Ye birds, and all ye sylvan beauties hail!

Oh how I long with you to spend my days, Invoke the muse, and try the rural lays!

No trumpets there with martial clangor found, No prostrate heroes strew the crimson'd ground; No groves of lances glitter in the air, Nor thund'ring drums provoke the sanguine war; but white-rob'd peace, and universal love Smile in the field, and brighten, ev'ry grove, There all the beauties of the circling year, In native ornamental pride appear; Gay rosy-bosom'd SPRING, and _April_ show'rs; Wake from the womb of earth the rising flow'rs: In deeper verdure SUMMER clothes the plain, And AUTUMN bends beneath the golden grain; The trees weep amber, and the whispering gales Breeze o'er the lawn, or murmur through the vales: The flow'ry tribes in gay confusion bloom, Profuse of sweets, and fragrant with perfume; On blossoms blossoms, fruits on fruits arise.

And varied prospects glad the wand'ring eyes.

In these fair seats I'd pa.s.s the joyous day, Where meadows flourish and where fields look gay; From bliss to bliss with endless pleasure rove, Seek crystal streams, or haunt the vernal grove, Woods, fountains, lakes, the fertile fields, or shades Aerial mountains, or subjacent glades.

There from the polish'd fetters of the great, Triumphal piles, and gilded rooms of state; Prime ministers, and sycophantic knaves; Ill.u.s.trious villains, and ill.u.s.trious slaves; From all the vain formality of fools, An odious task of arbitrary rules; The ruffling cares which the vex'd soul annoy, The wealth the rich possess, but not enjoy, The visionary bliss the world can lend, The insidious foe, and false designing friend, The seven-fold fury of _Xantippe_'s soul, And _S----_'s rage that burns without controul; I'd live retir'd, contented, and serene, Forgot, unknown, unenvied and unseen.

Yet not a real hermitage I'd chuse, Nor wish to live from all the world recluse; But with a friend sometimes unbend the soul, In social converse, o'er the sprightly bowl.

With cheerful _W----_, serene and wisely gay, I'd often pa.s.s the dancing hours away; He skill'd alike to profit and to please, Politely talks with unaffected ease; Sage in debate, and faithful to his trust, Mature in science, and severely just; Of soul diffusive, vast and unconfin'd, Breathing benevolence to all mankind; Cautious to censure, ready to commend, A firm, unshaken, uncorrupted friend: In early youth fair wisdom's paths he trod, In early youth a minister of G.o.d: Each pupil lov'd him when at _Yale_ he shone, And ev'ry bleeding bosom weeps him gone.

Dear _A----_, too, should grace my rural seat, Forever welcome to the green retreat: Heav'n for the cause of righteousness design'd His florid genius, and capacious mind: Oft have I heard, amidst th' adoring throng, Celestial truths devolving from his tongue; High o'er the list'ning audience seen him stand, Divinely speak, and graceful stretch his hand: With such becoming grace and pompous sound, With long-rob'd senators encircled round, Before the Roman bar, while _Rome_ was free, Nor bow'd to _Caesar's_ throne the servile knee; Immortal _Tully_ pleads the patriot cause, While ev'ry tongue resounded his applause.

Next round my board should candid _S----_ appear, Of manners gentle, and a friend sincere, Averse to discord party-rage and strife, He sails serenely down the stream of life.

With these _three friends_ beneath a spreading shade, Where silver fountains murmur thro' the glade; Or in cool grots, perfum'd with native flow'rs, In harmless mirth I'd spend the circling hours; Or gravely talk, or innocently sing, Or, in harmonious concert, strike the trembling string.

Amid sequester'd bow'rs near gliding streams, _Druids_ and _Bards_ enjoy'd serenest dreams.

Such was the seat where courtly _Horace_ sung: And his bold harp immortal _Maro_ strung: Where tuneful _Orpheus_' unresisted lay, Made rapid tygers bear their rage away; While groves attentive to th' extatic sound Burst from their roots, and raptur'd, danc'd around.

Such feats the venerable _Seers_ of old (When blissful years in golden circles roll'd) Chose and admir'd: e'en G.o.ddesses and G.o.ds (As poets feign) were fond of such abodes: Th' imperial consort of fict.i.tious _Jove_, For fount full _Ida_ forsook the realms above.

Oft to _Idalia_ on a golden cloud, Veil'd in a mist of fragrance, _Venus_ rode; The num'rous altars to the queen were rear'd, And love-sick youths there am'rous-vows prefer'd, While fair-hair'd damsels (a lascivious train) With wanton rites ador'd her gentle reign.

The silver-shafted _Huntress_ of the woods, Sought pendant shades, and bath'd in cooling floods.

In palmy _Delos_, by _Scamander_'s side, Or when _Cajister_ roll'd his silver tide, Melodious _Phoebus_ sang; the _Muses round_ Alternate warb'ling to the heav'nly sound.

E'en the feign'd MONARCH of heav'n's bright abode, High thron'd in gold, of G.o.ds the sov'reign G.o.d, Oft time prefer'd the shade of _Ida_'s grove To all th'ambrosial feast's, and nectar'd cups above.

Behold, the rosy-finger'd morning dawn, In saffron rob'd, and blushing o'er the lawn!

Reflected from the clouds, a radiant stream, Tips with etherial dew the mountain's brim.

Th' unfolding roses, and the op'ning flow'rs Imbibe the dew, and strew the varied bow'rs, Diffuse nectarious sweets around, and glow With all the colours of the show'ry bow The industrious bees their balmy toil renew, Buzz o'er the field, and sip the rosy dew.

But yonder comes th'ill.u.s.trious G.o.d of day, Invests the east, and gilds the etherial way; The groves rejoice, the feather'd nations sing, Echo the mountains and the vallies ring.

Hail Orb! array'd with majesty and fire, That bids each sable shade of night retire!

Fountain of light! with burning glory crown'd, Darting a deluge of effulgence round!

Wak'd by thy genial and praline ray, Nature resumes her verdure, and looks gay; Fresh blooms the rose, the dropping plants revive, The groves reflourish, and forests live.

Deep in the teeming earth, the rip'ning ore Confesses thy consolidating pow'r: Hence labour draws her tools, and artists mould The fusile silver and the ductile gold: Hence war is furnish'd, and the regal shield Like lightning flashes o'er th' illumin'd field.

If thou so fair with delegated light, That all heav'n's splendors vanish at thy sight; With what effulgence must the ocean glow!

From which thy borrow'd beams incessant flow!

Th' exhaustless force whose single smiles supplies, Th' unnumber'd orbs that gild the spangled skies!

Oft would I view, in admiration lost, Heav'n's sumptuous canopy, and starry host; With level'd tube and astronomic eye, Pursue the planets whirling thro' the sky: Immeasurable vaults! where thunders roll, And forked lightnings flash from pole to pole.

Say, railing infidel! canst thou survey Yon globe of fire, that gives the golden day, Th' harmonious structure of this vast machine, And not confess its Architect divine?

Then go, vain wretch; tho' deathless be thy soul, Go, swell the riot, and exhaust the bowl; Plunge into vice, humanity resign, Go, fill the stie, and bristle into swine?

None but a pow'r omnipotent and wise Could frame this earth, or spread the boundless skies He made the whole; at his omnific call, } From formless chaos rose this s.p.a.cious ball, } And one ALMIGHTY G.o.d is seen in all. } By him our cup is crown'd, our table spread With luscious wine, and life-sustaining bread.

What countless wonders doth the earth contain!

What countless wonders the unfathom'd main!

Bedrop'd with gold, their scaly nations shine, Haunt coral groves, or lash the foaming brine.

JEHOVAH's glories blaze all nature round.

In heaven, on earth, and in the deeps profound; Ambitious of his name, the warblers sing, And praise their Maker while they hail the spring: The zephyrs breathe it, and the thunders roar, While surge to surge, and sh.o.r.e resounds to sh.o.r.e.

But MAN, endu'd with an immortal mind, His Maker's Image, and for heaven design'd; To loftier notes his raptur'd voice should raise, And chaunt sublimer hymns to his Creator's praise.

When rising _Phoebus_ ushers in the morn, And golden beams th' impurpled skies adorn: Wak'd by the gentle murmur of the floods, Or the soft music of the waving woods; Rising from sleep with the melodious quire, To solemn sounds I'd tune the hallow'd lyre.

Thy name, O G.o.d! should tremble on my tongue, Till ev'ry grove prov'd vocal to my song: (Delightful task! with dawning light to sing, Triumphant hymns to heav'n's eternal king.) Some courteous angel should my breast inspire, Attune my lips, and guide the warbled wire, While sportive echoes catch the sacred sound, Swell ev'ry note, and bear the music round; While mazy streams meand'ring to the main Hang in suspence to hear the heav'nly strain; And hush'd to silence, all the feather'd throng, Attentive listen to the tuneful song.

Father of _Light_! exhaustless source of good!

Supreme, eternal, self-existent G.o.d!

Before the beamy sun dispens'd a ray, Flam'd in the azure vault, and gave the day; Before the glimm'ring Moon with borrow'd light, Shone queen amid the silver host of night; High in the Heav'ns, thou reign'dst superior Lord, By suppliant angels worship'd and ador'd.

With the celestial choir then let me join, In cheerful praises to the pow'r Divine.

To sing thy praise, do thou, O G.o.d! inspire, A mortal breast with more than mortal fire; In dreadful majesty thou sit'st enthron'd, With light encircled, and with glory crown'd; Thro' all infinitude extends thy reign, For thee, nor heav'n, nor heav'n of heav'ns contain; But tho' thy throne is fix'd above the sky, Thy _Omnipresence_ fills immensity.

Saints rob'd in white, to thee their anthems bring, And radient Martyrs hallelujahs sing: Heav'n's universal host their voices raise, In one _eternal chorus_, to thy praise; And round thy awful throne, with one accord, Sing, Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord.

At thy creative voice, from ancient night, Sprang smiling beauty, and yon' worlds of light: Thou spak'st--the planetary Chorus roll'd And all th' expanse was starr'd with beamy gold; _Let there be light_, said G.o.d--Light instant shone, And from the orient, burst the golden Sun; Heav'n's gazing hierarchies, with glad surprise, Saw the first morn invest the skies, And straight th' exulting troops thy throne surround, With thousand thousand harps of heav'nly sound: Thrones, powers, dominions, (ever shining trains!) Shouted thy praises in triumphant strains: _Great are thy works_, they sing, and, all around, _Great are thy works_, the echoing heav'n's resound.

The effulgent sun, insufferably bright, Is but a beam of thy o'erflowing light; The tempest is thy breath; the thunder hurl'd, Tremendous roars thy vengeance o'er the world; Thou bow'st the heav'ns the smoaking mountains nod; Rocks fall to dust, and nature owns her G.o.d; Pale tyrants shrink, the atheist stands aghast, And impious kings in horror breath their last.

To this great G.o.d alternately I'd pay, The evening anthem, and the morning lay.

For sov'reign _Gold_ I never would repine, Nor wish the glitt'ring dust of monarchs mine.

What tho' high columns heave into the skies, Gay ceilings shine, and vaulted arches rise; Tho' fretted gold the sculptur'd roof adorn, The rubies redden, and the jaspers burn!

Or what, alas! avails the gay attire, To wretched man, who breathes but to expire!

Oft on the vilest, riches are bestow'd, To shew their meanness in the sight of G.o.d.

High from a dung-hill, see a _Dives_ rise, And, _t.i.tan_-like, insult th' avenging skies: The crowd, in adulation, calls him Lord, By thousands courted, flatter'd, and ador'd: In riot plung'd, and drunk with earthly joys, No higher thought his grov'ling foul employs: The poor he scourges with an iron rod, And from his bosom banishes his G.o.d.

But oft in height of wealth, and beauty's bloom, Deluded man is fated to the tomb!

For, lo! he sickens, swift his colour flies, And rising mists obscure his swimming eyes: Around his bed his weeping friends bemoan, Extort th' unwilling tear, and wish him gone; His sorrowing heir augments the tender show'r, Deplores his death--yet hails the dying hour.

Ah bitter comfort! Sad relief, to die!

Tho' sunk in down, beneath the canopy!

His eyes no more shall see the cheerful light, Weigh'd down by death in everlasting night: "And when with age thy head is silver'd o'er, "And cold in death thy bosom beats no more, "Thy foul exulting shall desert its clay, "And mount, triumphant, to eternal day."

But to improve the intellectual mind, Reading should be to contemplation join'd.

First I'd collect from the Parna.s.sian spring, What muses dictate, and what poets sing.-- _Virgil_, as Prince, shou'd wear the laurel'd crown, And other bards pay homage to his throne; The blood of heroes now effus'd so long, Will run forever purple thro' his song.

See! how he mounts toward the blest abodes, On planets rides, and talks with demi-G.o.ds!

How do our ravish'd spirits melt away, When in his song _Sicilian_ shepherds play!

But what a splendor strikes the dazzled eye, When _Dido_ shines in awful majesty!

Embroider'd purple clad the _Tyrian_ queen, Her motion graceful, and august her mein; A golden zone her royal limbs embrac'd, A golden quiver rattled by her waist.

See her proud steed majestically prance, Contemn the trumpet, and deride the lance!

In crimson trappings, glorious to behold, Confus'dly gay with interwoven gold!

He champs the bitt, and throws the foam around, Impatient paws, and tears the solid ground.

How stern _aeneas_ thunders thro' the field!

With tow'ring helmet, and refulgent shield!

Coursers o'erturn'd, and mighty warriors slain, Deform'd with gore, lie welt'ring on the plain.

Struck thro' with wounds, ill-fated chieftains lie, Frown e'en in death, and threaten as they die.

Thro' the thick squadrons see the Hero bound, (His helmet flashes, and his arms resound!) All grim with rage, he frowns o'er _Turnus'_ head, (Re-kindled ire! for blooming _Pallas_ dead) Then, in his bosom plung'd the shining blade-- The soul indignant sought the Stygian shade!

The far-fam'd bards that grac'd _Britannia's_ isle, Should next compose the venerable pile.

Great _Milton_ first, for tow'ring thought renown'd, Parent of song, and fam'd the world around!

His glowing breast divine _Urania_ fir'd, Or G.o.d himself th' immortal Bard inspir'd.

Borne on triumphant wings he take this flight, Explores all heaven, and treads the realms of light: In martial pomp he clothes th' angelic train, While warring myriads shake th' etherial plain.

First _Michael_ stalks, high tow'ring o'er the rest; With heav'nly plumage nodding on his crest: Impenetrable arms his limbs unfold, Eternal adamant, and burning gold!

Sparkling in fiery mail, with dire delight, Rebellious _Satan_ animates the fight: Armipotent they sink in rolling smoke, All heav'n resounding, to its centre shook, To crush his foes, and quell the dire alarms, _Messiah_ sparkled in refulgent arms; In radient panoply divinely bright, His limbs incas'd, he slash'd devouring light, On burning wheels, o'er heav'n's crystalline road Thunder'd the chariot of thy _Filial_ G.o.d; The burning wheels on golden axles turn'd, With flaming gems the golden axles burn'd.

Lo! the apostate host, with terror struck, Roll back by millions! Th' Empyrean shook!

Sceptres, and orbid shields, and crowns of gold, Cherubs and Seraphs in confusion roll'd; Till, from his hand, the triple thunder hurl'd, Compell'd them headlong, to th' Infernal world.

Then tuneful _Pope_, whom all the nine inspire, With _saphic_ sweetness, and _pindaric_ fire.

Father of verse! melodious and divine!

Next peerless _Milton_ should distinguish'd shine.

Smooth flow his numbers when he paints the grove, Th' enraptur'd virgins list'ning into love.

But when the night and hoa.r.s.e resounding storm, Rush on the deep, and _Neptune's_ face deform, Rough runs the verse, the son'rous numbers roar Like the hoa.r.s.e surge that thunders on the sh.o.r.e.