Soon as the pea pâts on the bloom,
Thou lyst the vocal vale,

An annual guest, in other lands,
Another spring to hail.

Sweet bird! thy bow'r is ever green,
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year!

O could fly, I'd fly with thee;
We'd make, with social wing,
Our annual visit o'er the globe,
Companions of the spring.-LCGAN

SECTION XIX.

Day. A pastoral in three parts.

MORNING.

Is the barn the tenant cock,

Close to Partlet perch'd on high, Briskly crows, (the shepherd's clock) Jocund that the morning's nigh. Swiftly, from the mountain's brow, Shadows, nurs'd by night retire; And the peeping sun-beam, now Paints with gold the village spire. Philomel forsakes the thorn,

Plaintive where she prates at night; And the lar to meet the morn, Soars beyond the shepherd's sight. From the low-roof"d cottage ridge,

See the chatt'ring swallow spring; Darting through the one-arch'd bridge Quick she dips her dappled wing Now the pine-tree's waving top Gently greets the morning gale ; Kidlings, now, begin to crop Daisies, on the dewy dale. From the balmy sweets, uncloy'd, (Restless till her task be done,) Now the busy bee's employ'd, Sipping dew before the sun

Trickling through the crevic'd rock, Where the limpid stream distils, Sweet refreshment waits the flock, When 'tis sun-drove from the hills. Colin's for the promis'd corn

(Ere the harvest hopes are ripe) Anxious;—whilst the huntsman's horn, Boldly sounding, drowns his pipe. Sweet-Ö sweet, the warbling throng, On the white emblossoin'd spray! Nature's universal song

Echoes to the rising day

NOON,

FERVID on the glitt'ring flood,
Now the noontide radiance glows:
Drooping o'er its infant bud,

Not a dew-drop's left the rose.
By the brook the shepherd dines,
From the fierce meridian heat,
Shelter'd by the branching pines,
Pendent o'er his grassy seat.
Now the flock forsakes the glade.
Where uncheck'd the sun-beams full,
Sure to find a pleasing shade

By the ivy'd abbey wall.

Echo, in her airy round,

O'er the river, rock, and hill,

Cannot catch a single sound,

Save the clack of yonder mull. Cattle court the zephyrs bland,

Where the streamlet wanders cool; Or with languid silence stand

Midway in the marshy pool.

But from mountain, dell, or stream,
Not a flutt'ring zephyr springs {
Fearful lest the noontide beam
Scorch its soft, its silken wings.
Not a leaf has leave to stir,

Nature's lull'd—serene—and still!
Y

Quiet e'en the shepherd's cur,
Sleeping on the heath-clad hill
Languid is the landscape round,
Till the fresh descending show'r,
Grateful to the thirsty ground,
Raises ev'ry fainting flow'r.
Now the hill-the hedge-are green,
Now the warblers' throats in tune,
Blithsome is the verdant scene,
Brighten'd by the beams of Noon.

EVENING.

O'ER the heath the heifer strays
Free (the furrow'd task is doné ;)
Now the village windows blaze,
Burnish'd by the setting sun.
Now he sets behind the hill,
Sinking from a golden sky
Can the pencil's mimic skill
Copy the refulgent dye ?
Trudging as the ploughmen go,

(To the smoking hamlet bound,)
Giant-like their shadows grow
Lengthen'd o'er the level ground
Where the rising forest spreads
Shelter for the lordly dome!
To their high-built airy beds,
See the rooks returning home!
As the fark, with vary'd tune,
Carols to the ev'ning loud;
Mark the mild resplendent moon,
Breaking through a parted cloud!
Now the hermit owlet peeps

From the barn or twisted brake;
And the blue mist slowly creeps,
Curling on the silver lake.

As the trout in speckled pride,
Playful from its bosom springs;

To the banks a ruffled tide
Verges in successive rings

Tripping through the silken grass
O'er the path-divided dale,
Mark the rose-complexion'd lass

With her well-pois'd milking pail !
Linnets with unnumber'd notes,

And the cuckoo bird with two,
Tuning sweet their mellow throats,

Bid the setting sun adieu.-CUNNINGHAM.

SECTION XX.

The order of nature.

SEE, thro' this air, this ocean, and this earth,
All matter quick, and bursting into birth.
Above, how high progressive life may go!
Around, how wide! how deep extend below:
Vast chain of being! which from God began,
Nature ethereal, human; angel, man
Beast, bird, fish, insect, what no eye can see,
No glass can reach; from infinite to thee,
From thee to nothing.-On superior pow'rs
Were we to press, inferior might on ours;
Or in the full creation leave a void,

Where, one step broken, the great scale's destroy'd
From nature's chain whatever link you strike,
Ten or ten thousandth, breaks the chain alike
And, if each system in gradation roll,
Alike essential to th' amazing whole,
The least confusion but in one, not all
That system only, but the whole must fall
Let earth, unbalanc'd from her orbit fly,
Planets and suns run lawless thro' the sky;
Let ruling angels from their spheres be hurl'd,
Being on being wreck'd, and world on world;
Heav'n's whole foundations to their centre nod,
And nature tremble to the throne of God.
All this dread ORDER break-for whom? for thee?
Vile worm! Oh madness! pride! impiety!
What if the foot, ordain'd the dust to tread,
Or hand, to toil, aspir'd to be the head?
What if the head, the eye, or ear repin'd
To serve mere engines to the ruling mind?
Just as absurd for any part to claim
To be another, in this gen'ral frame

Just as absurd, to mourn the tasks or pains,
The great directing MIND OF ALL ordains.

All are but parts of one stupendous whole,
Whose body nature is, and God the soul.
That, chang'd thro' all, and yet in all the same,
Great in the earth, as in th' ethereal frame;
Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze,
Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees;
Lives thro' all life, extends thro' all extent,
Spreads undivided, operates unspent ;
Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part,
As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart;
As full, as perfect, in vile man that mourns,
As the rapt seraph that adores and burns :
To him no high no low, no great no small;
He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all.
Cease then, nor ORDER imperfection name
Our proper bliss depends on what we blame.
Know thy own point this kind, this due degree
Of blindness, weakness, Heav'n bestows on thee.
Submit. In this or any other sphere,

Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear :
Safe in the hand of one disposing Pow'r,
Or in the natal, or the mortal hour.
All nature is but art, unknown to thee;
All chance, direction, which thou canst not see;
All discord, harmony not understood;

All partial evil, universal good;

And, spite of Pride, in erring Reason's spite,
One truth is clear,- --WHATEVER IS, IS RIGHT.--POPE

SECTION XXI.

Confidence in Divine protection.

How are thy servants blest, O Lord!
How sure is their defence!
Eternal wisdom is their guide,

Their help Omnipotence,

In foreign realms, and lands remote,
Supported by thy care,

Through burning climes I pass'd unhurt,
And breath'd in tainted air.

Thy mercy sweeten'd ev'ry soil

Made ev'ry region please;