XXVIII. The rancour, thus, of rufhing fate, I've learnt to render vain : For whilft Integrity's her feat, The foul will fit ferene. XXIX. A raven, from fome greedy vault, Bids me, and 'tis a folemn thought! Reflect upon the tomb. The tomb! XXX. The confecrated dome! The temple rais'd to PEACE! The port, that to its friendly home Compels the human race! XXXI. Yon village, to the moral mind, A folemn afpect wears; Where fleep hath lull'd the labour'd hind, And kill'd his daily cares : XXXII. "Tis but the church-yard of the Night; An emblematic bed! That offers to the mental fight The temporary dead. XXXIII. From hence, I'll penetrate, in thought, To meet my final fleep. XXXIV. 130 'Tis peace (The little chaos past!) 135 The gracious moon restor'd! A breeze fucceeds the frightful blaft, That through the foreft roar'd! XXXV. The Nightingale, a welcome guest! And HOPE (juft wand'ring from my breast) Her wonted feat regains. XXXVI, Yes--When yon lucid orb is dark, And darting from on high; My foul, a more celeftial spark, Shall keep her native sky. XXXVII. Fann'd by the light-the lenient breeze, My limbs refreshment find; And moral rhapsodies, like thefe, Give vigour to the mind. 140 145 A LANDSCAPE. BY THE SAME. Rura mihi & irrigui placeant in vallibus amnes. I. Now that Summer's ripen'd bloom II. Nature in the prospect yields Humble dales, and mountains bold, Meadows, woodlands, heaths,-and fields Yellow'd o'er with waving gold. III. VIRG. 5 Goats upon that frowning steep, Fearless, with their kidlings brouse! 10 Here a flock of fnowy sheep! There an herd of motly cows ! IV. On the uplands, every glade Softens to an evening grey. V. Where the rill, by flow degrees, Shaggy rocks and shelving trees VI. Shiver'd by a thunder-ftroke, From the mountain's mifty ridge, O'er the brook a ruin'd oak, Near the farm-houfe, forms a bridge. VII On her breast the funny beam Glitters in meridian pride; Yonder as the virgin stream VIII. Where the ships, by wanton gales Wafted, o'er the green-waves run, Sweet to fee their swelling fails 15 20 25 30 Cheerful as a fummer's morn, (Bouncing from her loaded pad) Where the maid presents her corn, Smirking, to the miller's lad, XI. O'er the green a festal throng Gambols, in fantastic trim ! As the full cart moves along, Hearken-'tis their harvest hymn! XII. Linnets on the crouded sprays 35 40 49 Chorus, and the wood-larks rise, Soaring with a fong of praise, 'Till the fweet notes reach the fkies. .XIII. Torrents in extended fheets Down the cliffs, dividing, break: 'Twixt the hills the water meets, Settling in a filver lake! 50 |