PATRIOTIC APOSTROPHE TO GREAT BRITAIN. THE PATRIOT'S PRAYER FOR THE VIRTUES OF PEACE, LOVE, O Thou! by whose Almighty nod the scale Send forth the saving Virtues round the land, On gentle deeds, and shedding tears through smiles; A SUMMER SUNSET. Low walks the sun, and broadens by degrees, Just o'er the verge of day. The shifting clouds Assembled gay, a richly gorgeous train, In all their pomp attend his setting throne. A LIFE OF SELFISHNESS AND OF BENEFICENCE COntrasted. Forever running an enchanted round, Passes the day, deceitful, vain, and void; As fleets the vision o'er the formful brain, This moment hurrying wild the impassioned soul, The next in nothing lost. 'Tis so to him, The dreamer of this earth, an idle blank : A sight of horror to the cruel wretch, Who all day long in sordid pleasure rolled, Himself a useless load, has squandered vile, Upon his scoundrel train, what might have cheered A drooping family of modest worth. But to the generous, still-improving mind, That gives the hopeless heart to sing for joy, Diffusing kind beneficence around, Boastless, as now descends the silent dew; To him the long review of ordered life Is inward rapture, only to be felt. A SUMMER EVENING. THE EVENING SHADOWS AND BREEZE. -THE QUAIL; WAFTED SEEDS. Confessed from yonder slow-extinguished clouds, A thousand shadows at her beck. First this THE SHEPHERD AND MILKMAID RETURNING FROM WORK. — FAIRIES. THE SUICIDE'S GRAVE. THE GHOST TOWER. His folded flock secure, the shepherd home Hies, merry-hearted; and by turns relieves The ruddy milkmaid of her brimming pail ; The beauty whom perhaps his witless heart, Unknowing what the joy-mixed anguish means, Sincerely loves, by that best language shown Of cordial glances, and obliging deeds. Onward they pass, o'er many a panting height, And valley sunk, and unfrequented; where At fall of eve the fairy people throng, In various game and revelry, to pass The summer night, as village-stories tell. But far about they wander from the grave Of him, whom his ungentle fortune urged Against his own sad breast to lift the hand Of impious violence. The lonely tower Is also shunned; whose mournful chambers hold, So night-struck Fancy dreams, the yelling ghost. A SUMMER NIGHT. THE GLOW-WORM. THE EVENING STAR. Among the crooked lanes, on every hedge, [dark, The glow-worm lights his gems; and, through the A moving radiance twinkles. Evening yields The world to Night; not in her winter robe Of massy Stygian woof, but loose arrayed In mantle dun. A faint erroneous ray, Glanced from th' imperfect surfaces of things, Flings half an image on the straining eye; While wavering woods, and villages, and streams, And rocks, and mountain-tops, that long retained Th' ascending gleam, are all one swimming scene, Uncertain if beheld. Sudden to Heaven Thence weary vision turns, where, leading soft The silent hours of love, with purest ray Sweet Venus shines; and from her genial rise, When daylight sickens till it springs afresh, Unrivalled reigns, the fairest lamp of Night. METEORS OF A SUMMER NIGHT; HEAT-LIGHTNING'; SHOOTING STARS. STARS; COMETS; REACH OF SCIENCE; USE OF COMETS. As thus th' effulgence tremulous I drink, In wondrous shapes: by fearful murmuring crowds To light up worlds, and feed the eternal fire. CONCLUDING APOSTROPHE TO PHILOSOPHY.— REASON AND FANCY POETRY. With thee, serene Philosophy, with thee, And thy bright garland, let me crown my song! Effusive source of evidence, and truth! A lustre shedding o'er the ennobled mind, Stronger than summer-noon; and pure as that Whose mild vibrations soothe the parted soul, New to the dawning of celestial day. [thee, Hence, through her nourished powers, enlarged by She springs aloft, with elevated pride, Above the tangling mass of low desires, That bind the fluttering crowd; and, angel-winged, The heights of science and of virtue gains, Where all is calm and clear; with Nature round, Or in the starry regions, or the abyss, To Reason's and to Fancy's eye displayed: The First up-tracing, from the dreary void, The chain of causes and effects to Him, The world-producing essence, who alone Possesses being; while the Last receives The whole magnificence of heaven and earth, And every beauty, delicate or bold, Obvious or more remote, with livelier sense, Diffusive painted on the rapid mind. Tutored by thee, hence Poetry exalts Her voice to ages, and informs the page MAN WITHOUT PHILOSOPHY IS DESTITUTE OF HOME, SOCIETY, Without thee what were unenlightened man? Nor guardian law were his; nor various skill PHILOSOPHY GUIDES SOCIETY, EXPLORES CREATION, REVEALS While thus laborious crowds Of the Sole Being right, who spoke the Word, DIVINE LOVE AND WISDOM EVER PROGRESSIVE. But here the cloud (So wills eternal Providence) sits deep. Enough for us to know that this dark state, In wayward passions lost, and vain pursuits, This Infancy of Being, cannot prove The final issue of the works of God, By boundless Love and perfect Wisdom formed, And ever rising with the rising mind. Pastorals for June. CUNNINGHAM'S "DAY." MORNING. IN the barn the tenant cock, Close to Partlet perched on high, Briskly crows (the shepherd's clock !), Jocund that the morning's nigh. Swiftly from the mountain's brow Shadows, nursed by night, retire ; And the peeping sunbeam now Paints with gold the village spire. Philomel forsakes the thorn, Plaintive where she prates at night; And the lark, to meet the morn, Soars beyond the shepherd's sight. From the low-roofed cottage ridge See the chatt'ring swallow spring; Darting through the one-arched bridge, Quick she dips her dappled wing. Now the pine-tree's waving top Gently greets the morning gale! Kidlings now begin to crop Daisies in the dewy vale. From the balmy sweets, uncloyed When 't is sun-drove from the hills. Anxious for the promised corn (Ere the harvest hopes are ripe), Colin hears the huntsman's horn, Boldly sounding, drown his pipe. Sweet, O sweet, the warbling throng, On the white emblossomed spray! Nature's universal song Echoes to the rising day. NOON. Fervid on the glittering flood Now the noontide radiance glows; Drooping o'er its infant bud, Not a dew-drop's left the rose. By the brook the shepherd dines; From the fierce meridian heat Sheltered by the branching pines, Pendent o'er his grassy seat. Now the flock forsakes the glade, By the ivied abbey-wall. O'er the river, rock, and hill, Save the clack of yonder mill. But from mountain, dell, or stream, Scorch its soft, its silken wings. Till the fresh descending shower, Grateful to the thirsty ground, Raises every fainting flower. 154 RURAL POETRY. CUNNINGHAM · SHENSTONE-OTWAY. As the lark with varied tune Now the hermit howlet peeps As the trout, in speckled pride, Verges in successive rings. Tripping through the silken grass, Linnets, with unnumbered notes, And the cuckoo-bird with two, Tuning sweet their mellow throats, Bid the setting sun adieu. SHENSTONE'S "HOPE.” My banks they are furnished with bees, Such health do my fountains bestow; My fountains all bordered with moss, Where the hare-bells and violets grow. Not a pine in my grove is there seen, But with tendrils of woodbine is bound: Not a beech's more beautiful green, But a sweetbrier entwines it around. Not my fields in the prime of the year More charms than my cattle unfold; Not a brook that is limpid and clear, But it glitters with fishes of gold. One would think she might like to retire To prune the wild branches away. From the plains, from the woodlands and groves, From the thickets of roses that blow ! In a concert so soft and so clear, I have found out a gift for my fair; I have found where the wood-pigeons breed: But let me that plunder forbear, She will say 't was a barbarous deed. For he ne'er could be true, she averred, Who could rob a poor bird of its young: And I loved her the more when I heard Such tenderness fall from her tongue. I have heard her with sweetness unfold How that pity was due to a dove: That it ever attended the bold; And she called it the sister of love. But her words such a pleasure convey, So much I her accents adore, Let her speak, and whatever she say, Methinks I should love her the more. Can a bosom so gentle remain Unmoved, when her Corydon sighs? Will a nymph that is fond of the plain, These plains and this valley despise? Dear regions of silence and shade! Soft scenes of contentment and ease! Where I could have pleasingly strayed, If aught in her absence could please. But where does my Phyllida stray? And where are her grots and her bowers? Are the groves and the valleys as gay, And the shepherds as gentle as ours? The groves may perhaps be as fair, And the face of the valleys as fine, The swains may in manners compare, But their love is not equal to mine. OTWAY'S "MORNING." WISHED morning's come; and now upon the plains And distant mountains, where they feed their flocks, The happy shepherds leave their homely huts, And with their pipes proclaim the new-born day. The lusty swain comes, with his well-filled scrip Of healthful viands, which, when hunger calls, With much content and appetite he eats, To follow in the field his daily toil, And dress the grateful glebe that yields him fruits. The beasts that under the warm hedges slept, And weathered out the cold bleak night, are up ; And looking towards the neighboring pastures, raise Their voice, and bid their fellow brutes good-morThe cheerful birds, too, on the tops of trees, [row. Assemble all in choirs; and with their notes Salute and welcome up the rising sun. Browne's "Britannia's Pastorals." EXTRACTS. THE PREFACE.1 I THAT Whilere near Tavy's 2 straggling spring Unto my silly sheep did use to sing, And played to please myself, on rustic reed, Nor sought for bays (the learned shepherd's meed), But as a swain unknown fed on the plains, And made the echo umpire of my strains : And drawn by time (although the weak'st of many), To sing those lays as yet unsung of any What need I tune the swains of Thessaly? Or, bootless, add to them of Arcady? No fair Arcadia cannot be completer, My praise may lessen, but not make thee greater. DESCRIPTION OF CELANDINE AND MARINA; SHE LOVES HIM, High on the plains of that renowned isle, 3 Within those breasts her face a flame did move, Unto the sun they thought that Cynthia's light Might well be spared, where she appeared in night; And as when many to the goal do run, The prize is given never but to one : So first and only Celandine was led, Of destinies and heaven much favoréd, To gain this beauty, which I here do offer To memory his pains (who would not proffer 1 The scenes of these pastorals are laid in the south part of primitive England; rivers, the sea, and other natural objects, are prettily personified after the classical manner. The plot is incoherent; but the whole poem, of more than three hundred pages, though tedious, is yet full of quaint beauties, poetic imagery, and sunny pictures. Book I. was published in 1613, Book II. in 1616; both were reprinted in 1625. William Browne died, probably, in 1665. Tavy is a river, having his head in Dartmoor in Devon, some few miles from Mary-Tavy, and falls southward into Tamar. 3 Great Britain. He was the elm whereby her vine did grow: Did nature's jewel, by his craft, beguile : To cries and tears, fruits of a funeral: Running the mountains, fields, by watery springs, And uttering to the trees what her tears meant. * * THE LOVE-SICK MARINA THROWS HERSELF INTO A RIVER; 'Would she be won with me to stay, |