THE LOVER OF NATURE, &c.
[5]YE green-rob'd Dryads, oft' at duſky Eve
By wondering Shepherds ſeen, to Foreſts brown,
To unfrequented Meads, and pathleſs Wilds,
Lead me from Gardens deckt with Art's vain Pomps.
Can gilt Alcoves, can Marble-mimic Gods,
Parterres embroider'd, Obeliſks, and Urns
Of high Relief; can the long, ſpreading Lake,
Or Viſta leſſening to the Sight; can Stow
[6] With all her Attic Fanes, ſuch Raptures raiſe,
As the Thruſh-haunted Copſe, where lightly leaps
The fearful Fawn the ruſtling Leaves along,
And the briſk Squirrel ſports from Bough to Bough,
While from an hollow Oak the buſy Bees
Hum drowſy Lullabies? The Bards of old,
Fair Nature's Friends, ſought ſuch Retreats, to charm
Sweet Echo with their Songs; oft' too they met,
In Summer Evenings, near ſequeſter'd Bow'rs,
Or Mountain-Nymph, or Muſe, and eager learnt
The moral Strains ſhe taught to mend Mankind.
As to a ſecret Grot Aegeria ſtole
With Patriot Numa, and in ſilent Night
Whiſper'd him ſacred Laws, he liſt'ning ſat
Rapt with her virtuous Voice, old Tyber leant
Attentive on his Urn, and huſht his Waves.
Rich in her weeping Country's Spoils Verſailles
May boaſt a thouſand Fountains, that can caſt
The tortur'd Waters to the diſtant Heav'ns;
Yet let me chooſe ſome Pine-topt Precipice
Abrupt and ſhaggy, whence a foamy Stream,
[7] Like Anio, tumbling roars; or ſome bleak Heath,
Where ſtraggling ſtand the mournful Juniper,
Or Yew-tree ſcath'd; while in clear Proſpect round,
From the Grove's Boſom Spires emerge, and Smoak
In bluiſh Wreaths aſcends, ripe Harveſts wave,
Herds low, and Straw-rooft Cotts appear, and Streams
Beneath the Sun-beams twinkle—The ſhrill Lark,
That wakes the Wood-man to his early Taſk,
Or love-ſick Philomel, whoſe luſcious Lays
Sooth lone Night-wanderers, the moaning Dove
Pitied by liſtening Milkmaid, far excell
The deep-mouth'd Viol, the Soul-lulling Lute,
And Battle-breathing Trumpet. Artful Sounds!
That pleaſe not like the Choriſters of Air,
When firſt they hail th' Approach of laughing May.
Creative Titian, can thy vivid Strokes,
Or thine, O graceful Raphael, dare to vie
With the rich Tints that paint the breathing Mead?
The thouſand-colour'd Tulip, Violet's Bell
Snow-clad and meek, the Vermil-tinctur'd Roſe,
And golden Crocus?—Yet with theſe the Maid,
[8] Phillis or Phoebe, at a Feaſt or Wake,
Her jetty Locks enamels; fairer ſhe,
In Innocence and home-ſpun Veſtments dreſt,
Than if coerulean Sapphires at her Ears
Shone pendant, or a precious Diamond-Croſs
Heav'd gently on her panting Boſom white.
Yon' Shepherd idly ſtretcht on the rude Rock,
Liſtening to daſhing Waves, and Sea-Mews Clang
High-hovering o'er his Head, who views beneath
The Dolphin dancing o'er the level Brine,
Feels more true Bliſs than the proud Ammiral,
Amid his Veſſels bright with burniſh'd Gold
And ſilken Streamers, tho' his lordly Nod
Ten thouſand War-worn Mariners revere.
And great
Aeneas * gaz'd with more Delight
On the rough Mountain ſhagg'd with horrid Shades,
(Where Cloud-compelling Jove, as Fancy dream'd,
Deſcending ſhook his direful Aegis black)
Than if he enter'd the high Capitol
On golden Columns rear'd, a conquer'd World
[9] Contributing to deck its ſtately Head:
More pleas'd he ſlept in poor Evander's Cott
On ſhaggy Skins, lull'd by ſweet Nightingales,
Than if a Nero, in an Age refin'd,
Beneath a gorgeous Canopy had plac'd
His royal Gueſt, and bade his Minſtrels ſound
Soft ſlumb'rous Lydian Airs to ſooth his Reſt.
* Happy the firſt of Men, ere yet confin'd
To ſmoaky Cities; who in ſheltering Groves,
Warm Caves, and deep-ſunk Vallies liv'd and lov'd,
By Cares unwounded; what the Sun and Showers,
And genial Earth untillag'd could produce,
They gather'd grateful, or the Acorn brown,
Or bluſhing Berry; by the liquid Lapſe
[10] Of murm'ring Waters call'd to ſlake their Thirſt,
Or with fair Nymphs their Sun-brown Limbs to bathe;
With Nymphs who fondly claſp'd their fav'rite Youths,
Unaw'd
† by Shame, beneath the Beechen Shade,
Nor Wiles, nor artificial Coyneſs knew.
Then Doors and Walls were not; the melting Maid
Nor Frowns of Parents fear'd, nor Huſband's Threats;
Nor had curs'd Gold their tender Hearts allur'd;
Then Beauty was not venal. Injur'd Love,
O whither, God of Raptures, art thou fled?
While Avarice waves his golden Wand around,
Abhorr'd Magician, and his coſtly Cup
Prepares with baneful Drugs, t'enchant the Souls
Of each low-thoughted Fair to wed for Gain.
What tho' unknown to thoſe primaeval Sires,
The well-arch'd Dome, peopled with breathing Forms
By fair Italia's ſkilful Hand, unknown
The ſhapely Column, and the crumbling Buſts
[11] Of awful Anceſtors in long Deſcent?
Yet why ſhould Man miſtaken deem it nobler
To dwell in
† Palaces, and high-rooft Halls,
Than in God's Foreſts, Architect ſupreme!
Say, is the Perſian Carpet, than the Field's
Or Meadow's Mantle gay, more richly wov'n;
Or ſofter to the Votaries of Eaſe,
Than bladed Graſs, perfum'd with dew-dropt Flow'rs?
O Taſte corrupt! that Luxury and Pomp
In ſpecious Names of poliſh'd Manners veil'd,
Should proudly baniſh Nature's ſimple Charms.
Tho' the fierce North oft ſmote with Iron Whip
Their ſhiv'ring Limbs, tho' oft the briſtly Boar
Or hungry Lion 'woke them with their Howls,
And ſcar'd them from their Moſs-grown Caves to rove,
Houſeleſs and cold in dark, tempeſtuous Nights;
[12] Yet
* were not Myriads in embattled Fields
Swept off at once, nor had the raving Seas
O'erwhelm'd the foundering Bark, and helpleſs Crew;
In vain the glaſſy Ocean ſmil'd to tempt
The jolly Sailor, unſuſpecting Harm,
For Commerce was unknown. Then Want and Pine
Sunk to the Grave their fainting Limbs; but Us
Exceſs and endleſs Riot doom to die.
They cropt the poiſonous Herb unweetingly,
But wiſer we ſpontaneouſly provide
Rare powerful Roots, to quench Life's chearful Lamp.
What are the Lays of artful Addiſon,
Coldly correct, to Shakeſpear's Warblings wild?
[13] Whom on the winding Avon's willow'd Banks
Fair Fancy found, and bore the ſmiling Babe
To a cloſe Cavern: (ſtill the Shepherds ſhew
The ſacred Place, whence with religious Awe
They hear, returning from the Field at Eve,
Strange Whiſperings of ſweet Muſic thro' the Air)
Here, as with Honey gather'd from the Rock,
She fed the little Prattler, and with Songs
Oft' ſooth'd his wondering Ears, with deep Delight
On her ſoft Lap he ſat, and caught the Sounds.
Oft' near ſome crowded City would I walk,
Liſtening the far-off Noiſes, rattling Carrs,
Loud Shouts of Joy, ſad Shrieks of Sorrow, Knells
Full ſlowly tolling, Inſtruments of Trade,
Striking mine Ears with one deep-ſwelling Hum.
Or wandering near the Sea, attend the Sounds
Of hollow Winds, and ever-beating Waves.
Ev'n when wild Tempeſts ſwallow up the Plains,
And Boreas' Blaſts, big Hail, and Rains combine
To ſhake the Groves and Mountains, would I ſit,
Penſively muſing on th' outragious Crimes
[14] That wake Heav'n's Vengeance: at ſuch ſolemn Hours,
Daemons and Goblins thro' the dark Air ſhriek,
While Hecat with her black-brow'd Siſters nine,
Rides o'er the Earth, and ſcatters Woes and Deaths.
Then too, they ſay, in drear Aegyptian Wilds
The Lion and the Tiger prowl for Prey
With Roarings loud! the liſt'ning Traveller
Starts Fear-ſtruck, while the hollow-echoing Vaults
Of Pyramids encreaſe the deathful Sounds.
But let me never fail in cloudleſs Nights,
When ſilent Cynthia in her ſilver Car
Thro' the blue Concave ſlides, when ſhine the Hills,
Twinkle the Streams, and Woods look tipt with Gold,
To ſeek ſome level Mead, and there invoke
Old Midnight's Siſter Contemplation ſage,
(Queen of the rugged Brow, and ſtern-fixt Eye)
To lift my Soul above this little Earth,
This Folly-fetter'd World; to purge my Ears,
That I may hear the rolling Planets Song,
And tuneful-turning Spheres: If this debarr'd,
The little Fayes that dance in neighbouring Dales,
[15] Sipping the Night-dew, while they laugh and love,
Shall charm me with aërial Notes.—As thus
I wander muſing, lo, what awful Forms
Yonder appear! ſharp-ey'd Philoſophy
Clad in dun Robes, an Eagle on his Wriſt,
Firſt meets my Eye; next, Virgin Solitude
Serene, who bluſhes at each Gazer's Sight;
Then Wiſdom's hoary Head, with Crutch in Hand,
Trembling, and bent with Age; laſt Virtue's ſelf
Smiling, in White array'd, who with her leads
Fair Innocence, that prattles by her Side,
A naked Boy!—Harraſs'd with Fear I ſtop,
I gaze, when Virtue thus—'Whoe'er thou art,
' Mortal, by whom I deign to be beheld,
' In theſe my Midnight-Walks; depart, and ſay
' That henceforth I and my immortal Train
' Forſake Britannia's Iſle; who fondly ſtoops
' To Vice, her favourite Paramour.'—She ſpoke,
And as ſhe turn'd, her round and roſy Neck,
Her flowing Train, and long, ambroſial Hair,
Breathing rich Odours, I enamour'd view.
[16]O who will bear me then to Weſtern Climes,
(Since Virtue leaves our wretched Land) to Shades
Yet unpolluted with Iberian Swords;
With ſimple Indian Swains, that I may hunt
The Boar and Tiger thro' Savannah's wild?
There fed on Dates and Herbs, would I deſpiſe
The far-fetch'd Cates of Luxury, and Hoards
Of narrow-hearted Avarice; nor heed
The diſtant Din of the tumultuous World.
So when rude Whirlwinds rouze the roaring Main,
Beneath fair Thetis ſits, in coral Caves,
Serenely gay, nor ſinking Sailors Cries
Diſturb her ſportive Nymphs, who round her form
The light fantaſtic Dance, or for her Hair
Weave roſy Crowns, or with according Lutes
Grace the ſoft Warbles of her honied Voice.
FINIS.