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Where then, ah! where shall poverty reside,
If to the city sped-What waits him there? To see profusion that he must not share; To see ten thousand baneful arts combin'd To pamper luxury, and thin mankind; To see each joy the sons of pleasure know Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe. Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade, There the pale artist plies the sickly trade; Here, while the proud their long drawn pomps
Do thine, sweet AUBURN, thine, the loveliest train, Do thy fair tribes participate her pain? E'en now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led, At proud men's doors they ask a little bread!
To distant climes, a dreary scene, Where half the convex world intrudes between, Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go, Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe. Far different there from all that charm'd before, The various terrors of that horrid shore; Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray, And fiercely shed intolerable day; Those matted woods where birds forget to sing, But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling; Those poisonous fields with rank luxuriancecrown'd, Where the dark scorpion gathers death around; Where at each step the stranger fears to wake The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake ; Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey, And savage men more murderous still than they ; While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies, Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies. Far different these from every former scene, The cooling brook, the
green, The breezy covert of the warbling grove, That only shelter'd thefts of harmless love. Good Heaven! what sorrows gloom'd that part
ing day That call'd them from their native walks away; When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, Hung round the bowers, and fondly look’d their last, And took a long farewell, and wish'd in vain For seats like these beyond the western main; And shuddering still to face the distant deep, Return'd and wept, and still return'd to weep !
The good old sire, the first prepar'd to go
O luxury! thou cürst by Heaven's decree, How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee! How do thy potions, with insidious joy, Diffuse thy pleasures only to destroy ! Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, Boast of a florid vigour not their own: At every draught more large and large they grow A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe; Till sapp'd their strength, and every part unsound, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.
E’en now the devastation is begun, And half the business of destruction done; E’en now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, I see the rural virtues leave the land. Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail, That idly waiting flaps with every gale, Downward they move, a melancholy band, Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. Contented toil, and hospitable care, And kind connubial tenderness, are there ; And piety with wishes plac'd above, And steady loyalty, and faithful love.
And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid,
IN BOW-STREET, COVENT-GARDEN.
Say, cruel Iris, pretty rake,
Dear mercenary beauty,
Expressive of my duty ?
My heart, a victim to thine eyes,
Should I at once deliver,
The gift, who slights the giver?
My rivals give—and let 'em; If gems, or gold, impart a joy,
I'll give them—when I get 'em.
I'll give—but not the full-blown rose,
Or rose-bud more in fashion : Such short-liv'd offerings but disclose
A transitory passion.
I'll give thee something yet unpaid,
Not less sincere, than civil : I'll give thee-ah! too charming maid,
I'll give thee-to the devil.