Unnumber'd branches waving in the blast, And all their leaves faft flutt'ring, all at once. Nor lefs compofure waits upon the roar Of diftant floods, or on the fofter voice Of neighb'ring fountain, or of rills that flip Through the cleft rock, and chiming as they fall Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length In matted grafs, that with a livelier green Betrays the fecret of their filent course. Nature inanimate employs sweet founds, But animated Nature fweeter ftill
To footh and fatisfy the human ear.
Ten thousand warblers chear the day, and one
The live-long night: nor thefe alone whofe notes
Nice-finger'd art muft emulate in vain,
But cawing rooks, and kites that swim fublime In ftill repeated circles, fcreaming loud, The jay, the pie, and ev'n the boding owl That hails the rifing moon, have charms for me. Sounds inharmonious in themselves and harsh, Yet heard in scenes where peace for ever reigns, And only there, please highly for their fake.
Peace to the artift, whofe ingenious thought Devifed the weather-houfe, that useful toy! Fearless of humid air and gathering rains Forth steps the man, an emblem of myself, More delicate his tim'rous mate retires. When Winter foaks the fields, and female feet Too weak to ftruggle with tenacious clay,
Or ford the rivulets, are beft at home,
The task of new discov'ries falls on me.
At fuch a season and with such a charge
Once went I forth, and found, till then unknown, A cottage, whither oft we fince repair;
"Tis perch'd upon the green-hill top, but clofe Inviron'd with a ring of branching elms That overhang the thatch, itfelf unfeen, Peeps at the vale below; fo thick befet With foliage of fuch dark redundant growth, I call'd the low roof'd lodge the peasant's nest. And hidden as it is, and far remote
From fuch unpleafing founds as haunt the ear In village or in town, the bay of curs Inceffant, clinking hammers, grinding wheels, And infants clam'rous whether pleas'd or pain'd, Oft have I wish'd the peaceful covert mine. Here, I have faid, at leaft I fhould poffefs The poet's treafure, filence, and indulge The dreams of fancy, tranquil and fecure. Vain thought! the dweller in that still retreat Dearly obtains the refuge it affords.
Its elevated feite forbids the wretch
To drink fweet waters of the chrystal well; He dips his bowl into the weedy ditch, And heavy-laden brings his bev'rage home Far-fetch'd and little worth; nor feldom waits, Dependant on the baker's punctual call, To hear his creaking panniers at the door, Angry and fad and his laft cruft confumed,
So farewel envy of the peasant's nest. If folitude make fcant the means of life, Society for me! Thou seeming fweet, Be ftill a pleafing object in my view, My vifit ftill, but never mine abode.
Not diftant far, a length of colonnade Invites us. Monument of ancient tafte, Now fcorn'd, but worthy of a better fate. Our fathers knew the value of a screen From fultry funs, and in their fhaded walks And long-protracted bow'rs, enjoy'd at noon The gloom and coolness of declining day. We bear our fhades about us; felf-depriv'd Of other screen, the thin umbrella fpread, And range an Indian wafte without a tree. Thanks to Benevolus-he fpares me yet These chefnuts ranged in correfponding lines, And though himself fo polifh'd, ftill reprieves The obfolete prolixity of fhade.
Defcending now (but cautious, left too fast) A fudden steep, upon a ruftic bridge We pass a gulph in which the willows dip Their pendant boughs, ftooping as if to drink. Hence ancle deep in mofs and flow'ry thyme We mount again, and feel at ev'ry step
John Courtney Throckmorton, Efq; of Wefton
Our foot half funk in hillocks green and soft, Rais'd by the mole, the miner of the foil. He not unlike the great ones of mankind, Disfigures earth, and plotting in the dark Toils much to earn a monumental pile, That may. record the mifchiefs he has done.
The fummit gain'd, behold the proud alcoveThat crowns it! yet not all its pride fecures The grand retreat from injuries impref:'d By rural carvers, who with knives deface The pannels, leaving an obfcure rude name In characters uncouth, and spelt amifs. So ftrong the zeal t' immortalize himself Beats in the breast of man, that ev'n a few Few tranfient years won from th' abyfs abhorr'd · Of blank oblivion, feem a glorious prize, And even to a clown. Now roves the eye. And posted on this speculative height Exults in its command. The sheep-fold here Pours out its fleecy tenants o'er the glebe. At first, progreffive as a stream, they seek The middle field; but fcatter'd by degrees Each to his choice, foon whiten all the land. There, from the fun-burnt hay-field homeward creeps The loaded wain, while lighten'd of its charge The wain that meets it paffes fwiftly by, The boorish driver leaning o'er his team Vocif'rous, and impatient of delay. Nor lefs attractive is the woodland scene
Diversified with trees of every growth
Alike yet. various. Here the grey smooth trunks. Of afh, or lime, or beech, diftinctly fhine, Within the twilight of their distant shades ; There loft behind a rifing ground, the wood Seems funk, and fhorten'd to its topmost boughs.. No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar; paler fome, And of a wannish grey; the willow fuch. And poplar, that with filver lines his leaf, And afh far-ftretching his umbrageous arm. Of deeper green the elm; and deeper ftill,. Lord of the woods, the long-furviving oak.. Some gloffy-leav'd and shining in the fun, The maple, aud the beech of oily nuts.. Prolific, and the lime at dewy eve Diffufing odours: nor unnoted pafs The fycamore, capricious in attire, Now green, now tawny, and ere autumn yet Have changed the woods, in fcarlet honors bright. O'er thefe, but far beyond (a spacious map Of hill and valley interpos'd between) The Oufe, dividing the well-water'd land, Now glitters in the fun, and now retires, As bashful, yet impatient to be seen.
Hence the declivity is fharp and fhort, And fuch the re-afcent; between them weeps A little Naiad her impov'rish'd urn
All fummer long, which winter fills again.
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