Of pleasure and variety, dispatch,

Is to conduct it to the destin'd inn; As duly as the swallows disappear,

And, having dropp'd th' expected bag, pass on. The world of wand'ring knights and squires to town. He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch, London ingulfs them all! The shark is there, Cold and yet cheerful: messenger of grief And the shark's prey; the spendthrift, and the leech Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some ; That sucks him: there the sycophant, and he To him indiff'rent whether grief or joy. Who, with bareheaded and obsequious bows, Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks, Begs a warm office, doom'd to a cold gaol Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet And groat per diem, if his patron frown.

With tears, that trickled down the writer's cheeks 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, “BATTER'DAND BANKRUPT FORTUNES MENDED HERE." Or nymphs responsive, equally affect These are the charms, that sully and eclipse His horse and him, unconscious of them all. The charms of nature. 'Tis the cruel gripe, But 0 th' important budget! usher'd in That lean, hard-handed Poverty inflicts,

With such heart-shaking music, who can say The hope of better things, the chance to win, What are its tidings? have our troops awak'd ? The wish to shine, the thirst to be amus'd,

Or do they still, as if with opium drugg'd, That at the sound of Winter's hoary wing

Snore to the murmurs of the Atlantic wave? Unpeople all our counties of such herds

Is India free? and does she wear her plum'd Of Aut'ring, loit'ring, cringing, begging, loose, And jeweld turban with a smile of peace, And wanton vagrants, as make London, vast Or do we grind her still? The grand debate, And boundless as it is, a crowded coop.

The popular harangue, the tart reply, O thou, resort and mart of all the Earth, The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit, Chequer'd with all complexions of mankind, And the loud laugh-I long to know them all ; And spotted with all crimes; in whom I see I burn to set th' imprison'd wranglers free, Much that I love, and more that I admire,

And give them voice and utt'rance once again. And all that I abhor; thou freckled fair,

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, That pleasest and yet shock’st me, I can laugh, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And I can weep, can hope, and can despond, And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn Feel wrath and pity, when I think on thee! Throws up a steamy column, and the cups Ten righteous would have sav'd a city once, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, And thou hast many righteous.— Well for thee- So let us welcome peaceful ev'ning in. That salt preserves thee; more corrupted else, Not such his ev’ning, who with shining face And therefore more obnoxious, at this hour, Sweats in the crowded theatre, and, squeez'd Than Sodom in her day had pow'r to be,

And bord with elbow-points through both his sides For whom God heard his Abr'ham plead in vain. Out-scolds the ranting actor on the stage :

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.
THE WINTER EVENING.

This folio of four pages, happy work!

Which not ev'n critics criticise ; that holds
Argument.

Inquisitive Attention, while I read,

Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fair, The post comes in. The newspaper is read. The Though eloquent themselves, yet fear to break;

World contemplated at a distance. Address to What is it, but a map of busy life, Winter. The rural amusements of a winter even. Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns ? ing compared with the fashionable ones. Ad- Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge, dress to evening. A brown study. Fall of snow That tempts Ambition. On the summit see in the evening. The wagoner. A poor family. The seals of office glitter in his eyes : piece. The rural thief. Public houses. The He climbs, he pants, he grasps them! At his heels multitude of them censured. The farmer's daugh-Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends, ter: what she was—what she is. The simplicity And with a dext'rous jerk soon twists him down, of country manners almost lost. Causes of the And wins them, but to lose them in his turn. change. Desertion of the country by the rich. Here rills of oily eloquence in soft Neglect of magistrates. The militia principally Meanders lubricate the course they take ; in fault. The new recruit and his transformation. The modest speaker is asham'd and griev'd Reflection on bodies corporate. The love of rural T' engross a moment's notice; and yet begs, objects natural to all, and never to be totally ex- Begs a propitious ear for his poor thoughts, tinguished.

However trivial all that he conceives.

Sweet bashfulness! it claims at least this praise ; HARK! 'tis the twanging horn o'er yonder bridge, The dearth of information and good sense, That with its wearisome but needful length That it foretells us, always comes to pass. Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the Moon Cat'racts of declamation thunder here: Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright; There forests of no meaning spread the page, He comes, the herald of a noisy world,

In which all comprehension wanders lost; With spatter'd boots, strapp'd waist, and frozen locks; While fields of pleasantry amuse us there News from all nations lumb’ring at his back. With merry descants on a nation's woes. True to his charge, the close-pack'd load behind, The rest appears a wilderness of strange Yet careless what he brings, his one concern But gay confusion; roses for the cheeks

1

And lilies for the brows of faded age,

But here the needle plies its 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 its bosom ; buds, and leaves, and sprigs,
Sermons, and city feasts, and fav'rite airs,

And curling tendrils, gracefully dispos'd,
Ethereal journeys, 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.

'Tis pleasant through the loop-holes of retreat, 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 strise triumphant still ;
Thus sitting, and surveying thus at ease

Beguile the night, and set a keener edge
The globe and its concerns, I seem advanc'd On female industry: the threaded steel
To some secure and more than mortal height, Flies swisily, 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 its 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,
Ilas lost its terrors 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; Enjoyd, 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 frenzy, 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 awful name, or deem his praise
He sucks intelligence in ev'ry clime,

A jarring note. Themes of a graver tone,
And spreads the honey of his deep research Exciting oft our gratitude and love,
At his return—a rich repast for me.

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 restord,
While fancy, like the finger of a clock,

Fruits of omnipotent eternal love.
Runs the great circuit, and is still at home. " O ev'nings worthy of the gods!" exclaim'd
O Winter, ruler of th' inverted year,

The Sabine bard. O ev'nings, I reply,
Thy scatter'd hair with sleet like ashes fillid, More to be priz'd and coveted than yours,
Thy breath congeald upon thy lips, thy cheeks As more illumin'd, and with nobler truths,
Fring’d with a beard made white with other snows That I, and mine, and those we love, enjoy.
Than those of age, thy forehead wrapp'd in clouds, Is Winter hideous in a garb like this?
A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne Needs he the tragic fur, the smoke of lamps,
A sliding car, indebted to no wheels,

The pent-up breath of an unsav'ry throng,
But urgʻd by storms along its slipp'ry way,

To thaw him into feeling; or the smart
I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st,

And snappish dialogue, that fippant wits And dreaded as thou art! Thou hold'st the Sun Call comedy, to prompt him with a smile ? A pris'ner in the yet undawning east,

The self-complacant 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 controlld 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,

Cards were superfluous here, with all the tricks
Not less dispersid by daylight and its 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 Dullness, and give Time a shove.
And all the comforts that the lowly roof

Time, as he passes us, has a dove's wing,
Of undisiurb'd Retirement, and the hours

Unsoil'd, and swift, and of a silken sound ; Of long uninterrupted ev’ning, know.

But the World's Time is Time in masquerade ! Yo rauiling wheels stop short before these gates ; Theirs, should I paint him, has his pinions fledg'd No powder'd pert, proficient in the art

With motley plumes; and, where the peacock shc .us 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. 96

3 0 2

What should be, and what was an hour-glass once, In the red cinders, while with poring eye
Becomes a dice-box, and a billiard mace

I gaz'd, myself creating what I saw.
Well does the work of his destructive scythe. Nor less amus'd have I quiescent watch'd
Thus deck’d, he charms a world whom fashion blinds The sooty films, that play upon the bars
To his true worth, most pleas'd when idle most; Pendulous, and foreboding in the view
Whose only happy are their wasted hours.

Of superstition, prophesying still,
Ev'n misses, at whose age their mothers wore Though still deceiv’d, some stranger's near approach
The backstring and the bib, assume the dress "Tis thus the understanding takes repose
Of womanhood, fit pupils in the school

In indolent vacuity of thought, Of card-devoted Time, and night by night

And sleeps and is refresh'd. Meanwhile the face Plac'd at some vacant corner of the board, Conceals the mood lethargic with a mask Learn ev'ry trick, and soon play all the game. of deep deliberation, as the man But truce with censure. Roving as I rove, Were task'd to his full strength, absorb'd and lost. Where shall I find an end, or how proceed ? Thus oft reclin'd at ease, I lose an hour As he that travels far oft turns aside

At ev'ning, till at length the freezing blast, To view some rugged rock or mould'ring tow'r, That sweeps the bolted shutter, summons home Which seen delights him not; then coming home The recollected pow'rs, and snapping short Describes and prints it, that the world may know The glassy threads, with which the Faney weares How far he went for what was nothing worth; Her britile toils, restores me io myself. So I, with brush in hand and pallet spread, How calm is my recess! and how the frost, With colors mix'd for a far diff'rent use,

Raging abroad, and the rough wind, endear Paint cards and dolls, and ev'ry idle thing, The silence and the warmth enjoy'd within ! That Fancy finds in her excursive flights.

I saw the woods and fields at close of day
Come, Ev'ning, once again, season of peace; A variegated show; the meadows green,
Return, sweet Ev'ning, and continue long! 'Though faded ; and the lands, where lately ward
Methinks I see thee in the streaky west,

The golden harvest, of a mellow brown,
With matron step slow moving, while the Night Upturn'd so lately by the forceful share.
Treads on thy sweeping train; one hand employ'd I saw far off the weedy fallows smile
In letting fall the curtain of repose

With verdure not unprofitable, graz'd
On bird and beast, the other charg'd for man By flocks, fast feeding, and selecting each
With sweet oblivion of the cares of day:

His fav'rite herb; while all the leafless groves, Not sumptuously adorn'd, not needing aid,

That skirt th' horizon, wore a sable hue, Like homely-featur'd Night, of clust'ring gems; Scarce notic'd in the kindred dusk of eve. A slar or two, just twinkling on thy, brow,

To-morrow brings a change, a total change! Suffices thee; save that the Moon is thine

Which even now, though silently perform d, No less than hers, not worn indeed on high And slowly, and by most unfelt, ihe face With ostentatious pageantry, but set

Of universal nature undergoes. With modest grandeur in thy purple zone,

Fast falls a fleecy show'r: the downy flakes
Resplendent less, but of an ampler round.

Descending, and with never-ceasing lapse,
Come then, and thou shalt find thy vot’ry calm, Softly alighting upon all below,
Or make me so. Composure is thy gift:

Assimilate all objects. Earth receives
And, whether I devote thy gentle hours

Gladly the thick'ning mantle; and the green To books, to music, or the poet's toil ;

And tender blade, that fear'd the chilling blast, To weaving nets for bird-alluring fruit;

Escapes unhurt beneath so warm a reil. Or twining silken threads round iv'ry reels,

In such a world, so thorny, and where none When they command whom man was born to Finds happiness unblighted, or, if found, please;

Without some thistly sorrow at its side ; I slight thee not, but make thee welcome still. It seems the part of wisdom, and no sin

Just when our drawing-rooms begin to blaze Against the law of love, to measure lots With lights, by clear reflection multiplied

With less distinguish'd than ourselves ; that thus From many a mirror, in which he of Gath, We may with patience bear our mod 'rate ills, Goliath, might have seen his giant bulk.

And sympathize with others sufforing more. Whole without stooping, tow'ring crest and all, Ill fares the trav'ller now, and he that stalks My pleasures, too, begin. But me perhaps In pond'rous boots beside his reeking team. The glowing hearth may satisfy awhile

The wain goes heavily, impeded sore With faint illumination, that uplifts

By congregated loads adhering close The shadows to the ceiling, there by fits

To the clogg'd wheels; and in its sluggish pace Dancing uncouthly to the quiv’ring flame. Noiseless appears a moving hill of snow. Not undelightful is an hour to me

The toiling steeds expand the nostril wide, So spent in parlor twilight: such a gloom

While ev'ry breath, by respiration strong
Suits well the thoughtful or unthinking mind,

Forc'd downward, is consolidated soon
The mind contemplative, with some new theme Upon their jutting chests. He, form’d to bear
Pregnant, or indispos'd alike to all.

The pelting brunt of the tempestuous night,
Laugh, ye who boast your more mercurial pow'rs, With half-shut eyes, and puckerd cheeks, and teeth
That never felt a stupor, know no pause,

Presented bare against the storm, plods on. Nor need one; I am conscious, and confess

One hand secures his hat, save when with both Fearless a soul, that does not always think. He brandishes his pliant length of whip, Me oft has Fancy ludicrous and wild

Resounding oft, and never heard in vain. Sooth'd with a waking dream of houses, tow'rs, O happy! and in my account denied Trees, churches, and strange visages, express'd That sensibility of pain, with which

Refinement is endu'd, thrice-happy thou!

But poverty with most, who whimper forth
Thy frame, robust and hardy, feels indeed Their long complaints, is self-inflicted woe;
The piercing cold, but feels it unimpair’d.

The effect of laziness or sottish waste.
The learned finger never need explore

Now goes the nightly thief prowling abroad
Thy vig'rous pulse ; and the unhealthful east, For plunder; much solicitous how best
That breathes the spleen, and searches ev'ry bone He may compensate for a day of sloth,
Of the infirm, is wholesome air to thee.

By works of darkness and noctural wrong.
Thy days roll on exempt from household care ; Woe to the gard'ner's pale, the farmer's hedge,
Thy wagon is thy wife; and the poor beasts, Plash'd neatly, and secur'd with driven slakes
That drag the dull companion to and fro,

Deep in the loamy bank. Uptorn by strength,
Thine helpless charge, dependent on thy care. Resistless in so bad a cause, but lame
Ah treat them kindly! rude as thou appear’st, To better deeds, he bundles up the spoil,
Yet show that thou hast mercy! which the great, An ass's burden, and, when laden most
With needless hurry whirl'd from place to place, And heaviest, light of foot steals fast away
Humane as they would seem, not always show. Nor does the boarded hovel better guard

Poor, yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat, The well-stack'd pile of riven logs and roots
Such claim compassion in a night like this, From his pernicious force. Nor will he leave
And have a friend in ev'ry feeling heart.

Unwrench'd the door, however well secur'd,
Warm’d, while it lasts, by labor, all day long Where Chanticleer amidst his harem sleeps
They brave the season, and yet find at eve, In unsuspecting pomp. "Twitch'd from the perch,
Ill clad, and fed but sparely, time to cool.

He gives the princely bird, with all his wives,
The frugal housewife trembles when she lights To his voracious bag, struggling in vain.
Her scanty stock of brushwood, blazing clear, And loudly wond’ring at the sudden change.
But dying soon, like all terrestrial joys.

Nor this to feed his own. "Twere some excuse,
The few small embers left she nurses well; Did pity of their suff'rings warp aside
And, while her infant race, with outspread hands His principle, and tempt him into sin
And crowded knees, sit cow'ring o'er the sparks, For their support, so destitute. But they
Retires, content to quake, so they be warm'd. Neglected pinc at home; themselves, as more
The man feels least, as more inur’d than she Expos'd than others, with less scruple made
To winter, and the current in his veins

His victims, robbid of their defenceless all.
More briskly mov'd by his severer toil ;

Cruel is all he does. 'Tis quenchless thirst
Yet he 100 finds his own distress in theirs.

of ruinous ebriety, than prompts
The taper soon extinguish'd, which I saw

His ev'ry action, and imbrutes the man.
Dangled along at the cold finger's-end

O for a law to noose the villain's neck,
Just when the day declin'd ; and the brown loaf Who starves his own; who persecutes the blood
Lodg'd on the shelf, half eaten without sauce He gave them in his children's veins, and hates
of sav'ry cheese, or butter, costlier still;

And wrongs the woman he has sworn to love!
Sleep seems their only refuge: for, alas!

Pass where we may, through city or through town,
Where penury is felt, the thought is chain'd, Village, or hamlet, of this merry land,
And sweet colloquial pleasures are but few! Though lean and beggar'd, ev'ry twentieth pace
With all this thrift they thrive not. All the care, Conducts th' unguarded nose to such a whiff
Ingenious Parsimony takes, but just

of stale debauch, forth-issuing from the styes
Saves the small inventory, bed, and stool,

That law has licens'd, as makes Temp’rance reel.
Skillet, and old carv'd chest, from public sale. There sit, involv'd and lost in curling clouds
They live, and live without extorted alms of Indian fume, and guzzling deep, the boor,
From grudging hands; but other boast have none, The lackey, and the groom : the craftsman there
To soothe their honest pride, that scorns to beg, Takes a Lethean leave of all his toil ;
Nor comfort else, but in their mutual love. Smith, cobbler, joiner, he that plies the shears,
I praise you much, ye meek and patient pair, And he that kneads the dough; all loud alike,
For ye are worthy; choosing rather far

All learned, and all drunk! The fiddle screams
A dry but independent crust, hard earn'd,

Plaintive and piteous, as it wept and wailid
And eaten with a sigh, than to endure

Its wasted tones and harmony unheard :
The rugged frowns and insolent rebuffs

Fierce the dispute, whate'er the theme; while she,
Of knaves in office, partial in the work

Fell Discord, arbitress of such debate,
Of distribution ; lib'ral of their aid

Perch'd on the sign-post, holds with even hand
To clam'rous Importunity in rags,

Her undecisive scales. In this she lays
But oft-times deaf to suppliants, who would blush A weight of ignorance; in that, of pride ;
To wear a tatter'd garb however coarse,

And smiles delighted with the eternal poise.
Whom famine cannot reconcile to filth:

Dire is the frequent curse, and its twin sound,
These ask with painful shyness, and, refus'd The cheek-distending oath, not to be prais’d
Because deserving, silently retire !

As ornamental, musical, polite,
But be ye of good courage! Time itself

Like those which modern senators employ,
Shall much befriend you. Time shall give increase ; Whose oath is rhet'ric, and who swear for fame!
And all your num'rous progeny, well-train'd Behold the schools, in which plebeian minds
But helpless, in few years shall find their hands, Once simple are initiated in arts,
And labor too. Meanwhile ye shall not want Which some may practise with politer grace,
What, conscious of your virtues, we can spare, But none with readier skill — "Tis here they learn
Nor what a wealthier than ourselves may send. The road, that leads from competence and peace
I mean the man, who, when the distant poor To indigence and rapine; till at last
Need help, denies them nothing but his name. Society, grown weary of the load,

Shakes her encumber'd lap, and casts them out. And the first larum of the cock's shrill throat
But censure profits little : vain th' attempt May prove a trumpet, suromoning your ear
To advertise in verse a public pest,

To horrid sounds of hostile feet within.
That, like the filth with which the peasant feeds Ev'n daylight has its dangers; and the walk
His hungry acres, stinks, and is of use.

Through pathless wastes and woods, unconscious once Th’ Excise is fattend with the rich result

of other tenants than melodious birds, Of all this riot; and ten thousand casks,

Or harmless flocks, is hazardous and bold. For ever dribbling out their base contents, Lamented change! to which full many a cause Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state,

Invet'rate, hopeless of a cure, conspires, Bleed gold for ministers to sport away.

The course of human things from good to ill, Drink, and be mad, then ; 'tis your country bids ! From ill to worse, is fatal, never fails. Gloriously drunk, obey th' important call ! Increase of pow'r begets increase of wealth; Her cause demands th' assistance of your throats ;

-Wealth, luxury; and luxury, excess ; Ye all can swallow, and she asks no more.

Excess, the scrofulous and itchy plague, Would I had fallin upon those happier days, That seizes first the opulent, descends That poets celebrate ; those golden times,

To the next rank contagious, and in time And those Arcadian scenes, that Maro sings, Taints downward all the graduated scale And Sidney, warbler of poetic prose.

Of order, from the chariot to the plow. Nymphs were Dianas then, and swains had hearts, The rich, and they that have an arm to check That felt their virtues : Innocence, it seems, The license of the lowest in degree, From courts dismiss'd, found shelter in the groves ; Desert their office; and themselves, intent The footsteps of Simplicity, impress'd

On pleasure, haunt the capital, and thus Upon the yielding herbage, (so they sing.)

To all the violence of lawless hands
Then were not all effac'd: then speech profane, Resign the scenes their presence might proiect.
And manners profligate, were rarely found,

Authority herself not seldom sleeps,
Observ'd as prodigies, and soon reclaim'd. Though resident, and witness of the wrong.
Vain wish! those days were never: airy dreams The plump convivial parson oflen bears
Sat for the picture : and the poet's hand,

The magisterial sword in vain, and lays
Imparting substance to an empty shade,

His rev'rence and his worship boih to rest Impos'd a gay delirium for a truth.

On the same cushion of habitual sloth. Grant it: I still must envy them an age,

Perhaps timidity restrains his arm; Thai favor’d such a dream; in days like these When he should strike he trembles, and sets free, Impossible, when Virtue is so scarce,

Himself enslav'd by terror of the band, That to suppose a scene where she presides, Th' audacious convict, whom he dares not bind. Is tramontane, and stumbles all belief.

Perhaps, though by profession ghostly pure, No: we are polish'd now. The rural lass, He too may have his vice, and sometimes prove Whom once her virgin modesty and grace, Less dainty than becomes his grave outside Her artless manners, and her neat attire,

In lucrative concerns. Examine well So dignified, that she was hardly less

His milk-white hand; the palm is hardly cleanThan the fair shepherdess of old romance,

But here and there an ugly smutch appear. Is seen no more. The character is lost !

Foh! 'twas a bribe that left it: he has touch'd Her head, adorn’d with lappets pinn'd aloft, Corruption. Whoso seeks an audit here And ribands streaming gay, superbly rais'd, Propitious, pays his tribuie, game or fish, And magnified beyond all human size,

Wild-fowl or ven'son; and his errand speeds. Indebted to some smart wig-weaver's hand

But faster far, and more than all the rest, For more than half the tresses it sustains ; A noble cause, which none, who bears a spark Her elbows ruffled, and her tott'ring form

of public virtue, ever wish'd remov'd, Ill-propp'd upon French heels ; she might be deem'd Works the deplor'd and mischievous effect. (But that the basket dangling on her arm

| 'Tis universal soldiership has stabb'd Interprets her more truly) of a rank

The heart of merit in the meaner class.
Too proud for dairy work, or sale of eggs. Arms, through the vanity and brainless rage
Expect her soon with footboy at her heels, of those that bear them, in whatever cause,
No longer blushing for her awkward load, Seem most at variance with all moral good,
Her train and her umbrella all her care!

And incompatible with serious thought.
The town has ting’d the country; and the stain The clown, the child of Nature, without guile,
Appears a spot upon a vestal's robe,

Blest with an infant's ignorance of all
The worse for what it soils. The fashion runs But his own simple pleasures; now and then
Down into scenes still rural; but, alas!

A wrestling-match, a foot-race, or a fair;
Scenes rarely grac'd with rural manners now! Is balloted, and trembles at the news:
Time was when in the pastoral retreat

Sheepish he doffs his hat, and mumbling swears Th' unguarded door was safe ; men did not watch A Bible-oath to be whate'er they please, T' invade another's right, or guard their own. To do he knows not what. The task perform'd, Then sleep was undisturb'd by fear, unscar'd That instant he becomes the sergeant's care, By drunken howling; and the chilling tale His pupil, and his torment, and his jest. Of midnight murder was a wonder heard

Ilis awkward gait, his introverted toes, With doubtful credit, told to frighten babes. Bent knees, round shoulders, and dejected looks, But farewell now to unsuspicious nights,

Procure him many a curse. By slow degrees, And slumbers unalarm’d! Now, ere you sleep, Unapt to learn, and form’d of stubborn stuff, See that your polish d arms be prim'd with care, He yet by slow degrees puts off himself, And drop the night-bolt ;-ruffians are abroad; Grows conscious of a change, and likes it well: