His high endeavour, and his glad fuccefs,
His ftrength to fuffer, and his will to serve.
But oh thou bounteous Giver of all good,
Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown!
Give what thou canft, without thee we are poor;
And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away.

THE TASK.

BOOK VI.

ARGUMENT OF THE SIXTH BOOK.

Bells at a diftance.-Their effect.-A fine noon in winter.-A fheltered walk.-Meditation better than books. Our familiarity with the course of nature makes it appear lefs wonderful than it is.— The transformation that Spring effects in a fhrubbery described.—A mistake concerning the course of nature corrected.—God maintains it by an unremitted act.-The amufements fashionable at this hour of the day reproved.—Animals happy, a delightful fight.-Origin of cruelty to animals.-That it is a great crime proved from scripture.—That proof illuftrated by a tale.-A line drawn between the lawful and unlawful deftruction of them.Their good and useful properties infifted on.Apology for the encomiums beftowed by the author on animals.-Inftances of man's extravagant praise of man.-The groans of the creation shall have an end.-A view taken of the refloration of all things. -An invocation and an invitation of him who Shall bring it to pafs.-The retired man vindicated from the charge of uselessness.—Conclufion.

THE TASK.

BOOK VI.

THE WINTER WALK AT NOON.

THERE is in fouls a fympathy with founds,
And as the mind is pitched the ear is pleased
With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave,
Some chord in unifon with what we hear
Is touched within us, and the heart replies.
How soft the mufic of those village bells,
Falling at intervals upon the ear
In cadence sweet, now dying all away,
Now pealing loud again, and louder ftill,
Clear and fonorous, as the gale comes on!
With easy force it opens all the cells

Where memory flept. Wherever I have heard
A kindred melody, the fcene recurs,

And with it all its pleafures and its pains.
Such comprehenfive views the spirit takes,
That in a few fhort moments I retrace
(As in a map the voyager his course)
The windings of my way through many years..
Short as in retrospect the journey seems,
It seemed not always fhort; the rugged path,
And profpect oft fo dreary and forlorn,
Moved many a figh at its difheartening length.
Yet feeling prefent evils, while the past
Faintly imprefs the mind, or not at all,
How readily we wifh time spent revoked,
That we might try the ground again, where once
(Through inexperience, as we now perceive)
We miffed that happiness we might have found!
Some friend is gone, perhaps his fon's best friend,
A father, whofe authority, in fhow

When moft fevere, and muftering all its force,
Was but the graver countenance of love;

Whofe favour, like the clouds of fpring, might lower,
And utter now and then an awful voice,

But had a bleffing in its darkest frown,

Threatening at once and nourishing the plant.

We loved, but not enough, the gentle hand,