ARGUMENT of the FIFTH BOOK.
Afrofty morning-The foddering of cattle.—the woodman and his dog.The poultry-Whimsical effects of froft at a waterfall.—The Empress of Ruffia's palace of ice.--Amusements of monarchs.—War, one of them. Wars, whence.-And whence monarchy.-The evils of it.-English and French loyalty contrafted.-The Baftile, and a prifoner there.-Liberty the chief recommendation of this country.— Modern patriotism queftionable, and why.- he perishable nature of the best human inftitutions.-Spiritual liberty not perishable.The flavish state of man by nature.—Deliver him, Deift, if you can.- Grace muft do it. The respective merits of patriots and martyrs stated.—Their different treatment.- Happy freedom of the man whom grace makes free. His relish of the works of God.—Addrefs to the Creator.
IS morning; and the fun with ruddy orb Afcending, fires the horizon: while the clouds
That crowd away before the driving wind, More ardent as the difk emerges more,
Resemble most some city in a blaze,
Seen through the leaflefs wood. His flanting ray
Slides ineffe&tual down the fnowy vale,
And tinging all with his own rofy hue, From ev'ry herb and ev'ry fpiry blade Stretches a length of fhadow o'er the field. Mine, fpindling into longitude immense,
In spite of gravity, and fage remark
That I myself am but a fleeting shade, Provokes me to a fmile.
I view the muscular proportion'd limb Transform'd to a lean fhank.
As they defign'd to mock me, at my fide Take step for step; and as I near approach The cottage, walk along the plaister'd wall, Prepoft'rous fight! the legs without the man. The verdure of the plain lies buried deep Beneath the dazzling deluge; and the bents, And coarfer grafs upfpearing o'er the rest, Of late unfightly and unfeen, now fhine Confpicuous, and in bright apparel clad, And fledg'd with icy feathers, nod fuperb. The cattle mourn in corners where the fence Screens them, and feem half petrify'd to fleep In unrecumbent fadness. There they wait Their wonted fodder, not like hung'ring man Fretful if unfupply'd, but filent, meek, And patient of the flow-pac'd fwain's delay. He from the stack carves out th' accustom'd load, Deep-plunging, and again deep plunging oft His broad keen knife into the folid mass; Smooth as a wall the upright remnant stands,
With fuch undeviating and even force He fevers it away: no needlefs care
Left ftorms should overset the leaning pile Deciduous, or its own unbalanc'd weight. Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconcern'd The cheerful haunts of man, to wield the axe And drive the wedge in yonder forest drear, From morn to eve his folitary task.
Shaggy, and lean, and fhrewd, with pointed ears And tail cropp'd short, half lurcher and half cur, His dog attends him. Close behind his heel Now creeps he flow; and now with many a frifk Wide-fcamp'ring, fnatches up the drifted fnow With iv'ry teeth, or ploughs it with his fnout; Then shakes his powder'd coat and barks for joy.. Heedlefs of all his pranks, the sturdy churl Moves right toward the mark; nor ftops for aught, But, now and then, with preffure of his thumb T' adjust the fragrant charge of a short tube That fumes beneath his nofe: the trailing cloud Streams far behind him, fcenting all the air. Now from the rooft, or from the neighb'ring pale, Where, diligent to catch the first faint gleam Of fmiling day, they goffip'd fide by fide,. Come trooping at the housewife's well known call
The feather'd tribes domeftic. Half on wing, And half on foot, they brush the fleecy flood, Conscious, and fearful of too deep a plunge. The íparrows peep, and quit the shelt'ring eaves To feize the fair occafion. Well they eye The scatter'd grain, and thievishly resolv'd 'T' escape th' impending famine, often scar'd As oft return, a pert voracious kind.
Clean riddance quickly made, one only care Remains to each, the search of funny nook, Or fhed impervious to the blast. Refign'd To fad neceffity, the cock foregoes His wonted strut, and wading at their head With well-confider'd steps, seems to resent His alter'd gait and stateliness retrench'd. How find the myriads, that in fummer cheer The hills and vallies with their ceafelefs fongs, Due fuftenance, or where fubfift they now? Earth yields them nought: the imprison'd worm is fafe
Beneath the frozen clod; all feeds of herbs Lie cover'd close, and berry-bearing thorns That feed the thrush (whatever some suppose) Afford the smaller minstrels no supply. The long protracted rigor of the year
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