Faft by the ftar of ev'ning glow, to grace
The crimfon exit of departing day;
And ever with affection hails her beam,
Whether her kindled cheek appear on high,
As tranquil twilight dwindles, half illumed,
And, weftward tending, down the steep of heaven
The chariot of retreating day pursue,
Or full-faced meet him on yon eastern bill,
Veiled if the fun be prefent, or with meek
Uncurtain'd afpect if his orb be funk.
Or whether, with reverted horn, her bow
Look eastward as the break of morning dawns,
And hide its flender elegance, abashed
At the bright egrefs of effulgent day.
Yes, the fond poet can with joy behold
Eve's dappled vefture in the rofy beam
Twice-dyed, and with the ruddier hues of light
In fold and border saturated well;
A rich illuminated crimson stole
With fanguine furbelow of molten gold.
With equal transport views his cheerful eye
The cloud of morning fhot with purple streaks;
Nor void of exftacy obferves on high
The fleece of filver in which decent night
Scarce veils her fmiling orb, betraying oft
Through its dishevelled border tranfient glimpfe
Of the pure ftudded azure, or sweet day
Of moonbeam unreftrained. Some tafte of bliss
May happily be derived from lurid night,
In difmal weeds of faddeft forrow dressed,
And fhedding fast from her maternal eye
Afflicted widowhood's celeftial tear,
If unexpected the rent cloud difplay
The pure cerulean cupola of heaven,
With dewy gems ferene of ev'ry fize
And ev'ry luftre fowed, not faint, nor few,
As when the horned moon fhines clear, but bright
And numberlefs as the well-winnowed grain
The ploughman fcatters, or the filky fall
Of the foft vernal fhow'r that bids it spring,
Or dew-drops cherishing autumnal meads.
Sometimes the whirlwind's eddy let me fee
The highway march, and with cylindric tube
The worried duft inhaling lift it high,
A turbid vortex, fwelling as it mounts,
And foon difpersed in the wide field of heaven:
Anon the candent thunderbolt delights,
That tears the bofom of the fultry cloud,
And from its watery lap prone deluge sheds.
Let the tempestuous angel quit his hold
Upon the fwealing fork, and pour fublime
His thund'ring volley through the deep of heaven.
With vivid repetition gleam the flash,
And ever, as it kindles, fally forth,
Abrupt and ruinous, the rolling peal,
As if, by lightning lafh'd, at ev'ry blaze
Shot forth a chariot from the throne of heaven,
And headlong bounded o'er the cloudy wafte.
The ftorm fubfided, and fair day returned,
Up to yon fummit, that with haughty grace
Its wither'd turban wears of perish'd heath,
On its rude forehead, filleted around,
Bearing diftinct the trench of ancient war,
With flow and painful footsteps let me climb.
At length afcended, on the central mount,
Erewhile perhaps the military throne
Of fome proud monarch, and the spot revered
Whence the pavilion'd conqueror furveyed
His tented hoft around him, loft awhile
And mufing let me ftand, to think, Where now
The leader and his army? prey alike
To the none-fparing appetite of Time.
Then let me feed with never-fated eye
Upon the downy profpect wide out-spread.
It fhall not grieve me if the guft be free,
And to withstand its overbearing gale
I lean upon the tide of air unfeen.
For pleasant then across the vale below
Fleet the thin fhadows of the fever'd cloud,
Unwearied race performing. The blue deep
Wears wrinkled laughter, and exulting bounds
The fhore along, with fycophantic air
Welcoming fashion to her loved retreat
Yon diftant fteeple, where the fits and smiles
And dips her foot into the wholesome wave.
[From the FARMER'S BOY, a Rural Poem, by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD.]
ERE, midft the boldest triumphs of her worth,
Nature herself invites the reapers forth;
Dares the keen fickle from its twelvemonth's reft,
And gives that ardour which in every breast
From infancy to age alike appears,
When the first fheaf its plumy top uprears.
No rake takes here what Heaven to all bestows-
Children of want, for you the bounty flows!
And every cottage from the plenteous ftore
Receives a burden nightly at its door.
Hark! where the fweeping fcythe now rips along:
Each sturdy mower emulous and strong;
Whofe writhing form meridian heat defies,
Bends o'er his work, and every finew tries;
Proftrates the waving treasure at his feet,
But fpares the rifing clover, fhort and fweet.
Come, Health! come, Joliity! light-footed, come;
Here hold your revels, and make this your home.
Each heart awaits and hails you as its own;
Each moiften'd brow, that fcorns to wear a frown:
Th' unpeopled dwelling mourns its tenants stray'd;
E'en the domeftic laughing dairy maid
Hies to the field, the general toil to fhare.
Meanwhile the Farmer quits his elbow.chair,
His cool brick-floor, his pitcher, and his ease,
And braves the fultry beams, and gladly fees
His gates thrown open, and his team abroad,
The ready group attendant on his word,
To turn the fwarth, the quiv'ring load to rear,
Or ply the bufy rake, the land to clear.
Summer's light garb itself now cumb'rous grown,
Each his thin doublet in the fhade throws down;
Where oft the mastiff fculks with half-fhut eye,
And roufes at the ftranger paffing by;
Whilft unreftrain'd the focial converfe flows,
And every breast Love's powerful impulfe knows,
And rival wits with more than rustic grace
Confefs the prefence of a pretty face.
For, lo! encircled there, the lovely maid,
In youth's own bloom and native smiles array'd;
Her hat awry, divefted of her gown,
Her creaking ftays of leather, ftout and brown ;-
Invidious barrier! why art thou so high,
When the flight covering of her neck flips by,
There half revealing to the eager fight
Her full ripe bofor, exquifitely white?
In many a local tale of harmless mirth,
And many a jeft of momentary birth,
She bears a part, and, as fhe stops to speak,
Strokes back the ringlets from her glowing cheek.
Now noon gone by, and four declining hours,
The weary limbs relax their boafted pow'rs;
Thirst rages ftrong, the fainting fpirits fail,
And afk the fov'reign cordial, home-brew'd ale:
Beneath some shelt'ring heap of yellow corn
Refts the hoop'd keg, and friendly cooling horn,
That mocks alike the goblet's brittle frame,
Its costlier potions, and its nobier name.
To Mary first the brimming draught is given
By toil made welcome as the dews of heaven,
And never lip that prefs'd its homely edge
Had kinder bleffings or a heartier pledge.
Of wholesome viands here a banquet fmiles,
A common cheer for all;-e'en humble Giles,
Who joys his trivial services to yield
Amidit the fragrance of the open field;
Oft doom'd in fuffocating heat to bear
The cobweb'd barn's impure and dufty air;
To ride in murky ftate the panting steed,
Deftin'd aloft th' unloaded grain to tread,
Where, in his path as heaps on heaps are thrown,
He rears and plunges the loofe mountain down:
Laborious talk! with what delight when done
Both horse and rider greet th' unclouded fun!
PICTURE of a DISTRACTED YOUNG WOMAN,
TITHER at times, with cheerfulness of soul,
Sweet village maids from neighbouring hamlets ftroll
Who, like the light-heel'd does o'er lawns that rove,
Look fhyly curious, rip'ning into love;
For love's their errand: hence the tints that glow
On either cheek, an heighten'd luftre know:
When, confcious of their charms, e'en Age looks fly,
And rapture beams from Youth's obfervant eye.
The pride of fuch a party, Nature's pride,
Was lovely Poll*; who innocently try'd,
With hat of airy fhape and ribbons gay,
Love to infpire, and stand in Hymen's way:
But, ere her twentieth Summer could expand,
Or youth was render'd happy with her hand,"
Her mind's ferenity was loft and gone,
Her eye grew languid, and the wept alone;
Yet caufelefs feem'd her grief; for quick reftrain'd,
Mirth follow'd loud, or indignation reign'd:
Whims wild and fimple led her from her home;
The heath, the common, or the fields to roam:
Terror and Joy alternate rul'd her hours;
1 Now blithe the fung, and gather'd ufelefs flow'rs;
* Mary Rayner, of Ixworth Thorp.
Now pluck'd a tender twig from every bough,
To whip the hov'ring demons from her brow.
Ill-fated maid! thy guiding spark is fled,
And lafting wretchednefs awaits thy bed-
Thy bed of ftraw! for mark, where even now
O'er their loft child afflicted parents bow;
Their woe the knows not, but perversely coy,
Inverted cuftoms yield her fullen joy;
Her midnight meals in fecrecy fhe takes,
Low mutt'ring to the moon, that rifing breaks
Through night's dark gloom :-oh how much more forlorn
Her night, that knows of no returning dawn!-
Slow from the threshold, once her infant feat,
O'er the cold earth the crawls to her retreat;
Quitting the cot's warm walls unhous'd to lie,
Or fhare the fwine's impure and narrow sty;
The damp night air her fhiv'ring limbs affails;
In dreams fhe moans, and fancied wrongs bewails.
When morning wakes, none earlier rous'd than she,
When pendent drops fall glitt'ring from the tree;
But nought her raylefs melancholy cheers,
Or foothes her breaft, or ftops her ftreaming tears.
Her matted locks unornamented flow;
Clafping her knees, and waving to and fro;-
Her head bow'd down, her faded cheek to hide;~
A piteous mourner by the pathway fide.
Some tufted molehill through the livelong day
She calls her throne; there weeps her life away:
And oft the gaily paffing ftranger stays
His well-tim'd ftep, and takes a filent
gaze,
Till fympathetic drops unbidden start,
And pangs quick springing mufter round his heart;
And foft he treads with other gazers round,
And fain would catch her forrow's plaintive found:
One word alone is all that ftrikes the ear,
One fhort, pathetic, fimple word," Oh dear!”
A thousand times repeated to the wind,
That wafts the figh, but leaves the pang behind!
For ever of the proffer'd parly fhy,
She hears th' unwelcome foot advancing nigh;
Nor quite unconscious of her wretched plight,
Gives one fad look, and hurries out of fight.—
Fair promis'd funbeams of terreftrial bliss,
Health's gallant hopes, and are ye funk to this ?
For in life's road though thorns abundant grow,
There ftill are joys poor Poll can never know;
Joys which the gay companions of her prime
Sip, as they drift along the stream of time;
At eve to hear befile their tranquil home-
The lifted latch, that speaks the lover come:
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