IN

Close to Partlet perch'd on high, Brifkly crows, (the fhepherd's clock!) Jocund that the morning's nigh.

II.

Swiftly from the mountain's brow,
Shadows, nurs'd by night, retire:
And the peeping fun-beam, now,
Paints with gold the village fpire.

III.

Philomel forfakes the thorn,
Plaintive where the prates at night;
And the Lark, to meet the morn,
Soars beyond the fhepherd's fight.

IV.

From the low-roof'd cottage ridge,
See the chatt'ring Swallow fpring;
Darting through the one-arch'd bridge,
Quick the dips her dappled wing.

V.

Now the pine-tree's waving top
Gently greets the morning gale:
Kidlings, now, begin to crop
Daifies, in the dewey dale.

VI.

From the balmy sweets, uncloy'd,
(Reftlefs 'till her task be done)
Now the bufy bee's employ'd
Sipping dew before the fun.

VII.

Trickling through the crevic'd rock,
Where the limpid ftream diftills,
Sweet refreshment waits the flock
When 'tis fun-drove from the hills.

VIII.

COLIN, for the promis'd corn
(Ere the harvest hopes are ripe)
Anxious, hears the huntsman's horn,
Boldly founding, drown his pipe.

IX.

Sweet, O fweet, the warbling throng,
On the white embloffom'd spray!

Nature's universal song

Echoes to the rising day.

NOON.

FE

NOON.

X.

ERVID on the glitt'ring flood, Now the noon-tide radiance glows: Dropping o'er its infant bud,

Not a dew-drop's left the rofe.

XI.

By the brook the fhepherd dines;
From the fierce meridian heat
Shelter'd, by the branching pines,
Pendent o'er his graffy feat.

XII.

Now the flock forfakes the glade,

Where, uncheck'd, the fun-beams fall;

Sure to find a pleafing shade

By the ivy'd abby wall.

XIII.

Echo in her airy round,

O'er the river, rock and hill, Cannot catch a fingle found, Save the clack of yonder mill.

XIV.

Cattle court the zephyrs bland,
Where the ftreamlet wanders cool;
Or with languid filence ftand

Midway in the marshy pool.

XV.

But from mountain, dell, or ftream, Not a flutt'ring zephyr fprings:

Fearful left the noon-tide beam

Scorch its foft, its filken wings.

XVI.

Not a leaf has leave to ftir,

Nature's lull'd-ferene-and ftill!

Quiet e'en the shepherd's cur,

Sleeping on the heath-clad hill.

XVII.

Languid is the landscape round,
"Till the fresh descending shower,
Grateful to the thirsty ground,
Raifes ev'ry fainting flower.

XVIII.

Now the hill-the hedge-is green, Now the warblers' throats in tune! Blithfome is the verdant scene, Brighten'd by the beams of Noon!

EVENIN G.

O'

XIX.

'ER the heath the heifer ftrays
Free;-(the furrow'd task is done)

Now the village windows blaze,
Burnish'd by the setting fun.

XX.

Now he hides behind the hill,
Sinking from a golden sky:
Can the pencil's mimic skill,
Copy the refulgent dye?

XXI.

Trudging as the plowmen go,
(To the fmoaking hamlet bound)
Giant-like their shadows grow,
Lengthen'd o'er the level ground.

XXII.

Where the rifing foreft fpreads,
Shelter for the lordly dome!
To their high-built airy beds,
See the rooks returning home!

XXIII.

As the Lark with vary'd tune,
Carols to the evening loud;
Mark the mild refplendent moon,
Breaking through a parted cloud!

Now