Eternal bleffings crown my earliest friend,
And round his dwelling guardian faints attend;
Bleft be that spot, where chearful guests retire
To paufe from toil, and trim their ev'ning fire;
Bleft that abode, where want and pain repair,
And ev'ry ftranger finds a ready chair.
Bleft be thofe feafts with fimple plenty crown'd,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail,
Or figh with pity at fome mournful tale,
Or prefs the bafhful ftranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good.

But me, not deftin'd fuch delights to share, My prime of life in wand'ring spent and care : Impell'd, with fteps unceasing, to pursue Some flceting good, that mocks me with the view; That, like the circle bounding earth and skies; Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies; My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, And find no spot of all the world my own.

Ev'n now, where Alpine folitudes afcend, I fit me down a penfive hour to spend ; And, plac'd on high above the ftorm's career, Look downward, where an hundred realms appear; Lakes, forefts, cities, plains extending wide, The pomp of kings, the fhepherd's humble pride.

When thus Creation's charms around combine, Amidst the fore, fhould thanklefs pride repine? Say, fhould the philofophic mind difdain That good, which makes each humbler bofom vain ? Let fchool-taught pride diffemble all it can, Thefe little things are great to little man ; And wifer he, whose sympathetic mind Exults in all the good of all mankind.

Ye glitt'ring towns with wealth and fplendor crown'd Ye fields where fummer fpreads profufion round.

Ye lakes, whofe veffels catch the bufy gale,
Ye bending fwains, that drefs the flow'ry vale,
For me your tributary ftores combine;
Creation's heir, the world, the world is mine.

As fome lone mifer vifiting his ftore, Bends at his treafure, counts, recounts it o'er; Hoards after hoards his rifing raptures fill Yet ftill he fighs, for hoards are wanting ftill: Thus to my breaft alternate paffions rife, Pleas'd with each good that heav'n to man fupplies: Yet oft a figh prevails, and forrows fall, To fee the hoard of human blifs fo fmall; And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find Some fpot to real happiness confign'd, Where my worn-foul, each wand'ring hope at reft, May gather blifs to fee my fellows bleft.

But where to find that happieft fpot below,
Who can direct when all pretend to know?
The fhudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone
Boldly proclaims that happieft fpot his own,
Extols the treafures of his ftormy feas,
And his long night of revelry and eafe;
The naked negro, panting at the line,
Boafts of his golden fands and palmy wine,
Bafks in the glare, or ftems the tepid wave,
And thanks his Gods for all the good they gave.
Such is the patriot's boaft, where'er we roam,
His firft beft country ever is, at home.
And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare
And eftimate the bleffings which they fhare,
Tho' patriots flatter, ftill fhall wifdom find
An equal portion dealt to all mankind,
As different good, by art or nature given,
To different nations make their bleffings even.

Nature, a mother kind alike to all,


grants her blifs at labour's earnest call;

With food as well the peasant is fupply'd On Idra's cliffs as Arno's fhelvy fide; And though the rocky crefted fummits frown, Thefe rocks, by custom, turn to beds of down. From art more various are the bleffings fent; Wealth, commerce, honour, liberty, content. Yet these each other's pow'r fo ftrong conteft, That either féems deftructive of the reft. Where wealth and freedom reign contentment fails, And honour finks where commerce long prevails. Hence ev'ry ftate to one lov'd bleffing prone, Conforms and models life to that alone. Each to the fav'rite happiness attends, And fpurns the plan that aims at other ends; 'Till, carried to excefs in each domain, This fav'rite good begets peculiar pain.

But let us view thefe truths with clofer eyes,
And trace them through the profpect as it lies:
Here for a while my proper cares refign'd,
Here let me fit in forrow for mankind,
Like yon neglected fhrub at random caft,
That fhades the fteep, and fighs at ev'ry blast.

Far to the right where Appennine afcends, Bright as the fummer, Italy extends; Its uplands floping deck the mountain's fide, Woods over woods in gay theatric pride; While oft fome temple's mould'ring top between, With venerable grandeur marks the scene.

Could nature's bounty fatisfy the breast,
The fons of Italy were furely blest.
Whatever fruits in different climes were found,
That proudly rife, or humbly court the ground;
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear,
Whofe bright fucceffion decks the varied year;
Whatever fweets falute the northern sky
With vernal lives that bloffom but to die;

Thefe bere difporting own the kindred foil,
Nor afk luxuriance from the planter's toil;
While fea-born gales their gelid wings expand
To winnow fragrance round the fmiling land.

But fmall the blifs that fenfe alone bestows, And fenfual blifs is all this nation knows. In florid beauty groves and fields appear, Man feems the only growth that dwindles here. Contrafted faults through all his manners reign, Though poor, luxurious, though fubmiffive, vain, Though grave, yet trifling, zealous, yet untrue, And ev'n in penance planning fins anew, All evils here contaminate the mind, That opulence departed leaves behind; For wealth was theirs, not far remov'd the date, When commerce proudly flourish'd through the flate; At her command the palace learn'd to rife, Again the long-fall'n column fought the fkies; The canvafs glow'd beyond e'en Nature warm, The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form. Till, more unfteady than the fouthern gale, Commerce on other shores difplay'd her fail : While nought remain'd of all that riches gave, But towns unman'd, and lords without a flave: And late the nation found with fruitlefs fkill Its former ftrength was but plethoric ill.

Yet ftill the lofs of wealth is here fupplied
By arts, the fplendid wrecks of former pride:
From thefe the feeble heart and long-fallen mind
An eafy compenfation feem to find.

Here may be feen, in bloodlefs pomp array'd,
The pafte-board triumph and the cavalcade;
Proceffions form'd for piety and love,
A miftrefs or a faint in ev'ry grove.
By fports like thefe are all their cares beguil'd,
The fports of children fatisfy the child;

Each nobler aim repreft by long controul,
Now finks at laft, or feebly mans the foul;
While low delights, fucceeding faft behind,
In happier meannefs occupy the mind:
As in thofe domes, where Cæfars once bore fway,
Defac'd by time and tott'ring in decay,
There in the ruin, heedlefs of the dead,
The fhelter-feeking peafant builds his fhed,
And, wond'ring man could want a larger pile,
Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.

My foul turn from them, turn we to furvey, Where rougher climes a nobler race difplay, Where the bleak Swifs their ftormy mansions tread, And force a churlish foil for fcanty bread: No product here the barren hills afford, But man and steel, the foldier and his fword. No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, But winter ling'ring chills the lap of May; No zephyr fondly fues the mountain's breast, But meteors glare, and ftormy glooms invest.

Yet ftill, ev'n here, content can fpread a charm, Redrefs the clime, and all its rage difarm. Though poor the peasants hut, his feasts though small, He fees his little lot the lot of all;

Sees no contiguous palace rear its head
To fhame the meannefs of his humble fhed;
No coftly lord the fumptuous banquet deal
To make him loath his vegetable meal;
But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,
Each with contracting, fits him to the soil.
Chearful at morn he wakes from short repose,
Breaths the keen air, and carols as he goes;
With patient angle trolls the finny deep,
Or drives his vent'rous plough-fhare to the steep;
Or feeks the den where fnow-tracts mark the way,
And drags the ftruggling favage into day.

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