How vast, how copious are thy new designs! 
  How every music varies in thy lines! 
  Still as I read, I feel my bosom beat,
  And rise in raptures by another’s heat. 
  Thus in the wood, when summer dress’d the days,
  When Windsor lent us tuneful hours of ease, 70
  Our ears the lark, the thrush, the turtle blest,
  And Philomela sweetest o’er the rest: 
  The shades resound with song—­oh softly tread! 
  While a whole season warbles round my head.

   This to my friend—­and when a friend inspires,
  My silent harp its master’s hand requires,
  Shakes off the dust, and makes these rocks resound;
  For fortune placed me in unfertile ground,
  Far from the joys that with my soul agree,
  From wit, from learning—­far, oh far from thee! 80
  Here moss-grown trees expand the smallest leaf,
  Here half an acre’s corn is half a sheaf;
  Here hills with naked heads the tempest meet,
  Rocks at their side, and torrents at their feet,
  Or lazy lakes, unconscious of a flood,
  Whose dull brown Naiads ever sleep in mud.

   Yet here Content can dwell, and Learned Ease,
  A friend delight me, and an author please;
  Even here I sing, while Pope supplies the theme,
  Show my own love, though not increase his fame. 90

[Footnote 1:  ‘Egypt’s princess:’  Cleopatra.]

* * * * *

  HEALTH:  AN ECLOGUE.

  Now early shepherds o’er the meadow pass,
  And print long footsteps in the glittering grass,
  The cows neglectful of their pasture stand,
  By turns obsequious to the milker’s hand,
  When Damon softly trode the shaven lawn,
  Damon a youth from city cares withdrawn;
  Long was the pleasing walk he wander’d through,
  A cover’d arbour closed the distant view;
  There rests the youth, and while the feather’d throng
  Raise their wild music, thus contrives a song. 10

   Here wafted o’er by mild Etesian air,
  Thou country Goddess, beauteous Health, repair! 
  Here let my breast through quivering trees inhale
  Thy rosy blessings with the morning gale. 
  What are the fields, or flowers, or all I see? 
  Ah! tasteless all, if not enjoy’d with thee.

   Joy to my soul!  I feel the Goddess nigh,
  The face of Nature cheers as well as I;
  O’er the flat green refreshing breezes run,
  The smiling daisies blow beneath the sun, 20
  The brooks run purling down with silver waves,
  The planted lanes rejoice with dancing leaves,
  The chirping birds from all the compass rove
  To tempt the tuneful echoes of the grove: 
  High sunny summits, deeply shaded dales,
  Thick mossy banks, and flowery winding vales,
  With various prospect gratify the sight,
  And scatter fix’d attention in delight.