Ere the first swallow sweeps the freshening plain,
Ere love-sick turtles breathe their amorous pain.
Let festive glee th' enliven'd village raise,
Pan's blameless reign, and patriarchal days;
With pastoral dance the smitten swain surprise,
And bring all Arcady before our eyes.
Return, blithe maidens; with you bring along
Free, native humour, all the charms of song,
The feeling heart, and unaffected ease,
Each nameless grace, and every power to please.
Nov. 1st, 1763.
ON THE RAINBOW.
Look upon the Rainbow, and praise him that made it; very beautiful is the brightness thereof."—Eccles. xliii. 11.
On morning or on evening cloud impress'd,
Bent in vast curve, the watery meteor shines
Delightfully, to the levelled sun opposed;
Lovely refraction! while the vivid brede
In listed colours glows, th' unconscious swain
With vacant eyes gazes on the divine
Phenomenon, gleaming o'er the illumined fields,
Or runs to catch the treasures which it sheds.
Not so the sage, inspired with pious awe;
He hails the federal arch;[1] and looking up,
Adores that God, whose fingers form'd this bow
Magnificent, compassing heaven about,
With a resplendent verge, "Thou madest the cloud,
Maker Omnipotent, and thou the bow;
And by that covenant graciously hast sworn
Never to drown the world again:[2] henceforth,
