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Its infant way; nor Order yet had drawn
The miny caverns, blazing on the day, His lovely train from out the dubious gloom. Of Abyssinia's cloud-compelling cliffs,
These roving mists, that constant now begin And of the bending Mountains of the Moon !+ To smoke along the hilly country, these,
O'ertopping all these giant sons of Earth, With weighty rains, and melted Alpine snows, Let the dire Andes, from the radiant line The mountain-cisterns fill, those ample stores Stretch'd to the stormy seas that thunder round Of water, scoop'd among the hollow rocks ; The southern Pole, their hideous deeps unfold! Whence gush the streams, the ceaseless fountains play, Amazing scene! Behold! the glooms disclose, And their unfailing wealth the rivers draw. I see the rivers in their infant beds! Some sages say, that, where the numerous wave Deep, deep I hear them, laboring to get free! For ever lashes the resounding shore,
I see the leaning strata, artful rang'd; Drill'd through the sandy stratum, every way, The gaping fissures to receive the rains, The waters with the sandy stratum rise ;
The melting snows, and ever-dripping fogs. Amid whose angles infinitely strain'd,
Strow'd bibulous above I see the sands, They joyful leave their jaggy salts behind, The pebbly gravel next, the layers then And clear and sweeten, as they soak along. Of mingled moulds, of more retentive earths, Nor stops the restless fluid, mounting still, The gutter'd rocks, and mazy-running clefts ; Though oft amidst th' irriguous vale it springs ; That, while the stealing moisture they transmit, But to the mountain courted by the sand,
Retard its motion, and forbid its waste. That leads it darkling on in faithful maze,
Beneath th' incessant weeping of these drains, Far from the parent main, it boils again
I see the rocky syphons stretch'd immense, Fresh into day; and all the glittering hill The mighty reservoirs, of harden'd chalk, Is bright with spouting rills. But hence this vain Or stiff-compacted clay, capacious form’d. Amusive dream! why should the waters love O'erflowing thence, the congregated stores, To take so far a journey to the hills,
The crystal treasures of the liquid world, When the sweet valleys offer to their toil Through the stirr'd sands a bubbling passage burst, Inviting quiet, and a nearer bed ?
And, swelling out, around the middle steep, Or if, by blind ambition led astray,
Or from the bottoms of the bosom'd hills, They must aspire ; why should they sudden stop In pure effusion flow. United, thus, Among the broken mountain's rushy dells, Th' exhaling Sun, the vapor-burden'd air, And, ere they gain its highest peak, desert The gelid mountains, that to rain condens'd Th'attractive sand that charm'd their course so long? These vapors in continual current draw, Besides, the hard agglomerating salts,
And send them, o'er the fair divided earth, The spoil of ages, would impervious choke In bounteous rivers to the deep again, Their secret channels ; or, by slow degrees, A social commerce hold, and firm support High as the hills protrude the swelling vales : The full-adjusted harmony of things. Old Ocean too, suck'd through the porous globe, When Autumn scatters his departing gleams, Had long ere now forsook his horrid bed, Warn’d of approaching Winter, gather’d, play And brought Deucalion's watery times again. The swallow-people; and toss'd wide around,
Say then, where lurk the vast eternal springs, O'er the calm sky, in convolution swift, That, like Creating Nature, lie conceal'd
The feather'd eddy floats: rejoicing once, From mortal eye, yet with their lavish stores Ere to their wintry slumbers they retire ; Refresh the globe, and all its joyous tribes? In clusters clung, beneath the mouldering bank, O, thou pervading Genius, given to man,
And where, unpierc'd by frost, the cavern sweats, To trace the secrets of the dark abyss,
Or rather into warmer climes convey'd,
Where the Rhine loses his majestic force
And now their route design'd, their leaders chose,
Wheel'd round and round, in congregation full And all the dreadful mountains, wrapt in storm, The figur'd flight ascends; and, riding high Whence wide Siberia draws her lonely floods ; Th' aërial billows, mixes with the clouds. O, sweep th' eternal snows ! Hung o'er the deep, Or where the Northern Ocean, in vast whirls, That ever works beneath his sounding base, Boils round the naked melancholy isles Bid Atlas, propping Heaven, as poets feign, Of farthest Thulé, and th' Atlantic surge His subterranean wonders spread ! unveil Pours in among the stormy Hebrides;
Who can recount what transmigrations there The Muscovites call the Riphean mountains Weliki Camenypoys, that is, the great stony girdle; because they † A range of mountains in Africa, that surround alsuppose them to encompass the whole earth.
most all Monomotapa.
Are annual made? what nations come and go? Calm, and intrepid, in the very throat
Nor less the palm of peace inwreathes thy brow: And rude resounding shore are one wild cry. For, powerful as thy sword, from thy rich tongue
Here the plain harmless native his small flock, Persuasion flows, and wins the high debate ; And herd diminutive of many hues,
While mix'd in thee combine the charm of youth, Tends on the little island's verdant swell,
The force of manhood, and the depth of age. The shepherd's sea-girt reign; or, to the rocks Thee, Forbes, too, whom every worth attends, Dire-clinging, gathers his ovarious food;
As truth sincere, as weeping friendship kind, Or sweeps the fishy shore ; or treasures up Thee, truly generous, and in silence great, The plumage, rising full, to form the bed
Thy country feels through her reviving arts, of luxury. And here awhile the Muse,
Plann'd by thy wisdom, by thy soul informd ; High hovering o'er the broad cerulean scene, And seldom has she known a friend like thee. Sees Caledonia, in romantic view :
But see the fading many-color'd woods, Her airy mountains, from the waving main, Shade deepening over shade, the country round Invested with a keen diffusive sky,
Imbrown; a crowded umbrage, dusk, and dun, Breathing the soul acute; her forests huge, of every hue, from wan-declining green Incult, robust, and tall, by Nature's hand To sooty dark. These now the lonesome Muse, Planted of old ; her azure lakes between,
Low-whispering, lead into their leaf-strown walks, Pour'd out extensive, and of watery wealth And give the season in its latest view. Full; winding deep, and green, her fertile vales ; Meantime, light shadowing all, a sober calm With many a cool translucent brimming flood Fleeces unbounded ether; whose least wave Wash'd lovely from the Tweed (pure parent stream, Stands tremulous, uncertain where to turn Whose pastoral banks first heard my Doric reed, The gentle current : while illumind wide, With sylvan Jed, thy tributary brook)
T'he dewy-skirted clouds imbibe the Sun, To where the north-inflated tempest foams And through their lucid vale his soften’d force O'er Orca's or Betubium's highest peak :
Shed o'er the peaceful world. Then is the time, Nurse of a people, in misfortune's school
For those whom Wisdom and whom Nature charm, Train'd up to hardy deeds ; soon visited
To steal themselves from the degenerate crowd, By Learning, when before the Gothic rage
And soar above this little scene of things ; She took her western flight. A manly race, To tread low-thoughted Vice beneath their feet; Of unsubmitting spirit, wise, and brave;
To soothe the throbbing passions into peace; Who still through bleeding ages struggled hard, And woo lone Quiet in her silent walks. (As well unhappy Wallace can attest,
Thus solitary, and in pensive guise, Great patriot-hero! ill-requited chief !)
Oft let me wander o'er the russet mead, To hold a generous undiminish'd state;
And through the sadden'd grove, where scarce is heard Too much in vain! Hence of unequal bounds One dying strain, to cheer the woodman's toil. Impatient, and by tempting glory borne
Haply some widow'd songster pours his plaint, O'er every land, for every land iheir life
Far, in faint warblings, through the tawny copse ; Has flow'd profuse, their piercing genius plann'd While congregated thrushes, linnets, larks, And swell’d the pomp of peace their faithful toil, And each wild throat, whose artless strains so late As from their own clear north, in radiant streams, Swellid all the music of the swarming shades, Bright over Europe bursts the Boreal morn. Robb’d of their tuneful souls, now shivering sit
Oh, is there not some patriot, in whose power On the dead tree, a dull despondent Aock ; That best, that godlike luxury is plac'd,
With not a brightness waving o'er their plumes, Of blessing thousands, thousands yet unborn, And nought save chattering discord in their note. Through late posterity ? some, large of soul, 0, let not, aim'd from some inhuman eye, To cheer dejected industry? to give
The gun the music of the coming year
Destroy; and harmless, unsuspecting harm,
In mingled murder, fluttering on the ground !
Roll wide the wither'd waste, and whistle bleak Bid Britain reign the mistress of the deep? Fled is the blasted verdure of the fields ;
Yes, there are such. And full on thee, Argyll, And, shrunk into their beds, the flowery race Her hope, her stay, her darling, and her boast, Their sunny robes resign. Ev’n what remain'd From her first patriots and her heroes sprung, Of stronger fruits falls from the naked tree ; Thy fond imploring country turns her eye; And woods, fields, gardens, orchards, all around In thee, with all a mother's triumph, sees
The desolated prospect thrills the soul. Her every virtue, every grace combind,
He comes! he comes in every breeze the power Her genius, wisdom, her engaging turn,
Of philosophic Melancholy comes !
The glowing cheek, the mild dejected air, Instead of squadrons flaming o'er the field,
When keen, once more, within their bounds to press Infuses every tenderness; and far
Those polish'd robbers, those ambitious slaves, Beyond dim Earth exalts the swelling thought. The British youth would hail thy wise command, Ten thousand thousand fleet ideas, such
Thy temper'd ardor, and thy veteran skill. As never mingled with the vulgar dream,
The western Sun withdraws the shorten'd day; Crowd fast into the mind's creative eye.
And humid Evening. gliding o'er the sky, As fast the correspondent passions rise,
In her chill progress, to the ground condens'd As varied, and as high : devotion rais'd
The vapor throws. Where creeping waters ooze, To rapture, and divine astonishment;
Where marshes stagnate, and where rivers wind, The love of Nature unconfin'd, and, chief, Cluster the rolling fogs, and swim along Of human race; the large ambitious wish, The dusky-mantled lawn. Meanwhile the Moon, To make them blest; the sigh for suffering worth Full-orb'd, and breaking through the scatter'd clouds, Lost in obscurity; the noble scorn
Shows her broad visage in the crimson'd east. Of tyrant-pride; the fearless great resolve ; Turn'd to the Sun direct, her spotted disk, The wonder which the dying patriot draws, Where mountains rise, umbrageous dales descend, Inspiring glory through remotest time;
And caverns deep, as optic tube descries, Th' awaken'd throb for virtue, and for fame; A smaller Earth, gives us his blaze again, The sympathies of love, and friendship dear; Void of its flame, and sheds a softer day. With all the social offspring of the heart.
Now through the passing cloud she seems to stoop, Oh, bear me then to vast embowering shades, Now up the pure cerulean rides sublime. To twilight groves, and visionary vales ;
Wide the pale deluge floats, and streaming mild To weeping grottoes, and prophetic glooms; O'er the sky'd mountain to the shadowy vale, Where angel forms athwart the solemn dusk While rocks and floods reflect the quivering gleam, Tremendous sweep, or seem to sweep along; The whole air whitens with a boundless tide And voices more than human, through the void Of silver radiance, trembling round the world. Deep-sounding, seize the enthusiastic ear!
But when half-blotted from the sky, her light, Or is this gloom too much ? Then lead, ye powers, Fainting, permits the starry fires to burn That o'er the garden and the rural seat
With keener lustre through the depth of Heaven; Preside, which shining through the cheerful land Or near extinct her deadend orb appears, In countless numbers blest Britannia sees;
And scarce appears, of sickly beamless white; 0, lead me to the wide-extended walks,
Oft in this season, silent from the north The fair majestic paradise of Stowe !*
A blaze of meteors shoots ; ensweeping first Not Persian Cyrus on Ionia's shore
The lower skies, they all at once converge E'er saw such sylvan scenes ; such various art High to the crown of Heaven, and all at once By genius fir'd, such ardent genius tam'd
Relapsing quick, as quickly reascend, By cool judicious art; that, in the strife,
And mix, and thwart, extinguish, and renew, All-beauteous Nature fears to be outdone.
All ether coursing in a maze of light. And there, 0 Pitt, thy country's early boast,
From look to look, contagious through the crowdy There let me sit beneath the shelter'd slopes, The panic runs, and into wondrous shapes Or in that templet where, in future times, Th' appearance throws : armies in meet array, Thou well shalt merit a distinguish'd name; Throng'd with aërial spears and steeds of fire And, with thy converse blest, catch the last smiles Till the long lines of full-extended war Of Autumn beaming o'er the yellow woods. In bleeding fight commix'd, the sanguine flood While there with thee th' enchanted round I walk Rolls a broad slaughter o'er the plains of Heaven. The regulated wild, gay Fancy then
As thus they scan the visionary scene, Will tread in thought the groves of Attic land ; On all sides swells the superstitious din, Will from thy standard taste refine her own, Incontinent; and busy Frenzy talks Correct her pencil to the purest truth
of blood and battle ; cities overturn'd, Of Nature, or, the unimpassion'd shades
And late at night in swallowing earthquake sunk, Forsaking, raise it to the human mind.
Or hideous wrapt in fierce ascending flame; Or if hereafter she, with juster hand,
of sallow famine, inundation, storm ;
Th' unalterable hour: ev'n Nature's self
Now black, and deep, the night begins to fall, What pity, Cobham, thou thy verdant files A shade immense. Sunk in the quenching gloom, of order'd trees shouldst here inglorious range, Magnificent and vast, are Heaven and Earth.
Order confounded lies; all beauty void;
One universal blot: such the fair power
of dew evaporate brushes from the plain. of light, to kindle and create the whole.
How clear the cloudless sky! how deeply ting'd Drear is the state of the benighted wretch, With a peculiar blue! th' ethereal arch Who then, bewilder'd, wanders through the dark, How swell'd immense! amid whose azure thron'd Full of pale fancies, and chimeras huge ;
The radiant Sun how gay! how calm below Nor visited by one directive ray,
The gilded Earth! the harvest-treasures all From cottage streaming, or from airy hall. Now gather'd in, beyond the rage of storms, Perhaps, impatient as he stumbles on,
Sure to the swain ; the circling fence shut up; Struck from the root of slimy rushes, blue, And instant Winter's utmost rage defied. The wild-fire scatters round, or gather'd trails While, loose to festive joy, the country round A length of flame deceitful o'er the moss : Laughs with the loud sincerity of mirth, Whither decoy'd by the fantastic blaze,
Shook to the wind their cares. The toil-strung youth, Now lost, and now renew'd, he sinks absorpt, By the quick sense of music taught alone, Rider and horse, amid the miry gulf:
Leaps wildly graceful in the lively dance. While still, from day to day, his pining wife Her every charm abroad, the village toast, And plaintive children his return await,
Young, buxom, warm, in native beauty rich, In wild conjecture lost. At other times,
Darts not unmeaning looks; and, where her eye Sent by the better genius of the night,
Points an approving smile, with double force Innoxious, gleaming on the horse's mane,
The cudgel rattles, and the wrestler twines. The meteor sits ; and shows the narrow path, Age, too, shines out; and, garrulous, recounts That winding leads through pits of death, or else The feats of youth. Thus they rejoice ; nor think Instructs him how to take the dangerous ford. That, with to-morrow's Sun, their annual toil
The lengthen'd night elaps'd, the Morning shines Begins again the never-ceasing round. Serene, in all her dewy beauty bright,
Oh, knew he but his happiness, of men Unfolding fair the last autumnal day.
The happiest he! who, far from public rage, And now the mounting Sun dispels the fog ; Deep in the vale, with a choice few retir'd, The rigid hoar-frost melts before his beam; Drinks the pure pleasures of the rural life. And hung on every spray, on every blade What though the dome be wanting, whose proud gate, Of grass, the myriad dew-drops twinkle round. Each morning, vomits out the sneaking crowd
Ah, see, where robb’d, and murder'd, in that pit of flatterers false, and in their turn abus'd ? Lies the still heaving hive! at evening snatch'd, Vile intercourse! What though the glittering robe, Beneath the cloud of guilt-concealing night, Of every hue reflected light can give, And fix'd o'er sulphur: while, not dreaming ill, Or floating loose, or stiff with massy gold, The happy people, in their waxen cells,
The pride and gaze of fools ! oppress him not? Sat tending public cares, and planning schemes What though, from utmost land and sea purvey'd, of temperance, for Winter poor ; rejoic'd For him each rarer tributary life To mark, full-flowing round, their copious stores. Bleeds not, and his insatiate table heaps Sudden the dark oppressive steam ascends; With luxury and death? What though his bowl And, us’d to milder scents, the tender race, Flames not with costly juice : nor sunk in beds, By thousands, tumble from their honied domes, Oft of gay care, he tosses out the night, Convolv'd, and agonizing in the dust.
Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle state ? And was it then for this you roam'd the Spring, What though he knows not those fantastic joys, Intent from flower to flower? for this you toil'd That still amuse the wanton, still deceive; Ceaseless the burning Summer-heats away? A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain ; For this in Autumn search'd the blooming waste, Their hollow moments undelighted all ? Nor lost one sunny gleam? for this sad fate? Sure peace is his; a solid life, estrang'd O, man! tyrannic lord ! how long, how long, To disappointment, and fallacious hope : Shall prostrate Nature groan beneath your rage, Rich in content, in Nature's bounty rich, Awaiting renovation? When oblig'd,
In herbs and fruits; whatever greens the Spring, Must you destroy ? Of their ambrosial food When Heaven descends in showers; or bends the Can you not borrow; and, in just return,
bough Afford them shelter from the wintry winds ? When Summer reddens, and when Autumn beams; Or, as the sharp year pinches, with their own Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies Again regale them on some smiling day?
Conceal’d, and fattens with the richest sap :
These are not wanting; nor the milky drove,
Nor bleating mountains ; nor the chide of streams,
Into the guiltless breast, beneath the shade, Full of the works of peace, and high in joy, Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay ; At theatre or feast, or sunk in sleep,
Nor aught besides of prospect, grove, or song, (As late, Palermo, was thy fate !) is seiz'd
Dim grottoes, gleaming lakes, and fountains clear.
Patient of labor, with a little pleas'd ;
Let others brave the flood in quest of gain,
And beat, for joyless months, the gloomy wave : How still the breeze! save what the filmy threads Let such as deem it glory to destroy,
Rush into blood, the sack of cities seek;
Led by primeval ages, uncorrupt, Unpierc'd, exulting in the widow's wail,
When angels dwelt, and God himself, with man! The virgin's shriek, and infant's trembling cry. Oh, Nature! all-sufficient! over all! Let some, far distant from their native soil, Enrich me with the knowledge of thy works! Urg'd or by want or hardend avarice,
Snatch me to Heaven; thy rolling wonder there, Find other lands beneath another Sun.
World beyond world, in infinite extent, Let this through cities work his eager way, Profusely scatter'd o'er the blue immense, By regal outrage and establish'd guile,
Show me; their motions, periods, and their laws, The social sense extinct; and that serment
Give me to scan; through the disclosing deep Mad into tumult the seditious herd,
Light my blind way; the mineral strata there; Or melt them down to slavery. Let these Thrust, blooming, thence the vegetable world ; Insnare the wretched in the toils of law,
O'er that the rising system, more complex, Fomenting discord, and perplexing right,
of animals; and higher still, the mind, An iron race! and those of fairer front,
The varied scene of quick-compounded thought, But equal inhumanity, in courts,
And where the mixing passions endless shift; Delusive pomp, and dark cabals delight;
These ever open to my ravish'd eye ; Wreathe the deep bow, diffuse the lying smile, A search, the flight of time can ne'er exhaust! And tread the weary labyrinth of state.
But if to that unequal ; if the blood, While he, from all the stormy passions free In sluggish streams about my heart, forbid That resiless men involve, hears, and but hears, That best ambition ; under closing shades, At distance safe, the human tempest roar,
Inglorious, lay me by the lowly brook,
gems, Marks the first bud, and sucks the healthful gale
mington. First approach of Winter. According
to the natural course of the Season, various storms Into his freshen'd soul; her genial hours
described. Rain. Wind. Snow. The driving He full enjoys; and not a beauty blows,
of the snows : And not an opening blossom breathes in vain.
a man perishing among them; In Summer he, beneath the living shade,
whence reflections on the wants and miseries of Such as o'er frigid Tempé wont to wave,
human life. The wolves descending from the Or Hemus cool, reads what the Muse, of these,
Alps and Apennines. A winter evening dePerhaps, has in immortal numbers sung ;
scribed : as spent by philosophers; by the country Or what she dictates writes : and oft, an eye
people; in the city. Frost. A view of Winter Shot round, rejoices in the vigorous year.
within the polar circle. A thaw. The whole When Autumn's yellow lustre gilds the world,
concluding with moral reflections on a future state. And tempts the sickled swain into the field, Seiz'd by the general joy, his heart distends See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year, With gentle throes; and through the tepid gleams
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train, Deep musing, then he best exerts his song.
Vapors, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme! E'en Winter, mild to him, is full of bliss.
These ! that exalt the soul to solemn thought, The mighty tempest, and the hoary waste,
And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms ! Abrupt, and deep, stretch'd o'er the buried earth, Congenial horrors, hail! with frequent foot, Awake to solemn thought. At night the skies, Pleas'd have I, in my cheerful morn of life Disclos'd, and kindled, by refining frost,
When nursid by careless solitude I liv'd, Pour every lustre on th' exalted eye.
And sung of Nature with unceasing joy, A friend, a book, the stealing hours secure,
Pleas'd have I wander'd through your rough domain; And mark them down for wisdom. With swift wing, Trod the pure virgin-snows, myself as pure; O'er land and sea imagination roams;
Heard the winds roar, and the big torrent burst; Or truth, divinely breaking on his mind,
Or seen the deep fermenting tempest brew'd Elates his being, and unfolds his powers ;
In the grim evening sky. Thus pass'd the time, Or in his breast heroic virtue burns.
Till through the lucid chambers of the south The touch of kindred too and love he feels; Look' out the joyous Spring, look'd out, and smild. The modest eye, whose beams on his alone
To thee, the patron of her first essay, Ecstatic shine; the little strong embrace
The Muse, O Wilmington! renews her song. Of prattling children, twin'd around his neck, Since has she rounded the revolving year: And emulous to please him, calling forth
Skimm'd the gay Spring ; on eagle-pinions borne, The fond paternal soul. Nor purpose gay,
Attempted through the Summer-blaze to rise ; Amusement, dance, or song, he sternly scorns ; Then swept o'er Autumn with the shadowy gale, For happiness and true philosophy
And now among the Wintry clouds again, Are of the social still, and smiling kind.
Roll'd in the doubling storm, she tries to soar; This is the life which those who fret in guilt,
To swell her note with all the rushing winds, And guilty cities, never knew; the life,
To suit her sounding cadence to the floods ;