To raise his feeble voice above
The crowd, and catch the ear of Jove.
And do thou, Vacation, deign
To let me pafs among thy train;
So may I thy votʼry true,
All thy flow'ry paths purfue,
Pleafed ftill with thee to meet
In fome friendly rural feat;
Where I gladfome oft' furvey
Nature in her best array,
Woods and lawns and lakes between,
Fields of corn and hedges green,
Fallow grounds of tawny hue,
Distant hills, and mountains blue;
On whofe ridge far off appears
A wood (the growth of many years)
Of aweful oak, or gloomy pine,
Above th' horizon's level line
Rifing black fuch thofe of old
Where British druids wont to hold
Solemn affemblies, and to keep
Their rites, unfolding myft'ries deep,
Such that fam'd Dodona's grove,
Sacred to prophetic Jove.
Oft' I admire the verdant steep,
Spotted white with many a sheep,
While, in paftures rich below
Among the grazing cattle, flow
Moves the bull with heavy tread
Hanging down his lumpish head,
And the proud fteed neigheth oft'
Shaking his wanton mane aloft.
Or, traverfing the wood about,
The jingling packhorse-bells remote
I hear, amid the noontide ftillness,
Sing thro' the air with brassy fhrillness;
What time the waggon's cumbrous load
Grates along the grav❜lly road:
There onward, drefs'd in homely guife,
Some unregarded maiden hies,
Unless by chance a trav'lling 'fquire,
Of base intent and foul defire,
Stops to infnare, with speech beguiling,
Sweet innocence and beauty smiling.
Nor fail I joyful to partake
The lively sports of country wake,
Where many a lad and many a lafs
Foot it on the close-trod grass.
There nimble Marian of the green
Matchless in the jig is feen,
Allow'd beyond compare by all,
The beauty of the ruftic ball:
While, the tripping damfels near,
Stands a lout with waggish leer;
He, if Marian chance to fhew
Her taper leg and ftocking blue,
Winks and nods and laughs aloud,
Among the merry-making crowd,
Utt'ring forth, in aukward jeer,
Words unmeet for virgin's ear.
Soon as ev'ning clouds have fhed
Their wat❜ry ftore on earth's soft bed,
And thro' their flowing mantles thin,
Clear azure spots of sky are feen,
I quit fome oak's close-cover'd bow'r
To tafte the boon of new-fall'n fhow'r,
To pace the corn-field's graffy edge
Clofe by a fresh-blown fweet-bri'r hedge i
While at every green leaf's end
Pearly drops of rain depend,
And an earthy fragrance 'round
Rifes from the moiften'd ground,
Sudden a fun-beam darting out,
Brightens the landskip all about,
With yellow light the grove o'erspreads,
And tips with gold the haycocks' heads
Then, as mine eye is eastward led,
Some fair castle rears its head,
Whose height the country round commands,
Well known mark to distant lands,
There the windows glowing bright
Blaze from afar with ruddy light
Borrow'd from clouds of scarlet dye,
Just as the fun hath left the sky.
But if chill Eurus cut the air
With keener wing, I then repair
To park or woodland, fhelter meet,
Near fome noble's ancient feat,
Where long winding walks are feen
Stately oaks and elms between,
Whofe arms promifcuous form above
High over-arch'd a green alcove;
While the hoarfe-voic'd hungry rook
Near her ftick-built neft doth croak,
Waving on the topmost bough;
And the mafter ftag below
Bellows loud with favage roar,
Stalking all his hinds before.
Thus mufing, night with even pace
Steals on, o'erfhad'wing nature's face;
While the bat with dusky wings
Flutters round in giddy rings,
And the buzzing chaffers come
Close by mine ear with folemn hum.
Homeward now my steps I guide
Some rifing graffy bank befide,
Studded thick with sparks of light
Iffuing from many a glow-worm bright;
While village-cur with minute bark
Alarms the pilf'rer in the dark,
Save what light the ftars convey,
'Cluster'd in the milky way,
Or fcatter'd numberless on high
Twinkling all o'er the boundless fky.
Then within doors let me meet
The viol touch'd by finger neat,
Or, foft fymphonies among
Wrap me in the facred fong,
Attun'd by Handel's matchless skill,
While Attention mute and ftill
Fixes all my foul to hear
The voice harmonious, sweet and clear.
Nor let fmooth-tongu'd Converfe fail,
With
many a well-devised tale,
And ftories link'd, to twift a chain
..That may awhile old Time detain,
And make him reft upon his scythe
Pleas'd to fee the hours fo blithe:
While, with sweet attractive grace,
The beauteous houfe-wife of the place
Wins the heart of ev'ry gueft
By courteous deeds, and all contest
Which shall readieft homage fhew
To fuch fov'reign sweetness due.
Thefe delights, Vacation, give,
And I with thee will chufe to live.
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