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Then saug enclosures in the shelter'd vale,
Where frequent hedges intercept the eye,
Delight us; happy to renounce awhile,
Not fenfeless of its charms, what still we love,
That fuch short absence may endear it more.
Then forefts, or the favage rock, may please,
That hides the fea-mew in his hollow clefts
Above the reach of man. His hoary head,
Confpicuous many a league, the mariner,
Bound homeward, and in hope already there,
Greets with three cheers exuting. At his waist
A girdle of half-wither'd shrubs he shows,
And at his feet the baffled billows die.
The common, overgrown with fern, and rough
With prickly gorse, that, shapeless and deform'd,
And dang'rous to the touch, has yet its bloom,
And decks itself with ornaments of gold,
Yields no unpleasing ramble; there the turf
Smells fresh, and, rich in odorif'rous herbs

And fungous fruits of earth, regales the sense

With luxury of unexpected sweets.

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There often wanders one, whom better days Saw better clad, in cloak of fatin trimm'd With lace, and hat with splendid ribband bound. A ferving maid was she, and fell in love With one who left her, went to fea, and died. Her fancy follow'd him through foaming waves To distant shores; and the would fit and weep At what a failor suffers; fancy, too, Delusive most where warmest wishes are, Would oft anticipate his glad return, And dream of transports she was not to know. She heard the doleful tidings of his deathAnd never fmil'd again! And now the roams The dreary wafte; there spends the livelong day, And there, unless when charity forbids, The livelong night. A tatter'd apron hides, Worn as a cloak, and hardly hides, a gown

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More tatter'd still; and both but ill conceal

A bosom heav'd with never-ceasing fighs.

She begs an idle pin of all she meets,
And hoards them in her fleeve; but needful food,
Though prefs'd with hunger oft, or comelier clothes,
Though pinch'd with cold, asks never.-Kate is craz'd!

I fee a column of flow rising smoke
O'ertop the lofty wood that skirts the wild.
A vagabond and useless tribe there eat
Their miferable meal. A kettle, slung
Between two poles upon a stick transverse,
Receives the morsel-flesh obscene of dog,
Or vermin, or, at best, of cock purloin'd
From his accustom'd perch. Hard-faring race!
They pick their fuel out of ev'ry hedge,
Which, kindled with dry leaves, just saves unquench'd
The fpark of life. The sportive wind blows wide
Their flutt'ring rags, and shows a tawny skin,
The vellum of the pedigree they claim.

Great skill have they in palmistry, and more
To conjure clean away the gold they touch,
Conveying worthless dross into its place;

Loud when they beg, dumb only when they steal.:
Strange! that a creature rational, and caft

In human mould, should brutalize by choice
His nature; and, though capable of arts
By which the world might profit, and himself,
Self-banish'd from society, prefer

Such squalid floth to honourable toil!

Yet even these, though, feigning fickness oft,
They swathe the forehead, drag the limping limb,
And vex their flesh with artificial fores,

Can change their whine into a mirthful note
When fafe occasion offers; and, with dance,
And music of the bladder and the bag,
Beguile their woes, and make the woods refound.
Such health and gaiety of heart enjoy
The houseless rovers of the fylvan world;

And, breathing wholesome air, and wand'ring much, Need other phyfic none to heal th' effects

Of loathsome diet, penury, and cold.

Bleft he, though undistinguish'd from the crowd

By wealth or dignity, who dwells fecure,

Where man, by nature fierce, has laid afide

His fierceness; having learnt, though flow to learn,
The manners and the arts of civil life.

His wants, indeed, are many; but fupply
Is obvious, plac'd within the easy reach
Of temp'rate wishes and industrious hands.
Here virtue thrives, as in her proper foil;
Not rude and furly, and beset with thorns,
And terrible to fight, as when she springs
(If e'er she spring spontaneous) in remote
And barb'rous climes, where violence prevails,
And strength is lord of all; but gentle, kind,
By culture tam'd, by liberty refresh'd,
And all her fruits by radiant truth matur'd.
War and the chase engross the savage whole

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