While their broad foliage teftifies their fall!
Their no joys end, where his full feast begins:
His joys create, theirs murder, future blifs.
To triumph in existence, his alone;
And his alone triumphantly to think
His true existence is not yet begun.
His glorious courfe was, yefterday, complete:
Death, then, was welcome; yet life ftill is fweet.
The Pleafures of Retirement.
O KNEW he but his happiness, of men
The happiest he! who, far from public rage,
Deep in the vale, with a choice few retir'd,
Drinks the pure pleafures of the rural life.
What tho' the dome be wanting, whofe proud gate,
Each morning, vomits out the sneaking crowd
Of flatterers false, and in their turn abus'd !
Vile intercourfe! What tho' the glitt❜ring robe,
Of ev'ry hue reflected light can give,
Or floated loofe, or stiff with mazy gold,
The pride and gaze of fools, opprefs him not?
What tho' from utmost land and sea purvey'd,
For him each rarer tributary life
Bleeds not, and his infatiate table heaps
With luxury, and death? What tho' his bowl
Flames not with coftly juice; nor funk in beds
Oft of gay Care, he tofses out the night,
Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle ftate?
What tho' he knows not those fantastic joys,
That ftill amuse the wanton, ftill deceive;
A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain;
Their hollow moments undelighted all?
Sure peace is his; a folid life eftrang'd
To disappointment, and fallacious hope:
Rich in content, in Nature's bounty rich,
In herbs and fruits; whatever greens the Spring,
When heaven defcends in showers; or bends the bough
When Summer reddens, and when Autumn beams:
Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies
Conceal'd and fattens with the richest sap;
These are not wanting; nor the milky drove,
Luxuriant, fpread o'er all the lowing vale;
Nor bleating mountains, nor the chide of ftreams,'
And hum of bees, inviting fleep fincere
Into the guiltlefs breaft, beneath the fhade,
Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay;
Nor aught befides of prospect, grove, or song,
Dim grottoes, gleaming lakes, and fountain clear.
Here too dwells fimple Truth; plain Innocence;
Unfullied Beauty; found unbroken Youth,
Patient of labour, with a little pleas'd;
Health ever blooming; unambitious Toil;
Calm Contemplation, and poetic Eafe.
The Pleafure and Benefit of an improved and well-directed Imagination.
OH! bleft of Heaven, who not the languid fongs
Of Luxury, the firen! not the bribes
Of fordid Wealth, nor all the gaudy spoils
Of pageant Honour, can feduce to leave
Those ever blooming fweets, which, from the store
Of Nature, fair Imagination culls,
To charm th' enliven'd foul! What tho' not all
Of mortal offspring can attain the height
Of envy'd life: tho' only few pofsefs
Patrician treasures, or imperial ftate;
Yet Nature's care, to all her children just,
With richer treasures, and an ampler state,
Endows at large whatever happy man
Will deign to use them.
The rural honours his.
His the city's pomp,
Whate'er adorns
The princely dome, the column and the arch,
The breathing marble and the sculptur'd gold,
Beyond the proud pofsefsor's narrow claim,
His tuneful breast enjoys. For him, the Spring
Diftils her dews, and from the filken gem
Its lucid leaves unfolds: for him, the hand
Of Autumn tinges every fertile branch
With blooming gold, and blushes like the morn.
Each passing hour sheds tribute from her wings;
And still new beauties meet his lonely walk,
And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze
Flies o'er the meadow; not a cloud imbibes
The fetting fun's effulgence; not a strain
From all the tenants of the warbling shade
Afcends; but whence his bofom can partake
Fresh pleasure, unreprov'd. Nor thence partakes
Fresh pleasure only; for th' attentive Mind,
By this harmonious action on her powers,
Becomes herself harmonious: wont fo oft
In outward things to meditate the charm
Of facred order, foon she seeks at home,
To find a kindred order; to exert
Within herself this elegance of love,
This fair infpir'd delight: her temper'd pow'rs
Refine at length, and ev'ry passion wears
A chafter, milder, more attractive mien.
But if to ampler prospects, if to gaze
On Nature's form, where, negligent of all
Thefe lefser graces, fhe assumes the port
Of that Eternal Majefty that weigh'd
The world's foundations, if to these the Mind
Exalts her daring eye; then mightier far
Will be the change, and nobler. Would the forms
Of fervile Cuftom cramp her gen'rous pow'rs?
Would fordid policies, the barb'rous growth
Of Ignorance and Rapine, bow her down
To tame pursuits, to indolence and fear;
Lo! fhe appeals to Nature, to the winds
And rolling waves, the fun's unwearied course,
The elements and feafons: all declare
For what th' eternal MAKER has ordain'd
The pow'rs of man: we feel within ourselves
His energy divine: he tells the heart,
He meant, he made us to behold and love
What he beholds and loves, the general orb
Of life and being; to be great like Him,
Beneficent and active. Thus the men
Whom nature's works inftruct, with God himself
Hold converfe; grow familiar, day by day,
With his conceptions; act upon his plan;
And form to his, the relish of their fouls.
AT the clofe of the day, when the hamlet is still,
And mortals the fweets of forgetfulness prove;
When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill,
And nought but the nightingale's fong in the grove:
'Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar,
While his harp rung symphonious, a Hermit began;
No more with himself or with nature at war,
He thought as a fage, tho' he felt as a man.
"Ah! why, all abandon'd to darkness and woe;
"Why, lone Philomela, that languishing fall?
"For fpring fhall return, and a lover bestow,
"And forrow no longer thy bofom inthral.
"But, if pity inspire thee, renew the fad lay,
"Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn;
"O footh him, whose pleasures like thine pass away : "Full quickly they pass-but they never return.
"Now gliding remote, on the verge of the sky, "The moon half extinguish'd her crescent displays: "But lately I mark'd, when majestic on high
"She fhone, and the planets were loft in her blaze. "Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue
"The path that conducts thee to splendour again; "But man's faded glory what change shall renew! "Ah fool! to exult in a glory fo vain!
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