From the fide of fome hoar hill,
Through the high wood echoing fhrill.
Some time walking not unseen

By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,
Right against the eastern gate,
Where the great fun begins his ftate,
Rob'd in flames, and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight.
While the plow-man near at hand,
Whistles o'er the furrow'd land,
And the milkmaid fingeth blithe,
And the mower whets his fithe,
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures,
Whilft the landskip round it measures;
Ruffet lawns, and fallows gray,s
Where the nibbling flocks do ftray,
Mountains on whofe barren breast
The labouring clouds do often reft,
Meadows trim with daifies pide,
Shallow brooke, and rivers wide.
Towers and battlements it fees
Bofom'd high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps fome beauty lies,
The Cynofure of neighbouring eyes.
Hard by, a cottage chimney fmokes,
From betwixt two aged oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrfis met,
Are at their favoury dinner fet
Of herbs, and other country meffes,
Which the neat-handed Phyllis dreffes;
And then in hafte her bower the leaves,
With Theftylis to bind the fheaves;
Or if the earlier feafon lead

To the tann'd haycock in the mead,
Sometimes with fecure delight
The up-land hamlets will invite,

When the merry bells ring round,ow out of

And the jocund rebecks found.

To many a youth, and many a maid,

Dancing in the chequer'd shade;
And young and old come forth to play
On a funfhine holy-day,

Till the live-long day-light fail,
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,
With stories told of many a feat,
How Fairy-Mab the junkets eat;
She was pincht, and pull'd, fhe faid,
And he by friers lanthorn led ;
Tells how the drudging Goblin fwet,
To earn his cream-bowl duly fet,
When in one night, ere glimps of morn
His fhadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn
That ten day-labourers could not end,
Then lies him down the lubbar fiend;
And ftretch'd out all the chimney's length,
Balks at the fire his hairy ftrength;
And crop-full out of doors he flings,
Ere the firft cock his mattin rings.
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,
By whispering winds foon lull'd afleep.
Towred cities please us then,

And the bufy humm of men,

Where throngs of knights and barons bold,
In weeds of peace high triumphs hold,
With ftore of ladies, whofe bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prize
Of wit or arms, while both contend
To win her grace, whom all commend.
There let Hymen oft appear
In faffron robe, with taper clear,
And pomp, and feaft, and revelry,
With mask, and antique pageantry,
Such fights as youthful poets dream
On fummer eves by haunted stream.

Then to the well-trod stage anon,
If Johnfon's learned fock be on,
Or sweetest Shakespear, fancy's child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild,
And ever against eating cares,
Lap me in foft Lydian aires,
Married to immortal verfe,
Such as the meeting foul may pierce
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of linked sweetness long drawn out,
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running;
Untwisting all the chains that ty

The hidden foul of harmony:

That Orpheus' felf may heave his head
From golden lumber on a bed

Of heapt Elyfian flowers, and hear
Such ftrains as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite fet free
His half-regain'd Eurydice.
Thefe delights, if thou canft give,

Mirth, with thee I mean to live.

Il Penferafe

ENCE vain deluding joys,

HE

The brood of folly without father bred, How little you befted,

Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys; Dwell in fome idle brain,

And fancies fond with gaudy thapes poffefs, As thick and numberlefs.

As the gay motes that people the fun-beams, Or likeft hovering dreams,

The fickle penfioners of Morpheus' train.
But hail thou Goddefs, fage and holy,
Hail divineft Melancholy,

Whofe faintly visage is too bright
To hit the fenfe of human fight;
And therefore to our weaker view,
O'erlaid with black ftaid wifdom's hue.
Black, but fuch as in esteem,

Prince Memnon's fifter might befeem,
Or that starr'd Ethiope queen that ftrove
To fet her beauties praife above

The fea nymphs, and their powers offended.
Yet thou art higher far defcended,
The bright-bair'd Vefta long of yore
To folitary Saturn bore;

His daughter fhe (in Saturn's reign,
Such mixture was not held a ftain)
Oft in glimmering bowres, and glades
He met her, and in fecret fhades hoon
Of woody Ida's inmoft grove,

While yet there was no fear of Jove.
Come penfive nun, devout and pure,
Sober, ftedfaft, and demure,
All in a robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majeflic train,
And fable ftole of Cypress lawn,
-Over thy decent shoulders drawn.
Come, but keep thy wonted ftate,
With even step, and mufing gate,
And looks commercing with the fkies,
Thy rapt foul fitting in thine eyes
"There held in holy paffion still, zar
Forget thyself to marble, till
With a fad leaden downward caft,
Thou fix them on the earth as faft;

And join with thee calm Peace, and, Quiet, with

Spare Faft, that of Gods doth diet,

And hears the Mufes in a ring,

Ay round about Jove's altar fing.
And add to thefe retired Leifure,

That in trim gardens takes his pleasure;

But first, and chiefeft, with thee bring,
Him that yon foars on golden wing,
Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne,
The cherub Contemplation,
And the mute filence hift along,
'Lefs Philomel will deign a fong,
In her fweeteft, faddeft plight,
Smoothing the rugged brow of night,
While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke,
Gently o'er th' accuftom'd oak;
Sweet bird that shunn't the noise of folly,
Most musical, most melancholy !

Thee chauntress of the woods among,30
I woo to hear thy even-fong;
And miffing thee, I walk unfeen
On the dry smooth-fhaven green,
To behold the wandring moon,
Riding near her highest noon,
Like one that had been led aftray
Through the heav'n's wide pathlefs way;
And oft as if her head the bow'd,
Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
Oft on a plat of rising ground,
I hear the far-off Gurfen found,
Over fome wide-water'd fhoar,
Swinging flow with fullen roar;
Or if the air will not permit,

Some still removed place will fit,pront
Where glowing embers through the room
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,

Far from all refort of mirth,
Save the cricket on the hearth,
Or the belman's drowly charm,
To blefs the doors from nightly harm:
Or let my lamp at midnight hour,
Be feen in fome high lonely tow'r,
Where I may oft out-watch the Bear,
With thrice great Hermes, or unfphear

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