Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/114

 A simple scene! yet hence sees Her solid grandeur rise: hence she commands Th' exalted stores of every brighter clime, The treasures of the sun without his rage: Hence, fervent all, with culture, toil, and arts, Wide glows her land: her dreadful thunder hence Rides o'er the waves sublime, and now, even now, ImpendigImpending [sic] hangs o'er Gallia's humbled coast; Hence rules the circling deep, and awes the world.

' raging Noon; and, vertical, the Sun Darts on the head direct his forceful rays. O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye Can sweep, a dazling deluge reigns; and all From pole to pole is undistinguish'd blaze. In vain the sight, dejected to the ground, Stoops for relief; thence hot ascending steams And keen reflection pain. Deep to the root Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields And slippery lawn an arid hue disclose, Blast Fancy's blooms, and wither even the Soul. Echo no more returns the chearful sound Of sharpening scythe: the mower sinking heaps O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfum'd; And scarce a chirping grass-hopper is heard Thro' the dumb mead. Distresful Nature pants. The very streams look languid from afar; Or, thro' th' unshelter'd glade, impatient, seem To hurl into the covert of the grove.

heat, oh intermit thy wrath! And on my throbbing temples potent thus Beam not so fierce! incessant still you flow, And still another fervent flood succeeds, Pour'd on the head profuse. In vain I sigh, And