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May my song foften, as thy Daughters I,
Britannia, bail ! for beauty is their own,
The feeling heart, fimplicity of life,
And elegance, and taste : the faultless form,
Shap'd by the hand of harmony; the check,
Where the live crimson, through the native white
Soft-shooting, o'er the face diffuses bloom,
And every nameless grace; the parted lip,
Like the red rose-bud moist with morning dew,
Breathing delight ; and, under flowing jet,
Or funny ringlets, or of circling brown,
The neck slight-lhaded, and the swelling breast ;
The look relistless, piercing to the soul,
And by the soul inform’d, when drest in love
She fits high-smiling in the conscious eye.

Island of bliss ! amid the subject seas,
That thunder round thy rocky coats, fet up,
At once the wonder, terrour, and delight
Of diftant nations: whose remoteft shores
Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm;
Not to be shook thyfelf, but all assau
Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea-wave.

o Thou! by whose almighty Nod, the scale
Of empire rises, or alternate falls,
Send forth the saving virtues round the land,
In bright patrol : white Peace, and focial Love;
The tender-looking Charity, intent
On gentle deeds, and shedding tears thro' smiles ;
Undaunted Truth, and Dignity of mind;
Courage compos'd, and keen; found Temperance,
Healthful in heart and look ; clear Chastity,
With blushes reddening as she moves along,
Disorder'd at the deep regard she draws ;
Rough Industry ; Activity untir'd,
With copious life inform'd, and all awake:
While in the radiant front, fuperiour shino
That first paternal virtue, Public Zeal ;
Who throws o'er all an equal wide survey,
And, ever musing on the cammon weal,
Still labours glorious with some great design.


XIII. Hymn to the Deity, on the Seasons of the Year.
THESE, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, these,

Are but the varied God. The rolling year
Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love.
Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm ;
Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles ;
And every sense, and every heart is joy.
Then comes thy glory in the Summer-months,
With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun
Shoots full perfe&tion thro' the swelling year :
And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks ;
And oft, at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,
By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales.
Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfin'd,
And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
In Winter, awful Thou! with clouds and storms
Around thee thrown ; tempeft o'er tempest rolld;
Majestic darkness ! on the whirlwind's wing
Riding sublime, thou' bid'st the w«ild adore,
And humblest Nature with thy northern blalt.

Mysterious round!' what kill, what force divine,
Deep-felt, in these appear! a simple train :
Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art,
Such beauty and beneficence combin'd;
Shade, unperceiv'd, so softening into shade;
And all so forming an harmonious whole ;
That, as they still fucceed, they ravith still.
But, wandering oft with brute unconscious gaze,
Man marks not thee, marks not the mighty hand,
That, ever busy, wheels the filent spheres;
Works in the secret deep; shoots, steaming, thence
The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring ;
Flings from the sun direct the flaming day;
Feeds ev'ry creature ; hurls the tempest forth,
And, as on Earth this grateful change revolves,
With transport touches all the springs of life.

Nature, attend ! Join every living foul,
Beneath the spacious temple of the sky,
In adoration join; and, ardent, raise
One general song! To him, ye rocal gales,



Breathe soft, whofe Spirit in


freshness breathes O talk of him in solitary glooms ! Where, o'er the rock, the Icarcely waving pine Fills the brown shade with a religious awe. And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar, Who shake th' astonish'd world, lift high to heaven Th' impetuous fong, and say from whom you rage. His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills; And let me catch it as I muse along. Ve headlong torrents, rapid and profound; Ye fofter floods, that lead the humid maze Along the vale ; and thou, majestic main, A secret world of wonders in thyself ; Sound his stupendous praise, whose greater voice Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall. Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers, In mingled clouds to him, whose fun exalts, Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints, Ye forests bend, ye harvests wave to bim : Breathie your still fong into the reaper's heart, As home he goes beneath the joyous moon. Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams, Ye constellations, while your angels strike, Amid the spangled sky, the filver lyre. Great source of day! best image here below Of thy. Creator, ever pouring wide, From world to world, the vital ocean round, On Nature write with every beam his praise. The thunder rolls: be hulli'd the proftrate world, While cloud to cloud returns the folemn hymn. Bleat out afresh, ye hills : ye moily rocks, Retain the found : the broad responsive low, Ye valleys, raise ; for the great Shepherd reigns, And his unsuffering kingdoin yet will come. Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundless song Burft from the groves : and when the restless day, Expiring, lays the warbling world afleep, Sweeteit of birds! sweet Philomela, charm The listening thades, and teach the night his praise. Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles; At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all;



Crown the great hymn! In swarming cities vast,
Assembled men, to the deep organ'join
The long resounding voice, oft breaking clear?
At folemn pauses, thro' the fwelling base ;
And, as each mingling flame increases each,

united ardour rise to heaven.
Or if you rather chuse the rural fhade,
And find a fane in every sacred grove ;
There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre,
Still fing the God of Seasons as they roll.
For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the blossom blows, the summer ray
Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams ;
Or Winter rises in the blackening ealt;
Be my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more,
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat !

Should fate command me to the farthest verge
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes,
Rivers unknown to song ; where first the sun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam
Flames on th’ Atlantic isles.;--?tis nought to me;
Since God is ever present, ever felt,
In the void waste as in the city full;
And where He vital spreads there must be joy,
When even at last the solemn hour shall come,
And wing my myftic flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers,
Will rising wonders fing: I cannot go,
Where UNIVERSAL LOVE not smiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their fons:
From seeming Evil ftill educing Good,
And Better thence again, and Better flill,
In infinite progreffion. But I lose
Myself in Him, in LIGHT INEFFABLE !
Come then, expressive Silence, mult His praise.


R 2



I. The Cameleon.

FT has it been my lot to mark

A proud, conceited, talking spark,
Retorring from his finish'd tour,
Grown ten times perter than before :
Whatever word you chance to drop,
The travell’d fool your mouth will stop-

Sir, if my judgment you'll allow
I've seen--and sure I ought to know."'.
So begs you'd pay a due fubmiffion,
And acquiesce in his decision.

Two travellers of such a cast,
As o'er Arabia's wilds they pass’d,
And on their way, in friendly chat,
Now talk'd of this, and then of that ;
Discours'd a while, 'mongst other matter,
Of the Cameleon's form and nature.
" A stranger animal,” cries one,
* Sure never liv'd beneath the sun.:
A lizard's body lean and long,
A filh's head, a ferpent's tongue,
Its tooth with triple claw disjoin'd;
And what a length of tail behind!
How flow its pace! and then its hue-
Who ever saw so fine a blue !!!

" Hold there," the other quick replies.
“ 'Tis green : I saw it with these eyes,
As late with open mouth it lay,
And warm'd it in the funny ray:
Stretch'd at its ease the beast I view'd,
And saw it eat the air for food.

“ I've seen it, Sir, as well as you,
And must again affirm it blue.
At leisure I the beast survey'd,
Extended in the cooling shade.'

'Tis green, 'tis green, Sir, I assure ye"66 Green !” cries the other in a fury

66. Why

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