Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/138

With love illumin'd high. "Fear not, he said,
Sweet innocence thou! stranger to offence,1200
And inward storm! He, who yon skies involves
In frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee,
With kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft
That wastes at midnight, or th' undreaded hour
Of noon, flies harmless: and that very voice1205
Which thunders terror thro' the guilty heart,
With tongues of seraphs whispers peace to thine.
'Tis safety to be near thee sure, and thus
To clasp perfection!" From his void embrace,
Mysterious Heaven! that moment, to the ground1210
A blacken'd corse, was struck the beauteous maid.
But who can paint the lover, as he stood,
Pierc'd by severe amazement, hating life,
Speechless, and fix'd in all the death of woe!
So, faint resemblance! on the marble-tomb,1215
The well-dissembled mourner stooping stands,
For ever silent, and for ever sad.

As from the face of heaven the shattered clouds
Tumultuous rove, th' interminable sky
Sublimer swells, and o'er the world expands 1220
A purer azure. Nature, from the storm,
Shines out afresh; and thro' the lighten'd air
A higher luster and a clearer calm,
Diffusive, tremble; while, as if in sign
Of danger past, a glittering robe of joy, 1225
Set off abundant by the yellow ray,
Invests the fields: and nature smiles reviv'd.

'Tis beauty all, and grateful song around,
Join'd to the low of kine, and numerous bleat
Of flocks thick-nibbling thro' the clover'd vale. 1230
And shall the hymn be marr'd by thankless Man,

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