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Hay-making.

The ruthless pike, intent on war;
The silver eel, and mottled par.
Devolving from their parent lake,
A charming maze thy waters make,
By bowers of birch, and groves of pine,
And hedges flower'd with eglantine.
Still on thy banks so gaily green,

May num'rous herds and flocks be seen,
And lasses chanting o'er the pail,
And shepherds piping in the dale,
And ancient faith that knows no guile,
And industry embrown'd with toil,
And hearts resolved, and hands prepared,
The blessings they enjoy to guard!

73

SMOLLET.

HAY-MAKING.

WHEN the fresh spring in all her state is crown'd,
And high luxuriant grass o'erspreads the ground,
The lab'rer with the bending scythe is seen,
Shaving the surface of the waving green,
Of all her native pride disrobes the land,
And meads lays waste before his sweeping hand;

H

While

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While with the mounting sun the meadow glows,
The fading herbage round he loosely throws.
But if some sign portend a lasting shower,
Th' experienc'd swain foresees the coming hour;
His sun-burnt hands the scatt'ring fork forsake,
And ruddy damsels ply the saving rake;
In rising hills the fragrant harvest grows,
And spreads along the field in equal rows.

GAY.

NOON.

WHEN heifers seek the shade and cooling lake,
And in the middle pathway basks the snake;
O lead me, guard me, from the sultry hours!
Hide me, ye forests, in your closest bowers!
Where the tall oak his spreading arms entwines,
And with the beech a mutual shade combines ;
Where flows the murm'ring brook, inviting
dreams,

Where bordering hazel overhangs the streams,
Whose rolling current winding round and round,
With frequent falls makes all the wood resound;
Upon the
mossy couch my limbs I cast,

And e'n at noon the sweets of ev'ning taste.

GAY.

To a Hedge-Sparrow.

75

TO A HEDGE-SPARROW.

LITTLE flutt'rer! swiftly flying,
Here is none to harm thee near;
Kite nor hawk nor school-boy prying;
Little flutt'rer! cease to fear.

One who would protect thee ever
From the school-boy, kite and hawk,
Musing, now obtrudes, but never
Dreamt of plunder in his walk.

He no weasel stealing slily
Would permit thy eggs to take;
Nor the pole-cat, nor the wily
Adder, nor the writhed snake.

May no cuckow wandering near thee

Lay her egg within thy nest,
Nor thy young ones, born to cheer thee,
Be destroy'd by such a guest!

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76

The Approach of a Storm.

Little flutt'rer! swiftly flying,

Here is none to harm thee near;

Kite nor hawk, nor school-boy prying;
Little flutt'rer! cease to fear.

ANTHOLOGY.

THE APPROACH OF A STORM.

ERE yet the rising winds begin to roar,
The working seas advance to wash the shore:
Soft whispers run along the leafy woods,

And mountains whistle to the murm'ring floods:
Ev'n then the doubtful billows scarce abstain
From the tost vessel on the troubled main,
When crying cormorants forsake the sea,
And stretching to the covert wing their way;
When sportful coots run skimming o'er the strand;
When watchful herons leave their wat❜ry stand,
And, mounting upward with erected flight,
Gain on the skies and soar above the sight.
And oft before tempestuous winds arise,
The seeming stars fall headlong from the skies,
And, shooting thro' the darkness, gild the night
With sweeping glories and long trails of light:

And

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And chaff with eddy winds is whirl'd around,
And dancing leaves are lifted from the ground;
And floating feathers on the waters play.
But when the winged thunder takes his way
From the cold north, and east and west engage,
And at their frontiers meet with equal rage,
The clouds are crush'd, a flood of gather'd rain
ain
The hollow ditches fills, and floats the plain,
And sailors furl their dropping sheets amain.

DRYDEN.

THE HUNTSMAN..

THE huntsman with merry-ton'd horn
Bids valleys and mountains resound,
And early goes out in the morn

To chase the fleet hare o'er the ground:

With him through thick woodlands I fly,
Through dangers, wild rivers, and rocks;
While musical hounds in full cry

Run swift in pursuit of the fox.

WILLIAMS.

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