Man in society is like a flow'r Blown in its native bed; 'tis there alone 660 His faculties, expanded in full bloom, Shine out; there only reach their proper use. But man, associated and leagued with man By regal warrant or self-join'd by bond For int'rest sake, or swarming into clans 665 Like flow'rs selected from the rest, and bound And bundled close to fill some crowded vase, 670 Hence charter'd boroughs are such publick plagues In all their private functions, once combin'd, 675 For dissolution, hurtful to the main. 680 At the sword's point, and dying the white robe Hence, too, the field of glory, as the world Misdeems it, dazzied by its bright array, 685 With all its majesty of thund'ring pomp, Enchanting musick, and immortal wreaths, Is but a school, where thoughtlessness is taught For folly, gallantry for ev'ry vice. 690 But slighted as it is, and by the great 695 But there I laid the scene. There early stray'd Had found me, or the hope of being free. No bard could please me but whose lyre was tun'd 700 705 Fatigu'd me, never weary of the pipe Of Tityrus, assembling, as he sang, The rustick throng beneath his fav'rite beech. New to my taste, his Paradise surpass'd 710 To speak its excellence. I danc'd for joy. As twice seven years, his beauties had then first Engag'd my wonder; and admiring still, 715 And still admiring, with regret suppos'd The joy half lost, because not sooner found. 720 With transports such as favour'd lovers feel, I studied, priz'd, and wish'd that I had known, I still revere thee, courtly though retir'd; 725 Though stretch'd at ease in Chertsey's silent bow'rs, Not unemploy`d; and finding rich amends For a lost world in solitude and verse. "Tis born with all: the love of Nature's works Is an ingredient in the compound man, Infus'd at the creation of the kind. And, though th' Almighty Maker has throughout 730 Discriminated each from each, by strokes 735 And all can taste them: minds that have been form'd And tutor'd with a relish more exact, 741 But none without some relish, none unmov'd. It is a flame that dies not even there, Where nothing feeds it: neither business, crowds, 745 Whatever else they smother of true worth In human bosoms, quench it or abate. The villas, with which London stands begirt, 750 The glimpse of a green pasture, how they cheer A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms 755 760 Of orange, myrtle, or the fragrant weed, The Frenchman's darling ?* are they not all proofs, And they, that never pass their brick-wall bounds, * Mignionette. To range the fields, and treat their lungs witn air, Hail, therefore, patroness of health and ease, 775 780 785 790 To the deliv'rer of an injur'd land He gives a tongue t' enlarge upon, a heart To feel, and courage to redress, her wrongs; 795 To monarchs dignity; to judges sense; To artists ingenuity and skill; To me, an unambitious mind, content In the low vale of life, that early felt A wish for ease and leisure, and ere long Found here that leisure and that ease I wish'd. 800 THE TASK. BOOK V THE WINTER MORNING WALK. ARGUMENT OF THE FIFTH BOOK. A frosty morning-The foddering of cattle-The woodman and his dog-The poultry-Whimsical effects of a frost at a waterfall -The empress of Russia's palace of ice-Amusements of monarchs-War, one of them-Wars, whence-And whence monarchy-The evils of it-English and French loyalty contrasted -The Bastile, and a prisoner there-Liberty the chief recommendation of this country-Modern patriotism questionable, and why-The perishable nature of the best human institutions -Spiritual liberty not perishable-The slavish state of man by nature-Deliver him, Deist, if you can-Grace must do it-The respective merits of patriots and martyrs stated-Their different treatment-Happy freedom of the man whom grace makes freeHis relish of the works of God-Address to the Creator. His slanting ray "TIS morning; and the sun, with ruddy orb 10 |