Goliath, might have feen his giant bulk

Whole, without ftooping, tow'ring creft and all,
My pleasures, too, begin. But me, perhaps,
The glowing hearth may fatisfy awhile
With faint illumination, that uplifts

The fhadow to the ceiling, there by fits
Dancing uncouthly to the quiv'ring flame.
Not undelightful is an hour to me

So fpent in parlour twilight: such a gloom
Suits well the thoughtful or unthinking mind,
The mind contemplative, with fome new theme
Pregnant, or indifpos'd alike to all.

Laugh ye, who boast your more mercurial pow'rs,
That never feel a ftupor, know no pause,
Nor need one; I am confcious, and confefs,
Fearless, a foul that does not always think.
Me oft has fancy, ludicrous and wild,
Sooth'd with a waking dream of houfes, tow'rs,
Trees, churches, and ftrange vifages, exprefs'd
In the red cinders, while with poring eye
I gaz'd, myfelf creating what I faw.
Nor lefs amus'd have I quiefcent watch'd
The footy films that play upon the bars,
Pendulous, and foreboding, in the view
Of fuperftition, prophefying still,

Though ftill deceiv'd, fome ftranger's near approach.

'Tis thus the understanding takes repofe

In indolent vacuity of thought,

And fleeps and is refresh'd. Meanwhile the face
Conceals the mood lethargic with a mask
Of deep deliberation, as the man

Were talk'd to his full strength, absorb'd and lost.
Thus oft, reclin'd at ease, I lose an hour
At ev'ning, till at length the freezing blast,
That fweeps the bolted shutter, fummons home
The recollected pow'rs; and fnapping short
The glaffy threads, with which the fancy weaves
Her brittle toys, reftores me to myself.
How calm is my recefs; and how the froft,
Raging abroad, and the rough wind, endear
The silence and the warmth enjoy'd within!
I saw the woods and fields, at close of day,
A variegated fhow; the meadows green,
Though faded; and the lands, where lately way'd
The golden harveft of a mellow brown,
Upturn'd fo lately by the forceful share.
I faw far off the weedy fallows fmile
With verdure not unprofitable, graz'd
By flocks, faft feeding, and felecting each
His fav'rite herb; while all the leaflefs groves,
That skirt th' horizon, wore a fable hue,
Scarce notic'd in the kindred dusk of eve.

To-morrow brings a change, a total change!
Which even now, though filently perform'd,
And flowly, and by moft unfelt, the face
Of univerfal nature undergoes.

Faft falls a fleecy fhow'r: the downy flakes,
Defcending, and with never-ceafing lapfe,
Softly alighting upon all below,
Affimilate all objects. Earth receives

Gladly the thick'ning mantle; and the green And tender blade, that fear'd the chilling blaft, Escapes unhurt beneath fo warm a veil.

In fuch a world; fo thorny, and where none Finds happiness unblighted; or, if found, Without fome thiftly forrow at its fide; It seems the part of wisdom, and no fin Against the law of love, to measure lots With lefs diftinguifh'd than ourselves; that thus We may with patience bear our mod'rate ills, And fympathife with others, fuff'ring more. Ill fares the trav'ller now, and he that stalks In pond'rous boots befide his reeking team. The wain goes heavily, impeded fore By congregated loads adhering close

To the clogg'd wheels; and in its fluggish pace, Noifelefs, appears a moving hill of fnow.

The toiling steeds expand the noftril wide,
While ev'ry breath, by refpiration strong
Forc'd downward, is confolidated foon

Upon their jutting chefts. He, form'd to bear
The pelting brunt of the tempeftuous night,
With half-fhut eyes, and pucker'd cheeks, and teeth
Prefented bare against the ftorm, plods on.
One hand fecures his hat, fave when with both
He brandishes his pliant length of whip,
Refounding oft, and never heard in vain.
Oh happy; and, in my account, denied
That fenfibility of pain with which
Refinement is endued, thrice happy thou!
Thy frame, robuft and hardy, feels indeed.
The piercing cold, but feels it unimpair'd.
The learned finger never need explore
Thy vig'rous pulfe; and the unhealthful eaft,
That breathes the spleen, and fearches ev'ry bone
Of the infirm, is wholesome air to thee.
Thy days roll on, exempt from household care;
Thy waggon is thy wife; and the poor beasts,
That drag the dull companion to and fro,
Thine helpless charge, dependent on thy care.
Ah, treat them kindly! rude as thou appear'st,
Yet fhow that thou haft mercy, which the great,

With needless hurry whirl'd from place to place, Humane as they would feem, not always fhow.

Poor, yet induftrious, modeft, quiet, neat; Such claim compaffion in a night like this, And have a friend in ev'ry feeling heart. Warm'd, while it lafts, by labour, all day long They brave the feason, and yet find at eve, Ill clad and fed but fparely, time to cool. The frugal housewife trembles when the lights Her fcanty stock of brufh-wood, blazing clear, But dying foon, like all terrestrial joys. The few small embers left fhe nurfes well; And, while her infant race, with outfpread hands And crowded knees, fit cow'ring o'er the fparks, Retires, content to quake, so they be warm'd. The man feels least, as more inur'd than she To winter, and the current in his veins More briskly mov'd by his feverer toil; Yet he, too, finds his own diftrefs in theirs. The taper foon extinguifh'd, which I faw Dangled along at the cold finger's end

Juft when the day declin'd, and the brown loaf Lodg'd on the fhelf, half-eaten without fauce Of fav'ry cheese, or butter, coftlier still;