so inimitably; and who can forbear joining with to give the reader some of that true pleasure which him in this declaration of his, which has been the they, in their agreeable succession, are always sure rapture of ages? to inspire into my heart.
Me vero primum dulces ante omnia Musa,
Quarum sacra fero ingenti perculsus amore,
Accipiant; Cœlique vias et sidera monstrent,
Defectus solis varios, lunæque labores:
Unde tremor terris: qua vi maria alta tumescant
Obicibus ruptis, rursusque in seipsa residant:
Quid tantum oceano properent se tingere soles
Hyberni: vel quæ tardis mora noctibus obstat.
Sin, has ne possim naturæ accedere partes,
Frigidus obstiterit circum præcordia sanguis;
Rura mihi et rigui placeant in valibus amnis
Flumina amem silvasque inglorius.
Which may be Englished thus:
Me may the Muses, my supreme delight!
Whose priest I am, smit with immense desire,
Snatch to their care; the starry tracts disclose,
The sun's distress, the labours of the moon;
DOUBTFUL TO WHAT PATRON HE SHOULD ADDRESS
HIS POEM CALLED WINTER.
SOME peers, perhaps, have skill to judge, 'tis true;
Yet no mean prospect bounds the Muse's view.
Firm in your native strength, thus nobly shown,
Slight such delusive props, and stand alone;
Fruitless dependance oft has found too late
That greatness rarely dwells among the great.
Patrons are Nature's nobles, not the state's,
And wit's a title no broad seal creates:
Whence the earth quakes; and by what force the deeps E'en kings, from whose high source all honours
Heave at the rocks, then on themselves reflow:
Why winter-suns to plunge in ocean speed;
And what retards the lazy summer-night.
But, lest I should these mystic truths attain,
If the cold current freezes round my heart,
The country me, the brooky vales may please
Mid woods and streams unknown.
I can not put an end to this Preface without taking the freedom to offer my most sincere and grateful acknowledgments to all those gentlemen who have given my first performance so favourable a reception.
It is with the best pleasure, and a rising ambition, that I reflect on the honour Mr. Hill has done me in recommending my poem to the world after a manner so peculiar to himself, than whom none approves and obliges with a nobler and more unreserving promptitude of soul. His favours are the very smiles of humanity, graceful and easy, flowing from and to the heart. This agreeable train of thought awakens naturally in my mind all the other parts of his great and amiable character, which I know not well how to quit, and yet dare not here pursue.
Every reader who has a heart to be moved, must feel the most gentle power of poetry in the lines with which Mira has graced my poem.
Are poor in power when they would souls bestow.
Heedless of fortune then look down on state,
Balanced within by reason's conscious weight:
Divinely proud of independent will,
Prince of your passions, live their sovereign still.
He who stoops safe beneath a patron's shade
Shines, like the moon, but by another's aid;
Free truth should open, and unbias'd steer,
Strong as heaven's heat, and as its brightness clear.
O, swell not then the bosoms of the vain
With false conceit that you protection gain;
Poets, like you, their own protectors stand,
Placed above aid from pride's inferior hand.
Time, that devours the lord's unlasting name,
Shall lend her soundless depth to float your fame.
On verse like yours no smiles from power expect,
Born with a worth that doomed you to neglect;
Yet, would your wit be noised, reflect no more,
Let the smooth veil of flattery silk you o'er;
Aptly attach'd the court's soft climate try,
Learn your pen's duty from your patron's eye.
Ductile of soul, each pliant purpose wind,
And, tracing interest close, leave doubt behind:
Then shall your name strike loud the public ear;
For through good fortune virtue's self shines clear.
It perhaps might be reckoned vanity in me, to say how richly I value the approbation of a gentleman of Mr. Malloch's fine and exact taste, so just- But, in defiance of our taste to charm! ly dear and valuable to all those that have the hap-And fancy's force with judgment's caution arm! piness of knowing him; and who, to say no more Disturb, with busy thought, so lull'd an age! of him, will abundantly make good to the world And plant strong meanings o'er the peaceful page! the early promise his admired piece of William Impregnate sound with sense! teach nature art! and Margaret has given. And warm e'en Winter till it thaws the heart! How could you thus your country's rules transgress, Yet think of patrons, and presume success?
I only wish my description of the various appearance of Nature in Winter, and, as I purpose, in the other Seasons, may have the good fortune
OH gaudy summer, veil thy blushing head,
Dull is thy sun, and all thy beauties dead;
From thy short nights, and noisy mirthful day,
My kindling thoughts, disdainful, turn away.
Majestic Winter with his floods appears,
And o'er the world his awful terrors rears:
From north to south his train dispreading slow,
Blue frost, bleak rain, and fleecy-footed snow.
In thee, sad Winter, I a kindred find,
Far more related to poor human kind;
To thee my gently drooping head I bend,
Thy sigh my sister, and thy tear my friend;
On thee I muse, and in thy hastening sun,
See life expiring ere 'tis well begun.
Thy sickening ray and venerable gloom
Shows life's last scene, the solitary tomb;
But thou art safe, so shaded by the bays,
Immortal in the noblest poet's praise;
From time and death he will thy beauties save;
Oh may such numbers weep o'er Mira's grave!
Secure and glorious would her ashes lie,
Till Nature fade-and all the Seasons die.
For this, the wise, the knowing few commend
With zealous joy-for thou art virtue's friend:
Even age and truth severe, in reading thee,
That Heaven inspire's the muse, convinced agree.
Thus I dare sing of merit faintly known,
Friendless-supported by itself alone:
For those whose aided will could lift thee high
In fortune, see not with discernment's eye.
Nor place nor power bestows the sight refined,
And wealth enlarges not the narrow mind.
How couldst thou think of such and write so
well?
Or hope reward by daring to excel!
Unskilful of the age! untaught to gain
Those favours which the fawning base obtain!
A thousand shameful arts to thee unknown,
Falsehood and flattery must be first thy own.
If thy loved country lingers in thy breast,
Thou must drive out the unprofitable guest;
Extinguish each bright aim that kindles there,
And centre in thyself thy every care.
But hence that vileness-pleased to charm man-
kind,
Cast each low thought of interest far behind:
Neglected into noble scorn-away
From that worn path where vulgar poets stray;
Inglorious herd! profuse of venal lays!
And by the pride despised, they stoop to praise!
Thou, careless of the statesman's smile or frown,
Tread that straight way that leads to fair renown.
ON HIS PUBLISHING THE SECOND EDITION OF HIS By virtue guided, and by glory fired,
CHARM'D and instructed by thy powerful song,
I have, unjust, withheld my thanks too long;
This debt of gratitude at length receive,
Warmly sincere, 'tis all thy friend can give.
Thy worth new lights the poet's darken'd name, And shows it, blazing, in the brightest fame. Through all thy various Winter full are found, Magnificence of thought and pomp of sound, Clear depth of sense, expression's heightening
And goodness, eminent in power and place!
And by reluctant envy slow admired,
Dare to do well, and in thy boundless mind
Embrace the general welfare of thy kind;
Enrich them with the treasures of thy thought,
What Heaven approves and what the Muse has
taught, "P
Where thy power fails, unable to go on,
Ambitious, greatly will the good undone.
So shall thy name, through ages, brightening
shine,
And distant praise from worth unborn be thine:
So shalt thou, happy! merit Heaven's regard,
And find a glorious, though a late reward.
The subject proposed. Inscribed to the Countess of Hertford. The Season is described as it affects the various parts of Nature, ascending from the lower to the higher; with digressions arising from the subject. Its influence on inanimate Matter, on Vegetables, on brute Animals, and last on Man; concluding with a dissuasive from the wild and irregular passion of Love, opposed to that of a pure and happy kind.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
THE COUNTESS OF HERTFORD.
and adorn society. To whom then could these sheets be more properly inscribed than to you, Madam, whose influence in the world can give them the protection they want, while your fine imagination, and intimate acquaintance with rural naI HAVE always observed that, in addresses of ture, will recommend them with the greatest adthis nature, the general taste of the world demands vantage to your favourable notice? Happy! if I ingenious turns of wit, and disguised artful peri- hit any of those images, and correspondent sentiods, instead of an open sincerity of sentiment flow-ments, your calm evening walks, in the most deing in a plain expression. From what secret im-lightful retirement, have oft inspired. I could add patience of the justest praise, when bestowed on too, that as this Poem grew up under your encourothers, this often proceeds, rather than a pretend-agement, it has therefore a natural claim to your ed delicacy, is beyond my purpose here to inquire. patronage. Should you read it with approbation, But as nothing is more foreign to the disposition its music shall not droop; and should it have the of a soul sincerely pleased with the contemplation good fortune to deserve your smiles, its roses shall of what is beautiful, and excellent, than wit and not wither. But, where the subject is so tempting, turn; I have too much respect for your Ladyship's lest I begin my Poem before the Dedication is endcharacter, either to touch it in that gay, trifling ed, I here break short, and beg leave to subscribe manner, or venture on a particular detail of those myself, with the highest respect, truly amiable qualities of which it is composed. A mind exalted, pure, and elegant, a heart overflowing with humanity, and the whole train of virtues thence derived, that give a pleasing spirit to conversation, an engaging simplicity to the manners, and form the life to harmony, are rather to be felt, and silently admired, than expressed. I have attempted, in the following Poem, to paint some of the most tender beauties and delicate appearances of nature; how much in vain, your Ladyship's taste will, I am afraid, but too soon discover: yet would O Hertford, fitted or to shine in courts it still be a much easier task to find expression for With unaffected grace, or walk the plain all that variety of colour, form, and fragrance, With innocence and meditation join'd which enrich the season I describe, than to speak In soft assemblage, listen to my song, the many nameless graces and native riches of a Which thy own Season paints; when Nature all mind capable so much at once to relish solitude, Is blooming and benevolent, like thee.
Your most obedient, humble servant,
JAMES THOMSON.
COME, gentle Spring! ethereal Mildness! come,
And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud,
While music wakes around, veil'd in a shower
Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend.
And see where surly Winter passes off,
Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts:
His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill,
The shatter'd forest, and the ravaged vale;
While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch,
Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost,
The mountains lift their green heads to the sky.
As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd,
And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze,
Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets
Deform the day delightless: so that scarce
The bittern knows his time, with bill'ingulf'd,
To shake the sounding marsh; or from the shore
The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath,
And sing their wild notes to the listening waste.
At last from Aries rolls the bounteous sun,
And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more
The expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold;
But, full of life and vivifying soul,
Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads them
thin,
Fleecy, and white, o'er all-surrounding heaven.
Forth fly the tepid airs: and unconfined, Unbinding earth, the moving softness strays. Joyous, the impatient husbandman perceives Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers
|The plough, and greatly independent lived.
Ye generous Britons, venerate the plough!
And o'er your hills, and long withdrawing vales,
Let Autumn spread his treasures to the sun,
Luxuriant and unbounded: as the sea,
Far through his azure turbulent domain,
Your empire owns, and from a thousand shores
Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports;
So with superior boon may your rich soil,
Exuberant, Nature's better blessings pour
O'er every land, the naked nations clothe,
And be the exhaustless granary of a world!
Nor only through the lenient air this change,
Delicious, breathes; the penetrative sun,
His force deep-darting to the dark retreat
Of vegetation, sets the streaming Power
At large, to wander o'er the verdant earth,
In various hues; but chiefly thee, gay green!
Thou smiling Nature's universal robe!
United light and shade! where the sight dwells
With growing strength, and ever-new delight.
From the moist meadow to the wither'd hill,
Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs,
And swells, and deepens, to the cherish'd eye.
The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves
Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees,
Drives from their stalls, to where the well used Till the whole leafy forest stands display'd,
Lies in the furrow, loosen'd from the frost."
There, unrefusing, to the harness'd yoke
In full luxuriance to the sighing gales;
Where the deer rustle through the twining brake,
And the birds sing conceal'd. At once array'd
In all the colours of the flushing year,
By Nature's swift and secret working hand,
The garden glows, and fills the liberal air
With lavish fragrance; while the promised fruit
Lies yet a little embryo, unperceived,
Within its crimson folds. Now from the town
They lend their shoulders, and begin their toil,
Cheer'd by the simple song and soaring lark.
Meanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share
The master leans, removes the obstructing clay,
Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the
glebe.
While through the neighbouring fields the Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps,
sower stalks,
Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields,
From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze
Of sweetbriar hedges I pursue my walk;
Or taste the smell of dairy; or ascend
Some eminence, Augusta, in thy plains,
And see the country, far diffused around,
One boundless blush, one white-empurpled shower
Of mingled blossoms; where the raptured eye
Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath
The fair profusion, yellow Autumn spies.
With measured steps, and liberal throws the grain Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling
Into the fruitful bosom of the ground;
The harrow follows harsh, and shuts the scene.
Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious Man
Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow!
Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, descend!
And temper all, thou world-reviving sun,
Into the perfect year! Nor ye who live
In luxury and case, in pomp and pride,
Think these lost themes unworthy of your ear:
Such themes as these the rural Maro sung
To wide-imperial Rome, in the full height
Of elegance and taste, by Greece refined.
If, brush'd from Russian wilds, a cutting gale
Rise not, and scatter from his humid wings
The clammy mildew; or, dry-blowing, breathe
Untimely frost; before whose baleful blast
insect-The full-blown Spring through all her foliage
shrinks,
In ancient times the sacred plough employ'd
The kings and awful fathers of mankind:
And some, with whom compared your
tribes
Are but the beings of a summer's day,
Have held the scale of empire, ruled the storm
Of mighty war; then, with unwearied hand,
Disdaining little delicacies seized
Joyless and dead, a wide-dejected waste.
For oft, engender'd by the hazy north,
Myriads on myriads, insect armies warp
Keen in the poison'd breeze; and wasteful eat,
Through buds and bark, into the blacken'd core, Beneath the umbrageous multitude of leaves.
Their eager way. A feeble race! yet oft
The sacred sons of vengeance; on whose course
Corrosive Famine waits, and kills the year.
To check this plague, the skilful farmer chaff
And blazing straw before his orchard burns;
Till, all involved in smoke, the latent foe
From every cranny suffocated falls:
Or scatters o'er the blooms the pungent dust
Of pepper, fatal to the frosty tribe:
Or, when the envenom'd leaf begins to curl,
With sprinkled water drowns them in their nest;
Nor, while they pick them up with busy bill,
The little trooping birds unwisely scares.
But who can hold the shade, while Heaven de-
scends
In universal bounty, shedding herbs,
And fruits, and flowers, on Nature's ample lap?
Swift fancy fired anticipates their growth;
And, while the milky nutriment distils,
Beholds the kindling country colour round.
Thus all day long the full-distended clouds Indulge their genial stores, and well-shower'd earth
Is deep enrich'd with vegetable life;
Till, in the western sky, the downward sun
Looks out, effulgent, from amidst the flush
Of broken clouds, gay-shifting to his beam.
The rapid radiance instantaneous strikes
Be patient, swains; these cruel seeming winds Blow not in vain. Far hence they keep repress'd Those deepening clouds on clouds, surcharged The illumined mountain, through the forest
That o'er the vast Atlantic hither borne,
In endless train, would quench the summer-blaze,
And, cheerless, drown the crude unripen'd year.
The north-east spends his rage; he now shut
up
Within his iron cave, the effusive south
Warms the wide air, and o'er the void of Heaven
Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers dis-
tent.
At first a dusky wreath they seem to rise,
Scarce staining ether; but by swift degrees,
In heaps on heaps, the doubling vapour sails
Along the loaded skies, and mingling deep
Sits on the horizon round a settled gloom:
Not such as wintry-storms on mortals shed,
Oppressing life; but lovely, gentle, kind,
And full of every hope and every joy,
Shakes on the floods, and in the yellow mist,
Far smoking o'er the interminable plain,
In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems.
Moist, bright, and green, the landscape laughs
around.
Full swell the woods; their every music wakes,
Mix'd in wild concert with the warbling brooks
Increased, the distant bleatings of the hills,
And hollow lows responsive from the vales,
Whence blending all the sweeten'd zephyr springs.
Meantime, refracted from yon eastern cloud,
Bestriding earth, the grand ethereal bow
Shoots up immense; and every hue unfolds,
In fair proportion, running from the red
To where the violet fades into the sky.
Here, awful Newton, the dissolving clouds
Form, fronting on the sun, thy showery prism;
The wish of Nature. Gradual sinks the breeze And to the sage instructed eye unfold
Into a perfect calm; that not a breath
Is heard to quiver through the closing woods,
Or rustling turn the many-twinkling leaves
Of aspin tall. Th' uncurling floods, diffused
In glassy breadth, seem through delusive lapse
Forgetful of their course. 'Tis silence all
And pleasing expectation. Herds and flocks
Drop the dry sprig, and mute-imploring eye
The falling verdure. Hush'd in short suspense,
The plumy people streak their wings with oil,
To throw the lucid moisture trickling off:
And wait the approaching sign to strike, at once,
Into the general choir. E'en mountains, vales,
And forests, seem, impatient, to demand
The promised sweetness. Man superior walks
Amid the glad creation, musing praise,
And looking lively gratitude. At last,
The clouds consign their treasures to the fields;
And, softly shaking on the dimpled pool
Prelusive drops, let all their moisture flow,
In large effusion, o'er the freshen'd world.
The stealing shower is scarce to patter heard,
By such as wander through the forest walks,
The various twine of light, by thee disclosed
From the white mingling maze. Not so the boy;
He wondering views the bright enchantment bend,
Delightful o'er the radiant fields, and runs
To catch the falling glory; but amazed
Beholds the amusive arch before him fly,
Then vanish quite away. Still night succeeds,
A softened shade, and saturated earth
Awaits the morning beam, to give to light,
Raised through ten thousand different plastic
tubes,
The balmy treasures of the former day.
Then spring the living herbs, profusely wild,
O'er all the deep green earth, beyond the power
Of botanist to number up their tribes:
Whether he steals along the lonely dale,
In silent search; or through the forest, rank
With what the dull incurious weeds account,
Bursts his blind way; or climbs the mountain
rock,
Fired by the nodding verdure of its brow.
With such a liberal hand has nature flung
Their seeds abroad blown them about in winds,
|