O HARTFORD! fitted or to shine in courts

With unaffected grace, or walk the plain
With innocence and meditation join'd

In soft assemblage, listen to my song,
Which thy own Season paints; when Nature all
Is blooming and benevolent, like thee.

AND see where surly WINTER passes off,
Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts;
His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill,
The shatter'd forest, and the ravag'd vale ;

While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch, 15 Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost,

The mountains lift their green heads to the sky.

As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd,

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And WINTER oft at eve resumes the breeze;
Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets
Deform the day delightless; so that scarce
The bittern knows his time, with bill ungulpht
To shake the sounding marsh; or from the shore
The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath,
And sing their wild notes to the listening waste. 25
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,

Lifts the light clouds sublime; and spreads them thin, 30
Fleecy and white, o'er all-surrounding heaven.

FORTH fly the tepid airs; and unconfin'd, Unbinding earth, the moving softness strays. Joyous, th' impatient husbandman perceives

Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers

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Drives from their stalls, to where the well-us'd plough
Lies in the furrow, loosened from the frost ;
There, unrefusing, to the harness'd yoke
They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil,
Cheer'd by the simple song and soaring lark.
Meanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share

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The master leans, removes th' obstructing clay, Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the glebe. WHITE thro' the neighb'ring fields the sower stalks, With measur'd step; and liberal throws the grain 45 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; Ye softening dews! ye tender showers! descend; 50 And temper all, thou world-reviving sun!

Into the perfect year.

In luxury and ease, in

Nor ye who live

pomp and pride,

Think these lost themes unworthy of your ear:
Such themes as these the rural MARO sung
To wide-imperial ROME, in the full height
Of elegance and taste, by GREECE refin’d.

B 2

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In antient times, the sacred plough employ'd The kings, and aweful fathers of mankind.

And some, with whom compar'd your insect tribes 60

Are but the beings of a summer's day,

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

The plough, and greatly independent liv'd.

Ye generous BRITONS, venerate the plough; And o'er your hills, and long-withdrawing vales, Let Autumn spread his treasures to the sun, 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,
Exuberant, Nature's better bleffings pour
O'er every land; the naked nations cloathe ;
And be th' exhaustless granary of a world.

NOR only thro' the lenient air, this change
Delicious breathes; the penetrative sun,
His force deep-darting to the dark retreat
Of vegetation, sets the steaming Power
At large, to wander o'er the vernant earth,
In various hues; but chiefly thee, gay Green!
Thou smiling Nature's universal robe !

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United light and shade! where the sight dwells
With growing strength, and ever new delight.

FROM the moist meadow to the withered hill,

Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs ;
And swells, and deepens, to the cherish'd eye.
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 thro' the twining brake,
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
Lies yet a little embryo, unperceiv'd,

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Within its crimson folds. Now from the town 100

Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps,

Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields,

Where freshness breathes; and dash the trembling drops 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 diffus'd around,

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One boundless blush; one white-empurpled shower Of mingled bloffoms; where the raptur'd eye IIO

Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath
The fair profusion, yellow Autumn spies.

IF, brush'd from RUSSIAN wilds, a cutting gale
Rise not, and scatter from his humid wings
The clammy mildew; or, dry-blowing, breathe 115
Untimely frost; before whofe baleful blast
The full-blown Spring thro' all her foliage shrinks,
Joyless and dead, a wide-dejected waste.
For oft, engender'd by the hazy North,
Myriads on myriads, insect armies warp
Keen in the poison'd breeze; and wasteful eat,
Thro' buds and bark, into the blacken'd core,
Their eager way. A feeble race! yet oft

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The sacred sons of vengeance; on whose course
Corrosive famine waits, and kills the year.
To check this plague, the skilful farmer chaff
And blazing straw before his orchard burns;
Till, all involv'd in smoke, the latent foe
From every cranny suffocated falls :

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Or scatters o'er the blooms the pungent dust

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Of pepper, fatal to the frosty tribe :

Or, when th' envenom'd leaf begins to curl,

With sprinkled water drowns them in their nest;
Nor, while they pick them up with busy bill,

The little trooping birds unwisely scares.

Be patient, swains; these cruel seeming winds

Blow not in vain. Far hence they keep repress'd

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