When most severe, and muft'ring all its force, Was but the graver countenance of love ; Whofe favour, like the clouds of foring, might low'r, And utter now and then an awful voice, But had a bleffing in its darkest frown, Threat'ning at once and nourishing the plant. His fhelt'ring fide, and wilfully forewent "Till time has ftol'n away the flighted good, Is cause of half the poverty we feel, And makes the world the wildernefs it is. The few that pray at all pray oft amifs, And, feeking grace t' improve the prize they hold, The night was winter in his roughest mood, And where the woods fence off the northern blast, And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue The dazzling splendour of the scene below. And through the trees I view th' embattled tow'r The foothing influence of the wafted strains, And settle in foft mufings as I tread 1 The walk still verdant, under oaks and elms, Whose outfpread branches overarch the glade. The frequent flakes, has kept a path for me. No noife is here, or none that hinders thought. With flender notes and more than half fupprefs'd: From fpray to fpray, where'er he rests he shakes That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below. May think down hours to moments. May give an useful leffon to the head, Here the heart And learning, wifer grow without his books. Have oft-times no connexion. Knowledge dwells In heads replete with thoughts of other men, Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. The mere materials with which wisdom builds, Surrender judgment, hood-wink'd. Some, the style Of error leads them, by a tune entranc'd. While floth feduces more, too weak to bear The infupportable fatigue of thought, And swallowing, therefore, without pause or choice, The total grift unfifted, husks and all. But trees, and rivulets whose rapid course 7 Defies Defies the check of winter, haunts of deer, And sheep-walks, populous with bleating lambs, Peeps through the mofs that cloaths the hawthorn root, Not fhy, as in the world, and to be won By flow folicitation, feize at once The roving thought, and fix it on themselves. What prodigies can pow'r divine perform Familiar with th' effect we flight the cause, And renovation of a faded world, See nought to wonder at. Should God again, As once in Gibeon, interrupt the race Of the undeviating and punctual fun, How would the world admire! but speaks it less An |