Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/115

 And restless turn, and look around for Night; Night is far off; and hotter hours approach. Thrice happy he! that on the sunless side Of a romantic mountain, forest-crown'd, Beneath the whole collected shade reclines: Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought, And fresh bedew'd with ever-spouting streams, Sits coolly calm; while all the world without, Unsatisfied, and sick, tosses in noon. Emblem instructive of the virtuous Man, Who keeps his temper'd mind serene, and pure, And every passion aptly harmoniz'd, Amid a jarring world with vice inflam'd.

, ye shades! ye bowery thickets, hail! Ye lofty pines! ye venerable oaks! Ye ashes wild, resounding o'er the steep! Delicious is your shelter to the soul, As to the hunted hart the sallying spring, Or stream full-flowing, that his swelling sides Laves, as he floats along the herbag'd brink, Cool, thro' the nerves, your pleasing comfort glides; The heart beats glad; the fresh-expanded eye And ear resume their watch; the sinews knit; And life shoots swift thro' all the lightened limbs.

th' adjoining brook, that purls along The vocal grove, now fretting o'er a rock, Now scarcely moving thro' a reedy pool, Now starting to a sudden stream, and now Gently diffus'd into a limpid plain; A various groupe the herds and flocks compose, Rural confusion! On the grassy bank Some ruminating lie; while others stand Half in the flood, and often bending sip Rh