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In Nature, from the broad majestic oak,
To the green blade, that twinkles in the fun,
Prompts, with remembrance of a prefent God.
His prefence, who made all fo fair, perceiv'd,
Makes all till fairer. As with him no scene
Is dreary; fo with him all feafons please.
Though winter had been none, had man been true,
And earth be punish'd for its tenant's fake,
Yet not in vengeance; as this smiling sky,
So foon fucceeding fuch an angry night,
And these diffolving fnows, and this clear stream,
Recov'ring faft its liquid mufic, prove.

Who then, that has a mind well ftrung and tun'd To contemplation, and within his reach, A fcene fo friendly to his fav'rite task, Would waste attention at the chequer'd board, His hoft of wooden warriors, to and fro, Marching, and counter-marching, with an eye As fixt as marble, with a forehead ridg'd, And furrow'd into ftorms, and with a hand Trembling, as if eternity were hung In balance, on his conduct of a pin? Nor envies he aught more their idle sport, Who pant with application, misapply'd To trivial joys, and pushing iv'ry balls Across the velvet level, feel a joy Akin to rapture, when the bawble finds Its deftin'd goal of difficult accefs,

Nor deems he wifer him, who gives his noon

To

To Mifs, the Mercer's plague, from shop to shop
Wand'ring, and litt'ring with unfolded filks,
The polish'd counter, and approving none,
Or promifing, with smiles, to call again.
Nor him, who by his vanity seduc'd,
And footh'd into a dream, that he difcerns
The diff'rence of a Guido from a daub,
Frequents the crowded auction. Station'd there,
As duly as the Langford of the show,
With glass at eye, and catalogue in hand,
And tongue accomplish'd in the fulfome cant,
And pedantry, that coxcombs learn with ease.
Oft as the price-deciding hammer falls,
· He notes it in his book, then raps his box,
Swears 'tis a bargain, rails at his hard fate,
That he has let it pafs-but never bids.

Here unmolefted, through whatever fign The fun proceeds, I wander. Neither mist, Nor freezing fky, nor fultry, checking me, Nor ftranger intermeddling with my joy. Ev'n in the fpring, and play-time of the year, That calls the unwonted villager abroad, With all her little ones, a fportive train, To gather king-cups, in the yellow mead, And prink their hair with daifies, or to pick A cheap, but wholfome fallad from the brook, These shades are all my own. The tim'rous hare, Grown fo familiar with her frequent guest, Scarce fhuns me; and the ftock-dove, unalarm'd,

Y

Sits

Sits cooing in the pine-tree, nor fufpends
His long love ditty, for my near approach.
Drawn from his refuge in fome lonely elm,
That age or injury has hollow'd deep,
Whereon his bed of wool, and matted leaves,
He has outslept the winter, ventures forth
To frifk a while, and bafk in the warm fun,
The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play.
He fees me, and at once, swift as a bird,

Afcends the neighb'ring beech; there whisks his brush,
And perks his ears, and ftamps, and fcolds aloud,
With all the prettinefs of feign'd alarm,
And anger infignificantly fierce.

The heart is hard in nature, and unfit
For human fellowship, as being void
Of fympathy, and therefore dead alike
To love and friendship both, that is not pleas'd
With fight of animals enjoying life,

Nor feels their happiness augment his own.
The bounding fawn, that darts across the glade
When none purfues, through mere delight of heart,
And fpirits buoyant with excefs of glee;

The horse, as wanton, and almost as fleet,

That fims the fpacious meadow at full speed,

Then flops, and fnorts, and throwing high his heels,
Starts to the voluntary race again;

The very kine, that gambol at high noon,
The total berd, receiving first from one
That leads the dance, a fummons to be gay,

Though

Though wild their strange vagaries, and uncouth
Their efforts, yet refolv'd, with one confent,
To give fuch act and utt'rance as they may,
To extafy, too big to be fupprefs'd-
These, and a thousand images of blifs,
With which kind nature graces ev'ry scene,
Where cruel man defeats not her defign,
Impart to the benevolent, who wish
All that are capable of pleasure, pleas'd,
A far fuperior happiness to theirs,
The comfort of a reasonable joy..

Man fcarce had ris'n, obedient to his call
Who form'd him, from the duft, his future grave,
When he was crown'd, as never king was fince.
God fet the diadem upon his head,

And angel choirs attended. Wond'ring food,
The new-made monarch, while before him pass'd
All happy, and all perfect in their kind,

The creatures fummon'd from their various haunts,
To fee their fov'reign, and confess his sway.
Vast was his empire, absolute his

power,

Or bounded only by a law, whose force

'Twas his fublimeft privelege to feel

And own, the law of universal love.

He rul'd with meekness, they obey'd with joy.

No cruel purpose lurk'd within his heart,
And no diftruft of his intent in theirs.

So Eden was a scene of harmless sport,

Where kindnefs, on his part, who rul'd the whole,

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Begat a tranquil confidence in all,

And fear, as yet, was not, nor caufe for fear.
But fin marr'd all; and the revolt of man,
That fource of evils not exhaufted yet,
Was punifh'd with revolt of his from him.
Garden of God, how terrible the change,
Thy groves and lawns then witnefs'd! ev'ry heart,
Each animal of ev'ry name, conceiv'd.

A jealoufy, and an inftinctive fear,
And confcious of fome danger, either fled
Precipitate, the loath'd abode of man,
Or growl'd defiance in fuch angry fort,
As taught him too to tremble in his turn.
Thus harmony, and family accord,
Were driv'n from Paradife; and: in that hour,
The feeds of cruelty, that fince have fwell'd
To fuch gigantic and enormous growth,
Were fown in human nature's fruitful foil.
Hence date the perfecution and the pain,
That man inflicts on all inferior kinds,
Regardless of their plaints. To make him sport,
To gratify the frenzy of his wrath,
Or his base gluttony, are caufes good,
And juft in his account, why bird and beast
Should fuffer torture, and the ftreams be dy'd
With blood of their inhabitants impal'd..
Earth
beneath the burthen of a war,
groans
Wag'd with defenceless innocence, while he,
Not fatisfy'd to prey on all around,

Adds tenfold bitterness to death, by pangs

Need

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