Man in society is like a flow'r

Blown in its native bed; 'tis there alone

660

His faculties, expanded in full bloom,

Shine out; there only reach their proper use.

But man, associated and leagued with man

By regal warrant or self-join'd by bond
For int'rest sake, or swarming into clans
Beneath one head for purposes of war,

665

Like flow'rs selected from the rest, and bound

And bundled close to fill some crowded vase,
Fades rapidly, and, by compression marr'd,

Contracts defilement not to be endur'd.

670

Hence charter'd boroughs are such publick plagues
And burghers, men immaculate perhaps

In all their private functions, once combin❜d,

Become a loathsome body, only fit

675

For dissolution, hurtful to the main.
Hence merchants, unimpeachable of sin
Against the charities of domestick life,
Incorporated, seem at once to lose
Their nature; and, disclaiming all regard
For mercy and the common rights of man,

680

Build factories with blood, conducting trade

At the sword's point, and dying the white robe '
Of innocent commercial Justice red..

Hence, too, the field of glory, as the world

Misdeems it, dazzled by its bright array,

685

With all its majesty of thund'ring pomp,
Enchanting music, and immortal wreaths,

Is but a school, where thoughtlessness is taught
On principle, where foppery atones

For folly, gallantry for ev'ry vice.

690

But slighted as it is, and by the great

Abandon'd, and, which still I more regret,

Infected with the manners and the modes

It knew not once, the country wins me still.
I never fram'd a wish, or form'd a plan,
That flatter'd me with hopes of earthly bliss,

695

But there I laid the scene. There early stray'd

My fancy, ere yet liberty of choice

Had found me, or the hope of being free.

My very dreams were rural; rural too

700

The first-born efforts of my youthful muse,
Sportive and jingling her poetick bells,

Ere yet her ear was mistress of their pow'rs.

No bard could please me but whose lyre was tun'd
To Nature's praises. Heroes and their feats
Fatigu'd me never weary of the pipe

705

Of Tityrus, assembling, as he sang,

The rustick throng beneath his fav'rite beech.
Then Milton had indeed a poet's charms:

New to my taste, his Paradise surpass'd
The struggling efforts of my boyish tongue

710

To speak its excellence. I danc'd for joy.
I marvell'd much that, at so ripe an age

As twice seven years, his beauties had then first
Engag'd my wonder; and admiring still,

715

And still admiring, with regret suppos'd

The joy half lost, because not sooner found.
There, too, enamour'd of the life I lov'd,
Pathetick in its praise, in its pursuit

Determin'd and possessing it at last,

720

With transports such as favour'd lovers feel,

I studied, priz'd, and wish'd that I had known,

Ingenious Cowley! and, though now reclaim'd

725

By modern lights from an erroneous taste,

I cannot but lament thy splendid wit
Entangled in the cobwebs of the schools.
I still revere thee, courtly though retir'd;

Though stretch'd at case in Chertsey's silent bow'rs,
Not unemploy'd; and finding rich amends

For a lost world in solitude and verse.

"Tis born with all: the love of Nature's works

Is an ingredient in the compound man,

Infus'd at the creation of the kind.

And, though th' Almighty Maker has throughout

730

Discriminated each from each, by strokes
And touches of his hand, with so much art
Diversified, that two were never found
Twins at all points-yet this obtains in all
That all discern a beauty in his works,

735

And all can taste them: minds that have been form'd And tutor'd with a relish more exact,

741

But none without some relish, none unmov'd.

It is a flame that dies not even there,

Where nothing feeds it; neither business, crowds,
Nor habits of luxurious city life,

t

745

The glimpse of a green pasture, how they cheer

The citizen, and brace his languid frame!
E'en in the stifling bosom of the town

A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms
That soothe the rich possessor; much consol'd,
That here and there some sprigs of mournful mint
Of nightshade, or valerian, grace the well
He cultivates. These serve him with a hint
That Nature lives; that sight-refreshing green
Is still the liv'ry she delights to wear,

755

760

Though sickly samples of th' exub'rant whole.

What are the casements lin'd with creeping herbs,
The prouder sashes fronted with a range

Of orange, myrtle, or the fragrant weed,

The Frenchman's darling?* are they not all proofs,

And they that never pass their brick-wall bounds,

*Magnionette.

To range the fields, and treat their lungs with air,
Yet feel their burning instinct; over head
Suspend their crazy boxes planted thick,
An water'd duly. There the pitcher stands
A fragment, and the spoutless teapot there;
Sad witnesses how close-pent man regrets
The country, with what ardour he contrives
A peep at Nature, when he can no more.

Hail, therefore, patroness of health and ease,
And contemplation, heart-consoling joys,
And harmless pleasures in the throng'd abode
Of multitudes unknown! hail, rural life!
Address himself who will to the pursuit
Of honours, or emolument, or fame;
I shall not add myself to such a chase,
Thwart his attempts, or envy his success.
Some must be great. Great offices will have
Great talents. And God gives to ev'ry man
The virtue, temper, understanding, taste,
That lifts him into life, and lets him fall
(Just in the niche he was ordain'd to fill. >
To the deliv'rer of an injur'd land

775

780

785

790

He gives a tongue to enlarge upon, a heart
To feel, and courage to redress her wrongs;
To monarchs dignity; to judges sense;

795

To artists ingenuity and skill;

To me, an unambitious mind, content

In the low vale of life, that early felt

A wish for ease and leisure, and ere long
Found here that leisure and that ease I wish'd.

800

VOL. II.-9

THE TASK.

BOOK V.

THE WINTER MORNING WALK.

ARGUMENT OF THE FIFTH BOOK.

A frosty morning-The foddering of cattle-The woodman and his dog-The poultry-Whimsical effects of a frost at a waterfall-The empress of Russia's palace of ice-Amusement of monarchs-War, one of them-Wars, whence-And whence monarchy-The evils of it-English and French loyalty contrasted-The Bastile, and a prisoner there-Liberty the chief recommendation of this country-Modern patriotism questionable, and why-The perishable nature of the best human institutions-Spiritual liberty not perishable- The slavish state of man by nature-Deliver him, Deist, if you can-Grace must do it--The respective merits of patriots and martyrs stated-Their different treatment--Happy freedom of the man whom grace makes free--His relish of the works of God -Address to the Creator.

'TIS morning; and the sun with ruddy orb
Ascending, fires the horizon; while the clouds
That crowd away before the driving wind,
More ardent as the disk emerges more,
Resemble most some city in a blaze,

Seen through the leafless wood. His slanting ray
Slides ineffectual down the snowy vale,

And tinging all with his own rosy hue,
From ev'ry herb and ev'ry spiry blade
Stretches a length of shadow o'er the field.
Mine spindling into longitude immense,
In spite of gravity, and sage remark

10