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Some mingling ftir the melted tar, and fome
Deep on the new-fhorn vagrant's heaving side
To ftamp. his master's cypher ready ftand;
Others the unwilling wether drag along;
And, glorying in his might, the sturdy boy
Holds by the twisted horns th' indignant ram.
Behold where bound, and of its robe bereft
By needy man, that all-depending lord,

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How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies! What softness in its melancholy face,

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What dumb-complaining innocence appears!
Fear not, ye gentle Tribes! 'tis not the knife
Of horrid flaughter that is o'er you wav'd;
No, 'tis the tender fwain's well-guided fhears,
Who having now, to pay his annual care,
Borrowed your fleece, to you a cumbrous load,
Will fend you bounding to your hills again.
A fimple fcene! yet hence Britannia fees
Her folid grandeur rife; hence the commands
Th' exalted ftores of every brighter clime,
The treasures of the fun without his rage:
Hence, fervent all, with culture, toil, and arts,
Wide glows her land: her dreadful thunder, hence,
Rides o'er the waves fublime, and now, even now,
Impending hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coaft; 430
Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world.
'Tis raging noon, and, vertical, the fun

Darts on the head direct his forceful rays.
O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye

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Can fweep, a dazzling deluge reigns, and all 435
From pole to pole is undistinguish'd blaze.
In vain the fight, dejected to the ground,
Stoops for relief; thence hot-afcending teams,
And keen reflection, pain. Deep to the root
Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields
And flippery lawn an arid hue disclose,
Blaft Fancy's bloom, and wither even the foul.
Echo no more returns the cheerful found
Of sharpening fcythe; the mower finking, heaps
O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfum'd. 445
And scarce a chirping grafhopper is heard
Thro' the dumb mead. Diftrefsful Nature pants.
The very ftreams look languid from afar,
Or thro' th' unfhelter'd glade impatient seem
To hurl into the covert of the grove.

All-conquering Heat! oh intermit thy wrath!
And on my throbbing temples, potent thus,
Beam not fo fierce! inceffant ftill you flow,
And ftill another fervent flood fucceeds,
Pour'd on the head profufe. In vain I figh,
And reftlefs turn, and look around for night;
Night is far off; and hotter hours approach.
Thrice happy he! who on the funlefs fide
Of a romantic mountain, foreft-crown'd,
Beneath the whole collected fhade reclines;
Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought,
And fresh-bedew'd with ever-fpouting streams,

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Sits coolly calm, while all the world without,
Unfatisfied, and fick, toffes in noon:

Emblem inftructive of the virtuous man,

Who keeps his temper'd mind ferene and pure,

And every paffion aptly harmoniz'd,

Amid a jarring world with vice inflam'd.

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Welcome, ye Shades! ye bowery Thickets, hail ! Ye lofty Pines! ye venerable Oaks!

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Ye Ashes wild, refounding o'er the steep!

Delicious is your shelter to the foul,
As to the hunted hart the fallying spring,
Or ftream full-flowing, that his fwelling fides
Laves, as he floats along the herbag'd brink. 475
Cool thro' the nerves your pleafing comfort glides;
The heart beats glad; the fresh-expanded eye
And ear resume their watch; the finews knit,
And life fhoots swift thro' all the lightened limbs.
Around th' adjoining brook, that purls along 480
The vocal grove, now fretting o'er a rock,
Now fcarcely moving thro' a reedy pool,
Now starting to a fudden stream, and now
ently diffus'd into a limpid plain,

Various group the herds and flocks compofe, 485
Aral confufion! On the graffy bank

me ruminating lie, while others ftand
Half in the flood, and, often bending, sip
The circling furface. In the middle droops
The ftrong laborious ox, of honest front,

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Which incompos'd he shakes, and from his fides The troublous infects lafhes with his tail,

Returning ftill. Amid his subjects safe,

Slumbers the monarch-swain, his careless arm
Thrown round his head, on downy moss fuftain'd;495
Here laid his fcrip, with wholesome viands fill'd,
There, liftening every noise, his watchful dog.
Light fly his flumbers, if perchance a flight
Of angry gadflies fasten on the herd,

That ftartling scatters from the shallow brook, 500
In fearch of lavish stream. Toffing the foam,
They fcorn the keeper's voice, and scour the plain,
Thro' all the bright severity of noon,

While from their labouring breasts a hollow moan
Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills. 505
Oft' in this feafon, too, the horse, provok'd,
While his big finews full of fpirits fwell,
Trembling with vigour, in the heat of blood
Springs the high fence, and, o'er the field effus'd,
Darts on the gloomy flood with stedfast eye,
And heart eftrang'd to fear; his nervous cheft,
Luxuriant, and erect, the feat of strength,
Bears downth' oppofing stream: quenchless his thirst,
He takes the river at redoubled draughts,

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And with wide noftrils fnorting, fkims the wave. 515
Still let me pierce into the midnight depth
Of yonder grove of wildeft, largest growth,
That, forming high in air a woodland choir,

Nods o'er the mount beneath. At every ftep,
Solemn and flow, the fhadows blacker fall,
And all is awful listening gloom around.

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These are the haunts of Meditation, these The fcenes where ancient bards th' infpiring breath, Exftatic, felt, and from this world retir'd, Convers'd with angels and immortal forms, On gracious errands bent, to fave the fall Of Virtue ftruggling on the brink of vice; In waking whispers and repeated dreams,

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To hint pure thought, and warn the favour'd foul For future trials fated to prepare ;

To prompt the poet, who devoted gives

His Mufe to better themes; to footh the pangs Of dying worth, and from the patriot's breast (Backward to mingle in detefted war,

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But foremost when engag'd) to turn the death; 535 And numberlefs fuch offices of love

Daily, and nightly, zealous to perform.

Shook fudden from the bofom of the sky, thousand fhapes or glide athwart the dusk, Or ftalk majestic on. Deep-rous'd, I feel facred terror, a fevere delight,

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Creep thro' my mortal frame; and thus, methinks, A voice, than human more, th' abftracted ear

Of Fancy strikes; "Be not of us afraid,

"Poor kindred Man! thy fellow-creatures we 545 "From the fame Parent-power our beings drew,

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