Besides, the lock of one continued growth
Imbibes a clearer and more equal dye.

But lightest wool is theirs, who poorly toil,
Through a dull round, in unimproving farms
Of common-fields: inclofe, inclofe, ye fwains
Why will you joy in common-field, where pitch,
Noxious to wool, muft ftain your motley flock,
To mark your property? The mark dilates,
Enters the flake depreciated, defil'd,

Unfit for beauteous tint: befides, in fields
Promifcuous held, all culture languishes ;
The glebe, exhaufted, thin fupply receives ;
Dull waters reft upon the rushy flats

And barren furrows: none the rifing grove
There plants for late pofterity, nor hedge
To shield the flock, nor copfe for chearing fire;
And, in the distant village, every hearth ·
Devours the graffy fwerd, the verdant-food

Of injur'd herds and flocks, or what the plough
Should turn and moulder for the bearded grains
Pernicious habit, drawing gradual on
Increafing beggary, and Nature's frowns.

Add too, the idle pilferer easier there
Eludes detection, when a lamb or ewe
From intermingled flocks he steals; or when,.
With loofen'd tether of his horfe or cow,
The milky ftalk of the tall green-ear'd corn,
The year's flow-ripening fruit, the anxious hope
Of his laborious neighbour, he destroys.

There

There are, who over-rate our spungy stores,
Who deem that Nature grants no clime, but ours,
To fpread upon its fields the dews of heaven,
And feed the filky fleece; that card, nor comb,
The hairy wool of Gaul can e'er fubdue,

To form the thread, and mingle in the loom,
Unless a third from Britain fwell the heap:
Illufion all; though of our fun and air
Not trivial is the virtue : nor their fruit,
Upon our fnowy flocks, of small efteem:

The grain of brightest tincture none fo well
Imbibes the wealthy Gobelins must to this
Bear witness, and the costlieft of their looms.

And though, with hue of crocus or of rose,
No power of fubtle food, or air, or foil,
Can dye the living fleece; yet 'twill avail
To note their influence in the tinging vafe.
Therefore from herbage of old-paftur'd plains,
Chief from the matted turf of azure marle,
Where grow the whiteft locks, collect thy ftores.
Thofe fields regard not, through whofe recent turf
The miry foil appears: not even the ftreams
Of Yare, or filver Stroud, can purify

Their frequent-fully'd fleece; nor what rough winds, Keen-biting on tempestuous hills, inbrown.

Yet much may be perform'd, to check the force Of Nature's rigor: the high heath, by trees Warm-fhelter'd, may despise the rage of forms: Moors, bogs, and weeping fens, may learn to fimile, And leave in dykes their foon-forgotten tears.

Labor

Labor and Art will every aim atchieve

Of noble bofoms. Bedford Level *, erst
A dreary pathlefs wafte, the coughing flock

Was wont with hairy fleeces to deform ;
And, fmiling with her lure of summer flowers,
The heavy ox, vain-struggling, to ingulph ;
Till one, of that high-honour'd patriot name,
Ruffel, arofe, who drain'd the rushy fen,

Confin'd the waves, bade groves and gardens bloom
And through his new creation led the Ouze,
And gentle Camus, filver-winding streams :
God-like beneficence; from chaos drear
To raise the garden and the fhady grove!
But fee Ierne's moors and hideous bogs,
Immeafurable tract. The traveller

Slow tries his mazy step on th' yielding tuft,
Shuddering with fear: ev'n fuch perfidious wilds,
By labor won, have yielded to the comb

The faireft length of wool. See Deeping fens,
And the long lawns of Bourn. 'Tis Art and Toil
Gives Nature value, multiplies her ftores,
Varies, improves, creates : 'tis Art and Toil
Teaches her woody hills with fruits to fhine,
The pear and tafteful apple; decks with flowers
And foodful pulfe the fields, that often rife,
Admiring to behold their furrows wave
With yellow corn. What changes cannot Toil
With patient Art, effect? There was a time,

In Cambridgeshire.

When

When other regions were the fwains delight,.
And fhepherdlefs Britannia's rufhy vales,
Inglorious, neither trade nor labor knew,
But of rude baskets, homely ruftic geer,
Woven of the flexile willow; till, at length,
The plains of Sarum open'd to the hand
Of patient Culture, and, o'er finking woods,
High Cotswold fhow'd her fummits. Urchinfield,
And Lemfter's crofts, beneath the pheasant's brake,
Long lay unnoted. Toil new pasture gives;
And, in the regions oft of active Gaul,

O'er leffening vineyards fpreads the growing turf.
In eldest times, when kings and hardy chiefs-
In bleeting sheepfolds met, for pureft wool
Phoenicia's hilly tracts were most renown'd,
And fertile Syria's and Judæa's land,

Hermon, and Seir, and Hebron's brooky fides :-
Twice with the murex' crimson hue they ting'd
The fhining fleeces: hence their gorgeous wealth;
And hence arose the walls of ancient Tyre.

Next bufy Colchis, blefs'd with frequent rains,
And lively verdure (who the lucid stream
Of Phafis boafted, and a portly race
Of fair inhabitants) improv'd the fleece ;
When, o'er the deep by flying Phryxus brought,
The fam'd Theffalian ram enrich'd her plains.
This, rifing Greece with indignation view'd,
And youthful Jafon an attempt conceiv'd
Lofty and bold along Peneus' banks,
Afound Olympus' brows, the Mufes' haunts,

He

He rouz'd the brave, to re-demand the fleece.
Attend, ye British swains, the ancient fong.
From every region of gea's fhore

The brave affembled; thofe illuftrious twins,
Caftor and Pollux; Orpheus, tuneful bard;
Zetes and Calais, as the wind in speed;
Strong Hercules; and many a chief renown'd.
On deep Iolcos' fandy shore they throng'd,
Gleaming in armour, ardent of exploits ;
And foon, the laurel cord, and the huge ftone
Up-lifting to the deck, unmoor'd the bark;
Whofe keel, of wondrous length, the skilful hand
Of Argus fashion'd for the proud attempt;
And in th' extended keel a lofty mast

Up-rais'd, and fails full-fwelling; to the chiefs
Unwonted objects: now firit, now they learn'd
Their bolder fteerage over ocean wave,
Led by the golden ftars, as Chiron's art
Had mark'd the fphere celeftial. Wide abroad
Expands the purple deep: the cloudy ifles,
Scyros and Scopelos, and Icos, rife,
And Halonefos: foon huge Lemnos heaves
Her azure head above the level brine,

Shakes off her mifts, and brightens all her cliffs:

While they, her flattering creeks and opening bowers Cautious approaching, in Myrina's port

Caft out the cabled ftone upon the ftrand.

Next to the Myfian fhore they fhape their courfe,
But with too eager hafte : in the white foam
His car Alcides breaks; howe'er, not long