Beasts, strong to labour, o'er the lea Laborious man fulfils his task, Birds, beasts, and trees, unmoved by choice, Have each improved the day, Obedient still to nature's voice : But whose did I obey? Were Christ's commands before my sight In all I thought and spoke? And worn his easy yoke? Has pride or wrath disturbed my breast, Has sinful sloth my powers possessed And bound them in its chain? Has not my resolution failed? Lord, search, for thou didst see; And has not base self-love prevailed Instead of love to thee? Did I this day, for small or great, The mass of human woe? 'Mid cares and hopes and pleasures mean, With eager fondness sought, Oh, has one glance at things unseen Sublimed my earthly thought? Has grace, descending from above, In meekness, patience, truth, and love, Great is the peace such grace bestows If thus my cheerful hours have sped, MISS TAYLOR. SUMMER EVENING. H! there is-there is a balm Sweet oblivion of the cares, Toils and fears, and woes of life, If a foretaste e'er be given Of the treasured bliss of heaven; DAY: A PASTORAL. MORNING. N the barn the tenant cock, Close to Partlet perched on high, Briskly crows (the shepherd's clock !) Jocund that the morning's nigh. Swiftly from the mountain's brow Paints with gold the village spire. Philomel forsakes the thorn, Plaintive where she prates at night! From the low-roofed cottage ridge, Now the pine tree's waving top From the balmy sweets uncloyed, Sweet, O sweet, the warbling throng, Echoes to the rising day. NOON. FERVID on the glittering flood, Not a dew-drop decks the rose. By the brook the shepherd dines; Now the flock forsakes the glade, Where unchecked the sunbeams fall; Sure to find a pleasing shade By the ivied abbey wall. Echo in her airy round Over river, rock, and hill, Cannot catch a single sound, Save the clack of yonder mill. Cattle court the zephyrs bland, Not a leaf has leave to stir ;- Quiet even the shepherd's cur, Languid is the landscape round, Till the fresh descending shower, Grateful to the thirsty ground, Raises every fainting flower. EVENING. O'ER the heath the heifer strays Now he hides behind the hill, Trudging as the ploughmen go, (To the smoking hamlet bound), Giant-like their shadows grow Lengthened o'er the level ground. Where the rising forest spreads As the lark, with varied tune, Now the hermit owlet peeps From her barn, or twisted brake; And the blue mist slowly creeps, Curling on the silver lake. Tripping through the silken grass, With her well-poised milking pail ! |