That sinks you soft in elegance and ease;
Be mindful of those limbs, in russet clad,
Whose toil to yours is warmth and graceful pride,
And, O! be mindful of that sparing board
Which covers yours with luxury profuse,
Makes your glass sparkle, and your sense rejoice!
Nor cruelly demand what the deep rains
And all-involving winds have swept away.

THE SPORTSMAN; SPANIEL; COVEY.

Here the rude clamor of the sportsman's joy, The gun fast-thundering, and the winded horn, Would tempt the Muse to sing the rural game : How in his mid-career the spaniel struck, Stiff, by the tainted gale, with open nose, Outstretched and finely sensible, draws full, Fearful and cautious, on the latent prey; As in the sun the circling covey bask Their varied plumes, and watchful, every way Through the rough stubble turn the secret eye. Caught in the meshy snare, in vain they beat Their idle wings, entangled more and more: Nor on the surges of the boundless air, Though borne triumphant, are they safe; the gun, Glanced just, and sudden, from the fowler's eye, O'ertakes their sounding pinions; and again, Immediate, brings them from the towering wing, Dead to the ground; or drives them wide-dispersed, Wounded, and wheeling various, down the wind.

POETRY REBUKES, NOT GLORIFIES, FOWLING AND THE CHASE, AS AMUSEMENTS.

These are not subjects for the peaceful Muse, Nor will she stain with such her spotless song; Then most delighted, when she social sees The whole mixed animal creation round Alive and happy. T is not joy to her, This falsely-cheerful, barbarous game of death, This rage of pleasure, which the restless youth Awakes, impatient, with the gleaming morn: When beasts of prey retire, that all night long, Urged by necessity, had ranged the dark, As if their conscious ravage shunned the light, Ashamed. Not so the steady tyrant man, Who, with the thoughtless insolence of power Inflamed, beyond the most infuriate wrath Of the worst monster that e'er roamed the waste, For sport alone pursues the cruel chase, Amid the beamings of the gentle days. Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage, For hunger kindles you, and lawless want ; But lavish fed, in Nature's bounty rolled, To joy at anguish, and delight in blood, Is what your horrid bosoms never knew.

Stretched o'er the stony heath; the stubble chapt;
The thistly lawn; the thick-entangled broom;
Of the same friendly hue, the withered fern ;
The fallow ground laid open to the sun,
Concoctive; and the nodding, sandy bank,
Hung o'er the mazes of the mountain brook.
Vain is her best precaution; though she sits
Concealed, with folded ears; unsleeping eyes,
By Nature raised to take the horizon in ;
And head couched close between her hairy feet,
In act to spring away. The scented dew
Betrays her early labyrinth; and deep,
In scattered, sullen openings, far behind,
With every breeze she hears the coming storm.
But nearer, and more frequent, as it loads
The sighing gale, she springs amazed, and all
The savage soul of game is up at once:
The pack full-opening, various; the shrill horn
Resounded from the hills; the neighing steed,
Wild for the chase; and the loud hunters' shout;
O'er a weak, harmless, flying creature, all
Mixed in mad tumult, and discordant joy.

THE STAG-HUNT. VAIN EFFORTS OF THE QUARRY. — THE
SELFISH HERD. THE SLAUGHTER.

The stag too, singled from the herd, where long He ranged the branching monarch of the shades, Before the tempest drives. At first in speed He, sprightly, puts his faith; and, roused by fear, Gives all his swift, aerial soul to flight; Against the breeze he darts, that way the more To leave the lessening, murderous cry behind : Deception short! though fleeter than the winds Blown o'er the keen-aired mountain by the north, He bursts the thickets, glances through the glades, And plunges deep into the wildest wood; If slow, yet sure, adhesive to the track Hot-steaming, up behind him come again The inhuman rout, and from the shady depth Expel him, circling through his every shift. He sweeps the forest oft; and sobbing sees The glades, mild opening to the golden day; Where, in kind contest, with his butting friends He wont to struggle, or his loves enjoy. Oft in the full descending flood he tries To lose the scent, and lave his burning sides: Oft seeks the herd; the watchful herd, alarmed, With selfish care avoid a brother's woe. What shall he do? His once so vivid nerves, So full of buoyant spirit, now no more Inspire the course; but fainting, breathless toil, Sick, seizes on his heart: he stands at bay, And puts his last weak refuge in despair. The big round tears run down his dappled face; He groans in anguish; while the growling pack, Blood-happy, hang at his fair jutting chest, And mark his beauteous checkered sides with gore.

THE LION, WOLF, OR BOAR HUNT MORE WORTHY.

Of this enough. But if the sylvan youth, Whose fervent blood boils into violence,

Must have the chase; behold, despising flight,
The roused-up lion, resolute, and slow,
Advancing full on the protended spear,
And coward band, that circling wheel aloof.
Slunk from the cavern, and the troubled wood,
See the grim wolf; on him his shaggy foe
Vindictive fix, and let the ruffian die :
Or, growling horrid, as the brindled boar
Grins fell destruction, to the monster's heart
Let the dart lighten from the nervous arm.

CHASE OF THE FOX COMMENDED AND DESCRIBED ITS HEAD-
LONG COURSE AND GLORY. THE BRUSH. THE REVEL.

These Britain knows not; give, ye Britons, then, Your sportive fury, pitiless, to pour Loose on the nightly robber of the fold; Him, from his craggy, winding haunts unearthed, Let all the thunder of the chase pursue. Throw the broad ditch behind you; o'er the hedge High bound, resistless; nor the deep morass Refuse, but through the shaking wilderness Pick your nice way; into the perilous flood Bear fearless, of the raging instinct full; And, as you ride the torrent, to the banks Your triumph sound sonorous, running round, From rock to rock, in circling echoes tossed; Then scale the mountains to their woody tops; Rush down the dangerous steep; and o'er the lawn, In fancy swallowing up the space between, Pour all your speed into the rapid game. For happy he who tops the wheeling chase; Has every maze evolved, and every guile Disclosed; who knows the merits of the pack ; Who saw the villain seized, and dying hard, Without complaint, though by a hundred mouths Relentless torn. O glorious he, beyond His daring peers! when the retreating horn Calls them to ghostly halls of gray renown, With woodland honors graced; the fox's fur Depending decent from the roof and spread Round the drear walls, with antic figures fierce, The stag's large front: he then is loudest heard, When the night staggers with severer toils, With feats Thessalian centaurs never knew ; And their repeated wonders shake the dome. THE FOX-HUNT FEAST; THE SIRLOIN; POT-PIES; PUNCH; OLD OCTOBER ALE; WHIST; BACK-GAMMON ; SMOKING.

But first the fuelled chimney blazes wide; The tankards foam; and the strong table groans Beneath the smoking sirloin, stretched immense From side to side, in which, with desperate knife, They deep incision make, and talk the while Of England's glory, ne'er to be defaced, While hence they borrow vigor or amain Into the pasty plunged, at intervals, If stomach keen can intervals allow, Relating all the glories of the chase. Then sated Hunger bids his brother Thirst Produce the mighty bowl; the mighty bowl, Swelled high with fiery juice, steams liberal round A potent gale; delicious as the breath

Of Maia to the love-sick shepherdess,

On violets diffused, while soft she hears
Her panting shepherd stealing to her arms.
Nor wanting is the brown October, drawn,
Mature and perfect, from his dark retreat
Of thirty years; and now his honest front
Flames in the light refulgent, not afraid
E'en with the vineyard's best produce to vie.
To cheat the thirsty moments, Whist a while
Walks his dull round beneath a cloud of smoke,
Wreathed, fragrant, from the pipe; or the quick
In thunder leaping from the box, awake [dice,
The sounding gammon; while romp-loving miss
Is hauled about, in gallantry robust.

THE DRINKING BOUT. ALL DRUNK BUT THE REVEREND DOC-
TOR. DISGUSTING SCENE.

At last, these puling idlenesses laid
Aside, frequent and full, the dry divan
Close in firm circle; and set, ardent, in
For serious drinking. Nor evasion sly,
Nor sober shift, is to the puking wretch
Indulged apart; but earnest, brimming bowls
Lave every soul, the table floating round,
And pavement, faithless to the fuddled foot.
Thus as they swim in mutual swill, the talk,
Vociferous at once from twenty tongues, [hounds,
Reels fast from theme to theme; from horses,
To church or mistress, politics or ghost,
In endless mazes, intricate, perplexed.
Meantime, with sudden interruption, loud,

The impatient catch bursts from the joyous heart;
That moment touched is every kindred soul;
And, opening in a full-mouthed cry of joy,
The laugh, the slap, the jocund curse, go round;
While, from their slumbers shook, the kemelled
Mix in the music of the day again.

[hounds

As when the tempest, that has vexed the deep
The dark night long, with fainter murmurs falls,
So gradual sinks their mirth. Their feeble tongues,
Unable to take up the cumbrous word,
Lie quite dissolved. Before their maudlin eyes,
Seen dim and blue, the double tapers dance,
Like the sun wading through the misty sky.
Then, sliding soft, they drop. Confused above,
Glasses and bottles, pipes and gazetteers,
As if the table e'en itself was drunk,
Lie a wet, broken scene; and wide, below,
Is heaped the social slaughter where astride
The lubber-power in filthy triumph sits,
Slumbrous, inclining still from side to side,
And steeps them drenched in potent sleep till morn.
Perhaps some doctor, of tremendous paunch,
Awful and deep, a black abyss of drink,
Outlives them all; and from his buried flock
Retiring, full of rumination sad,

:

Laments the weakness of these latter times.

WOMAN'S SPHERE; THE CHASE UNFIT.- WOMAN'S TRUE CHARMS AND PROPER ACCOMPLISHMENTS. DANCING; DRAWING ; NEEDLE-WORK; MUSIC; MAKING PRESERVES; EDUCATION OF CHILDREN; THE RENDERING OF HOME VIRTUOUS AND HAPPY.

But if the rougher sex by this fierce sport

Is hurried wild, let not such horrid joy

Eer stain the bosom of the British fair.
Far be the spirit of the chase from them!
Uncomely courage, unbeseeming skill;

To spring the fence, to rein the prancing steed;
The cap, the whip, the masculine attire,
In which they roughen to the sense, and all
The winning softness of their sex is lost.
In them 't is graceful to dissolve at woe;
With every motion, every word, to wave
Quick o'er the kindling cheek the ready blush ;
And from the smallest violence to shrink
Unequal, then the loveliest in their fears;
And by this silent adulation, soft,

To their protection more engaging man.
O may their eyes no miserable sight,
Save weeping lovers, see! a nobler game,
Through love's enchanting wiles pursued, yet fled,
In chase ambiguous. May their tender limbs
Float in the loose simplicity of dress!
And, fashioned all to harmony, alone
Know they to seize the captivated soul,

In rapture warbled from love-breathing lips;

To teach the lute to languish; with smooth step,
Disclosing motion in its every charm,

To swim along, and swell the mazy dance;
To train the foliage o'er the snowy lawn;
To guide the pencil, turn the tuneful page,
To lend new flavor to the fruitful year,
And heighten Nature's dainties; in their race
To rear their graces into second life;
To give society its highest taste;
Well-ordered home man's best delight to make;
And by submissive wisdom, modest skill,
With every gentle, care-eluding art,
To raise the virtues, animate the bliss,
And sweeten all the toils of human life :-
This be the female dignity and praise.

GATHERING OF HAZEL-NUTS. MELINDA.

Ye swains, now hasten to the hazel bank, Where down yon dale the wildly-winding brook Falls hoarse from steep to steep. In close array, Fit for the thickets and the tangling shrub, Ye virgins, come. For you their latest song The woodlands raise; the clustering nuts for you The lover finds amid the secret shade; And, where they burnish on the topmost bough, With active vigor crushes down the tree; Or shakes them ripe from the resigning husk, A glossy shower, and of an ardent brown, As are the ringlets of Melinda's hair: Melinda! formed with every grace complete ; Yet these neglecting, above beauty wise, And far transcending such a vulgar praise.

THE ORCHARD. — GATHERING OF FRUIT. PEARS; APPLES;
CIDER PHILIPS.

Hence from the busy, joy-resounding fields,
In cheerful error, let us tread the maze
Of Autumn, unconfined; and faste, revived,

The breath of orchard big with bending fruit;

Obedient to the breeze and beating ray,
From the deep-loaded bough a mellow shower
Incessant melts away. The juicy pear
Lies in a soft profusion scattered round.
A various sweetness swells the gentle race,
By Nature's all-refining hand prepared;
Of tempered sun, and water, earth, and air,
In ever-changing composition mixed.
Such, falling frequent through the chiller night,
The fragrant stores, the wide-projected heaps
Of apples, which the lusty-handed year,
Innumerous, o'er the blushing orchard shakes.
A various spirit, fresh, delicious, keen,
Dwells in their gelid pores; and, active, points
The piercing cider for the thirsty tongue :
Thy native theme, and boon inspirer too,
Philips, Pomona's bard, the second thou
Who nobly durst, in rhyme-unfettered verse,
With British freedom sing the British song:
How, from Silurian vats, high-sparkling wines
Foam in transparent floods; some strong, to cheer
The wintry revels of the laboring hind;
And tasteful some, to cool the summer hours.

THE SEAT OF MR. BUBB DODINGTON, IN AUTUMN, DESCRIBED.
THE DOWNS OF DORSETSHIRE. THE POET YOUNG. THE
AUTHOR'S FAVORITE RETREAT.

In this glad season, while his sweetest beams The sun sheds equal o'er the meekened day, O lose me in the green delightful walks, Of, Dodington, thy seat, serene and plain; Where simple Nature reigns; and every view, Diffusive, spreads the pure Dorsetian downs, In boundless prospect; yonder shagged with wood, Here rich with harvest, and there white with flocks! Meantime the grandeur of thy lofty dome, Far-splendid, seizes on the ravished eye. New beauties rise with each revolving day; New columns swell; and still the fresh Spring finds New plants to quicken, and new groves to green. Full of thy genius all! the Muses' seat: Where in the secret bower, and winding walk, For virtuous Young and thee they twine the bay. Here wandering oft, fired with the restless thirst Of thy applause, I solitary court The inspiring breeze, and meditate the book Of Nature, ever open; aiming thence, Warm from the heart, to learn the moral song. Here, as I steal along the sunny wall Where Autumn basks, with fruit empurpled deep, My pleasing theme continual prompts my thought: Presents the downy peach, the shining plum, The ruddy, fragrant nectarine; and, dark Beneath his ample leaf, the luscious fig. The vine too here her curling tendrils shoots, Hangs out her clusters, glowing to the south, And scarcely wishes for a warmer sky.

THE VINEYARD AND VINTAGE. WINE-MAKING.— CLARET; BURGUNDY; CHAMPAGNE.

Turn we a moment Faney's rapid flight

To vigorous soils, and climes of fair extent;

Where, by the potent sun elated high,
The vineyard swells refulgent on the day,
Spreads o'er the vale; or up the mountain climbs,
Profuse, and drinks amid the sunny rocks,
From cliff to cliff increased, the heightened blaze.
Low bend the weighty boughs. The clusters clear,
Half through the foliage seen, or ardent flame,
Or shine transparent; while perfection breathes
White o'er the turgent film the living dew.
As thus they brighten with exalted juice,
Touched into flavor by the mingling ray;
The rural youth and virgins o'er the field,
Each fond for each to cull the autumnal prime,
Exulting rove, and speak the vintage nigh.
Then comes the crushing wain; the country floats,
And foams unbounded with the mashy flood;
That by degrees fermented, and refined,
Round the raised nations pours the cup of joy ;
The claret smooth, red as the lip we press
In sparkling fancy, while we drain the bowl;
The mellow-tasted Burgundy; and, quick
As is the wit it gives, the gay Champagne.

AUTUMN FOGS. THE SUN THROUGH A FOG. CHAOS.

Now, by the cool declining year condensed, Descend the copious exhalations, checked As up the middle sky unseen they stole, And roll the doubling fogs around the hill. No more the mountain, horrid, vast, sublime, Which pours a sweep of rivers from its sides, And high between contending kingdoms rears The rocky long division, fills the view With great variety; but, in a night Of gathering vapor, from the baffled sense Sinks dark and dreary. Thence expanding far, The huge dusk, gradual, swallows up the plain : Vanish the woods; the dim-seen river seems Sullen and slow to roll the misty wave. E'en in the height of noon oppressed, the sun Sheds, weak and blunt, his wide-refracted ray : Whence glaring oft, with many a broadened orb, He frights the nations. Indistinct on earth, Seen through the turbid air, beyond the life Objects appear; and, 'wildered, o'er the waste The shepherd stalks gigantic. Till at last Wreathed dun around, in deeper circles still Successive closing, sits the general fog Unbounded o'er the world; and, mingling thick, A formless, gray confusion covers all. As when of old (so sung the Hebrew bard) Light, uncollected, through the chaos urged Its infant way; nor Order yet had drawn His lovely train from out the dubious gloom.

THE CIRCUIT OF THE WATERS. SPRINGS.THEORY OF THEIR FORMATION BY CAPILLARY ATTRACTION REJECTED.

These roving mists, that constant now begin To smoke along the hilly country, these With weightier rains, and melted Alpine snows, The mountain-cisterns fill, those ample stores Of water, scooped among the hollow rocks; [play, Whence gush the streams, the ceaseless fountains

And their unfailing wealth the rivers draw.
Some sages say, that, where the numerous wave
Forever lashes the resounding shore,
Drilled through the sandy stratum, every way,
The waters with the sandy stratum rise;
Amid whose angles infinitely strained,
They joyful leave their jaggy salts behind,
And clear and sweeten as they soak along.
Nor stops the restless fluid, mounting still,
Though oft amidst the irriguous vale it springs;
But to the mountain courted by the sand,
That leads it darkling on in faithful maze,
Far from the parent main, it boils again
Fresh into day, and all the glittering hill
Is bright with spouting rills. But hence this vain
Amusive dream! why should the waters love
To take so far a journey to the hills,
When the sweet valleys offer to their toil
Inviting quiet, and a nearer bed?

Or if, by blind ambition led astray,

They must aspire, why should they sudden stop

Among the broken mountain's rushy dells,
And, ere they gain its highest peak, desert [long?
The attractive sand that charmed their course so
Besides, the hard agglomerating salts,

The spoil of ages, would impervious choke
Their secret channels; or, by slow degrees,
High as the hills protrude the swelling vales :
Old Ocean, too, sucked through the porous globe,
Had long ere now forsook his horrid bed,
And brought Deucalion's watery times again.

RAPID SURVEY OF THE CHIEF MOUNTAINS OF THE WORLD.

Say, then, where lurk the vast eternal springs, That, like creating Nature, lie concealed From mortal eye, yet with their lavish stores Refresh the globe, and all its joyous tribes! O thou pervading Genius, given to man To trace the secrets of the dark abyss, O lay the mountains bare! and wide display Their hidden structure to the astonished view! Strip from the branching Alps their piny load; The huge incumbrance of horrific woods From Asian Taurus, from Imaus stretched Athwart the roving Tartar's sullen bounds! Give opening Hemus to my searching eye, And high Olympus pouring many a stream; O from the sounding summits of the north, The Dofrine Hills, through Scandinavia rolled To furthest Lapland and the frozen main; From lofty Caucasus, far seen by those Who in the Caspian and black Euxine toil; From cold Riphæan rocks, which the wild Russ Believes the stony girdle of the world; And all the dreadful mountains, wrapt in storm, Whence wide Siberia draws her lonely floods; O sweep the eternal snows! Hung o'er the deep, That ever works beneath his sounding base, Bid Atlas, propping heaven, as poets feign, His subterranean wonders spread! Unveil The miny caverns, blazing on the day,

Of Abyssinia's cloud-compelling cliffs,
And of the bending Mountains of the Moon!
O'ertopping all these giant sons of earth,
Let the dire Andes, from the radiant line
Stretched to the stormy seas that thunder round
The southern pole, their hideous deeps unfold !
THE TRUE CAUSE OF SPRINGS, AND HENCE OF GENERAL IRRI-
GATION. THE CLOUDS COMPLETE THE CIRCUIT.

Amazing scene! Behold! the glooms disclose ;
I see the rivers in their infant beds!
Deep, deep I hear them laboring to get free;
I see the leaning strata, artful ranged;
The gaping fissures to receive the rains,
The melting snows, and ever-dripping fogs.
Strewed bibulous above I see the sands,
The pebbly gravel next, the layers then
Of mingled moulds, of more retentive earths,
The guttered rocks and mazy-running clefts;
That, while the stealing moisture they transmit,
Retard its motion, and forbid its waste.
Beneath the incessant weeping of these drains,
I see the rocky siphons stretched immense,
The mighty reservoirs, of hardened chalk,
Or stiff-compacted clay, capacious formed.
O'erflowing thence, the congregated stores,
The crystal treasures of the liquid world,
Through the stirred sands a bubbling passage burst;
And welling out, around the middle steep,
Or from the bottoms of the bosomed hills,
In pure effusion flow. United, thus,
Th' exhaling sun, the vapor-burdened air,
The gelid mountains, that to rain condensed
These vapors in continual current draw,
And send them, o'er the fair-divided earth,
In bounteous rivers to the deep again, -
A social commerce hold, and firm support
The full-adjusted harmony of things.

THE AUTUMNAL MIGRATION OF BIRDS. SWALLOWS.

When Autumn scatters his departing gleams, Warned of approaching Winter, gathered, play The swallow-people; and tossed wide around, O'er the calm sky, in convolution swift, The feathered eddy floats; rejoicing once, Ere to their wintry slumbers they retire; In clusters clung, beneath the mouldering bank, And where, unpierced by frost, the cavern sweats. Or rather into warmer climes conveyed, With other kindred birds of season, there They twitter cheerful, till the vernal months Invite them welcome back: for, thronging, now Innumerous wings are in commotion all.

MIGRATION OF THE STORK FROM HOLLAND.

Where the Rhine loses his majestic force
In Belgian plains, won from the raging deep,
By diligence amazing, and the strong
Unconquerable hand of Liberty,

The stork-assembly meets; for many a day,
Consulting deep, and various, ere they take
Their arduous voyage through the liquid sky:

And now, their route designed, their leaders chose,
Their tribes adjusted, cleaned their vigorous wings;
And many a circle, many a short essay,
Wheeled round and round, in congregation full
The figured flight ascends; and riding high
The aerial billows, mixes with the clouds.

BIRDS OF THE ORKNEYS AND HEBRIDES, AND THEIR MIGRA-
TION BY NATIONS.

Or where the Northern Ocean, in vast whirls,
Boils round the naked, melancholy isles
Of furthest Thulé, and the Atlantic surge
Pours in among the stormy Hebrides;
Who can recount what transmigrations there
Are annual made? what nations come and go?
And how the living clouds on clouds arise?
Infinite wings! till all the plume-dark air
And rude-resounding shore are one wild cry.

SHETLAND HERDS AND FLOCKS. EGG AND EIDER-DOWN
HUNTERS.

Here the plain, harmless native his small flock, And herd diminutive, of many hues, Tends on the little island's verdant swell, The shepherd's sea-girt reign; or to the rocks Dire-clinging, gathers his ovarious food; Or sweeps the fishy shore; or treasures up The plumage, rising full, to form the bed Of luxury.

BIRD'S-EYE DESCRIPTION OF SCOTLAND. TWEED.-JED.

And here a while the Muse, High hovering o'er the broad cerulean scene, Sees Caledonia, in romantic view: Her airy mountains, from the waving main, Invested with a keen diffusive sky, Breathing the soul acute; her forests huge, Incult, robust, and tall, by Nature's hand Planted of old; her azure lakes between, Poured out extensive, and of watery wealth Full; winding deep, and green, her fertile vales; With many a cool, translucent, brimming flood Washed lovely, from the Tweed, pure parent stream, Whose pastoral banks first heard my Doric reed, With, sylvan Jed, thy tributary brook, To where the north-inflated tempest foams O'er Orca's or Betubium's highest peak:

THE SCOTCH PEOPLE. WALLACE. THE AURORA BOREALIS.

Nurse of a people, in Misfortune's school Trained up to hardy deeds; soon visited By Learning, when before the Gothic rage She took her western flight. A manly race, Of unsubmitting spirit, wise, and brave; Who still through bleeding ages struggled hard As well unhappy Wallace can attest, Great patriot-hero! ill-requited chief!— To hold a generous, undiminished state; Too much in vain! Hence of unequal bounds Impatient, and by tempting glory borne O'er every land, for every land their life Has flowed profuse, their piercing genius planned, And swelled the pomp of peace their faithful toil :