To raise his feeble voice above
The crowd, and catch the ear of Jove. And do thou, Vacation, deign
To let me pafs among thy train; So may I thy votʼry true, All thy flow'ry paths purfue, Pleafed ftill with thee to meet In fome friendly rural feat; Where I gladfome oft' furvey Nature in her best array,
Woods and lawns and lakes between,
Fields of corn and hedges green,
Fallow grounds of tawny hue, Distant hills, and mountains blue; On whofe ridge far off appears A wood (the growth of many years) Of aweful oak, or gloomy pine, Above th' horizon's level line Rifing black fuch thofe of old Where British druids wont to hold Solemn affemblies, and to keep Their rites, unfolding myft'ries deep, Such that fam'd Dodona's grove, Sacred to prophetic Jove.
Oft' I admire the verdant steep, Spotted white with many a sheep, While, in paftures rich below Among the grazing cattle, flow
Moves the bull with heavy tread Hanging down his lumpish head, And the proud fteed neigheth oft' Shaking his wanton mane aloft. Or, traverfing the wood about, The jingling packhorse-bells remote I hear, amid the noontide ftillness, Sing thro' the air with brassy fhrillness; What time the waggon's cumbrous load Grates along the grav❜lly road: There onward, drefs'd in homely guife, Some unregarded maiden hies, Unless by chance a trav'lling 'fquire, Of base intent and foul defire,
Stops to infnare, with speech beguiling, Sweet innocence and beauty smiling. Nor fail I joyful to partake
The lively sports of country wake, Where many a lad and many a lafs Foot it on the close-trod grass. There nimble Marian of the green Matchless in the jig is feen, Allow'd beyond compare by all, The beauty of the ruftic ball: While, the tripping damfels near, Stands a lout with waggish leer; He, if Marian chance to fhew Her taper leg and ftocking blue,
Winks and nods and laughs aloud, Among the merry-making crowd, Utt'ring forth, in aukward jeer, Words unmeet for virgin's ear. Soon as ev'ning clouds have fhed Their wat❜ry ftore on earth's soft bed, And thro' their flowing mantles thin, Clear azure spots of sky are feen, I quit fome oak's close-cover'd bow'r To tafte the boon of new-fall'n fhow'r, To pace the corn-field's graffy edge Clofe by a fresh-blown fweet-bri'r hedge i While at every green leaf's end Pearly drops of rain depend, And an earthy fragrance 'round Rifes from the moiften'd ground, Sudden a fun-beam darting out, Brightens the landskip all about, With yellow light the grove o'erspreads, And tips with gold the haycocks' heads Then, as mine eye is eastward led, Some fair castle rears its head,
Whose height the country round commands, Well known mark to distant lands, There the windows glowing bright Blaze from afar with ruddy light Borrow'd from clouds of scarlet dye, Just as the fun hath left the sky.
But if chill Eurus cut the air With keener wing, I then repair To park or woodland, fhelter meet, Near fome noble's ancient feat, Where long winding walks are feen Stately oaks and elms between, Whofe arms promifcuous form above High over-arch'd a green alcove; While the hoarfe-voic'd hungry rook Near her ftick-built neft doth croak, Waving on the topmost bough; And the mafter ftag below Bellows loud with favage roar, Stalking all his hinds before. Thus mufing, night with even pace Steals on, o'erfhad'wing nature's face; While the bat with dusky wings Flutters round in giddy rings, And the buzzing chaffers come Close by mine ear with folemn hum. Homeward now my steps I guide
Some rifing graffy bank befide, Studded thick with sparks of light Iffuing from many a glow-worm bright; While village-cur with minute bark Alarms the pilf'rer in the dark, Save what light the ftars convey,
'Cluster'd in the milky way,
Or fcatter'd numberless on high Twinkling all o'er the boundless fky. Then within doors let me meet The viol touch'd by finger neat, Or, foft fymphonies among
Wrap me in the facred fong,
Attun'd by Handel's matchless skill, While Attention mute and ftill Fixes all my foul to hear
The voice harmonious, sweet and clear. Nor let fmooth-tongu'd Converfe fail, With many a well-devised tale,
And ftories link'd, to twift a chain ..That may awhile old Time detain, And make him reft upon his scythe Pleas'd to fee the hours fo blithe: While, with sweet attractive grace, The beauteous houfe-wife of the place Wins the heart of ev'ry gueft
By courteous deeds, and all contest Which shall readieft homage fhew To fuch fov'reign sweetness due. Thefe delights, Vacation, give, And I with thee will chufe to live.
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