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O'er these, but far beyond (a spacious map

Of hill and valley interpos'd between),

The Oufe, dividing the well-water'd land,

Now glitters in the fun, and now retires,
As bashful, 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 share: the guiltless eye Commits no wrong, nor wastes what it enjoys. Refreshing change! where now the blazing fun? By short transition we have lost 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 survives.

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How airy and how light the graceful arch,
Yet awful as the confecrated roof om 0

Re-echoing pious anthems! while beneath
The chequer'd earth feems restless as a flood

Brush'd by the wind. So sportive is the light cha
Shot through the boughs, it dances as they dance,

Shadow and funshine intermingling quick,
And dark'ning and enlight'ning, as the leaves

Play wanton, ev'ry moment, ev'ry spot.

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And now, with nerves new-brac'd and spirits cheer'd,

We tread the wilderness, whose well-roll'd walks,

With curvature of flow and easy sweep

::

Deception innocent-give ample space

To narrow bounds. The grove receives us next;

Between the upright shafts of whose tall elms

We may difcern the thresher at his task.

Thump after thump resounds the constant flail,

That seems to swing uncertain, and yet falls

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Full on the destin'd ear. Wide flies the chaff.

The rustling straw sends up a frequent mist
Of atoms, sparkling in the noon-day beam.
Come hither, ye that press your beds of down,
And fleep not: see him sweating o'er his bread
Before he eats it.-'Tis the primal curse,
But foften'd into mercy; made the pledge
Of cheerful days, and nights without a groan.

By ceaseless action all that is subsifts.
Constant rotation of th' unwearied wheel
That nature rides upon maintains her health,
Her beauty, her fertility. She dreads

An instant'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 ufe,
Else noxious: oceans, rivers, lakes, and streams,
All feel the fresh'ning impulse, and are cleans'd

By restless undulation: ev'n the oak
Thrives by the rude concussion of the storm:
He feems indeed indignant, and to feel

Th' impreffion of the blast with proud disdain,
Frowning, as if in his unconscious arm

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He held the thunder: but the monarch owes
His firm stability to what he scorns-
More fixt below, the more disturb'd above.
The law, by which all creatures else are bound,
Binds man the lord of all. Himself derives
No mean advantage from a kindred cause,
From strenuous toil his hours of sweetest ease.
The sedentary stretch their lazy length
When custom bids, but no refreshment find,
For none they need: the languid eye, the cheek
Deserted of its bloom, the flaccid, shrunk,
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

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By its true worth, the comforts it affords,
And their's alone seems worthy of the name.
(Good health, and, its afsociate in most,
Good temper, spirits prompt to undertake,
And not foon fpent, though in an arduous tafk;
The pow'rs of fancy and strong thought are their's;
Ev'n age itself seems privileg'd in them,
With clear exemption from its own defects.
A fparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front
The vet'ran shows, and, gracing a gray beard
With youthful fmiles, descends toward the grave
Sprightly, and old almost without decay.

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Like a coy maiden, eafe, when courted moft,

Farthest retires-an idol, at whose shrine

Who oft'neft facrifice are favour'd leaft.

The love of Nature, and the scenes she 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

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