Health, leisure, means to improve it, friendship, peace; No loose or wanton, though a wandering muse, And constant occupation without care. Thus blest, I draw a picture of that bliss: Hopeless indeed that dissipated minds, And profligate abusers of a world Created fair so much in vain for them, Should seek the guiltless joys that I describe Allured by my report: but sure no less That self-condemn'd they must neglect the prize, And what they will not taste, must yet approve. What we admire we praise; and when we praise Advance it into notice, that its worth Acknowledged, others may admire it too. I therefore recommend, though at the risk Of popular disgust, yet boldly still, The cause of piety and sacred truth
And virtue, and those scenes which God ordain'd Should best secure them and promote them most; Scenes that I love, and with regret perceive Forsaken, or through folly not enjoy'd 25. Pure is the nymph, though liberal of her smiles, And chaste, though unconfined, whom I extol; Not as the prince in Sushan, when he call'd Vain-glorious of her charms his Vashti forth To grace the full pavilion. His design
25 On every thorn delightful wisdom grows, In every rill a sweet instruction flows; But some untaught, ne'er hear the whispering rill, In spite of sacred leisure blockheads still.
Was but to boast his own peculiar good, Which all might view with envy, none partake. My charmer is not mine alone; my sweets
And she that sweetens all my bitters too, Nature, enchanting Nature, in whose form And lineaments divine I trace a hand That errs not, and find raptures still renew'd, Is free to all men, universal prize.
Strange that so fair a creature should yet want Admirers, and be destined to divide
With meaner objects, even the few she finds. Stript of her ornaments, her leaves and flowers, She loses all her influence. Cities then 26 Attract us, and neglected Nature pines Abandon'd, as unworthy of our love.
But are not wholesome airs, though unperfumed By roses, and clear suns though scarcely felt, And groves if unharmonious, yet secure
From clamour, and whose very silence charms, To be preferr'd to smoke, to the eclipse That metropolitan volcanoes make,
Whose Stygian throats breathe darkness all day long, And to the stir of commerce, driving slow,
And thundering loud, with his ten thousand wheels? They would be, were not madness in the head And folly in the heart; were England now What England was, plain, hospitable, kind, And undebauch'd. But we have bid farewell To all the virtues of those better days, And all their honest pleasures. Mansions once
26 Tower'd cities please us then
And the busy hum of men.
Knew their own masters, and laborious hinds That had survived the father, served the son. Now the legitimate and rightful Lord
Is but a transient guest, newly arrived And soon to be supplanted. He that saw His patrimonial timber cast its leaf,
Sells the last scantling, and transfers the price To some shrewd sharper, ere it buds again. Estates are landscapes, gazed upon awhile,
Then advertised, and auctioneer'd away.
The country starves, and they that feed the o'ercharged And surfeited lewd town with her fair dues,
By a just judgement strip and starve themselves. The wings that waft our riches out of sight Grow on the gamester's elbows, and the alert And nimble motion of those restless joints That never tire, soon fans them all away. Improvement too, the idol of the age, Is fed with many a victim. Lo! he comes,- The omnipotent magician, Brown appears. Down falls the venerable pile, the abode Of our forefathers, a grave whisker'd race, But tasteless. Springs a palace in its stead, But in a distant spot; where more exposed It may enjoy the advantage of the North And agueish East, till time shall have transformed Those naked acres to a sheltering grove.
He speaks. The lake in front becomes a lawn, Woods vanish, hills subside, and valleys rise, And streams, as if created for his use, Pursue the track of his directing wand, Sinuous or straight, now rapid and now slow,
Now murmuring soft, now roaring in cascades, Even as he bids. The enraptured owner smiles. 780 'Tis finish'd! And yet finish'd as it seems, Still wants a grace, the loveliest it could show, A mine to satisfy the enormous cost.
Drain'd to the last poor item of his wealth,
He sighs, departs, and leaves the accomplish'd plan 785 That he has touch'd, retouch'd, many a long day Labour'd, and many a night pursued in dreams, Just when it meets his hopes, and proves the heaven He wanted, for a wealthier to enjoy 28.
And now perhaps the glorious hour is come,
When having no stake left, no pledge to endear Her interests, or that gives her sacred cause A moment's operation on his love,
He burns with most intense and flagrant zeal To serve his country. Ministerial grace Deals him out money from the public chest ; Or if that mine be shut, some private purse Supplies his need with an usurious loan, To be refunded duly, when his vote 29, Well-managed, shall have earn'd its worthy price. 800
27 The pile is finish'd; every toil is past, And full perfection is arrived at last ;
When lo! my Lord to some small corner runs, And leaves state rooms to strangers and to duns.
28 The man who builds, and wants therewith to pay, Provides a home from which to run away.
29 When men grow great from their revenue spent, And fly from bailiffs into parliament.
Oh innocent compared with arts like these, Crape and cock'd pistol and the whistling ball Sent through the traveller's temples! He that finds One drop of heaven's sweet mercy in his cup, Can dig, beg, rot, and perish well-content, So he may wrap himself in honest rags At his last gasp; but could not for a world Fish up his dirty and dependent bread From pools and ditches of the commonwealth, Sordid and sickening at his own success.
Ambition, avarice, penury incurr'd
By endless riot, vanity, the lust Of pleasure and variety, dispatch,
As duly as the swallows disappear,
The world of wandering knights and 'squires to town. London ingulfs them all. The shark is there And the shark's prey; the spendthrift and the leech That sucks him: there the sycophant and he That with bare-headed and obsequious bows Begs a warm office, doom'd to a cold jail
And groat per diem if his patron frown. The levee swarms, as if in golden pomp
Were character'd on every statesman's door,
"BATTER'D AND BANKRUPT FORTUNES MENDED
These are the charms that sully and eclipse The charms of nature. 'Tis the cruel gripe That lean hard-handed poverty inflicts, The hope of better things, the chance to win, The wish to shine, the thirst to be amused, That at the sound of Winter's hoary wing, Unpeople all our counties, of such herds
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