15 The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade And still, as each repeated pleasure tired, 20 25 The dancing pair that simply sought renown By holding out to tire each other down; The swain mistrustless of his smutted face, While secret laughter tittered round the place; The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love, The matron's glance that would those looks reprove: 30 These were thy charms, sweet village! sports like these, With sweet succession, taught even toil to please: These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed: These were thy charms but all these charms are fled. Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn, 35 One only master grasps the whole domain, No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, 40 45 The hollow sounding bittern guards its nest; 50 Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay: Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made: But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, 55 When once destroyed, can never be supplied. A time there was, ere England's griefs began, When every rood of ground maintained its man; For him light labour spread her wholesome store, Just gave what life required, but gave no more: His best companions, innocence and health; And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. 61 85 Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power. 91 95 100 105 O blest retirement, friend to life's decline, Retreats from care, that never must be mine, How happy he who crowns in shades like these A youth of labour with an age of ease; Who quits a world where strong temptations try, And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep; No surly porter stands in guilty state, To spurn imploring famine from the gate; But on he moves to meet his latter end, Angels around befriending Virtue's friend; Bends to the grave with unperceived decay, While resignation gently slopes the way; And, all his prospects brightening to the last, His heaven commences ere the world be past! Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close ΙΙΟ 140 And still where many a garden flower grows wild; Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power, 145 165 Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, And e'en his failings leaned to Virtue's side; But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all; And, as a bird each fond endearment tries To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. 170 Beside the bed where parting life was laid, And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed, The reverend champion stood. At his control Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, And his last faltering accents whispered praise. At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorned the venerable place; Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray. 178 195 200 Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view; I knew him well, and every truant knew; Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face; Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee At all his jokes, for many a joke had he; Full well the busy whisper circling round Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned. Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault; The village all declared how much he knew: "Twas certain he could write, and cipher too; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, And even the story ran that he could gauge; 210 In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill, For, even tho' vanquished, he could argue still; While words of learned length and thundering sound 205 The pictures placed for ornament and use, 241 Vain transitory splendours! could not all Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall? Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart An hour's importance to the poor man's heart. Thither no more the peasant shall repair To sweet oblivion of his daily care; No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear; The host himself no longer shall be found Careful to see the mantling bliss go round; Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest, Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. 247 250 Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, These simple blessings of the lowly train; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art. Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play, 255 The soul adopts, and owns their first born sway; Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined. But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, The toiling pleasure sickens into pain; And, e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy, The heart distrusting asks if this be joy. 261 264 268 Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey The rich man's joy increase, the poor's decay, 'Tis yours to judge, how wide the limits stand Between a splendid and an happy land. Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, And shouting Folly hails them from her shore; Hoards e'en beyond the miser's wish abound, And rich men flock from all the world around. Yet count our gains! This wealth is but a name That leaves our useful products still the same. Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride Takes up a space that many poor supplied; 276 Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds: The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth Has robbed the neighbouring fields of half their growth; 280 His seat, where solitary sports are seen, In barren splendour feebly waits the fall. As some fair female unadorned and plain, Secure to please while youth confirms her reign, Slights every borrowed charm that dress supplies, Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes; 290 But when those charms are past, for charms are frail, 295 When time advances, and when lovers fail, Where then, ah! where, shall poverty reside, If to the city sped - what waits him there? 310 Do thy fair tribes participate her pain? Far different there from all that charm'd before 350 Where the dark scorpion gathers death around; Good Heaven! what sorrows gloom'd that parting day, That called them from their native walks away; When the poor exiles, every pleasure past, 365 Hung round the bowers, and fondly looked their last, 371 375 And took a long farewell, and wished in vain O luxury! thou curst by Heaven's decree, 385 Let us lament, in sorrow sore; 409 For Kent Street well may say, That, had she lived a twelvemonth more She had not died to-day. 28 SONG 415 And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, ELEGY ON MADAM BLAIZE Good people all, with one accord, Who never wanted a good word From those who spoke her praise. The needy seldom passed her door, 420 426 430 4 8 When lovely woman stoops to folly, The only art her guilt to cover, FROM THE RETALIATION At a dinner so various, at such a repast, Who'd not be a glutton, and stick to the last? Here, waiter, more wine, let me sit while I'm able, Till all my companions sink under the table; 20 If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt, That Slyboots was cursedly cunning to hide them. |