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At night returning, ev'ry labour fped,
He fits him down the monarch of a fhed;
Smiles by his chearful fire, and round furveys.
His childrens looks, that brighten at the blaze;
While his lov'd partner, boaftful of her hoard,
Difplays her cleanly platter on the board :
And haply too fome pilgrim, thither led,
With many a tale repays the nightly bed.

Thus ev'ry good his native wilds impart, Imprints the patriot paffion on his heart, And ev'n thofe hills, that round his manfion rife, Enhance the blifs his fcanty fund fupplies.

Dear is that fhed to which his foul conforms,

And dear that hill which lifts him to the ftorms;
And as a child, when fearing founds moleft,
Clings clofe and clofer to the mother's breast,
So the loud torrent and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more.

Such are the charms to barren ftates affign'd; Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd. Yet let them only fhare the praifes due, If few their wants, their pleasures are but few ; For ev'ry want that ftimulates the breast, Becomes a fource of pleafure when redreft. Whence from fuch lands each pleafing science flies, That first excites defire, and then fupplies; Unknown to them, when fenfual pleasures cloy, To fill the languid paufe with finer joy; Unknown thofe pow'rs that raife the foul to flame, Catch ev'ry nerve, and vibrate through the frame. Their level life is but a mould'ring fire, Unquench'd by want, unfann'd by trong defire; Unfit for raptures, or, if raptures cheer On fome high feftival of once a year, In wild excefs the vulgar breaft takes fire,` Till buried in debauch, the blifs expire.


But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow: Their morals, like their pleafures, are but low, For, as refinement flops, from fire to fon, Unalter'd, unimprov'd their manners run, And love's and friendship's finely pointed dart Falls blunted from each indurated heart. Some fterner virtues o'er the mountain's breaft May fit, like falcons cow'ring on the neft; But all the gentler morals, fuch as play Through life's more cultur'd walks, and charm the way, Thefe far difpers'd on timorous pinions fly, To fport and flutter in a kinder sky.

To kinder fkies, where gentler manners reign, I turn; and France difplays her bright domain. Gay sprightly land of mirth and focial eafe, Pleas d with thyfelf, whom all the world can pleafe, How often have I led thy fportive choir, With tunelefs pipe, befide the murmuring Loire? Where fhading elms along the margin grew, And frefhen'd from the wave the zephyr flew ; And haply, though my harsh touch falt'ring ftill, But mock'd all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill; Yet would the village praise my wond'rous pow'r, And dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour. Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze, And the gay grandfire skill'd in geftic lore, Has frifk'd beneath the burthen of threescore.

So bleft a life thefe thoughtlefs realms difplay,
Thus idly bufy rolls their world away:
Theirs are thofe arts that mind to mind endear,
For honour forms the focial temper here.
Honour, that praife which real merit gains,
Or ev'n imaginary worth obtains,
Here paffes current; paid from hand to hand,
It fhifts in fplendid traffic round the land;


From courts, to camps, to cottages it trays,
And all are taught an avarice of praise ;
They pleafe, are pleas'd they give to get elleem,
Till, feeming bleft, they grow to what they feem.

But while this fofter art their blifs fupplics, It gives their follies alfo room to rife ; For praife too dearly lov'd, or warmly fought, Enfeebles all internal ftrength of thought. And the weak foul, within itself unbleft, Leans for all pleasure on another's breast. Hence oftentation here, with tawdry art, Pants for the vulgar praife which fools impart ; Here vanity affumes her pert grimace, And trims her robes of frize with copper lace; Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer, To boaft one fplendid banquet once a year; The mind ftill turns where fhifting fashion draws, Nor weighs the folid worth of self applaufe.


To men of other minds my fancy flies,
Embofom'd in the deep where Holland lies.
Methinks her patient fons before me ftand,
Where the broad ocean leans against the land,
And, fedulous to ftop the coming tide,
Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride.
Onward me thinks, and diligently flow
The firm connected bulwark feems to go;
Spreads its long arms amidst the watry roar,
Scoops out an empire, and ufurps the fhore.
While the pent ocean rifing o'er the pile,
Sees an amphibious world beneath him fmile;
The flow canal, the yellow bloffom'd vale,
The willow tufted bank, the gliding fail,
The crowded mart, the cultivated plain,
A new creation refcu'd from his reign.

Thus while around the wave-fubjected foil Impels the native to repeated toil,


Induftrious habits in each bofom reign,
And industry begets a love of gain.
Hence all the good from opulence that springs,
With all thofe ills fuperfluous treasure brings,

Are here difplay'd. Their much-lov'd wealth imparts
Convenience, plenty, elegance and arts;

But view them clofer, craft and fraud appear,
Ev'n liberty itself is barter'd here.
At gold's fuperior charms all freedom flies,
The needy fell it, and the rich man buys:
A land of Tyrant's and a den of flaves,
Here wretches feek difhonourable graves,
And calmly bent, to fervitude conform,
Dull as their lakes that flumber in the ftorm.


Heav'ns! how unlike their Belgic fires of old Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold; War in each breaft, and freedom on each brow; How much unlike the fons of Britain now!

Fir'd at the found my genius fpreads her wing,
And flies where Britain courts the western fpring;.
Where lawns extend that fcorn Arcadian pride,
And brighter ftreams than fam'd Hydafpes glide,
There all around the gentleft breezes ftray,
There gentleft mufic melts on ev'ry fpray;
Creation's mildest charms are there combin'd,
Extremes are only in the master's mind!
Stern o'er each bofom reafon holds her flate
With daring aims irregularly great,
Pride in their port defiance in their eye,
I fee the lords of human kind pass by,
Intent on high defigns, a thoughtful band,
By forms unfashion'd fresh from Nature's hand;
Fierce in their native hardiness of foul,
True to imagin'd right, above controul,
While ev'n the peafant boafts thefe rights to fcan,
And learns to venerate himself as man.

Thine, Freedom, thine the bleffings pictur'd here, Thine are thofe charms that dazzle and endear; Too bleft indeed, were fuch without alloy, But fofter'd ev'n by Freedom ills annoy, That independance Britons prize too high, Keeps man from man, and breaks the focial tie; The felf-dependant lordlings ftand alone, All claims that bind and fweeten life unknown; Here by the bonds of nature feebly held, Minds combat minds, repelling and repell'd. Ferments arife, imprifon'd factions roar, Repreft ambition ftruggles round her fhore, Till over-wrought, the general fyftem feels Its motions ftop, or phrenzy fires the wheels.

Nor this the worst. As nature's ties decay, As duty, love, and honour fail to fway, Fictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law, Still gather ftrength, and force unwilling awe. Hence all obedience bows to these alone, And talents fink, and merit weeps unknown; Till time may come when fript of all her charms, The land of fcholars, and the nurse of arms, Where noble ftems tranfmit the patriot flame, Where kings have toil'd, and poets wrought for fame, One fink of level avarice fhall lie,

And scholars, foldiers, kings, unhonour'd die.


Yet think not. thus when Freedom's ills I ftate,
mean to flatter kings, or court the great;
Ye powr's of truth that bid my foul afpire,
Far from my bofom drive the low defire;
And thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel;
The rabble's rage, and tyrant's angry
Thou tranfitory flow'r alike undone
By proud contempt, or favour's foft'ring fun,
Still may thy blooms the changeful clime endure,
I only would reprefs them to fecure :

For juft experience tells, in ev'ry foil,

That thofe who think muft govern those that toil:

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