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Holds multitudes. But chief the foreft-boughs,
That dance unnumber'd to the playful breeze,
The downy orchard, and the melting pulp
Of mellow fruit, the nameless nations feed
Of evanefcent infects. Where the pool
Stands mantled o'er with green, invifible,
Amid the floating verdure millions ftray.
Each liquid too, whether it pierces, fooths,
Inflames, refreshes, or exalts the taste,

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With various forms abounds. Nor is the stream

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Of pureft crystal, nor the lucid air,

Tho' one transparent vacancy it seems,

Void of their unfeen people. These, conceal'd
By the kind art of forming HEAVEN, escape
The groffer eye of Man: for, if the worlds
In worlds inclos'd should on his fenfes burst,
From cates ambrofial, and the nectar'd bowl,
He would abhorrent turn; and in dead night,
When filence fleeps o'er all, be ftun'd with noise.

LET no prefuming impious railer tax CREATIVE WISDOM, as if aught was form'd In vain, or not for admirable ends.

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Shall little haughty ignorance pronounce

His works unwife, of which the smallest part
Exceeds the narrow vifion of her mind?

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As if upon a full-proportion'd dome,

On fwelling columns heav'd, the pride of art!

A

A critic-fly, whose feeble ray scarce spreads
An inch around, with blind prefumption bold,
Should dare to tax the structure of the whole.
And lives the Man, whofe univerfal eye

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Has swept at once th' unbounded scheme of things; Mark'd their dependance fo, and firm accord,

As with unfaultering accent to conclude
That This availeth nought? Has any feen
The mighty chain of beings, leffening down
From INFINITE PERFECTION to the brink
Of dreary Nothing, defolate abyfs!

From which aftonish'd thought, recoiling, turns?
Till then alone let zealous praise ascend,
And hymns of holy wonder, to that POWER,
Whose wisdom fhines as lovely on our minds,
As on our fmiling eyes his fervant-fun.

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THICK in yon ftream of light, a thousand ways, Upward, and downward, thwarting, and convolv'd, 340 The quivering nations fport; till, tempeft-wing'd, Fierce Winter sweeps them from the face of day. Even fo luxurious men, unheeding, pafs An idle fummer-life in fortune's shine, A feafon's glitter! Thus they flutter on

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From toy to toy, from vanity to vice;
Till, blown away by death, oblivion comes
Behind, and strikes them from the book of life.

Now

Now fwarms the village o'er the jovial mead:
The ruftic youth, brown with meridian toil,
Healthful, and strong; full as the summer-rose
Blown by prevailing funs, the ruddy maid,
Half naked, fwelling on the fight, and all
Her kindled graces burning o'er her cheek.
Even stooping age is here; and infant-hands
Trail the long rake, or, with the fragrant load
O'ercharg'd, amid the kind oppreffion roll.
Wide flies the tedded grain; all in a row
Advancing broad, or wheeling round the field,
'They spread the breathing harvest to the fun,
That throws refreshful round a rural smell:
Or, as they rake the green-appearing ground,
And drive the dusky wave along the mead,
The ruffet hay-cock rifes thick behind,

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In order gay. While heard from dale to dale, 365
Waking the breeze, refounds the blended voice
Of happy labour, love, and focial glee.

OR rushing thence, in one diffufive band,
They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog
Compell'd, to where the mazy-running brook
Forms a deep pool: this bank abrupt and high,
And That fair-fpreading in a pebbled shore.
Urg'd to the giddy brink, much is the tail,
The clamour much of men, and boys, and dogs,

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Ere

Ere the foft fearful people to the flood

Commit their woolly fides. And oft the fwain,

On fome impatient feizing, hurls them in:
Embolden'd then, nor hesitating more,

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Faft, faft, they plunge amid the flashing wave,

And panting labour to the farther shore.
Repeated this, till deep the well-wash'd fleece

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Has drunk the flood, and from his lively haunt

The trout is banisfi'd by the fordid stream;

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Heavy, and dripping, to the breezy brow
Slow-move the harmlefs race: where, as they spread
Their fwelling treasures to the funny ray,
Inly difturb'd, and wondering what this wild
Outrageous tumult means, their loud complaints
The country fill; and, tofs'd from rock to rock,
Inceffant bleatings run around the hills.
At last, of fnowy white, the gather'd flocks
Are in the wattled pen innumerous prefs'd,
Head above head; and, rang'd in lufty rows
The shepherds fit, and whet the founding fhears.
The housewife waits to roll her fleecy stores,
With all her gay-dreft maids attending round.
One, chief, in gracious dignity inthron'd,
Shines o'er the reft, the paftoral queen, and rays
Her fmiles, fweet-beaming, on her shepherd-king;
While the glad circle round them yield their fouls 400
To feftive mirth, and wit that knows no gall.
Meantime, their joyous task goes on apace:

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Some

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Some mingling ftir the melted tar, and some,
Deep on the new-fhorn vagrant's heaving fide,
To ftamp his master's cypher ready stand;
Others th' unwilling wether drag along,
And, glorying in his might, the sturdy boy
Holds by the twifted horns th' indignant ram.
Behold where bound, and of its robe bereft,
By needy Man, that all-depending lord,
How meek, how patient, the mild creature lies!
What softness in its melancholy face,
What dumb complaining innocence appears!
Fear not, ye gentle tribes, 'tis not the knife
Of horrid flaughter that is o'er you wav'd;
No, 'tis the tender fwain's well-guided fhears,
Who having now, to pay his annual care,
Borrow'd your fleece, to you a cumbrous load,
Will fend you bounding to your hills again.

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A fimple scene! yet hence BRITANNIA fees 420 Her folid grandeur rife: hence she commands Th' exalted stores of every brighter clime, The treasures of the Sun without his rage: Hence, fervent all, with culture, toil, and arts, Wide glows her land: her dreadful thunder hence 425 Rides o'er the waves fublime, and now, even now, Impending hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coaft; Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world.

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