SOAME JENYNS, ESQ.
IN THE COUNTRY,
In days, my Lord, when mother Time,
Though now grown old, was in her prime,
When SATURN first began to rule,
And JOVE was hardly come from school,
How happy was a country life!
How free from wickedness and strife!
Then each man liv'd upon his farm,
And thought and did no mortal harm;
On mossy banks fair virgins slept,
As harmless as the flocks they kept;
Then love was all they had to do,
And nymphs were chaste, and swains were true.
But now, whatever poets write,
'Tis sure the case is alter'd quite,
Virtue no more in rural plains,
Or innocence, or peace remains;
But vice is in the cottage found,
And country girls are oft unsound:
Fierce party-rage each village fires,
With wars of justices and 'squires : 24
Attorneys, for a barley-straw,
Whole ages hamper folks in law :
And every neighbour's in a flame
About their rates, or tythes, or game :
Some quarrel for their hares and pigeons,
And some for diff'rence in religions:
Some hold their parson the best preacher,
The tinker some a better teacher;
These, to the Church they fight for, strangers,
Have faith in nothing, but her dangers; 36
While those, a more believing people,
Can swallow all things-but a steeple.
But I, my Lord, who, as you know,
Care little how these matters go,
And equally detest the strife
And usual joys of country life,
Have by good fortune little share
Of its diversions, or its care;
For seldom I with 'squires unite,
Who hunt all day, and drink all night
Nor reckon wonderful inviting,
A quarter-sessions, or cock-fighting:
But then no farm I occupy,
With sheep to rot and cows to die :
Nor rage I much, or much despair,
Though in my hedge I find a snare;
Nor view I, with due admiration,
All the high honors here in fashion ;
The great commissions of the quorum,
Terrors to all who come before 'em ;
Militia scarlet, edg'd with gold,
Or the white staff high-sheriffs hold;
The representative's caressing,
The judge's bow, the bishop's blessing.
Nor can I for my soul delight
In the dull feast of neighb'ring knight,
send three days before,
In white gloves meets you at the door,
With superfluity of breeding
First makes you sick, and then with feeding.
Or if with ceremony cloy'd,
You would next time such plagues avoid,
And visit without previous notice,
JOHN, JOHN, a coach !—I can't think who 'tis, My lady cries, who spies your coach,
Ere you the avenue approach;
Lord, how unlucky!-washing-day!
And all the men are in the hay!
Entrance to gain is something hard,
The dogs all bark, the gates are barr'd;
The yard 's with lines of linen cross'd,
The hall-door's lock'd, the key is lost :
These difficulties all o'ercome,
We reach at length the drawing-room,
Then there's such trampling over-head,
Madam you'd swear was brought to-bed;
Miss in a hurry bursts the lock,
To get clean sleeves to hide her smock;
The servants run, the pewter clatters;
My lady dresses, calls, and chatters;
The cook-maid raves for want of butter,
Pigs squeak, fowls scream, and green geese flutter.
Now after three hours tedious waiting,
On all our neighbours faults debating,
And having nine times view'd the garden,
In which there's nothing worth a farthing,
In comes my lady and the pudden :
You will excuse, sir,-on a sudden-
Then, that we may have four and four,
The bacon, fowls, and colli-flow'r - ༡༠
Their ancient unity divide,
The top one graces, one each side;
And by and by the second course
Comes lagging like a distanc’d horse ;
A salver then to church and king,
The butler sweats, the glasses ring;
The cloth remov'd, the toasts go round,
Bawdy and politics abound;
And as the knight more tipsy waxes,
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