STILL let my song a nobler note assume,
And sing th' infusive force of SPRING on man;
When heaven and earth, as if contending, vie
To raise his being, and serene his soul,
Can he forbear to smile with NATURE? Can
The stormy passions in his bosom rowl,
While every gale is peace, and every grove
Is melody? Hence, from the bounteous walks
Of flowing SPRING, ye sordid sons of earth,
Hard, and unfeeling, of another's woe,
Or only lavish to yourselves; away.
But come, ye generous breasts, in whose wide thought,
Of all his works, CREATIVE BOUNTY, most,
Divinely burns; and on your open front,
And liberal eye, sits, from his dark retreat
Inviting modest want. Nor only fair,
And easy of approach; your active search
Leaves no cold wintry corner unexplor'd,
Like silent-working HEAVEN, surprizing oft
The lonely heart with unexpected good.
For you the roving spirit of the wind
Blows SPRING abroad; for you the teaming clouds
Descend in buxom plenty o'er the world;
And the sun spreads his genial blaze for you,
Ye flower of human race! In these green days,
Sad-pining sickness lifts her languid head;
Life flows afresh; and young-ey'd health exalts
The whole creation round. Contentment walks
The sunny glade, and feels an inward bliss
Spring o'er his mind, beyond the power of kings
To purchase. Pure serenity apace
Induces thought, and contemplation still.
By small degrees the love of nature works,
And warms the bosom; till at last arriv'd
To rapture, and enthusiastic heat,
We feel the present DEITY, and taste
The joy of GOD, to see a happy world.