ARGUMENT. AN invitation, v. 1. The approach to a villa described, v. 5. Its situation, v. 17. Its few apartments, v. 57. furnished with casts from the antique, and engravings from the Italian masters, v. 63. The dining-room, v. $3. The library, v. 89. A cold bath, v. 101. An ice-house, v. 111. A winter walk, v. 157. The invitation renewed, v. 203. A summer walk, v. 169, AN EPISTLE TO A FRIEND. WHEN with a REAUMUR's skill, thy curious mind Has classed the insect-tribes of human kind, Each with its busy hum, or gilded wing, Its subtle web-work, or its venomed sting; Let me, to claim a few unvalued hours, [flowers; Point the green lane that leads through fern and The sheltered gate that opens to my field, And the white front through mingling elms revealed. To simple comforts and domestic rites, When Bond-street hails thee to its splendid mart, And, lo! majestic as thy manly song, [blaze; When April verdure springs in Grosvenor-square, And the furred beauty comes to winter there, She bids old nature mar the plan no more, Yet still the seasons circle as before. Ah, still as soon the young Aurora plays, Though moons and flambeaux trail their broadest As soon the sky-lark pours his matin song, Though evening lingers at the mask so long. There let her strike with momentary ray, As tapers shine their little lives away; There let her practice from herself to steal, Fan with affected ease the essenced air, Here no state-chambers in long line unfold, Bright with broad mirrors, rough with fretted gold; Yet modest ornament with use combined, Attracts the eye to exercise the mind. [quires, (3) Small change of scene, small space his home reWho leads a life of satisfied desires. What though no marble breathes, no canvass glows, From every point a ray of genius flows! Be mine to bless the more mechanic skill, Here from the mould to conscious being, start And here the faithful graver dares to trace Soon as the morning-dream my pillow flies, (4) O mark! again the coursers of the sun, (5) But could thine erring friend so long forget, Sweet source of pensive joy and fond regret, That here its warmest hues the pencil flings, Lo! here the lost restores, the absent brings; And still the few best loved and most revered (6) Rise round the board their social smile endeared? (7) Selected shelves shall claim thy studious hours; There shall thy ranging mind be fed on flowers! There, while the shaded lamps mild lustre streams,* Read ancient books, or woo inspiring dreams; And when a sages bust arrests thee there, Pause, and his features with his thoughts compare. Ah, most that art my grateful rapture calls, Which breathes a soul into the silent walls ;† Which gathers round the wise of every tongue, (10) All on whose words departed nations hung; Still prompt to charm with many a converse sweet; Guides in the world, companions in retreat! Though my thatched bath no rich mosaic knows, A limped stream with unfelt current flows. Emblem of life! which, still as we survey, Seems motionless, yet ever glides away! apis Matinæ More modoque Grata carpentis thyma... HOR. (8) (9) Postea vero quam Tyrannio mihi libros disposuit, mens addita videtur meis ædibus. CIC. |