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O DE

ΟΝ THE

APPROACH OF SUMMER.

BY A GENTLEMAN FORMERLY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN.

Te dea, te fugiunt venti, te nubila cæli,
Adventumque tuum; tibi fuaveis dædala tellus
Submittit flores; tibi rident æquora ponti ;
Placatumque nitet diffufo lumine coelum.

HE

LUCRETIUS.

ENCE iron-fcepter'd WINTER, haste
To des'late Ruffian wafte !

Where far remote from man's refort

Thou hold'st thy joyless court;
Where ever beat by ftorms and show'rs
Thy gloomy Gothic caftle tow'rs;
Amid whofe howling ifles and halls,
Where no gay fun-beam paints the walls,
On ebon throne, thou lov'st to shroud,
Thy hoary head in fable cloud.

M

E'n now, before the fun's soft heat, Sullen I fee thy train retreat: EURUS, with lightning in his hands, That on a tiger mounted stands; High-figur'd on whose robe are shewn Shipwrecks, and villages o'erthrown : Grim AUSTER, dropping all with dew, And clad in vest of watchet hue: Next COLD, like Zemblan favage dreft, Who boldly bares his hardy breaft: With him his brother, fur-clad FROST, His robe with icicles emboft.

WINTER farewell! thy forefts hoar, Thy frozen floods delight no more; Farewell the fields, fo bare and wild! But come thou rose-cheek'd cherub mild, Sweetest SUMMER! hafte thee here, Once more to crown the gladden'd year. Thee APRIL blythe, as long of yore Bermudas' yales he frolick'd o'er, (Such is his wont, at early prime, When the foft boughs begin to climb) To gather balm of choiceft dews, And patterns fair of various hues, With which to paint in changeful dye, The vernal year's embroidery ; To cull the effence of rich fmells

In which to dip his blooming bells;

Thee, as he rov'd with genial feet,
He found an infant, fmiling fweet;

Where a tall citron's boughs imbrown'd
The green lap of the graffy ground.
There long upon a roseate bed,

Thee with rare nectarine fruits he fed ;
Till foon beneath his foft'ring care,
You bloom'd a goddess debonair;
And last he gave the blessed isle
Aye to be fway'd beneath thy fmile.
Haste thee nymph! and hand in hand,
With thee bring a buxom band;
Ering fantastic-footed Joy,

With Sport that yellow-treffed boy,
Lead Health that loves, in early dawn
To meet the milk-maid in the lawn :
Lead Pleasure, rural nymph, and Peace.
Meek cottage loving fhepherdefs!
Bring the dear Mufe, that loves to lean
On river-margins, mosfy green.
But who is fhe, that bears thy train,
Pacing light the velvet plain ?

The pale pink crowns her auburn hair,
Her treffes flow with past'ral air;
Tis May the Grace-confeft fhe stands
By branch of hawthorn in her hands :
Lo! near her trip the light-foot Dews
Their wings all dipt in iris-hues;

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With whom lafcivious Zephyrs play,
And paint with panfies all the way.

Oft when thy season, sweetest Queen,
Has dreft the groves in livery green;
When in each fair and fertile field
Beauty begins her bow'r to build ;
While Evening, veil'd in fhadows brown,
Puts her matron-mantle on,

And mifts in spreading steams convey
More fresh the fumes of new-fhorn hay;
Then, Goddess, guide my gladsome feet
Contemplation hoar to meet,

As flow he winds his museful way,
O'er the foft marge of filver Tay:
Or near thy brook, O fylvan Jed!
Where first, by meek-ey'd Nature led,
Thomson the rural Muses woo'd
In numbers wild, of Dorian mood.
While thro' the dusk but dimly feen,
Sweet evening objects intervene :

His wattled cotes the fhepherd plants,

⚫ Beneath her elm the milk-maid chants.
And now the labourer I meet,

The low mist gathering at his feet:
Nor wants there fragrance all the while,
My foothed fenfes to beguile :
Nor tangled wood-bines balmy bloom,
Nor dewy grafs, to breathe perfume:

Nor lowly wild-thyme's fpicy fweet
To bathe in dew my roving feet:
Nor wants there note of Philomel,
Nor found of distant-tinkling bell:
Nor lowings faint of herds remote ;
Nor maftiff's bark from lowly cott:
Ruftle the breezes lightly born
Or deep-embattell'd ears of corn:
Round ancient elm, with humming noise,
Beetles in thickening fwarms rejoice.
Meantime, what mingling dies invest
The golden chambers of the Weft!
That all aflant the village tow'r
A mild reflected radiance pour,
While, with th' obliquely-ftreaming rays
Far feen it's arched windows blaze:
While the tall grove's green top is dight
In ruffet hues, and gleams of light:
So that the foft fcene by degrees
Bathes my blythe heart in extafies;
And Fancy to my ravish'd fight
Frames ever-varying visions bright;
Like those her MILTON wont to dream,
As by the pale moon's cloudlefs gleam,
He rov'd to hear the bird of woe,
Or found of Curfeu fwinging flow.
Till from the path I fondly ftray
In museings lapt, and lose my way;

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