But now the pleafing dream is o'er,
These scenes must charm me now no more,
Loft to the field, and torn from you,
Me wrangling courts, and stubborn Law,
To smoak, and crowds, and cities draw;
There selfish Faction rules the day,
And Pride and Av'rice throng the way:
Diseases taint the murky air,
And midnight conflagrations glare;
Loose Revelry and Riot bold
In frighted streets their orgies hold;
Or, when in filence all is drown'd,
Fell Murder walks her lonely round:
No room for peace, no room for you,
Adieu, celeftial Nymph, adieu!
Shakespear no more, thy fylvan fon,
Nor all the art of Addison,
Pope's heav'n-ftrung lyre, nor Waller's ease,
Nor Milton's mighty felf muft please :
Inftead of thefe, a formal band
In furs and coifs around me ftand;
With founds uncouth and accents dry
That grate the foul of harmony,
Each pedant fage unlocks his ftore
Of myftic, dark, difcordant lore;
And points with tott'ring hand the ways
That lead me to the thorny maze.
There, in a winding, clofe retreat,
Is Juftice doom'd to fix her feat,
There, fenc'd by bulwarks of the Law,
She keeps the wond'ring world in awe,
And there, from vulgar fight retir'd,
Like eastern queens, is more admir'd.
O let me pierce the fecret fhade
Where dwells the venerable maid!
There humbly mark, with rev'rent awe,
The guardian of Britannia's Law,
Unfold with joy her facred page,
(Th' united boast of many an age,
Where mix'd, yet uniform, appears
The wisdom of a thousand years)
In that pure spring the bottom view,
Clear, deep, and regularly true,
And other doctrines thence imbibe
Than lurk within the fordid scribe;
Obferve how parts with parts unite
In one harmonious rule of right;
See countless wheels diftinctly tend
By various laws to one great end ;
While mighty Alfred's piercing foul
Pervades, and regulates the whole.
Then welcome business, welcome ftrife,
Welcome the cares, the thorns of life,
The vifage wan, the pore-blind fight,
The toil by day, the lamp at night,
The tedious forms, the folemn prate,
The pert difpute, the dull debate,
The drowsy bench, the babling Hall,
For thee, fair Juftice, welcome all!
Thus though my noon of life be past,
Yet let my fetting fun, at laft,
Find out the ftill, the rural cell,
Where fage Retirement loves to dwell!
There let me taste the homefelt blifs
Of innocence, and inward peace;
Untainted by the guilty bribe;
Uncurs'd amid the harpy-tribe;
No orphan's cry to wound my ear;
My honour and my confcience clear;
Thus may I calmly meet my end,
Thus to the grave in peace defcend.
By Mifs COOPER (now Mrs. MADAN) in her Brother's Coke upon Littleton.
Thou, who labour'ft in this rugged mine,
May'st thou to gold th' unpolish'd ore refine! May each dark page unfold its haggard brow! Doubt not to reap, if thou canst bear to plough. To tempt thy care, may, each revolving night, Purses and maces swim before thy fight! From hence in times to come, advent'rous deed! May'st thou effay, to look and speak like Mead. When the black bag and rofe no more shall shade With martial air the honours of thy head; When the full wig thy vifage fhall enclose,
And only leave to view thy learned nose :
Safely may'st thou defy beaux, wits, and scoffers;
While tenants, in fee fimple, ftuff thy coffers.
Solitude, romantic maid,
Whether by nodding towers you tread,
Or haunt the defart's tracklefs gloom,
Or hover o'er the yawning tomb,
Or climb the Andes' clifted fide,
Or by the Nile's coy fource abide,
Or starting from your half-year's fleep
From Hecla view the thawing deep,
Or at the purple dawn of day,
Tadmor's marble waftes furvey;
You, Reclufe, again I woo,
And again your steps purfue.
Plum'd Conceit himself furveying,
Folly with her fhadow playing,
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