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Folding the Flocks.

133

FOLDING THE FLOCKS.

SHEPHERDS all, and maidens fair,
Fold your flocks up; for the air
'Gins to thicken, and the sun
Already his great course hath run.
See the dew-drops, how they kiss
Ev'ry little flow'r that is ;
Hanging on their velvet heads
Like a string of crystal beads.
See the heavy clouds low falling,
And bright Hesperus down calling
The dead night from under ground;
At whose rising, mists unsound,
Damps, and vapours, fly apace,
Hov'ring o'er the smiling face
Of these pastures, where they come,
Striking dead both bud and bloom :
Therefore, from such danger lock
Ev'ry one his loved flock,
And let your dogs lie loose without,
Lest the wolf come as a scout.

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134

Village Sounds.
From the mountain, and, ere day,
Bear a lamb or kid away;
Or the crafty thievish fox
Break upon your fimple flocks.

FLETCHER.

VILLAGE SOUNDS.

Sweet was the found, when oft, at ev'ning's

close Up yonder hill the village murmur rose ! There, as I pafs’d with careless steps and flow, The mingling notes came foften’d from below: The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung ; The sober herd that low'd to meet their young: The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool;

The playful children just let loose from school ; · The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whisp'ring

wind ; And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind : These, all, in soft confusion sought the shade, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.

GOLDSMITH

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Ev'n when the farmer, now secure of fear,
Sends in the swains to spoil the finish'd year;
Ev’n when the reaper fills his greedy hands,
And binds the golden sheaves in brittle bands;
Oft have I seen a fadden storm arise
From all the warring winds that sweep the skies.
The heavy harvest from the root is torn,
And whirl'd aloft the lighter stubble borne;
With such a force the flying rack is driv’n,
And such a winter wears the face of heav'n:
The lofty skies at once come pouring down,
The promis'd crop and golden labours drown.'
The dikes are fill’d, and, with a roaring sound,
The rising rivers float the nether ground;
And rocks the bellowing voice of boiling seas

rebound.
The father of the gods his glory shrouds,
Involv'd in tempests and a night of clouds ;
And from the middle darkness flashing out,
By fits he deals his fiery bolts about.

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Deep horror feizes ev'ry human breast,
Their pride is humbled, and their fear confeft:
While he from high his rolling thunder throws,
And fires the mountains with repeated blows:
The rocks are from their old foundations rent;
The winds redouble, and the rains augment;
The waves in heaps are daih'd against the shore,
And now the woods and now the billows roar.

DRYDEN'S VIRGIL.

DAY-BREAK.

SEE, the day begins to break,
And the light shoots like a streak
Of subtle fire; the wind blows cold,
While the morning doth unfold ;
Now the birds begin to rouse,
And the squirrel from the boughs
Leaps, to get him nuts and fruit;
The early lark, that erst was mute,
Carols in the rising day
Many a note and many a lay.

FLETCHER,

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Sweet rural scene

Of flocks and green!
At careless ease my limbs are spread;

All nature still,

But yonder rill !
And list’ning pines nod o'er my head:

In prospect wide

The boundless tide !
Waves cease to foam, and winds to roar :

Without a breeze,

· The curling seas Dance on in measure to the shore.

Through nature wide,

Is nought descried
So rich in pleasure and surprise ;

When all serene, i

How sweet the scene !
How dreadful when the billows rise ! .

When tempests cease,
And, hush'd in peace,

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