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Thus laden, dream that they are rich and great, In sighs he worships his supremely fair,
Wins in return an ansiver of disdain.
Rough elm, or smooth-grain'd ash, or glossy beech. A few forsake the throng; with lifted eyes In spiral rings ascends the trunk, and lays Ask wealth of Heav'n, and gain a real prize, Her golden tassels on the leafy sprays, Truth, wisdom, grace, and peace, like that above, But does a mischief while she lends a grace, Seal'd with his signet, whom they serve and love; Strait'ning its growth by such a strict embrace ; Scorn'd by the rest, with patient hope they wait So love, that clings around the noblest minds, A kind release from their imperfect state,
Forbids th' advancement of the soul he binds; And, unregretted, are soon snatch'd away
The suitor's air, indeed, he soon improves, From scenes of sorrow into glorious day.
And forms it to the taste of her he loves, Nor these alone prefer a life recluse,
Teaches his eyes a language, and no less Who seek retirement for its proper use;
Refines his speech, and fashions his address; The love of change, that lives in ev'ry breast, But farewell promises of happier fruits, Genius and temper, and desire of rest,
Manly designs, and learning's grave pursuits; Discordant motives in one centre meei,
Girt with a chain he cannot wish to break, And each inclines its vot’ry to retreat.
His only bliss is sorrow for her sake; Some minds by nature are averse to noise, Who will may pant for glory and excel, And hate the tumult half the world enjoys, Her smile his aim, all higher aims farewell! The lure of av'rice, or the pompous prize, Thyrsis, Alexis, or whatever name, 'That courts display before ambitious eyes; May least offend against so pure a flame, The fruits that hang on pleasure's flow'ry stem, Though sage advice of friends the most sincere Whate'er enchants them, are no snares to them Sounds harshly in so delicate an ear, To them the deep recess of dusky groves,
And lovers, of all creatures, tame or wild, Or forest, where the deer securely roves,
Can least brook management, however mild, The fall of waters, and the song of birds,
Yet let a poet (poetry disarms And hills that echo to the distant herds,
The fiercest animals with magic charms) Are luxuries excelling all the glare
Risk an intrusion on thy pensive mood,
Pastoral images and still retreats,
Sweet birds in concert with harmonious streams,
Are all enchanıments in a case like thine, The clouds that flit, or slowly float away, Conspire against thy peace with one design, Nature in all the various shapes she wears, Soothe thee to make thee but a surer prey, Frowning in storms, or breathing gentle airs, And feed the fire that wastes thy pow'rs away. The snowy robe her wintry state assumes,
Up—God has form'd thce with a wiser view, Hor summer heats, her fruits, and her perfumes, Not to be led in chains, but to subdue; All, all alike transport the glowing bard,
Calls thee to cope with enemies, and first Success in rhyme his glory and reward.
Points out a conflict with thyself, the worst.
Woman, indeed, a gift he would bestow
Deserves to be belov’d, but not ador'd.
Post away swiftly to more active scenes, Thy genuine charms, and guide an artless hand, Collect the scatter'd truths that study gleans, That I may catch a fire but rarely known,
Mix with the world, but with its wiser part, Give useful light, though I should miss renown No longer give an image all thine heart; And, poring on thy page, whose ev'ry line Its empire is not hers, nor is it thine, Bears proof of an intelligence divine,
"Tis God's just claim, prerogative divine. Muy feel a heart enrich'd by what it pays,
Virtuous and faithful Heberden, whose skill That builds its glory on its Maker's praise. Attempts no task it cannot well fulfil, Woe to the man, whose wit disclaims its use, Gives melancholy up to Nature's care, Glitt'ring in vain, or only to seduce,
And sends the patient into purer air. Who studies Nature with a wanton eye,
Look where he comes in this embower'd alcove Admires the work, but slips the lesson by;
Stand close conceal'd, and see a statue move : His hours of leisure and recess employs
Lips busy, and eyes fix'd, foot falling slow, In drawing pictures of forbidden joys,
Arms hanging idly down, hands clasp'd below, Retires to blazon his own worthless name,
Interpret to the marking eye distress, Or shoot the careless with a surer aim.
Such as its symptoms can alone express. The lover, too, shuns business and alarms, That tongue is silent now; that silent tongue Tender idolater of absent charms.
Could argue once, could jest or join the song, Saints offer nothing in their warmest pray’rs, Could give advice, could censure or commend, That he devotes not with a zeal like theirs; Or charm the sorrows of a drooping friend "Tis consecration of his heart, soul, time,
Renounc'd alike its office and its sport And ev'ry thought that wanders is a crime. Its brisker and its graver strains fall short; 93
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Both fail beneath a fever's secret sway,
Ye groves, (the statesman at his desk exclaims And like a summer-brook are past away.
Sick of a thousand disappointed aims.)
My patrimonial treasure and my pride,
Receive me langnishing for that repose,
Ye saw me once (ah those regretted days,
But vers'd in arts, that, while they seem to stay
To the fair haven of my native home,
The wreck of what I was, fatigued I come;
For once I can approve the patriot's voice,
His wish and mine both prompt me to retire.
The disencumber Atlas of the state.
First shakes the gliui'ring drops from ev'ry thorn,
Sits linking cherry-stones, or platting rush,
To draw th' incautious minnow from the brook,
Are life's prime pleasures in his simple view, Nor view of waters turning busy mills,
His flock the chief concern he ever knew; Parks in which Art preceptress Nature weds, She shines but little in his heedless eyes, Nor gardens interspers'd with flow'ry beds, The good we never miss we rarely prize : Nor gales, that catch the scent of blooming groves, But ask the noble drudge in state affairs, And waft it to the mourner as he roves,
Escap'd from office and its constant cures, Can call up life into his faded eye,
What charms he sees in Freedom's smile express d,
In Freedom lost so long, now repossess'd ;
mands, And thou, sad suff'rer under nameless ill,
Rever'd at home, and felt in foreign lands,
Or plead its silence as its best applause.
With woodbine and wild roses mantled o'er,
spreads All bliss beside a shadow or a sound :
Its cooling vapor o'er the dewy meads,
That melt and fade into the distant sky,
Beauties he lately slighted as he pass'd, Borrowing a beauty from the works of grace, Seem all created since he travel'd last. Shall be despis'd and overlook'd no more,
Master of all th' enjoyments he design d,
What early philosophic hours he keeps,
While morning kindles with a windy red,
Begins a long look-out for distant land,
And ignorance of better things makes man,
Th'unpitied victim of ill.judg'd expense,
And all, impatient of dry land, agree May run in ciiies with a brisker force,
With one consent to rush into the sea.But nowhere with a current so serene,
Ocean exhibits, fathomless and broad, Or hall so clear, as in the rural scene.
Much of the pow'r and majesty of God. Yet how fallacious is all earthly bliss,
He swathes about the swelling of the deep, What obvious truths the wisest heads
may miss! That shines and rests, as infants smile and sleep; Some pleasures live a month, and some a year, Vast as it is, it answers as it flows But short the date of all we gather here ;
The breathing of the lightest air that blows; No happiness is felt except the true,
Curling and whit’ning orer all the waste,
Abrupt and horrid as the tempest roars,
Till he, that rides the whirlwind, checks the rein,
Nereids or Dryads, as the fashion leads, Seems at the best but dreaming lise away; Now in the foods, now panting in the meads, The prospect, such as might enchant despair, Vot'ries of Pleasure still, where'er she dwells, He view's it not, or sees no beauty there;
Near barren rocks, in palaces, or cells, With aching heart, and discontented looks, O grant a poet leave to recommend Returns at noon to billiards or to books,
(A poet fond of Nature, and your friend) But feels, while grasping at his faded joys, Her slighted works to your admiring view; A secret thirst of his renounc'd employs.
Her works must needs excel, who fashion d you. He chides the tardiness of ev'ry post,
Would ye, when rambling in your morning ride, Pants to be told of battles won or lost,
With some unmeaning coxcomb at your side, Blames his own indolence, observes, though late, Condemn the pratiler for his idle pains, "Tis criminal to leave a sinking state,
To waste unheard the music of his strains, Flies to the levée, and, receiv'd with grace, And, deaf to all th' impertinence of tongue, Kneels, kisses hands, and shines again in place. That, while it courts, affronts and does you wrong? Suburban villas, highway-side retreats,
Mark well the finish'd plan without a fault, That dread the encroachment of our growing streets, The seas globose and huge, ih' o'er-arching vault, Tight boxes, neatly sash'd, and in a blaze
Earth’s millions daily fed, a world employ'd With all a July sun's collected rays,
In gath'ring plenty yet to be enjoy'd, Delight the citizen, who, gasping there,
Till gratitude grew vocal in the praise Breathes clouds of dust, and calls it country air.
or God, beneficent in all his ways; O sweet retirement, who would balk the thought, Grac'd with such wisdom, how would beauty shine! That could afford retirement, or could not ? Ye want but that to seem indeed divine. 'Tis such an easy walk, so smooth and straight, Anticipated rents, and bills unpaid, The second mile-stone fronts the garden-gate; Force many a shining youth into the shade, A step if fair, and, if a show'r approach,
Not to redeem his time, but his estate,
Sighs o'er the beauties of the charming scene
Nature indeed looks prettily in rhyme; From ev'ry window, and the fields are green; Streams tinkle sweetly in poetic chime: Ducks paddle in the pond before the door,
The warblings of the blackbird, clear and strong, And what could a remoter scene show more ? Are musical enough in Thomson's song ; A sense of elegance we rarely find
And Cobhain's groves, and Windsor's green retreats. The portion of a mean or vulgar mind.
When l'ope describes them, have a thousand sweels
He likes the country, but in truth must own, Nor yet the swarms, that occupy the brain,
Where dreams of dress, intrigue, and pleasure Poor Jack-no matter who—for when I blame,
reign; I pity, and must therefore sink the name,
Nor such as useless conversation breeds, Liv'd in his saddle, lov'd the chase, the course, Or lust engenders, and indulgence feeds. And always, ere he mounted, kiss'd his horse. Whence, and what are we? to what end ordain'd 1 The estate, bis sires had own'd in ancient years, What means the drama by the world sustain'd? Was quickly distanc'd, match'd against a peer's. Business or vain amusemeni, care or mirth, Jack vanish'd, was regrelled and forgot;
Divide the frail inhabitants of Earth. "Tis wild good-nature's never-failing lot.
Is duty a mere sport, or an employ? At length, when all had long suppos'd him dead, Life an intrusted talent, or a toy? By cold submersion, razor, rope, or lead,
Is there, as reason, conscience, Scripture, say, My lord, alighting at his usual place,
Cause to provide for a great future day, The Crown, took notice of an ostler's face,
When, Earth's assign'd duration at an end, Jack knew his friend, but hop'd in that disguise Man shall be summon'd, and the dead attend? He might escape the most observing eyes,
The trumpet--will it sound ? the curtain rise ? And whistling, as if unconcern’d and gay,
And show th' august tribunal of the skies, Curried his nag, and look'd another way.
Where no prevarication shall avail, Convinc'd at last, upon a nearer view,
Where eloquence and artifice shall fail, "T'was he, the same, the very Jack he knew, The pride of arrogant distinctions fall, ('erwhelm’d at once with wonder, grief, and joy, And conscience and our conduct judge us all ? He press'd him much to quit his base emplogo; Pardon me, ye that give the midnight oil His countenance, his purse, his heart, his hand, To learned cares or philosophie toil, Influence and pow'r, were all at his command : Though I revere your honorable names, Peers are not always gen'rous as well-bred, Your useful labors and important aims, But Granby was, meant truly what he said. And hold the world indebted to your aid, Jack bow'd, and was oblig'd—confess'd 'twas Enrich'd with the discov'ries ye have made, strange,
Yet let me stand excus'd, if I esteem
Thus some retire to nourish hopeless woe; And, afier poising her advent'rous wings,
Far more intelligent and better taught
The strenuous use of profitable thought, Some sway'd by fashion, some by deep disgust; Than ye, when happiest and enlighten'd most, Some self-impov'rish’d, and because they must; And highest in renown, can justly boast. But few, that court Retirement, are aware
A mind unnerv'd, or indispos'd to bear Of half the toils they must encounter there. The weight of subjects worthiest of her care, Lucrative offices are seldom lost
Whatever hopes a change of scene inspires, For want of pow'rs proportion'd to the post : Must change her nature, or in vain retires. Give ev'n a dunce th' employment he desires, An idler is a watch, that wants both hands; And he soon finds the talents it requires ;
As useless if it goes, as when it stands. A business with an income at its heels
Books therefore, not the scandal of the shelves, Furnishes always oil for its own wheels.
In which lewd sensualists print out themselves; But in his arduous enterprise to close
Nor those, in which the stage gives vice a blow, His active years with indolent repose,
With what success let modern manners show; He finds the labors of that state exceed
Nor his, who, for the bane of thousands born, His utmost faculties, severe indeed.
Built God a church, and laugh'd his word to scorn "Tis easy to resign a toilsome place,
Skilful alike to seem devout and just, But not to manage leisure with a grace;
And stabı religion with a sly side-thrust ; Absence of occupation is not rest,
Nor those of learn'd philologists, who chase
A panting syllable through time and space,
But such as learning without false prelence,
The friend of truth, th' associate of sound sense, There feels a pleasure perfect in its kind,
And such as in the zeal of good design, Ranges at liberty, and snuffs the wind :
Strong judgment lab'ring in the Scripture mine,
Worthy to live, and of eternal use :
Amusement and true knowledge hand in hand.
And, while she polishes, perverts the taste; But reveries (for human minds will act)
Habits of close attention, thinking heads, Specious in show, impossible in fact,
Become more rare as dissipation spreads, Those flimsy webs, that break as soon as wrought, Till authors hear at length one gen’ral cry, Attain not to the dignity of thought:
Tickle and entertain us, or we die.
The loud demand, from year to year the same, His soul exults, hope animates his lays,
And wilds, familiar with a lion's roar,
Ring with ecstatic sounds unheard before :
The foes of man, or make a desert sweet.
Religion does not censure or exclude
Unnumber'd pleasures harmlessly pursued ;
The grain, or herb, or plant, that each demands
And share the joys your bounty may create ;
In color these, and those delight the smell,
Or lay the landscape on the snowy sheet-
That leave no stain upon the wing of Time.
Me poetry (or rather notes that aim
Employs, shut out from more important views,
Fast by the banks of the slow-winding Ouse ;
Content thus sequesterd I may raise
The history of the following production is briefly
this : A lady, fond of blank verse, demanded a Its happiest seasons, and a peaceful closc,
poem of that kind from the author, and gave him Scorn'd in a world, indebted to that scorn
the Sofa for a subject. He obeyed ; and, having
much leisure, connected another subject with it: For evils daily felt and hardly borne, Not knowing thee, we reap with bleeding hands
and, pursuing the train of thought to which his Flow'rs of rank odor upon thorny lands,
situation and turn of mind led him, brought forth
at length, instead of the trifle which he at first And, while experience cautions us in vain,
intended, a serious affair-a volume.
In the poem on the subject of Education, he would
be very sorry to stand suspected of having aimed Murmuring and ungrateful Discontent,
his censure at any particular school. His obThat scorns amictions mercifully meant,
jections are such as naturally apply themselves Those humors tart as wines upon the fret,
to schools in general. If there were not, as for Which idleness and weariness beget;
the most part there is, willul neglect in those These, and a thousand plagues, that haunt the breasi,
who manage them, and an omission even of Fond of the phantom of an earthly rest,
such discipline as they are susceptible of, the Divine communion chases, as the day
objects are yet too numerous for minute atten. Drives to their dens th' obedient beasts of prey.
tion; and the aching hearts of ten thousand See Judah's promis'd king berest of all,
parents, mourning under the bitterest of all disDriv'n out an exile from the face of Saul,
appointments, attest the truth of the allegation To distant caves the lonely wand'rer flies,
His quarrel, therefore, is with the mischief at To seek that peace a tyrant's frown denies.
large, and not with any particular instance of it.
Sofa. 4. schocl-boy's ramble. A walk in the * Bruyere.
country. The scene described. Rural sommax