SPRING.

VEGETATION AND PRIMEVAL STATE
OF MAN.

A softened shade, and saturated earth
awaits the morning beam, to give to light
rais'd thro' ten thousand different plastic tubes,
the balmy treasures of the former day.

Then spring the living herbs profusely wild, o'er all the deep green earth, beyond the power of botanist to number up their tribes: whether he steals along the lonely dale, in silent search; or through the forest, rank with what the dull incurious weeds account, bursts his blind way; or climbs the mountain-rock, fir'd by the nodding verdure of it's brow. With such a liberal hand has nature flung their seeds abroad, blown them about in winds, innumerous mix'd them with the nursing mould, the moistening current, and prolific rain.

But who their virtues can declare? who pierce, with vision pure, into these secret stores of health, and life and joy? the food of man, while yet he liv'd in innocence, and told a length of golden years; unflesh'd in blood, a stranger to the savage arts of life,

death, rapine, carnage, surfeit, and disease; the lord, and not the tyrant of the world.

The first fresh dawn then wak'd the gladden'd race of uncorrupted man, nor blush'd to see

the sluggard sleep beneath it's sacred beam; for their light slumbers gently fum'd away; and up they rose as vigorous as the sun, or to the culture of the willing glebe, or to the cheerful tendance of the flock. Meantime the song went round; and dance and sport, wisdom and friendly talk, successive, stole their hours away; while in the rosy vale love breath'd his infant sighs, from anguish free, and full replete with bliss; save the sweet pain, that, inly thrilling, but exalts it more. Nor yet injurious act, nor surly deed, was known among those happy sons of Heaven; for reason and benevolence were law.

Harmonious Nature too look'd smiling on. Clear shone the skies, cool'd with eternal gales, and balmy spirit all. The youthful sun shot his best rays, and still the gracious clouds dropp'd fatness down; as o'er the swelling mead, the herds and flocks, commixing, play'd secure. This when, emerging from the gloomy wood, the glaring lion saw, his horrid heart

was meekened, and he join'd his sullen joy. For music held the whole in perfect peace: soft sigh'd the flute; the tender voice was heard, warbling the varied heart; the woodlands round apply'd their quire; and winds and waters flow'd in consonance.

PRESENT STATE OF MANKIND.

Such were those prime of days. But now those white unblemished manners, whence the fabling poets took their golden age,

are found no more amid these iron times,
these dregs of life! Now the distemper'd mind
has lost that concord of harmonious powers,
which forms the soul of happiness; and all
is off the poise within; the passions all
have burst their bounds; and reason half extinct,
or impotent, or else approving, sees

the foul disorder. Senseless, and deform'd,
convulsive anger storms at large; or pale,
and silent, settles into fell revenge.
Base envy withers at another's joy,

and hates that excellence it cannot reach.
Desponding fear, of feeble fancies full,
weak and unmanly, loosens every power.
Even love itself is bitterness of soul,
a pensive anguish pining at the heart;

or,

sunk to sordid interest, feels no more that noble wish, that never cloy'd desire, which selfish joy disdaining, seeks alone to bless the dearer object of it's flame. Hope sickens with extravagance; and grief, of life impatient, into madness swells; or in dead silence wastes the weeping hours. These, and a thousand mix'd emotions more, from ever-changing views of good and ill, form'd infinitely various vex the mind

with endless storm; whence, deeply rankling, grows the partial thought, a listless unconcern,

cold, and averting from our neighbour's good;

then dark disgust, and hatred, winding wiles, coward deceit, and ruffian violence:

at last, extinct each social feeling, fell, and joyless inhumanity pervades

and petrifies the heart. Nature disturb'd

is deem'd, vindictive, to have chang'd her course.

INHUMANITY.

-The wholesome herb neglected dies; tho' with the pure exhilirating soul of nutriment and health and vital powers, beyond the search of art, 't is copious blest. For, with hot ravine fir'd, ensanguin'd Man is now become the lion of the plain,

and worse. The wolf, who from the nightly fold fierce drags the bleating prey, ne'er drunk her milk nor wore her warming fleece: nor has the steer, at whose strong chest the deadly tyger hangs, e'er plough'd for him. They too are temper'd high, with hunger stung and wild necessity,

nor lodges pity in their shaggy breast.

But Man, whom Nature form'd of milder clay,
with every kind emotion in his heart,

and taught alone to weep; while from her lap
she pours ten thousand delicacies, herbs,
and fruits, as numerous as the drops of rain

or beams that gave them birth: shall he, fair form!
who wears sweet smiles, and looks erect on Heaven,
e'er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd,
and dip his tongue in gore? The beast of prey,
blood-stain'd, deserves to bleed: but you, ye flocks,
what have ye done? ye peaceful people, what,
to merit death? you, who have given us milk
in luscious streams, and lent us your own coat
against the winter's cold. And the plain ox,
that harmless, honest, guileless animal,
in what has he offended? he, whose toil,
patient and ever ready, clothes the land
with all the pomp of harvest; shall he bleed,

and struggling groan beneath the cruel hands even of the clown he feeds? and that, perhaps to swell the riot of th' autuninal feast, won by his labour? Thus the feeling heart would tenderly suggest: but 't is enough, in this late age, adventurous, to have touch'd light on the numbers of the Samian sage. High Heaven forbids the bold presumptuous strain, whose wisest will has fix'd us in a state that must not yet to pure perfection rise.

Now when the first foul torrent of the brooks, swell'd with the vernal rains, is ebb'd away; and, whitening, down their mossy-tinctur'd stream descends the billowy foam; now is the time, while yet the dark-brown water aids the guile, to tempt the trout. The well-dissembled fly, the rod fine-tapering with elastic spring, snatch'd from the hoary steed the floating line, and all thy slender wat'ry stores prepare. But let not on thy hook the tortur'd worm, convulsive twist in agonizing folds;

which, by rapacious hunger swallow'd deep, gives, as you tear it from the bleeding breast of the weak helpless uncomplaining wretch, harsh pain and horror to the tender hand.

RETIREMENT AND READING.

Seek oft the bank where flowering elders crowd, where scatter'd wild the lily of the vale

it's balmy essence breathes, where cowslips hang the dewy head, where purple violets lurk, with all the lowly children of the shade: or lie reclin'd beneath yon spreading ash, No. 81.

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