Dove laughs, and shakes his tresses bright,
And trails afar a line of light.
Now glows the illumined landscape round!
Ye vulgar, hence!-'tis sacred ground!
Hence to the flimsy walks of art,
That lull, but not transport, the heart.
Nature, O Muse, here sits alone,
And marks these regions for thy own;
Here her variety of joys
Nor season bounds nor change destroys:
Be mine the pride, though weak my strains,
That first I woo'd thee to these plains;
Where Spring, in all her beauty dress'd,
But promises a brighter guest:
Where Summer yields her greens and flowers
To Autumn's variegated bowers:
Smiles Winter, as their honours fall,
And bids his hollies shame them allt.
Ye sage professors of design,
Whom system's stubborn rules confine,
Can science here one blemish show?
Or one deficient grace bestow?
Emes, who yon desert wild explored,
And to its name the scene restored;
Whose art is Nature's law maintain'd,
Whose order negligence restrain'd,
+ The numerous groves and clumps of hollies give uncommon beauty to the winter scenes of Needwood Forest.
† Mr. Emes, who ornamented Beaudesart, the seat of Lord Paget, which is seen from the Forest, and who has obtained great reputation for his taste in ornamental gardening, has frequently assured the author that he took his best hints from the scenes of Needwood.
Here, fired by native beauty, traced
The footsteps of the goddess Taste:
Won from her coy retreats she came,
And led him up these paths to fame.
Here every flower improves the gale,
From the meek violet of the vale
To her who flaunts in air sublime,
The woodbine, queen of Summer's prime :
While each delicious shade may vie
With those of boasted Arcady.
There sweet varieties appear
Of thickets shaped by nibbling deer,
Of hills that swell with gradual ease,
Wood-skirted lawns, and scatter'd trees;
Of valleys seen down distant glades,
That break the mass of mingling shades;
While Nature's attribute, extent,
Crowns each inferior ornament!-
On this green unambitious brow, Fair mistress of the vale below, With sloping hills enclosed around, Their heads with oaks and hollies crown'd, With lucky choice, by happy hands,
Placed in good hour, my dwelling stands,
And draws the distant traveller's eye,
Enamour'd of its scenery;
Where all things give, what all express,
Content and rural happiness.
Where far retired from life's dull form
Comes no intruder but the storm;
The storm that with constrasted lour
Endears the fair the silent hour.
Thus their wise days our fathers led,
Fleet ran their hounds, their arrows sped,
And jocund Health with rosy smile
Look'd on, companion of their toil:
Till tyrant Law usurped the land,
Stretch'd o'er the woods his iron hand,
Forbad the echoing horn to blow,
Maim'd the staunch hound*, and snapp'd the bow.
Here with fair peace and modest fame +
They dwelt, who boasted Bagot's name,-
Go, Bagot, plead your country's cause,
While senates listen with applause,
With fearless truth and manly sense
Detecting specious eloquence:
Great talents to the world are due,
Retirement were a crime in you.
Go, and receive your oaken crown!
Here, with no title to renown,
Leave me to loiter at my door
Beneath the spreading sycamore,
That canopies the sloping lawn;
And view the deer at early dawn
In troops come winding down the hill
To taste fresh herbage near the rill;
Or count at noon their slumbering heaps;
At evening watch their playful leaps;
Or hear the quiring of the grove
Give breath to harmony and love;
Or listen to the hum profound,
In the still air that floats around;
* Alludes to the order for lawing, or cutting off a claw of all dogs kept within the purlieus of the royal forests, to prevent their destroying the deer.
The author rents his house, upon the verge of the forest, of Sir Wm. Bagot. It was built and inhabited by two gentlemen of the Bagot family.
Or mark yon hill's extended side,
Where turf and shade the space divide ;-
Here the wood straggles toward the plain,
The pasture there prevails again;
The heifer grazes on its brow,
Clamours the rook on trees below;
Gay golden furze and purple ling
Around their mix'd embroidery fling,
O'er all, irregularly join'd,
The' according outline waves behind.
No dusky Cares o'erhang the bower,
No Passions wreck the halcyon hour;
Nursed in the shade Reflection springs,
Smooths her white plumes, and tries her wings.
No leaf of autumn falls in vain,
No flower-bell droops beneath the rain,
No bubble down the current flows,
But life's uncertain tenure shows.
Those thorns protect the forest's hopes;
That tree the slender ivy props:
Thus rise the mighty on the mean!
Thus on the strong the feeble lean!
In yonder holly-blush, mankind!—
A rare fidelity I find;
Like yours, though summer's flatteries end,
My winter here hath found a friend.—
Hail, faithful favourite tree! to you
The Muse shall pay observance due:
Whether in horrent files you stand
Round sapling oaks a guardian band;
Or form aloft a sheltering bower
Impervious to the sun or shower;
Whether to yon hillside you throng,
Ranging in various groups along;
Or on the plain, maturely grown,
You boldly brave.the storm alone;
Or tapering high, with woodbines hid,
Rise in a fragrant pyramid;
Your vigorous youth with upright shoots,
Your verdant age, your glowing fruits,
Your glossy leaves, and columns gray
Shall live the favourites of my lay!
Alas! in vain with warmth and food
You cheer the songsters of the wood,
The barbarous boy from you prepares
On treacherous twigs his viscous snares.
Yes, the poor bird you nursed shall find
Destruction in your rifled rind.
Thus good and ill too often meet,
And bitter mingles with the sweet!
-Ye pedagogues! let truant youth
Imbibe from you this generous truth-
That one humane, one tender thought
Is worth the whole that schools have taught.
WITH What fond gaze my eye pursues,
Needwood, thy sweetly varying views!
Satyr or nymph or silvan god
A fairer circuit never trod !
Charm'd, as I turn, thy pictures seem
The golden fabrics of a dream,
Where Fiction stands with prism bright,
Rays forth her many-colour'd light,
Dyes the green herb and purple flower,
Gives glittering lustres to the shower;
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