s

RURAL SPORT*.

Where the tall oak his spreading arms entwines,

And with the beech a mutual shade combines;Where flows the murm’ring brook, inviting dreams,Where bo rd ’ring hazle overhangs the streamsWhose rolling current winding round and round,With frequent falls makes all the wood resound;Upon the mossy couch my limbs I cast,

And ev’n at noon the sweets of ev’ning taste.

Here I peruse the Mantuan’s Georgic strains,

And learn the labours of Italian swains;

In ev’ry page I fee new landschapes rife,

And all Hefperia opens to my eyes.

I wander o’er the various rural toil,

And know the nature of each different foil:

This waving field is gilded o’er with corn,

That spreading trees with bluffing fruit adorn:

Here I survey the purple vintage grow,

Climb round the poles, and rife in graceful row:

How I behold the steed curvet and bound,

And paw with restless hoof the smoaking ground;The dewlap’d bull now chafes along the plain,

While burning love ferments in ev’ry vein;

His well-arm’d front against his rival aims,

And by the dint of war his mistress claims»

The careful infect ’midst his works I view,

How from theflow’rs exhaust the fragrant dew;

With golden treasures load his little thighs,

And steer his distant journey thro’ the skies;

Some against hostile drones the hive defend;

Others with sweets the waxen cells distend:

Each in the toil his destin’d office bears,

And in the little bulk a mighty foul appears.

Or when the ploughman leaves the task of day,

And trudging homeward whistles on the way;