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Our children's children shall our steps pursue,
And the fame errors be for ever new!
Meanwhile, in hope a guiltless country fwain,
My reed with warblings chears th' imagin'd plain.
Hail, humble fhades, where truth and filence dwell!
Thou, noify town, and faithlefs court, farewel!
Farewel ambition, once my darling flame!
The thirst of lucre, and the charm of fame!
In life's bye-road, that winds thro' paths unknown,
My days, tho' number'd, shall be all my own!
Here fhall they end (O might they twice begin!)
And all be white the fates intend to spin.
Vos fapere et folos aio bene vivere, quorum,
Confpicitur nitidis fundata pecunia villis.
HE wealthy cit, grown old in trade,
Now wishes for the rural fhade,
And buckles to his one-horfe chair
Old Dobbin, or the founder'd mare ;
While wedg'd in closely by his fide,
Sits Madam, his unwieldy bride,
With Jacky on a stool before 'em,
And out they jog in due decorum.
Scarce paft the turnpike half a mile,
How all the country seems to smile!'
And as they flowly jog together,
The cit commends the road and weather;
While Madam doats upon the trees,
And longs for ev'ry houfe fhe fees,
Admires it's views, it's fituation,
And thus fhe opens her oration.
• What fignifies the loads of wealth,
• Without that richest jewel, health?
• Excufe the fondness of a wife,
• Who doats upon your precious life!
• Such eafelefs toil, fuch constant care,
• Is more than human strength can bear a
• One may observe it in your face
Indeed, my dear, you break apace;
And nothing can your health repair,
• Bnt exercife, and country air.
• Sir Traffick has a house, you know,
< About a mile from Cheney Row:
• He's a good man, indeed, 'tis true,
• But not fo warm, my dear, as you;
• And folks are always apt to fneer-
• One would not be out-done, my dear !*
Sir Traffick's name fo well apply'd,
Awak'd his brother merchant's pride;
And Thrifty, who had all his life
Paid utmost deference to his wife,
Confefs'd her arguments had reason ;
And by th' approaching summer season,
Draws a few hundreds from the stocks,
And purchases his Country-box.
Some three or four miles out of town, (An hour's ride will bring you down) He fixes on his choice abode,
Not half a furlong from the road;
And fo convenient does it lay,
The ftages pafs it ev'ry day:
And then fo fnug, fo mighty pretty,
To have a house so near the city!
Take but your places at the Boar,
You're fet down at the very door.
Well then, fuppofe them fix'd at last,
White-washing, painting, fcrubbing past;
Hugging themselves in eafe and clover,
With all the fufs of moving over ;
Lo, a new heap of whims are bred,
And wanton in my lady's head!
Well; to be fure, it must be own'd,
It is a charming fpot of ground :
So fweet a diftance for a ride, --
And all about fo countrify'd!
< 'Twould come to but a trifling price
To make it quite a paradife !
I cannot bear those nafty rails,
Those ugly, broken, mouldy pales:
Suppofe, my dear, instead of thefe,
We build a railing all Chinese ;
Altho' one hates to be expos'd,
'Tis difmal to be thus enclos'd:
• One hardly any object fees-
I wish you'd fell thofe odious trees.
Objects continual paffing by,
Were fomething to amufe the eye;
But to be pent within the walls,
One might as well be at St. Paul's.
Our houfe, beholders would adore,
Was there a level lawn before,
Nothing it's views to incommode,
But quite laid open to the road;
• While ev'ry trav❜ller in amaze,
Should on our little manfion gaze;
And pointing to the choice retreat,
Cry," That's Sir Thrifty's country-feat!"
No doubt her arguments prevail,
For Madam's TASTE can never fail.
Blefs'd age! when all men may procure
The title of a connoiffeur ;
When noble and ignoble herd
Are govern'd by a fingle word;
Tho', like the royal German dames,
It bears an hundred Chriftian names-
As Genius, Fancy, Judgment, Goût,
Whim, Caprice, Je ne fçai quoi, Virtù :
Which appellations all defcribe
TASTE, and the modern tafteful tribe.
Now bricklay'rs, carpenters, and joiners,
With Chinese artifts and defigners,
Produce their schemes of alteration,
To work this wond'rous reformation,
The ufeful dome, which fecret stood,
Embofom'd in the yew-tree's wood,
The trav❜ller with amazement fees
A temple Gothick or Chinese,
With many a bell and tawdry rag on,
And crefted with a sprawling dragon;
A wooden arch is bent aftride
A ditch of water, four feet wide,
With angles, curves, and zigzag lines,
From Halfpenny's exact defigns:
In front, a level lawn is feen,
Without a fhrub upon the green;
Where Taste would want it's first great law,
But for the fkulking, fly ha-ha;
By whofe miraculous affistance
You gain a prospect two fields distance.
And now from Hyde-Park-Corner come
The gods of Athens and of Rome.
Here squabby Cupids take their places,
With Venus, and the clumfy Graces;
Apollo there, with aim fo clever,
Stretches his leaden bow for ever;
And there, without the pow'r to fly,
Stande fix'd a tip-toe Mercury.
The villa thus compleatly grac'd;
All own, that Thrifty has a tafte;
And Madam's female friends and coufins,
With common-council-men, by dozens,
Flock ev'ry Sunday to the feat,
To ftare about them, and to eat.
THE HOUSE OF SUPERSTITION.
WHEN-Sleep's all-foothing hand, with fetters soft,
Ties down each fenfe, and lulls to balmy reft,
Th' internal pow'r, creative Fancy, oft
Broods o'er her treasures in the formful breast.
Thus, when no longer daily cares engage,
The bufy mind purfues the darling theme;
Hence angels whifper'd to the flumb'ring fage,
And gods of old infpir'd the hero's dream :
Hence, as I flept, these images arose
To Fancy's eye; and join'd, this fairy fcene compofe.
As, when fair morning dries her pearly tears,
The mountain lifts o'er mifts it's lofty head;
Thus, new to fight, a Gothick dome appears
With the grey ruft of rolling years o'erspread..
Here Superftition holds her dreary reign,
And her lip-labour'd orisons she plies
In tongue unknown, when morn bedews the plain,
Or ev❜ning skirts with gold the western skies;
To the dumb ftock fhe bends, or sculptur'd wall,
And many a cross she makes, and many a bead lets fall.