THE

T

A S

K.

BOOK V.

ARGUMENT of the FIFTH BOOK.

Afrofty morning.-The foddering of cattle.-The woodman and his dog.-The poultry.-Whimsical effects of froft at a waterfall.-The Empress of Ruffia's palace of ice.-Amusements of monarchs.-War one of them.-Wars, whence.-And whence monarchy. -The evils of it.-English and French loyalty contrafted.-The Baftile, and a prifoner there.-Liberty the chief recommendation of this country.—Modern patriotism questionable, and why.-The perishable nature of the best human inftitutions. - Spiritual liberty not perishable.-The flavish state of man by nature.-Deliver him, Deift, if you can.-Grace muft do it. The refpective merits of patriots and martyrs ftated. -Their different treatment. — Happy freedom of the man whom grace makes free.-His relifh of the works of God.-Address to the Cre

ator.

THE

T A

S K.

BOOK V.

THE WINTER MORNING WALK.

IS morning; and the fun with ruddy orb

Afcending fires the horizon. While the clouds

That crowd away before the driving wind,

More ardent as the disk emerges more,

Resemble most some city in a blaze,

Seen through the leaflefs wood. His flanting ray

Slides ineffectual down the fnowy vale,

And tinging all with his own rofy hue,

From ev'ry herb and ev'ry spiry blade
Stretches a length of fhadow o'er the field.
Mine, fpindling into longitude immense,

In fpite of gravity and fage remark
That I myself am but a fleeting fhade,
Provokes me to a fmile. With eye afkance
I view the muscular proportioned limb
Transformed to a lean fhank. The fhapeless pair
As they designed to mock me, at my fide
Take step for step, and as I near approach
The cottage, walk along the plaifter'd wall
Prepoft'rous fight! the legs without the man.
The verdure of the plain lies buried deep
Beneath the dazzling deluge, and the bents
And coarfer grafs upfpearing o'er the rest,
Of late unfightly and unfeen, now shine
Confpicuous, and in bright apparel clad
And fledged with icy feathers, nod fuperb.
The cattle mourn in corners where the fence
Screens them, and feem half petrified to sleep
In unrecumbent fadnefs. There they wait
Their wonted fodder, not like hung'ring man
Fretful if unfupplied, but filent, meek,

And

And patient of the flow-paced fwain's delay.

He from the ftack carves out th' accustomed load, Deep plunging and again deep plunging oft

His broad keen knife into the folid mass.

Smooth as a wall the upright remnant ftands,
With fuch undeviating and even force
He fevers it away. No needlefs care,
Left ftorms fhould overfet the leaning pile
Deciduous, or its own unbalanced weight.
Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconcerned
The cheerful haunts of man, to wield the axe
And drive the wedge in yonder forest drear,
From morn to eve his folitary task.

Shaggy and lean and fhrewd, with pointed ears
And tail cropp'd short, half lurcher and half cur
His dog attends him. Clofe behind his heel
Now creeps he flow, and now with many a frisk
Wide-fcampering fnatches up the drifted fnow
With iv'ry teeth, or ploughs it with his fnout;
Then shakes his powder'd coat and barks for joy.
Heedlefs

N 4