Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/167

 Confus'd, and frightened at his sudden tears, Her rising beauties flush'd a higher bloom, As thus, passionate, and just, Pour'd out the pious rapture of his soul.

" art thou then dear remains?— She, whom my restless gratitude has sought, So long in vain? oh heavens! the very same, The soften'd image of my noble friend, Alive, his every feature, every look, More elegantly touch'd. Sweeter than spring! Thou sole surviving blossom from the root, That nourish'd up my fortune! Say, ah where, In what sequester'd desart, hast thou drawn The kindest aspect of delighted ? Into such beauty spread, and blown so fair; Th o' poverty's cold wind, and crushing rain, Beat keen, and heavy, on thy tender years? O let me now, into a richer soil, Transplant thee safe! where vernal suns, and showers, Diffuse their warmest, largest influence; And of my garden be the pride, and joy! It ill befits thee, oh it ill befits daughter, his, whose open stores, Tho' vast, were little to his ampler heart, The father of a country, thus to pick The very refuse of those harvest-fields, Which from his bounteous friendship I enjoy. Then throw that shameful pittance from thy hand, But ill apply'd to such a rugged task; The fields, the master, all, my fair, are thine; If to the various blessings which thy house Has on me lavish'd, thou wilt add that bliss. That dearest bliss, the power of blessing thee!"