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C rown’d with the fickle, and the wheaten

u : sneaf, . While Autumn, nodding o’er the yellow plain, Comes jovial on ; the Doric reed once more, Well-pleas’d, I tune. Whate'er the wintry

frost Nitrous prepar’d; the various blossom’d spring Put in white promise forth; and summer-funs Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view, Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme.

r. . . . When the bright Virgin gives the beau-

teous days, And Libra weighs in equal scales the year; From heaven's high cope: the fierce effulgence

look Of parting Summer, a serener blue With golden light enliven’d wide invests The happy world. Attemper'd suns arise, Sweet-beam’d, and thedding oft thro'°lucid

clouds A pleasing calm ; while broad, and brown

below Extensive harvests hang the heavy head.. Rich, filent, deep, they stand; for not a gaile Rolls its light billows 'o'er the bending plain ; A calm of plenty ! till the ruffled air Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to.

blow. Rent is the fleecy mantle of the fky; The clouds fly different, and the sudden fun By fits effulgent gilds th’illumen'd field, Ff3


And black by fits the shadows sweep along.
A gayly checker'd heart-expanding view,
Far as the circling eye can shoot around,
Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn.

Soon as the morning trembles o’er the sky, And, unperceiv’d, unfolds the spreading day; Before the ripen'd field the reapers stand, In fair array : each by the lass he loves, To bear the rougher part, and mitigate By nameless gentle offices her toil. At once they stoop and swell the lusty fheaves; While thro' their chearful band the rural talk, The rural scandal and the rural jest Fly harmless, ta deceive the tedious time, And steal unfelt the sultry hours away. ' Behind the master walks, builds up the shocks; And, conscious, glancing oft on every side His fated eye, feels his heart heave with joy. The gleaners spread around, and here and . there, Spike after spike, their sparing harvest pick. Be not too narrow, hulbandmen ! but fing, From the full fheaf, with charitable stealth, The liberal handful. Think, oh grateful

think! How good the God of harvest is to you; Who: pours. abundance o’er. your flowing

fields ; While these unhappy partners of your kind Wide-hover round you, like the fowls of hea.

ven And ask their humble dole. The various

turns Of fortune ponder ;, that your fons may want

What What now, with hard reluctance, faint, ye

give. . The lovely young Lavinia once had friends; And fortune smil'd, deceitful, on her birth. For in her helpless years depriv'd of all, Of every stay, save innocence and heaven, She with her widow'd mother, feeble, old, And poor, liv’d in a cottage, far retir'd Among the windings of a woody vale; By solitude and deep surrounding shades, But more by bashful modesty, conceal'd. Together thus they shunn'd the cruel scorn Which virtue, sunk to poverty, would meet From giddy fashion and low-minded pride :: Almoit on nature's common:bounty fed. Like the gay birds that sung them to repose, Content and careless of to-morrow's fare. Her form was fresher than the morning-rose, . When the dew wetsits leaves, unstain’d and pure, As is the lily, or the mountain-snow.. The modeft virtues mingled in her eyes, Still on the ground dejected; darting all Their humid beams into the blooming flowers :: Or when the mournful tale her mothgr told, Of what her faithless fortune promis'd once, Thrill'd in her thought, they, like the dewy star Of evening, thone in tears.. A native grace Sat fair-proportion’d on her polish'd limbs, Veil'd in a simple robe, their best attire, Beyond the pomp of dress; for loveliness Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, But is when unadorn'd adorn'd the most. Thoughtless of beauty, he was beauty's self, Recluse amid the close-embowering woods. As in the hollow breast of Appenine, Beneath the shelter of encircling hills,

A myrtle rises far from human eye,
And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild;
So flourish'd blooming, and unseen by all,
The sweet Lavinia, till, at length, compellid
By strong Necessity's supreme command,
With smiling patience in her looks, she went
To glean Palemon's fields. The pride of

Palemon was, the generous, and the rich
Who led the rural life in all its joy,
And elegance, such as Arcadian song
Transmits from antient uncorrupted times;
When tyrant custom had not shackled man,
But free to follow nature was the mode.
He then, his fancy with autumnal scenes
Amusing, chanc'd beside his reaper-train
To walk, when poor Lavinia drew his eye ::
Unconscious of her power, and turning quick
With unaffected bluses from his gaze:
He saw her charming, but he saw not half
The charms her down-cast modesty conceal'd.
That very moment love and chaste desire
Sprung in his bosom, to himself unknowir;
For still the world prevail'd, and its dread.

Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn,
Should his heart own a gleaner in the field:
And thus in secret to his soul he figh’d.

" What pity! that so delicate a form,
«. By beauty kindled, where enlivening sense;
6. And more than vulgar goodness seem to

dwell,, 66. Should be devoted to the rude embrace i • Of some indecent clown? She looks, me

thinks 66. Of old Acasto's liñe; and to my mind ..

66 Recalls

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6 Recals that patron of my happy life,
6 From whom my liberal fortune took its rise;
“Now to the dust gone down; his houses,

“ And once fair-Spreading family dissolv’d.'
“ 'Tis said that in some lone obscure retreat,
46 Urg'd by remembrance sad, and decent pride,
“ Far from those scenes which knew their bet-

ter days, His aged widow and his daughter live, 6. Whom yet my fruitless search could never

• find. “ Romantic wish, would this the daughter

were ! "
When, strict inquiring, from herself he

She was the same, the daughter of his friend,
Of bountiful Acasto; who can speak
The mingled passions that surpriz'd his heart,
And thro' his nerves in shivering transport ran?
Then blaz'd his smother'd-flame, avow'd and

And as he view'd her, ardent, o'er and o'er,
Love, gratitude, and pity wept at once.
Confus'd, and frighten’d at his sudden tears,
Her rising beauties Aush'd a higher bloom;
As thus Palemon, passionate, and just,
Pour'd out the pious rapture of his soul.

“ And art thou then Acasto's dear remains ?
“ She; whom my restless gratitude has sought,
“ So long in vain ?, Oh yes ! the very same,
6 The soften'd image of my noble friend,
“ Alive, his every feature, every look,
“ More elegantly touch’d. Sweeter than

spring ! " Thou sole surviving blossom from the root

6. That.

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