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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 so convenient does it lay,
The stages pass it ev'ry day:
And then fo fnug, so mighty pretty,
To have a house so near the city!
Take but your places at the Boar,
You're set down at the very door.
Well, then, suppose them fix'd at last,
White-washing, painting, scrubbing past,
Hugging themselves in ease 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 sure it must be own'd,
It is a charming spot of ground;
So sweet a distance for a ride,
And all about so countrified!
”Twould come but to a trifling price
To inake it quite a paradise.
I cannot bear those nafiy rails,
Those ugly broken mouldy pales:
Suppose, my dear, instead of these,
We build a railing, all Chinese:
Although one hates to be expos’d;
Tis dismal to be thus enclos'd;
One hardly any object sees-
I wish you'd fell those odious trees.
Objects continual paffing by
Were fomething to annuse the
But to be pent within the walls-
One might as well be at St. Paul's.
Our house, beholders would adore,
Was there a level lawn before,
Nothing its views to incominode,
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 Šir Thrifty's country feat.
No doubt her arguments prevail,
For Madam's TASTE can never fail.
Bleft age! when all men may procure,
The title of a connoiffeur;
When noble and ignoble herd,
Are govern’d by a fingle word;
Though, like the royal German dames,
It bears an hundred christian names;
As genius, fancy, judgment, gout,
Whim, caprice, jè-ne-scai-quoi, virtù ;
Which appellations all describe
Taste, and the modern tasteful tribe.
Now, bricklay’rs, carpenters, and joiners,
With Chinese artists, and designers,
Produce their schemes of alteration,
To work this wond’rous reformation.
The useful dome, which secret flood,
Embofom'd in the yew-tree's wood,
The trav’ller with amazement fees
A temple, Gothic, or Chinese,
With many a bell, and tawdry rag on,
And crefied 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 designs.
In front, a level lawn is feen,
Without a shrub
green, Where tafte would want its first great law, But for the fkulking, fly ha-ha, By whose miraculous assistance, You gain a prospect two-fields distance. And now from Hyde-Park corner come The gods of Athens and of Rome. Ilere squabby Cupids take their places, With Venus, and the clumsy Graces;
Apollo there, with aim so clever,
Stretches his leaden bow for ever;
And there, without the pow'r to fly,
Stands fix'd, a tip-toe Mercury.
The villa thus completely grac'd,
All own that Thrifiy has a taste;
And Madam's female friends, and coufins,
With common-council-men, by dozens,
Flock every Sunday to the feat,
To ltare about them, and to eat.
ODE TO MIRTH.
PARENT of joy! heart-easing MIRTHI
Whether of Venus or Aurora born;
Yet goddess fure of heavenly birth,
Visit benign a son of grief forlorn:
Thy glittering colours gay,
Around him Mirth display:
And o'er his raptur'd fenfe
Diffuse thy living influence:
So shall each hill in purer green array'd,
And flower adorn'd in new-born beauty glow.
The grove shall smooth the horrors of the ihade,
And fireams in murmurs shall forget to flow.
Shine, goddess, shine with unremitted ray,
And gild (a second fun) with brighter beam our
day. Labour with thee forgets his pain, And aged poverty can I'mile with thee,
If thou be nigh, grief's hate iš vain,
And weak th' uplifted arm of tyranny.
The morning opes on high
His universal eye;
- And on the world doth pour
His glories in a golden shower,
Lo! darkness trembling 'fore the hoflile ray
Shrinks to the cavern deep and wood forlorn:
The brood obscene, that own her gloomy fway,
Troop in her rear and fly th' approach of morn.
Pale fhivering ghosts, that dread th' all-cheering
light, Quick, as the lightnings fash, glide to fepulchral
But whence the gladdening beam
pours bis purple ftream
O’er the long prospect wide ?
'Tis MIRTH. I see her fit
In majesty of light,
With laughter at her side.
Bright-ey'd FANCY hovering near,
Wide waves her glancing wing in air;
And young wit flings his pointed dart,
That guiltless firikes the willing heart.
Fear not now affliction's power,
Fear not now wild paffion's rage,
Nor fear ye aught in evil hour, Save the tardy hand of age. Now MIRTH haih heard the suppliant poet's prayer, Nocloud that rides the blastshall vex the troubled air.
THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMASTER.
BESIDE yon ftraggling fence that skirts the way,
With bloffom'd furze, unprofitably gay,
There, in his noisy mansion, ikillid to rule,
The village master taught his little school;
A man levere he was, and stern to view,
I knew him well, and every truant knew;
Well had the bodling tremblers learn’d to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face,
Full well they laugh’d with counterfeited glee
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;
Full well the busy whisper circling round,
Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd;
Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in, fault;
The village all declar'd how much he knew;
'Twas certain he could write, and cypher too;
Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,
And even the story ran that he could guage:
In arguing too, the parfon own’d his skill,
For even though vanquish'd he could argue ftill;
While words of learned length, and thund'ring sound,
Amaz’d the gazing rustics rang'd around,
And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew,
That one small head could carry all he knew.
But paft is all his fame.-The very spot,
Where many a time he triumph'd; is forgot.
ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH,
STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING. SURE’twas by providence design'd,
Rather in pity than in hate, That he should be like Cupid blind,
To save him from Narcissus' fate.
SWEETNESS. OF damask cheeks, and radiant eyes,
Let other poets tell;
Within the bofom of the fair
Superior beauties dwell.
There all the sprightly pow'rs of wit
In blythe assemblage play;.
There ev'ry social virtue lheds
Its intellectual ray.
But as the sun's refulgent light
Heav'n's wide expanse retines;
With lov’reign luftre through the soul
Celestial sweetness shines.