Each nobler aim repreft by long controul,
Now finks at laft, or feebly mans the foul;
While low delights, fucceeding faft behind,
In happier meannefs occupy the mind:
As in thofe domes, where Cæfars once bore fway,
Defac'd by time and tott'ring in decay,
There in the ruin, heedlefs of the dead,
The shelter-feeking peafant builds his fhed,.
And, wond'ring man could want a larger pile,
Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.
My foul turn from them, turn we to furvey, Where rougher climes a nobler race difplay, Where the bleak Swiss their flormy manfions tread, And force a churlifh foil for fcanty bread: No product here the barren hills afford, But man and steel, the foldier and his fword. No vernal blooms their torpid rocks But winter ling'ring chills the lap of May; No zephyr fondly fues the mountain's breaft, But meteors glare, and ftormy glooms invest.
Yet ftill, ev'n here, content can fpread a charm, Redress the clime, and all its rage difarm.
Though poor the peasants hut, his feafts though fmall, He fees his little lot the lot of all;
Sees no contiguous palace rear its head
To fhame the meanness of his humble shed ;
No coftly lord the fumptuous banquet deal
To make him loath his vegetable meal;
But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,
Each with contracting, fits him to the foil.
Chearful at morn he wakes from fhort repose,
Breaths the keen air, and carols as he goes;
With patient angle trolls the finny deep,
Or drives his vent'rous plough-fhare to the steep;
Or feeks the den where fnow-tracts mark the way,
And drags the struggling favage into day.
At night returning, ev'ry labour sped,
He fits him down the monarch of a fhed;
Smiles by his chearful fire, and round furveys
His childrens looks, that brighten at the blaze;
While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard,
Difplays her cleanly platter on the board:
And haply too fome pilgrim, thither led,
With many a tale repays the nightly bed.
Thus ev'ry good his native wilds impart,
Imprints the patriot paffion on his heart,
And even thofe hills, that round his manfion rife,
Enhance the blifs his fcanty fund fupplies.
Dear is that shed to which his foul conforms,
And dear that hill which lifts him to the ftorms;
And as a child, when fearing founds moleft,
Clings clofe and closer to the mother's breaft,
So the loud torrent and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more.
Such are the charms to barren ftates affign'd; Their wants but few, their wifhes all confin'd. Yet let them only share the praises due,' If few their wants, their pleafures are but few; For ev'ry want that ftimulates the breaft, Becomes a fource of pleasure when redréft. Whence from fuch lands each pleafing science flies, That firft excites defire, and then fupplies; Unknown to them, when fenfual pleafures cloy, To fill the languid paufe with finer joy; Unknown thofe pow'rs that raise the foul to flame, Catch ev'ry nerve, and vibrate through the frame. Their level life is but a mould ring fire, Unquench'd by want, unfann'd by strong defire; Unfit for raptures, or, if raptures cheer On fome high festival of once a year, In wild excefs the vulgar breaft takes fire, Till buried in debauch, the bliss expire.
But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow:
Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low,
For, as refinement ftops, from fire to fon,
Unalter'd, unimprov'd their manners run,
And love's and friendship's finely pointed dart
Falls blunted from each indurated heart.
Some sterner virtues o'er the mountain's breast
May fit, like falcons cow'ring on the nest;
But all the gentler morals, fuch as play
'Through life's more cultur'd walks, and charm the way,
Thefe far difpers'd on timorous pinions fly,
To port and flutter in a kinder fky.
To kinder fkies, where gentler manners reign,
I turn; and France difplays her bright domain.
Gay fprightly land of mirth and focial cafe,
Pleas d with thyfelf, whom all the world can please,
How often have I led thy fportive choir,
With tunelefs pipe, befide the murmuring Loire ?
Where thading elms along the margin grew,
And frefhen'd from the wave the zephyr flew ;
And haply, though my harsh touch falt'ring till,
But mock'd all tune, and marr'd the dancer's fkill;
Yet would the village praife my wond'rous pow'r,
And dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour.
Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days
Have led their children through the mirthful maze,
And the gay grandfire fkill'd in geftic lore,
Has frisk'd beneath the burthen of threefcore.
So bleft a life these thoughtless realms display,
Thus idly bufy rolls their world away
Theirs are thofe arts that mind to mind endear,
For honour forms the focial temper here..!
Honour, that praife which real merit gains,
Or ev'n imaginary worth obtains,
Here paffes current; paid from hand to hand,
It shifts in fplendid traffic round the land;
From courts, to camps, to cottages it rays,
And all are taught an avarice of praife;
They pleafe, are pleas'd they give to get efleem,
Till, feeming bleft, they grow to what they feem.
But while this fofter art their blifs fupplies,
It gives their follies alfo room to rife;
For praife too dearly lov'd, or warmly fought,
Enfeebles all internal ftrength of thought.
And the weak foul, within itself unbleft,
Leans for all pleasure on another's breast.
Hence oftentation here, with tawdry art,
Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart
Here vanity affumes her pert grimace,
And trims her robes of frize with copper lace;
Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer,
To boaft one fplendid banquet once a year;
The mind ftill turns where shifting fashion draws,
Nor weighs the folid worth of self applaufe.
To men of other minds my fancy flies,
Embofom'd in the deep where Holland lies.
Methinks her patient fons before me ftand,
Where the broad ocean leans against the land,
And, fedulous to ftop the coming tide,
Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride.
Onward me thinks, and diligently flow
The firm connected bulwark feems to go;
Spreads its long arms amidst the watry roar,
Scoops out an empire, and ufurps the fhore.
While the pent ocean rifing o'er the pile,
Sees an amphibious world beneath him smile;
The flow canal, the yellow bloffom'd vale,
The willow tufted bank, the gliding fail,
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain,
A new creation refcu'd from his reign.
Thus while around the wave-fubjected foil
Impels the native to repeated toil,
Industrious habits in each bofom reign,
And industry begets a love of gain.
Hence all the good from opulence that springs,
With all thofe ills fuperfluous treasure brings,
Are here difplay'd. Their much-lov'd wealth imparts
Convenience, plenty, elegance and arts;
But view them clofer, craft and fraud
Ev'n liberty itself is barter'd here.
At gold's fuperior charms all freedom flies,
The needy fell it, and the rich man buys:
A land of Tyrant's and a den of flaves,
Here wretches feck difhonourable graves,"
And calmly bent, to fervitude conform,
Dull as their lakes that flumber in the form.
Heav'ns how unlike their Belgic fires of old;
Rough, pbor, content, ungovernably bold;
War in each breaft, and freedom on each brow;
How much unlike the fons of Britain now!
Fir'd at the found my genius fpreads her wing,
And flies where Britain courts the western fpring;
Where lawns extend that fearn Arcadian pride,
And brighter streams than fam'd Hydafpes glide,
There all around the gentleft breezes tray,
There gentleft mufic inelts on ev'ry fpray;
Creation's mildeft charms are there combin'd,"
Extremes are only in the master's mind
Stern o'er each bosom reason holds her state
With daring aims irregularly great,
Pride in their port defiance in their eye,
I fee the lords of human kind pass by,
Intent on high defigns, a thoughtful band,
By forms unfashion d fresh from Nature's hand;
Fierce in their native hardiness of foul,
True to imagin'd right, above controul,
While ev'n the peafant boafts these rights to scan,
And learns to venerate himself as man.
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