408 
POEMS. 
The pointed spire, the hall, the pasture-plain, 
The russet fallow, or the golden grain, 
The breezy lake that sheds a gleaming light. 
Till all the fading picture fail the sight. 
Each to his task ; all different ways retire, 
Cull the dry stick ; call forth the seeds of fire ; 
Deep fix the kettle's props, a forky row. 
Or give with fanning hat the breeze to blow. 
Whence is this taste, the furnish'd hall forgot. 
To feast in gardens, or th' unhandy grot ? 
Or novelty with some new charms surprizes, 
Or from our very shifts some joy arises. 
Hark, while below the village-bells ring round, 
Echo, sweet nymph, returns the soften' d sound ; 
But if gusts rise, the rushing forests roar. 
Like the tide tumbling on the pebbly shore. 
Adown the vale, in lone, sequester' d nook, 
Where skirting woods imbrown the dimpling brpok, 
The ruin'd Convent lies ; here wont to dwell 
The lazy canon midst his cloister' d cell ;* 
While papal darkness brooded o'er the land, 
Ere reformation made her glorious stand : 
Still oft at eve belated shepherd-swains 
See the cowl'd spectre skim the folded plains. 
To the high temple would my stranger go ?t 
The mountain-brow commands the woods below ; 
In Jewry first this order found a name, 
When madding Croisades set the world in flame ; 
When western climes, urg'd on by Pope and priest, 
Pour'd forth their millions o'er the deluged east ; 
Luxurious knights, ill suited to defy 
To mortal fight Turcestan chivalry. 
Nor be the Parsonage by the muse forgot ; 
The partial bard admires his native spot ; 
Smit with its beauties, loved, as yet a child, 
(Unconscious why) its scapes grotesque, and wild. 
High on a mound th' exalted gardens stand. 
Beneath, deep valleys scoop'd by nature's hand. 
A Cobham here, exulting in his art. 
Might blend the General's with the Gardener's part ; 
* The ruins of a priory, founded by Peter de Rupibus Bishop of Winchester. 
t The remains of a preceptory of the Knights Templars; at least it was a farm dependant 
upon some preceptory of that order. I find it was a preceptory, called the preceptory of Suding- 
ton ; now called Southington. 
