Himself enflav'd by terror of the band,
Th' audacious convict, whom he dares not bind.
Perhaps, though by profeffion ghoftly pure,
He too may have his vice, and sometimes prove
Lefs dainty than becomes his grave outfide
His milk-white hand; the palm is hardly cleanBut here and there an ugly smutch appears.
Foh! 'twas a bribe that left it: he has touch'd Corruption! Whofo feeks an audit here Propitious, pays his tribute, game or fish, Wild-fowl or ven'fon; and his errand speeds.
But fafter far, and more than all the rest,
A noble cause, which none who bears a spark
Of public virtue ever wifh'd remov'd,
Works the deplor'd and mischievous effect.
'Tis univerfal foldiership has stabb'd
The heart of merit in the meaner class.
Arms, through the vanity and brainless rage
Of those that bear them, in whatever cause,
Seem most at variance with all moral good,
And incompatible with ferious thought.
The clown, the child of nature, without guile,
Bleft with an infant's ignorance of all
But his own fimple pleasures; now and then
A wrestling match, a foot-race, or a fair;
Is ballotted, and trembles at the news:
Sheepish he doffs his hat, and, mumbling, fwears
A bible-oath to be whate'er they please,
To do he knows not what! The task perform'd,
That inftant he becomes the ferjeant's care,
His pupil, and his torment, and his jeft.
His awkward gait, his introverted toes,
Bent knees, round fhoulders, and dejected looks,
Procure him many a curfe. By flow degrees,
Unapt to learn, and form'd of ftubborn stuff,
yet by flow degrees puts off himself,
Grows conscious of a change, and likes it well: He ftands erect; his flouch becomes a walk;
He fteps right onward, martial in his air,
His form, and movement; is as fmart above
As meal and larded locks can make him; wears
His hat, or his plum'd helmet, with a grace;
And, his three years of herofhip expir'd,
Returns indignant to the flighted plough.
He hates the field, in which no fife or drum
Attends him; drives his cattle to a march;
And fighs for the fmart comrades he has left.
'Twere well if his exterior change were all-
But with his clumfy port the wretch has loft
His ignorance and harmless manners too!
To fwear, to game, to drink; to fhow at home,
By lewdnefs, idleness, and fabbath-breach,
The great proficiency he made abroad;
T'aftonish and to grieve his gazing friends;
To break fome maiden's and his mother's heart;
To be a peft where he was ufeful once;
Are his fole aim, and all his glory, now!
Man in fociety is like a flow'r
Blown in its native bed: 'tis there alone
His faculties, expanded in full bloom,
Shine out; there only reach their proper
But man, affociated and leagu'd with man
By regal warrant, or felf-join'd by bond
For int'reft-fake, or fwarming into clans
Beneath one head for purposes of war,
Like flow'rs felected from the reft, and bound
And bundled close to fill fome crowded vase,
Fades rapidly, and, by compreffion marr'd,
Contracts defilement not to be endur'd.
Hence charter'd boroughs are fuch public plagues;
And burghers, men immaculate perhaps
In all their private functions, once combin'd,
Become a loathfome body, only fit
For diffolution, hurtful to the main.
Hence merchants, unimpeachable of fin
Against the charities of domeftic life,
Incorporated, feem at once to lofe
Their nature; and, difclaiming all regard
For mercy and the common rights of man,
Build factories with blood, conducting trade
At the fword's point, and dyeing the white robe
Of innocent commercial justice red.
Hence, too, the field of glory, as the world
Mifdeems it, dazzled by its bright array,
With all its majesty of thund'ring pomp,
Enchanting mufic and immortal wreaths,
Is but a school where thoughtleffness is taught
On principle, where foppery atones
For folly, gallantry for ev'ry vice.
But, flighted as it is, and by the great Abandon'd, and, which ftill I more regret, Infected with the manners and the modes It knew not once, the country wins me ftill. I never fram'd a wish, or form'd a plan, That flatter'd me with hopes of earthly bliss, But there I laid the fcene. There early stray'd
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