To shake the sounding marsh; or from the shore
The Plovers when to scatter o'er the heath,
And sing their wild notes to the listening waste. 25
At last from Aries rolls the bounteous Sun,
And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more
The expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold;
But, full of life and vivifying soul,
Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads them thin,
Fleecy, and white, o'er all-surrounding Heaven. Forth fly the tepid Airs: and unconfined, Unbinding Earth, the moving Softness strays. Joyous, the impatient Husbandman perceives Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers
Drives from their stalls, to where the well used
Lies in the furrow, loosen'd from the frost.
There, unrefusing, to the harness'd yoke
They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil,
Cheer'd by the simple song and soaring lark. 40
Meanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share
The Master leans, removes the obstructing clay,
Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the glebe.
White, through the neighbouring fields the Sow-
With measured step; and, liberal, throws the grain Into the faithful bosom of the Ground;
The Harrow follows harsh, and shuts the scene.
Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious Man Has done his part. Ye fostering Breezes, blow!
Ye softening Dews, ye tender Showers, descend!
And temper all, thou world-reviving Sun,
Into the perfect year! Nor ye who live
In luxury and ease, in pomp and pride,
Think these lost Themes unworthy of your ear:
Such themes as these the rural MARO sung
To wide-imperial Rome, in the full height
Of elegance and taste, by Greece refined.
In ancient times the sacred Plough employ'd
The Kings and awful Fathers of mankind:
And Some, with whom compared your insect-tribes
Are but the beings of a summer's day,
Have held the Scale of Empire, ruled the Storm
Of mighty War; then, with victorious hand,
Disdaining little delicacies, seized
The Plough, and greatly independent scorned 65
All the vile stores Corruption can bestow.
Ye generous BRITONS, venerate the Plough! And o'er your hills, and long withdrawing vales, Let Autumn spread his treasures to the Sun, Luxuriant and unbounded! As the Sea, Far through his azure turbulent domain, Your empire owns, and from a thousand shores Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports; So with superior boon may your rich soil, Exuberant, Nature's better blessings pour O'er every land, the naked nations clothe, And be the exhaustless granary of a world! Nor only through the lenient air this change, Delicious, breathes; the penetrative Sun,
His force deep-darting to the dark retreat
Of Vegetation, sets the steaming Power
At large, to wander o'er the vernant Earth,
In various hues; but chiefly thee, gay Green!
Thou smiling Nature's universal robe!
United light and shade! where the Sight dwells
With growing strength and ever-new delight.
From the moist meadow to the wither'd hill,
Led by the breeze, the vivid Verdure runs,
And swells, and deepens, to the cherish'd Eye.
The Hawthorn whitens; and the juicy Groves 90
Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees,
Till the whole leafy Forest stands display'd,
In full luxuriance, to the sighing gales;
Where the Deer rustle through the twining brake,
And the Birds sing conceal'd. At once, array'd
In all the colours of the flushing Year,
By Nature's swift and secret working Hand,
The Garden glows, and fills the liberal air
With lavish fragance; while the promised Fruit
Lies yet a little embryo, unperceived,
Within its crimson folds. Now from the Town
Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps,
Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields,
Where Freshness breathes, and dash the trembling drops
From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze
Of sweetbriar hedges I pursue my walk;
Or taste the smell of dairy; or ascend
Some eminence, AUGUSTA, in thy plains,
And see the country, far diffused around,
One boundless blush, one white-empurpled shower
Of mingled blossoms; where the raptured Eye
Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath
The fair profusion, yellow Autumn spies.
If, brush'd from Russian Wilds, a cutting Gale
Rise not, and scatter from his humid wings
The clammy Mildew; or, dry-blowing, breathe
Untimely Frost; before whose baleful Blast
The full-blown Spring through all her foliage
shrinks,
Joyless and dead, a wide-dejected waste.
For oft, engender'd by the hazy North,
Myriads on myriads, Insect-armies waft
Keen in the poison'd breeze; and wasteful eat,
Through buds and bark, into the blacken'd Core,
Their eager way. A feeble Race! yet oft
The sacred Sons of Vengeance; on whose course
Corrosive Famine waits, and kills the Year.
To check this Plague, the skilful Farmer chaff
And blazing straw before his orchard burns;
Till, all involved in smoke, the latent Foe
From every cranny suffocated falls:
Or scatters o'er the blooms the pungent dust
Of pepper, fatal to the frosty Tribe:
Or, when the envenom'd leaf begins to curl,
With sprinkled water drowns them in their nest;
Nor, while they pick them up with busy bill, 135
The little trooping Birds unwisely scares.
Be patient, Swains; these cruel-seeming Winds
Blow not in vain. Far hence they keep, repress'd, Those deepening clouds on clouds, surcharged with
That o'er the vast Atlantic hither borne,
In endless train, would quench the summer-blaze. And, cheerless, drown the crude unripen'd Year. The North-east spends his rage; and now, shut
Within his iron caves, the effusive South
Warms the wide Air, and o'er the void of Heaven
Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers distent.
At first a dusky Wreath they seem to rise,
Scarce staining Ether; but by fast degrees,
In heaps on heaps, the doubling Vapour sails
Along the loaded sky, and mingling deep
Sits on the horizon round a settled gloom:
Not such as wintry Storms on Mortals shed,
Oppressing life; but lovely, gentle, kind,
And full of every hope and every joy,
The wish of Nature. Gradual sinks the Breeze
Into a perfect calm; that not a Breath
Is heard to quiver through the closing woods,
Or rustling turn the many-twinkling leaves
Of Aspin tall. The' uncurling Floods, diffused
In glassy breadth, seem through delusive lapse 160
Forgetful of their course. 'Tis Silence all,
And pleasing Expectation. Herds and Flocks
Drop the dry sprig, and mute-imploring eye
The falling verdure. Hush'd in short suspense,
The plumy People streak their wings with oil, 165
|