Those pois'nous fields with rank luxuriance crown'd,
Where the dark scorpion gathers death around :
Where at each step the stranger fears to wake
The rattling terrors of the 'vengeful snake ;
Where crouching tygers wait their hapless prey,
And favage men more murd'rous still than they
While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies,
Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies.
Far different these from ev'ry former scene,
The cooling brook, the graffy vested green,
The breezy covert of the warbling grove,
That only shelter'd thefts of harmless love.
Good heaven! what forrows gloom'd that parting day,
That call'd them from their native walks away;
When the poor exiles, ev'ry pleasure past,
Hung round their bow'rs, and fondly look'd their
And took a long farewel, and wish'd in vain
For feats like these beyond the western main;
And fhudd'ring ftill to face the diftant deep,
Return'd and wept, and still return'd to weep:
The good old fire, that first prepared to go
To new found worlds, and wept for other's woe;
But for himself, in confcious virtue brave,
He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave.
His lovely daughter, lovlier in her tears,
The fond companion of his helpless years,
Silent went next, neglectful of her charms,
And left a lover's for her father's arms.
With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes,
And bleft the cot where ev'ry pleasure rose :
And kifs'd her thoughtless babes with many a tear,
And clafp'd them close, in forrow doubly dear:
Whilst her fond husband ftrove to lend relief
In all the decent manliness of grief.
O luxury thou curft by heaven's decree, How ill exchang'd are things like these for theet How do thy potions with insidious joy Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy! Kingdoms by thee, to fickly greatness grown, Boaft of a florid vigour not their own.
At ev'ry draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mafs of rank unweildy woe:
Till fapp'd their ftrength, and ev'ry part unfound, Down, down they fink, and spread a ruin round.
Ev'n now the devastation is begun,
And half the bus'nefs of deftruction done;
Ev'n now, methinks, as pond'ring here I stand,
I fee the rural virtues leave the land.
Down where yon anch'ring vessels spread the fail,
That idly waiting flaps with every gale,
Downward they move, a melancholy band,
Pafs from the shore, and darken all the strand.
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Contented toil, and hospitable care,
And kind connubial tenderness are there;
And piety with wishes plac'd above,
And steady loyalty, and faithful love.
And thou, sweet Poetry, thou lovliest maid,
Still first to fly where sensual joys invade;
Unfit in these degen'rate times of shame,
To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame
Dear charming nymph, neglected and decry'd,
My fhame in crowds, my folitary pride.
Thou fource of all my blifs, and all my woe,
That found'ft me poor at firft, and keep'st me fo;
Thou guide by which the nobler arts excel,
Thou nurse of ev'ry virtue, fare thee well.
Farewel, and O, where'er thy voice be try'd,
On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's fide,
Whether where equinoctial fervours glow,
Or winter wraps the polar world in fnow,
Still let thy voice prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of th' inclement clime;
Aid flighted truth with thy perfuafive strain ;
Teach erring man to fpurn the rage of gain:
Teach him that states of native ftrength poffeft,
Though very poor, may still be very blest ;
That trade's proud empire haftes to fwift decay,
As ocean fweeps the labour'd mole away;
While felf-dependent power can time defy,
As rocks refift the billows and the sky.
TERN winter hence with all his train removes ; And cheerful fkies and limped streams are feen; Thick-fprouting foliage decorates the groves; Reviving herbage robes the fields in green.
Yet lovlier fcenes fhall crown th' advancing year,
When blooming fpring's full bounty is display'd:
The fmile of beauty ev'ry vale shall wear;
The voice of fong enliven ev'ry shade.
O fancy, paint not coming days too fair!
Oft for the profpects fprightly MAY fhould yield, Rain-pouring clouds have darken'd all the air, Or fnows untimely whiten'd o'er the field;
But fhould kind spring her wonted bounty fhow'r,
The fmile of beauty and the voice of fong;
If gloomy thought the human mind o'erpow'r,
Ev'n vernal hours glide unenjoy'd along.
I fhun the scenes where madd'ning paffion raves,
Where pride and folly high dominion hold,
And unrelenting avarice drives her flaves
O'er proftrate virtue in purfuit of gold;
The graffy lane, the wood-furrounded field,
The rude stone fence with fragrant wall-flow'rs gay,
The clay-built cot, to me more pleasure yield
Than all the pomp imperial domes display:
And yet ev'n here amid these secret shades,
Thefe fimple fcenes of unreprov'd delight,
Affliction's iron hand my breaft invades,
And death's dread dart is ever in my fight.
While genial funs to genial fhow'rs fucceed;
(The air all mildness, and the earth all bloom): While herds and flocks range fportive o'er the mead, Crop the fweet herb, and fnuff the rich perfume;
O why alone to hapless man deny'd
To tafte the blifs inferior beings boast? O why this fate that fear and pain divide
His few short hours on earth's delightful coaft?
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