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turn to nourishment, digested well.
For, ere the beech and elin have cast their leaf Ef the garden with it's many cares,
Deciduous, when now November dark well repaid, demand him, he attends
Checks vegetation in the torpid plant welcome call, conscious how much the hand Expos’d to his cold breath, the task begins. lubbard Labour needs his watchful eye, Warily therefore, and with prudent heed, loit'ring lazily, if not o'erseen,
He seeks a favour'd spot; that where he builds misapplying his unskilful strength.
Th' agglomerated pile his frame may front does he govern only or direct,
The Sun's meridian disk, and at the back t much performs himself. No works, indeed, Enjoy close shelter, wall, or reeds, or hedge at ask robust, tough sinews, bred to toil, Impervious to the wind. First he bids spread vile employ; but such as may amuse,
Dry fern or litter'd hay, that may imbibe t tire, demanding rather skill than force. Th' ascending damps; then leisurely impose, pud of his well-spread walls, he views his trees, And lightly, shaking it with agile hand at meet, no barren interval between,
From the full fork, the saturated straw. th pleasure more than ev'n their fruits afford; What longest binds the closest forms secure lich, save himself who trains them, none can feel. The shapely side, that as it rises takes, ese therefore are his own peculiar charge; By just degrees, an overhanging breadth,
meaner hand may discipline the shoots, Shelt'ring the base with its projected eaves ; ne but his steel approach them. What is weak, Th’uplifted frame compact at ev'ry joint, Stemper’d, or has lost prolific pow'rs,
And overlaid with clear translucent glass, pair'd by age, his unrelenting hand
He settles next upon the sloping mount, oms to the knife: nor does he spare the soft Whose sharp declivity shoots off secure ad succulent, that feeds it's giant growth, From the dash'd pane the deluge as it falls. at barren, at th' expense of neighb'ring twigs He shuts it close, and the first labour ends. ss ostentatious, and yet studded thick
Thrice must the voluble and restless Earth ith hopeful gems. The rest, no portion left Spin round upon her axle, ere the warmth, aat may disgrace his art, or disappoint
Slow gath'ring in the midst, through the square mass urge expectation, he disposes neat
Diffus'd, attain the surface : when, behold ! E measur'd distances, that air and sun,
A pestilent and most corrosive steam, dmitted freely, may afford their aid,
Like a gross fog Bæotian, rising fast, nd ventilate and warm the swelling buds. And fast condens'd upon the dewy sash, ence Summer has her riches, Autumn hence, Asks egress; which obtain'd, the overcharg'd nd hence ev'n Winter fills his wither'd hand And drench'd conservatory breathes abroad, ith blushing fruits, and plenty not his own. In volumes wheeling slow, the vapour dark ; air recompense of labour well bestow'd,
And, purified, rejoices to have lost nd wise precaution; which a clime so rude Its foul inhabitant. But to assuage akes needful still, whose Spring is but the child Th' impatient fervour, which it first conceives f churlish Winter, in her froward moods
Within its reeking bosom, threat’ning death iscov'ring much the temper of her sire.
To his young hopes, requires discreet delay. or oft, as if in her the stream of mild
Experience, slow preceptress, teaching oft laternal nature had revers'd it's course,
The way to glory by miscarriage foul, he brings her infants forth with many smiles ; Must prompt him, and admonish how to catch But once deliver'd kills them with a frown. Th' auspicious moment, when the temper'd heat, le therefore, timely warn’d himself, supplies Friendly to vital motion, may afford Her want of care, screening and keeping warm Soft fomentation, and invite the seed, he plenteous bloom, that no rough blast may sweep The seed, selected wisely, plump, and smooth, His garlands from the boughs. Again, as oft And glossy, he commits to pots of size s the Sun peeps and vernal airs breathe mild, Diminutive, well fill'd with well prepar'd Che fence withdrawn, he gives them ev'ry beam, And fruitful soil, that has been treasur'd long, ind spreads his hopes before the blaze of day. And drank no moisture from the dripping clouds.
To raise the prickly and green-coated gourd, These on the warm and genial earth, that hides o grateful to the palate, and when rare
The smoking manure, and o'erspreads it all, Eo coveted, else base and disesteemid
He places lightly, and, as time subdues Food for the vulgar merely – is an art
The rage of fermentation, plunges deep That toiling ages have but just matur'd,
In the soft medium, till they stand immers'd. And at this moment unassay'd in song.
Then rise the tender germs, upstarting quick, iet gnats have had, and frogs and mice, long since, And spreading wide their spongy lobes ; at first "heir eulogy; those sang the Mantuan bard, Pale, wan, and livid ; but assuming soon, And these the Grecian, in ennobling strains ; If fann'd by balmy and nutritious air, And in thy numbers, Phillips, shines for aye Strain'd through the friendly mats, a vivid green. The solitary shilling. Pardon then,
Two leaves produc'd, two rough indented leaves, Ye sage dispensers of poetic fame,
Cautious he pinches from the second stalk Th' arbition of one meaner far, whose pow'rs A pimple, that portends a future sprout, Presuming an attempt not less sublime,
And interdicts it's growth. Thence straight succeed Pant for the praise of dressing to the taste
The branches, sturdy to his utmost wish; Of critic appetite, no sordid fare,
Prolific all, and harbingers of more. A cucumber, while costly yet and scarce.
The crowded roots demand enlargement now, The stable yields a stercoraceous heap,
And transplantation in an ampler space. Impregnated with quick fermenting salts,
Indulg'd in what they wish, they soon supply And potent to resist the freezing blast;
Large foliage, overshad’wing golden flow'rs,
Blown on the summit of th' apparent fruit. Of their complete effect. Much yet remains
And more laborious; cares on which depends From flow'r to flow'r, and ev'n the breathing air Their vigour, injur'd soon, not soon restor'd. Wafts the rich prize to it's appointed use.
The soil must be renew'd, which often wash'd Not so when Winter scowls. Assistant Art Loses its treasure of salubrious salts, Then acts in Nature's office, brings to pass
And disappoints the roots; the slender roots The glad espousals, and ensures the crop.
Close interwoven, where they meet the vase Grudge not, ye rich, (since Luxury must have Must smooth be shorn away; the sapless branch His dainties, and the world's more num'rous half Must fly before the knife; the wither'd leaf Lives by contriving delicates for you,)
Must be detach'd, and where it strews the floor Grudge not the cost.
Ye little know the cares, Swept with a woman's neatness, breeding else The vigilance, the labour, and the skill
Contagion, and disseminating death.
Would spare, that loves them, offices like these?) 'That ye may garnish your profuse regales
Well they reward the toil. The sight is pleas'd, With summer fruits brought forth by wint'ry suns. The scent regal'd, each odorif'rous leaf, Ten thousand dangers lie in wait to thwart Each op'ning blossom, freely breathes abroad The process. Heat and cold, and wind, and steam, It's gratitude, and thanks him with it's sweets. Moisture and drought, mice, worms, and swarming So manifold, all pleasing in their kind, Aies,
All healthful, are th' employs of rural life, Minute as dust, and numberless, oft work
Reiterated as the wheel of time Dire disappointment, that admits no cure,
Runs round; still ending, and beginning still. And which no care can obviate. It were long, Nor are these all. To deck the shapely knoll, Too long, to tell th' expedients and the shifts, That softly swelld and gaily dress'd appears Which he that fights a season so severe
A flow'ry island, from the dark green lawn Devises, while he guards his tender trust;
Emerging, must be deem'd a labour due And oft at last in vain. The learn'd and wise To no mean band, and asks the touch of taste. Sarcastic would exclaim, and judge the song Here also grateful mixture of well-match'd Cold as it's theme, and like it's theme the fruit And sorted hues (each giving each relief, Of too much labour, worthless when produc'd. And by contrasted beauty shining more)
Who loves a garden, loves a greenhouse too. Is needful. Strength may wield the pond'rous Unconscious of a less propitious clime,
And most attractive, is the fair result
Without it, all is Gothic as the scene
To which th' insipid citizen resorts Peep through their polish'd foliage at the storm, Near yonder heath ; where Industry mis-spent, And seem to smile at what they need not fear. But proud of his uncouth ill-chosen task, Th' amomum there with intermingling flow'rs Has inade a Heav'n on Earth ; with suns and moons And cherries hangs her twigs. Geranium boasts Of close-ramm'd stones has charged th' encumber'd Her crimson honours; and the spangled beau,
soil, Ficoides, glitters bright the winter long.
And fairly laid the zodiac in the dust. All plants, of ev'ry leaf, that can endure
He, therefore, who would see his flow'rs dispos'd The winter's frown, if screen'd from his shrewd bite, Sightly and in just order, ere he gives Live there, and prosper. Those Ausonia claims, The beds the trusted treasure of their seeds, Levantine regions these ; th' Azores send
Forecasts the future whole; that when the scene Their jessamine: her jessamine remote
Shall break into it's preconceiv'd display, Caffraia : foreigners from many lands,
Each for itself, and all as with one voice
Nor even then, dismissing as perform'd
Few self-supported flow'rs endure the wind
Uninjur'd, but expect th' upholding aid Must lend it's aid t'illustrate all their charms, Of the smooth-shaven prop, and, neatly tied, And dress the regular yet various scene.
Are wedded thus, like beauty to old age, Plant behind plant aspiring, in the van
For int'rest sake, the living to the dead. The dwarfish, in the rear retir’d, but still
Some clothe the soil that feeds them, far diffus'd Sublime above the rest, the statelier stand.
And lowly creeping, modest and yet fair, So once were rang'd the sons of ancient Rome, Like Virtue, thriving most where little seen : A noble show! while Roscius trod the stage ; Some more aspiring catch the neighbour shrub And so, while Garrick, as renown'd as he,
With clasping tendrils, and invest his branch, The sons of Albion ; fearing each to lose
Else unadorn'd, with many a gay festoon Some note of Nature's music from his lips, And fragrant chaplet, recompensing well And covetous of Shakspeare's beauty, seen The strength they borrow with the grace they lead. In ev'ry flash of his far-beaming eye.
All hate the rank society of weeds, Nor taste alone and well-contriv'd display
Noisome, and ever greedy to exhaust Suffice to give the marshall'd ranks the grace Th' impor'rish'd earth ; an overbearing race,
That, like the multitude made faction-mad, What England was, plain, hospitable, kind, Disturb good order, and degrade true worth And undebauch'd. But we have bid farewell O blest seclusion from a jarring world,
To all the virtues of those better days, Which he, thus occupied, enjoys! Retreat
And all their honest pleasures. Mansions once Cannot indeed to guilty man restore
Knew their own masters; and laborious hinds, Lost innocence, or cancel follies past ;
Who had surviv'd the father, serv'd the son.
Is but a transient guest, newly arriv'd,
As soon to be supplanted. He, that saw By vicious Custom, raging uncontrollid
His patrimonial timber cast it's leaf, Abroad, and desolating public life.
Sells the last scantling, and transfers the price When fierce Temptation, seconded within
To some shrewd sharper, ere it buds again. By traitor Appetite, and arm’d with darts
Estates are landscapes, gaz'd upon awhile, Temper'd in Hell, invades the throbbing breast, Then advertis'd and auctioneer'd away. (charg'd To combat may be glorious, and success
The country starves, and they, that feed th' o'erPerhaps may crown us; but to fly is safe.
And surfeited lewd town with her fair dues, Had I the choice of sublunary good,
By a just judgment strip and starve themselves. What could I wish, that I possess not here? (peace, The wings, that waft our riches out of sight, Health, leisure, means t' improve it, friendship, Grow on the gamester's elbows, and th' alert No loose or wanton, though a wand'ring, Muse, And nimble motion of those restless joints, And constant occupation without care.
That never tire, soon fans them all away. Thus blest, I draw a picture of that bliss;
Improvement, too, the idol of the age, Hopeless indeed, that dissipated minds,
Is fed with many a victim. Lo, he comes ! And profligate abusers of a world
Th' omnipotent magician, Brown, appears ! Created fair so much in vain for them,
Down falls the venerable pile, th' abode Should seek the guiltless joys, that I describe, Of our forefathers - - a grave whisker'd race, Allur'd by my report : but sure no less,
But tasteless. Springs a palace in it's stead, That self-condemn'd they must neglect the prize, But in a distant spot; where more expos'd And what they will not taste must yet approve. It may enjoy th' advantage of the north, What we admire, we praise ; and, when we praise, And aguish east, till time shall have transform'd Advance it into notice, that, it's worth
Those naked acres to a shelt'ring grove. Acknowledg’d, others may admire it too.
He speaks. The lake in front becomes a lawn ; I therefore recommend, though at the risk
Woods vanish, hills subside, and valleys rise; Of popular disgust, yet boldly still,
And streams, as if created for his usc, The cause of piety, and sacred truth,
Pursue the track of his directing wand, And virtue, and those scenes, which God ordain'd Sinuous or straight, now rapid and now slow, Should best secure them, and promote them most; Now murm'ring soft, now roaring in cascades — Scenes that I love, and with regret perceive Ev'n as he bids! Th' enraptur'd owner smiles. Forsaken, or through folly not enjoy'd.
'T is finish'd, and yet, finish'd as it seems, Pure is the nymph, though lib'ral of her smiles, Still wants a grace, the loveliest it could show, And chaste, though unconfin'd, whom I extol. A mine to satisfy th' enormous cost. Not as the prince in Shushan, when he callid, Drain'd to the last poor item of his wealth, Vain-glorious of her charms, his Vashti forth, He sighs, departs, and leaves th’accomplish'd plan, To grace the full pavilion. His design
That he has touch'd, retouch’d, many a long day Was but to boast his own peculiar good,
Labour'd, and many a night pursu'd in dreams, Which all might view with envy, none partake. Just when it meets his hopes, and proves the Heav'n My charmer is not mine alone; my sweets, He wanted, for a wealthier to enjoy ; And she, that sweetens all my bitters too,
And now perhaps the glorious hour is come, Nature, enchanting Nature, in whose form
When, having no stake left, no pledge t'endear And lineaments divine I trace a hand,
Her int'rests, or that gives her sacred cause
He burns with most intense and flagrant zeal, Strange that so fair a creature should yet want To serve his country. Ministerial grace Admirers, and be destin'd to divide
Deals him out money from the public chest;
To be refunded duly, when his vote
Well manag'd shall have earn'd it's worthy price. Abandon'd, as unworthy of our love.
O innocent, compar'd with arts like these, But are not wholesome airs, though unperfum'd Crape, and cock'd pistol, and the whistling ball By roses ; and clear suns, though scarcely felt; Sent through the trav'ller's temples! He that finds And groves, if unharmonious, yet secure
One drop of Heav'n's sweet mercy in his cup, From clamour, and whose very silence charms; Can dig, beg, rot, and perish, well content ; To be preferr'd to smoke, to the eclipse,
So he may wrap himself in honest rags That metropolitan volcanoes make, [long ; At his last gasp; but could not for a world Whose Stygian throats breathe darkness all day Fish up his dirty and dependent bread And to the stir of Commerce, driving slow, From pools and ditches of the commonwealth, And thund'ring loud, with his ten thousand wheels? Sordid and sick’ning at his own success. They would be, were not madness in the head, Ambition, av'rice, penury incurr'd And folly in the heart; were England now, By endless riot, vanity, the lust
Of pleasure and variety, dispatch,
Is to conduct it to the destin'd inn;
And, having dropp'd th' expecud bag, pass on
Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet
With tears, that trickled down the writer's checks The levee swarms as if in golden pomp
Fast as the periods from his fluent quill, Were character'd on ev'ry statesman's door, Or charg'd with am'rous sighs of absent swains, “ Battee'd AND BANKRUPT
Or nymphs responsive, equally affect
His horse and him, unconscious of them all.
What are its tidings ? have our troops awak'd? The hope of better things, the chance to win, Or do they still, as if with opium drugg'd, The wish to shine, the thirst to be amus'd,
Snore to the murmurs of the Atlantic wave? That at the sound of Winter's hoary wing
Is India free? and does she wear her plum'd
And jewell'd turban with a smile of peace,
The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit,
And the loud laugh — I long to know them all; Chequer'd with all complexions of mankind, I burn to set th' imprison'd wranglers free, And spotted with all crimes; in whom I see And give them voice and utt’rance once again Much that I love, and more that I admire,
Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, And all that I abhor; thou freckled fair,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, That pleasest and yet shock'st me, I can laugh, And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn And I can weep, can hope, and can despond, Throws up a steamy column, and the cups Feel wrath and pity, when I think on thee ! That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, Ten righteous would have sav'd a city once, So let us welcome peaceful ev'ning in. And thou hast many righteous. — Well for thee Not such his ev'ning, who with shining face That salt preserves thee ; more corrupted else, Sweats in the crowded theatre, and, squeez'd And therefore more obnoxious, at this hour, And bor'd with elbow-points through both his sides, Than Sodom in her day had pow'r to be,
Outscolds the ranting actor on the stage : For whom God heard his Abr'ham plcad in vain. Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb,
And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath
of patriots, bursting with heroic rage, Book IV.
Or placemen, all tranquillity and smiles.
This folio of four pages, happy work!
Which not ev'n critics criticise; that holds
Inquisitive Attention, while I read,
Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fair,
The World contemplated at a distance. Address What is it, but a map of busy life,
A The seals of office glitter in his eyes; poor family-piece. The rural thief. Public He climbs, he pants, he grasps them! At his heels, houses. The multitude of them censured. Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends, The farmer's daughter : what she was - what And with a dextrous jerk soon twists him down, she is. The simplicity of country manners And wins them, but to lose them in his turiu almost lost. Causes of the change. Desertion Here rills of oily eloquence in soft of the country by the rich. Neglect of magis- Meanders lubricate the course they take ; trates. The militia principally in fault. The The modest speaker is asham'd and griev'd new recruit and his transformation. Reflection | T' engross a inoment's notice; and yet begs, on bodies corporate.
The love of rural objects Begs a propitious ear for his poor thoughts, natural to all and never to be totally extinguished. However trivial all that he conceives.
Sweet bashfulness ! it claims at least this praise ;
In which all comprehension wanders lost;
But gay confusion; roses for the cheeks,
And lilies for the brows of faced age,
But here the needle plies it's busy task, Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald, The pattern grows, the well-depicted flow'r, Heav'n, earth, and ocean, plunder'd of their sweets, Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn, Nectareous essences, Olympian dews,
Unfolds it's bosom ; buds, and leaves, and sprigs, Sermons, and city feasts, and fav'rite airs,
And curling tendrils, gracefully dispos'd, Æthereal journies, submarine exploits,
Follow the nimble finger of the fair ; And Katerfelto, with his hair on end
A wreath, that cannot fade, of flow'rs, that blow At his own wonders, wond'ring for his bread. With most success when all besides decay.
'T is pleasant through the loop-holes of retrcat, The poet's or historian's page by one To peep at such a world ; to see the stir
Made vocal for th' amusement of the rest ; Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd; The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet sounds To hear the roar she sends through all her gates The touch from many a trembling chord shakes out; At a safe distance, where the dying sound
And the clear voice symphonious, yet distinct, Falls a soft murmur on th' uninjur'd ear.
And in the charming strife triumphant still ; Thus sitting, and surveying thus at ease
Beguile the night, and set a keener edge The globe and it's concerns, I seem advanc'd On female industry : the threaded steel To some secure and more than mortal height, Flies swiftly, and unfelt the task proceeds. That lib'rates and exempts me from them all. The volume clos'd, the customary rites It turns submitted to my view, turns round Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal; With all it's generations; I behold
Such as the mistress of the world once found The tumult, and am still. The sound of war Delicious, when her patriots of high note, Has lost it's terrours ere it reaches me;
Perhaps by moonlight, at their humble doors, Grieves, but alarms me not. I mourn the pride And under an old oak's domestic shade, And av’rice, that make man a wolf to man; Enjoy'd, spare feast ! a radish and an egg. Hear the faint echo of those brazen throats, Discourse ensues, not trivial, yet not dull, By which he speaks the language of his heart, Nor such as with a frown forbids the play And sigh, but never tremble at the sound.
Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirth : He travels and expatiates, as the bee
Nor do we madly, like an impious world, From flow'r to flow'r, so he from land to land ; Who deem religion phrenzy, and the God, The manners, customs, policy, of all
That made them, an intruder on their joys, Pay contribution to the store he gleans ;
Start at his aweful name, or deem bis praise
A jarring note. Themes of a graver tone.
While we retrace with Mem'ry's pointing wand, He travels, and I too. I tread his deck,
That calls the past to our exact review, Ascend his topmast, through his peering eyes The dangers we have 'scaped, the broken snare, Discover countries, with a kindred heart
The disappointed foe, deliv’rance found Suffer his woes, and share in his escapes ;
Unlook'd for, life preserv'd, and peace restor'd, While fancy, like the finger of a clock,
Fruits of omnipotent eternal love.
The Sabine bard. O ev'nings, I reply,
The pent-up breath of an unsav'ry throng,
And snappish dialogue, that Aippant wits
The self-complacent actor, when he views Short'ning his journey between morn and noon, (Stealing a sidelong glance at a full house) And hurrying him, impatient of his stay,
The slope of faces, from the floor to th' roof Down to the rosy west ; but kindly still
(As if one master-spring controll’d them all) Compensating his loss with added hours
Relax'd into a universal grin, Of social converse and instructive ease,
Sees not a count'nance there, that speaks of joy And gath'ring, at short notice, in one group,
Half so refin'd or so sincere as ours. The family dispers’d, and fixing thought, i Cards were superfluous here, with all the tricks, Not less dispers'd by daylight and it's cares. That idleness has ever yet contriv'd I crown thee king of intimate delights,
To fill the void of an unfurnish'd brain, Fire-side enjoyments, home-born happiness, To palliate Dulness and give Time a shove. And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Time, as he passes us, has a dove's wing Of undisturbid Retirement, and the hours
Unsoil'd, and swift, and of a silken sound ; Of long uninterrupted ev'ning, know.
But the World's Tíme is Time in masquerade! No rattling wheels stop short before these gates ; Theirs, should I paint him, has his pinionis terg'd No powder'd pert, proficient in the art
With motley plumes; and, where the peacock slow's Of sounding an alarm, assaults these doors His azure eyes, is tinctur'd black and red Till the street rings; no stationary steeds
With spots quadrangular of diamond form, Cough their own knell, while, heedless of the sound, Ensanguin'd hearts, clubs typical of strife, The silent circle fan themselves, and quake : And spades, the emblem of untimely graves.