Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/80

 Infinite numbers, delicacies, smells, With hues on hues expression cannot paint, The breath of Nature, and her endless bloom.

Hail, Of heaven and earth! , hail! To I bend the knee; to  my thoughts, Continual climb; who, with a Master-hand, Hast the great whole into perfection touch'd. By the various vegetative tribes, Wrapt in a filmy net, and clad with leaves, Draw the live ether, and imbibe the dew: By dispos'd into congenial soils, Stands each attractive plant, and sucks, and swells The juicy tide; a twining mass of tubes. At command the vernal sun awakes The torpid sap, detruded to the root By wintry winds, that now in fluent dance, And lively fermentation, mounting, spreads All this innumerous-colour'd scene of things.

As rising from the vegetable world My theme ascends, with equal wing ascend My panting Muse! and hark how loud the woods Invite you forth in all your gayest trim. Lend me your song, ye nightingales! oh pour The mazy-running soul of melody Into my varied verse! while I deduce From the first note the hollow cuckoo sings, The symphony of Spring, and touch a theme Unknown to fame, the passions of the groves.

first the soul of love is sent abroad, Warm thro' the vital air, and on the heart Harmonious seizes, the gay troops begin, In