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But winter lingering chills the lap of May;
No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast,
But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.
Yet still, even here, content can spread a charm,
Redress the clime, and all its rage disarm.
Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small,
He sees his little lot the lot of all;
Sees no contiguous palace rear its head,
To shame the meanness of his humble shed ;
No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal,
To make him loathe his vegetable meal;
But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,
Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil.
Cheerful, at morn, he wakes from sweet repose,
Breathes the keen air, and carols as he goes ;
With patient angle trolls the finny deep,
Or drives his venturous ploughshare to the steep;
Or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way,
And drags the struggling savage into day.
At night returning, every labor sped,
He sits him down the monarch of a shed;
Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys
His children's looks that brighten at the blaze ;
While his loved partner, boastful of her hoard,
Displays her cleanly platter on the board :
And haply too some pilgrim, thither led,
With many a tale repays the nightly bed.
Thus every good his native wilds impart,
Imprints the patriot passion on his heart;
And even those hills, that round his mansion rise,
Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies :
Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms,
And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms;
And as a child, when scaring sounds molest,
Clings close and closer to the mother's breast,
So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more.
Such are the charms to barren states assigned :
Their wants but few, their wishes all confined:
Yet let them only share the praises due,
If few their wants, their pleasures are but few;
every want that stimulates the breast, Becomes a source of pleasure when redrest.
And now pale glimmering in the verge
From east to north, in doubtful twilight seen,
A whitening lustre shoots its tender beam,
While shade and silence yet involve the ball;
Now sacred morn, ascending, smiles serene,
A dewy radiance, brightening o'er the world;
Gay daughter of the Air, for ever young,
For ever pleasing, lo! she onward comes,
In fluid gold and azure loose-arrayed,
Sun-tinctured, changeful hues: at her approach,
The western gray of yonder breaking clouds,
Slow redden into flame; the rising mists,
From off the mountain's brow, roll blue away
In curling spires, and open all the woods,
High waving in the sky; the uncolored stream
Beneath her glowing ray translucent shines :
Glad Nature feels her through her boundless realm
Of life and sense, and calls forth all her sweets,
Fragrance and song; from each unfolding flower
Transpires the balm of life that Zephyr wafts,
Delicious, on his rosy wing ; each bird,
Or high in air or secret in the shade,
Rejoicing, warbles wild his matın hymn;
While beasts of chase, by secret instinct moved,
Scud o'er the lawns, and, plunging into night,
In brake or cavern slumber out the day.
Invited by the cheerful Morn abroad,
See, from his humble roof the good man comes
To taste her freshness, and improve her rise
In holy musings: rapture in his eye,
And kneeling wonder speak his silent soul
With gratitude o'erflowing, and with praise.
Now Industry is up: the village pours
Her useful sons abroad to various toil ;
The laborer here with every instrument
Of future plenty armed; and there the swain,
A rural king amid his subject flocks,
Whose bleatings wake the vocal hills afar.
The traveller, too, pursues his early road,
Among the dews of morn. Aurora calls,
And all the living landscape moves around.
But see, the flushed horizon flames intense
With vivid red, in rich profusion streamed
O’er Heaven's pure arch. At once the clouds assume
Their gayest liveries; these with silvery beams
Fringed lovely, splendid those in liquid gold,
And speak their sovereign’s state. He comes; behold!
Fountain of light and color, warmth and life !
The king of Glory!-- round his head divine,
Diffusive showers of radiance circling flow,
As o'er the Indian wave up rising fair,
He looks abroad on Nature; and invests,
Where'er his universal eye surveys,
Her ample bosom, earth, air, sea, and sky,
In one bright robe with heavenly tinctures gay.
From this hoar hill, that climbs above the plain, Half way up heaven, ambitious, brown with woods Of broadest shade, and terraced round with walks Winding and wild, that deep embowering rise, Maze above maze, through all its sheltered height;: 60 From thence the aerial concave without cloud, Translucent, and in purest azure dressed; The boundless scene beneath, hill, dale, and plain ; The precipice abrupt; the distant deep, Whose shores remurmur to the sounding surge;
65 The nearest forest in wide circuit spread, Solemn recess ! whose solitary walks Fair Truth and Wisdom love; the bordering lawn, With flocks and herds enriched; the daisied vale; The river's crystal, and the meadow's green –
70 Grateful diversity ! - allure the eye Abroad, to rove amid ten thousand charms.
These scenes, where every Virtue, every Muse,
Delighted range, serene the soul, and lift,
Borne on Devotion's wing, beyond the pole,
To highest Heaven, her thought, — to Nature's God,
First source of all things lovely, all things good,
Eternal, Infinite ! before whose throne
Sits Sovereign Bounty, and through heaven and earth
Ceaseless diffuses plenitude of bliss.
80 Him all things own; he speaks, and it is day: Obedient to his nod alternate night Obscures the world: the seasons at his call, Succeed in train, and lead the year around.
While reason thus, and rapture fill the heart, 85 Friends of mankind, good angels, hovering near, Their holy influence, deep infusing, lend; And in still whispers, soft as Zephyr's breath, When scarce the green leaf trembles, through her powers Inspire new vigor, purer light supply,
And kindle every virtue into flame.
Celestial intercoursel superior bliss,
Which vice ne'er knew! health of the enlivened soul,
And heaven on earth begun !
Trust in God.-WORDSWORTH.
How beautiful this dome of sky!
And the vast hills, in fluctuation fixed
At thy command, how awfull Shall the soul,
Human and rational, report of Thee
Even less than these? Be mute who will, who can,
Yet I will praise Thee with impassioned voice:
My lips that may forget Thee in the crowd,
Cannot forget Thee here, where thou hast built,
For thy own glory in the wilderness.
Me didst Thou constitute a priest of thine,
In such a temple as we now behold
Reared for Thy presence; therefore am I bound
To worship here and everywhere - as one
Not doomed to ignorance, though forced to tread,
From unreflecting ignorance preserved,
And from debasement rescued. By Thy grace
The particle divine remained unquenched ;
And, mid the wild weeds of a rugged soil,
Thy bounty caused to flourish deathless flowers,
From Paradise transplanted. Wintry age
Impends; the frost will gather round my heart;
And if they wither, I am worse than dead.