AND IMAGINATION. 



Lo ! where yon vale unfolds its pictur'd site, 

 And meads and cornfields mix their gay attire ; 



Sheep-cots and herds, and sprinlcled cottage white, 

 Stream, busy mill, deep wood, and tutted spire. 



Can ermin'd guilt, when every scheme succeeds, 

 Feel half ihejoy that stirs your generous breast, 



As, pleas'd, ye ponder o'er these simple meads, 

 Compute their charms, and share their balmy resti 



And mark, untouch'd by city broils, the reign 

 Of rural comfort, cheerfulness, and ease ; 



Of health, embloom'd from every sweet-brier lane, 

 And faith and morals wholesome as the breeze. 



Go — climb yon castled cliff that meets the sky, 

 And tells of times tradition cannot reach; 



And o'er the ruins, as ye throw your eye, 



Of rocks and towers, with many a hoary breach, 



Say — ^does the wreck of nature and of art, 

 The wild cascade, and echo undefin'd, 



The grandeur, and the solitude impart 

 No pleasing train of image to the mind T 



Or would ye change, for all that wealth can stake, 

 Ambition's plume, or lawless Pleasure's prime, 



The feelings, then, that through the bosom wake, 

 And rouse the soul to ecstasies sublime 1 



Yet these — and countless sympathies like these. 

 Of purest zest, are yours, and yours alone: 



Guilt knows them not, nor dull unwieldy Ease, 

 For Sensibility and Taste are one. 



And well, thus gifted, may ye bear the thrill 



Of social sorrows and idea! wrong ; 

 Th' Eolian hatp that heaven's pure breezes fill, 



Must breathe, at times, a melancholy song. 



THE END. 



