May not unseemly with its stillness suit, As musing slow', I hail,
Thy genial, lov'd return!
For when thy folding star arising shews His paly circlet, as his warning lamp The fragrant Hours, and Elves
Who slept in flow'rs the day,
And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge,
And sheds the fresh'ning dew, and lovelier still, The pensive Pleasures sweet Prepare thy shadowy car,
Then lead, calm Vot'ress, where some sheety lake Cheers the lone heath or some time-hallowed pile, Or up-land fallows grey Reflect its last cool gleam..
But when chill blust'ring winds or driving rain, Forbid my willing feet, be mine the hut, That from the mountain's side, Views wilds and swelling floods,
And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires, And hears the simple bell, and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.
While Spring shall pour his show'rs, as oft he
And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve!! While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light:
While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves;: Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air Affrights thy shrinking train,
And rudely rends thy robes;
So long, sure found beneath the sylvan shade, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science 2 rose lip'd Health,
Thy gentlest influence own,
And hymn thy favourite name! COLLINS..
CHA P. X X V I.
Ode to Spring.
SWEET daughter of a rough and stormy sire,
Hoar Winter's blooming child: delightful Spring! Whose unshorn locks with leaves
And swelling buds are crown'd;
From the green islands of eternal youth, (Crown'd with fresh blooms, and ever-springing shade)
Turn, hither turn thy step,
O thou whose powerful voice
More sweet than softest touch of Doric reed Or Lydian flute, can sooth the madding winds, And thro the stormy deep
Breathe thy own tender calm.
Thee, best belov'd! the virgin train await, songs and festal rites, and joy to rove Thy blooming wilds among,
And vales and dewy lawns,
With untir'd feet; and cull thy earliest sweets To weave fresh garlands for the glowing brow Of him the favour'd youth
That prompts their whisper'd sigh.
Unlock thy copious stores; those tender showers That drop their sweetness on the infant buds, And silent dews that swell,
The milky ear's green stem,
And feed the flow'ring osier's early shoots; And call those winds which through the whisp'ring boughs
With warm and pleasant breath Salute the blowing flowers.
Now let me sit beneath the whitening thorn And mark thy spreading tints steal o'er the dale; And watch with patient eye
Thý fair unfolding charms.
O Nymph, approach! while yet the temperate sun With bashful forehead, thro' the cool moist air Throws his young maiden beams, And with chaste kisses woos
The earth's fair bosom; while the streaming veil Of lucid clouds with kind and frequent shade Protects thy modest blooms From his severer blaze,
Sweet is thy reign, but short; the red Dog-star Shall scorch thy tresses, and the mower's scythe Thy greens, thy flow'rets all, Remorseless shall destroy.
Reluctant shall I bid thee then farewell; For O! not all that Autumn's lap contains, Nor Summer's ruddiest fruits,
Can aught for thee attone.
Fair Spring! whose simplest promise more delights Than all their largest wealth, and thro' the heart Each joy and new-born hope With softest influence breathes.
CHAP. XX VII.
Domestic Love and Happiness.
Happy they! the happiest of their kind! Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. "Tis not the coarser tie of human laws Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind, That binds their peace, but harmony itself, Attuning all their passions into love;
Where Friendship full exerts her softest power: Perfect esteem, enliven'd by desire
Ineffable, and sympathy of soul;
Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will,
With boundless confidence: for nonght but love Can answer love, and render bliss secure.
Let him, ungenerous, who alone, intent To bless himself, from sordid parents buys The loathing virgin, in eternal care, Well-merited, consume his nights and days: Let barbarous nations, whose inhuman love Is wild desire, fierce as the suns they feel; Let eastern tyrants from the light of heaven Seclude their bosom-slaves,. meanly possess'd Of a mere lifeless, violated form:
While those whom love cements in holy faith, And equal transport, free as nature live, Disdaining fear. What is the world to them, Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all?. Who in each other clasp whatever fair High fancy forms, and lavish hearts can wish; Something than beauty dearer, should they look. Or on the mind, or mind-illumin'd face; · Truth, Goodness, Honour, Harmony, and Love,, The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven. Mean-time a smiling offspring rises round And Mingles both their graces. By degrees, The human blossom blows; and every day, Soft as it rolls along, shews some new charm The father's lustre , and the mother's bloom. Then infant Reason grows apace, and calls. For the kind hand of an assiduous care.. Delightful task! to rear the tender Thought,. To teach the young Idea how to shoot,
pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, To breathe enlivening spirit, and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast, Oh! speak the joy! ye whom the sudden tear Surprises often, while you look around, And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss ; All various nature pressing on the heart :. An elegant sufficiency, content,
Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, Ease and alternate labour, useful life ge Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven. These are the matchless joys of virtuous love; And thus their moments fly. The Seasons thus,
As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll Still find them happy; and consenting Spring. Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads: Till evening comes at last, serene and mild: When after the long vernal day of life, Enamour'd more as more resemblance swells, With many a proof of recollected love, Together down they sink in social sleep; Together freed, their gentle spirits fly
To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign.
The Pleasures of Retirement. O knew he but his happiness! of men
The happiest he, who far from public rage Deep in the vale, with a choice few retir'd Drinks the pure pleasures of the rural life. What tho' the dome be wanting, whose proud gate,
Each morning vomits out the sneaking crowd Of flatt'rers false, and in their turn abus'd? Vile intercourse! What tho' the glittering robe, Of every hue reflected light can give,
Or floated loose or stiff with mazy gold,
The pride and gaze of fools, oppress him not? What tho', from utmost land and sea purvey'd, For him each rarer tributary life
Bleeds not, and his insatiate table heaps With luxury and death? What tho' his bowl Flames not with costly juice; nor sunk in beds Oft. af. gay Care, he tosses out the night, Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle state? What tho' he knows not those fantastic joys, That still amuse the wanton, still deceive A face, of pleasure but a heart of pain;: The hollow moments undelighted all !. Sure peace is his; a solid life, estrang'd To disappointment and fallacious hope:
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