Afford them shelter from the wintry winds;
Or, as the fharp year pinches, with their own
Again regale them on some smiling day?
See where the ftony bottom of their town
Looks defolate, and wild; with here and there
A helpless number, who the ruin'd state
Survive, lamenting weak, cast out to death.
Thus a proud city, populous and rich,
Full of the works of peace, and high in joy, 1200 At theatre or feast, or funk in fleep,
(As late, Palermo, was thy fate) is feiz'd
By fome dread earthquake, and convulfive hurl'd Sheer from the black foundation, ftench-involv'd, Into a gulph of blue fulphureous flame.
HENCE every harfher fight! for now the day, O'er heaven and earth diffus'd, grows warm, and high, Infinite fplendor! wide investing all. How still the breeze! fave what the filmy threads Of dew evaporate brushes from the plain. How clear the cloudless sky! how deeply ting'd With a peculiar blue! the ethereal arch How fwell'd immenfe! amid whofe azure thron'd The radiant fun how gay! how calm below The gilded earth! the harvest-treasures all Now gather'd in, beyond the rage of storms, Sure to the swain; the circling fence shut up; And inftant Winter's utmost rage defy'd. While, loofe to feftive joy, the country round Laughs with the loud fincerity of mirth, Shook to the wind their cares. The toil-ftrung youth
By the quick fenfe of mufic taught alone,
Leaps wildly graceful in the lively dance.
Her every charm abroad, the village-toaft,
Young, buxom, warm, in native beauty rich, 1225
Darts not unmeaning looks; and, where her eye
Points an approving smile, with double force,
The cudgel rattles, and the wrestler twines.
Age too fhines out; and, garrulous, recounts
The feats of youth. Thus they rejoice; nor think
That, with to-morrow's fun, their annual toil 1231
Begins again the never-ceafing round.
OH knew he but his happiness, of Men
The happiest he! who far from public rage,
Deep in the vale, with a choice Few retir'd,
Drinks the pure pleasures of the RURAL LIFE.
What tho' the dome be wanting, whofe proud gate,
Each morning, vomits out the sneaking crowd
Of flatterers false, and in their turn abus'd?
Vile intercourfe! What tho' the glittering robe, 1240
Of every hue reflected light can give,
Or floating loofe, or stiff with mazy gold,
The pride and gaze of fools! oppress him not?
What tho', from utmost land and fea purvey'd,
For him each rarer tributary life
Bleeds not, and his infatiate table heaps
With luxury, and death? What tho' his bowl
Flames not with coftly juice; nor funk in beds,
Oft of gay care, he toffes out the night,
Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle state?
What tho' he knows not those fantastic joys,
That still amuse the wanton, ftill deceive;
A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain;
Their hollow moments undelighted all ?
Sure peace is his; a folid life, eftranged
To disappointment, and fallacious hope:
Rich in content, in Nature's bounty rich,
In herbs and fruits; whatever greens the Spring,
When heaven defcends in showers; or bends the bough
When Summer reddens, and when Autumn beams;
Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies
Conceal'd, and fattens with the richest sap :
These art not wanting; nor the milky drove,
Luxuriant, fpread o'er all the lowing vale;
Nor bleating mountains; nor the chide of streams,
And hum of bees, inviting fleep fincere
Into the guiltless breast, beneath the shade,
Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay ;
Nor ought befides of profpect, grove, or fong,
Dim grottoes, gleaming lakes, and fountain clear. 1270
Here too dwells fimple truth; plain innocence;
Unfullied beauty; found unbroken youth,
Patient of labour, with a little pleas'd;
Health every blooming; unambitious toil;
Calm contemplation, and poetic ease.
LET others brave the flood in queft of gain, And beat, for joyless months, the gloomy wave. Let fuch as deem it glory to destroy,
Rush into blood, the fack of cities seek ;
Unpierc'd, exulting in the widow's wail,
The virgin's fhriek, and infant's trembling cry...
Let fome, far-distant from their native foil,
Urg'd or by want or hardened avarice,
Find other lands beneath another fun.
Let this through cities work his eager way,
By legal outrage and establish'd guile,
The focial fenfe extinct; and that ferment
Mad into tumult the feditious herd,
Or melt them down to flavery. Let thefe
Infnare the wretched in the toils of law,
Fomenting difcord, and perplexing right,
An iron race! and those of fairer front,
But equal inhumanity, in courts,
Delufive pomp, and dark cabals, delight;
Wreathe the deep bow, diffuse the lying fmile, 1295
And tread the weary labyrinth of state.
While he, from all the stormy passions free
That reftlefs Men involve, hears, and but hears,
At diftance fafe, the human tempeft roar,
Wrapt
clofe in conscious peace. The fall of kings,
The rage
of nations, and the crush of states,
1301
Move not the Man, who, from the world efcap'd,
In still retreats, and flowery folitudes,
To Nature's voice attends, from month to month,
And day to day, thro' the revolving year;
Admiring, fees her in her every fhape;
Feels all her fweet emotions at his heart;
Takes what she liberal gives, nor thinks of more.
He, when young Spring protrudes the bursting gems,
Marks the first bud, and fucks the healthful gale 1310.
Into his freshened foul; her genial hours
He full enjoys; and not a beauty blows,
And not an opening bloffom breathes in vain.
In Summer he, beneath the living fhade,
Such as o'er frigid Tempe wont to wave,
Or Hemus cool, reads what the Mufe, of thefe
Perhaps, has in immortal numbers fung;
Or what she dictates writes: and, oft an eye
Shot round, rejoices in the vigorous year.
When Autumn's yellow luftre gilds the world, 1320
And tempts the fickled fwain into the field,
Seiz'd by the general joy, his heart diftends
With gentle throws; and, thro' the tepid gleams
Deep mufing, then he best exerts his fong.
Even Winter wild to him is full of blifs.
The mighty tempeft, and the hoary waste,
Abrupt, and deep, ftretch'd o'er the buried earth, Awake to folemn thought. At night the skies, Difclos'd, and kindled, by refining froft,
Pour every luftre on th' exalted eye.
A friend a book the ftealing hours fecure,
And mark them down for wisdom. With fwift wing,
O'er land and fea imagination roams;
Or truth, divinely breaking on his mind,
Elates his being, and unfolds his powers;
Or in his breast heroic virtue burns.
The touch of kindred too and love he feels;
The modeft eye, whose beams on his alone
Extatic fhine; the little ftrong embrace
Of prattling children, twin'd around his neck, 1340
And emulous to please him, calling forth
The fond parental foul. Nor purpose gay,
|
