SELECT POE M S. HEALTH. AN ECLOGUE. BY PARNELL. Now early shepherds o'er the meadows pafs, When Damon foftly trod the fhaven lawn, There refts the youth, and, while the feather'd throng Raise their wild mufic, thus contrives a fong. Here, wafted o'er by mild Etefian air, Thou country Goddefs, beauteous Health! repair, Here let my breast through quiv'ring trees inhale Thy rofy bleffings with the morning gale. What are the fields, or flow'rs, or all I fee? Ah! taftelefs all, if not enjoy'd with thee. A Joy to my foul! I feel the goddefs nigh, The face of nature cheers as well as I; O'er the flat green refreshing breezes run, The fmiling daifies blow beneath the fun, The brooks run purling down with filver waves, The planted lanes rejoice with dancing leaves, The chirping birds from all the compass rove To tempt the tuneful echoes of the grove: High funny fummits, deeply fhaded dales, Thick moffy banks, and flow'ry winding vales, With various prospects gratify the fight, And scatter fix'd attention in delight. Come, country Goddefs, come, nor thou fuffice, But these are helps to pleasure join'd with thee. Unnerv'd with reft; and turn her own disease, I mount the courfer, call the deep-mouth'd hounds, I lead where ftags through tangled thickets tread, And foar to seize, or stooping strike their prey; To wound the fowl I load the gun with fate. And Tully's Tufculum revives in mine: Now to grave books I bid the mind retreat, H |