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By slow solicitation, seize at once
The roving thought, and fix it on themselves,

What prodigies can Pow'r Divine perform More grand than it produces year by year, And all in light of inattentive man? Familiar with th' effect we flight the cause, And, in the constancy of nature's course, The regular return of genial months, And renovation of a faded world, See nought to wonder at. Should God again, As once in Gibeon, interrupt the race Of the undeviating and punctual fun, How would the world admire ! but speaks it less An agency divine, to make him know His moment when to sink and when to rise, Age after age, than to arrest his course? All we behold is miracle ; but, seen So duly, all is miracle in vain. Where now the vital energy that mov’d, While summer was, the pure and subiile lymph Through th' imperceptible meand'ring veins, Of leaf and flow'r? It sleeps; and th' icy touch Of unprolific winter has impress'd A cold stagnation on th' intestine tide.

But let the months go round, a few short months,
And all shall be restor'd. These naked shoots,
Barren as lances, among which the wind
Makes wintry music, fighing as it goes,
Shall put their graceful foliage on again,
And, more aspiring, and with ampler spread,
Shall boast new charms, and more than they have lost.
Then, each in its peculiar honors clad,
Shall publish, even to the distant eye,
Its family and tribe. Laburnum, rich
In streaming gold; syringa, iv'ry pure;
The scented and the scentless rose; this red,
And of an humbler growth, the * other tall,
And throwing up into the darkest gloom
Of neighb'ring cypress, or more sable yew,
Her silver globes, light as the foamy surf
That the wind fevers from the broken waye ;
The lilac, various in array, now white,
Now fanguine, and her beauteous head now set
With purple spikes pyramidal, as if
Studious of ornament, yet unresolv’d
Which hue lhe most approv'd, she chose them all ;
Copious of flow'rs, the woodbine, pale and wan,
But well compensating her fickly looks
With never-cloying odours, early and late;

* The Guelder-rosc,

Hypericum, all bloom, fo thick a fwarm
Of flow'rs, like flies, clothing her fiender rods,
That scarce a leaf appears ; mezerion, too,
Though leafless, well attir'd, and thick bele
With blushing wreaths, investing ev'ry spray ;
Altiza with the purple eye ; the broom,
Yellow and bright, as bullion unalloy'd,
Her blossoms; and, luxuriant above all,
The jasmine, throwing wide her elegant sweets,
The deep dark green of whose unvarnish'd leaf
Makes more conspicuous, and illumines more
The bright profusion of her scatter'd stars.--
These have been, and these shall be in their day ;
And all this uniform, upcolour'd seene,
Shall be dismantled of its fleecy load,
And flush into variety again.
From dearth to plenty, and from death to life,
Is Nature's progress, when she lectures man
In heav'nly truth; evincing, as she makes
The grand transition, that there lives and works
A soul in all things, and that soul is God.
The beauties of the wilderness are his,
That make so gay the folitary place
Where no eye sees them. And the fairer forms
That cultivation glories in, are his.
He fets the bright procession on its way,

And marshals all the order of the year ;
He marks the bounds which winter may not pass,
And blunts his pointed fury; in its case,
Ruffet and rude, folds up the tender

Uninjur'd, with inimitable art;
And, ere one flow'ry season fades and dies,
Designs the blooming wonders of the next,

Some say, that, in the origin of things, When all creation started into birth, The infant elements receiv'd a law, From which they swerv'd not fince. That under force Of that controuling ordinance they move, And need not his immediate hand, who first Prescrib'd their course, to regulate it now. Thus dream they, and contrive to save a God Th’incumbrance of his own concerns, and spare The great artificer of all that moves The stress of a continual act, the pain] Of unremitted vigilance and care, As too laborious and severe a talk. So man, the moth, is not afraid, it seems, To span omnipotence, and measure might, That knows no measure, by the scanty rule And standard of his own, that is to day, And is not ere to-morrow's sun go down!

But how should matter occupy a charge
Dull as it is, and satisfy a law
So vast in its demands, unless impelld
To ceaseless service by a ceaseless force,
And under pressure of some conscious cause?
The Lord of all, himfelf through all diffus'd,
Sustains, and is the life of all that lives.
Nature is but a name for an effect,
Whose cause is God. He feeds the secret fire
By which the mighty process is maintain'd,
Who sleeps not, is not weary; in whose fight
Slow-circling ages are as transient days ;
Whose work is without labour ; whose deligns
No flaw deforms, no difficulty thwarts ;
And whose beneficence no charge exhausts.
Him blind antiquity profan'd, not ferv'd,
With self-taught rites, and under various names,
Female and male, Pomona, Pales, Pan,
And Flora, and Veriumnus ; peopling earth
With tutelary goddesses and gods
That were not; and commending, as they would,
To cach some province, garden, field, or grove.
But all are under one, One fpirit- His
Who wore the platted thorns with bleeding brows
Rules universal nature. Not a flow'r
But shows some touch, in freckle, Streak, or stain,

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