« PreviousContinue »
Thefe here difporting own the kindred foil,
To winnow fragrance round the smiling land.
Man feems the only growth that dwindles
Contrafted faults through all his manners
Though poor, luxurious; though fubmiffive,
Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet
And ev'n in penance planning fins anew.
When commerce proudly flourish'd through the state:
At her command the palace learnt to rife, Again the long-fall'n column fought the skies;
The canvass glow'd beyond e'en nature warm, The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form.
Till, more unsteady than the fouthern gale, Commerce on other shores display'd her fale; While nought remain'd of all that riches gave,
But towns unmann'd, and lords without a
And late the nation found with fruitlefs fkill Its former ftrength was but plethoric ill.
Yet ftill the lofs of wealth is here supplied By arts, the fplendid wrecks of former pride; From these the feeble heart and long-fall'n mind,
An eafy compenfation feem to find.
A mistress or a faint in every grove.
By fports like these are all their cares beguil'd,
The fports of children fatisfy the child; Each nobler aim repreft by long controu!, Now finks at last, or feebly mans the foul;
While low delights, fucceeding fast behind, In happier meanness occupy the mind:
As in those domes, where Cæfars once bore
Defac'd by time and tottering in decay,
Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.
My foul turn from them, turn me to furvey
Where rougher climes à nobler race display, Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread,
And force a churlish foil for scanty bread;
Yet ftill, even here, Content can fpread a
Redrefs the clime, and all its
Though poor the peafant's hut, his feafts though small,
He fees his little lot the lot of all;
Or feeks the den where fnow-tracks mark
And drags the struggling favage into day.
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 every good his native wilds im
Imprints the patriot paffion on his heart, And even those hills, that round his manfion
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 scaring founds moleft, Clings clofe and closer to the mother's breast; So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's
But bind him to his native mountains more.
Such are the charms to barren ftates af
Their wants but few, their wishes all con fin'd.
Yet let them only fhare the praises due,
For every want that ftimulates the breast, Becomes a fource of pleasure when redreft.