Thither affliction, thither poverty,

And arts and sciences; thrice happy clime,
Which Britain makes th' asylum of mankind.
But joy superior far his bosom warms,

Who views those shores in every culture dressed;
With habitations gay, and numerous towns
On hill and valley; and his countrymen
Formed into various states, powerful and rich,
In regions far remote; who from our looms
Take largely for themselves, and for those tribes
Of Indians, ancient tenants of the land,
In amity conjoin'd, of civil life

The comforts taught, and various new desires
Which kindle arts, and occupy the poor,
And spread Britannia's flocks o'er every dale.
Ye, who the shuttle cast along the loom,
The silkworm's thread inweaving with the fleece,
Pray for the culture of the Georgian track,
Nor slight the green savannas and the plains
Of Carolina, where thick woods arise

Of mulberries, and in whose watered fields
Upsprings the verdant blade of thirsty rice.
Where are the happy regions which afford
More implements of commerce and of wealth?
Fertile Virginia, like a vigorous bough,
Which overshades some crystal river, spreads
Her wealthy cultivations wide around,
And, more than many a spacious realm, rewards
The fleecy shuttle: to her growing marts
The Iroquese, Cheroquese, and Oubaches come,
And quit their feathery ornaments uncouth
For woolly garments; and the cheers of life-
The cheers, but not the vices, learn to taste.
Blush, Europeans! whom the circling cup
Of luxury intoxicates; ye routs,

Who, for your crimes, have fled your native land;
And ye voluptuous idle, who in vain

Seek easy habitations, void of care:

The sons of Nature with astonishment

And detestation mark your evil deeds,

And view, no longer aw'd, your nerveless arms, Unfit to cultivate Ohio's banks.

See the bold emigrants of Acadie

And Massachuset, happy in those arts
That join the politics of trade and war,

Bearing the palm in either; they appear
Better exemplars; and that hardy crew
Who, on the frozen beach of Newfoundland,
Hang their white fish amid the parching winds;
The kindly fleece, in webs of Duffield woof,
Their limbs, benumb'd, infold with cheerly warmth;
And frieze of Cambria, worn by those who seek
Through gulfs and dales of Hudson's winding bay
The beaver's fur, though oft they seek in vain ;
While Winter's frosty rigor checks approach
E'en in the fiftieth latitude. Say why

(If ye, the travel'd sons of commerce, know),
Wherefore lie bound their rivers, lakes, and dales
Half the sun's annual course in chains of ice,
While the Rhine's fertile shore, and Gallic realms,
By the same zone encircled, long enjoy

Warm beams of Phoebus, and, supine, behold

Their plains and hillocks blush with clustering vines ›
Must it be ever thus? or may the hand
Of mighty labor drain their gusty lakes,
Enlarge the brightening sky, and, peopling, warm
The opening valleys and the yellowing plains?
Or, rather, shall we burst strong Darien's chain,
Steer our bold fleets between the cloven rocks,
And through the great Pacific every joy

Of civil life diffuse? Are not her isles

Numerous and large? Have they not harbors calm,
Inhabitants, and manners? Haply, too,

Peculiar sciences, and other forms

Of trade, and useful products, to exchange
For woolly vestures?

A day will come, if not too deep we drink

The cup which luxury, on careless wealth,
Pernicious gift! bestows. A day will come,

When, through new channels sailing, we shall clǝthe
The Californian coast, and all the realms

That stretch from Anian's straits to proud Japan.

DYER'S Fleece, 1700-1758,

A FAYRE AND HAPPY MILK-MAID.

Is a countrey wench, that is so farre from making her selfe beautifull by art, that one looke of hers is able to put all face physicke out of countenance. She knowes a faire looke is but a dumbe orator to com

mend virtue, therefore minds it not. All her excellencies stand in her so silently, as if they had stolne upon her without her knowledge. The lining of her apparall (which is her selfe) is farre better than outsides of tisseu; for though she be not arraied in the spoile of the silke-worme, shee is deckt in innocency, a farre better wearing. She doth not, with lying long abed, spoile both her complexion and conditions. Nature hath taught her too immoderate sleepe is rust to the soule; she rises, therefore, with chaunticleare, her dame's cock, and at night makes the lambe her curfew. In milking a cow, a-straining the teats through her fingers, it seems that so sweete a milk-presse makes the milk the whiter or sweeter; for never came almond glove, or aromatique oyntment on her palme to taint it. The golden eares of corne fall and kisse her feet when she reapes them, as if they wisht to be bound, and led prisoners by the same hand that fell'd them. Her breath is her own, which scents all the yeare long of June, like a new-made hay-cocke. She makes her hand hard with labour, and her heart soft with pity; and when winter evenings fall early (sitting at her mery wheele) she sings a defiance to the giddy wheele of fortune. She doth all things with so sweet a grace, it seems ignorance will not suffer her to do ill, being her mind is to doe well. She bestowes her yeare's wages at next faire; and in chusing her garments, counts no bravery i' the world like decency. The garden and bee-hive are all her physick and chyrurgerye, and shee lives the longer for't. She dares goe alone, and unfold sheepe i' the night, and feares no manner of ill, because she meanes none; yet to say truth, she is never alone, for she is still accompanied with old songs, honest thoughts, and prayers, but short ones; yet they have their efficacy, in that they are not pauled with ensuing idle cogitations. Lastly: her dreams are so chaste, that she dare tell them; only a Fridaie's dream is all her superstition: that shee conceales for feare of anger. Thus lives she, and all her care is that she may die in the spring-time, to have store of flowers stucke upon her winding-sheet.

SIR THOMAS OVERBURY, 1581-1613.

SHEEP-PASTURES.

The Teviot takes its course through wide valleys of smooth, extended pasturage, sloping down to it in all directions, and in general forming beautiful lines, though otherwise void of all those circumstances, and that variety of objects, particularly of wood, which give beauty to landscape. In some parts these valleys are also contracted, but in a different manner from those of the Esk. The same breadth of feature is still preserved which we had in the more open parts, only it is here brought nearer to the eye. Though the lofty skreens rush down precipitately to the river, and contract the valleys, you see plainly they are the parts of