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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.
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,
" What pity! that so delicate a form,
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 ..
6 Recals that patron of my happy life,
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 ! "
“ And art thou then Acasto's dear remains ?
spring ! " Thou sole surviving blossom from the root