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13 She mounts, and, lessening to the light, Salates the blythe return of light, And high her tuneful track pursues 'Mid the dim rainbow's scattered hues. Beneath a willow long forsook, The fisher feeks his 'customed nook, And, bursting thro' the crackling sedge That crowns the current's caverned edge, He startles from the bordering wood The balhful wild-duck's early brood.



WAERE facred Ganges pours along the plain, And Indus rolls to swell the eafern main, What awful scenes the curious mind delight, What wonders burst upon the dazzled sight! There giant palms lift high their tufted heads ; The plantain wide his graceful foliage spreads; Wild in the woods the active monkey springs, The chattering parrot claps his painted wings;

Mid tall bamboos lies hid the deadly fnake, The tiger couches in the tangled brake;


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The spotted axis bounds in fear away,
The leopard darts on his defenceless prey.
'Mid reedy pools and antient forests rude,
Cool, peaceful haunts of awful folitude !
The huge rhinoceros rends the crashing boughs,
And stately elephants untroubled browse.
Two tyrant seasons rule the wide domain,
Scorch with dry heat, or drench with floods of rain:
Now feverish herds rush madding o’er the plains,
And cool in shady streams their throbbing veins,
The birds drop lifeless from the filent fpray,
And nature faints beneath the fiery day;
Then bursts the deluge on the sinking shore,
And teeming Plenty empties all her store.



''Twas dead of night, when weary bodies close

Their eyes in balmy sleep, and soft repose ;
The winds no longer whisper through the woods,
Nor murmuring tides disturb the gentle floods.
The stars in filent order moved around,
And peace with downy wings was brooding on !

the ground.


Fortitude..To Morning. 15 The flocks and herds, and particolour’d fowl, Which haunt the woods, or swim the reedy pool, Stretched on the quiet earth securely lay, Forgetting the past labours of the day.


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The bold swimmer joys not so
To feel the proud waves under him, and beat
With strong repelling arm the billowy surge;
The generous courser does not so exult
To tofs his floating mane against the wind,
And neigh amidst the thunder of the war,
As Virtue to oppose her swelling breast
Like a firm shield against the darts of Fate.


Hail to thy living light,
Ambrosial Morn! all hail thy roseat ray,
That bids young Nature all her charms display

In varied beauty bright;
That bids each dewy-spangled flowret rise,
And dart around its vermeil dyes;


C 2


Trees and Plants.

Bids silver luftre grace yon sparkling tide,
That winding warbles down the mountain's fidei


TREES AND PLANTS. Say, know'st thou why the beech delights the

glade, With boughs extended and a rounder fhade, Whilst towering firs in conic forms arise, And with a pointed spear divide the fies? Or why again the changing oak should shed The yearly honours of his stately head, Whilst the distinguished yew is ever feen Unchanged his branch, and permanent his green} Wanting the sun why does the caltha fade? . Why does the cypress Hourish in the shade ? The fig and date, why love they to remain In middle station and an even plain, . Whilst in the lower marsh the gourd is found, And while the hill with olive fhade is crowned? Why does one climate and one foil endue The blushing poppy with a crimson hue, Yet leave the lily pale and tinge the violet blue?)


Trees and Plants.


The twining jasmine and the blushing rose
With lavish grace their morning scents disclose,
The fragrant tuberose and jonquil declare
The stronger impulse of an evening air.
Whence has the tree, resolve me, or the flower,
A various instinct, or a different power ?
Why should one earth, one clime, one stream,

one breath Raise this to strength and sicken that to death? Whence does it happen that the plant, which

well We name the sensitive, should move and feel ? Whence know her leaves to answer her command, And with quick horror fly the neighbouring hand ? Along the funny bank, or watery mead, Ten thousand ftalks their various blossoms fpread. Peaceful and lowly in their native foil, They neither know to spin nor care to toil; Yet with confest magnificence deride Our vile attire, and impotence of pride.



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