When the big-udder’d cows with patience stand,Waiting the stroakingsof the damsel’s hand;

No warbling chears the woods; the feather’d choirTo court kind slumbers to their sprays retire;When no rude gale disturbs the steeping trees,

Nor aspen leaves confess the gentlest breeze;Engag’d in thought, to Neptune’s bounds I stray,To take my farewel of the parting day ;

Far in the deep the fun his glory hides,

A streak of gold the sea and sky divides;

The purple clouds their amber lining show,

And edg’d with flame rolls ev’ry wave below:

Here pensive I behold the fading light,

And o’er the distant billow lose my sight.

Now night in silent state begins to rife,

And twinkling orbs bestrow th’ uncloudy skies;Her borrow’d lustre growing Cynthia lends,

And on the main a glitt’ring path extends;Millions of worlds hang in the spacious air,

Which round their funs their annual circles steer.Sweet contemplation elevates my fense,

While I survey the works of providence.

O could the muse in loftier strains rehearse,

The glorious Author of the universe,

Who reins the winds, gives the vast ocean bounds,And circumscribes the floating worlds their rounds,My foul should overflow in songs of praise,

And my Creator’s name inspire my lays !

As in successive course the seasons roll,

So circling pleasures recreate the foul.

When genial spring a living warmth bestows,

And o’er the year her verdant mantle throws,

No swelling inundation hides the grounds,

But crystal currents glide within their bounds;