The barren Mountain, and the rural Shade;
The mingled gay Profusion, Nature made,
To fit and tally, Art requires his Skill, }
From the moist Meadow; to the brown-brow'd Hill,
The silent shady Grove, or silver Rill.
To give a Grandeur to the Opening Lawn;
And pleasing Softness, to the solemn Dawn;
To join the vivid, with the vernal Bloom;
Where scarce a Sun Beam wanders thro' the Gloom.
This is the Art's Perfection well to know;