Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/139

 Most favour'd; who with voice articulate Should lead the chorus of this lower world? Shall he, so soon forgetful of the hand That hush'd the thunder, and serenes the sky, Extinguish'd feel that spark the tempest wak'd, That sense of powers exceeding far his own, Ere yet his feeble heart has lost its fears?

by the milder beam, the sprightly youth Speeds to the well-known pool, whose crystal depth A sandy bottom shews. A while he stands Gazing th' inverted landskip, half-afraid To meditate the blue profound below; Then plunges headlong down the circling flood. His ebon tresses, and his rosy cheek Instant emerge; and thro' the obedient wave, At each short breathing by his lip repell'd, With arms and legs according well, he makes, As humour leads, an easy-winding path; While, from his polish'd sides, a dewy light Effuses on the pleas'd spectators round.

is the purest exercise of health, The kind refresher of the summer-heats; Nor, when cold Winter keens the brightening flood, Would I weak-shivering linger on the brink. Thus life redoubles, and is oft preserv'd, By the bold swimmer, in the swift illapse Of accident disastrous. Hence the limbs Knit into force; and the same Roman arm, That rose victorious o'er the conquer'd earth, First learn'd, while tender, to subdue the wave. Even, from the body's purity, the mind Receives a secret sympathetic aid.

in the covert of an hazel copse, Where winded into pleasing solitudes Runs