205 Alike reserved to blame, or to commend,
A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend;
Dreading e'en fools, by flatterers besieged,
And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged;
Like Cato, give his little senate laws,
210 And sit attentive to his own applause;

While wits and templars every sentence raise,
And wonder with a foolish face of praise-
Who but must laugh, if such a man there be?
Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?

To shake the sounding marsh; or from the shore The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath, 25 And sing their wild notes to the listening waste. At last from Aries rolls the bounteous Sun, And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more Th' expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold; But, full of life and vivifying soul,

30 Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads them thin,

Fleecy and white, o'er all-surrounding heaven.
Forth fly the tepid airs; and unconfin'd,
Unbinding earth, the moving softness strays.
Joyous, the impatient husbandman perceives

35 Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers

Drives from their stalls, to where the well-us'd
plough

Lies in the furrow, loosen'd from the frost.
There, unrefusing, to the harness'd yoke

They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil, 40 Cheer'd by the simple song and soaring lark. Meanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share The master leans, removes th' obstructing clay, Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the glebe.

While thro' the neighb'ring fields the sower stalks,

45 With measur'd step; and liberal throws the grain Into the faithful bosom of the ground:

The harrow follows harsh, and shuts the scene.

Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious Man Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow! 50 Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, descend! And temper all, thou world-reviving sun, Into the perfect year! Nor ye who live In luxury and ease, in pomp and pride, Think these lost themes unworthy of your ear: 55 Such themes as these the rural Maro sung

To wide imperial Rome, in the full height
Of elegance and taste, by Greece refin'd.
In ancient times, the sacred plough employ'd
The kings and awful fathers of mankind:
60 And some, with whom compar'd your insect-tribes
Are but the beings of a summer's day,

Have held the scale of empire, rul'd the storm
Of mighty war; then, with victorious hand,
Disdaining little delicacies, seiz'd

65 The plough, and greatly independent, scorn'd
All the vile stores Corruption can bestow.

Ye generous Britons, venerate the plough; And o'er your hills, and long-withdrawing vales, Let Autumn spread his treasures to the sun, 70 Luxuriant and unbounded: as the Sea,

Far thro' his azure turbulent domain,

Your empire owns, and from a thousand shores Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports; So with superior boon may your rich soil, 75 Exuberant, Nature's better blessings pour O'er every land, the naked nations clothe, And be th' exhaustless granary of a world!

From the moist meadow to the wither'd hill, Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs And swells, and deepens, to the cherish'd eye. 90 The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, Till the whole leafy forest stands display'd, In full luxuriance to the sighing gales;

Where the deer rustle through the twining brake. 95 And the birds sing conceal'd. At once array'd In all the colours of the flushing year,

By Nature's swift and secret-working hand,
The garden glows, and fills the liberal air

With lavish fragrance; while the promis'd fruit

100 Lies yet a little embryo, unperceiv'd,

Within its crimson fold. Now from the town,
Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps,
Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields,

Where freshness breathes, and dash the trem-
b'ling drops

105 From the bent bush, as thro' the verdant maze
Of sweet-briar hedges I pursue my walk;
Or taste the smell of dairy, or ascend
Some eminence, AUGUSTA, in thy plains,
And see the country, far diffused around,
110 One boundless blush, one white empurpled
shower

Of mingled blossoms; where the raptur'd eye
Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath
The fair profusion, yellow Autumn spies.

SUMMER

(1827)

From brightening fields of ether fair disclos'd,
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's
depth:

He comes attended by the sultry Hours, 5 And ever-fanning breezes, on his way;

While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring,
Averts her blushful face; and earth, and skies,
All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves.

Hence, let me haste into the mid-wood shade, 10 Where scarce a sunbeam wanders thro' the gloom;

And on the dark-green grass, beside the brink
Of haunted stream, that by the roots of oak
Rolls o'er the rocky channel, lie at large,
And sing the glories of the circling year.

Now swarms the village o'er the joyful mead:

The rustic youth, brown with meridian toil, Healthful and strong; full as the summer rose 355 Blown by prevailing suns, the ruddy maid, Half naked, swelling on the sight, and all Her kindled graces burning o'er her cheek. E'en stooping age is here; and infant hands Trail the long rake, or, with the fragrant load 360 O'ercharg'd, amid the kind oppression roll. Wide flies the tedded grain; all in a row Advancing broad, or wheeling round the field, They spread their breathing harvest to the sun, That throws refreshful round a rural smell. 365 Or, as they take the green-appearing ground, And drive the dusky wave along the mead, The russet hay-cock rises thick behind,

In order gay: While, heard from dale to dale, Waking the breeze, resounds the blended voice 370 Of happy labour, love, and social glee.

Or rushing thence, in one diffusive band, They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog Compell'd, to where the mazy-running brook Forms a deep pool: this bank abrupt and high, 375 And that fair spreading in a pebbled shore. Urg'd to the giddy brink, much is the toil, The clamour much, of men, and boys, and dogs, Ere the soft fearful people to the flood

Commit their woolly sides. And oft the swain, 380 On some impatient seizing, hurls them in: Embolden'd then, nor hesitating more,

Fast, fast, they plunge amid the flashing wave, And, panting, labour to the farther shore. Repeated this till deep the well-wash'd fleece 385 Has drunk the flood, and from his lively haunt The trout is banish'd by the sordid stream;

Heavy, and dripping to the breezy brow

Slow move the harmless race; where, as they spread