| Ye green-rob’d Dryads, oft’ at dusky Eve | ||
| By wondering Shepherds seen, to Forests brown, | ||
| To unfrequented Meads, and pathless Wilds, | ||
| Lead me from Gardens deckt with Art’s vain Pomps. | ||
| 5 | Can gilt Alcoves, can Marble-mimic Gods, | |
| Parterres embroider’d, Obelisks, and Urns | ||
| Of high Relief; can the long, spreading Lake, | ||
| Or Vista lessening to the Sight; can Stow | ||
| With all her Attic Fanes, such Raptures raise, | ||
| 10 | As the Thrush-haunted Copse, where lightly leaps | |
| The fearful Fawn the rustling Leaves along, | ||
| And the brisk Squirrel sports from Bough to Bough, | ||
| While from an hollow Oak the busy Bees | ||
| Hum drowsy Lullabies? The Bards of old, | ||
| 15 | Fair Nature’s Friends, sought such Retreats, to charm | |
| Sweet Echo with their Songs; oft’ too they met, | ||
| In Summer Evenings, near sequester’d Bow’rs, | ||
| Or Mountain-Nymph, or Muse, and eager learnt | ||
| The moral Strains she taught to mend Mankind. | ||
| 20 | As to a secret Grot Ægeria stole | |
| With Patriot Numa, and in silent Night | ||
| Whisper’d him sacred Laws, he list’ning sat | ||
| Rapt with her virtuous Voice, old Tyber leant | ||
| Attentive on his Urn, and husht his Waves. | ||
| 25 | Rich in her weeping Country’s Spoils Versailles | |
| May boast a thousand Fountains, that can cast | ||
| The tortur’d Waters to the distant Heav’ns; | ||
| Yet let me choose some Pine-topt Precipice | ||
| Abrupt and shaggy, whence a foamy Stream, | ||
| 30 | Like Anio, tumbling roars; or some bleak Heath, | |
| Where straggling stand the mournful Juniper, | ||
| Or Yew-tree scath’d; while in clear Prospect round, | ||
| From the Grove’s Bosom Spires emerge, and Smoak | ||
| In bluish Wreaths ascends, ripe Harvests wave, | ||
| 35 | Herds low, and Straw-rooft Cotts appear, and Streams | |
| Beneath the Sun-beams twinkle — The shrill Lark, | ||
| That wakes the Wood-man to his early Task, | ||
| Or love-sick Philomel, whose luscious Lays | ||
| Sooth lone Night-wanderers, the moaning Dove | ||
| 40 | Pitied by listening Milkmaid, far excell | |
| The deep-mouth’d Viol, the Soul-lulling Lute, | ||
| And Battle-breathing Trumpet. Artful Sounds! | ||
| That please not like the Choristers of Air, | ||
| When first they hail th’Approach of laughing May. | ||
| 45 | Creative Titian, can thy vivid Strokes, | |
| Or thine, O graceful Raphael, dare to vie | ||
| With the rich Tints that paint the breathing Mead? | ||
| The thousand-colour’d Tulip, Violet’s Bell | ||
| Snow-clad and meek, the Vermil-tinctur’d Rose, | ||
| 50 | And golden Crocus? — Yet with these the Maid, | |
| Phillis or Phoebe, at a Feast or Wake, | ||
| Her jetty Locks enamels; fairer she, | ||
| In Innocence and home-spun Vestments drest, | ||
| Than if coerulean Sapphires at her Ears | ||
| 55 | Shone pendant, or a precious Diamond-Cross | |
| Heav’d gently on her panting Bosom white. | ||
| Yon’ Shepherd idly stretcht on the rude Rock, | ||
| Listening to dashing Waves, and Sea-Mews Clang | ||
| High-hovering o’er his Head, who views beneath | ||
| 60 | The Dolphin dancing o’er the level Brine, | |
| Feels more true Bliss than the proud Ammiral, | ||
| Amid his Vessels bright with burnish’d Gold | ||
| And silken Streamers, tho’ his lordly Nod | ||
| Ten thousand War-worn Mariners revere. | ||
| 65 | And great Æneas gaz’d with more Delight | |
| On the rough Mountain shagg’d with horrid Shades, | ||
| (Where Cloud-compelling Jove, as Fancy dream’d, | ||
| Descending shook his direful Ægis black) | ||
| Than if he enter’d the high Capitol | ||
| 70 | On golden Columns rear’d, a conquer’d World | |
| Contributing to deck its stately Head: | ||
| More pleas’d he slept in poor Evander’s Cott | ||
| On shaggy Skins, lull’d by sweet Nightingales, | ||
| Than if a Nero, in an Age refin’d, | ||
| 75 | Beneath a gorgeous Canopy had plac’d | |
| His royal Guest, and bade his Minstrels sound | ||
| Soft slumb’rous Lydian Airs to sooth his Rest. | ||
| Happy the first of Men, ere yet confin’d | ||
| To smoaky Cities; who in sheltering Groves, | ||
| 80 | Warm Caves, and deep-sunk Vallies liv’d and lov’d, | |
| By Cares unwounded; what the Sun and Showers, | ||
| And genial Earth untillag’d could produce, | ||
| They gather’d grateful, or the Acorn brown, | ||
| Or blushing Berry; by the liquid Lapse | ||
| 85 | Of murm’ring Waters call’d to slake their Thirst, | |
| Or with fair Nymphs their Sun-brown Limbs to bathe; | ||
| With Nymphs who fondly clasp’d their fav’rite Youths, | ||
| Unaw’d by Shame, beneath the Beechen Shade, | ||
| Nor Wiles, nor artificial Coyness knew. | ||
| 90 | Then Doors and Walls were not; the melting Maid | |
| Nor Frowns of Parents fear’d, nor Husband’s Threats; | ||
| Nor had curs’d Gold their tender Hearts allur’d; | ||
| Then Beauty was not venal. Injur’d Love, | ||
| O whither, God of Raptures, art thou fled? | ||
| 95 | While Avarice waves his golden Wand around, | |
| Abhorr’d Magician, and his costly Cup | ||
| Prepares with baneful Drugs, t’enchant the Souls | ||
| Of each low-thoughted Fair to wed for Gain. | ||
| What tho’ unknown to those primæval Sires, | ||
| 100 | The well-arch’d Dome, peopled with breathing Forms | |
| By fair Italia’s skilful Hand, unknown | ||
| The shapely Column, and the crumbling Busts | ||
| Of awful Ancestors in long Descent? | ||
| Yet why should Man mistaken deem it nobler | ||
| 105 | To dwell in Palaces, and high-rooft Halls, | |
| Than in God’s Forests, Architect supreme! | ||
| Say, is the Persian Carpet, than the Field’s | ||
| Or Meadow’s Mantle gay, more richly wov’n’; | ||
| Or softer to the Votaries of Ease, | ||
| 110 | Than bladed Grass, perfum’d with dew-dropt Flow’rs? | |
| O Taste corrupt! that Luxury and Pomp | ||
| In specious Names of polish’d Manners veil’d, | ||
| Should proudly banish Nature’s simple Charms. | ||
| Tho’ the fierce North oft smote with Iron Whip | ||
| 115 | Their shiv’ring Limbs, tho’ oft the bristly Boar | |
| Or hungry Lion ’woke them with their Howls, | ||
| And scar’d them from their Moss-grown Caves to rove, | ||
| Houseless and cold in dark, tempestuous Nights; | ||
| Yet were not Myriads in embattled Fields | ||
| 120 | Swept off at once, nor had the raving Seas | |
| O’erwhelm’d the foundering Bark, and helpless Crew; | ||
| In vain the glassy Ocean smil’d to tempt | ||
| The jolly Sailor, unsuspecting Harm, | ||
| For Commerce was unknown. Then Want and Pine | ||
| 125 | Sunk to the Grave their fainting Limbs; but Us | |
| Excess and endless Riot doom to die. | ||
| They cropt unweetingly, the poisonous Herb | ||
| But wiser we spontaneously provide | ||
| Rare powerful Roots, to quench Life’s chearful Lamp. | ||
| 130 | What are the Lays of artful Addison, | |
| Coldly correct, to Shakespear’s Warblings wild? | ||
| Whom on the winding Avon’s willow’d Banks | ||
| Fair Fancy found, and bore the smiling Babe | ||
| To a close Cavern: (still the Shepherds shew | ||
| 135 | The sacred Place, whence with religious Awe | |
| They hear, returning from the Field at Eve, | ||
| Strange Whisperings of sweet Music thro’ the Air) | ||
| Here, as with Honey gather’d from the Rock, | ||
| She fed the little Prattler, and with Songs | ||
| 140 | Oft’ sooth’d his wondering Ears, with deep Delight | |
| On her soft Lap he sat, and caught the Sounds. | ||
| Oft’ near some crowded City would I walk, | ||
| Listening the far-off Noises, rattling Carrs, | ||
| Loud Shouts of Joy, sad Shrieks of Sorrow, Knells | ||
| 145 | Full slowly tolling, Instruments of Trade, | |
| Striking mine Ears with one deep-swelling Hum. | ||
| Or wandering near the Sea, attend the Sounds | ||
| Of hollow Winds, and ever-beating Waves. | ||
| Ev’n when wild Tempests swallow up the Plains, | ||
| 150 | And Boreas’ Blasts, big Hail, and Rains combine | |
| To shake the Groves and Mountains, would I sit, | ||
| Pensively musing on th’outragious Crimes | ||
| That wake Heav’n’s Vengeance: at such solemn Hours, | ||
| Dæmons and Goblins thro’ the dark Air shriek, | ||
| 155 | While Hecat with her black-brow’d Sisters nine, | |
| Rides o’er the Earth, and scatters Woes and Deaths. | ||
| Then too, they say, in drear Ægyptian Wilds | ||
| The Lion and the Tiger prowl for Prey | ||
| With Roarings loud! the list’ning Traveller | ||
| 160 | Starts Fear-struck, while the hollow-echoing Vaults | |
| Of Pyramids encrease the deathful Sounds. | ||
| But let me never fail in cloudless Nights, | ||
| When silent Cynthia in her silver Car | ||
| Thro’ the blue Concave slides, when shine the Hills, | ||
| 165 | Twinkle the Streams, and Woods look tipt with Gold, | |
| To seek some level Mead, and there invoke | ||
| Old Midnight’s Sister Contemplation sage, | ||
| (Queen of the rugged Brow, and stern-fixt Eye) | ||
| To lift my Soul above this little Earth, | ||
| 170 | This Folly-fetter’d World; to purge my Ears, | |
| That I may hear the rolling Planets Song, | ||
| And tuneful-turning Spheres: If this debarr’d, | ||
| The little Fayes that dance in neighbouring Dales, | ||
| Sipping the Night-dew, while they laugh and love, | ||
| 175 | Shall charm me with aërial Notes. — As thus | |
| I wander musing, lo, what awful Forms | ||
| Yonder appear! sharp-ey’d Philosophy | ||
| Clad in dun Robes, an Eagle on his Wrist, | ||
| First meets my Eye; next, Virgin Solitude | ||
| 180 | Serene, who blushes at each Gazer’s Sight; | |
| Then Wisdom’s hoary Head, with Crutch in Hand, | ||
| Trembling, and bent with Age; last Virtue’s self | ||
| Smiling, in White array’d, who with her leads | ||
| Fair Innocence, that prattles by her Side, | ||
| A naked Boy! — Harrass’d with Fear I stop, | ||
| I gaze, when Virtue thus — “Whoe’er thou art, | ||
| “Mortal, by whom I deign to be beheld, | ||
| “In these my Midnight-Walks; depart, and say | ||
| “That henceforth I and my immortal Train | ||
| 190 | “Forsake Britannia’s Isle; who fondly stoops | |
| “To Vice, her favourite Paramour.” — She spoke, | ||
| And as she turn’d, her round and rosy Neck, | ||
| Her flowing Train, and long, ambrosial Hair, | ||
| Breathing rich Odours, I enamour’d view. | ||
| 195 | O who will bear me then to Western Climes, | |
| (Since Virtue leaves our wretched Land) to Shades | ||
| Yet unpolluted with Iberian Swords; | ||
| With simple Indian Swains, that I may hunt | ||
| The Boar and Tiger thro’ Savannah’s wild? | ||
| 200 | There fed on Dates and Herbs, would I despise | |
| The far-fetch’d Cates of Luxury, and Hoards | ||
| Of narrow-hearted Avarice; nor heed | ||
| The distant Din of the tumultuous World. | ||
| So when rude Whirlwinds rouze the roaring Main, | ||
| 205 | Beneath fair Thetis sits, in coral Caves, | |
| Serenely gay, nor sinking Sailors Cries | ||
| Disturb her sportive Nymphs, who round her form | ||
| The light fantastic Dance, or for her Hair | ||
| Weave rosy Crowns, or with according Lutes | ||
| 210 | Grace the soft Warbles of her honied Voice. | |
FINIS. |