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Warms the wide air, and o'er the void of heaven

Breathes the big clouds with vernal showers diftent. 145
At first a dusky wreath they seem to rise,
Searce. ftaining æther; but by fwift degrees,
In heaps on heaps, the doubling vapour fails
Along the loaded sky, and mingled deep
Sits on th' horizon round a fettled gloom:
Not fuch as wintery-ftorms on mortals fhed,
Oppreffing life; but lovely, gentle, kind,
And full of every hope and every joy,

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The wifh of Nature. Gradual finks the breeze

Into a perfect calm; that not a breath

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Is heard to quiver through the clofing woods,

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Or rustling turn the many twinkling leaves
Of afpin tall. Th' uncurling floods, diffus'd
In glaffy breadth, feem through delufive lapfe
Forgetful of their courfe. "Tis filence all,
And pleafing expectation. Herds and flocks.
Drop the dry sprig, and mute-imploring eye

The falling verdure. Hush'd in fhort fufpenfe,
The plumy people ftreak their wings with oil,
To throw the lucid moisture trickling off;
And wait th' approaching fign to ftrike, at once,
Into the general choir. Ev'n mountains, vales,
And forefts feem, impatient, to demand
The promis'd sweetness. Man fuperior walks
Amid the glad creation, mufing praife,

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And looking lively gratitude. At last,

The clouds confign their treasures to the fields;

And,

And, foftly shaking on the dimpled pool
Prelufive drops, let all their moisture flow,
In large effufion, o'er the freshen'd world.
The stealing shower is fcarce to patter heard,
By fuch as wander through the foreft walks,
Beneath th' umbrageous multitude of leaves.

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But who can hold the shade, while Heaven defcends In univerfal bounty, fhedding herbs,

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And fruits and flowers, on Nature's ample lap?

Swift fancy fir'd anticipates their growth;

And, while the milky nutriment diftils,
Beholds the kindling country colour round.

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Thus all day long the full-diftended clouds

Indulge their genial ftores, and well-shower'd earth
Is deep-enrich'd with vegetable life;

Till, in the western sky, the downward fun
Looks out, effulgent, from amid the flush

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Of broken clouds, gay-fhifting to his beam.
The rapid radiance instantaneous ftrikes

Th' illumin'd mountain, through the forest streams,
Shakes on the floods, and in a yellow mift,
Far fmoking o'er th' interminable plain,
In twinkling myriads lights the dewy gems.

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Moift, bright, and green, the landıkip laughs around.
Full fwell the woods; their very mufic wakes,
Mix'd in wild concert with the warbling brooks
Increas'd, the diftant bleatings of the hills,
And hollow lows refponfive from the vales,
Whence blending all the sweeten'd zephyr fprings.
Mean time refracted from yon eastern cloud,

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Be

Beftriding earth, the grand ethereal bow
Shoots up immense; and every hue unfolds,
In fair proportion running from the red,
To where the violet fades into the sky.
Here, aweful Newton, the diffolving clouds
Forin, fronting on the fun, thy fhowery prism;
And to the fage-inftructed eye unfold

The various twine of light, by thee disclos'd

From the white mingling maze.

Not fo the boy;
He wondering views the bright enchantment bend,
Delightful, o'er, the radiant fields, and runs
To catch the falling glory; but amaz'd
Beholds th' amufive arch before him fly,

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Then vanish quite away. Still night fucceeds,

A soften'd shade, and faturated earth

Awaits the morning-beam, to give to light,

Rais'd through ten thousand different plastick tubes,
The balmy treasures of the former day.

Then spring the living herbs, profufely wild,
O'er all the deep-green earth, beyond the power
Of botanifts to number up their tribes :

Whether he steals along the lonely dale,

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In filent fearch; or through the forest, rank 225 With what the dull incurious weeds account,

Burfts his blind way; or climbs the mountain rock,

Fir'd by the nodding verdure of its brow.

With fuch a liberal hand has Nature flung

Their feeds abroad, blown them about in winds, 230 Innumerous mix'd them with the nurfing mold,

The moistening current, and prolific rain.

But

But who their virtues can declare? who pierce, With vifion pure, into thefe fecret stores,

Of health, and life, and joy? The food of man, 235
While yet he liv'd in innocence, and told

A length of golden years; unflefh'd in blood,
A ftranger to the favage arts of life,

Death, rapine, carnage, furfeit, and disease;
The lord, and not the tyrant, of the world.

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The first fresh dawn then wak'd the gladden'd race Of uncorrupted man, nor blush'd to fee The fluggard fleep beneath its facred beam : For their light flumbers gently fum'd away; And up they rose as vigorous as the fun, Or to the culture of the willing glebe, Or to the chearful tendance of the flock.

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Meantime the fong went round; and dance and sport, i Wisdom and friendly talk, fucceffive, stole

Their hours away; while in the rofy vale

Love breath'd his infant fighs, from anguifh free,

And full replete with blifs; fave the sweet pain,
That, inly thrilling, but exalts it more.

Nor yet injurious act, nor furly deed,

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Was known among those happy fons of Heaven; 255 For reafon and benevolence were law.

Harmonious Nature too look'd smiling on.

Clear fhone the skies, cool'd with eternal gales,
And balmy spirit all. The youthful fun
Shot his best rays, and still the gracious clouds
Drop'd fatnefs down; as o'er the fwelling mead,
The herds and flocks, commixing, play'd fecure.

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This when, emergent from the gloomy wood,
The glaring lion faw, his horrid heart
Was meeken'd, and he join'd his fullen joy.
For mufic held the whole in perfect peace:
Soft figh'd the flute; the tender voice was heard,
Warbling the varied heart; the woodlands round
Apply'd their quire; and winds and waters flow'd
In confonance. Such were thofe prime of days. 270
But now those white unblemish'd manners, whence
The fabling poets took their golden age,
Are found no more amid these iron times,
These dregs of life! Now the diftemper'd mind
Has loft that concord of harmonious powers,
Which forms the foul of happiness; and all
Is off the poife within: the paffions all

Have burft their bounds; and reafon, half extinct,

Or impotent, or else approving, fees

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The foul disorder. Senfelefs, and deform'd,

Convulfive anger ftorms at large; or pale,
And filent, fettles into fell revenge.

Base envy withers at another's joy,

And hates that excellence it cannot reach.
Defponding fear, of feeble fancies full,
Weak and unmanly, loofens every power.
Ev'n love itself is bitterness of foul,
A penfive anguish pining at the heart;
Or, funk to fordid intereft, feels no more
That noble with, that never-cloy'd defire,
Which, felfifh joy difdaining, feeks alone
To blefs the dearer object of its flame.

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