The sound shall run along the winding vales, And thou enjoy an Eden ere it fails. Ye groves, (the statesman at his desk exclaims, 365 Sick of a thousand disappointed aims,) My patrimonial treasure and my pride, Beneath your shades your gray possessor hide, The servant of the publick never knows. 370 Ye saw me once, (ah those regretted days, When boyish innocence was all my praise !) To studies then familiar, since forgot, And cultivate a taste for ancient song, 375 Nor seldom, as propitious Heav'n might send, His undissembling virtue to my breast; 380 Receive me now, not uncorrupt as then, Nor guiltless of corrupting other men, But vers'd in arts, that while they seem to stay A falling empire, hasten its decay, To the fair haven of my native home, 385 The wreck of what I was, fatigued I come; For once I can approve the patriot's voice, And make the course he recommends my choice: We meet at last in one sincere desire, His wish and mine both prompt me to retiro. 390 Tis done-he steps into the welcome chaise, That whirl away from business and debate The disencumber'd Atlas of the state. Ask not the boy, who, when the breeze of morn 395 First shakes the glitt'ring drops from ev'ry thorn, Unfolds his flock, then under bank or bush Sits linking cherry stones, or platting rush, How fair is freedom!-he was always free · To carve his rustick name upon a tree, 400 To snare the mole, or with ill-fashion'd hoog 405 The good we never miss we rarely prize : 410 The tongue, whose strains were cogent as commands, Rever'd at home, and felt in foreign lands, Shall own itself a stamm'rer in that cause, Or plead its silence as its best applause. He knows, indeed, that, whether dress'd or rude, 415 Her hedge-row shrubs, a variegated store, With woodbine, and wild roses inantled o'er, 420 Green balks and furrow'd lands, the stream, that spreads Its cooling vapour o'er the dewy meads, Downs, that almost escape th' inquiring eye, That melt and fade into the distant sky, 425 430 435 He chooses company, but not the squire's, 440 445 450 455 Or half so clear, as in the rural scene. Yet how fallacious is all earthly bliss, What obvious truths the wisest heads may miss Some pleasures live a month, and some a year, 460 That does not charm the more for being new. 465 470 He chides the tardiness of ev'ry post, Pants to be told of battles won or lost, Flies to the levee, and, receiv'd with grace, 475 480 That dread th' encroachment of our growing streets, Tight boxes neatly sash'd, and in a blaze With all a July sun's collected rays, Delight the citizen, who, gasping there, 485 Breathes clouds of dust, and calls it country air. O sweet retirement, who would balk the thought 490 The man of business and his friends compress'd, 495 Forget their labours, and yet find no rest; But still 'tis rural-trees are to be seen From ev'ry window, and the fields are green : Who cannot much, rejoice in what he can ; 505 510 From all his wearisome engagements freed, Shakes hands with business, and retires indeed. Your prudent grandmammas, ye modern belles, 515 Content with Bristol, Bath, and Tunbridge wells, When health requir'd it would consent to roam, Else more attach'd to pleasures found at home. 520 But now alike, gay widow, virgin, wife, 525 That shines and rests as infants smile and sleep; The breathings of the lightest air that blows; 530 The rising waves obey th' increasing blast, Abrupt and herrid as the tempest roars, Till he that rides the wairlwind, checks the rein, 535 Nereids or Dryads, as the fashion leads, Now in the floods, now panting in the meads, Vot'ries of pleasure still, where'er she dwells, Near barren rocks, in palaces, or cells, 540 O grant a poct leave to recommend, (A poet fond of Nature, and your friend,) Her slighted works to your admiring view; Her works must needs excel, who fashion'd you. 545 To waste unheard the musick of his strains, That, while it courts, affronts and does you wrong, 550 |