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In shades like these pursue your favourite joy,
But neighs to the shrill trumpet's dreadful
blast, Till death, and when he groans, he groans
his last !
SURVEY the warlike horse! didst thou in
vest With thunder his robus', distended chest?
THE LION No sense of fear his dauntless soul allays;
YOUNG. 'Tis dreadful to behold his nostrils blaze : To paw the vale be proudly takes delight, FIERCE o'er the sands the lordly Lion stalks, And triumphs in the fulness of his might; Grimly majestic in his lonely walks : High-rais'd, he snuffs the battle from afar, When round he glares, all living creatares And burns to plunge amid the raging war: fly; He mocks at death, and throws his foam He clears the desert with his rolling eye, around,
By the pale moon he takes his destin'd round, And in a storm of fury shakes the ground. Lashes his sides, and furious tears the ground. How does his firm, his rising beart, advance Now shrieks and dying groans the forest fill, Full on the brandish'd sword, and shaken He rages, rends, his rav'nous jaws distil lance ;
With crimson foam, and when the banquet's While his fix'd eye-balls meet the dazzling o'er, shield,
He strides away, and paints his steps with Gaze, and return the lightning of the field! gore. He sinks the sense of pain in gen'rous pride, In flight alone the shepberd puts his trust, Nor feels the shaft that trembles in his side ;) And shudders at the talon in the clust.
With how much beauty is design'd, Each channell’d bark of purest wbite ! With orient pearl each cabin lined, Varying with every change of light.
While with his little slender oars, His silken sail, and tapering mast, The dauntless mariner explores The dangers of the watery waste.
Prepared, should tempests rend the sky,
But when I see that wing so bright,
Then safe on ocean's shelly bed,
So let us catch life's favouring gale, But if fate's adverse winds be rode, Take calmly in th' adventurous sail And find repose in Solitude.
Mild is the Behemoth, though large his frame,
While onprovoked!—This native of the flood
. See, with what strength his harden'd limbs are bound, :19. 6. A uver proof, and shut against a wound.
How like a mountain-cedar moves his tail!
BEHOLD the large Leviatban arise,
Its woods delight the eye, its hills arise,
Clothed in perpetual verdure.-
And to crown the whole
thies The vigorous frame and lofty heart of man This pride of the creation is our HOME! Enervate: round whose stern cerulean brows Our father's, and our own dear native White-winged snow, and cloud, and pearly
land! rain, Freqnent attend, with solemn majesty! Rich queen of mists and vapours! these thy
sons With their cool arms compress; and twist
COW PER. their nerves
ENGLAND, with all thy faults, I love thee For deeds of excellence and high renown.
still : Thus form’d our Edwards, Henrys, Church My country! and while yet a nook is left, hills, Blakes,
Where English minds and manners may be Our Lockes, unr Newtons, and our Miltons
Shall be constrained to love thee. Though See the sun gleams; the living pastures rise,
thy clime After the nurture of the fallen shower,
Be fickle, and thy year nuost part deformed How beautiful! how blue th'ethereal vault,
With dripping rains, or withered by a frost, How verdurous the lawns, how clear the
I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies, brooks!
And fields without a Bower, for warmer Such noble warlike steeds, such herds of kine,
France So sleek, so vast; such spacious flocks of
With all her vines; nor for Ausonia's groves sheep,
Or golden fruitage, and her myrtle bowers. Like flakes of gold illumining the green,
To shake thysenate, and from beights sublime What other paradise adorn but thine,
Of patriot eloquence to flash down fire Britannia? happy, if thy sons would know
Upon thy fues, was never meant my task: Their happiness. To these thy naval streams,
But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake Thy frequent towns superb of busy trade,
Thy joys and sorrows, with as true a heart, And ports magnific add, and stately ships,
As any thunderer there. Innumeroas.
And sedulous to stop the coming tide,
ITALY. Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride.
GOLDSMITH. Onward methinks, and diligently slow, The firm connected balwark seems to grow; Far to the right where Appennine ascends, Spreads its long arms amidst the watery Bright as the summer, Italy extends; roar,
Its uplands sloping deck the mountain's Scoops out an empire, and usarps the shore, side, While the pent ocean rising o'er the pile, Woods over woods in gay theatric pride; Sees an amphibious world beneath him While oft some temple's mould'ring tops smile:
between The slow canal, the yellow blossom’d vale, With venerable grandeur mark the scene. The willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail, The crowned mart, the cultivated plain, Could nature's bounty satisfy the breast, A new creation rescued from his reign. The sons of Italy were surely blest.
Whatever fruits in different climes are
found, That proudly rise, or humbly court the
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, SWITZERLAND.
Whose bright succession decks the varied
Whatever sweets salute the northern sky TURN we to survey
With vernal lives, that blossom but to die; Where rougher climes a nobler race display; These here disporting own the kindred soil, Where the bleak Swiss their stormy man- Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil; sion tread,
While sea-born gales their gelid wings exAnd force a churlish soil for scanty bread :
The first dark day of nothingness,
The last of danger and distress,
The rapture of repose that's there,
That fires not, wins not, weeps not, now,
Appals the gazing mourner's heart, So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's As it to him it could impart roar,
The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon; But bind him to his native mountains more. Yes, but for these, and these alone,