ག་

And quaff the fubtile ether. Here they dance
Or to the village-chimes, or moody fong
Of midnight Philomel. The ringlet fee
Fantastically trod There, Oberon
His gallant train leads out, the while his torch
The glow-worm lights and dufky night illumes.
And there they foot it featly round, and laugh.
The facred fpot the fuperftitious ewe
Regards, and bites it not in reverence.
Anon the drowfy clock tolls One the cock
His clarion founds the dance breaks off-the lights
Are quench'd-the mufic hufh'd-they speed away
Swifter than thought, and ftill the break of day
Out-run, and chafing midnight as the flies
Purfue her round the globe. So Fancy weaves
Her fiimfy web, while fober reafon fits,"
And fmiling wonders at the puny work,'
A net for her; then fprings on eagle wing,
Conftraint defies, and foars above the fun.

But mark with how peculiar grace, yon wood,
That clothes the weary fteep, waves in the breeze
Her fea of leaves; thither turn we our steps,

And by the way attend the cheerful found ·
Of woodland harmony, that always fills
The
vale between. How fweet the fong
merry
Day's harbinger attunes! I have not heard
Such elegant divifions drawn from art.
And what is che that wins our admiration?
A little fpeck that floats upon the fun-beam.
What vaft perfection cannot nature crowd
Into a puny point! The nightingale, staro
Her folo anthem fung, and all that heard
Content, joins in the chorus of the day,

She, gentle heart, thinks it no pain to please,

T

7

Nor, like the moody fongfters of the world,ourke der

Juf

Juft fhews her talent, pleafes, takes affront,
And locks it up in envy. Fa

I love to see the little goldfinch pluck

The groundfil's feather'd feed, and twit and twit;
And then in bow'r of apple bloffoms perch'd,
Trim his gay fuit, and pay us with a fong.
I would not hold him pris'ner for the world.

The chimney-haunting fwallow, too, my eye
And ear well pleafes! 1 delight to fee
How fuddenly he fkims the glaffy pool,
How quaintly dips, and with a bullet's speed
Whisks by. I love to be awake, and hear
His morning fong twitter'd to young-ey'd day.

But most of all it wins my admiration,
To view the fracture of this little work,

A bird's neft. Mark it well within, without. Dİ
No tool had he that wrought; no knife to cut,
No nail to fix, no bodkin to infert,

No glue to join; his little beak was all.
And yet how neatly finifh'd. What nice hand,
With ev'ry implement and means of art,

And twenty year's apprenticeship to boot, 15

god aau The bee obferve;

She too an artift is, and laughs at man
Who calls on rules the fightly hexagon

With truth to form; a cunning architect, a sú voqeli That at the roof begins her golden work, ́*

And builds without foundation. How the toils, mik And ftill from bud to bud, from flow'r to flow'r,y Travels the live-long day. Ye idle drones, o

That

That rather pilfer than your bread obtain

By honeft means like thefe, look here, and learh
How good, how fair, how honourable 'tis
To live by industry. The bufy tribes
Of bees fo emulous, are daily fed

With heaven's peculiar manna. 'Tis for them,
Unwearied alchymifts, the blooming world
Nectarious gold diftils. And bounteous heav'n,
Still to the diligent and active good,
Their very labour makes the certain caufe
Of future wealth. ¡

But fee, the setting fun

Puts on a milder countenance, and skirts
The undulated clouds, that cross his way

With glory visible. His axle cools, and

1

2

T

And his broad disk, tho' fervent, not intense wit
Foretells the near approach of matron night.
Ye fair, retreat! Your drooping flowers heed
Wholesome refreshment. Down the hedge-row patho
We haften home, and only flack our speed sulgar

To gaze a moment at the cuftom'di gap,odwór toy bik
That all fo unexpectedly prefents from eigendy or da
The clear cerulean profpect down the vale.
Difpers'd along the bottom flocks and herds,
Hay-ricks and cottages, befides a ftream
That filverly meanders here and there ;uic
And higher up, corn-fields, and pastures, hops,
And waving woods, and tufts, and lonely oaks, nor mi?
Thick interfpers'd as Nature beft was pleas'do ce!

Happy the man who truly loves his home, dia dura
And never wanders farther from his door
Than we have gone to-day who feels his heartind bak
Still drawing homeward, and delights like us
Once more to rest his foot on his own threshold. ¿lavsa

HURDIS,

BOOK VIII.

PATHETIC PIECES.

CHAP. I.

*

THE STORY OF LE FEVRE.

2

Ir was fome time in the fummer of that year in which

Dendermond was taken by the allies,-which was about feven years before my father came into the country,-and about as many after the time that my uncle Toby and Trim had privately decamped from my father's house in town, in order to lay fome of the fineft fieges to fome of the finest fortified cities in Europe-when my uncle Toby was one evening getting his fupper, with Trim fitting behind him at a fmall fideboard;- -The landlord of a little inn in the village came into the parlour with an empty phial in his hand to beg a glass or two of fack; 'Tis for a poor gentleman, -I think, of the army, faid the landlord, who has been taken ill at my houfe four days ago, and has never held up his head fince, or had a defire to taste any thing, till just now, that he has a fancy for a glafs of fack and a thin toaft, I think, fays he, taking his hand from his forehead, it would comfort me.

IF I could neither beg, borrow, or buy such a thing,-added the landlord,-1 would almost steal it for the poor gentleman, he is fo ill.

I hope in God

he

he will still mend, continued he,-we are all of us concerned for him

THOU art a good-natured foul, I will answer for thee, cried my uncle Toby; and thou shalt drink the poor gentleman's health in a glass of sack thyself,-and take a couple of bottles with my fervice, and tell him he is heartily welcome to them, and to a dozen more if they will do him good.

THOUGH I am perfuaded, faid my uncle Toby, as the landlord shut the door, he is a very compaffionate fellowTrim,-yet I cannot help entertaining a high opinion of his gueft too; there must be fomething more than common in him, that in fo fhort a time should win fo much upon the affections of his hoft:- And of his whole family, added the corporal, for they are all concerned for him.-Step after him, faid my uncle Toby,—do Trim,—and ask if he knows his name.

I HAVE quite forgot it, truly, faid the landlord, coming back into the parlour with the corporal,—but I can afk his fon again :-Has he a fon with him then? faid my uncle Toby. A boy, replied the landlord, of about eleven or twelve years of age;-but the poor creature has tasted almost as little as his father; he does nothing but mourn and lament for him night and day He has not stirred from the bed-fide these two days.

My uncle Toby laid down his knife and fork, and thrust his plate from before him, as the landlord gave him the account; and Trim, without being ordered, took away without faying one word, and in a few minutes after brought him his pipe and tobacco.

STAY in the room a little, faid my uncle Toby.TRIM!-faid my uncle Toby, after he had lighted his pipe, and fmoked about a dozen whiffs.-Trim came in front of his master, and made his bow; my uncle Toby fmoked on, and faid no more.-- ·Corporal ! faid my un