The ftork-affembly meets; for many a day,
Confulting deep, and various, ere they take
Their arduous voyage thro' the liquid sky.
And now their rout defign'd, their leaders chose,
Their tribes adjusted, clean'd their vigorous wings;
And many a circle, many a fhort essay,
Wheel'd round and round, in congregation full, 770
The figur'd flight afcends; and, riding high
Th' aërial billows, mixes with the clouds.
OR where the Northern ocean, in vaft whirls,
Boils round the naked melancholy, ifles
Of fartheft Thule, and th' Atlantic surge
Pours in among the ftormy Hebrides;
Who can recount what tranímigrations there
Are annual made? What nations come and go?
And how the living clouds on clouds arise ?
Infinite wings! till all the plume-dark air,
And rude.refounding shore are one wild cry.
HERE the plain harmless native his fmall flock,
And herd diminutive of many hues,
Tends on the little island's verdant fwell,
The Thepherd's fea-girt reign; or, to the rocks 785
Dire-clinging, gathers his ovarious food;
Or fweeps the fishy fhore; or treasures up
The plumage, rifing full, to form the bed
Of luxury. And here a while the Mufe,
High-hovering o'er the broad cerulean scene,
Sees CALEDONIA, in romantic view :
Her airy mountains, from the waving main,
Invested with a keen diffusive sky,
Breathing the foul acute; her forefts huge,
Incult, robuft, and tall, by Nature's hand
Planted of old; her azure lakes between,
Pour'd out extenfive, and of watry wealth
Full; winding deep, and green, her fertile vales;
With many a cool translucent brimming flood
Wafh'd lovely, from the Tweed (pure Parent-ftream,
Whofe paftoral banks first heard my Doric reed,
With, filvan fed, thy tributary brook)
To where the north-inflated tempeft foams
O'er Orca's or Betubium's highest peak:
Nurse of a people, in misfortune's school
Train'd up to hardy deeds; foon vifited
By Learning, when before the Gothic rage
She took her western flight. A manly race,
Of unfubmitting fpirit, wife, and brave;
Who still thro' bleeding ages ftruggled hard,
(As well unhappy. WALLACE can attest,
Great patriot-hero! ill-requited chief!)
To hold a generous undiminish'd state;
Too much in vain! Hence of unequal bounds
Impatient, and by tempting glory borne
O'er every land, for every land their life
Has flow'd profufe, their piercing genius plann'd,
And fwell'd the pomp of peace their faithful toil.
As from their own clear north, in radiant ftreams,
Bright over Europe bursts the Boreal Morn.
OH is there not fome patriot, in whose power
That beft, that godlike Luxury is plac'd,
Of bleffing thousands, thousands yet unborn,
Thro' late pofterity? fome, large of foul,
To chear dejected industry? to give
A double harveft to the pining fwain ?
And teach the labouring hand the sweets of toil?
How, by the finest art, the native robe
To weave; how, white as hyperborean fnow,
To form the lucid lawn; with venturous oar,
How to dash wide the billow; nor look on,
Shamefully paffive, while Batavian fleets
Defraud us of the glittering finny fwarms,
That heave our friths, and croud upon our fhores ;
How all-enlivening trade to roufe, and wing
The profperous fail, from every growing port,
Uninjur'd, round the fea-incircled globe;
And thus, in foul united as in name,
Bid BRITAIN reign the mistress of the deep?
YES, there are fuch. And full on thee, ARGYLE, Her hope, her stay, her darling, and her boaft, 841 From her first patriots and her heroes sprung, Thy fond imploring Country turns her eye; In thee, with all a mother's triumph, fees
Her every virtue, every grace combin'd,
Her genius, wisdom, her engaging turn,
Her pride of honour, and her courage try'd,
Calm, and intrepid, in the very throat
Of fulphurous war, on Tenier's dreadful field.
Nor lefs the palm of peace inwreathes thy brow: 850
For, powerful as thy fword, from thy rich tongue
Perfuafion flows, and wins the high debate ;
While mix'd in thee combine the charm of youth,
The force of manhood, and the depth of age.
Thee, FORBES, too, whom every worth attends, 855
As truth fincere, as weeping friendship kind,
Thee, truly generous, and in filence great,
Thy country feels thro' her reviving arts,
Plan'd by thy wisdom, by thy foul inform'd ;
And feldom has she known a friend like thee.
BUT fee the fading many-colour'd woods,
Shade deepening over fhade, the country round
Imbrown; a crouded umbrage, dusk, and dun,
Of every hue, from wan declining green
To footy dark. These now the lonesome Muse,
Low-whispering, lead into their leaf-ftrown walks,
And give the season in its latest view.
MEAN-TIME, light-fhadowing all, a fober calm Fleeces unbounded ether; whose least wave Stands tremulous, uncertain where to turn
The gentle current: while illumin'd wide,
The dewy-skirted clouds imbibe the fun,
And thro' their lucid veil his foften'd force
Shed o'er the peaceful world. Then is the time,
For those whom wisdom and whom Nature charm,
To fteal themselves from the degenerate croud, 876
And foar above this little scene of things;
To tread low-thoughted vice beneath their feet;
To foothe the throbbing paffions into peace;
And wooe lone Quiet in her filent walks.
THUS folitary, and in penfive guife, Oft let me wander o'er the ruffet mead,
And thro' the faddened grove, where scarce is heard
One dying ftrain, to chear the woodman's toil.
Haply fome widowed songster pours his plaint, 885
Far, in faint warblings, thro' the tawny copfe.
While congregated thrushes, linnets, larks,
And each wild throat, whose artless firains fo late
Swell'd all the mufic of the fwarming fhades,
Robb'd of their tuneful fouls, now fhivering fit 890
On the dead tree, a dull despondent flock;
With not a brightness waving o'er their plumes,
And nought fave chattering discord in their note.
O let not, aim'd from some inhuman eye,
The gun the mufic of the coming year
Destroy; and harmless, unfufpe&ting harm,
Lay the weak tribes, a miserable prey,
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