Would spare, that loves them, offices like these?) Well they reward the toil. The fight is pleas'd, The scent regal'd, each odorif'rous leaf, Each op'ning blossom, freely breathes abroad Its gratitude, and thanks him with its sweets.
So manifold, all pleasing in their kind, All healthful, are th' employs of rural life, Reiterated as the wheel of time Runs round; still ending, and beginning still. Nor are these all. To deck the shapely knoll, That, foftly fwell'd and gaily dress'd, appears A flow'ry island, from the dark green lawn Emerging, must be deem'd a labour due To no mean hand, and asks the touch of tafte. Here also grateful mixture of well-match'd And forted hues (each giving each relief, And by contrasted beauty shining more) Is needful. Strength may wield the pond'rous spade, May turn the clod, and wheel the compoft home;
But elegance, chief grace the garden shows,
And most attractive, is the fair result
Of thought, the creature of a polish'd mind.
Without it all is gothic as the scene
To which th' infipid citizen reforts
Near yonder heath; where industry mispent, But proud of his uncouth ill-chosen task,
Has made a heav'n on earth; with funs and moons Of close-ramm'd ftones has charg'd th' encumber'd foil, And fairly laid the zodiac in the duft.
He, therefore, who would see his flow'rs dispos'd Sightly and in just order, ere he gives
The beds the trusted treasure of their feeds, Forecafts the future whole; that, when the scene Shall break into its preconceiv'd display, Each for itself, and all as with one voice Confpiring, may atteft his bright design. Nor even then, dismissing as perform'd His pleafant work, may he suppose it done. Few felf-fupported flow'rs endure the wind
Uninjur'd, but expect th' upholding aid Of the smooth-fhaven prop, and, neatly tied,
Are wedded thus, like beauty to old age, For int'reft fake, the living to the dead.
Some clothe the foil that feeds them, far diffus'd And lowly creeping, modest and yet fair, Like virtue, thriving most where little seen: Some, more afpiring, catch the neighbour shrub
With clafping tendrils, and invest his branch,
Elfe unadorn'd, with many a gay feftoon
And fragrant chaplet, recompenfing well
The strength they borrow with the grace they lend.
All hate the rank society of weeds,
Noisome, and ever greedy to exhaust
Th' impov'rifh'd earth; an overbearing race, That, like the multitude made faction-mad, Disturb good order, and degrade true worth.
Oh, blest seclusion from a jarring world, Which he, thus occupied, enjoys! Retreat
Cannot indeed to guilty man reftore Loft innocence, or cancel follies past; But it has peace, and much secures the mind From all affaults of evil; proving still
A faithful barrier, not o'erleap'd with ease By vicious custom, raging uncontroll'd Abroad, and defolating public life. When fierce temptation, seconded within By traitor appetite, and arm'd with darts Temper'd in hell, invades the throbbing breaft, To combat may be glorious, and success Perhaps may crown us; but to fly is safe. Had I the choice of fublunary good, What could I wifi, that I poffefs not here? Health, leifure, means t' improve it, friendship, peace, No loofe or wanton, though a wand'ring, muse, And conftant occupation without care. Thus blest, I draw a picture of that bliss; Hopeless, indeed, that dissipated minds, And profligate abusers of a world
Created fair fo much in vain for them, Should feek the guiltless joys that I describe,
Allur'd by my report: but sure no lefs,
That, felf-condemn'd, they must neglect the prize, And what they will not taste must yet approve.
What we admire we praise; and, when we praise, Advance it into notice, that, its worth Acknowledg'd, others may admire it too. I therefore recommend, though at the rifk Of popular disgust, yet boldly still, The cause of piety and facred truth, And virtue, and those scenes which God ordain'd Should best secure them and promote them most; Scenes that I love, and with regret perceive Forsaken, or through folly not enjoy'd. Pure is the nymph, though lib'ral of her smiles, And chaste, though unconfin'd, whom I extol. Not as the prince in Shushan, when he call'd, Vain-glorious of her charms, his Vashti forth To grace the full pavilion. His design
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