The fun, tho' finish'd half his race,
In clouds, envelop'd, hid his face ;
And, far and wide the naked plain,
Confefs'd ftern winter's tyrant reign:
But yet, you fay, Whene'er my eyes,
With winning fmiles, falute the skies,
The clouds difperfe; unfeen before,
• Phoebus conceals his face no more ;
• When'er I trip, along the fields,
The fpring, her choicest tribute yields;
The flowers, fpontaneous, at my feet,
Adorn my path, o'erfpread my feat.'
Prone to believe, that I poffeft,
Virtues fuperior to the reft;
Myfelf I thought another creature,
More beauties fpy'd in every feature:
To my weak fex, elate with pride,
I fcarce could think myself ally'd;
I quickly drefs'd, and out I went,
'To try the fond experiment.
My firft eflay was on the plain-
I tripp'd,---return'd, and tripp'd again ;
But ftill, no flow'rs beneath my
Spontaneous fprung, nor deck'd my feat; 'The next, to make the ftorms fubfide,
My influence on the skies I try'd;
To heav'n my eyes I gently rais'd.
And form'd the fmile that Damon prais'd;
Their fofteft fmiles, my features wore,
Yet all continued as before;
Till, ftrange to tell! a fhow'r of rain,
Th' unpolish'd clouds return'd again.
So home I came, chagrin'd and fad,
Convinc'd, that you was fool, or mad.
CITIZEN'S JOURNEY TO HIS COUNTRY
THE wealthy cit grown great in trade
Now wishes for the rural fhade;
And buckles to his one-horse chair
Old dobin, or the founder'd mare ;
While wedg'd in closely by his fide,
Sat madam his unweildy bride;
With Jacky on a stool before 'em,
And out they jog in due decorum ;
Scarce pafs'd the turnpike half a mile,
How all the country feems to fmile!
And as they flowly jog together,
The Cit commends the road and weather;
While Madam doats upon the trees,
And longs for every houfe the fees,
Admires it's views, it's fituation,
And thus fhe opens her oration.
What fignifies the loads of wealth,
Without the richest jewel, health?
Excufe the fondness of a wife,
Who doats upon your precious life;
Such ceafelefs toil, fuch constant care,
Is more than human strength can bear ;
One may obferve it in your face,—
Indeed, my dear you break a pace,
And nothing can your health repair,
But exercise and country air :
Sir Traffic has an house you know,
About a mile from Cheny-row;
He's a good man, indeed, it's true,
But not fo warm, my dear, as you ;
And folks are always apt to fneer;
One would not be outdone, my dear.
Sir Traffic's name fo well apply'd,
Awoke his brother merchant's pride;
And Thrifty, who had all his life,
Paid great respect unto his wife,
Confefs'd her arguments had reason,
And by the approaching fummer feafon,
Draws a few hundreds from the stocks,
And purchases a 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 every day,
Take but your places at the Boar,
You're fet down at the very door.
Well, then, fuppofe them fix'd at laft,
With washing, painting, scrubbing past,.
Hugging themselves in ease and clover,
With all the fuss 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 spot of ground,
So fweet a distance for a ride,
And all about fo countryfy'd,
"Twould come but to a trifling price,
To make it quite a Paradise ;
I cannot bear those nafty rails,
Thofe ugly broken mouldy pails ;
Suppofe, my dear, instead of these,
We build a railling of Chinese;
Altho' one hates to be expos'd,
'Tis difmal to be thus inclos'd,
One hardly any object fees;
I wish you'd fell those odious trees,
Objects continually paffing by,
Were something to amuse the eye,
But to be pent within the walls,
One might as well be at St. Paul's;
Our house beholders wou'd adore,
Was there a level lawn before j
Nothing it's views to incommode,
But quite laid open to the road,
While ev'ry trav❜ller in a maze
Shou'd 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 tafte can never fail ;
Now bricklayers, carpenters, and joiners,
With Chinese artifts and defigners,
Produce the fchemes of alteration,
To work this wondrous reformation;
The useful dome which fecret stood,
Embofom'd in the yew-tree wood,
The trav'ller with amazement fees,
A temple Gothic or Chinese,
With many a bell and tawdry lay on,
And tufted with a fprawling dragon;
A wooden arch is bent aftride
A ditch of water, four feet wide,
With angles, carves, and zig-zag lines,
From Halfpenny's exact designs;
In front a level lawn is feen,
Without a fhrub upon the green,
Where tafte wou'd want it's first great law,
But for the skulking fly ha! ha!
By whofe miraculous affiftance,
You gain a profpect two fields distance :
Apollo there with aim fo clever,
Stretches his leaden bow for ever,
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