Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/185

Infinite wings! till all the plume-dark air,
And rude resounding shore are one wild cry.

Here the plain harmless native his small flock, 860
And herd diminutive of many hues,
Tends on the little island's verdant swell,
The shepherd's sea-girt reign; or, to the rocks
Dire-clinging, gathers his ovarious food;
Or sweeps the fishy shore; or treasures up 865
The plumage, rising full, to form the bed
Of luxury. And here a while the Muse,
High-hovering o'er the broad cerulean scene,
Sees Caledonia, in romantic view:
Her airy mountains, from the waving main, 870
Invested with a keen diffusive sky,
Breathing the soul acute; her forests huge,
Incult, robust, and tall, by Nature's hand
Planted of old: her azure lakes between,
Pour'd out extensive, and of watry wealth 875
Full; winding deep, and green, her fertile vales;
With many a cool translucent brimming flood
Wash'd lovely, from the Tweed (pure parent-stream,
Whose pastoral banks first wak'd my Doric reed,
With, silvan Jed, thy tributary brook) 880
To where the north-inflated tempest foams
O'er Orca's or Betubium's highest peak:
Nurse of a people, in misfortune's school
Train'd up to hardy deeds; soon visited
By Learning, when before the Gothic rage 885
She took her western flight. A manly race,
Of unsubmitting spirit, wise, and brave;
Who still thro' bleeding ages struggled hard,
(As well unhappy Wallace can attest,
Great patriot-hero! ill-requited chief!) 890

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