WHILE, orient skies reftóre the day,

And dew-drops catch the lucid ray 3

Amid the sprightly scenes of morn,

Will aught the muse inspire?
Oh! peace to yonder clamorous horn
That drowns the facred lyre!

Ye rural thanes that o'er the moffy down
Some panting, timorous hare purfue;
Does nature mean your joys alone to crown?
Say, does the smoothe her lawns for you?
For you does echo bid the rocks reply,

And urg'd by rude constraint resound the jovial cry?

See

See from the neighbouring hill, forlorn
The wretched fwain your fport furvey;
He finds his faithful fences torn,

He finds his labour'd crops a prey;

He fees his flock-no more in circles feed;
Haply beneath your ravage bleed,

And with no random curfes loads the deed.

Nor yet, ye fwains, conclude

That nature fmiles for you alone;

Your bounded fouls, and your conceptions crude, The proud, the selfish boast disown:

Yours be the produce of the foil;

O may it still reward your toil !
Nor ever the defenceless train

Of clinging infants, ask support in vain!

But tho' the various harveft gild your plains,

Does the mere landscape feast
your eye?
Or the warm hope of diftant gains
Far other cause of glee fupply?
Is not the red-streak's future juice
The fource of your delight profound,
Where Ariconium pours her gems profuse,
Purpling a whole horizon round?

Athirst ye praise the limpid stream, 'tis true:
But tho', the pebbled fhores among,

It mimic no unpleafing fong,

The limpid fountain murmurs not for you.

Unpleas'd ye fee the thickets bloom,
Unpleas'd the spring her flowery robe resume;
Unmov'd the mountain's airy pile,

The dappled mead without a smile.
O let a rural conscious mufe,

For well she knows, your froward sense accuse : Forth to the folemn oak you bring the fquare, And span the maffy trunk, before you cry, 'tis fair.

Nor yer ye learn'd, nor yet ye courtly train,
If haply from your haunts ye ftray
To waste with us a fummer's day,
Exclude the taste of every fwain,
Nor our untutor'd fenfe difdain:
'Tis nature only gives exclusive right
To relish her fupreme delight;

She, where the pleases kind or coy,
Who furnishes the fcene, and forms us to enjoy.

Then hither bring the fair ingenuous mind,
By her aufpicious aid refin'd;

Lo! not an hedge-row hawthorn blows,
Or humble hare-bell paints the plain,

Or valley winds, or fountain flows,

Or purple heath is ting'd in vain :
For fuch the rivers dafh their foaming tides,
The mountain fwells, the dale fubfides;

Ev'n thriftless furze detains their wandering fight,

And the rough barren rock grows pregnant with delight.

With

With what fufpicious fearful care

The fordid wretch fecures his claim,

If haply fome luxurious heir

Should alienate the fields that wear his name! What fcruples left some future birth

Should litigate a span of earth!

Bonds, contracts, feoffments, names unmeet for profe,
The towering muse endures not to disclose;
Alas! her unrevers'd decree,

More comprehensive and more free,

Her lavish charter, tafte, appropriates all we fee,

Let gondolas their painted flags unfold,
And be the folemn day enroll❜d,
When, to confirm his lofty plea,
In nuptial fort, with bridal gold,
The

grave Venetian weds the fea : Each laughing mufe derides the vow;

Ev'n ADRIA fcorns the mock embrace,
To fome lone hermit on the mountain's brow,
Allotted, from his natal hour,

With all her myrtle fhores in dow'r.
His breast to admiration prone

Enjoys the fmile upon her face,
Enjoys triumphant every grace,
And finds her more his own.

Fatigu'd