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Her folid grandeur rife: hence the commands
Th' exalted stores of every brighter clime,
The treasures of the fun without his rage:
Hence, fervent all, with culture, toil, and arts,
Wide glows her land: her dreadful thunder hence
Rides o'er the waves fublime, and now, ev'n now,
Impending hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coast;
Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world.
'Tis raging noon; and, vertical, the fun
Darts on the head direct his forceful rays.
O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye
Can fweep, a dazzling deluge reigns; and all
From pole to pole is undiftinguish'd blaze.
In vain the fight, dejected to the ground,
Stoops for relief; thence hot-afcending steams,
And keen reflection pain. Deep to the root
Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields
And flippery lawn an arid hue disclose,
Blaft Fancy's bloom, and wither ev❜n the foul.
Echo no more returns the chearful found
Of sharpening scythe: the mower finking heaps
O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfum'd; 445
And scarce a chirping grafs-hopper is heard

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Through the dumb mead. Distressful nature pants. The very streams look languid from afar ;

Or, through th' unfhelter'd glade, impatient feem
To hurl into the covert of the grove.

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All-conquering Heat, oh, intermit thy wrath!

And on my throbbing temples potent thus

Beam not fo fierce! Inceffant ftill you flow,

And

And ftill another fervent flood fucceeds,
Pour'd on the head profufe. In vain I figh,
And restless turn, and look around for night;
Night is far off; and hotter hours approach.
Thrice happy he! who, on the funless fide
Of a romantic mountain, forest-crown'd,
Beneath the whole collected fhade reclines:
Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought,
And fresh bedew'd with ever-fpouting ftreams,
Sits coolly calm; while all the world without,
Unfatisfied and fick, toffes in noon :

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Emblem inftructive of the virtuous man,

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Who keeps his temper'd mind ferene and pure,
And every paffion aptly harmoniz'd,

Amid a jarring world with vice inflam'd.

Welcome, ye fhades! ye bowery thickets, hail!

Ye lofty pines! ye venerable oaks !

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Ye afhes wild, refounding o'er the steep!

Delicious is your fhelter to the foul,

As to the hunted hart the fallying spring,

Or ftream full-flowing, that his fwelling fides

Laves, as he floats along the herbag'd brink.

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Cool, through the nerves, your pleafing comfort glides;

The heart beats glad; the fresh-expanded eye

And ear resume their watch; the finews knit;

And life shoots fwift through all the lighten❜d limbs. Around th' adjoining brook, that purls along

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The vocal grove, now fretting o'er a rock,
Now fcarcely moving through a reedy pool,
Now starting to a fudden ftream, and now

Gently

Gently diffus'd into a limpid plain;

A various groupe the herds and flocks compose,

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Rural confufion! on the graffy bank

Some ruminating lie; while others stand
Half in the flood, and, often bending, fip

The circling furface. In the middle droops
The ftrong laborious ox, of honest front,
Which incompos'd he shakes; and from his fides
The troublous infects lashes with his tail,
Returning ftill. Amid his fubjects safe,

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Slumbers the monarch-fwain; his careless arm
Thrown round his head, on downy mofs fuftain'd; 495
Here laid his fcrip, with wholesome viands fill'd;
There, listening every noise, his watchful dog.

Light fly his flumbers, if perchance a flight
Of angry gad-flies faften on the herd;

That ftartling fcatters from the shallow brook,
In fearch of lavish ftream. Toffing the foam,
They scorn the keeper's voice, and scour the plain,
Through all the bright feverity of noon;
While, from their labouring breasts, a hollow moan
Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills.

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Oft in this season too the horse, provok'd,
While his big finews full of fpirits fwell,
Trembling with vigour, in the heat of blood,
Springs the high fence; and, o'er the field effus'd,
Darts on the gloomy flood, with ftedfast eye,
And heart eftrang'd to fear: his nervous cheft,
Luxuriant, and erect! the feat of strength!
Bears down th' oppofing ftream: quenchless his thirst;

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He

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He takes the river at redoubled draughts;

And with wide noftrils, fnorting, skims the wave. 515
Still let me pierce into the midnight depth
Of yonder grove, of wildest largest growth:
That, forming high in air a woodland quire,
Nods o'er the mount beneath. At every step,
Solemn, and flow, the fhadows blacker fall,
And all is awful liftening gloom around.

These are the haunts of Meditation, these
The scenes where ancient bards th' infpiring breath,
Extatic, felt; and, from this world retir'd,
Convers'd with angels and immortal forms,

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On gracious errands bent: to fave the fall

Of virtue struggling on the brink of vice;

In waking whifpers, and repeated dreams,

To hint pure thought, and warn the favour'd foul
For future trials fated to prepare,

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Το prompt the poet, who devoted gives

His Mufe to better themes; to foothe the pangs

Of dying worth, and from the patriot's breast

(Backward to mingle in detefted war,

But foremost when engag'd) to turn the death;
And numberlefs fuch offices of love

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Daily, and nightly, zealous to perform.

Shook fudden from the bofom of the fky,

A thousand shapes or glide athwart the dusk,
Or ftalk majestic on. Deep-rous'd, I feel

A facred terror, a fevere delight,

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Creep through my mortal frame; and thus, methinks, A voice, than human more, th' abftracted ear

Of

Of fancy ftrikes. "Be not of us afraid,
"Poor kindred man! thy fellow-creatures, we
"From the fame Parent-Power our beings drew,
"The fame our Lord, and laws, and great purfuit.
"Once fome of us, like thee, through stormy life,
"Toil'd, tempeft-beaten, ere we could attain
"This holy calm, this harmony of mind,
"Where purity and peace immingle charms.
"Then fear not us; but with responsive song,
"Amid thefe dim receffes, undifturb'd
"By noify folly and discordant vice,

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"Of Nature fing with us, and Nature's God.

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"Here frequent, at the vifionary hour,

"When musing midnight reigns or filent noon,

"Angelic harps are in full concert heard,

"And voices chaunting from the wood-crown'd hill,

"The deepening dale, or inmoft fylvan glade :

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"A privilege bestow'd by us, alone,

"On Contemplation, or the hallow'd ear "Of Poet, fwelling to feraphic ftrain."

And art thou, Stanley, of that facred band?

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Alas, for us too foon! Though rais'd above
The reach of human pain, above the flight
Of human joy; yet, with a mingled ray
Of fadly-pleas'd remembrance, must thou feel
A mother's love, a mother's tender woe:
Who feeks thee ftill, in many a former fcene;
Seeks thy fair form, thy lovely beaming eyes,

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* A young lady, who died at the age of eighteen, in the year 1738. See her epitaph in Vol. II.

Thy

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