Parental love at once, now needlefs grown. Unlavish Wisdom never works in vain.
'Tis on fome evening, funny, grateful, mild,
When nought but balm is breathing through the woods, With yellow luftre bright, that the new tribes Vifit the fpacious heavens, and look abroad On nature's common, far as they can see,
Or wing, their range and pasture. O'er the boughs Dancing about, ftill at the giddy verge
Their refolution fails; their pinions still, In loofe libration stretch'd, to truft the void Trembling refuse: till down before them fly The parent-guides, and chide, exhort, command, Or push them off. The furging air receives Its plumy burden; and their self-taught wings Winnow the waving element. On ground
Alighted, bolder up again they lead,
Farther and farther on, the lengthening flight; Till, vanifh'd every fear, and every power Rouz'd into life and action, light in air Th' acquitted parents fee their foaring race, And once rejoicing never know them more. High from the fummit of a craggy cliff, Hung o'er the deep, fuch as amazing frowns On utmost Kilda's fhore, whose lonely race Refign the fetting fun to Indian worlds, The royal eagle draws his vigorous young, Strong-pounc'd, and ardent with paternal fire.
The fartheft of the western iflands of Scotland.
Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own, He drives them from his fort, the towering feat, For ages, of his empire; which, in Unftain'd he holds, while many a league to fea He wings his course, and preys in distant isles. Should I my steps turn to the rural feat,
Whose lofty elms, and venerable oaks,
Invite the rook, who high amid the boughs, In early Spring, his airy city builds,
And ceafelefs caws amufive; there, well-pleas'd, I might the various polity furvey
Of the mixt houfhold kind.
Calls all her chirping family around,
Fed and defended by the fearless cock;
Whofe breaft with ardour flames, as on he walks, Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond, The finely-checker'd duck, before her train, Rows garrulous. The stately-failing swan Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale; And, arching proud his neck, with oary feet Bears forward fierce, and guards his ofier-ifle, Protective of his young. The turkey nigh, Loud-threatening reddens; while the peacock spreads His every-colour'd glory to the fun,
And fwims in radiant majesty along.
O'er the whole homely scene, the cooing dove
Flies thick in amorous chace, and wanton rolls The glancing eye, and turns the changeful neck. 785 While thus the gentle tenants of the shade
Indulge their purer loves, the rougher world
Of brutes, below, rush furious into flame, And fierce defire. Through all his lufty veins The bull, deep-fcorch'd, the raging paffion feels. Of pasture sick, and negligent of food, Scarce feen, he wades among the yellow broom, While o'er his ample fides the rambling sprays Luxuriant fhoot; or through the mazy wood Dejected wanders, nor th' inticing bud Crops, though it preffes on his careless fenfe. And oft. in jealous maddening fancy wrapt, He feeks the fight; and, idly-butting, feigns His rival gor❜d in every knotty trunk.
Him should he meet, the bellowing war begins : Their eyes flash fury; to the hollow'd earth, Whence the fand flies, they mutter bloody deeds, And, groaning deep, th' impetuous battle mix: While the fair heifer, balmy breathing, near, Stands kindling up their rage. The trembling fteed, With this hot impulfe feiz'd in every nerve, Nor heeds the rein, nor hears the founding thong; Blows are not felt; but, toffing high his head, And by the well-known joy to distant plains Attracted strong, all wild he bursts away; O'er rocks, and woods, and craggy mountains flies: And, neighing, on th' aërial fummit takes Th' exciting gale; then, fteep-defcending, cleaves The headlong torrents foaming down the hills, Ev'n where the madness of the straiten'd ftream Turns in black eddies round; fuch is the force With which his frantic heart and finews fwell.
Nor undelighted by the boundless Spring Are the broad monsters of the foaming deep :
From the deep ooze and gelid cavern rous'd,
They flounce and tumble in unwieldy joy. Dire were the ftrain, and dissonant, to fing The cruel raptures of the favage kind :
How by this flame their native wrath sublim'd,
They roam, amid the fury of their heart,
The far-refounding waste in fiercer bands,
And growl their horrid loves. But this the theme I fing, enraptur'd, to the British Fair, Forbids, and leads me to the mountain-brow, Where fits the fhepherd on the graffy turf, Inhaling, healthful, the defcending fun. Around him feeds his many-bleating flock, Of various cadence; and his fportive lambs, This way and that convolv'd, in friskful glee, Their frolicks play. And now the sprightly race Invites them forth; when fwift, the fignal given, They start away, and sweep the massy mound
That runs around the hill; the rampart once
Of iron war, in ancient barbarous times,
When difunited Britain ever bled,
Loft in eternal broil: ere yet fhe grew
To this deep-laid indissoluble state,
Where Wealth and Commerce lift their golden heads;
And o'er our labours, Liberty and Law, Impartial, watch; the wonder of a world!
What is this mighty Breath, ye fages, fay, That, in a powerful language, felt, not heard,
Instructs the fowls of heaven; and through their breast Thefe arts of love diffuses? What, but God?
Infpiring God! who boundless Spirit all, And unremitting Energy, pervades, Adjusts, sustains, and agitates the whole.
Chief, lovely Spring, in thee, and thy foft fcenes, The Smiling God is feen; while water, earth,
And air, attest his bounty; which exalts The brute creation to this finer thought, And annual melts their undesigning hearts Profufely thus in tenderness and joy.
Still let my fong a nobler note affume, And fing th' infufive force of Spring on Man; When heaven and earth, as if contending, vye To raise his being, and ferene his foul. Can he forbear to join the general smile
Of Nature? Can fierce paffions vex his breast, While every gale is peace, and every grove Is melody? Hence! from the bounteous walks Of flowing Spring, ye fordid fons of earth, Hard, and unfeeling of another's woe; Or only lavish to yourselves; away!
But come, ye generous minds, in whose wide thought, Of all his works, creative Bounty burns.
With warmest beam; and on your open front
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