Fatigu'd with form's oppreffive laws,
When SOMERSET avoids the great;
When cloy'd with merited applaufe,
She feeks the rural calm retreat;
Does fhe not praise each mofly cell,
And feel the truth my numbers tell?
When deafen'd by the loud acclaim,
Which genius grac'd with rank obtains,
Could she not more delighted hear
Yon throstle chaunt the rifing year?
Could the not spurn the wreaths of fame,
To crop the primrofe of the plains?
Does the not sweets in each fair valley find,
Loft to the fons of pow'r, unknown to half mankind?
Ah can fhe covet there to fee
The fplendid flaves, the reptile race,
That oil the tongue, and bow the knee,
That flight her merit, but adore her place?
Far happier, if aright I deem,
When from gay throngs, and gilded spires,
To where the lonely halcyons play,
Her philofophic step retires :
While ftudious of the moral theme,
She, to fome smooth fequefter'd ftream
Likens the fwain's inglorious day;
Pleas'd from the flowery margin to furvey,
How cool, ferene, and clear the current glides away.
O blind to truth, to virtue blind,
Who flight the sweetly-penfive mind!
On whose fair birth the graces mild,
And every mufe prophetic fmil'd.
Not that the poet's boafted fire
Should fame's wide-echoing trumpet fwell;
Or, on the music of his lyre
Each future age with rapture dwell;
The vaunted sweets of praise remove,
Yet fhall fuch bofoms claim a part
In all that glads the human heart;
Yet these the spirits, form'd to judge and prove [love. All nature's charms immense, and heaven's unbounded
And oh! the transport, most ally'd to fong,
In fome fair villa's peaceful bound,
To catch foft hints from nature's tongue,
And bid ARCADIA bloom around:
Whether we fringe the floping hill,
Or fmoothe below the verdant mead;
Whether we break the falling rill,
Or thro' meandering mazes lead
Or in the horrid bramble's room
Bid careless groups of rofes bloom
Or let fome fhelter'd lake ferene
Reflect flow'rs, woods and fpires, and brighten all the
O fweet difpofal of the rural hour!
O beauties never known to cloy!
While worth and genius haunt the favour'd bow'r,
And every gentle breast partakes the joy!
While charity at eve furveys the fwain,
Enabled by these toils to chear
A train of helpless infants dear,
Speed whistling home across the plain;
See vagrant luxury, her hand-maid grown,
For half her gracelefs deeds atone,
And hails the bounteous work, and ranks it with her
Why brand thefe pleasures with the name Of foft, unfocial toils, of indolence and fhame ? Search but the garden, or the wood,
Let yon admir'd carnation own,
Not all was meant for raiment, or for food,
Not all for needful ufe alone;
There while the feeds of future bloffoms dwell, 'Tis colour'd for the fight, perfum'd to please the smell.
Why knows the nightingale to fing?
Why flows the pine's nectareous juice?
Why fhines with paint the linnet's wing?
For fuftenance alone? for use?
For prefervation? Every sphere
Shall bid fair pleafure's rightful claim appear.
And fure there feem, of human kind,
Some born to fhun the folemn ftrife;
Some for amufive tasks defign'd,
'To foothe the certain ills of life;
Grace its lone vales with many a budding rose,
New founts of 'bliss disclose,
Call forth refreshing fhades, and decorate repose.
From plains and woodlands; from the view
Of rural nature's blooming face,
Smit with the glare of rank and place,
To courts the fons of fancy flew ;
There long had art, ordain'd a rival feat;
There had she lavifh'd all her care
To form a scene more dazling fair,
And call'd them from their green retreat
To share her proud controul ;
Had giv❜n the robe with grace to flow,
Had taught exotic gems to glow;
And emulous of nature's pow'r,
Mimick'd the plume, the leaf, the flow'r ; Chang'd the complexion's native hue, Moulded each ruftic limb anew,
And warp'd the very foul 1
Awhile her magic ftrikes the novel eye,
Awhile the faery forms delight;
And now aloof we feem to fly
On purple pinions thro' a purer fky,
Where all is wonderous, all is bright:
Now landed on fome fpangled fhore
Awhile each dazled maniac roves
By faphire lakes, thro' em'rald groves.
Paternal acres please no more;
Adieu the fimple, the fincere delight-
Th' habitual scene of hill and dale,
The rural herds, the vernal gale,
The tangled vetch's purple bloom,
The fragrance of the bean's perfume,
Be theirs alone who cultivate the foil,
And drink the cup of thirst, and eat the bread of toil.
But foon the pageant fades away!
'Tis nature only bears perpetual fway.
We pierce the counterfeit delight,
Fatigu'd with fplendor's irkfome beams.
Fancy again demands the fight
Of native groves, and wonted streams,
Pants for the fcenes that charm'd her youthful eyes,
Where truth maintains her court, and banishes difguife.
Then hither oft ye fenators retire,
With nature here high converse hold;
For who like STAMFORD her delights admire,
Like STAMFORD fhall with fcorn behold
Th' unequal bribes of pageantry and gold;
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