To rear their graces into second life;
To give Society its highest taste.;

Well-ordered Home Man's best delight to make;
And by submissive wisdom, modest skill,
With every gentle care-eluding art,

To raise the virtues, animate the bliss
And sweeten, all the toils of human life :
This be the female dignity, and praise.

Ye swains, now hasten to the hazel-bank ;
Where, down yon dále, the wildly winding brookl
Falls hoarse from steep to steep. In close array,
Fit for the thickets and the tangling shrub,
Ye virgins come. For you their latest song
The woodlands raise; the clustering nuts for you'
The lover finds amid the secret shade ;

And, where they burnish on the topmost bough,
With active vigour crushes down the tree; E
Or shakes them ripe from the resigning husk,
A glossy shower, and of an ardent brown,
As are the ringlets of MELINDA's hair:
MELINDA! form'd with every grace complete,
Yet these neglecting, above beauty wise,
And far transcending such a vulgar praise.
HENCE from the busy joy-resounding fields,
In chearful error, let us tread the maze
Of Autumn, unconfin'd; and taste, reviv'd,
The breath of orchard big with bending fruit.
Obedient to the breeze and beating ray,
From the deep-loaded bough a mellow shower
Incessant melts away. The juicy pear
Lies, in a soft profusion, scattered round,

:

The rural youth and virgins o'er the field,
Each fond for each to cull th' autumnal prime,
Exulting rove, and speak the vintage nigh.
Then comes the crushing swain; the country floats,
And foams unbounded with the mashy flood;
That by degrees fermented, and refin'd,
Round the rais'd nation pours the cup of joy
The Claret smooth, red as the lip we press
In sparkling fancy, while we drain the bowl;
The mellow-tasted Burgundy; and quick,
As is the wit it gives, the gay Champaign.
Now, by the cool declining year condens'd,
Descend the copious exhalations, check'd
As up the middle sky unseen they stole,
And roll the doubling fogs around the hill.
No more the mountain, horrid, vast, sublime,
Who pours a sweep of rivers from his sides,
And high between contending kingdoms rears
The rocky long division, fills the view
With great variety; but in a night

Of gathering vapour, from the baffled sense
Sinks dark and dreary. Thence expanding far,
The huge dusk, gradual, swallows up the plain :
Vanish the woods; the dim-seen river seems
Sullen, and slow, to roll the misty wave.
Even in the height of noon opprest, the sun
Sheds weak, and blunt, his wide-refracted ray;
Whence glaring oft, with many a broadened orb,
He frights the nations. Indistinct on earth,
Seen thro' the turbid air, beyond the life
Objects appear; and, wilder'd, o'er the waste

The shepherd stalks gigantic. Till at last
Wreath'd dun around, in deeper circles still
Successive closing, sits the general fog
Unbounded o'er the world; and, mingling thick,
A formless grey confussion covers all.

As when of old (so sung the Hebrew Bard)
Light, uncollected, thro' the chaos urg’d
Its infant way; nor Order yet had drawn
His lovely train from out the dubious gloom.
These roving mists, that constant now begin
To smoak along the hilly country, these,
With weighty rains, and melted Alpine snows,
The mountain-cisterns fill, those ample stores
Of water, scoop'd among the hollow rocks;
Whence gush the streams, the ceaseless fountains play,
And their unfailing wealth the rivers draw.
Some sages say, that, where the numerous wave
For ever lashes the resounding shore,
Drill'd thro' the sandy stratum, every way,
The waters with the sandy stratum rise;
Amid whose angles infinitely strain'd,
They joyful leave their jaggy salts behind,
And clear and sweeten, as they soak along.
Nor stops the restless fluid, mounting still,
Though oft amidst th' irriguous vale it springs;
But to the mountain courted by the sand,
That leads it darkling on in faithful maze.
Far from the parent-main, it boils again
Fresh into day; and all the glittering hill
Is bright with spouting rills. But hence this vain
Amusive dream! why should the waters love

Second Part.

B

To take so far a journey to the hills,

When the sweet valleys offer to their toil
Inviting quiet, and a nearer bed?

Or if, by blind ambition led astray,

They must aspire; why should they sudden stop
Among the broken mountain's rushy dells,

And, ere they gain its highest peak,

desert

Th' attractive sand that charm'd their course so long? Besides, the hard agglomerating salts, The spoil of ages, would impervious choak Their secret channels; or, by slow degrees, High as the hills protrude the swelling vales : Old Ocean too, suck'd thro' the porous globe, Had long ere now forsook his horrid bed, And brought Deucalion's watry times again. Say then, where lurk the vast eternal springs; That, like CREATING NATURE, lie conceal'd From mortal eye, yet with their lavish stores Refresh the globe, and all its joyous tribes ? O thou pervading Genius, given to Man, To trace the secrets of the dark abyss, O lay the mountains bare! and wide display Their hidden structure to th' astonish'd view! Strip from the branching Alps their piny load; The huge incumbrance of horrific woods From Asian Taurus, from Imaus stretch'd Athwart the roving Tartar's sullen bounds! Give opening Hemus to my searching eye, And high Olympus pouring many a stream! O from the sounding summits of the north, The Dofrine Hills, thro' Scandanavia roll'd

To farthest Lapland and the frozen main;
From lofty Caucasus, far-seen by those
Who in the Caspian and black Euxine toil;
From cold Riphean Rocks, which the wild Russ
Believes the (1) stony girdle of the world;
And all the dreadful mountains wrapt in storm,
Whence wide Siberia draws her lonely floods;
0 sweep
th' eternal snows! Hung o'er the deep,
That ever works beneath his sounding base,
Bid Atlas, propping heaven, as Poets feign,
His subterranean wonders spread! unveil
The miny caverns, blazing on the day,
Of Abyssinia's cloud compelling cliffs

And of the bending (2) Mountains of the Moon!
O'ertopping all these giant-sons of earth,
Let the dire Andes, from the radiant Line
Stretch'd to the stormy seas that thunder round
The southern pole, their hideous deeps unfold!
Amazing scene! Behold! the glooms disclose,
I see the rivers in their infant beds!`
Deep, deep I hear them, lab'ring to get free!
I see the leaning strata, artful rang'd;
The gaping fissures to receive the rains,
The melting snows, and ever-dripping fogs.
Strow'd bibulous above I see the sands,
The pebbly gravel next, the layers then
Of mingled moulds, of more retentive earths,

(1) The Moscovites call the Riphean Mountains Weliki cameny poys, that is, the great stony Girdle: because they suppose them to encompass the whole earth.

(2) A range of Mountains in Africa, that surround almost all Monomotapa.