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But come, ye generous minds, in whole wide thought,
Of all his works, CREATIVE BOUNTY burns
With warmest beam; and on your open front
And liberal eye, fits, from his dark retreat
Inviting modeft want. Nor, till invok'd,
Can reftlefs goodness wait; your active search
Leaves: no cold wintry corner unexplor❜d;
Like filent-working HEAVEN, furprising oft
The lonely heart with unexpected good..
For you the roving fpirit of the wind

Blows fpring abroad; for you the teeming clouds
Defcend in gladsome plenty o'er the world:
And the fun sheds his kindeft rays for you,
Ye flower of human race! In these green days,
Reviving Sickness lifts her languid head;
Life flows afresh; and young-eyed Health exalts
The whole creation round. Contentment walks
The funny glade, and feels an inward blifs
Spring o'er his mind, beyond the power of kings
To purchase. Pure ferenity apace
Induces thought, and contemplation ftill.
By swift degrees the love of nature works,
And warms the bofom: till at laft fublim'd
To rapture, and enthusiastic heat,

We feel the present DEITY, and taste
The joy of God to see a happy world..

THOMSON

SECT

SE C T. LXXVIII.

ON THE WORKS OF GOD.

WITH what an awful world-revolving power

Were firft th' unwieldy planets launch'd along

Th' illimitable void! Thus to remain,

Amid the flux of many thousand years,

That oft has swept the toiling race of men,
And all their labour'd monuments away,
Firm, unremitting, matchless, in their course;
To the kind-temper'd change of night and day,
And of the feafons ever stealing round,

Minutely faithful: Such TH' ALL PERFECT HAND?
That pois'd, impels, and rules the steady WHOLE.
How fhall I then attempt to fing of HIM!
Who, LIGHT HIMSELF, in uncreated light
Invefted deep, dwells awfully retir'd
From mortal eye, or angel's purer ken;
Whofe fingle smile has from the first of time
Fill'd, overflowing, all tho fe lamps of heaven,
That beam for ever thro' the boundless fky:
But fhould he hide his face, th' astonish'd fun,
And all th' extinguifh'd ftars, would loofening reel
Wide from their spheres, and chaos come again.
And yet was every faultering tongue of man,
ALMIGHTY FATHER! filent in thy praife;
Thy works themfelves would raife a general voice,
Even in the depth of folitary woods

By human foot untrod; proclaim thy power,
And to the choir celeftial Thee refound,
Th' eternal caufe, support, and end of all.

2

THOMSON

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A DESCRIPTION OF THE BRITISH LADIES.

MAY my fong foften, as thy daughters I,

Britannia, hail 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 cheek,
Where the live crimson, thro' the native white,
Soft fhooting, o'er the face diffuses bloom,
And every nameless grace; the parted lip,
Like the red rofe-bud moift with morning-dew,
Breathing delight, and, under flowing jet,
Or funny ringlets, or of circling brown,
The neck flight-shaded, and the swelling breast ;
The look refiftless, piercing to the foul,
And by the foul inform'd, when drest in love
She fits high-fmiling in the confcious eye.

THOMSON.

SECT. LXXX.

ON THE STRENGTH OF GREAT BRITAIN.

ISLAND of blifs! amid the subject feas
That thunder round thy rocky coafts, fet up
At once the wonder, terror, and delight,
Of distant nations, whose remotest shores
Can foon be fhaken by thy naval arm;
Nor to be shook thyself, but all affaults
Baffling, as thy hoar cliffs the loud sea wave.

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Thou! by whofe almighty nod the scale
Of empire rifes, or alternate falls,

Send forth the faving VIRTUES round the land
In bright patrole: white Peace, and focial Love;
The tender looking Charity, intent

On gentle deeds, and fhedding tears through fmiles;
Undaunted Truth, and Dignity of mind;

Courage compos'd, and keen; found Temperance,
Healthful in heart and look; clear Chaftity,
With blushes reddening as fhe moves along,
Disorder'd at the deep regard fhe draws:
Rough Industry; Activity untir'd
With copious life inform'd, and all awake;
While in the radiant front, fuperior shines
The first paternal virtue, public zeal;
Who throws o'er all an equal wide furvey,
And, ever
mufing on the common weal,
Still labours glorious with fome great defign.

THOMSON

SE C T. LXXXI.

ON THE HAPPINESS OF A RURAL LIFE.

H knew he but his happiness, of men

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The happieft he! who far from public rage, Deep in the vale, with a choice few retir'd,

Drinks the pure pleasures of the rural life.

What tho' the dome be wanting, whose proud gate, Each morning, vomits out the fneaking crowd Of flatterers falfe, and in their turn abus’d? Vile intercourfe! What tho' the glittering robe.

Of

Of every hue reflected light can give,
Or floating loose, or ftiff with mazy gold,
The pride and gaze of fools! opprefs him not?
What tho', from utmost land and sea purvey❜d,
For him each rarer tributary life

1

Bleeds not, and his infatiate table heaps
With luxury and death? What tho' his bowl
Flames not with coftly juice; nor funk in beds,
Oft of gay care, he toffes out the night,
Or melts the thoughtless hours in idle ftate?
What tho' he knows not those fantastic joys,
That still amuse the wanton, ftill deceive;
A face of pleasure, but a heart of pain;
Their hollow moments undelighted all?
Sure peace is his; a folid life, eftrang'd
To disappointment, and fallacious hope:
Rich in content, in nature's bounty rich,
In herbs and fruits; whatever greens
the Spring,
When heaven defcends in showers, or bends the bough
When Summer reddens, and when Autumn beams;
Or in the wintry glebe whatever lies

Conceal'd, and fattens with the richest sap:
These are not wanting, nor the milky drove,
Luxuriant, fpread o'er all the lowing vale;
Nor bleating mountains, nor the chide of ftreams,
-And hum of bees, inviting fleep fincere
Into the guiltless breaft, beneath the fhade,
Or thrown at large amid the fragrant hay;
Nor aught befide of profpect, grove or fong,
Dim grottoes, gleaming lakes, and fountain clear.
Here too dwells fimple truth; plain innocence;
Unfullied beauty; found unbroken youth,

Patient

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