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XIII. From labour health, from health contentment springs Contentment opes

the source of every joy. He envied not, he never thought of kings ; Nor from these appetites fustain's annoy, Which chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy; Nor Fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled ; He mourn'd no recreant friend, nor mistress coy,

For on his vows the blameless Phæbe smild, And her alone he loved, and loved her from a child.

Where peace

No jealousy their dawn of love oʻercast,
Nor blafted were their wedded days with strife ;
Each season look'd delightful as it past,
To the fond husband, and the faithful wife.
Beyond the lowly vale of shepherd life
They never roam'd ; secure beneath the storm
Which in Ambition's lofty land is rife,

and love are canker'd by the worm Of pride, each bud of joy industrious deform.

The wight whose tale these artless lines unfold,
Was all the offspring of this simple pair.
His birth no oracle or seer foretold :
No prodigy appear’d in earth or air,
Nor aught that might a strange event declare.
You guess cach circumstance of Edwin's birth ;
The parent's transport, and the parent's care ;

The Gossip's prayer for wealth, and wit, and worth And one long summer-day of indolence and mirth.

And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy ;
Deep thought oft feem'd to fix his infant eye.
Dainties he heeded not, nor gaude, nor toy,
Save one short pipe of rudelt minstrelsy.
Silent when glad; affectionate, though fhy;
And now his look was most demurely fad,

And now he laugh'd aloud, yet none knew why.

The neighbours ftar'd and figh’d, yet blelt the lad: Some deem'd him wond'rous wife, and some believ'd him mad.

But why should I his childish feats display?
Concourse and noise, and toil he ever fled ;
Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray
Of squabbling imps, but to the forest sped,
Or, roam'd at large the lonely mountain's head;
Or, where the maze of some bewilder'd ttream
To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led,

There would he wander wild, 'till Phæbus beám,
Shot from the western cliff, released the weary team.

Th'exploit of strength, dexterity, or speed,
To him nor vanity nor joy could bring.
His heart, from cruel sport enstranged, would bleed

To work the woe of any living thing,
By trap, by net, by arrow, or by sing ;
These he detested, those he scorn'd to wield :
He wish'd to be the guardian, not the king,

Tyrant far less, or traitor of the field,
And sure the sylvan reign unbloody joy might yield.

Lo? where the stripling, wrapt in wonder, roves
Beneath the precipice o'erhung with pine ;
And fees, on high, amidst th' encircling groves
From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine :
While waters, woods, and winds in concert join,
And Echo swells the chorus to the skies.
Would Edwin this majoitie scene refign

For aught the huntsmen's puny.craft supplies ?
Ah! no: he better knows great Nature's charms to prize.

And oft he traced the uplands, to survey,
When o'er the sky adranced the kindling dawn,

The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain grey,
And lake, dim-gleaming on the smoky lawn;
Far to the west, the long long, vale withdrawn,
Where twilight loves to linger for a while ;
And now he faintly kens the bounding fawn,
And villager abroad at early toil.-

(smile. But, lo! the sun appears! and heaven, earth, ocean

XXI. And oft the craggy cliff he lov'd to climb, When all in mist the world below was loit. When dreadful pleasure ! there to stand sublime, Like thipwreck'd mariner on defart coast, And view th' enormous waste of vapour, tost In billows, lengthening to the horizon round, Now scoop'd in gulfs, with mountains now embofs'd!

And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound, Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound !

In truth he was a strange and wayward wight,
Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene,
In darkness, and in storm, he found delight:
Nor less, than when an ocean-wave ferebe
The southern sun diffused his dazzling shene.
Even fad vicissitude amufed his soul;
And if a sigh would sometimes intervene,

And down his cheek a tear of pity roll,
A ligh, a tear, so sweet, he wish'd not to controul.


groves, O where is now your bloom!” (The Muse interprets thus his tender thought.)

Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom,

Of late so grateful in the hour of drought! is

Why do the birds, that song and rapture brought • To all your bowers, their mansions now forfake? * Ah! why has fickle chance this ruin wronght;

• For now the storm howls mournful through the brake, ** And, the dead foliage flies in many a shapeless flake.

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XXIV. "Where now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool, • Andmeads, with life, and mirili, and beauty crown'd! • Ah! see th’unfightly slime, and luggish pool, • Have all the folitary vale embrown'd; - Fied each fair forin, and mute each melting found, - The raven croaks forlorn on naked spray : · And, hark! the river, buriting every mound, · Dow" the vale thunders; and with wasteful sway, Uproots the grove, and roils the shatter'd rocks away.

XXV. •Yet such the deliny of all on earth : • So flourishes and fides majestic mail.

Fair is the bud his vernal inorn brings forth, " And folering gales a while the nurling fan. • O finile, ye licavens, serene ; ye mildews wan, • Ye blighting whirlwinds, fpare his balmy prime, • Nor lessen of his life the little span. • Born on the fift, though filent, wings of Time, Old-age comes 0,2 a pace to ravage all the clime.

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XXVI. . And be it fr. Let these deplore their doom, • Whose hopes still grovels in this dark fojourn. • But lofty louis who look beyond the tomb, . Can fmile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn. • Shail spring to these fad scenes no more return? • Is yonder wave the fun's eternal bed :

Soon all the orient with new lustre burn, • And spring mall foon her vital influence hed, * Again attune, the grove, again adorn the mead.

XXVII. Shall I be left abandon'd in the dust, • When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive ? • Shall nature's voice, to man alone unjust, • Bid him, though doom'd to perill. hope to live? .. Is it for this fair Virtue oft mult strive . With disappointment, penury, and pain ?-

** No: Heaven's immortal spring shall yet arrive";

• And man's majestic beauty bloom again, • Bright through th' eternal year of Love's triumphant reign.

XXVIII. This truth sublime his simple fire had taught, In footh, 't was all the shepherd knew, No subtle or fuperfluons lore he fought, Nor ever wilh'd his Edwin to pursue. • Let man's own sphere, (quoth he) confine his view, · Be man's peculiar work his fole delight.' And much, and oft, he warnd him, to eschew

Falsehood and guile, and aye maintain the right, By pleasure unseduced, unawed by lawless might..

XXIX. • And, from the prayer of Want, and plaint of Wog O never, never turn away thine ear,

Forlorn in this bleak wilderness below, • Ah! what were men, hould Heaven refuse to hear! • To others do (the law is not fevere) • What to thyself thou wilheft to be done. * Forgive thy foes; and love thy parents dear,

• And friends, and native land ; nor those alone :; • All human weal and wo learn thou to make thine own.

XXX. See in the rear of the warm sunny shower, The visionary boy from shelter fly! For now the form of fummer rain is o'er, Ard cool, and fresh, and fragrant is the sky ! And, lo! in the dark east, expanded high, The rainbow brightens to the setting fun; Fond fool, that deem'lt the streaming glory nigh,

How vain the chace thine ardour has begun ! 'Tio fled afar, ere half thy purposed race be run.

XXXT. Yet could'st thou learn, that thus it fares with age, When pleasure, wealth, or power, the bosom warm,

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