Of Athens, which, in folemn filence, sheds
Her venerable ruins to the duft.
The weary Arabs roam from plain to plain,
Guiding the languid herd in quest of food ;
And fhift their little home's uncertain fcene
With frequent farewell: ftrangers, pilgrims all,
As were their fathers. No fweet fall of rain
May there be heard; nor sweeter liquid lapse
Of river, o'er the pebbles gliding by
In murmurs: goaded by the rage of thirst,
Daily they journey to the distant clefts
Of craggy rocks, where gloomy palms o'erhang
The ancient wells, deep funk by toil immense,
'Toil of the patriarchs, with fublime intent
Themselves and long posterity to serve.
There, at the public hour of fultry noon,
They share the bev'rage, when to watʼring come,
And grateful umbrage, all the tribes around,
And their lean flocks, whofe various bleatings fill
The echoing caverns: then is abfent none,
Fair nymph or fhepherd, each infpiring each
To wit, and fong, and dance, and active feats;
In the fame ruftic fcene, where JACOB Won
Fair RACHAEL's bofom, when a rock's vaft weight
From the deep dark-mouth'd well his ftrength re-
And to her circling fheep refreshment gave." [mov'd,
Such are the perils, fuch the toils of life,
In foreign climes. But speed thy flight, my muse; Swift turns the year; and our unnumber'd flocks On fleeces overgrown uneafy lie.
Now, jolly fwains, the harvest of
Prepare to reap, and feek the founding caves
Of high Brigantium, where, by ruddy flames,
Vulcan's ftrong fons, with nervous arm, around
The fteady anvil and the glaring mass,
Clatter their heavy hammers down by turns,
Flatt'ning the fteel; from their rough hands receive
The sharpen'd inftrument, that from the flock
Severs the fleece. If verdant elder fpreads
Her filver flow'rs; if humble daifies yield
To yellow crow-foot, and luxuriant grass,
Gay fhearing-time approaches. First, howe'er,
a The caves of Brigantium-the forges of Sheffield in Yorkshire, where the fhepherds fhears and all edge-tools
Drive to the double fold, upon the brim
Of a clear river, gently drive the flock,
And plunge them one by one into the flood:
Plung'd in the flood, not long the struggler finks,
With his white flakes, that gliften thro' the tide;
The sturdy ruftic, in the middle wave,
Awaits to seize him rifing; one arm bears
His lifted head above the limpid stream,
While the full clammy fleece the other laves
Around, laborious, with repeated toil;
And then refigns him to the funny bank,
Where, bleating loud, he shakes his dripping locks.
Shear them the fourth or fifth return of morn,
Left touch of bufy fly-blows wound their skin :
Thy peaceful fubjects without murmur yield
Their yearly tribute: 'tis the prudent part
To cherish and be gentle, while ye strip
The downy vefture from their tender fides
Press not too close; with caution turn the points;
And from the head in reg'lar rounds proceed :
But speedy, when ye chance to wound, with tar
Prevent the wingy swarm and scorching heat;
And careful house them, if the low'ring clouds
Mingle their stores tumultuous: through the gloom
Then thunder oft with pond'rous wheels rolls loud,
And breaks the crystal urns of heav'n: adown
Falls ftreaming rain. Sometimes among the steeps
Of Cambrian glades, (pity the Cambrian glades)
Faft tumbling brooks on brooks enormous swell,
And fudden overwhelm their vanifh'd fields:
Down with the flood away the naked fheep,
Bleating in vain, are borne, and ftraw-built huts,
And rifted trees, and heavy enormous rocks,
Down with the rapid torrent to the deep.
At fhearing-time, along the lively vales,
Rural feftivities are often heard:
Beneath each blooming arbor all is joy
And lufty merriment: while on the grafs
The mingled youth in gaudy circles sport,
We think the golden age again return'd,
And all the fabled Dryades in dance.
Leering they bound along, with laughing air,
To the fhrill pipe, and deep remurm'ring cords
Of th' ancient harp, or tabor's hollow found.
While th' old apart, upon a bank reclin❜d,«
Attend the tuneful carol, foftly mixt
With ev'ry murmur of the fliding wave,
And ev'ry warble of the feather'd choir;
Music of paradife! which still is heard,
When the heart liftens; ftill the views appear
Of the first happy garden, when content
To nature's flow'ry scenes directs the fight.
Yet we abandon those Elysian walks,
Then idly for the lost delight repine :
As greedy mariners, whofe defp'rate fails
Skim o'er the billows of the foamy flood,
Fancy they see the lefs'ning fhores retire,
And figh a farewell to the finking hills.
Could I recall thofe notes, which once the mufe Heard at a fhearing, near the woody fides
Of blue-topp'd Wreakin'. Yet the carols fweet,
Through the deep maze of the memorial cell,
Faintly remurmur. First arose in song
Hoar-headed DAMON, venerable fwain,
The footheft fhepherd of the flow'ry vale.
|