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Draws a few hundreds from the ftocks, 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 fo convenient does it lay, The ftages pafs it ev'ry day: And then fo fnug, fo mighty pretty, To have a houfe fo near the city! Take but your places at the Boar, You're fet down at the very door. Well, then, fuppofe them fix'd at last, White-washing, painting, fcrubbing paft, Hugging themfelves 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 fure it must be own'd, It is a charming fpot of ground; So fweet a distance for a ride, And all about fo countrified! "Twould come but to a trifling price To make it quite a paradise. I cannot bear thofe nafty rails, Thofe ugly broken mouldy pales: Suppofe, my dear, inftead of thefe, We build a railing, all Chinese: Although one hates to be expos'd; 'Tis difmal to be thus enclos'd; One hardly any object feesI with you'd fell thofe odious trees. Objects continual passing by Were fomething to amufe the eye; But to be pent within the walls— One might as well be at St. Paul's. Our houfe, beholders would adore, Was there a level lawn before, Nothing its views to incommode, 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 Sir 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 chriftian names;
As genius, fancy, judgment, goût,
Whim, caprice, je-ne-fcai-quoi, virtù;
Which appellations all defcribe
TASTE, and the modern tafteful tribe.
Now, bricklay'rs, carpenters, and joiners,
With Chinefe artifts, and defigners,
Produce their fchemes of alteration,
To work this wond'rous reformation.
The ufeful dome, which fecret flood,
Embofom'd in the yew-tree's wood,
The trav'ller with amazement fees
A temple, Gothic, or Chinefe,
With many a bell, and tawdry rag on,
And crefied with a fprawling dragon;
A wooden arch is bent aftride
A ditch of water, four feet wide,
With angles, curves, and zigzag lines,
From Halfpenny's exact defigns.
In front, a level lawn is feen,
Without a fhrub upon the green,
Where tafte would want its firft great law,
But for the fkulking, fly ha-ha,
By whofe miraculous affifiance,
You gain a profpect two-fields diftance.
And now from Hyde-Park corner come
The gods of Athens and of Rome.
Here fquabby Cupids take their places,
With Venus, and the clumfy Graces;

Apollo there, with aim fo 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 Thrifty has a tafte;
And Madam's female friends, and coufins,
With common-council-men, by dozens,
Flock every Sunday to the feat,
To ftare about them, and to eat.


PARENT of joy! heart-eafing MIRTHI
Whether of Venus or Aurora born;
Yet goddefs fure of heavenly birth,
Vifit benign a son of grief forlorn:
Thy glittering colours gay,
Around him MIRTH difplay:
And o'er his raptur'd fenfe
Diffufe thy living influence:

So fhall each hill in purer green array'd,
And flower adorn'd in new-born beauty glow.
The grove fhall fmooth the horrors of the thade,
And ftreams in murmurs fhall forget to flow.
Shine, goddefs, fhine with unremitted ray,
And gild (a fecond fun) with brighter beam our

Labour with thee forgets his pain,

And aged poverty can fmile with thee,
If thou be nigh, grief's hate is vain,
And weak th' uplifted arm of tyranny.
The morning opes on high
His univerfal eye;

And on the world doth pour

His glories in a golden fhower,

Lo! darknefs trembling 'fore the hoftile ray Shrinks to the cavern deep and wood forlorn: The brood obfcene, that own her gloomy fway, Troop in her rear and fly th' approach of morn.

Pale fhivering ghofis, that dread th' all-cheering light,

Quick, as the lightnings flash, glide to fepulchral


But whence the gladdening beam
That pours his purple fiream

O'er the long profpect wide?
'Tis MIRTH. I fee her fit
In majefty of light,.

With laughter at her fide.
Bright-ey'd FANCY hovering near,
Wide waves her glancing wing in air;
And young wIT things his pointed dart,
That guiltlefs 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 hath heard the fuppliant poet's prayer,
No cloud that rides the blast shall vex the troubled air.



ESIDE yon fraggling fence that skirts the way, With bloffom'd turze, unprofitably gay, There, in his noify mansion, skill'd to rule, The village mafter taught his little school; A man fevere he was, and fstern to view, I knew him well, and every truant knew; Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace The day's difafters 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 bufy whifper circling round, Convey'd the difinal tidings when he frown'd; Yet he was kind, or if fevere 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 prefage,
And even the story ran that he could guage:
In arguing too, the parfon own'd his fkill,
For even though vanquifh'd he could argue fiill;
While words of learned length, and thund'ring found,
Amaz'd the gazing ruftics rang'd around,
And ftill they gaz'd, and ftill the wonder grew,
That one fmall head could carry all he knew.
But paft is all his fame.-The very spot,
Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot.



SURE 'twas by providence defign'd,
Rather in pity than in hate,

That he fhould be like Cupid blind,
To fave him from Narciffus' fate.


OF damask cheeks, and radiant eyes,
Let other poets tell;

Within the bofom of the fair
Superior beauties dwell.

There all the fprightly pow'rs of wit
In blythe affemblage play;
There ev'ry focial virtue fheds
Its intellectual ray.

But as the fun's refulgent light
Heav'n's wide expanfe retines;
With fov'reign luftre through the foul
Celestial fweetnefs fhines.

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