III.

Was nought around but images of rest:
Sleep-soothing groves, and quiet lawns between;
And flowery beds that slumberous influence kest,
From poppies breathed; and beds of pleasant
green,

Where never yet was creeping creature seen. Meantime unnumber'd glittering streamlets play'd,

And hurled every-where their waters sheen; That, as they bicker'd through the sunny glade, Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made.

IV.

Join'd to the prattle of the purling rills, Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, And flocks loud-bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale : And, now and then, sweet Philomel would wail, Or stock-doves plain amid the forest deep, That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale ; And still a coil the grasshopper did keep; Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep.

V.

Full in the passage of the vale, above,

[move,

A sable, silent, solemn forest stood; Where nought but shadowy forms were seen to As Idless fancied in her dreaming mood: And up the hills, on either side, a wood Of blackening pines, aywaving to and fro, Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood; And where this valley winded out, below, The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.

VI.

A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was, Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, For ever flushing round a summer sky: There eke the soft delights, that witchingly Instil a wanton sweetness through the breast, And the calm pleasures always hover'd nigh; But whate'er smack'd of noyance, or unrest, Was far, far off expell'd from this delicious nest,

VII.

The landskip such, inspiring perfect ease, Where Indolence (for so the wizard hight) Close hid his castle mid embowering trees, That half shut out the beams of Phoebus bright, And made a kind of checker'd day and night; Meanwhile, unceasing at the massy gate, Beneath a spacious palm, the wicked wight Was placed; and to his lute, of cruel Fate And labour harsh complain'd, lamenting man's

estate.

VIII.

Thither continual pilgrims crowded still,
From all the roads of earth that pass
there by:
For, as they chaunced to breathe on neighbour-

ing hill,

The freshness of this valley smote their eye,
And drew them ever and anon more nigh;
Till clustering round the' enchanter false they
Ymolten with his syren melody;

[hung, While o'er the' enfeebling lute his hand he flung, And to the trembling chords these tempting verses

sung:

IX.

'Behold! ye pilgrims of this earth, behold! See all, but man, with unearn'd pleasure gay: See her bright robes the butterfly unfold, Broke from her wintry tomb in prime of May! What youthful bride can equal her array? Who can with her for easy pleasure vie? From mead to mead with gentle wing to stray, From flower to flower on balmy gales to fly, Is all she has to do beneath the radiant sky.

X.

'Behold the merry minstrels of the morn,

The swarming songsters of the careless grove, Ten thousand throats! that, from the flowering thorn,

Hymn their good God, and carol sweet of love; Such grateful kindly raptures them emove: They neither plough, nor sow; ne, fit for flail, E'er to the barn the nodden sheaves they drove; Yet theirs each harvest dancing in the gale, Whatever crowns the hill, or smiles along the vale.

XI.

'Outcast of nature, man! the wretched thrall Of bitter-dropping sweat, of sweltry pain, Of cares that eat away the heart with gall, And of the vices an inhuman train, That all proceed from savage thirst of gain: For when hard-hearted interest first began To poison Earth, Astræa left the plain; Guile, violence, and murder seized on man, And, for soft milky streams, with blood the rivers

ran.