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The rancour, thus, of rushing fate,
I've learnt to render vain : For whilft Integrity's her feat,
The foul will fit ferene.
A raven, from some greedy vault,
Amidlt that cloister'd gloom,
Refleet upon the tomb.
The tomb !The consecrated dome!
The temple rais'd to Peace! The port, that to its friendly home
Compels the human race !
Yon village, to the moral mind,
A folemn aspect wears ;
And kill'd his daily cares :
An emblematic bed !
The temporary dead.
From hence, I'll penetrate, in thought,
The grave's unmeasur'd deep;
To meet my final sleep.
The gracious moon restorid !
That through the forest roar'd !
Renews her gentle strains ;
Her wonted seat regains.
And darting from on high ;
Shall keep her native sky.
Fann'd by the light-the lenient breeze,
My limbs refreshment find ; And moral rhapsodies, like these,
Give vigour to the mind.
BY THE SAME.
Rura mibi & irrigui placeant in vallibus amnes.
Frolicks where the winter frown'd,
We command the landscape round.
Nature in the prospect yields
Humble dales, and mountains bold, Meadows, woodlands, heaths,--and fields
Yellow'd o'er with waving gold.
Goats upon that frowning fteep,
Fearless, with their kidlings brouse ! Here a flock of snowy sheep!
There an herd of motly cows !
On the uplands, every glade
Brightens in the blaze of day; Oer the vales, the sober shade
Softens to an evening grey.
Where the rill, by flow degrees,
Swells into a cryftal pool, Shaggy rocks and shelving trees
Shoot to keep the waters cool.
Shiver'd by a thunder-stroke,
From the mountain's misty ridge, O'er the brook a ruin'd oak,
Near the farm-house, forms a bridge.
On her breast the funny beam
Glitters in meridian pride ; Yonder as the virgin stream
Haftens to the restless tide :
Where the ships, by wanton gales
Wafted, o'er the green-waves run, Sweet to see their swelling fails
Whitend by the laughing fun!
IX. High upon the daisied hill,
Rifing from the slope of trees, How the wings of yonder mill
Labour in the busy breeze!
Cheerful as a summer's morn,
(Bouncing from her loaded pad) Where the maid presents her corn,
Smirking, to the miller's lad,
O'er the green a festal throng
Gambols, in fantastic trim ! As the full cart moves along,
Hearken-'tis their harvest hymn!
Linnets on the crouded sprays
Chorus,-and the wood-larks rise, Soaring with a song of praise,
'Till the sweet notes reach the skies.
Torrents in extended sheets
Down the cliffs, dividing, break : 'Twixt the hills the water meets,
Settling in a filver lake!