24 THE ENGLISH GARDEN. 



Marfhaird each rofe, that to the eye of June 



Spreads its peculiar crimfon ; do not err, 



The lovelieft ftill is wanting; the frefh rofe 



Of Innocence, it blofibms on their cheek, 425 



And, lo, to thee they bear it ! driving each, 



In panting race, who firft mall reach the lawn, 



Proud to be call'd thy fhepherds. Want, alas ! 



Has o'er their little limbs her livery hung, 



In many a tatter'd fold, yet ftill thofe limbs 430 



Are fhapely ; their rude locks ftart from their brow, 



Yet, on that open brow, its deareft throne, 



Sits fweet Simplicity. Ah, clothe the troop 



In fuch a rulfet garb as heft befits 



Their, paftoral office; let the leathern fcrip 435 



Swing at their fide, tip thou their crook with fteel, 



And braid their hat with rumes, then to each 



Aflign his ftation ; at the clofe of eve, 



Be it their care to pen in hurdled cote 



The flock, and when the matin prime returns, 440 



Their care to fet them free ; yet watching ftill 



The 



