A little rule, a little fway,
A fun beam in a winter's day,
Is all the proud and mighty have
Between the cradle and the grave.
And fee the rivers how they run,
Through woods and meads, in fhade and fun,
Sometimes fwift, fometimes flow,
Wave fucceeding wave, they go
A various journey to the deep,
Like human life to endless sleep!
Thus is nature's vefture wrought,
To inftruct our wand'ring thought;
Thus fhe dreffes green and gay,
To disperse our cares away.
Ever charming, ever new,
When will the landskip tire the view!
The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody vallies, warm and low;
The windy fummit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky!
The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tow'r,
The naked rock, the fhady bow't;
The town and village, dome and farm,
Each give each a double charm,
As pearls upon an Æthiop's arm.
See on the mountain's fouthern fide,
Where the profpect opens wide,
Where the evening gilds the tide ;
How close and small the hedges lie!
What streaks of meadows cross the eye!
A step methinks may pass the stream,
So little diftant dangers feem;
So we mistake the future's face,
Ey'd through hope's deluding glass;
fummits foft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,
Which to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear;
Still we tread the fame coarse way,
The present's still a cloudy day.
O may I with myself agree,
And never covet what I fee!
Content me with an humble fhade,
My paffions tam'd, my wifhes laid;
For while our wishes wildly roll,
We banish quiet from the foul:
'Tis thus the bufy beat the air;
And mifers gather wealth and care.
Now, ev'n now, my joys run high,
As on the mountain-turf I lie;
While the wanton Zephyr fings,
And in the vale perfumes his wings;
While the waters murmur deep;
While the shepherd charms his sheep;
While the birds unbounded fly,
And with mufic fill the sky,
Now, ev'n now, my joys run high.
Be full, ye courts, be great who will; Search for Peace with all your fkill: Open wide the lofty door,
Seek her on the marble floor,
In vain you search, she is not there
In vain ye fearch the domes of care!
Grass and flowers Quiet treads,
On the meads and mountain-heads,
Along with Pleasure, close ally'd
Ever by each other's fide:
And often, by the murm'ring rill,
Hears the thrush, while all is still,
Within the groves of Grongar Hill.
Afpice murorum moles, præruptaque faxa,
Obrutaque borrenti vafta theatra fitu:
Hæc funt Roma. Viden' velut ipfa cadavera tantæ Urbis adhuc fpirent imperiofa minas?
NOUGH of Grongar, and the fhady dales
Of winding Towy, Merlin's fabled haunt,
I fung inglorious. Now the love of arts,
And what in metal or in ftone remains
Of proud antiquity, through various realms
And various languages and ages fam'd,
Bears me remote, o'er Gallia's woody bounds,
O'er the cloud-piercing Alps remote; beyond
The vale of Arno purpled with the vine,
Beyond the Umbrian and Etrufcan hills,
To Latium's wide champain, forlorn and wafte,
Where yellow Tiber his neglected wave
Mournfully rolls. Yet once again, my Mufe,
Yet once again, and foar a loftier flight;
Lo the refiftless theme, imperial Rome!
Fall'n, fall'n, a filent heap; her heroes all
Sunk in their urns; behold the pride of pomp,
The throne of nations fall'n; obfcur'd in duft;
Ev'n yet majestical; the folemn scene
Elates the foul, while now the rifing fun
Flames on the ruins in the purer air
Tow'ring aloft, upon the glitt'ring plain,
Like broken rocks, a vaft circumference;
Rent palaces, crufh'd columns, rifted moles,
Fanes roll'd on fanes, and tombs on buried tombs.
Deep lies in duft the Theban obelisc,
. Immenfe along the wafte; minuter art,
Gliconian forms, or Phidian, fubtly fair,
O'erwhelming; as th' immenfe LEVIATHAN
The finny brood, when near Ierne's fhore
Out-stretch'd, unwieldly, his ifland length appears
Above the foamy flood. Globose and huge,
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