Be kind, ye powers, and tune my

artlefs tongue,

While I repeat the Dryads pleasing song.
Napé began; a nymph with careless mien,
Clad like autumnal leaves in yellowish green:
Her round plump cheeks a deeper purple dy'd,
Such as ripe fruits boaft on their funny fide:
A wreath of platted mofs curl'd round her head,
Cheerful she smil'd, and thus the Elfin said:

"Tall fycamores, the noisy insects love,
And buzzing round the leaves inceffant move;
While the day lafts, the worthless creatures play,
And mourn the evening dusk, and wing their filent

way.

But foreft nymphs prefer the peaceful night,
When folemn gloom, and dewy feats invite.
While drowzy man in fleep unactive rests,
Not half fo happy as the watchful beasts,
Who filent leave their dens, and secret home,
And, on the prey intent, thro' all the forest roam.
The raging fun, with his too fcorching beams,
Burns up the herbs, and leffens all the streams;
But the kind moon reflects a milder ray,
And makes a night more lovely than the day;
Nor darts fierce flame, but innocently bright
Leaves all the fire, and gives the purer light;
No noifome vapour, or dark cloud exhales,
But gentle drops, fresh dews, and pleafing gales.

So woman is but rougher man refin❜d,

Has nought of him that's fierce, but all that's kind.
Now falling drops like fhining pearls are seen,
And dewy fpangles hang on every green:
Refreshing moisture cools the thirsty mead,

Extends the ftalk, and fwells th' unfolded feed;
Reftores the verdure of the tarnish'd leaves,
And every herb the ripening juice receives.
Day always is the same, but wanton night
Boafts a more grateful change of harmless light.
Below, the glow-worms, wondrous orbs, are feen,
That ftud with burnish'd gold the shaded green:
These little wandering comets never shed
Or baneful ill, or dire contagion fpread;
Their fhining tails foretel no falling state,
Nor future dearth, nor fad disease create.
Bright lambent flames, and kindled vapours rise,
Sweep glaring thro' the dusk, and ftrike the won-
dering eyes.

In oblique tracks the meteors blaze around,
And skim the furface of the marshy ground,
Unfeen by day, when, tyrant-like, the fun,
Envious, admits no fplendor but his own.
The liquid drops, that ooze from weeping trees,
And fparkling ftones with ftar-like luftre please ;
Even faplefs wood, improv'd by age, grows bright,
And, what it wants in moisture, gains in light.

(

While

While ripen'd fruits, and milder feafons laft,
And only empty clouds the skies o'ercaft,
Nymphs in lone deferts chant the rural lay,
'Till the wing'd Hours bring on returning day.
But when fierce wintery ftorms the foreft rend,
And rattling hail, or fleecy fnows defcend;
When conscious birds, who know fucceeding times,
Hafte from the cold, and feek for milder climes;
The Elfin powers (who can at pleasure leave
Aerial bodies, and new forms receive)

Caft off their vehicles, and freed from fenfe,
Nor dread the ftorms, nor cold, when too intenfe.
The earthy Gnomes, and Fairy Elves are seen
Digging in loweft mines with bufy men;
There labour, on the fruitless work intent,
While deeper fnows the wonted dance prevent:
But foolish fwains the blooming Spring prefer,
The infant glory of the budding year;
Nature, as yet, is but imperfect seen,
And her weak products fhow a rawish green :
The flowers look gay, but lovely Autumn treats
With ripen'd beauties, and substantial sweets;
Nor wants its flowers, while poppies grace the corn,
And azure cups the waving fields adorn.
Fruits lov'd by ruftic taftes, of pleafing fhow,
On the wild hedge, and scented briar grow;
And yellow leaves, the fairy Elfin's bed,
Fly with the wind, and on the ground are spread.

The frifking Satyrs fqueeze the cluster'd grape,
And the chafte Dryad fears the coming rape :
Ripe mellow heaps from every tree are shook,
And bending corn expects the sharpen'd hook;
Soon will the nodding fheaves be borne away,
And the drawn net inclofe th' unguarded prey.
The friendly powers, who labouring peasants aid,
Nymphs, and light fawns, frequent the woody fhade;
But oft curs'd fiends quit their infernal home,
And (hated guests) in gloomy forests roam,
With glaring eyes affright the howling beafts,
And little birds fhrink clofer in their nefts.
Earth would be heaven, if we might here enjoy
Pleasure unmixt, and leave the base alloy.
The greatest good has its attending ill,
And doubtful blifs diftracts th' uncertain will.
So teeming Autumn boasts her luscious fruits,
And plants of grateful tafte, and healing roots;
But ripens with like care the growing feeds
Of baneful aconite, and noxious weeds.
The deadly nightshade wanton youth deceives
With fhining berries, and with spreading leaves;
Th' accurfed fruit invites with pleasing show,
Fair as the damfen, or the sky-dy'd floe;
But ah! not rafhly trust the tempting ills;
Too well you know, that beauty often kills:

Swift

Swift thro' the bones the spreading venom flies,
A deadly fleep hangs on his closing eyes,
And the loft wretch in raging frenzy dies.
Now round its pole the spiral hop entwifts,
Like Thyrfi, borne by Bacchus' antient priests.
The husband elm fupports th' embracing vines,
And round its oak the ivy closer twines.
To Bacchus facred all, and prone to love,
They show what fuel muft the flame improve;
Love, blind himself, the mark would hardly know,
But Bacchus takes the aim, and fets the bow.
Autumnal days a conftant medium boast,

Nor chap the ground with heat, nor dry with froft.
Nature on all her finish'd labour smiles,

And the glad peasant reaps the grateful spoils;
Winds shake the ripen'd feeds on parent earth,
And thus impregnate for fucceeding birth.
The tufted cod with future harvest swells,
While weighty feeds fall from their native cells,
And near their mother-stem: but smaller kinds,
Far from their homes, are borne by fweeping winds;
The atoms fly, wafted on every breeze,
Hence moffy threads enwrap the tallest trees;
Herbs of strange forms on highest rocks are found,
And spreading fern runs o'er the barren ground.
But, Goddess, you neglect your wonted care,
(While blighted orchards mourn, the nymphs de

spair ;)

Nor