Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/116

 The circling surface. In the middle droops The strong labourious ox, of honest front, Which imcompos'd he shakes; and from his sides The troublous insects lashes with his tail, Returning still. Amid his subjects safe, Slumbers the monarch-swain; his careless arm Thrown round his head, on downy moss sustain'd; Here laid his scrip, with wholesome viands fill'd; There, listening every noise, his watchful dog.

fly his slumbers, if perchance a flight Of angry gad-flies fasten on the herd; That startling scatters from the shallow brook, In search of lavish stream. Tossing the foam, They scorn the keeper's voice, and scour the plain, Thro' all the bright severity of noon; While, from their labouring breasts, a hollow moan Proceeding, runs low-bellowing round the hills.

in this season too the horse, provok'd, While his big sinews full of spirits swell, Trembling with vigour, in the heat of blood, Springs the high fence; and, o'er the field effus'd, Darts on the gloomy flood, with stedfast eye, And heart estrang'd to fear: his nervous chest, Luxuriant, and erect, the seat of strength! Bears down th' opposing stream: quenchless his thirst; He takes the river at redoubled draughts; And with wide nostrils, snorting, skims the wave.

let me pierce into the midnight depth Of yonder grove, of wildest largest growth: That, forming high in air a woodland quire, Nods o'er the mount beneath. At every step, Solemn, and slow, the shadows blacker fall, And all is awful listening gloom around. }}