who the sweets of rural live have known, Defpife th' ungrateful hurry of the town; ̈ndfor groves your eafy hours employ, In Wi Aurb'd, yourself and Mufe enjoy. to thy ftrains, and filent flows, And no rude wind through rufting offers blows; While all his wondering nymphs around thee throng,

Thames liftens

To hear the Syrens warble in thy fong.

But I, who ne'er was bleft by Fortune's hand,
Nor brighten'd ploughshares in paternal and,
Long in the noisy town have been immur'd,
Refpir'd its fmoke, and all its cares endur'd';'
Where news and politics divide mankind,
And schemes of ftate involve th' uneasy mind;
Faction embroils the world; and every tongue
Is mov'd by flattery, or with scandal hung:
Friendship, for fylvan fhades, the palace flies,
Where all must yield to intereft's dearer ties :
Each rival Machiavel with envy burns,
And Honesty forsakes them all by turn's;
While calumny upon each party's thrown,
Which both promote, and botli alike disown.
Fatigu'd at laft, a calm retreat I chofe,

And the fame road ambitiously purfue,
Frequented by the Mantuan fwain and you.
'Tis not that rural sports alone invite,
But all the grateful country breathes delight;
Here blooming health exerts her gentle reign,
And strings the finews of th' induftrious swain.
Soon as the morning lark falutes the day,
Through dewy fields I take my frequent way,
Where I behold the farmer's early care
In the revolving labours of the year.

30

35

When the fresh Spring in all her ftate is crown'd,
And high luxuriant grafs o'erspreads the ground, 40
The labourer with a bending fcythe is feen,
Shaving the furface of the waving green;
Of all her native pride difrobes the land,

And meads lays wafte before his fweeping hand;
While with the mounting fun the meadow glows, 45
The fading herbage round he loosely throws:
But, if fome fign portend a lasting shower,
Th' experienc'd fwain forefees the coming hour;
His fun-burnt hands the feattering fork forfake,
And ruddy damfels ply the faving rake;

50

10 In rifing hills the fragrant harveft grows,
And fpreads along the field in equal rows.
Now when the height of heaven bright Phoebus
gains,

55

And leve, rays cleave wide the thirsty plains,
15 When heifers feek the fhade and cooling lake,
And in the middle path-way basks the fake;
O lead me, guard me from the fultry hours,
Hide me, ye forefts, in your closeft bowers,
Where the tall oak his fpreading arms entwines;
20 And with the beech a mutual fhade combines; 60
Where flows the murmuring brook, inviting dreams,
Where bordering hazle overhangs the streams,
Whofe rolling current, winding round and round,
With frequent falls makes all the wood refound;
Upon the moffy couch my limbs I cast,
And e'en at noon the sweets of evening taste.
Here I peruse the Mantuan's Georgic strains,
And learn the labours of Italian fwains
In every page I see new landscapes rife,
And all Hefperia opens to my eyes;

And footh'd my harafs'd mind with fweet repofe,

Where fields and shades, and the refreshing clime,
25

Infpire the fylvan fong, and prompt my rhyme.
My Mufe fhall rove through flowery meads and
plains,
And deck with Rural Sports her native strains;
*This poem received many material corrections
from the Author after it was first published.

I wander o'er the various rural toil,
And know the nature of each different foil:
This waving field is gilded o'er with corn,
That fpreading trees with blufning fruit adorn:

65

70

Here

Here I furvey the purple vintage grow,
Climb round the poles and rife in graceful row:
Now I behold the fteed curvet and bound,
And paw with reflefs hoof the fmoking ground:
The dewlap'd bull now chafes along the plain,
While burning love ferments in every vein;
His well-arm'd front against his rival aims,
And by the dint of war his miftrefs claims:
The careful infect 'midft his works I view,
-Now from the flowers exhauft the fragrant dew;
With golden treasures load his little thighs,
And fteer his diftant journey through the skies;
Some against hoftile drones the hive defend,
Others with fweets the waxen cells diftend;
Each in the toil his deftin'd office bears,
And in the little bulk a mighty foul appears.

75

When floating clouds their spongy fleeces drain,
Troubling the fireams with fwift-defcending rain;
And waters tumbling down the mountain's fide,
Bear the loofe foil into the fwelling tide;
Then foon as vernal gales begin to rife,

80 And drive the liquid burthen through the skies, 140
The fifher to the neighbouring current speeds,
Whofe rapid furface purls unknown to weeds!
Upon a rifing border of the brook

85

Or when the ploughman leaves the task of day,
And trudging homeward whistles on the way:
When the big-udder'd cows with patience ftand,
Waiting the ftroakings of the d'amfel's hand;
No warbling cheers the woods; the feather'd choir,
To court kind fl-mbers, to the,fprays retire;
When no rude gale disturbs the fleeping trees,
Nor afpen leaves confefs the gentleft breeze;
Engag'd in thought, to Neptune's bounds I ftray,
To take my farewell of the parting day;
Far in the deep the fun his glory hides,
A freak of gold the fea, and fky divides:
The purple clouds their amber linings fhow,
And edg'd with flame rolls every wave below:
Here penfive I behold the fading light,
And o'er the diftant billow lofe my fight.

He fits him down, and ties the treacherous hook;
Now expectation cheers his eager thought,

His bofom glows with treasures yet uncaught,

Pefore his eyes a banquet feems to ftand,

Where every gueft applauds his skilful hand.
Far up the ftream the twifted hair he throws
Which down the murmuring current gently flow
When, or if chance or hunger's powerful fway
Directs the roving trout this fatal way,
He greedily fucks in the twining bait,
And tugs and nibbles the falacious meat;
Now happy fisherman, now twich the line!
How thy rod bends! behold, the prize is thine!
Caft on the bank, he dies with gasping pains,
And trickling blood his filver mail diftains.

145

155

You must not every worm promifcuous ufe,
100 Judgment will tell the proper bait to choose :
The worm that draws a long immoderate fize
The trout abhors, and the rank morfel flies;
And if too fmall, the naked fraud's in fight,
And fear forbids, while hunger does invite.
105 Thofe baits will beft reward the fisher's pains, 165
Whofe polifh'd tails a fhining yellow stains:
Cleanfe them from filth, to give a tempting glofs,
Cherish the fully'd reptile race with mofs;
Amid the verdant bed they twine they toil,
And from their bodies wipe their native foil.
But when the fun difplays his glorious beams,
And fhallow rivers flow with filver ftreams,
Then the deceit the fcaly breed furvey,
Bafk in the fun, and look into the day:
You now a more delusive art must try,
And tempt their hunger with the curious fly.
To frame the little animal, provide
All the gay hues that wait on female pride;
Let nature guide thee; fometimes golden wire
120, The fhining bellies of the fly require;

Now Night in filent state begins to rite,
And twinkling orbs beftrow th' uncloudy skies;
Her borrow'd luftre growing Cynthia lends,
And on the main a glittering path extends;
Millions of worlds bang in the spacious air,
Which round their funs their annual circles fteer;
Sweet contemplation elevates my fenfe,
While I furvey the works of Providence.
O could the Mufe in loftier ftrains rehearse

110

115

The glorious Author of the univerfe,
Who reins the winds, gives the vaft ocean bounds,
And circumfcribes the floating worlds their rounds;
My foul should overflow in fongs of praise,
And my Creator's name inspire my lays!

170

175

185

The peacock's plumes thy tackle must not fa
Nor the dear purchase of the fable's tail,
Each gaudy bird fome flender tribute brings,
And lends the growing infect proper wings:
125 Silks of all colours must their aid impart.
And every fur promote the fisher's art.
So the gay lady, with expensive care
Borrows the pride of land, of fea, of air:
Furs, pearls, and plumes, the glittering thing difplays
Dazzles our eyes, and eafy hearts betrays.
190

As in fucceffive courfe the feafons rell,
So circling pleasures recreate the foul,
When genial Spring a living warmth beftows,
And o'er the year her verdant mantle throws,
No fwelling innundation hides the grounds,
But crystal currents glide within their bounds;
The finny brood their wonted haunts forfake,
Float in the fun, and skim along the lake;
With frequent leap they range the fhallow ftreams,
Their filver coats reflect the dazzling beams,
Now let the fisherman his toils prepare,
And arm himself with every watery fnare;
His hooks, his lines, perufe with careful eye,
Increase his tackle, and his rod re-tye.
VOL. VII.

130

Mark well the various feafons of the year,
How the fucceeding infe&t race appear;
In this revolving moon one colour reigns,
Which in the next the fickle trout difdains.

Z z

"

195Or let the gin his roving fteps betray,
And fave from hoftile jaws the fcaly prey.

I never wander where the bordering reeds
O'erlook the muddy stream, whose tangling weeds

Perplex the fifher; I nor choose to bear
The thievith nightly net, nor barbed fpear;
Nor drain I ponds, the golden carp to take,

| Nor troll for pikes, difpeaplers of the lake ;
Around the fteel no tortur'd worm shall twine, 265
No blood of living infect stain my line.

Let me, lefs cruel, caft the feather'd hook
With pliant rod athwart the pebbled brook.
Silent along the mazy margin stray,

And with the fur-wrought fly delude the prey 270

Leave the clear ftreams awile for funny plains. Should you the various arms and toils rehearso, 225 And all the fisherman adorn thy verse;

Should you the wide encircling net display, And in its spacious arch inclose the fea; Then haul the plunging load upon the land, And with the foal and turbot hide the fand 230 It would extend the growing theme too long, And tire the reader with the watry song.

Let the keen hunter from the chace refrain, Nor tender all the ploughman's labour vain, When Ceres pours out plenty from her horn, 235 And clothes the fields with golden ears of corn.

305

To fweet repaft th' unwary partridge flies,
With joy amid the scatter'd harvest lies;
Wandering in plenty danger he forgets,
Nor dreads the flavery of entangling nets.
The fubtle dog fcours with fagacious nofe
Along the field, and snuffs each breeze that blows;

565

But ftill the chace, a pleafing task, remains
The hound muft open in thefe rural strains.*
Soon as Aurora drives away the night,
And edges eaftern clouds with rofy light,
The healthy huntsman, with the chearful horn.
Summons the dogs, and greets the dappled morn;
310 The jocund thunder wakes the enliven'd hounds,
They rouze from fleep and answer founds for
founds;

Against the wind he takes his prudent way,
While the ftrong gale directs him to the prey;
Now the warm fcent affures the covey near,
He treads with caution, and he points with fear;
Then (left fome fentry-fowl the fraud defcry, 315
And bid his fellows from the danger fly)
Clofe to the ground in expectation lies,
Till in the fnare the fluttering covey rife.
Soon as the blufhing light begins to spread,
And glancing Phoebus gilds the mountain's

Wide through the furzy field their rout they take,
370

Their bleeding bofoms force the thorny brake:
The flying game their smoking noftrils trace,
No bounding hedge obftructs their eager pace;
The diftant mountains echo from afar,

And hanging woods refound the flying war: 375
head, The tuneful noife the fprightly courfer hears,
320 Paws the green turf, and pricks his trembling ears;
The flacken'd rein now gives him all his speed,
Back flies the rapid ground beneath the steed;
Hills, dales and forefts, far behind remain, 380
While the warm fcent draws on the deep-mouth'd
train

325

His early flight th' ill-fated partridge takes,
And quits the friendly fhelter of the brakes.
Or, when the fun cafts a declining ray,
And drives his chariot down the western way,
Let your obfequious ranger fearch around,
Where yellow ftubble withers on the ground:
Nor will the roving spy direct in vain,
But numerous coveys gratify thy pain.
When the meridian fun contracts the fhade,
And frifking heifers feek the cooling glade;
Or when the country floats with fudden rains,
Or driving mifts deface the moistened plains;
In vain his toils th' unfkilful fowler tries,
While in thick woods the feeding partridge lies.
Nor muft the sporting verfe the gun forbear, 335
Eut what's the Fowier's be the Mufes' care.
See how the well-taught pointer leads the way:
The fcent grows warm-he ftops-he fprings the

prey;

330

The fluttering coveys from the stubble rife,
Aud on fwift wing divide the founding fkies; 340
The scattering lead purfues the certain fight,
And death in thunder overtakes their flight.
Cool breathes the morning air, and Winter's hand
Spreads wide her hoary mantle o'er the land;
Now to the copfe the lesser spaniel take,
Teach him to range the ditch, and force the brake;
Not clofeft coverts can protect the game:
Hark! the dog opens: take thy certain aitn.
The woodcock flutters: how he wavering flies!
The wood refunds: he wheels, he drops, he dies.
350

The towering hawk let future poets fing,
Who terror bears upon his foaring wing:
Let them on high the frighted hern furvey,
And lofty numbers paint their airy fray.

Where fhall the trembling hare a fhelter find?
Hark! death advances in each gust of wind!
New ftratagems and doubling wiles the tries,
Now circling turns, and now at large fhe flies;
385
Till, fpent at laft, fhepants and heaves for breath,
Then lays her down, and waits devouring death.
But flay, adventurous Mufe! haft thou the force
To wind the twisted horn, to guide the horse?
To keep thy feat unmov'd, haft thou the skill, 390
O'er the high gate, and down the headlong hill?
Canft thou the ftag's laborious chace direct,
Or the strong fox through all his arts detect?
The theme demands a more experienc'd lay:
Ye mighty hunters! fpare this weak effay.

395

O happy plains, remote from wars alarms,
And all the ravages of hoftile arms!
And happy fhepherds, who, fecure from fear,
On open downs preferve your fleecy care!
Whofe fpacious barns groan with increasing store,

400

345
And whirling flails disjoint the cracking floor!
No barbarous foldier, bent on cruel spoil,
Spreads defolation o'er your fertile foil;
No trampling fteed lays waste the ripen'd grain,
Nor crackling fires devour the promis'd gain: 405
No flaming beacons caft their blaze afar,
The dreadful fignal of invasive war :
No trumpet's clangor wounds the mother's ear,
And calls the lover from his fwooning fair.

What happiness the rural maid attends,
In cheerful labour while each day the spends!
She gratefully receives what heaven has feut,

Nor fhall the mounting lark the Mufe detain, 355
That greets the morning with his early strain :
When, 'midst his fong, the twinkling glafs be-And, rich in poverty, enjoys content.

trays,

While from each angle flash the glancing rays,
And in the fun the tranfient colours blaze,
Pride lures the little warbler from the fkies:
The light-enamoured bird deluded dies.

410

(Such happiness, and fuch unblemish'd fame, Ne'er glad the bofom of the courtly dame): 415 She never feels the spleen's imagin'd pains,

360 Nor melancholy stagnates in her veins;

Her home-spun dress in simple neatness lies,
And for no glaring equipage the fighs:
'Her reputation, which is all her boaft,
In a malicious vifit ne'er was loft;

No midnight masquerade her beauty wears,
And health, not point, the feading bloom re-
pairs.
425

25

420 Where breathin sweets from every field afcend,
And the wild woods with golden apples bend. 2a
Yet let me in fome odorous fhade repose,
Whilft in my verfe the fair palmetto grows:
Like the tall pine it fhoots its ftately head;
From the broad top depending branches fpread;
No knotty limbs the taper body bears;
Hung on each bough a single leaf appears,
Which, fhrivel'd in its infancy, remains
Like a clos'd fan, nor ftretches wide its veins,.
But, as the feafons in their circle run,
Opes its ribb'd furface to the nearer fun;
Beneath this fhade the weary peafant lies,
Plucks the broad leaf, and bids the breezes rife.
Stay, wandering Mufe! nor rove in foreign
climes;

If love's foft paffion in her bofom reign,
An equal paffion warms her happy fwain;
No homebred jars her quiet ftate control,
Nor watchful jealoufy torments her foul;
With fecret joy fhe fees her little race 430
Hang on her breaft, and her fmall cottage grace;
The fleecy ball their bufy fingers cull,

Or from the spindle draw the lengthening wool:
Thus flow her hours with conftant peace of
mind,

Till age the latest thread of life unwind.

435

Ye happy fields, unknown to noife and ftrife,
The kind rewarders of induftricus life;
Ye fhady woods, where once I us' to rove,
Allke indulgent to the Mufe and Love;
Ye murmuring fireams that in meanders roll, 440
The fweet compofers of the penfive foul;
Farewel! The city calls me from your bowers:
Farewel, amusing thoughts and peaceful hours!

SING that graceful toy, whofe waving play
With gentle gales relieves the fultry day;
Not the wide fan by Perfian bames difplay'd,
Which o'er their beauty cafts a grateful fhade;
Nor that long known in China's artful land,
Which, while it cools the face, fatigues the hand.
Nor fhall the Mufe in Afian climates rove,
To feek in Indoftan fome spicy grove,
Where ftretch'd at cafe, the panting lady lies,
To fhun the fervor of merian fkics,
While fweating flaves catch every breeze of air,
And with wide-fpreading fans refresh the fair;
No baly gnats her pleafing dreams moleft,
Inflame her cheek, or ravage o'er her breaft;
But artificial zephyrs round her fly,
And mitigate the fever of the fky.

Nor fhall Bermudas long the Mufe detain,
Whofe fragrant forests bloom in Waller's ftrain,

30

35

To thy own native fhore confine thy rhymes.
Affift, ye Nine, your loftieft notes employ;
Say what celeftial fkill contriv'd the toy;
Say how this inftrument of Love began,
And in immortal trains difplay the Fan.
Strephon had long confefs'd his amorous pain,
Which gay Corinna rallied with difdain:
Sometimes in broken words he figh'd hiscare,
Look'd pale, and trembled when he view'd the fair;
With bolder freedoms now the youth advanc'd,
He drets'd, he laugh'd, he fung, he rhym'd, he
danc'd;

40

45

50

Now call'd more powerful prefents to his aid,
And, to feduce the miftrefs, brib'd the maid;
Smooth flattery in her fofter hours apply'd,
The fureft charm to bend the force of pride;
But ftill unmov'd remains the fcornful dame,
Infults her captive, and derides his flame
When Strephon faw his vows difpers'd in air,
He fought in folitude to lofe his care;
Relief in folitude he fought in vain,
It ferv'd, like mufick, but to feed his pain.
To Venus now the flighted boy complains,
And calls the Goddefs in thefe tender ftrains:
O potelt Queen! from Neptune's empire
fprung,

55

Whofe glorious birth admiring Nereids fung,
5Who 'midft the fragrant plains of Cyprus rove,
Whofe radiant prefence gilds the Paphian grove, 60
Where to thy name a thoufand altars fe,
And curling clouds of incenfe hide the fkics:
O beauteous Goddefs! teach me how to move,
Infpire my tongue with eloquence of lovo!
If loft Adonis e'er thy bofom warm'd,
If e'er his eyes or godlike figure chara'd,
Think on thofe hours when firft you felt the dart,
Think on the restlefs fever of thy heart;

15 Think how you pine in abfence of the fwain:
By thofe uneafy minutes know my pain.
Ev'n while Cydippe to Diana bows,
And at her fhrine renews her virgin vows,

65

73