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The folded gates would bar my progress now,
But that the Lord of this inclosed demefne,
Communicative of the good he owns,
Admits me to a fhare: the guiltless eye
Commits no wrong, nor waftes what it enjoys.
Refreshing change! where now the blazing fun?
By short tranfition we have loft his glare
And stepp'd at once into a cooler clime.
Ye fallen avenues! once more I mourn
Your fate unmerited, once more rejoice
That yet a remnant of your race furvives.
How airy and how light the graceful arch,
Yet awful as the confecrated roof

Re-echoing pious anthems! while beneath.
The chequer'd earth feems reftless as a flood
Brush'd by the wind. So fportive is the light.
Shot through the boughs, it dances as they dance,
Shadow and funshine intermingling quick,
And darkning and enlightning, as the leaves
Play wanton, ev'ry moment, ev'ry spot.

And now with nerves new-brac'd and fpirits chear'd
We tread the wilderness, whose well-roll'd walks
With curvature of flow and easy fweep,
Deception innocent-give ample space

To narrow bounds. The grove receives us next;
Between the upright fhafts of whose tall elms
We may difcern the thresher at his task.
Thump after thump refounds the conftant flail,

See the foregoing note.

That

That feems to fwing uncertain, and yet falls
Full on the deftin'd ear. Wide flies the chaff,
The ruftling ftraw fends up a frequent mift
Of atoms fparkling in the noon-day beam.
Come hither, ye that prefs your beds of down
And fleep not: fee him fweating o'er his bread?
Before he eats it.-'Tis the primal curfe,
But foften'd into mercy; made the pledge
Of chearful days, and nights without a groan..

By ceafelefs action, all that is, fubfifts.
Conftant rotation of th' unwearied wheel
That nature rides upon, maintains her health,
Her beauty, her fertility. She dreads

An inftant's paufe, and lives but while fhe moves..
Its own revolvency upholds the world.
Winds from all quarters agitate the air,
And fit the limpid element for use,

Elfe noxious; oceans, rivers, lakes, and ftreams:
All feel the fresh'ning impulfe, and are cleanfed
By reftlefs undulation; ev'n the oak

Thrives by the rude concuffion of the ftorm;
He seems indeed indignant, and to feel
Th' impreffion of the blast with proud disdain,
Frowning as if in his unconscious arm

He held the thunder. But the monarch owes.
His firm ftability to what he fcorns,

More fixt below, the more difturb'd above.
The law by which all creatures else are bouud,
Binds man the lord of all. Himself derives

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No mean advantage from a kindred caufe,
From ftreneous toil his hours of fweeteft eafe.
The fedentary stretch their lazy length
When custom bids, but no refreshment find,
For none they need: the languid eye, the cheek
Deserted of its bloom, the flaccid, fhrunk,
And wither'd mufcle, and the vapid foul,
Reproach their owner with that love of reft
To which he forfeits ev'n the rest he loves.
Not fuch th' alert and active. Measure life
By its true worth, the comforts it affords,
And theirs alone feems worthy of the name.
Good health, and its afsociate in the most,

Good temper; fpirits prompt to undertake,

And not foon spent, though in an arduous task ;
The powers of fancy and ftrong thought are theirs
Ev'n age itself feems privileged in them
With clear exemption from its own defects.
A fparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front
The vet'ran fhows, and gracing a grey beard
With youthful fmiles, defcends toward the grave
Sprightly, and old almost without decay.

Like a coy maiden, eafe, when courted moft,
Fartheft retires-an idol, at whose shrine
Who oft'neft facrifice are favor'd leaft.

The love of Nature, and the scenes fhe draws
Is Nature's dictate. Strange! there should be found
Who felf-imprifon'd in their proud faloons,

Renounce the odors of the open field

For

For the unfcented fictions of the looms
Who fatisfied with only pencil'd fcenes,
Prefer to the performance of a God
Th' inferior wonders of an artift's hand.
Lovely indeed the mimic works of art,
But Nature's works far lovelier. I admire-
None more admires the painter's magic skill,
Who fhews me that which I fhall never fee,
Conveys a diftant country into mine,

And throws Italian light on English walls.
But imitative ftrokes can do no more
Than pleafe the eye, fweet Nature ev'ry sense.
The air falubrious of her lofty hills.
The chearing fragrance of her dewy vales
And mufic of her woods-no works of man
May rival thefe; thefe all befpeak a power
Peculiar, and exclufively her own.
Beneath the open fky fhe fpreads the feaft;
'Tis free to all-'tis ev'ry day renew'd,
Who fcorns it, flarves defervedly at home.
He does not fcorn it, who imprifon'd long
In fome unwholefome dungeon, and a prey
To fallow fickness, which the vapors dank
And clammy of his dark abode have bred,
Efcapes at laft to liberty and light.

His cheek recovers foon its healthful hue,
His eye relumines its extinguifh'd fires,

He walks, he leaps, he runs-is wing'd with joy,
And riots in the fweets of ev'ry breeze.

He does not fcorn it, who has long endur'd

A fever's

A fever's agonies, and fed on drugs.
Nor yet the mariner, his blood inflamed
With acrid falts; his very heart athirst
To gaze at Nature in her green array.
Upon the hip's tall fide he ftands, poffefs'd
With vifions prompted by intense defire;
Fair fields appear below, fuch as he left
Far diftant, fuch as he would die to find-
He feeks them headlong, and is feen no more.

The fpleen is feldom felt where Flora reigns;
The low'ring eye, the petulance, the frown,
And fullen fadnefs that o'erfhade, distort,
And mar the face of beauty, when no cause
For fuch immeasurable woe appears,

Thefe Flora banishes, and gives the fair

Sweet fmiles and bloom lefs tranfient than her own.
It is the conftant revolution, ftale

And taftelefs, of the fame repeated joys,
That palls and fatiates, and makes languid life
A pedlar's pack, that bows t'e bearer down.
Health suffers, and the spirits ebb; the heart
Recoils from its own choice-at the full feaft
Is famith'd-finds no mufic in the fong,
No fmartness in the jet, and wonders why.
Yet thousands ftill defire to journey on,
Though halt and weary of the path they tread.
The paralytic who can hold her cards
But cannot play them, borrows a friend's hand
To deal and fhuffle, to divide and fort
D

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