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The clattering dairy-maid immers'd in steam,
Singing and scrubbing midst her milk and cream,
Bawls out, "Go fetch the cows," he hears no more;
For pigs, and ducks, and turkies, throng the door,
And sitting hens, for constant war prepar'd:
A concert strange to that which late he heard.
Straight to the meadow then he whistling goes;
With well-known halloo calls his lazy cows;
Down the rich pasture heedlessly they graze;
Or hear the summons with an idle gaze;
For well they know the cow-yard yields no more
Its tempting fragrance, nor its wintry store.
Reluctance marks their steps, sedate and slow;
The right of conquest all the law they know.
The strong press on, the weak by turns succeed,
And one, superior, always takes the lead;
Is ever foremost, wheresoe'er they stray,
Allow'd precedence, undisputed sway;
With jealous pride her station is maintain'd,
For many a broil that post of honour gain'd.
At home, the yard affords a grateful scene,
For spring makes e'en a miry cow-yard clean.
Forth comes the maid, and like the morning smiles;
The mistress too, and follow'd close by Giles.
A friendly tripod forms their humble seat,
With pails bright scour'd and delicately sweet,
Where shadowing elms obstruct the morning ray,
Begins the work, begins the simple lay;

And crouching Giles, beneath a neighbouring tree,
Tugs o'er his pail and chaunts with equal glee;

Whose hat with tatter'd brim and nap so bare,
From the cow's side purloins a coat of hair.
As unambitious too, that cheerful aid,
The mistress yields beside her rosy maid;
With joy she views her plenteous reeking store,
And bears a brimmer to the dairy door;
Her cows dismiss'd the luscious mead to roam,
Till eve again recall them loaded home.

RURAL SOLITUDE.

OH! what is the gain of restless care,
And what is ambitious treasure,

And what are the joys which the modish share
In their haunts of sickly pleasure?

The grove with its silence, Oh! is it not sweet,
And to lie in the shade by the fountain,

And the wild flowers' scent at eve to meet,
And to rove o'er the heath and the mountain?

Oh! where is the morning seen to rise,
The violet mark'd as 'tis springing?
The zephyr heard, as at eve he sighs,
The blackbird lov'd for his singing?
Oh! there alone can the heart be gay,
The thought be free from sorrow,
And soft the night, and short the day,
And welcome again the morrow.

PEACE OF MIND.

WHEN all within is peace,

How nature seems to smile; Delights which never cease,

The live-long day beguile.

From morn to dewy eve,
With open hand she pours
Fresh blessings to deceive,
And soothe the silent hours.

It is content of heart

Gives nature power to please; The mind which feels no smart, Enlivens all it sees;

Can make a wintry sky

Look bright as smiling May,
And evening's closing eye
As peep of early day.

The vast majestic globe,

So beauteously array'd In Nature's various robe

With wond'rous skill display'd,

Is to the mourner's heart
A dreary wild at best;
It flutters to depart,
And longs to be at rest.

CREATION OF THE WORLD, FINISHED AND SUR

VEYED.

Milton.

HERE finish'd He, and all that He had made
View'd, and behold all was entirely good;
So even and morn accomplish'd the sixth day.
Yet not till the Creator from his work
Desisting, though unweari'd up return'd,
Up to the heav'n of heav'ns, his high abode,
Thence to behold this new created world,
The addition of his empire, how it show'd
In prospect from his throne; how good, how fair,
Answering his great idea. Up He rode,
Follow'd with acclamation, and the sound
Symphonious of ten thousand harps that tun'd
Angelic harmonies. The earth, the air,
Resounded-

The heav'ns and all the constellations rang;
The planets in their stations list'ning stood,
While the bright pomp ascended jubilant.
Open, ye everlasting gates, they sang ;
Open, ye heavens, your everlasting gates; let in
The great Creator from his work return'd
Magnificent, his six days' work, a world.

ADAM'S ACCOUNT OF HIS FIRST SENSATIONS AND

CONSCIOUSNESS.

As new wak'd from soundest sleep,

Soft on the flowery herb I found me laid,
Straight toward heaven my wondering eyes I raised,
And gazed awhile the ample sky; till raised
By quick instinctive motion, up I sprang,
As thitherward endeavouring; and upright
Stood on my feet, about me, round, I saw
Hill, dale, and shady wood, and sunny plains,
And liquid lapse of murmuring streams; by these,
Creatures that lived and moved, and walk'd or flew.
Birds on the branches warbling; all things smiled
With fragrance; and with joy my heart o'erflow'd.
Myself, I then perused; and limb by limb,
Survey'd, and sometimes walk'd, and sometimes ran
With supple joints, as lively vigour led;

But who I was, or where, or from what cause,
Knew not; to speak I tried, and forthwith spake.
While thus I spake, and stray'd I knew not
whither,

From where I first drew air, and first beheld
This happy light; when answer none return'd,
On a green shady bank, profuse of flowers,
Pensive I sat me down; there gentle sleep
First found me, and with soft oppression seiz'd
My drowsied sense, untroubled, though I thought
I then was passing to my former state
Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve.

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