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"O let me now, into a richer foil,

Beat keen, and heavy, on thy tender years?

"Tranfplant thee fafe! where vernal funs, and fhow'rs,

"Diffuse their warmeft, largest influence;

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"And of my garden be the pride and joy!

“Ill it befits thee, oh it ill befits.
"ACASTO's daughter, his whofe open stores,,
"Tho' vaft, were little to his ampler heart,
"The father of a country, thus to pick

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"The very refuse of thofe harveft-fields,

"Which from his bounteous friendship I enjoy. "Then throw that fhameful pittance from thy hand, "But ill apply'd to fuch a rugged task;

"The fields, the master, all, my fair, are thine; 290 "If to the various bleffings which thy house "Has on me lavifh'd, thou wilt add that blifs "That dearest blifs, the pow'r of bleffing thee!"

HERE ceas'd the youth: yet ftill his fpeaking eye

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Express'd the facred triumph of his foul,
With conscious virtue, gratitude, and love,
Above the vulgar joy divinely rais'd.

Nor waited he reply.

Won by the charm

Of goodness irrefiftible, and all

In fweet diforder loft, fhe blush'd confent..

The news immediate to her mother brought,

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While, pierc'd with anxious thought, fhe pin'd away

The lonely moments for LAVINIA's fate ;.

Amaz'd, and scarce believing what fhe heard,

Joy feiz'd her wither'd veins, and one bright gleam

Of fetting life fhone on her ev'ning-hours:
Not lefs enraptur'd than the happy pair;
Who flourish'd long in tender blifs, and rear'd
A num'rous offspring, lovely like themselves,
And good, the grace of all the country round.

DEFEATING oft the labours of the year,

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The fultry fouth collects a potent blast.
At first, the groves are scarcely feen to stir

Their trembling tops; and a still murmur runs
Along the foft-inclining fields of corn.

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But as the aërial tempeft fuller fwells,

And in one mighty ftream, invisible,

Immenfe, the whole excited atmosphere,

Impetuous rushes o'er the founding world;

Strain'd to the root, the stooping forest pours.
A ruftling fhow'r of yet untimely leaves.
High-beat, the circling mountains eddy in,
From the bare wild, the diffipated storm,
And fend it in a torrent down the vale..

Expos'd, and naked, to its utmost rage,
Thro' all the fea of harvest rolling round,

The billowy plain floats wide; nor can evade,

Tho' pliant to the blaft, its feizing force;

Or whirl'd in air, or into vacant chaff

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Shook wafte. And fometimes too a burst of rain, 330
Swept from the black horizon, broad, defcends

In one continuous flood. Still over head
The mingling tempeft weaves its gloom, and ftill
The deluge deepens; till the fields around.

Lie funk, and flatted, in the fordid wave.
Sudden, the ditches fwell; the meadows fwim.
Red, from the hills, innum❜rable streams
Tumultuous roar; and high above its banks
The river lift; before whofe rushing tide,

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Herds, flocks, and harvests, cottages, and fwains, 340
Roll mingled down; all that the winds had fpar'd
In one wild moment ruin'd; the big hopes,

And well-earn'd treasures of the painful year.
Fled to fome eminence, the husbandman
Helpless beholds the miferable wreck
Driving along; his drowning ox at once

Defcending, with his labours fcatter'd round,
He fees; and inftant o'er his shiv'ring thought
Comes Winter unprovided, and a train

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Of clamant children dear. Ye masters, then,
Be mindful of the rough laborious hand,
That finks you foft in elegance and ease ;
Be mindful of thofe limbs in ruffet clad

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Whofe toil to yours is warmth, and graceful pride,
And oh be mindful of that fparing 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 fwept away.

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HERE the rude clamour of the sportsman's joy, 360 The gun fast-thund'ring, and the winded horn, Would tempt the Muse to sing the rural Game: How, in his mid-career, the spaniel struck,

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Stiff, by the tainted gale, with open nofe,
Outftretch'd, and finely fenfible, draws full,
Fearful, and cautious, on the latent prey;
As in the fun the circling covey bask
Their varied plumes, and watchful ev'ry way,
Thro' the rough stubble turn the secret eye.
Caught in the meshy fnare, in vain they beat
Their idle wings, intangled more and more:
Nor on the furges of the boundless air,
Tho' borne triumphant, are they fafe; the gun,
Glanc'd juft, and fudden, from the fowler's eye
O'ertakes their founding pinions; and again,
Immediate, brings them from the tow'ring wing,
Dead to the ground; or drives them wide-difpers'd,
Wounded, and wheeling various, down the wind..

THESE are not fubjects for the peaceful muse,
Nor will fhe ftain with fuch her fpotless fong;
Then most delighted, when the focial fees.
The whole mix'd animal-creation round
Alive, and happy. "Tis not joy to her,
This falfely cheerful barb'rous game of death;
This rage of pleasure, which the restless youth
Awakes, impatient, with the gleaming morn;
When beafts of prey retire, that all night long,
Urg'd by neceffity, had rang'd the dark,
As if their confcious ravage fhunn'd the light,
Afham'd. Not fo the fteady tyrant Man,
Who with the thoughtless infolence of pow'r
Inflam'd, beyond the most infuriate wrath

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Of the worst monfter that e'er roam'd the waste,
For fport alone purfues the cruel chace,

Amid the beamings of the gentle days.
Upbraid, ye rav'ning tribes, our wanton rage,
For hunger kindles you, and lawless want;
But lavish fed, in Nature's bounty roll'd,
To joy at anguish, and delight in blood,
Is what your horrid bosoms never knew.

POOR is the triumph o'er the timid hare!
Scar'd from the corn, and now to fome lone feat
Retir'd: the rushy fen; the ragged furze,
Stretch'd o'er the ftony heath; the ftubble chapt;
The thiftly lawn; the thick entangl'd broom;
Of the fame friendly hue, the wither'd fern;
The fallow ground laid open to the fun,
Concoctive; and the nodding fandy bank,
Hung o'er the mazes of the mountain brook.
Vain is her best precaution; tho' fhe fits
Conceal'd, with folded ears, unfleeping eyes,
By Nature rais'd to take the horizon in ;
And head couch'd clofe betwixt her hairy feet,
In act to spring away. The fcented dew
Betrays her early labyrinth; and deep,
In fcatter'd fullen op'nings, far behind,
With ev'ry breeze the hears the coming storm.
But nearer, and more frequent, as it loads
The fighing gale, the fprings amazʼd, and all
The favage foul of game is up at once:
The pack full-op'ning, various; the fhrill horn

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