See where the winding vale its lavish stores,
Irriguous, spreads.
See, how the lily
The latent rill, scarce oozing through the grass,
In fair profusion, decks.
Long let us walk,
Where the breeze blows from yon extended
Of blossom'd beans.
Arabia cannot boastA fuller gale of joy, than, liberal,
Breathes through the sense, and takes the ravish'd soul.
Nor is the mead unworthy of thy foot,
Full of fresh verdure and unnumber'd flowers,
The negligence of nature, wide and wild;
Where, undisguised by mimic art, she
Unbounded beauty to the roving eye.
Here their delicious task the fervent bees,
In swarming millions, tend: around, athwart,
Through the soft air, the busy nations fly,
Cling to the bud, and, with inserted tube,
Suck its pure essence, its ethereal soul;
And oft, with bolder wing, they soaring
The purple heath, or where the wild thyme grows,
And yellow load them with the luscious spoil.
At length the finish'd garden to the
Its vistas opens, and its alleys, green.
Snatch'd through the verdent maze, the buried
Distracted wanders; now the bowery
Of covert close, where scarce a speck of
Falls on the lengthen'd gloom, protracted sweeps;
Now meets the bending sky; the river
Dimpling along, the breezy-ruffled lake.
The forest darkening round, the glittering spire,
Th' ethereal mountain, and the distant main.
