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Marching and counter-marching, with an eye
As fixt ás marble, with a forehead ridg'd
And furrow'd into storms, and with a hand
Trembling, as if eternity were hung
In balance on his conduct of a pin?
Nor envies he aught more their idle sport,
Who pant with application misapplied
To trivial toys, and, pushing iv'ry balls
Across a velvet level, feel a joy
Akin to rapture when the bawble finds
Its destin'd goal, of difficult access.
Nor deems he wiser him, who gives his noon
To miss, the mercer's plague, from shop to shop
Wand'ring, and litt'ring with unfolded silks
The polish'd counter, and approving none,
Or promising with smiles to call again.-
Nor him, who by his vanity seduc'd,

And sooth'd into a dream that he discerns

The diff'rence of a Guido from a daub,

Frequents the crowded auction: station'd there

As duly as the Langford of the show,
With glass at eye, and catalogue in hand,
And tongue accomplish'd in the fulsome cant
And pedantry that coxcombs learn with ease;
Oft as the price-deciding hammer falls
He notes it in his book, then raps

his box, Swears 'tis a bargain, rails at his hard fate That he has let it pass—but never bids!

Here, unmolested, through whatever sign The sun proceeds, I wander. Neither mist, Nor freezing sky nor sultry, checking me, Nor stranger intermeddling with my joy. Ev'n in the spring and play-time of the year, That calls th' unwonted villager abroad With all her little ones, a sportive train, To gather king-cups in the yellow mead, And prink their hair with daisies, or to pick A cheap but wholesome sallad from the brook, These shades are all my own. The tim'rous hare,

Grown so familiar with her frequent guest,
Scarce shuns me; and the stock-dove, unalarm’d,
Sits cooing in the pine-tree, nor suspends
His long love-ditty for my near approach.
Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm

age or injury has hollow'd deep,
Where, on his bed of wool and matted leaves,
He has outslept the winter, ventures forth
To frisk awhile, and bask in the warm sun,
The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play:
He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird,
Ascends the neighb’ring beach; there whisks his

brush, And perks his ears, and stamps and cries aloud, With all the prettiness of feign'd alarm, And anger insignificantly fierce.

The heart is hard in nature, and unfit

For human fellowship, as being void
Of sympathy, and therefore dead alike

To love and friendship both, that is not pleas'd
With sight of animals enjoying life,
Nor feels their happiness augment his own.
The bounding fawn, that darts across the glade
When none pursues, through mere delight of heart,
And spirits buoyant with excess of glee;
The horse as wanton, and almost as fleet,
That skims the spacious meadow at full speed,
Then stops and snorts, and, throwing high his heels,
Starts to the voluntary race again;

kine that gambol at high noon,
The total herd receiving first from one
That leads the dance a summons to be gay,
Though wild their strange vagaries, and uncouth
Their efforts, yet resolv'd with one consent
To give such act and utt’rance as they may
To ecstasy too big to be suppress'd-
These, and a thousand images of bliss,
With which kind nature graces ev'ry scene
Where cruel man defeats not her design,

Impart to the benevolent, who wish
All that are capable of pleasure pleas'd,
A far superior happiness to their's,
The comfort of a reasonable joy.

Man scarce had ris'n, obedient to his call

Who form’d him from the dust, his future

grave, When he was crown'd as never king was since. God set the diadem upon his head, And angel choirs attended. Wond'ring stood The new-made monarch, while before him pass’d, All happy, and all perfect in their kind,

The creatures summon'd from their various haunts

To see their sov’reign, and confess his sway.
Vast was his empire, absolute his pow'r,
Or bounded only by a law, whose force
'Twas his sublimest privilege to feel

And own the law of universal love.

He ruld with meekness, they obey'd with joy;

No cruel purpose lurk'd within his heart,

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