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The modeft maiden rises from her wheel,
Who, unperceiv'd, a filent look would Iteal ;
Call’d, the attends, assists with artless grace,
The bloom of nature flushing on her face,
That scorns the dye which pallid pride can lend,
And all the arts which luxury attend.
With fuel laden from the brambly rock,
Lo! forward comes the father of his flock,
Of honeft frontfalutes with rustick gait,
Remarks our fare, and boasts his former state,
When many a cow, nor long the time remov'd,
And many a calf his spacious pasture rov'd,
Till rising rents reduc'd them now to three,
Abridg'd his farm, and fix'd him as we see:
Yet thanks his God, what fails him in his wealth,
He seeks from labour, and he gains from health.
Then talks of sport; how many wild-ducks seen!
What flocks of widgeon, too, had fledg'd the green !
Till ev'ry prentice dar'd the city shun,
Range the wide field, and lift the level gun.
While thus amus'd, and gladden'd with our lot,
The hafty ev’ning calls us from the cot;
A small gratuity dilates their heart,
And many a blessing follows as we part.
Nor you, ye proud! disdain their state to hear,
The state of nature crowns their frugal cheer ;
Transmitted pure from patriarchal times,
By art unfashion'd to corruption's climes-
To you unknown their labours and their race,
Alike unknown their innocence and peace :
Secure from danger, as removid from fame,
Their lives calm current flows without a name.
With limbs refresh'd, with lively tales and gay,
We homeward hafte, and guile the tedious way ;
Each object view in wintry dress around,
eye the dogs that wanton o'er the ground;
The penfive red-breast on the leafless bough,
And just beneath, the fragrance-breathing cow;
While still more grateful, with her cleanly pail,
The ruddy milk-maid hears a tender tale
From the lov'd swain, who swells th' alternate figh,
Leans on his staff, and lures her side-long eye,
With artless guise, his passion to impart,
With looks that speak the language of his heart-
Her's was the sweetness of the milk she press’d,
And his the fervour of the sweets caress'd :
A Daphne she, with rural grace attir’d,
A Damon he, with faithful love inspir’d.
Thrice happy pair! whom guiltless joys adorn,
Pure as the eve, and constant as the morn;
No pride-born cares, to frustrate or controul
Your mutual vows responfive to the soul,
Till sacred Hymen binds the nuptial band,
And blends your lives, a blessing to the land!
Hence Contemplation lifts the internal eye,
Fix'd on the love of Providence on high,
That still impartial thro' the world extends
In bounteous bleflings vary'd to their ends ;
From the rich Urkain to Siberia's snow,
Adapted sweets in ev'ry climate grow ;
The rude Tongusian, quiver'd for the chace,
Feels joys unknown to Persia's splendid race;
Thro' wilds immense pursues the favage brood,
At once his pride, his raiment, and his food;
No diff'rence proves, but what from fancy springs,
'Twixt tented Tartars, and empalac'd kings.
But foon the visionary scene withdraws,
And active sports solicit new applause,
For yonder come-yet distant to the eye,
The vagrant plover wafted thro' the sky;
Swift to the hedge, on diff'rent fides we run,
That skirt the copfe, and hide the deadly gun;
Onward they move, regardless of their state,
A single guide conducts them to their fate;
The sudden thunder bursts upon their head,
The foremost fall, and all the rest are Aed.
Thus, where it's forests Niagara spreads,
And wild Oswego all it's horror sheds,
The sons of Britain march'd in vent'rous pride,
No foe to front them, and no caution guide,
Till ev'ry tree with hidden rage confpires,
And ev'ry shrub emits destructive fires.
What could they do; or where the vengeance fly?
They wheel- they drop-and all or run or die:
The gun, relentless, no compassion shews,
And no respect of diff'rent objects knows;
Alike regardless, when it's fury's stirr'd,
Of man or beafta Braddock, or a bird.
But while I thus it's dire effects attend,
'Tis man alone must answer for the end.
The gun, like riches, claims no genuine use,
But just as rul'd, will good or bad produce ;
Whether it rolls the raging tide of war,
Or only frights the tenants of the air ;
For empire levell'd, or for health carefs'd,
The motive, not the mean, is curs’d or bless'd.
Now had the twilight, veil'd in gloomy grey,
Mourn'd the departure of retiring day;
A darker hue the face of nature wears,
And scarce distinct the distant town appears-
Back to our mind, in swift succession throng,
(To cheat the time and steal the road along)
The various sports of all the summer past,
When ling’ring, long-vacation, came at last;
Imagination fondly sports to tell,
How many grouse ! how many partridge fell!
And quick transports me, gladden'd as I go,
Where the proud Gaulties * lift their awful brow.
Oft did I there with lively spirits run,
Mount on their back to meet the rising fun;
When toiling, panting, labour-spent, and slow,
I stopp'd to breathe--and view'd the plains below:
And thee, dear village +! loveliest of the clime,
(Pain would I name thee, but I can't in rhyme)
Where first my years in youthful pleasures pafs'd,
And where in age I hope to die at last;
Fain would I dwell upon thy native charms,
Thy verdant hills and cultivated farms
But sudden rouz’d, I see the pointers wind,
My brother sportsmen pressing close behind;
The grumbling heath-cock feels an instant wound,
Adown he falls, and whirs against the ground
Again, methinks I see the service spread,
The cold provisions on the cakes of bread I,
The mountain stream, of babbling accents nigh,
My couch the heath, my canopy the sky:
Æneas-like, I eagerly devour
The plates themselves the quarter'd cakes of four;
Like him arise new conquests to pursue,
Then end my toil, and tell of all I knew,
So at the close of toilsome, hardy life,
The vet'ran Soldier brags of glorious strife ;
What dangers past, what cities he had seen,
What battles fought, when thousands strew'd the green;
* A range of mountains in the county of Tipperary. + Tipperary.
Adorea liba per herbam Subjiciunt epulis, &c.
Vir. Æn. vii. rid ! - Malisq. audacibus orbem
Fatalis crufti, patulis nec parcere quadris ;
Heus? ctiam Menfas confonimus inquit fülas. Vir. Æn. vii. 11Q.
Till fancy-warm’d he seems to fight them o'er,
And tir'd at last, he braves and boasts no more.
Bless'd with the view of Stephen's Green at laft,
Amusive fancy paints it's pleasures paft ;
Where shady walks entice the noon-tide gale,
And whisp'ring lovers softly-fighing tale ;
The ogling belle, the pert and powder'd beau,
And dame delighted pretty Miss to thew;
The trader trim, that struts with vacant air
To catch the breeze, or captivate the fair-
But now no more Florillus glads the green,
Lucinda's gone, and desolate's the scene.
'The rising moon, with delegated sway,
Supplies the radiance of the distant day,
Reveals the various objects that we meet,
And all the busy tumults of the street :
With headlong pace the vagrant hawker scours,
And bloody news from lungs horrifick pours ;
The dull, discordant ballad-notes annoy,
That mock the crowd with Love's fantastick joy ;
The cumb’rous coach, with blazon'd pomp, that shews
Where pamper'd pride, and indolence repose ;
While close behind, the fhiv'ring female strays,
Parted from virtue, innocence, and ease.
She, once the darling of her mother's arms,
Her father's pride, and bless’d with blooming charms,
Thro' all the village known for spotless fame;
Fair was her beauty, fairer still her name:
Till the fly tempter urg'd infidious suit,
And lur'd her weakness to forbidden fruit.
There perish'd grace, her guardian honour fled,
And fad remembrance mourns each blessing-dead!
Expell’d the paradise of native sway,
She wanders now to ev'ry vice á prey-
A prey to yonder terror of the night,
(Avert, ye gods ! such monfters from my fight!)