While sunburnt hills their swarthy looks conceal,
And swelling haycocks thicken up the vale:
When the loos’d horse now, as his pasture leads,
Comes slowly grazing thro’ th’ adjoining meads,
Whose stealing pace, and lengthen’d shade we fear,
Till torn-up forage in his teeth we hear:
When nibbling sheep at large pursue their food,
And unmolested kine rechew the cud;
When curlews cry beneath the village walls,
And to her straggling brood the partridge calls;