,
And know the nature of each different foil:
This waving field is gilded o'er with corn,

That fpreading trees with blufhing fruit adorn :

Here

Here I furvey the purple vintage grow,
Climb round the poles, and rife in graceful row:
Now I behold the fteed curvet and bound,

And paw with reftlefs hoof the fmoaking ground.

The careful infect 'midft his works I view,
Now from the flow'rs exhauft the fragrant dew;
With golden treasures load his little thighs,
And fteer his diftant journey through the fkies;
Some against hoftile drones the hive defend;
Others with sweets the waxen cells diftend:
Each in the toil his deftin'd office bears,
And in the little bulk a mighty foul appears.

Or when the ploughman leaves the task of day,
And trudging homeward whiftles on the way;
When the big udder'd cows with patience ftand,
Waiting the ftroakings of the damfel's hand;
No warbling chears the woods; the feather'd choir
To court kind flumbers to their sprays retire;
When no rude gale difturbs the fleeping trees,
Nor afpen leaves confefs the gentleft breeze;
Engag'd in thought, to Neptune's bounds I ftray,
To take my farewell of the parting day;
Far in the deep the fun his glory hides,
A ftreak of gold the fea and fky divides:
The purple clouds their amber linings fhow,
And edg'd with flames rolls ev'ry wave below:
Here penfive I behold the fading light,
And o'er the diftant billow lofe my fight.

Now night in filent ftate begins to rife,
And twinkling orbs beftrow th' uncloudy skies;
Her borrow'd luftre growing Cynthia lends,
And on the main a glittering path extends;
Millions of worlds hang in the fpacious air,
Which round their funs their annual circle fteer,
Sweet contemplation elevates my fenfe,
While I furvey the works of providence.
O could the mufe in loftier ftrains rehearse
The glorious Author of the universe,

Who reins the winds, gives the vaft ocean bounds,
And circumfcribes the floating worlds their rounds,
My foul fhould overflow in fongs of praife,
And my Creator's name infpire my lays!

The

The HAPPINESS of a COUNTRY-LIFE.

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- [GAY.]

Happy plains, remote from wars alarms,

And all the ravages of hoftile arms!

And happy fhepherds, who fecure from fear, dan) sil On open downs preferve your fleecy care!

Whofe fpacious barns groan with increafing ftore,

And whirling flails disjoint the cracking floor:
No barb'rous foldier, bent on cruel spoil,
Spreads defolation o'er your fertile foil;
No trampling fteed lays wafte the ripen'd grain,
Nor crackling fires devour the promis'd gain;
No flaming beacons caft their blaze afar,
The dreadful fignal of invasive war;

No trumpet's clangor wounds the mother's ear,
And calls the lover from his fwooning fair.

What happiness the rural maid attends,
In chearful labour while each day fhe fpends!
She gratefully receives what heav'n has fent,
And, rich in poverty, enjoys content:
(Such happiness, and fuch unblemish'd fame,
Ne'er glad the bofom of the courtly dame)
She never feels the spleen's imagin'd pains,
Nor melancholy ftagnates in her veins;
She never lofes life in thoughtless eafe,
Nor on the velvet couch invites disease:
Her home-fpun drefs in fimple neatnefs lies,
And for no glaring equipage the fighs;
Her reputation, which is all her boaft, nidela wakt
In a malicious vifit ne'er was loft; edo gaiblaivi ba A
No midnight masquerade her beauty wears, agen
And health, not paint, the fading bloom repairs.
If love's foft paffion in her bofom reign,
An equal paffion warms her happy fwain;
No home-bred jars her quiet ftate controul,
Nor watchful jealoufy torments her foul;
With fecret joy fhe fees her little race

Hang on her breast, and her small cottage grace;ig or
The fleecy ball their busy fingers cull,

Or from the fpindle draw the length'ning woolis
Thus flow her hours with conftant peace of mind,dy2
Till age the latest thread of life unwind.

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Ye

Ye happy fields, unknown to noife and ftrife,
The kind rewarders of induftrious life;
Ye fhady woods, where once I us'd to rove,
Alike indulgent to the mufe and love;
Ye murm'ring ftreams that in meanders roll,
The fweet compofers of the penfive foul,
Farewell. The city calls me from your bow'rs:
Farewell amufing thoughts and peaceful hours.

The ADVANTAGES of WALKING:

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The miferable FATE of a BEAU,

[GAY.]

Ye affociate walkers, O my friends,

Upon your state what happiness attends!
What, tho' no coach to frequent vifit rolls,
Nor for your fhilling chairmen fling their poles;
Yet ftill your nerves rheumatic pains defy,
Nor lazy jaundice dulls your faffron eye;
No wafting cough difcharges founds of death,
Nor wheezing asthma heaves in vain for breath;
Nor from your reftlefs couch is heard the groan
Of burning gout, or fedentary ftone.

Let others in the jolting coach confide,
Or in the leaky boat the Thames divide;
Or, box'd within the chair, contemn the ftreet,
And trust their fafety to another's feet.
Still let me walk; for oft the fudden gale
Ruffles the tide, and fhifts the dang'rous fail.
Then fhall the paffenger too late deplore
The whelming billow, and the faithlefs oar;
The drunken chairman in the kennel fpurns,
The glaffes fhatters, and his charge o'erturns.
Who can recount the coach's various harms,
The legs disjointed, and the broken arms?

I've seen a beau, in fome ill fated hour,
When o'er the ftones choak'd kennels fwell the fhow'r,
In gilded chariot loll; he with difdain

Views fpatter'd paffengers all drench'd in rain;

With mud fill'd high, the rumbling cart draws near,
Now rule thy prancing fteeds, lac'd charioteer!
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