And lose them in each other, as appears
In every bud that blows? If Fancy, then,
Unequal fails beneath the pleasing task,
Ah! what shall Language do? ah! where find words
Ting'd with fo many colours, and whose power,
To life approaching, may perfume my lays
With that fine oil, those aromatic gales,
That inexhaustive flow continual round?
Yet tho' successless will the toil delight. Come then, ye Virgins and ye Youths! whose hearts Have felt the raptures of refining love; And thou, Amanda, come, pride of my fong! 480 Form'd by the Graces, Loveliness itself! Come with those downcast eyes, sedate and sweet, Those looks demure, that deeply pierce the foul, Where, with the light of thoughtful reason mix'd, Shines lively fancy and the feeling heart: Oh come! and while the rofy-footed May Steals blushing on, together let us tread The morning-dews, and gather, in their prime, Fresh-blooming flowers, to grace thy braided hair, And thy lov'd bosom, that improves their sweets.490 See where the winding vale its lavish stores
Irriguous spreads. See how the lily drinks
The latent rill, scarce oozing thro' the grafs,
Of growth luxuriant, or the humid bank
In fair profufion decks. Long let us walk
Where the breeze blows from yon' extended field
Of bloffom'd beans: Arabia cannot boast
A fuller gale of joy than, liberal, thence
Breathes thro' the sense, and takes the ravish'd foul.
Nor is the mead unworthy of thy foot,
Full of fresh verdure and unnumber'd flowers,
The negligence of Nature, wide and wild,
Where undisguis'd by mimic Art she spreads
Unbounded beauty to the roving eye.
Here their delicious task the fervent bees,
In swarming millions, tend; around, athwart,
Thro' the foft air the bufy nations fly,
Cling to the bud, and with inserted tube
Suck its pure essence, its ethereal foul;
And oft' with bolder wing they foaring dare 510 The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows, And yellow load them with the luscious spoil.
At length the finish'd garden to the view Its vistas opens, and its alleys green.
Snatch'd thro' the verdant maze the hurried eye 515
Distracted wanders; now the bowery walk
Of covert close, where scarce a speck of day
Falls on the lengthen'd gloom, protracted sweeps;
Now meets the bending sky; the river now
Dimpling along, the breezy ruffled lake,
The foreft darkening round, the glittering spire,
Th' ethereal mountain, and the distant main.
But why fo far excursive? when at hand,
Along these blushing borders bright with dew,
And in yon' mingled wilderness of flowers
Fair-handed Spring unbosoms every grace;
Throws out the snow-drop and the crocus first;
The daify, primrose, violet, darkly blue,
And polyanthus, of unnumber'd dyes;
The yellow wallflower, stain'd with iron brown, 530 And lavish stock that scents the garden round:
From the foft wing of vernal breezes shed,
Anemonies; auriculas, enrich'd
With shining meal o'er all their velvet leaves;
And full ranunculas, of glowing red.
Then comes the tulip race, where Beauty plays
Her idle freaks; from family diffus'd
To family, as flies the father-duft,
The varied colours run, and while they break
On the charm'd eye, th' exulting florift marks, 540
With fecret pride, the wonders of his hand.
No gradual bloom is wanting, from the bud,
First-born of Spring, to Summer's musky tribes:
Nor hyacinths, of pureft virgin white,
Low-bent, and blushing inward; nor jonquils, 545
Of potent fragrance; nor Narcissus fair,
As o'er the fabled fountain hanging still;
Nor broad carnations, nor gay-fpotted pinks;
Nor, shower'd from every bush, the damask-rofe.
Infinite numbers, delicacies, fimells,
With hues on hues Expression cannot paint,
The breath of Nature, and her endless bloom.
Hail, Source of Being! universal Soul
Of heaven and earth! Essential Presence, hail!
To thee I bend the knee: to Thee my thoughts
Continual climb, who with a mafter-hand
Haft the great whole into perfection touch'd.
By Thee the various vegetative tribes,
Wrapt in a filmy net, and clad with leaves,
Draw the live ether, and imbibe the dew:
By Thee dispos'd into congenial foils,
Stands each attractive plant, and fucks, and swells
The juicy tide, a twining mass of tubes.
At thy command the vernal fun awakes
The torpid fap, detruded to the root
By wintry winds, that now in fluent dance
And lively fermentation mounting, spreads
All this innumerous-colour'd scene of things.
As rifing from the vegetable world
My theme afcends, with equal wing afcend,
My panting Muse! and hark! how loud the woods
Invite you forth in all your gayest trim..
Lend me your fong, ye Nightingales! oh! pour
The mazy-running foul of Melody
Into my varied verse! while I deduce,
From the first note the hollow cuckoo fings,
The symphony of Spring, and touch a theme
Unknown to fame, The passion of the groves.
When first the foul of love is fent abroad,
Warm thro' the vital air, and on the heart
Harmonious feizes, the gay troops begin,
In gallant thought, to plume the painted wing,
And try again the long-forgotten strain,
At first faint-warbled; but no fooner grows
The soft infusion prevalent and wide,
Than, all alive, at once their joy o'erflows
In music unconfin'd. Up springs the lark,
Shrill-voic'd and loud, the messenger of Morn;
Ere yet the shadows fly he mounted sings
Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts 590
Calls up the tuneful nations. Every copse
Deep-tangled, tree irregular, and bush
Bending with dewy moisture, o'er the heads
Of the coy quiristers that lodge within,
Are prodigal of harmony. The thrush
And wood-lark, o'er the kind-contending throng
Superior heard, run thro' the sweetest length
Of notes; when listening Philomela deigns
To let them joy, and purposes, in thought
Elate, to make her night excel their day.
The blackbird whistles from the thorny brake;
The mellow bullfinch answers from the grove :
No are the linnets, o'er the flowering furze
Pour'd out profusely, filent. Join'd to thefe,
Innumerous songsters in the freshening shade
Of new-fprung leaves their modulations mix
Mellifluous: the jay, the rook, the daw,
And each harsh pipe, difcordant heard alone,
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