Page:The Seasons - Thomson (1791).djvu/190

Tremendous sweep, or seem to sweep along;
And voices more than human, thro' the void
Deep-sounding, seize th' enthusiastic ear! 1025

Or is this gloom too much? Then lead, ye powers,
That o'er the garden and the rural seat
Preside, which shining thro' the chearful land
In countless numbers blest Britannia sees;
O lead me to the wide-extended walks, 1030
The fair majestic paradise of Stowe!^[1]
Not Persian Cyrus, on Ionia's shore,
E'er saw such silvan scenes; such various art
By genius fir'd, such ardent genius tam'd
By cool judicious art; that in the strife, 1035
All-beauteous Nature fears to be outdone.
And there, O Pitt, thy country's early boast,
There let me sit beneath the sheltered slopes,
Or in that ^[2]Temple where, in future times,
Thou well shalt merit a distinguish'd name; 1040
And, with thy converse blest, catch the last smiles
Of Autumn beaming o'er the yellow woods.
While there with thee th' inchanted round I walk.
The regulated wild, gay Fancy then
Will tread in thought the groves of Attic land; 1045
Will from thy standard taste refine her own,
Correct her pencil to the purest truth
Of Nature, or, the unimpassion'd shades
Forsaking, raise it to the human mind.
Or if hereafter she, with juster hand, 1050
Shall draw the tragic scene, instruct her thou,
To mark the varied movements of the heart,
What every decent character requires,

1. The seat of the Lord Viscount Cobham.
2. The Temple of virtue in Stowe gardens.

And