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The burning line or dares the wintry pole;
Nor to this evanescent speck of earth
În wayward passions lost, and vain pursuits,
The subject proposed.---Addressed to Mr. Onslow..--A prospect of the
helds ready for harvest.. --Reflections in praise of industry raised by that view.-Reaping. A tale relative to it.-A harvest storm.Shooting and hunting their barbarity..--A ludicrous account of fox. hunting.—A view of an orchard.—Wall-fruit. --A vineyard.-A deseription of fogs, frequent in the latter part of Autumn; whence a de. gression, inquiring into the rise of fountains and rivers.-Birds of season considered, that now shift their habitation. The prodigious number of them that cover the northern and western isles of Scot. land.---Hence a view of the country.--A prospect of the discoloured fading woods.---After a gentle dusky day, moon-light.---Autumnal meteors.---Morning to which succeeds a calm, pure, sun-shiny day, such as usually shuts up the season.---The harvest being gathered in, the country dissolved in joy---The whole concludes with a panegyric ou a philosophical country life.
Crown's with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
Onslow ! the Muse, ambitious of thy name, To grace, inspire, and dignify her song,
10 Would from the Public Voice thy gentle ear A while engage. Thy noble cares she knows, The patriot virtues that distend thy thought, Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow; While listening senates hang upon thy tongue, 15 Devolving thro’ the inaze of eloquence A roll of periods, sweeter than her song. But she too pants for public virtue, she, Tho' weak of power, yet strong in ardent will, Whene’er her country rushes on her heart, 20 Assumes a bolder note, and fondly tries To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame.
When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days, And Libra weighs in equal scales the year ; From heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook Of parting Summer, a serener blue,
26 With golden light enlivened, wide invests The happy world. Attemper'd suns arise, Sweet-beam'd, and shedding oft thro’ lucid clouds A pleasing calm ; while broad, and brown, below 30 Extensive harvests hang the heavy head. Rich, silent, deep, they stand; for not a gale Rolls its light billows o’er the bending plain : A calm of plenty! till the ruffled air Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow. 35 Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky; The clouds fly different and the sudden sun By fits effulgent gilds th’ illumin’d field, And black by fits the shadows sweep along, A gaily-checker'd heart-expanding view,
Far as the circling eye can shoot around,
These are thy blessings, Industry ! rough power! Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain ; Yet the kind source of every gentle art,
45 And all the soft civility of life: Raiser of human kind ! by Nature cast, Naked, and helpless, out amid the woods And wilds, to rude inclement elements; With various seeds of art deep in the mind 50 Implanted, and profusely pour'd around Materials infinite; but idle all. Still unexerted, in th' unconscious breast, Slept the lethargic powers; corruption still, Voracious, swallowed what the liberal hand 55. Of bounty scatter'd o’er the savage year : And still the sad barbarian, roving, mix'd With beasts of prey ! or for his acorn-meal Fought the fierce tusky boar; a shiv’ring wretch! Aghast, and comfortless when the bleak north, 60 With Winter charg'd, let the mix’d tempest fly, Hail, rain, and snow, and bitter-breathing frost: Then to the shelter of the hut he fled; And the wild season, sordid, pin’d away. For home he had not; home is the resort
65 Of love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where, Supporting and supported, polished friends And dear relations mingle into bliss. But this the rugged savage never felt, Even desolate in crowds; and thus his days 70 Rolld heavy, dark, and unenjoy'd along : A waste of time! till Industry approach’d,