426 



PICTURESQUE 



IMPROVEMENT, 



BOOK I. 



And hie to where the cloud of battle lowers, 

 And Havoc, purple wing'd, o'ershades the path : 



In Glory's wild pursuit strain all their powers, 

 And chase the phantom to the gates of Death ; 

 What time Ambition pours the vial of her wrath : 



For me — when I this primrose path resign, 



Round which the balmy-breathing south wind plays ; 

 Where the wild bees their honied sweets refine, 



And murmur soft their little fairy lays : 



When with a lover's eye I cease to gaze 

 On Nature's charms, though rob'd in simple stole, 



For Pomp, for Honour's meretricious blaze 

 May Joy desert the Seasons as they roll, 

 And Pleasure ever be a stranger to my soul ! 



O ! is there, Nature, in thy widest range, 



That boasts the breath of life from gracious Heav'n, 

 And man's similitude, that would exchange 



Thy pure delights, for all that wealth has given ? 



From the bright train that gems the brow of even, 

 His gaze averting, far away could start, 



To watch and worship by wild passions driven, 

 Their image glittering near a villain's heart, 

 And tread, with such, the rounds of infamy and art ? 



Carey's Pleasures of Nature. 



