Which he that hears it with a shout repeats, ARGUMENT OF THE SIXTH BOOK. Pells at a distance.-Their effect.-A fine noon in winter. A sheltered walk.-Meditation better than books. Our familiarity with the course of nature makes it appear less wonderful than it is. -The transformation that spring effects in a shrubbery described.-A mistake concerning the course of nature corrected.-God maintains it by an unremitted act.-The amusements fashionable at this hour of the day reproved.-Animals happy, a delightful sight.-Origin of cruelty to animals. -That it is a great crime proved from Scripture. -That proof illustrated by a tale.-A line drawn between the lawful and unlawful destruction of them. Their good and useful properties insisted on. Apology for the encomiums bestowed by the author on animals.-Instances of man's extravagant praise of man.-The groans of the creation shall have an end.-A view taken of the restoration of all things.-An invocation and an invitation of Him, who shall bring it to pass.-The retired man vindicated from the charge of uselessness. Conclusion. THE TASK. BOOK VI. THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. THERE is in souls a sympathy with sounds, And as the mind is pitch'd the ear is pleased With melting airs or martial, brisk or grave; Some chord in unison with what we hear Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies. How soft the music of those village bells, Falling at intervals upon the ear In cadence sweet, now dying all away, Now pealing loud again, and louder still, Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on! With easy force it opens all the cells Where Memory slept. Wherever I have heard A kindred melody, the scene recurs, And with it all its pleasures and its pains. Such comprehensive views the spirit takes, That in a few short moments I retrace (As in a map the voyager his course) The windings of my way through many years. Short as in retrospect the journey seems, It seem'd not always short; the rugged path, And prospect oft, so dreary and forlorn, Moved many a sigh at its disheartening length. Yet feeling present evils, while the past Faintly impress the mind, or not at all, How readily we wish time spent revoked, That we might try the ground again where once When most severe, and mustering all its force, Whose favour, like the clouds of spring, might lower, And, seeking grace to improve the prize they hold, The night was winter in his roughest mood; The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon, Upon the southern side of the slant hills, And where the woods fence off the northern blast, The season smiles, resigning all its rage, And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue Without a cloud, and white without a speck The dazzling splendour of the scene below. |