The worst in genius, meafure and degree;

For envy, hatred, malice, are but parts of thee.

III.

Or woud'st thou change the scene, and quit thy den,
Behold the heav'n-deferted fen,

Where spleen, by vapours denfe begot and bred,
Hardness of heart, and heavinefs of head,

Have rais'd their darkfome walls, and plac'd their thorny bed;

There may'st thou all thy bitterness unload, There may'st thou croak, in concert with the toad,

With thee the hollow howling winds fhall join, Nor fhall the bittern her base throat deny,

The querulous frogs fhall mix their dirge with thine, Th' ear-piercing hern, and plover screaming high, While million humming gnats fit œstrum shall supply.

IV.
Away---away---behold an hideous band

An herd of all thy minions are at hand,
Sufpicion first with jealous caution stalks,

And ever looks around her as fhe walks,
With bibulous ear imperfect founds to catch,'
And prompt to listen at her neighbours latch.
Next Scandal's meagre shade,

Foe to the virgins, and the poet's fame,

A wither'd, time-deflow'red old maid, That ne'er enjoy'd love's ever facred flame.

Hypocrify fucceeds with faint-like look,
And elevates her hands and plods upon her book.
Next comes illiberal scrambling Avarice,
Then Vanity and Affectation nice---
See, the falutes her fhadow with a bow

As in fhort Gallic trips fhe minces by,
Starting antipathy is in her eye,

And fqueamishly fhe knits her scornful brow.
To thee, Ill-Nature, all the numerous group
With lowly reverence ftoop---

They wait thy call, and mourn thy long delay,
Away---thou art infectious---hafte away.

ODE

A

MORNING PIECE,

OR,

An HYMN for the HAY-MAKERS.

O DE I.

Quinetiam Gallum noctem explaudentibus alfs
Auroram clarâ confuetum voce vocare.

BR

RISK chaunticleer his mattins had begun, And broke the filence of the night, And thrice he call'd aloud the tardy fun,

LUCRET..

And thrice he hail'd the dawn's ambiguous light; Back to their graves the fear-begotten phantoms run.

Strong Labour got up with his pipe in his mouth,
And stoutly strode over the dale,

He lent new perfumes to breath of the south,
On his back hung his wallet and flail.

Behind him came Health from her cottage of thatch,
Where never phyfician had lifted the latch.

First of the village Colin was awake,
And thus he fung, reclining on his rake.

C Now the rural graces three
Dance beneath yon maple tree;
First the vestal Virtue, known
By her adamantine zone;
Next to her in rofy pride,
Sweet Society, the bride;
Last Honesty, full feemly dreft
In her cleanly home-spun vest.
The abby bells in wak'ning rounds
The warning peal have giv'n;
And pious Gratitude refounds

Her morning hymn to heav'n..

All nature wakes---the birds unlock their throats,
And mock the fhepherd's ruftic notes.

All alive o'er the lawn,

Full glad of the dawn,

The little lambkins play,

Sylvia and Sol arife,---and all is day--

Come, my mates, let us work,
And all hands to the fork,

While the Sun fhines, our Hay-cocks to make,

So fine is the Day,

And fo fragrant the Hay,

That the Meadow's as blithe as the Wake.

Our