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Or fcatters o'er the blooms the pungent duft

Of pepper, fatal to the frosty tribe :

Or, when th' envenom'd leaf begins to curl,

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With fprinkled water drowns them in their neft;
Nor, while they pick them up with busy bill,
The little trooping birds unwisely scares. ›

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Be patient, fwains; thefe cruel-feeming winds Blow not in vain. Far hence they keep reprefs'd Thofe deepening clouds on clouds, furcharg'd with rain, That, o'er the vast Atlantic hither borne,

In endless train, would quench the fummer-blaze, 140 And, chearlefs, drown the crude unripened year.

The north-eaft spends his rage; he now shut up
Within his iron cave, th' effufive fouth

Warms the wide air, and o'er the void of heaven
Breathes the big clouds with vernal fhowers diftent.
At first a dusky wreath they feem to rife,
Scarce ftaining æther; but by swift degrees,
In heaps on heaps, the doubling vapour fails
Along the loaded fky, and mingling deep
Sits on th' horizon round a fettled gloom :
Not fuch as wintery-ftorms on mortals fhed,
Oppreffing life; but lovely, gentle, kind,
And full of every hope and every joy,

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The with of Nature. Gradual finks the breeze

Into a perfect calm; that not a breath

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Is heard to quiver through the clofing woods,
Or rustling turn the many twinkling leaves
Of afpin tall. Th' uncurling floods, diffus'd
In glaffy breadth, feem through delufive lapse

Forgetful

Forgetful of their courfe. 'Tis filence all,
And pleafing expectation. Herds and flocks
Drop the dry fprig, and mute-imploring eye
The falling verdure. Hufh'd in short fufpenfe,
The plumy people ftreak their wings with oil,
To throw the lucid moisture trickling off;
And wait th' approaching fign to strike, at once,
Into the general choir. Ev'n mountains, vales,
And forefts feem, impatient, to demand
The promis'd fweetness. Man fuperior walks
Amid the glad creation, mufing praise,
And looking lively gratitude. At laft,
The clouds confign their treasures to the fields;
And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool
Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow,
In large effufion, o'er the freshen'd world.
The stealing shower is scarce to patter heard,
By fuch as wander through the forest walks,
Beneath th' umbrageous multitude of leaves.

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But who can hold the fhade, while Heaven defcends
In univerfal bounty, fhedding herbs,

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And fruits, and flowers, on Nature's ample lap?

Swift fancy fir'd anticipates their growth;

And, while the milky nutriment distils,
Beholds the kindling country colour round.
Thus all day long the full-diftended clouds
Indulge their genial ftores, and well-shower'd earth
Is deep-enrich'd with vegetable life;
Till, in the western sky, the downward fun
Looks out, effulgent, from amid the flush

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of

Of broken clouds, gay-shifting to his beam.
The rapid radiance instantaneous ftrikes

Th' illumin'd mountain, through the forest streams,
Shakes on the floods, and in a yellow mist,

Far fmoaking o'er th' interminable plain,
In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems.

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Moist, bright, and green, the landskip laughs around.
Full fwell the woods; their very mufic wakes,
Mix'd in wild concert with the warbling brooks
Increas'd, the diftant bleatings of the hills,
And hollow lows responsive from the vales,
Whence blending all the fweeten'd zephyr springs.
Mean time refracted from yon eastern cloud,
Beftriding earth, the grand ethereal bow
Shoots up immense; and every hue unfolds,
In fair proportion running from the red,

To where the violet fades into the sky.
Here, awful Newton, the diffolving clouds
Form, fronting on the fun, thy fhowery prifm;
And to the fage-inftructed eye unfold

The various twine of light, by thee difclos'd
From the white mingling maze. Not fo the boy;
He wondering views the bright enchantment bend,
Delightful, o'er the radiant fields, and runs
To catch the falling glory; but amaz’d
Beholds th' amufive arch before him fly,

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Then vanish quite away. Still night succeeds,

A foften'd fhade, and faturated earth
Awaits the morning-beam, to give to light,

Rais'd through ten thousand different plastick tubes,

The

The balmy treasures of the former day.

Then spring the living herbs, profusely wild,
O'er all the deep-green earth, beyond the power
Of botanists to number up their tribes :
Whether he steals along the lonely dale,

In filent search; or through the forest, rank
With what the dull incurious weeds account,

Burfts his blind way; or climbs the mountain rock,
Fir'd by the nodding verdure of its brow.

With fuch a liberal hand has Nature flung

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Their feeds abroad, blown them about in winds, 230 Innumerous mix'd them with the nurfing mold,

The moistening current, and prolific rain.

But who their virtues can declare? who pierce, With vision pure, into these secret stores,

Of health, and life, and joy? The food of man, 23.5
While yet he liv'd in innocence, and told

A length of golden years; unflesh'd in blood,
A stranger to the favage arts of life,
Death, rapine, carnage, furfeit, and disease;
The lord, and not the tyrant, of the world.

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The first fresh dawn then wak'd the gladden'd race Of uncorrupted man, nor blush'd to fee

The fluggard fleep beneath its facred beam :
For their light flumbers gently fum'd away;
And up they rofe as vigorous as the fun,
Or to the culture of the willing glebe,
Or to the chearful tendance of the flock.

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Meantime the fong went round; and dance and sport, Wisdom and friendly talk, fucceffive, stole

Their hours away; while in the rofy vale

Love breath'd his infant fighs, from anguish free,
And full replete with bliss; fave the fweet pain,
That, inly thrilling, but exalts it more.

Nor yet injurious act, nor furly deed,

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Was known among thofe happy fons of Heaven; 255
For reafon and benevolence were law.
Harmonious Nature too look'd fmiling on.
Clear fhone the skies, cool'd with eternal gales,
And balmy spirit all. The youthful fun
Shot his best rays, and ftill the gracious clouds
Drop'd fatnefs down; as o'er the swelling mead,
The herds and flocks, commixing, play'd secure.
This when, emergent from the gloomy wood,
The glaring lion faw, his horrid heart
Was meeken'd, and he join❜d his fullen joy.
For mufic held the whole in perfect peace:
Soft figh'd the flute; the tender voice was heard,
Warbling the varied heart; the woodlands round
Apply'd their quire; and winds and waters flow'd
In confonance. Such were those prime of days.
But now thofe white unblemish'd manners, whence
The fabling poets took their golden age,
Are found no more amid these iron times,
Thefe dregs of life! Now the diftemper'd mind
Has loft that concord of harmonious powers,
Which forms the foul of happiness; and all
Is off the poife within: the paffions all
Have burst their bounds; and reason, half extinct,
Or impotent, or else approving, fees

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