THE
EXCURSION
.
HAPPY
thrice
the
harmless
swain
,
Tenant
of
the
peaceful
plain
,
Far
from
business
,
noise
and
strife
,
Blest
with
every
sweet
of
life
;
Far
from
all
the
toil
of
state
,
All
oppressions
of
the
great
;
Dancing
blythe
his
Nymph
he
leads
O'er
the
carpet
of
the
meads
;
While
his
neighbour's
pipe
or
horn
Lulls
the
night
or
cheers
the
morn
:
Healthy
joy
from
labour
springs
,
Healthy
joy
the
wish
of
kings
.
Here
Providence
in
bounty
flows
,
And
joys
on
every
sense
bestows
;
Here
Earth
affords
her
kind
increase
,
With
virtue
gain'd
,
enjoy'd
in
peace
;
The
harvest
rich
,
the
fruitage
fair
,
Repay
the
cultivator's
care
.
Hills
where
sportive
lambkins
stray
,
Flocks
that
fleecy
tribute
pay
;
Crystal
streams
whose
murmuring
rills
Stray
between
the
flowery
hills
,
Meeting
from
a
hundred
dells
,
Till
the
foaming
river
swells
,
Swells
beyond
restraint
,
and
laves
Happy
lands
with
welcome
waves
;
While
the
crystal
of
the
floods
Mocks
the
waving
of
the
woods
.
Here
flowers
in
sweet
confusion
strown
,
O'er
the
verdant
mead
are
blown
;
Narcissus
,
near
the
rivers
fair
,
Smiles
at
itself
reflected
there
;
Sad
emblem
of
that
lover's
pride
,
Who
for
himself
too
fondly
died
.
The
crowfoot
here
with
golden
hue
,
The
cowslips
sweet
,
the
violets
blue
,
The
blushing
pinks
,
and
lilies
pale
,
Like
virgins
fair
,
like
virgins
frail
;
Soft
daffodils
of
early
bloom
,
And
daisies
earful
of
the
gloom
.
But
ah
,
those
beauties
soon
must
fall
!
The
ruthless
scythe
which
levels
all
,
Must
sweep
their
harmless
sweets
away
,
And
give
their
colours
to
decay
.
Here
lofty
groves
invade
the
sky
,
And
all
the
tempest's
rage
defy
;
The
solid
oak
that
awes
the
main
,
The
spreading
elm
of
coarser
grain
.
The
elastic
eugh
,
whose
distant
wound
With
England's
rivals
heap'd
the
ground
;
The
stubborn
holly
,
rough
and
bold
,
That
spreads
her
verdure
to
the
cold
,
And
boasts
her
berries
fair
and
ripe
,
Beneath
December's
icy
gripe
;
All
,
all
Destruction's
power
shall
feel
,
And
fall
before
the
fatal
steel
.
See
this
,
ye
fair
,
ye
wise
,
ye
brave
,
And
sink
together
in
the
grave
.
The
squirrel
climbs
the
nut-tree
bough
,
And
strips
the
clusters
as
they
grow
;
The
little
mouse
with
humbler
hope
Tastes
Nature's
bounties
as
they
drop
.
See
all
the
feather'd
warblers
sing
,
To
welcome
the
returning
spring
;
The
blackbird
,
linnet
,
finch
,
and
thrush
,
Pour
out
their
songs
from
every
bush
;
The
tuneful
lark
,
whose
towering
flight
Fatigues
the
disappointed
sight
;
These
little
songsters
mounted
high
,
Harmonious
carrol
to
the
sky
:
To
heaven
their
tuneful
offering
pay
,
And
seem
to
hail
the
new-born
day
!
Sweet
bird
!
instructed
by
thy
lays
,
Can
man
forget
his
Maker's
praise
?
Reviving
from
the
shades
of
night
,
Can
he
behold
the
all-quickening
light
,
Can
he
unclose
his
fluggish
eyes
,
Nor
send
one
rapture
to
the
skies
?
At
eve
,
in
softly
mournful
strains
,
The
love-lorn
nightingale
complains
;
While
as
it
strains
its
little
throat
,
Pleas'd
Echo
dwells
on
every
note
,
And
sighs
to
hear
the
plaintive
moan
,
And
grief
expressive
of
her
own
.
How
blest
,
my
soul
,
how
blest
are
those
Who
pass
a
life
in
such
repose
;
Who
still
in
rural
shades
abide
,
Where
all
their
hours
thus
smoothly
glide
;
Whose
humble
aims
no
higher
tend
,
Than
to
enjoy
a
book
and
friend
;
Whom
anxious
projects
ne'er
molest
,
Nor
war
nor
love
disturb
their
rest
;
Who
form
no
wish
of
rising
higher
,
But
learn
betimes
to
check
desire
;
Whose
happy
and
yet
humble
state
Provokes
no
threatening
frowns
of
Fate
:
So
humble
shrubs
in
safety
grow
,
When
storms
the
lofty
pine
o'erthrow
.
O
hear
,
ye
Powers
,
a
suppliant's
voice
,
Indulge
my
wish
,
approve
my
choice
!
O
grant
me
,
wheresoe'er
ye
please
,
A
life
of
privacy
and
ease
;
No
more
those
pleasures
to
pursue
,
Which
Fancy
paints
to
Folly's
view
;
Nor
falsly
fond
,
nor
idly
gay
,
To
waste
the
fashionable
day
;
No
more
with
craving
heart
to
go
From
toy
to
toy
,
from
show
to
show
;
All
day
to
counterfeit
delight
,
And
long
,
to
end
the
cheat
,
for
night
.
Afford
me
pleasures
more
serene
:
Give
me
to
range
the
sylvan
scene
,
Where
Ceres'
full-ear'd
sheaves
abound
,
And
Flora
paints
th'
enamel'd
ground
;
To
feel
,
from
every
pressure
free
,
The
joys
of
Truth
and
Poetry
;
Let
Contemplation
string
my
lyre
,
And
Zeal
supply
poetic
fire
;
Then
let
me
Nature's
wonders
sing
,
And
praise
the
power
of
Nature's
King
:
While
as
by
chance
I
turn
my
sight
,
New
objects
strike
with
new
delight
;
Till
fresh
ideas
hourly
spring
,
And
urge
Imagination's
wing
.
Here
Knowledge
,
quicken'd
by
Delight
,
Shall
rouse
the
soul
to
vigorous
flight
:
Rapt
with
the
thought
,
methinks
I
rise
To
meditate
my
kindred
skies
;
At
once
the
past
and
present
view
,
Compare
the
former
with
the
new
;
Survey
the
world
from
pole
to
pole
,
Join
clime
to
clime
,
and
grasp
the
whole
;
To
each
effect
the
cause
conjoin
,
And
trace
the
Original
divine
;
Awaken'd
Hope
directs
my
way
Thro'
all
the
spacious
realms
of
day
;
Views
the
resplendent
courts
above
,
Blest
mansion
of
seraphic
love
!
Refulgent
throne
of
power
divine
,
Where
calm
celestial
splendors
shine
;
Whence
beams
of
emanating
light
From
Nature
chase
retiring
night
.
Quick
to
my
breast
new
beauties
rise
,
I
pant
to
range
my
native
skies
;
But
here
,
encumber'd
with
her
clay
,
My
Soul
must
wait
the
final
day
;
And
now
but
short
excursions
make
,
And
joys
thro'
long
perspectives
take
;
Such
joys
as
virtuous
souls
improve
,
And
heighten
wonder
into
love
.
Then
fill'd
with
reverence
and
delight
,
Back
to
the
world
I
take
my
flight
;
Back
to
my
much
lov'd
groves
again
,
Where
honest
joys
alternate
reign
;
Where
thro'
Creation's
mighty
round
,
Unnumber'd
miracles
abound
,
And
,
form'd
instruction
to
convey
,
The
Almighty
Father's
power
display
;
Amaz'd
I
view
the
splendid
dye
Of
this
enamel'd
butterfly
;
Amaz'd
each
reptile
insect
see
,
Each
blest
with
life
as
well
as
we
.
Wherever
we
direct
our
eyes
,
Ten
thousand
various
forms
arise
;
On
each
a
life
of
different
mode
By
boundless
Providence
bestow'd
;
From
small
to
less
,
from
high
to
higher
,
Till
Reason
,
Sense
,
and
Fancy
tire
;
While
all
in
due
proportion
shine
,
To
prove
the
economy
divine
.
With
serious
joy
the
enlighten'd
soul
Surveys
a
part
,
admires
the
whole
;
Nor
always
silently
surveys
,
But
,
fir'd
by
gratitude
to
praise
,
In
holy
confidence
is
blest
,
And
calmly
waits
eternal
rest
.