A vagabond and useless tribe there eat
Their miserable meal. A kettle, slung
Between two poles upon a stick transverse,
Receives the morsel-flesh obscene of dog,
Or vermin, or at best of cock purloined
From his accustomed perch. Hard faring race!
They pick their fuel out of every hedge, [quenched
Which, kindled with dry leaves, just saves un-
The spark of life. The sportive wind blows wide
Their fluttering rags, and shows a tawny skin,
The vellum of the pedigree they claim.

GYPSY ARTS; SLOTH AND JOLLITY.

Great skill have they in palmistry, and more To conjure clean away the gold they touch, Conveying worthless dross into its place; Loud when they beg, dumb only when they steal. Strange that a creature rational, and cast In human mould, should brutalize by choice His nature; and, though capable of arts, By which the world might profit, and himself, Self-banished from society, prefer Such squalid sloth to honorable toil! Yet even these, though feigning sickness oft They swathe the forehead, drag the limping limb, And vex their flesh with artificial sores, Can change their whine into a mirthful note, When safe occasion offers; and with dance, And music of the bladder and the bag, Beguile their woes, and make the woods resound. Such health and gayety of heart enjoy The houseless rovers of the sylvan world; And, breathing wholesome air, and wandering much, Need other physic none to heal th' effects Of loathsome diet, penury, and cold.

ADVANTAGES OF CIVILIZATION OVER BARBARISM. — THE INDIANS, PATAGONIANS. ISLANDERS.

[learn,

Blest he, though undistinguished from the crowd By wealth or dignity, who dwells secure, Where man, by nature fierce, has laid aside His fierceness; having learned, though slow to The manners and the arts of civil life. His wants indeed are many; but supply Is obvious, placed within the easy reach Of temperate wishes and industrious hands. Here virtue thrives as in her proper soil; Not rude and surly, and beset with thorns, And terrible to sight, as when she springs (If e'er she spring spontaneous), in remote And barbarous climes, where violence prevails, And strength is lord of all; but gentle, kind, By culture tamed, by liberty refreshed, And all her fruits by radiant truth matured. War and the chase engross the savage whole; War followed for revenge, or to supplant The envied tenants of some happier spot: The chase for sustenance, precarious trust! His hard condition with severe constraint Binds all his faculties, forbids all growth Of wisdom, proves a school, in which he learns

Sly circumvention, unrelenting hate,
Mean self-attachment, and scarce aught beside.
Thus fare the shivering natives of the north,
And thus the rangers of the western world,
Where it advances far into the deep,
Towards th' Antarctic. Even the favored isles
So lately found, although the constant sun
Cheer all their seasons with a grateful smile,
Can boast but little virtue; and inert
Through plenty, lose in morals what they gain
In manners- victims of luxurious ease.
These therefore I can pity, placed remote
From all that science traces, art invents,
Or inspiration teaches; and enclosed
In boundless oceans, never to be passed
By navigators uninformed as they,
Or ploughed perhaps by British bark again.

OMAI, THE ISLANDER.

1

But far beyond the rest, and with most cause,
Thee, gentle savage, whom no love of thee
Or thine, but curiosity perhaps,

Or else vain glory, prompted us to draw
Forth from thy native bowers, to show thee here
With what superior skill we can abuse

The gifts of Providence, and squander life.
The dream is past, and thou hast found again
Thy cocoas and bananas, palms and yams, [found
And homestall thatched with leaves. But hast thou
Their former charms? And having seen our state,
Our palaces, our ladies, and our pomp
Of equipage, our gardens, and our sports,
And heard our music; are thy simple friends,
Thy simple fare, and all thy plain delights,
As dear to thee as once? And have thy joys
Lost nothing by comparison with ours?
Rude as thou art- for we returned thee rude
And ignorant, except of outward show,-
I cannot think thee yet so dull of heart
And spiritless, as never to regret
Sweets tasted here, and left as soon as known.
Methinks I see thee straying on the beach,
And asking of the surge that bathes thy foot
If ever it has washed our distant shore.

HOMESICK LONGINGS OF THE ISLANDER. TRADE AND PHI

LANTHROPY.

I see thee weep, and thine are honest tears, A patriot's for his country; thou art sad At thought of her forlorn and abject state, From which no power of thine can raise her up. Thus fancy paints thee, and though apt to err, Perhaps errs little when she paints thee thus. She tells me, too, that duly every morn Thou climbest the mountain top, with eager eye Exploring far and wide the watery waste, For sight of ship from England. Every speck Seen in the dim horizon turns thee pale With conflict of contending hopes and fears.

1 Omai.

But comes at last the dull and dusky eve,
And sends thee to thy cabin, well prepared
To dream all night of what the day denied.
Alas! expect it not. We found no bait

To tempt us in thy country. Doing good,
Disinterested good, is not our trade.

We travel far, 't is true, but not for naught;
And must be bribed to compass earth again
By other hopes and richer fruits than yours.

CITIES. THEIR DISADVANTAGES AS TO VIRTUE. — LUXURY ;

VICE.

But though true worth and virtue in the mild
And genial soil of cultivated life

Thrive most, and may perhaps thrive only there,
Yet not in cities oft: in proud and gay,
And gain-devoted cities. Thither flow,
As to a common and most noisome sewer,
The dregs and feculence of every land.
In cities foul example on most minds
Begets its likeness. Rank abundance breeds,
In gross and pampered cities, sloth, and lust,
And wantonness, and gluttonous excess;
In cities vice is hidden with most ease,

Or seen with least reproach; and virtue, taught
By frequent lapse, can hope no triumph there
Beyond th' achievement of successful flight.

LONDON ITS VICES - YET A NURSE OF THE ARTS.PAINTING; SCULPTURE; ENGRAVING.

I do confess them nurseries of the arts,
In which they flourish most; where, in the beams
Of warm encouragement, and in the eye
Of public note, they reach their perfect size.
Such London is, by taste and wealth proclaimed
The fairest capital of all the world,
By riot and incontinence the worst.
There, touched by Reynolds, a dull blank becomes
A lucid mirror, in which nature sees
All her reflected features. Bacon there
Gives more than female beauty to a stone,
And Chatham's eloquence to marble lips.
Nor does the chisel occupy alone

The powers of sculpture, but the style as much;
Each province of her art her equal care.
With nice incision of her guided steel
She ploughs a brazen field, and clothes a soil
So sterile with what charms soe'er she wills,
The richest scenery and the loveliest forms.

LONDON THE HOME OF SCIENCE, COMMERCE, WEALTH.
Where finds philosophy her eagle eye,
With which she gazes at yon burning disk
Undazzled, and detects and counts his spots?
In London. Where her implements exact,
With which she calculates, computes, and scans,
All distance, motion, magnitude, and now
Measures an atom, and now girds a world?
In London. Where has commerce such a mart,
So rich, so thronged, so drained, and so supplied,
As London - opulent, enlarged, and still

Increasing London? Babylon of old
Not more the glory of the earth than she,
A more accomplished world's chief glory now.

LONDON. CERTAIN REFORMS RECOMMENDED TO HER. PRE-
VENTION BETTER THAN REVENGE. SEVERITY TO LITTLE
AND LENITY TO GREAT KNAVES.SABBATH PROFANATION.

She has her praise. Now mark a spot or two,
That so much beauty would do well to purge;
And show this queen of cities, that so fair
May yet be foul; so witty, yet not wise.
It is not seemly, nor of good report,
That she is slack in discipline; more prompt
Tavenge than to prevent the breach of law :
That she is rigid in denouncing death

On petty robbers, and indulges life
And liberty, and ofttimes honor too,
To peculators of the public gold;

That thieves at home must hang; but he that puts
Into his overgorged and bloated purse
The wealth of Indian provinces escapes.
Nor is it well, nor can it come to good,
That, through profane and infidel contempt
Of Holy Writ, she has presumed t' annul
And abrogate, as roundly as she may,
The total ordinance and will of God;
Advancing fashion to the post of truth,
And cent'ring all authority in modes
And customs of her own, till Sabbath rites
Have dwindled into unrespected forms,

And knees and hassocks are well-nigh divorced.

GOD MADE THE COUNTRY, MAN THE TOWN. RURAL LIFE PROMISES MOST HEALTH AND VIRTUE, IDLENESS. - SIMPLE DESIRES AND JOYS OF THE COUNTRY. FOREBODINGS.

God made the country, and man made the town. What wonder, then, that health and virtue, gifts That can alone make sweet the bitter draught That life holds out to all, should most abound And least be threatened in the fields and groves? Possess ye, therefore, ye who, borne about In chariots and sedans, know no fatigue But that of idleness, and taste no scenes But such as art contrives, possess ye still Your element; there only can ye shine; There only minds like yours can do no harm. Our groves were planted to console at noon The pensive wanderer in their shades. At eve The moonbeam, sliding softly in between The sleeping leaves, is all the light they wish, Birds warbling all the music. We can spare The splendor of your lamps: they but eclipse Our softer satellite. Your songs confound Our more harmonious notes: the thrush departs Scared, and th' offended nightingale is mute. There is a public mischief in your mirth; It plagues your country. Folly such as yours, Graced with a sword, and worthier of a fan, Has made, what enemies could ne'er have done, Our arch of empire, steadfast but for you, A mutilated structure, soon to fall.

Th' admiring goatherd then his judgment spake : Sweet is thy mouth, and sweetest tones awake From thy lips, Daphnis! I would rather hear Thee sing than suck the honey-comb, I swear. Take thou the pipe, for thine the winning song. If thou wilt teach me here, my goats among, Some song, I will that hornless goat bestow, That ever fills the pail to overflow.'

Glad Daphnis clapped his hands, and on the lawn He leaped, as round her mother leaps the fawn. But sad Menalcas fed a smouldering gloom, As grieves a girl betrothed to unknown groom. And first in song was Daphnis from that time, And wived a Naiad in his blooming prime.

PARNELL'S "HEALTH."

AN ECLOGUE.

Now early shepherds o'er the meadow pass, And print long footsteps in the glittering grass; The cows neglectful of their pasture stand, By turns obsequious to the milker's hand. When Damon softly trod the shaven lawn; Damon, a youth from city cares withdrawn ; Long was the pleasing walk he wandered through, A covered arbor closed the distant view; [throng There rests the youth, and, while the feathered Raise their wild music, thus contrives a song. Here, wafted o'er by mild etesian air, Thou country goddess, beauteous health! repair, Here let my breast through quivering trees inhale Thy rosy blessings with the morning gale. What are the fields, or flowers, or all I see? Ah! tasteless all, if not enjoyed with thee. Joy to my soul! I feel the goddess nigh, The face of nature cheers as well as I ; O'er the flat green refreshing breezes run,

The smiling daisies blow beneath the sun,
The brooks run purling down with silver waves,
The planted lanes rejoice with dancing leaves;
The chirping birds from all the compass rove
To tempt the tuneful echoes of the grove :
High sunny summits, deeply-shaded dales,
Thick mossy banks, and flowery winding vales,
With various prospect gratify the sight,
And scatter fixed attention in delight.

Come, country goddess, come, nor thou suffice,
But bring thy mountain-sister, Exercise.
Called by thy lovely voice, she turns her pace,
Her winding horn proclaims the finished chase;
She mounts the rocks, she skims the level plain,
Dogs, hawks, and horses, crowd her early train ;
Her hardy face repels the tanning wind,
And lines and meshes loosely float behind.
All these as means of toil the feeble see,
But these are helps to pleasure joined with thee.
Let sloth lie softening till high noon in down,
Or lolling fan her in the sultry town,
Unnerved with rest; and turn her own disease,
Or foster others in luxurious case:

I mount the courser, call the deep-mouthed hounds,
The fox unkennelled flies to covert grounds;

I lead where stags through tangled thickets tread,
And shake the saplings with their branching head;
I make the falcons wing their airy way,
And soar to seize, or stooping strike their prey;
To snare the fish, I fix the lurking bait ;
To wound the fowl, I load the gun with fate.
"T is thus through change of exercise I range,
And strength and pleasure rise from every change.
Here, beauteous Health! for all the year remain ;
When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus again.
O, come, thou Goddess of my rural song!
And bring thy daughter, calm Content, along ;
Dame of the ruddy cheek and laughing eye,
From whose bright presence clouds of sorrow fly:
For her I mow my walks, I plat my bowers,
Clip my low hedges, and support my flowers;
To welcome her, this summer-seat I drest,
And here I court her when she comes to rest ;
When she from exercise to learnéd ease
Shall change again, and teach the change to please.
Now friends conversing my soft hours refine,
And Tully's Tusculum revives in mine :
Now to grave books I bid the mind retreat,
And such as make me rather good than great;
Or, o'er the works of easy fancy rove,
Where flutes and innocence amuse the grove :
The native bard, that on Sicilian plains
First sung the lowly manners of the swains;
Or, Maro's muse, that in the fairest light
Paints rural prospects and the charms of sight;
These soft amusements bring content along,
And fancy, void of sorrow, turns to song.
Here, beauteous Health! for all the year remain ;
When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus again.

BOOK I.

ARGUMENT.

The subject proposed. Remarks upon pastoral poetry. A tract of country near the coast described. An impoverished borough. Smugglers and their assistants. Rude manners of the inhabitants. Ruinous effects of a high tide. The village life more generally considered; evils of it. The youthful laborer. The old man; his soliloquy. The parish workhouse. Its inhabitants. The sick poor. Their apothecary. The dying pauper. The village priest.

THE SUBJECT STATED; POVERTY AS IT IS. THE village life, and every care that reigns O'er youthful peasants and declining swains; What labor yields, and what, that labor past, Age, in its hour of languor, finds at last; What form the real picture of the poor, Demand a song- the Muse can give no more.

MODERN PASTORALS RIDICULED. — VIRGIL'S ECLOGUES.— PIPES, PLOUGHS, POETRY.

Fled are those times, when, in harmonious strains, The rustic poet praised his native plains; No shepherds now, in smooth alternate verse, Their country's beauty or their nymphs' rehearse; Yet still for these we frame the tender strain, Still in our lays fond Corydons complain, And shepherds' boys their amorous pains reveal, The only pains, alas! they never feel.

On Mincio's banks, in Cæsar's bounteous reign, If Tityrus found the golden age again,

Must sleepy bards the flattering dream prolong,
Mechanic echoes of the Mantuan song?
From truth and nature shall we widely stray,
Where Virgil, not where fancy, leads the way?
Yes, thus the Muses sing of happy swains,
Because the Muses never knew their pains:
They boast their peasants' pipes, but peasants now
Resign their pipes, and plod behind the plough ;
And few amid the rural tribe have time
To number syllables and play with rhyme;
Save honest Duck, what son of verse could share
The poet's rapture and the peasant's care?
Or the great labors of the field degrade,
With the new peril of a poorer trade?

From this chief cause these idle praises spring,
That themes so easy few forbear to sing;
For no deep thought the trifling subjects ask,
To sing of shepherds is an easy task;
The happy youth assumes the common strain,
A nymph his mistress and himself a swain;
With no sad scenes he clouds his tuneful prayer,
But all, to look like her, is painted fair.

TRUE SYMPATHY WITH THE LABORER. — RHYME AND REASON OF POVERTY.

I grant indeed that fields and flocks have charms, For him that gazes or for him that farms; But when amid such pleasing scenes I trace The poor, laborious natives of the place, And see the midday sun, with fervid ray, On their bare heads and dewy temples play; While some, with feebler hands and fainter hearts, Deplore their fortune, yet sustain their parts, — Then shall I dare these real ills to hide, In tinsel trappings of poetic pride?

No; cast by fortune on a frowning coast, Which neither groves nor happy valleys boast; Where other cares than those the muse relates, And other shepherds dwell with other mates; By such examples taught, I paint the cot, As truth will paint it, and as bards will not: Nor you, ye poor, of lettered scorn complain, То you the smoothest song is smooth in vain ; O'ercome by labor and bowed down by time, Feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme? Can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread, By winding myrtles round your ruined shed? Can their light tales your weighty griefs o'erpower, Or glad with airy mirth the toilsome hour?

HOMELY PICTURE OF A STERILE TRACT OF COUNTRY. — THE HEATH. SAND, WEEDS, THISTLES, POPPY, BUGLOSS, MALLOW, CHARLOCK, TARES. SIMILE OF THE GARISH PROSTITUTE.

Lo! where the heath, with withering brake grown o'er, [poor; Lends the light turf that warms the neighboring From thence a length of burning sand appears, Where the thin harvest waves its withered ears; Rank weeds, that every art and care defy, Reign o'er the land, and rob the blighted rye : There thistles stretch their prickly arms afar, And to the ragged infant threaten war; There poppies, nodding, mock the hope of toil, There the blue bugloss paints the sterile soil; Hardy and high, above the slender sheaf, The slimy mallow waves her silky leaf; O'er the young shoot the charlock throws a shade, And clasping tares cling round the sickly blade; With mingled tints the rocky coasts abound, And a sad splendor vainly shines around.

So looks the nymph whom wretched arts adorn, Betrayed by man, then left for man to scorn; Whose cheek in vain assumes the mimic rose, While her sad eyes the troubled breast disclose ;