University of Virginia Library

But sing, O Muse! the swain, the happy swain,
Whom taste and nature leading o'er his fields,
Conduct to every rural beauty! See!
Before his footsteps winds the waving walk,
Here gently rising, there descending slow,
Thro' the tall grove, or near the water's brink,
Where flow'rs besprinkled paint the shelving bank,
And weeping willows bend to kiss the stream.
Now wand'ring o'er the lawn he roves, and now,
Beneath the hawthorn's secret shade reclines,
Where purple violets hang their bashful head,
Where yellow cowslips, and the daffodils,
Their mingled sweets, and lovely hues combine.

Here shelter'd from the north, his ripening fruits,
Display their sweet temptations from the wall,
Or from the gay espaliers; while below,
His various esculents, from glowing beds,
Give the fair promise of delicious feasts.

Then from his forming hand new scenes arise,
The fair creation of his fancy's eye.
Lo! bosom'd in the solemn shady grove,
Whose rev'rend branches wave on yonder hill,
He views the moss-grown temple's ruin'd tow'r,
Cover'd with creeping ivy's cluster'd leaves;
The mansion seeming of some rural god,
Whom nature's choristers, in untaught hymns,
Of wild yet sweetest harmony, adore.
From the bold brow of that aspiring steep,
Where hang the nibbling flocks, and view below
Their downward shadows in the glossy wave,
What pleasing landscapes spread before his eye!
Of scatter'd villages, and winding streams,
And meadows green, and woods, and distant spires,
Seeming, above the blue horizon's bound,
To prop the canopy of heaven, now lost,
Amidst a blooming wilderness of shrubs;
The golden orange, arbute ever green,
The early blooming almond, the strait pine,
And gelder-rose, to spring, to autumn dear,
And the sweet shades of varying verdure, caught,
From soft Acacia's gently-waving branch.
Heedless he wanders, while the grateful scents,
Of sweet-briar, roses, honeysuckles wild,
Regale the smell; and to th' enchanted eye,
Mezereon's purple, laurustinus' white,
And pale laburnum's pendant flow'rs, display
Their diff'rent beauties, o'er the smooth shorn grass,
His lingering footsteps leisurely proceed,
In meditation deep: when, hark! the sound,
Of distant water steals upon his ear!
And sudden opens to his pausing eye,
The rapid rough cascade, from the rude rock,
Down dashing in a stream of lucid foam:
Then glides away, meand'ring o'er the lawn
A liquid surface; shining seen afar,
At intervals, beneath the shadowy trees,
Till lost and bury'd in the distant grove.

Wrapt into sacred musing he reclines,
Beneath the covert of embow'ring shades;
And painting to his mind the bustling scenes,
Of pride and bold ambition, pities kings.