Where turn th' ecstatic eye, how ease my breast That pants with wild astonishment and love! Dark forefts, and the op'ning lawn, refresh'd With ever-gufhing brooks, hill, meadow, dale, The balmy bean-field, the gay-clover'd close, So sweetly interchang'd, the lowing ox, The playful lamb, the distant water-fall Now faintly heard, now fwelling with the breeze, The found of pastoral reed from hazel-bower, The choral birds, the neighing fteed, that snuffs His dappled mate, stung with intense desire, The ripen'd orchard when the ruddy orbs Betwixt the green leaves blush, the azure skies, The chearful fun that thro' earth's vitals pours Delight and health and heat; all, all confpire, To raise, to footh, to harmonize the mind, To lift on wings of praise, to the great Sire Of being and of beauty, at whofe nod Creation started from the gloomy vault
Of dreary Chaos, while the griefly king Murmur'd to feel his boisterous power confin'd.
What are the lays of artful Addison,
Coldly correct, to Shakespear's warblings wild? Whom on the winding Avon's willow'd banks Fair Fancy found, and bore the smiling babe To a close cavern: (ftill the shepherds fhew The facred place, whence with religious awe They hear, returning from the field at eve,
- Strange whifp'rings of sweet mufick thro' the air) Here, as with honey gather'd from the rock, She fed the little prattler, and with fongs
Oft' footh'd his wand'ring ears, with deep delight On her foft lap he fat, and caught the founds. Oft near fome crowded city would I walk, Listening the far-off noises, rattling cars, Loud fhouts of joy, fad shrieks of forrow, knells Full flowly tolling, inftruments of trade, Striking mine ears with one deep-fwelling hum. Or wand'ring near the fea, attend the founds. Of hollow winds, and ever-beating waves, Ev'n when wild tempefts swallow up the plains, And Boreas' blasts, big hail, and rains combine To shake the groves and mountains, would I fit, Penfively mufing on th' outrageous crimes That wake heav'n's vengeance: at such folemn hours, Dæmons and goblins thro' the dark air shriek, While Hecat, with her black-brow'd fifters nine, Rides o'er the earth, and scatters woes and death. Then too, they fay, in dear Ægyptian wilds The lion and the tiger prowl for prey
With roarings loud! the lift'ning traveller
Starts fear-ftruck, while the hollow-echoing vaults Of pyramids increase the deathful founds.
But let me never fail in cloudless nights, When filent Cynthia in her filver car
Thro' the blue concave flides, when fhine the hills,
Twinkle the streams, and woods look tip'd with gold, To feek fome level mead, and there invoke Old Midnight's fifter Contemplation fage, (Queen of the rugged brow, and ftern-fixt eye) To lift my foul above this little earth, This folly-fetter'd world: to purge my ears, That I may hear the rolling planet's fong, And tuneful turning spheres: if this debarr'd: The little Fayes that dance in neighbouring dales, Sipping the night-dew, while they laugh and love, Shall charm me with aërial notes.
As thus I wander mufing, lo, what aweful forms Yonder appear! fharp-ey'd Philosophy Clad in dun robes, an eagle on his wrift, First meets my eye; next, virgin Solitude Serene, who blushes at each gazer's fight; Then Wisdom's hoary head, with crutch in hand, Trembling, and bent with age; laft Virtue's felf Smiling, in white array'd, who with her leads Sweet Innocence, that prattles by her fide, A naked boy!-Harrass'd with fear I ftop, I gaze, when Virtue thus- Whoe'er thou art, Mortal, by whom I deign to be beheld
In these my midnight-walks; depart, and fay • 'That henceforth I and my immortal train
Forfake Britannia's ifle; who fondly stoops
• To Vice, her favourite paramour,'-She fpoke, And as she turn'd, her round and rofy neck,
Her flowing train, and long ambrofial hair, Breathing rich odours, I enamour'd view.
O who will bear me then to western climes, (Since Virtue leaves our wretched land) to fields Yet unpolluted with Iberian fwords:
The ifles of innocence, from mortal view Deeply retir'd, beneath a plantane's shade, Where Happiness and Quiet fit enthron'd, With fimple Indian fwains, that I may hunt The boar and tiger thro' Savannah's wild, Thro' fragrant defarts, and thro' citron-groves. There fed on dates and herbs, would I defpife The far-fetch'd cates of Luxury, and hoards Of narrow-hearted Avarice; nor heed
The diftant din of the tumultuous world.
So when rude whirlwinds rouze the roaring main, Beneath fair Thetis fits, in choral caves,
Serenely gay, nor finking failors' cries
Disturb her sportive nymphs, who round her form The light fantastick dance, or for her hair Weave rofy crowns, or with according lutes Grace the foft warbles of her honied voice,
Parent of each lovely Mufe, Thy spirit o'er my foul diffufe, O'er all my artless fongs prefide, My footsteps to thy temple guide, To offer at thy turf-built fhrine, In golden cups no coftly wine, No murder'd fat'ling of the flock, But flowers and honey from the rock. O Nymph with loosely-flowing hair, With buskin'd leg, and bosom bare, Thy waift with myrtle-girdle bound, Thy brows with Indian feathers crown'd, Waving in thy fnowy hand
An all-commanding magick wand,
Of pow'r to bid fresh gardens blow 'Mid chearless Lapland's barren fnow, Whose rapid wings thy flight convey Thro' air, and over earth and fea, While the vast various landscape lies Confpicuous to thy piercing eyes.
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