When the fresh Spring in all her ftate is crown'd,
And high luxuriant grafs o'erfpreads the ground,
The labourer with a bending scythe is feen,
Shaving the furface of the waving green;
Of all her native pride difrobes the land,
And meads lays waste before his sweeping hand;
While with the mounting fun the meadow glows,
The fading herbage round he loosely throws :
But, if fome fign portend a lafting shower,
Th' experienc'd fwain forefees the coming hour;
His fun-burnt hands the scattering fork forfake,
And ruddy damfels ply the faving rake;
In rifing hills the fragrant harvest grows,
And fpreads along the field in equal rows.
Now when the height of heaven bright Phoebus gains,
And level rays cleave wide the thirsty plains,
When heifers feek the shade and cooling lake,
And in the middle path-way basks the snake;
O lead me, guard me from the fultry hours,
Hide me, ye forests, in your closest bowers,
Where the tall oak his fpreading arms entwines,
And with the beech a mutual fhade combines ;
Where flows the murmuring brook, inviting dreams,
Where bordering hazle overhangs the streams,
Whofe rolling current, winding round and round,
With frequent falls makes all the wood refound;
Upon the moffy couch my limbs I cast,
And e'en at noon the sweets of evening taste.
Here I perufe the Mantuan's Georgic strains,
And learn the labours of Italian fwains;
B 2
In every page I fee new landfcapes rife,
And all Hefperia opens to my eyes,
I wander o'er the various rural toil,
And know the nature of each different foil:
This waving field is gilded o'er with corn,
That spreading trees with blushing fruit adorn :
Here I furvey the purple vintage grow,
Climb round the poles, and rife in graceful row:
Now I behold the fteed curvet and bound,
And paw with restless hoof the smoking ground
The dewlap'd bull now chafes along the plain,
While burning love ferments in every vein ;
His well-arm'd front against his rival aims,
And by the dint of war his mistress claims :
The careful infect 'midft his works I view,
Now from the flowers exhaust the fragrant dew;
With golden treasures load his little thighs,
And ftcer his diftant journey through the skies;
Some against hoftile drones the hive defend;
Others with fweets the waxen cells diftend;
Each in the toil his deftin'd office bears,
And in the little bulk a mighty foul appears.
Or when the ploughman leaves the task of day,
And trudging homeward whistles on the way;
When the big-udder'd cows with patience ftand,
Waiting the froakings of the damfel's hand;
No warbling cheers the woods; the feather'd choir, 95
To court kind flumbers, to the sprays retire;
When no rude gale difturbs the fleeping trees,
Nor afpen leaves confefs the gentleft breeze;
Engag'd in thought, to Neptune's bounds I ftray,
To take my farewell of the parting day;
Far in the deep the fun his glory hides,
A ftreak of gold the fea and fky divides
The purple clouds their amber linings show,
And edg'd with flame rolls every wave below:
Here penfive I behold the fading light,
And o'er the distant billow lofe my fight.
Now Night in filent state begins to rife,
And twinkling orbs beftrow th' uncloudy skies;
Her borrow'd luftre growing Cynthia lends,
And on the main a glittering path extends;
Millions of worlds hang in the fpacious air,
Which round their funs their annual circles fteer;
Sweet contemplation elevates my fenfe,
While I furvey the works of Providence.
O could the Mufe in loftier strains rehearse
The glorious Author of the universe,
Who reins the winds, gives the vaft ocean bounds,
And circumfcribes the floating worlds their rounds;
My foul fhould overflow in fongs of praise,
And my Creator's name infpire my lays !'
As in fucceffive courfe the feafons roll,
So circling pleasures recreate the foul.
When genial Spring a living warmth beflows,
And o'er the year her verdant mantle throws,
No fwelling inundation hides the grounds,
But cryftal currents glide within their bounds;
The finny brood their wonted haunts forfake,
Float in the fun, and fkim along the lake,
With frequent leap they range the shallow ftreams,
Their filver coats reflect the dazzling beams.
Now let the fisherman his toils prepare,
And arm himself with every watery fnare;
His hooks, his lines, perufe with careful eye,
Encrease his tackle, and his rod re-tye.
When floating clouds their fpongy fleeces drain, 135
Troubling the ftreams with fwift defcending rain;
And waters, tumbling down the mountain's fide,
Bear the loofe foil into the fwelling tide;
Then, foon as vernal gales begin to rife,
And drive the liquid burthen through the skies,
The fifher to the neighbouring current speeds,
Whofe rapid furface purls unknown to weeds:
Upon a rifing border of the brook
He fits him down, and ties the treacherous hook;
Now expectation chears his eager thought,
His bofom glows with treasures yet uncaught,
Before his eyes a banquet feems to stand,
Where every gueft applauds his fkilful hand.
Far up the stream the twisted hair he throws, Which down the murmuring current gently flows; 150 When, if or chance or hunger's powerful fway Directs the roving trout this fatal way,
He greedily fucks-in the twining bait,
And tugs and nibbles the fallacious meat :
Now, happy fisherman, now twitch the line!
How thy rod bends! behold, the prize is thine!
Caft on the bank, he dies with gasping pains,
And trickling blood his filver mail diftains.
You must not every worm promifcuous ufe ;
Judgement will tell the proper bait to chufe :
The worm that draws a long immoderate fize
The trout abhors, and the rank morfel flies;
And, if too fmall, the naked fraud 's in fight,
And fear forbids, while hunger does invite.
Those baits will beft reward the fisher's pains,
Whose polish'd tails a fhining yellow stains :
Cleanse them from filth, to give a tempting glofs,
Cherish the fully'd reptile race with moss;
Amid the verdant bed they twine, they toil,
And from their bodies wipe their native foil.
But, when the fun difplays his glorious beams,
And fhallow rivers flow with filver ftreams,
Then the deceit the fcaly breed furvey,
Bafk in the fun, and look into the day:
You now a more delufive art must try,
And tempt their hunger with the curious fly.
To frame the little animal, provide
All the gay hues that wait on female pride :
Let nature guide thee; fometimes golden wire
The shining bellies of the fly require;
The peacock's plumes, thy tackle must not fail,
Nor the dear purchase of the fable's tail.
Each gaudy bird fome flender tribute brings,
And lends the growing infect proper wings:
Silks of all colours muft their aid impart,
And every fur promote the fisher's art.
So the gay lady, with expenfive care,
Borrows the pride of land, of fea, and air;
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