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The tracklefs fcenes difperfe in fluid air,

And woods, and wilds, and thorny waves appear ; A tedious road the weary wretch returns,

And, as he goes, the tranfient vision mourns.

SECTION III.

Night described.

PHILLIPS.

Now came ftill ev'ning on, and twilight gray
Had, in her fober liv'ry, all things clad.
Silence accompanied; for beasts and birds,
Those to their graffy couch, these to their nefts
Were flunk; all but the wakeful nightingale
She all night long her plaintive defcant fung.
Silence was pleas'd. Now glow'd the firmament
With living fapphires. Hefperus, that led
The ftarry hoft, rode brighteft, till the moon,
Rifing in clouded majefty, at length,
Apparent queen, unveil'd her peerless light!
And o'er the dark her filver mantle threw.

MILTON.

Night, fable power! from her ebon throne,
In raylefs majesty, now ftretches forth
Her leaden fceptre o'er a flumb'ring world.
Silence, how dead, and darknefs, how profound!
Nor eye, nor lift'ning ear, an object finds ;
Creation fleeps. 'Tis as the gen'ral pulse
Of life ftood still, and nature made a pause,
An awful paufe! prophetic of her end.

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YOUNG.

4

Grongar hill invites my fong,

Draw the landscape bright and strong;
Grongar! in whofe moffy cells,
Sweetly mufing quiet dwells;
Grongar! in whofe filent fhade,
For the modeft Mufes made,
So oft I have, the evening fill,
At the fountain of a rill,
Sat upon a flow'ry bed,

With my hand beneath my head,

While ftray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood,

Over mead and over wood,

From houfe to house, from hill to hill,
Till contemplation had her fill.

About his chequer'd fides I wind,
And leave his brooks and meads behind;
And groves and grottos, where I lay,
And viftos fhooting beams of day.
Wide and wider spreads the vale,
As circles on a smooth canal:
The mountains round, unhappy fate,
Sooner or later, of all height !

Withdraw their fummits from the skies,
And leffen as the others rise.

Still the profpect wider fpreads,
Adds a thoufand woods and meads;
Still it widens, widens ftill,
And finks the newly rifen-hill.

Now I gain the mountain's brow;

What a landscape lies below!
No clouds, no vapours intervene !
But the gay, the open scene
Does the face of nature show
In all the hues of heav'n's bow;
And, fwelling to embrace the light,
Spreads around beneath the fight.

Old caftles on the cliffs arife,
Proudly tow'ring in the skies ;
Rufhing from the woods, the fpires
Seem from hence afcending fires;
Half his beams Apollo fheds
On the yellow-mountain heads,
Gilds the fleeces of the flocks,
And glitters on the broken rocks.

Below me trees unnumber'd rife,
Beautiful in various dyes;

The gloomy pine, the poplar blue,
The yellow beach, the fable yew;
The flender fir that taper grows,

The sturdy oak with broad fpread boughs:
And, beyond the purple grove,
Haunt of virtue, peace, and love!
Gaudy as the op'ning dawn,

Lies a long and level lawn,

On which a dark hill, steep and high,
Holds and charms the wand'ring eye.
Deep are his feet in Towy's flood;
His sides are cloth'd with waving wood;
And ancient tow'rs crown his brow,
That caft an awful look below ;
Whofe ragged walls the ivy creeps,
And with her arms from falling keeps :
So both a fafety, from the wind,.
In mutual dependence, find.

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'Tis now the raven's bleak abode, 'Tis now th' apartment of the toad; And there the fox fecurely feeds, And there the pois'nous adder breeds, Conceal'd in ruins, mofs, and weeds; While, ever and anon, there falls Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls. Yet time has feen, that lifts the low, And level lays the lofty brow, Has feen this broken pile complete, Big with the vanity of state; But tranfient is the fmile of fate! A little rule, a little fway, A fun-beam in a winter's day, Is all the proud and mighty have, Between the cradle and the grave. And fee the rivers, how they run Thro' woods and meads, in shade and fun! Sometimes fwift, fometimes flow, Wave fucceeding wave they go A various journey to the deep, Like human life to final fleep. Thus is nature's vefture wrought, To inftruct our wand'ring thought;

This fhe dreffes green and gay,

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To difperfe our cares away.

Ever charming, ever new,

When will the landfcape tire the view?
The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody vallies, warm and low;
The windy fummit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the fky;

The pleafant feat, the ruin'd tower,
The naked rock, the fhady bow'r ;
The town and village, dome and farm,
Each give each a double charm,
As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm.

See on the mountain's fouthern fide,
Where the profpect opens wide,
Where the evening gilds the tide,
How clofe and small the hedges lie!
What ftreaks of meadows cross the eye!
A ftep, methinks, may pass the stream;
So little diftant dangers seem :

So we mistake the future's face,

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Ey'd through hope's deluding glass,
As yon fummits foft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,

Which to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear;
Still we tread the fame coarfe way;
The prefent's ftill a cloudy day.

O may I with my felf agree,
And never covet what I fee!
Content me with a humble fhade,
My paffions tam'd, my wifhes laid;
For while our wishes widely roll,
We banifh quiet from the foul;
'Tis thus the bufy beat the air,
And mifers gather wealth and care.
Now, e'en now, my joys run high,
As on the mountain turf I lie;
While the wanton zephyr fings,
And in the vale perfumes his wings;
While the waters murmur deep;
While the fhepherd charms his sheep;
While the birds unbounded fly,
And with mufic fill the fky;
Now, ev'n now, my joys run high.

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fkill;

Be full, ye courts! be great who will;
Search for peace with all
Open wide the lofty door,

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Seek her on the marble floor :
In vain ye fearch, fhe is not there;
In vain ye search the domes of care;
Grafs and flowers quiet treads,
On the meads and mountain-heads,
Along with pleasure clofe allied,
Ever by each other's fide;
And often by the murm'ring rill,
Hears the thrush, while all is ftill
Within the groves of Grongar Hill.

SECTION V.

Defcription of a parish poor house.

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DYER.

BEHOLD yon houfe that holds the parifh poor,
Whofe walls of mud fcarce bear the broken door;
There, where the putrid vapours flagging play,
And the dull wheel hums doleful through the day:
There children dwell who know no parent's care;
Parents, who know no children's love, dwell there;
Heart broken matrons on their joyless bed,
Forfaken wives, and mothers never wed;
Dejected widows with unheeded tears,

And crippled age with more than childhood fears;
The lame, the blind, and, far the happieft they,
The moping idiot, and the madman gay.

Here too the fick their final doom receive,

Here brought, amid the fcenes of grief, to grieve;
Where the loud groans from fome fad chamber flow,
Mix'd with the clamours of the crowd below;
Here forrowing they each kindred forrow fcan,
And the cold charities of man to man ;
Whole laws indeed for ruin'd age provide,

And strong compulfion plucks the fcrap from pride;
But ftili that ferap is bought with many a figh,

And pride embitters what it can't deny.

Say, ye opprefs'd by fome fantastic woes,
Some jarring nerve that baffles your repofe;
Who prets the downy couch, while flaves advance
With timid eye, to read the distant glance;
Who with fad prayers the weary doctor teafe
To name the namelefs ever new disease:

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