"Et nunc omnis ager, nunc omnis parturit arbos, "Nunc frondent fylvæ, nunc formofiffimus annus."
OME, gentle Spring, ethereal Mildness, come,
And from the bofom of yon dropping cloud,
While mufic wakes around, veil'd in a fhower
Of shadowing rofes, on our plains defcend.
O Hertford, fitted or to shine in courts
With unaffected grace, or walk the plain
With innocence and meditation join'd
In foft affemblage, liften to my fong,
Which thy own Season paints; when Nature all
Is blooming and benevolent, like thee.
And fee where furly Winter paffes off,
Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts:
His blafts obey, and quit the howling hill,
The shatter'd foreft, and the ravag'd vale;
While fofter gales succeed, at whose kind touch,
Diffolving fnows in livid torrents loft,
The mountains lift their green heads to the sky.
As yet the trembling year is unconfirm❜d,
And Winter oft at eve refumes the breeze,
Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving fleets
Deform the day delightless: fo that scarce
The bittern knows his time, with bill ingulpht
To shake the founding marsh; or from the shore
The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath,
And fing their wild notes to the liftening waste.
At laft from Aries rolls the bounteous fun,
And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more
Th' expanfive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold;
But, full of life and vivifying foul,
Lifts the light clouds fublime, and spreads them thin, 30
Fleecy and white, o'er all-furrounding heaven.
Forth fly the tepid airs; and unconfin'd,
Unbinding earth, the moving foftnefs ftrays.
Joyous, th' impatient husbandman perceives
Relenting Nature, and his lufty fteers
Drives from their stalls, to where the well-us'd plough,
Lies in the furrow, loofen'd from the froft.
There, unrefufing, to the harness'd yoke
They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil,
Chear'd by the fimple fong and foaring lark.
Meanwhile incumbent o'er the fhining share
The mafter leans, removes th' obftructing clay,
Winds the whole work, and fidelong lays the glebe.
White through the neighbouring field the fower stalks,
With meafur'd step; and liberal throws the grain 49
Into the faithful bofom of the ground:
The harrow follows harfh, and fhuts the fcene.
Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious man
Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow!
Ye foftening dews, ye tender fhowers, defcend!
And temper all, thou world-reviving fun,
Into the perfect year! Nor ye who live
In luxury and ease, in pomp and pride,
Think these loft themes unworthy of your ear:
Such themes as these the rural Maro fung
To wide-imperial Rome, in the full height
Of elegance and taste, by Greece refin'd.
In ancient times, the facred plough employ'd
The kings, and aweful fathers of mankind:
And some, with whom compar'd your infect-tribes 60
Are but the beings of a fummer's day,
Have held the scale of empire, rul'd the storm
Of mighty war; then, with unwearied hand,
Difdaining little delicacies, feiz'd
The plough, and greatly independent liv'd.
Ye generous Britons, venerate the plough;
And o'er your hills, and long withdrawing vales,
Let Autumn spread his treasures to the fun,
Luxuriant and unbounded: as the sea,
Far through his azure turbulent domain,
Your empire owns, and from a thousand fhores
Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports ;
So with superior boon may your rich foil,
Exuberant, Nature's better bleffings pour
O'er every land, the naked nations clothe,
And be th' exhauftlefs granary of a world!
Nor only through the lenient air this change,
Delicious, breathes; the penetrative fun
His force deep darting to the dark retreat
Of vegetation, fets the fteaming Power
At large, to wander o'er the vernant earth,
In various hues; but chiefly thee, gay Green!
Thou fmiling Nature's univerfal robe!
United light and shade! where the fight dwells
With growing ftrength, and ever-new delight.
From the moift meadow to the wither'd hill,
Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs,
And fwells, and deepens, to the cherish'd eye.
The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves
Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees,
Till the whole leafy foreft ftands display'd,
In full luxuriance to the fighing gales;
Where the deer ruftle through the twining brake,
And the birds fing conceal'd. At once array'd
In all the colours of the flushing year,
By Nature's swift and secret-working hand,
The garden glows, and fills the liberal air
With lavish fragrance; while the promis'd fruit
Lies yet a little embryo, unperceiv'd,
Within its crimson folds. Now from the town
Buried in smoke, and fleep, and noisome damps,
Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields,
Where freshness breathes, and dafh the trembling drops
From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze
Of fweet-briar hedges I purfue my walk;
Or taste the smell of dairy; or ascend
Some eminence, Augufta, in thy plains,
And fee the country, far diffus'd around,
One boundless blush, one white-empurpled shower
Of mingled bloffoms; where the raptur'd eye
Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath
The fair profufion, yellow Autumn spies.
If, brufh'd from Ruffian wilds, a cutting gale Rife not, and scatter from his humid wings
The clammy mildew; or, dry-blowing, breathe 115 Untimely froft; before whofe baleful blaft
The full-blown Spring through all her foliage fhrinks,
Joylefs and dead, a wide-dejected waste.
For oft, engender'd by the hazy north,
Myriads on myriads, infect armies waft
Keen in the poifon'd breeze; and wasteful eat,
Through buds and bark, into the blacken'd core,
Their eager way. A feeble race! yet oft
The facred fons of vengeance; on whose course
Corrofive famine waits, and kills the year.
To check this plague the skilful farmer chaff,
And blazing straw, before his orchard burns;
Till, all involv'd in smoke, the latent foe
From every cranny fuffocated falls:
Or scatters o'er the blooms the pungeant dust
Of pepper, fatal to the frofty tribe:
Or, when th' envenom'd leaf begins to curl,
With sprinkled water drowns them in their nest;
Nor, while they pick them up with busy bill,
The little trooping birds unwisely scares.
Be patient, fwains; thefe cruel-feeming winds
Blow not in vain. Far hence they keep reprefs'd
Thofe deepening clouds on clouds, furcharg'd with rain,
That, o'er the vaft Atlantic hither borne,
In endless train, would quench the fummer-blaze, 140
And, chearless, drown the crude unripened year.
The norh-east spends his rage; he now shut up
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