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" Is that the case? d'ertake your master,
" Tell him, from me, to gallop faster;
“ For if our keeper gets him here,
" He'll tie him down, at least, a year."
FOR THE SITUATION AND CONSTRUCTION OF
WOULD ye, with faultless judgment, learn
to plan The rural seat? to copy, as ye rove, The we!l-form'd picture, and correct design? First thun the false extreines of high and low; With watry vapours this your fretted walls will soon deface; and that, with rough affault, And frequent te npeft, shake your tott'ring roof. Me most the gentle eminence delights Of healthy champaign, to the sunny south Fair op'ning, and with woods, and circling hills, Nor too remote, nor, with too close embrace, Stopping the buxom air, behind enclos'd. But if your lot hath fall’n in fields lefs fair, Consult their genius, and, with due regard .To nature's clear directions, shape your plan; The site too lofty shelter; and the low,
With sunny lawns, and open areas cheer.
The marih drain, and, with ca; acicus urns,
And well conducted streams, refresh the dry.
So fhall your lawns with healthful verdure smile,
While others, fick’ning at the sultry blaze,
A ruffet wild display, cr the rank blade,
And matted tufts the careless owner Ahame.
Seek not, with fruitless coft, the level plain
To raise aloft, nor fink the rising hill.
Each hath its charms, though different, cach, in
In prove, not alter. Art with art conceal.
Let no strait terrac'd lines your slopes deform,
No barb’rous walls resirain ihe bounded light.
With better skill your chofte deigne display;
And to the distant fields the closer scene
Connect. The spacious lawn with featter'd trecs
Irregular, in beauteous negligence,
Clithe bountiful. Your uniimpilon's eye,
With pleafing freedom, thro' the fty maze
Shail rove, and find no dull fariety.
The winding strcam with fanu line avoid
Tu torture, nor preser the long canal,
Or labour'd fount, to nature's easy flow,
And artlefs full. Your grav'lly winding paths
Now to the fresh’ning breeze, or funny ghian
DireEted, now with high embow’ring treeng
Or fragrant shrubs conceai'd with requent le t,
And rural itiucture deck. Thiir plating io.th
To fancy's eye suggests inhabitants
Of more than mortal make, and their cool shade.
And friendly shelter, to refreshment sweet
And wholesome meditation shall invite.
To ev'ry structure give its proper site.
Nor, on the dreary heath, the gay alcove,
Nor the lone hermit's cell or mournful urn,
Build, on the sprightly lawn. The grassy flope
And sheltered border for the cool arcade,
Or Tuscan porch reserve. To the chaste dome,
And fair rotunda give the swelling mount
Of freshest green. If to the Gothic scene
Your taste incline, in the well-water'd vale,
With lofty pines embrown'd, the mimic fane,
And mould'ring abbey's fretted windows place,
The craggy rock, or precipitious hill,
Shall well become the castle’s mally walls,
In royal villas the palladian arch,
And Grecian portico, with dignity,
Their pride display: ill suits their lofty rank
The simpler scene. If chance historic deeds
Your fields distinguish, count them doubly fair,
And studious, aid, with monumental stone,
And faithful comment, fancy's fond review.
ON A LADY'S ASKING A GENTLEMAN
MY paffion, Sylvia, to prove,
You bid me tell how much I love.
I love thee then-but language fails-
More than bees love flow'ry vales;
More than turtle loves his dove;
More than warblers love the grove :
More than nature loves the spring;
More than linnet loves to sing ;
More than insects funny beams;
More than poets airy dreams;
More than fishes love the flood;
More than patriots publick good;
More than flocks the grassy plains,
More than hinds increasing rains ;
More than statesman loves his plot;
More than am'rous age to doat;
More than lords their pedigree ;
More than Britons to be free;
More than heirs love twenty-one ;
More than heroes laurels won;
More than elves the moon-light shade;
More than ancient maids to wed;
More than hermit loves his cell;
More than beauty to excel;
More than miser loves his store;
More than myself—can I do more?
AN ELEGY ON THE FIRST OF
WHEN PARTRIDGES ARE ALLCWED TO BE KILLED
BY ALT OF PARLIAMENT.
WHEN the still night withdrew her fable
shroud, And left these climes with steps sedate and low; Whilst lad Aurora kerchief'd in a cloud, With drizzly vapours hung the mountain's brow:
The wretched bird from hapless + Perdix sprung, With trembling wings forsook the furrow'd plair And calling round her all her lift'ning young, In falt’ring accents sung this plaintive strain : “ Unwelcome morn! full well thy low'ring mien “Foretells the slaughters of th'approaching day; " The gloomy sky laments with tears the scene, “Where pale-ey'd terror re-assumes her sway.
+ Perdix was supposed to be turned into a partridge. See Ovid's Metamorpkoses.