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205 Alike reserved to blame, or to commend,
A timorous foe, and a suspicious friend;
Dreading e'en fools, by flatterers besieged,
And so obliging, that he ne'er obliged;
Like Cato, give his little senate laws,
210 And sit attentive to his own applause;
While wits and templars every sentence raise,
And wonder with a foolish face of praise-
Who but must laugh, if such a man there be?
Who would not weep, if Atticus were he?

PART FOURTH

THOMSON TO TENNYSON

Cir. 1730-Cir. 1830

James Thomson

1700-1748

SPRING

(1728)

(From The Seasons)

Come, gentle Spring, etherial mildness, come,
And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud,
While music wakes around, veil'd in a shower
Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend.

And see where surly Winter passes off,
Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts:
His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill,
The shatter'd forest, and the ravag'd vale;
15 While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch,
Dissolving snows in livid torrents lost,

The mountains lift their green heads to the sky.
As yet the trembling year is unconfirm'd,

And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze, 20 Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets Deform the day delightless; so that scarce

The bittern knows his time, with bill engulf'd

To shake the sounding marsh; or from the shore The plovers when to scatter o'er the heath, 25 And sing their wild notes to the listening waste. At last from Aries rolls the bounteous Sun, And the bright Bull receives him. Then no more Th' expansive atmosphere is cramp'd with cold; But, full of life and vivifying soul,

30 Lifts the light clouds sublime, and spreads them thin,

Fleecy and white, o'er all-surrounding heaven.
Forth fly the tepid airs; and unconfin'd,
Unbinding earth, the moving softness strays.
Joyous, the impatient husbandman perceives

35 Relenting Nature, and his lusty steers

Drives from their stalls, to where the well-us'd
plough

Lies in the furrow, loosen'd from the frost.
There, unrefusing, to the harness'd yoke

They lend their shoulder, and begin their toil, 40 Cheer'd by the simple song and soaring lark. Meanwhile incumbent o'er the shining share The master leans, removes th' obstructing clay, Winds the whole work, and sidelong lays the glebe.

While thro' the neighb'ring fields the sower stalks,

45 With measur'd step; and liberal throws the grain Into the faithful bosom of the ground:

The harrow follows harsh, and shuts the scene.

Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious Man Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow! 50 Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, descend! And temper all, thou world-reviving sun, Into the perfect year! Nor ye who live In luxury and ease, in pomp and pride, Think these lost themes unworthy of your ear: 55 Such themes as these the rural Maro sung

To wide imperial Rome, in the full height
Of elegance and taste, by Greece refin'd.
In ancient times, the sacred plough employ'd
The kings and awful fathers of mankind:
60 And some, with whom compar'd your insect-tribes
Are but the beings of a summer's day,

Have held the scale of empire, rul'd the storm
Of mighty war; then, with victorious hand,
Disdaining little delicacies, seiz'd

65 The plough, and greatly independent, scorn'd
All the vile stores Corruption can bestow.

Ye generous Britons, venerate the plough; And o'er your hills, and long-withdrawing vales, Let Autumn spread his treasures to the sun, 70 Luxuriant and unbounded: as the Sea,

Far thro' his azure turbulent domain,

Your empire owns, and from a thousand shores Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports; So with superior boon may your rich soil, 75 Exuberant, Nature's better blessings pour O'er every land, the naked nations clothe, And be th' exhaustless granary of a world!

From the moist meadow to the wither'd hill, Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs And swells, and deepens, to the cherish'd eye. 90 The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, . Till the whole leafy forest stands display'd, In full luxuriance to the sighing gales;

Where the deer rustle through the twining brake. 95 And the birds sing conceal'd. At once array'd In all the colours of the flushing year,

By Nature's swift and secret-working hand,
The garden glows, and fills the liberal air
With lavish fragrance; while the promis'd fruit

100 Lies yet a little embryo, unperceiv'd,

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