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All in robe of darkest grain,
Flowing with majestic train,
And fable stole of Cyprus lawn,
O'er thy decent shoulders drawn.
Come, but keep thy wonted state,
With even step, and musing gate,
And looks commercing with the skies, -
Thy rapt foul fitting in thine eyes: - * -

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There held in holy passion still Forget thyfelf to marble, till With a fad leaden downward caft Thou fix them on the earth as fast : And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with Gods doth diet, And hears the mufes in a ring Ay round about ỹove's altar fing : And add to thefe retired Leifure, That in trim gardens takes his pleasure ; | But first, and chiefest, with thee bring, Him that yon foars on golden wing, Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, The cherub Cóntemplation ; And the mute Silence hist along, 'Lefs Philomel will deign a fong, In her sweetest, faddest plight, Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke, Gently o'er th’ accustom'd oak. | Sweet bird that shunn'st the noife of folly, | Most musical, most melancholy! Thee chauntrefs oft the woods among I woo to hearthy eyen-song ; And miffing thee, I walk unseen On the dry fmooth-shaven green, To behold the wand’ring moon, Riding near her highest noon, Like one that had been led astray Through the heav'n's wide pathlefs way, And oft, as if her head she bow'd , Stooping through a fleecy cloud. Oft on a plat of rifing ground, I hear the far off curfeu found, Over fome wide-water'd shore, ,

| Swinging flow with fullen roar ; | Or if the air will not permit, | Some still removed place will fit, | Where glowing embers through the room | Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, 'i Far from all refort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth,


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Or the belman’s drousy charm,
To bless the doors from nightly harm :
Or let my lamp at midnight hour
Be feen in fomē high lonely tow'r,
Where I may oft out-watch the Bear,
With thrice-great Hermes, or unsphere
The spirit of Plato to unfold
What worlds, or what vast regions hold
The immortal mind that hath forsook
Her manfion in this fleshy nook :
And of those Demons that are found
In fire, air, flood, or under ground,
Whose power hath a true confent
With planet, or with element.
Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy
In scepter'd pall come sweeping by,
Presenting Thebes, or Pelops’ line,
Or the tale of Troy divine,
Or what (though rare) of later age
Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage.
But, O fad virgin, that thy power
Might raise Musæus from his bower,
Or bid the foul of Orpheus fing
Such notes as, warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears down Pluto’s cheek,
And made hell grant what love did feek ;
Or call up him that left half told
The story of Cambustan bold,
Of Camball, and of Algarßfe,
And who had Canace to wife,
That own'd the virtuous ring and glass,
And of the wond’rous horse of brafs
On which the Tartar king did ride ; -
And if ought elfe great bards befide • , ,
In fage and folemn tunes have fung, .
Of turnies and of trophies hung, }
Of forefts, and inchantments drear, *
Where more is meant than meets the ear.
Thus, Night, oft fee me in thy pale career,
Till civil-suited Morn appear,
Not trickt and flounc’t as she was wont
With the Attic boy to hunt,

But kercheft in a comely cloud, While rocking winds are piping loud, Or usher'd with a shower still, When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the russling leaves With minute drops from off the eaves. And when the fun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And fhadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude ax with heavy stroke Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt ; There in close covert by fome brook, Where no profaner eye may look, Hide me from day’s garish eye, While the bee with honied thigh, That at her flow'ry work doth fing, And the waters murmuring, With fuch confort as they keep , . Entice the dewy feather’d Sleep; And let fome strange mysterious dream Wave at his wings in airy stream Of lively portraiture display'd, Softly on my eye-lids laid: And, as I wake, sweet music breathe Above, about, or underneath, Sent by fome spirit to mortals good, Or th’ unseen genius of the wood. But let my dew-feet never fail To walk the studious cloysters pale, And love the high-embowed roof, With antique pillars masiy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light : There let the pealing organ blow, To the full-voic’d choir below, In service high, and anthems clear, As may with sweetness through mine ear Dissolve me into extafies, * And bring all heav'n before mine eyes.


And may at last my weary age
Find out the peaceful hermitage,
The hairy gown, and mossy cell,
Where I may fit and rightly spell
Of every ftar that heav'n doth shew,
And every herb that fips the dew;
Till old experience do attain
To fomething like prophetic strain.
These pleasures, Melancholy, give,
And I with thee will chuse to live.

These poems are to be admired, as well for their close, fignificant, and expressive descriptions, as for the frequent and beautiful use the poet has made of the figure called Profopopæia; by which he has personified almost every object in his view, raised a great number of pleasing images, and introduced qualities and things inanimate as living and rational beings. We cannot quit this subjećt without taking some notice of that excellent poem, left us by Mr. Thom/on, intituled the Seafons; which, notwithstanding fome parts of it are didastie, may with propriety be inferted under this head. I In this work, the author has given us a poetical, philosophical, and moral description of the four seasons, viz. Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. Under Spring, he has described the seafon as it usually affects the various parts of nature, ascending from the lower to the higher, and confidered the influence of the Spring on inanimate matter, on vegetables, on brute animals, and on man ; after which he concludes with a diffuafive from the wild and irregular pastion of love, and recommends that of a pure and happy kind. The whole is embellished with fuitable digressions, and moral reflections ; and wrought up with wonderful art. His Address to heaven in favour of the farmer, and what follows in praife of agriculture, is extremely beautiful..

Be gracious, Heave N ! for now laborious man
Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow
Ye soft’ning dews, ye tender showers, descend !
And temper all, thou world-reviving fun,
Into the perfect year ! nor ye who live
In luxury and ease, in pomp and pride,

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