AND fee where furly WINTER paffes off,
Far to the North, and calls his ruffian Blasts
His Blafts obey, and quit the howling Hill,
The shatter'd Foreft, and the ravag'd Vale:
While fofter Gales fucceed, at whofe kind Tauch,
Diffolving Snows in fudden Torrents loft,
The Mountains lift their green Heads to the Sky.
As yet the trembling Year is unconfirm'd,
And Winter oft at Eve refumes 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 ingulpht
To shake the founding Marfh; or from the Shore
The Plovers theirs, to scatter o'er the Heath,
And fing their wild Notes to the listening Waste:
AT laft from Arieš rolls the bounteous Sun, And the bright Bull receives Him. Then no more Th' expanfive Atmosphere is cramp'd with Cold, But full of Life, and vivifying Soul,
Lifts the light Clouds fublime, and fpreads them thin, Fleecy, and white, o'er All-furrounding Heaven.
FORTH fly the tepid Airs; and unconfin'd,
Unbinding Earth, the moving Softhefs ftrays.
Joyous th' impatient Husbandman perceives
Relenting Nature, and his lufty Steers
Drives from their Stalls, to where the well-us'd Plow
Lies in the Furrow loofen'd from the Froft.
There, unrefufing to the harness'd yoke,
They lend their Shoulder, and begin their Toil,
Chear'd by the fimple Song, and foaring Lark.
Mean-while incumbent o'er the shining Share
The Mafter leans, removes th' obftructing Clay,
Winds the whole Work, and fide-long lays the Glebe.
WHITE thro' the neighb'ring Fields the Sower
With measur'd Step, and lib'ral throws the Grain
Into the faithful Bofom of the Earth.
The Harrow follows harfh, and fhuts the Scene.
Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious Man Has done his Due. Ye foftering Breezes blow! Ye softening Dews, ye tender Showers descend!
And temper all, thou influential Sun,
Into the perfect Year! Ncr, Ye who live.
In Luxury and Ease, in Pomp and Pride,
Think these loft Themes unworthy of your Ear,
'Twas fuch as these the Rural Maro fung
To the full Roman Court, in all it's Height
Of Elegance and Tafte. The facred Plow
Employ'd the Kings and Fathers of Mankind,
In ancient Times. And Some, with whom compar'd
You're but the Beings of a Summer's Day,
Have held the Scale of Juftice, fhook the Launce
Of mighty War, then with defcending Hand,
Unus'd to little Delicacies, feiz'd
The Plow, and greatly independent liv'd.
YE generous Britons cultivate the Plow!
And o'er your Hills, and long with-drawing Vales,
Let Autumn spread his Treafures to the Sun,
Luxuriant, and unbounded. As the Sea,"
Far thro' his azure, turbulent Extent,
Your Empire owns, and from a thousand Shores
Wafts all the Pomp of Life into your Ports,
So with fuperior Boon may your rich Soil,
Exuberant, Nature's better Bleffings pour
O'er every Land; the naked Nations cloath,
And be th' exhauftlefs Granary of the World.
NOR thro' the lenient Air alone, this Change
Delicious breathes; the penetrative Sun,
His force deep-darting to the dark Retreat
Of Vegetation, fets the ftreaming Power
At large, to wander o'er the verdant Earth
In various Hues, but chiefly Thee, gay Green!
Thou fmiling Nature's univerfal Robe!
United Light and Shade! where the Sight dwells
With growing Strength, and ever-new Delight!
FROM the moift Meadow to the brown-brow'd
Led by the Breeze, the vivid Verdure runs,
And fwells, and deepens to the cherish'd Eye.
The Hawthorn whitens; and the juicy Groves
Put forth their Buds, unfolding by Degrees,
Till the whole leafy Forest stands display'd
În full Luxuriance, to the fighing Gales,
While the Deer ruftle thro' the twining Brake,
And the Birds fing conceal'd. At once array'd
In all the Colours of the flufhing Year,
By Nature's fwift and secret-working Hand,
The Garden glows, and fills the liberal Air
With lavish Fragrance; while the promis'd Fruit
Lies yet a little Embrio, unperceiv'd,
Within it's Crimson Folds. Now from the Town
Buried in Smoak, and Sleep, and noisome Damps,
Oft let me wander o'er the dewy Fields,
Where Freshness breathes, and dash the lucid Drops
From the bent Bush, as thro' the fuming Maze
Of Sweet-Briar Hedges I purfue my Walk:
Or tafte the Smell of Dairy; or afcend
Some Eminence, Augufta, in thy Plains,
And fee the Country far-diffus'd around
One boundless Blush, one fnow-empurpled Shower
Of mingled Bloffoms; where the raptur'd Eye
Travels from Joy to Joy, and, hid beneath
The fair Profufion, yellow Autumn spies.
IF brush'd from Ruffian Wilds a cutting Gale
Rife not, and scatter from his foggy Wings
The bitter Mildew, or dry blowing breathe
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