A Prospect

'Twas tow'rds the Evening of the Day, When Books lie still, and Scholars play, That having got an Hour to spare, I walked out to take the Air; To which the Heavens did invite, With Smiles that promised Delight.

My Walk upon a Bank I took, Which was the Margin to a Brook, Whose crystal Streams so small did slide, As if they fear'd to be descry'd, Save that a Pebble, here and there, Whisper'd their Flight into mine Ear.

Hence I design'd to take a View, Of NATURE in her richest Hue: Nor should I think my Labour lost To see the like at double Cost. The Birds, in various Notes, did sing A Penegyrick to the Spring; Each strove, I think, to do her best, But Philomel excell'd the rest; The Trees serv'd for a shady Screen, Hung round with Canopies of green, And some were here and there imboss'd With Blossoms, at Dame Nature's Cost, Which with a gentle Zephyr play'd, And pretty whist'ling Murmurs made. Which Way so e'er I turn'd mine Eye, I saw well-mix'd Variety; The fine wrought Tap'stry of the Field, Did many pretty Landscapes yield: Here Wheat, there Barley, did appear, Some in the Blade, some in the Ear; The Pease in Bloom, and Beans in Flow'r, Stood waiting for a gentle Show'r; For fear of which, in Haste home flies The Bee with Honey-laden Thighs. The Meadows, in their Grass-green Vest, Methought were very neatly drest, Not only neat, but richly fraught, With checquer'd Flowers finely wrought, Cowslips and Violets intermixt, And tufted Daises cast betwixt; Each Object did affect my Sight, With sweetest innocent Delight.

But stay'd I there? Oh no, my Heart Cry'd still, Give me the better Part, Let me with Him for ever live, That to these Things doth Being give; Exterior Things may please each Sense, And be enjoy'd without Offence, But nothing but a Power divine, Can make their Virtues truly mine; Thy Wisdom, therefore so infuse Into my Heart, that I may use Thy Creatures as they ought to be, And still return the Praise to Thee, To whom the highest Praise is due, O GOD most holy, just and true.