Transcription

Scarce is discernable that narrow path That leads across to yonder stile Beyond whose dusty bars my doubtful Eyes The rising ground, and woodland Lins obscure Where nothing certain meets my straighten'd sight But yonder gleam now brightening in the East With gradual pace will yet, e'er long restore The field their verdure, & their tints the flowers. How pleasing 'tis to walk this early hour T'indulge the mind in sacred contemplation; Free from disturbance in these calm retreats While all is silent, e'en the tinkling rill And whisp'ring Breeze, that steals from flora's bosom The sweets of flowers, and aromatic herbs Whose wafted odours oft regale the sense. Now fade the spangles in yon azure arch While to the western deep, the shadows fly And hills, and dales, and groves, and lawns appear In prospect more distinct. -- Nature awakes And prompts her offspring to begin the strain And tunes her universal voice to joy;