Be gracious, Heaven! for now laborious man Has done his part. Ye fostering breezes, blow! Ye softening dews, ye tender showers, descend! And temper all, thou world-reviving sun, Into the perfect year! Nor ye who live In luxury and ease, in pomp and pride, Think these lost themes unworthy of your ear: Such themes as these the rural Maro sung To wide-imperial Rome, in the full height Of elegance and taste, by Greece refin'd. In ancient times, the sacred plow employ'd The kings and awful fathers of mankind; And some, with whom compar'd your insect tribes Are but the beings of a summer's day, Have held the scale of empire, rul'd the storm Of mighty war, then with victorious hand, Disdaining little delicacies, seiz'd The plow, and greatly independent scorn'd All the vile stores corruption can bestow. Ye generous Britons, venerate the plow! And o'er your hills and long withdrawing vales Let Autumn spread his treasures to the sun, Luxuriant and unbounded! As the sea, Far through his azure turbulent domain, Your empire owns, and from a thousand shores Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports, So with superior boon may your rich soil, Exuberant, Nature's better blessings pour O'er every land, the naked nations clothe, And be the exhaustless granary of a world! [Illustration: Wafts all the pomp of life into your ports] Nor only through the lenient air this change, Delicious, breathes: the penetrative sun, His force deep-darting to the dark retreat Of vegetation, sets the steaming power At large, to wander o'er the verdant earth, In various hues; but chiefly thee, gay green! Thou smiling Nature's universal robe! United light and shade! where the sight dwells With growing strength, and ever-new delight. From the moist meadow to the wither'd hill, Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs; And swells, and deepens, to the cherish'd eye. The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, Till the whole leafy forest stands display'd, In full luxuriance, to the sighing gales; Where the deer rustle through the twining brake, And the birds sing conceal'd. At once, array'd In all the colors of the flushing year By Nature's swift and secret-working hand, The garden glows, and fills the liberal air With lavish fragrance; while the promis'd fruit Lies yet a little embryo, unperceiv'd, Within its crimson folds. Now from the town, Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps, Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields, Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling drops From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze Of sweetbrier hedges I pursue my walk; Or taste the smell of dairy; or ascend Some eminence, Augusta, in thy plains, And see the country, far diffus'd around,