ODES. 147 



Where no thin vapour interceiDts thj ray, 



But in unclouded majesty thou walkest on thy way. 



Pleasing 'tis, modest moon ! 

 Now the night is at her noon, 

 'Neath thy sway to musing lie, 

 While around the zephyrs sigh, 

 Fanning soft the sun-tann'd wheat, 

 Ripen'd by the summer's heat ; 

 Picturing all the rustic's joy 

 When boundless plenty greets his cyo, 



And thinking soon, 



Oh, modest Moon ! 

 How many a female eye will roam 



Along the road. 



To see the load, 

 The last dear load of harvest home. 



Storms and tempests floods and rains, 



Stern despoilers of the plains, 



Hence away, the season flee, 



Foes to light-heart jollity ; 



]\Iay no winds careering high, 



Drive the clouds along the sky ; 

 But may all nature smile with aspect hoon, 

 AVhen in the heavens thou show'st thy face, Oh, Harvest 

 Moon ! 



'Neath yon lowly roof he lies, 



The husbandman, wath sleep -seal'd eyes ; 



He dreams of crowded barns, and round 



The yard he hears the flail resound ; 



Oh ! may no hurricane destroy 



His visionary views of joy. 

 God of the wdnds ! oh, hear his humble prayer, 

 And while the moon of harvest shines, thy blust'ring 

 "whirlwind spare. 



Sons of luxury to you 



Leave I sleep's dull power to woo, 



