Who fill'd with unexhaufted fire, ODE то EVENING. BY THE SAME. I. H Whole foft approach the weary wood-man 'AIL meek-ey'd Maiden,clad in fober grey, loves; As homeward bent to kiss his prattling babes, When Phabus finks behind the gilded hills, III. The panting Dryads, that in day's fierce heat IV. To the deep wood the clamorous rooks repair, Light fkims the swallow o'er the watry scene; And from the sheep-cote, and fresh furrow'd-field, Stout ploughmen meet to wrestle on the green. V. The fwain, that artlefs fings on yonder rock, Now ev'ry Paffion fleeps: defponding Love, O modest EVENING! oft let me appear ODE TO. EVEN IN G. BY MR. WILLIAM COLLINS. F ought of oaten stop, or paftoral song, chafte to Like thy own folemn fprings, Thy fprings, and dying gales, ear, ONymph referv'd, while now the bright-hair'd fun O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hush'd, fave where the weak-ey'd bat, With fhort fhrill fhriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His fmall but fullen horn, As oft he rifes 'midft the twilight path, To breathe some soften'd strain, Whose numbers ftealing thro' thy darkening vale, Thy genial lov'd return! For when thy folding ftar arifing fhews Who flept in flowers the day," And many a Nymph who wreaths her brows with fedge, And sheds the fresh'ning dew, and lovelier still, The Penfive Pleasure's sweet Prepare thy fhadowy car. Then lead, calm Votress, where some sheety lake Cheers the lone heath, or fome time-hallow'd pile, Or up-land fallows grey Reflect its laft cool gleam. But when chill bluftering winds, or driving rain, Views wilds, and fwelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd fpires, And hears their fimple bell, and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil. While spring shall pour his show'rs, as oft he wont, And bathe thy breathing treffes, meekest Eve! |