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Have chang❜d the woods, in scarlet honours bright.
O'er these, but far beyond (a spacious map
Of hill and valley interpos'd between),
The Ouse, dividing the well-water'd land,
Now glitters in the sun, and now retires,
As bashful, yet impatient to be seen.

Hence the declivity is sharp and short, And such the reascent: between them weeps A little naiad her impov'rish'd urn

All summer long, which winter fills again.

The folded gates would bar my progress now, 330 But that the lord of this enclos'd demesne,

Communicative of the good he owns,

Admits me to a share; the guiltless eye

Commits no wrong, nor wastes what it enjoys. Refreshing change! where now the blazing sun? By short transition we have lost his glare,

See the foregoing note.

And stepp'd at once into a cooler clime.
Ye fallen avenues! once more I mourn
Your fate unmerited, once more rejoice,
That yet a remnant of your race survives.
How airy and how light the graceful arch,
Yet awful as the consecrated roof

Reechoing pious anthems! while beneath

340

The checker'd earth seems restless as a flood Brush'd by the wind. So sportive is the light Shot through the boughs, it dances as they dance, Shadow and sunshine intermingling quick,

And dark'ning and enlight'ning, as the leaves

Play wanton, ev'ry moment, ev'ry spot.

And now, with nerves new-brac'd and spirits

cheer'd,

350

We tread the wilderness, whose well-roll'd walks,

With curvature of slow and easy sweep

Deception innocent-give ample space

To narrow bounds. The grove receives us next;

Between the upright shafts of whose tall elms
We may discern the thresher at his task.
Thump after thump resounds the constant flail,
That seems to swing uncertain, and yet falls
Full on the destin'd ear. Wide flies the chaff,
The rustling straw sends up a frequent mist
Of atoms, sparkling in the noonday beam.
Come hither, ye that press your beds of down,
And sleep not; see him sweating o'er his bread,
Before he eats it.-Tis the primal curse,

But soften'd into mercy; made the pledge
Of cheerful days, and nights without a groan.

By ceaseless action all that is subsists.
Constant rotation of th' unwearied wheel,

That Nature rides upon, maintains her health,
Her beauty, her fertility. She dreads

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370

An instant's pause, and lives but while she moves.

It's own revolvency upholds the World.

Winds from all quarters agitate the air,

And fit the limpid element for use,

Else noxious: oceans, rivers, lakes, and streams, All feel the fresh'ning impulse, and are cleans'd

By restless undulation: e'en the oak

Thrives by the rude concussion of the storm:
He seems indeed indignant, and to feel
Th'impression of the blast with proud disdain, 380
Frowning, as if in his unconscious arm

He held the thunder: but the monarch owes

His firm stability to what he scorns,

More fix'd below, the more disturb'd above. The law, by which all creatures else are bound, Binds man, the lord of all. Himself derives No mean advantage from a kindred cause, From strenuous toil his hours of sweetest ease, The sedentary stretch their lazy length

When Custom bids, but no refreshment find, 390 For none they need: the languid eye, the cheek Deserted of it's bloom, the flaccid, shrunk,

And wither'd muscle, and the vapid soul,

Reproach their owner with that love of rest,
To which he forfeits e'en the rest he loves.
Not such the alert and active. Measure life
By it's true worth, the comforts it affords,
And theirs alone seems worthy of the name.
Good health, and, it's associate in the most,
Good temper; spirits prompt to undertake,
And not soon spent, though in an arduous task;
The pow'rs of fancy and strong thought are theirs;
Ev'n age itself seems privileg'd in them

400

With clear exemption from it's own defects.
A sparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front
The vet'ran shows, and, gracing a gray beard
With youthful smiles, descends toward the grave
Sprightly, and old almost without decay.

Like a coy maiden, Ease, when courted most,

Farthest retires-an idol, at whose shrine

Who oft'nest sacrifice are favour'd least.

The love of Nature, and the scenes she draws,

410