O'er thefe, but far beyond (a fpacious map
Of hill and valley interpos'd between),
The Ouse, dividing the well-water'd land,
Now glitters in the fun, and now retires,
As bafhful, yet impatient to be seen.

Hence the declivity is sharp and short,
And fuch the re-afcent; between them weeps
A little naiad her impov'rish'd urn

All fummer long, which winter fills again.

The folded gates would bar my progress now,

*

But that the lord of this enclos'd demesne,

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 fhort tranfition we have loft his glare,
And stepp'd at once into a cooler clime.
Ye fallen avenues! once more I mourn.

* See the foregoing note.

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 reftlefs as a flood

Brufh'd by the wind. So fportive is the light a

Shot through the boughs, it dances as they dance,
Shadow and funfhine intermingling quick,

And dark'ning and enlight'ning, as the leaves
Play wanton, ev'ry moment, ev'ry spot.

And now, with nerves new-brac'd and spirits cheer'd, We tread the wilderness, whofe well-roll'd walks, With curvature of flow and eafy fweep

Deception innocent-give ample space

To narrow bounds. The grove receives us next;
Between the upright fhafts of whofe tall elms
We may difcern the thresher at his task.

Thump after thump refounds the constant flail,

That seems to fwing uncertain, and yet falls
Full on the deftin'd ear. Wide flies the chaff.
The rustling straw fends up a frequent mist
Of atoms, sparkling 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 cheerful 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 she 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 cleans'd

By restless undulation: ev'n the oak

Thrives by the rude concuffion of the storm:
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 disturb'd above.

The law, by which all creatures elfe are bound,

Binds man the lord of all.

Himfelf derives

No mean advantage from a kindred cause,

From strenuous toil his hours of sweetest ease.

The fedentary stretch their lazy length

When cuftom bids, but no refreshment find,
For none they need: the languid eye, the cheek
Deserted of its bloom, the flaccid, fhrunk,
And wither'd muscle, and the vapid foul,
Reproach their owner with that love of rest
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 their's alone feems worthy of the name,
Good health, and, its affociate in most,

Good temper ; fpirits prompt to undertake,

And not foon spent, though in an arduous task;
The pow'rs of fancy and ftrong thought are their's;
Ev'n age itself seems privileg'd in them,
With clear exemption from its own defects.
A sparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front
The vet'ran fhows, and, gracing a gray beard-
With youthful fmiles, defcends toward the grave
Sprightly, and old almoft without decay.

Like a coy maiden, eafe, when courted most, Fartheft retires-an idol, at whofe fhrine

Who oft'neft facrifice are favour'd leaft.

The love of Nature, and the scenes fhe draws,

Is Nature's dictate. Strange! there should be found,

Who, felf-imprison'd in their proud faloons,

Renounce the odours of the open field