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The clouds, befide their paintings, hung all o'er
Heaven's convex, act the part of fhifting scenes,
And kindly interpofe to cool the flames
Shot from the fcorching fun's meridian rays;
Nor lefs their use, whom providence has chofe
The fruitful water-fpouts, which through the air,
Wafted by various winds, their moisture pour
O'er earth's extended regions, drop their dews,
To fructify each plant and springing flower.
To thee the fields present their golden stores,
The fruitful granaries each autumn fill'd,
To feast thy table; the vast ocean thine,
That refervoir, which drinks a thousand ftreams,
Nor yet o'erflowing.--Every creature spends
Its ftrength for thee, ready at thy command
Thy orders to dispatch---fome pleas'd, refign
Their cloathing, to replenish and to grace.
Thy fumptuous wardrobes, ready at thy call
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pour their lives away in ftreams of gore
To gratify thy tafte; the earth, the air,
Each element a plenteous ftorehouse, fill'd
With rich abundance---treafures hoarded all
For thy delight and ufe: each feafon pours

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On thee its choice productions, nature seems
Thy bounteous caterer, and, to endear
Her various favours, all are useful found
At once, and lovely; nothing the bestows
Inelegant or mean---each scene is clad
In beauty's fairest robe, proportion guides
Her hand whene'er it draws, exhibits round
A fund of pleasures grateful to the eye,
Which chear at once, while they our wants fupply.
Encompass'd round with mercies, can the heart
Of man rebel against that pitying power
Who loads him with his richeft gifts each day?
Oh! gratefully those crouded gifts furvey
Drop'd in thy lap by his endearing fmile;
See how he courts thy ravish'd heart to own
His gracious bounties, feeming to disdain
All limits---ftraiten'd by no scanty bounds.
What lively picture here do I behold
Of industry! whofe kind and friendly care
This spot into a beauteous Eden turns.

Here we enjoy whate'er can entertain

The eye, or treat the fmell with rich perfumes!
Had it been left unnurtur'd, this gay scene,

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A garden now delightful, had appear'd
A defert wafte---the thistle had deform'd

Its beauties, cover'd with the tangling briar;
Soon had these fcented beds become the nests
Of noxious ferpents, and the lonesome home
And haunt of creatures that infect the air

And atmosphere with poisons which they breathe.
But fee the fpade and pruning-knife employ'd
By industry's kind hand, have clear'd the glebe
From fuffocating weeds, and in their room
Planted whate'er is grateful to the eye;
The rueful wafte, by cultivation chang'd

Into

gay

fcenes, with Eden's felf that vies.

See with what care the curious flow'rift tends
His springing nursery; each morn and eve
He vifits their abodes, with richest mould
Feeding their tender roots; he now supplies
Each plant with moisture, now employs his care
To guard 'em from the infects rav'nous jaw,
Or fcreens 'em from the winter's blasting cold.
With joy each opening bud he oft beholds,
Attentively obferves them as they blow

From fair to fairer ftill; nor ever cease

His

His pleafing rural labours till they shine

More beauteous, and in full perfection bloom.
Children of folly, fhall this range of flowers,
When nurs'd and nurtur'd by art's curious hand,
Spring up and flourish, bloffom in the morn,
E'er night their beauties loft, at least decay'd;
Shall these be tended with more zealous pains,
Or warmer application, than a foul
Divine, immortal---ne'er to cease or die?
On every fide furrounded, I admire

Clusters of infant flowers, within their cells
The buds embosom'd which their beauties hide,
Their fweets lock'd up within their guardian folds;
E'er long the fun's enlivening beams fhall chear

And

open their rich foliage, to the day

Expand their graceful leaves; how gay a bloom.
Then blushes on their cheeks, what incense flows,
What rich perfumes, their balmy bofoms breathe?
At proper distances difpos'd we view

A range of ftately* ftalks; fee how they rife,
And ftand like lofty towers along the walls

Of towns well fortified; their tops will foon

*The fun-flower,

Afunder

Afunder part, the ftem that lifts them high.
With penfile spiky pods quite gayly hung;
From these the wand'ring ftranger foon will view
Burfting, a beauteous figure, fpreading wide
Its round and yellow plume in colours drefs'd,
How priz'd and grateful to the curious éye?
One faculty peculiar to these tribes;

The fondeft paffion for those kindly beams
The fun diffuses, to unfold their bloom.
Soon as the evening her dark mantle throws

Round nature's varied beauties, fee they pine,

And droop their languid heads, their shining leaves
Close folded up within their nightly cells,

Juft like the mournful lover banish'd far

From her fair eye whose charms his bofom warm'd.
Soon as the fun now mounts his eaftern throne,
Opening the radiant eye-lids of the morn,
See they up-raise their radiant tops to hail
His kind approach, their golden leaves unveil
To meet and welcome the return of day;
Nor lofe the fight of his refulgent rays
Before its orb is hid beneath a fhade.

The morning opening, you behold the flower

Its

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