37

crofs

7.

On Avon's winding bank, with flowers befprent,

Whilome y dwelt a thrifty fober fwaine ; On care and labour aye was he intent, And lowing herds, and flocks upon the plan, { pain. And plenteous crops, rewarded well his Cheap his attire, and frugal were his meals, [gain; His bargs were (well'd with no difhoneft A hard rough hand his fource of wealth reveals,

[feels. Ne idle hour he knows, ne weariness he 3.

Hight Industry was he, of parents poor; But foon by labour he removen had

Their poverty, and from his well-got ftore,

Their aged limbs with decency y clad. Yet now, alas! their boloms waxen fad,

That he, their only child, ne wife effays, Ne little grandlings brought, their hearts to glad

With idle parlance, and with childish plays To cheer, and lengthen out the evening of their days.

4.

But near at hand, in bower of jeffemy And roses, nature's beauties mixt with art, A maiden dwelt, fo fair that only she Was theme of every tongue, and every heart:

Yet few to gain her love mought boaft defert,

Sith, to her beauty join'd, was clearly feen A wit fo bright, a mind with every part

Of science fo illum'd, that well I ween, Her meed in auncient Greece had bin the mufes queen.

5.

All in the clear conception of her mind The fairest forms of things depainted were; And the leaft fhade of difference the

38

RURAL HAPPINESS.

APPY the man, to whom kind'heav'n

HA few paternal fields has giv'p;

Thereon a ufeful stock to graze,

To guard from want, and live at case :
A cottage neatly kept and clean,
And by it close a running stream;
A garden join'd, that does afford
Sufficient for its master's board;
Therein a bower where jeffamine,
And fragrant honey fuckles join,
With artful wreaths, at fcorching noon,
T expel the fury of the fun.

If fuch my lot, what thou'd I more?
I'd covet not the mifer's store;
'I wou'd not wish for shining state;
Or view, with envious eyes, the great;
Or figh for fplendors of a court,
Where kings themselves are fortune's sport,
Unmov'd and calm, I'd hear from far
The noise and thunder of the war;
Where, 'midft alarms, and cannons roar ;
'Midt dying groans, and feas of gore,
The guilty foldier hunts for fame;
And, ftain'd with blood, acquires a name.
I'd unconcern'd the merchant view
"Thro' ftormy feas his way pursue,
In fearch of gain, still wanting more
(Tho' rich enough) t'encrease his store.
Exempt from fuits ferenely hear
The brawls of the litigious bar;
Where perjur'd gownmen wreft the laws,
And, brib'd, give up the jufteft caufe.

From giddy crowds, and faction freed, When earn'd, I'd eat my peaceful bread : Nor thou'd my hand refufe the plough, Or gather what I did not fow: Nor wou'd I, undeferving, wear What from my fheep I did not fhear; All labour needful to bestow, With chearful heart I'd undergo.

Reliev'd from that, and time to spare, I now and then wou'd courfe a hare :

Another time the angler's fkill,

A vacant hour or two thou'd fill.
Diverfions each, with moderate ufe,
That to a reverend age conduce.
Sometimes, to know what happ'd of

yore,
I'd o'er a fage historian pore;
Or elfe an hour or two I'd spend
With Pope, or fome poetick friend;
Each in degree my shelf fhou'd grace,
From Homer down to Hudibras.

On Sundays always-once a day-
I'd go to hear the parfon pray;
Or from his pulpit make oration,
With now and then a good quotation;
And if his text he handled nice,
Perhaps I'd go to hear him twice.

Another time, in chearful mood,
If near my homely dwelling stood
(And that I'd with a cot or two,
With a good honeft friend, or fo,
'I wou'd a pleasant evening pass ;
Where, free from fcandal, o'er a glafs,
Or fpacious jug of fparkling beer
(To Burgundy fuperior far)
We wou'd of various things debate ;
Or pun, or joke, or tale relate :
And then anon the fubject turn,
And talk about our own concern ;
As how our fields we thou'd bestow;
Which best for pafture which for plough:
What fruit wou'd fuch an orchard yield;
What loads of corn, wou'd fuch a field.
That o'er, we'd chat of other things,
And boldly weigh the fate of kings;
And, free from passion, gravely utter
Our fentiments upon the matter;
How far their quarrels bad or good,
And which the right or wrong purfu'd :
Or elfe compare our happy station,
With thofe call'd rulers of the nation;
Who, ignorant of the happy fate,
That does attend a private state;
And placing all their happiness
In grandeur, poorly fell their peace.
Thus chat, till each with fleep oppreft,
And moderate charge, retir'd to rest.

One thing remains to fweeten life,
An honest and a careful wife;
Who lov'd and loving, foft and kind,
When gloomy cares wou'd fill my mind,
With fweet endearments wou'd repel
The fiend, and crush the growing ill:
And, more to bless the nuptial tye,
A blooming girl and lusty bey;
T'enjoy, when we are dead and gone,
The little fpot we bred 'em on :
To close our eyes, when stealing death
Should rob us of our parting breath;
For I this other boon wou'd crave,
One dart to fend us to the grave.
Nor thou'd our lives be only fuch
As ferve to guard us from reproach;

But

WE Charms,

HEN Jove had feen Belinda's

He felt a pleafing smart ;
While Cupid rush'd with conq'ring arms,
Like lightning through his heart.
He vow'd revenge, and with a frown,
Swore by the river Styx,

The fon of Venus he'd throw down
From heaven, for such tricks.

Hearing these words, with great furprize,
The boy to Paphos flew ;

While tears did trickle from his eyes,
Like drops of morning dew.

What means thy grief? the goddess cry'd,

Or who has hurt my fon?

The trembling urchin thus reply'd
Alas! I am undone.

I from Olympus muft depart,

At angry Jove's command, (Because I ftruck him with a dart)

Unto fome unknown land.

Ske faid, my child, pray be at reft,
Unto the earth repair;

Fly down upon Belinda's breast,
You'll find a heaven there.

To Mr. WORLICHE, on feeing his beautiful Collection of Pictures under the Little Piazza in Covent-Garden.

COME, goddess of the pencil ! quit the

foil,

[come, Where thy dear Raphael lies inurn'd: Oh! And with thy prefence blefs the British ifle; Where genius, working her ideal schemes, Invites thee.See, the comes! Hefperia feels

[fcends,

No more her gracious step; here the deAnd makes thy bofom, Worliche, her re

treat.

Heav'n-favour'd artift! at thy happy touch

A new creation rifes into life.

59

Whether thy flowing pencil, o'er the brow
Of veftal beauty, fpreads angelick grace:
Whether the nervous line, impassion'd
strong,

Speaks all the virtue of a patriot foul;
Sets forth the fparkling eye of honour, full,
In fome exalted chief; or, in the form
Of fwelling eloquence, feems to command
Attention: Whether in the rural scene,
You trace fecluded nature to her wild
Recefs; purfue her by the willow-shaded
brook,

The daify'd meadow, or the virid grove;
The winding glade, the lofty waving wood,
The fcarce-frequented copfe, the moss-
edg'd fount,
[rock:

The fteril heath, dank moor, or craggy In ail expanded fancy lively thines, Through all unerring judgment beauteous' reigns,

Correctly regular, and nobly free.

What youthful Ammon, in his glorious heat, [breach, Perform'd on Granic's flood, or Gaza's Apelles with an equal luftre drew.

(1) Timanthes rather ftrove to charm the

mind,

[like hand Than please thy eye. By Guido's god(2) Lucretia bleeds afreth. Thy facred form, (3) Methiah, ev'n in death, strongly pro

claims

40

form'd,

T

HE poet, in propofing his fubje&t, discovers Saturn, or Time, to be an enemy to his Hero. Then briefly touching the cause of his enmity, haftes into the midst of things, and prefents Scriblerus with his affociates traverfing the vast defarts of Africa, in queft of the Petrified City. Saturn perceiving he has now an opportunity of confummate revenge, by depriving the hero of his life; and, what is far more dear to him, his fame; prevails on Æolus to raise, by a whirlwind, a ftorm of fand over his head, and to bury him and his companions at once in oblivion. Scriblerus's speech; wherein he dif

covers the utmoft magnanimity, and fcorning fo base a death, by an unparallel'd prefence of mind, erects a structure of all his rarities, and fetting fire to it, prepares to throw himself amidst the flames. The god, taking the facrifice of fo large a collection as a full fubmiffion, consents to spare his life; but, to fruftrate his prefent expectations, directs the cloud of duft to fall on the petrified city, which is thereby buried. Scriblerus, unable to furvive the lofs of his treasures, is prevented from profecuting his defign of burning himself by a miracle wrought by the interpofition of the god Momus. After a fruitless fearch of fix days more, his companions prefs him to return. Scriblerus's fpeech to them: He perfifts in his refolution of continuing the fearch, till he is diffuaded from it by Albertus, who relates to him a fictitious dream. Scriblerus pronounces an elogy on prophetick dreams. He recounts his own dream; and laments the scarcity and uncertainty of all other modern oracles. Albertus advifes him to confult a Morofoph, whom he describes.

Where olus his airy fway maintains. When thus: Dread monarch of this drear abode,

Hear my request, affist a suppliant god. If, by my friendly aid, the mould'ring tow'r

Totters, at length, a victim to thy pow'r: If e'er my influence to thy force was join'd, O calm the pangs of my long-fuff'ring mind.

Torn from my arms, a daring traitor bears The labours of a thoufand anxious years. Loaded with thefe his facrilegious bands, From eldest Egypt, trace the Libyan fands. Hafte then the friendly office to perform : Call all thy winds and fwell th' impetuous