Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/110

 With half-shut eyes, beneath the floating shade Of willows grey, close-crouding o'er the brook.

, from these what numerous kinds descend, Evading even the microscopic eye! Full Nature swarms with life; one wondrous mass Of animals, or atoms organiz'd, Waiting the vital Breath, when Shall bid his spirit blow. The hoary fen, In putrid steams, emits the living cloud Of pestilence. Thro' subterranean cells, Where searching sun-beams scarce can find a way Earth animated heaves. The flowery leaf Wants not its soft inhabitants. Secure, Within its winding citadel, the stone Holds multitudes. But chief the forest-boughs, That dance unnumber'd to the playful breeze, The downy orchard, and the melting pulp Of mellow fruit, the nameless nations feed Of evanescent insects. Where the pool Stands mantled o'er with green, invisible, Amid the floating verdure millions stray. Each liquid too, whether it pierces, sooths. Inflames, refreshes, or exalts the taste, With various forms abounds. Nor is the firearm Of purest crystal, nor the lucid air, Tho' one transparent vacancy it seems, Void of their unseen people. These, conceal'd By the kind art of forming, escape The grosser eye of Man: for, if the worlds In worlds inclos'd should on his senses burst, From cates ambrosial, and the nectar'd bowl, He would abhorrent turn; and in dead night, When silence sleeps o'er all, be stun'd with noise.

no presuming impious railer tax , as if aught was form'd In