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Draws a few hundreds from the stocks,
And purchases his country-box.
Some three or four miles out of town,
(An hour's ride will bring you down,)
He fixes on his choice abode,
Not half a furlong from the road:
And fo convenient does it lay,
The stages pass it ev'ry day:
And then to fnug, fo mighty pretty,
To have a house fo near the city!
Take but your places at the Boar,
You're fet down at the very

Well, then, suppofe them fix'd at last,
White-washing, painting, scrubbing past,
Hugging themselves in ease and clover,
With all the fuss of moving over;
Lo! a new heap of whims are bred,
And wanton in my lady's head.

Well, to be sure it must be own’d,
It is a charming spot of ground;
So sweet a distance for a ride,
And all about fo countrified!
"Twould come but to a trifling price
To inake it quite a paradise.
I cannot bear those nafiy rails,
Those ugly broken mouldy pales:
Suppose, my dear, instead of these,
We build a railing, all Chinese:
Although one hates to be expos’d;
Tis dismal to be thus enclos'd;
One hardly any object fees-
I with you'd fell those odious trees.
Objects continual pasting by
Were fomething to amuse the

But to be pent within the walls-
One might as well be at St. Paul's.
Our house, beholders would adore,
Was there a level lawn before,
Nothing its views to incominode,
But quite laid open to the road!

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While ev'ry trav’ller in amaze,
Should on our little manfion gaze,
And pointing to the choice retreat,
Cry, that's Sir Thrifty's country feat.
No doubt her arguments prevail,
For Madam's TASTE can never fail.

Bleft age! when all men may procure,
The title of a connoisseur;
When noble and ignoble herd,
Are govern’d by a fingle word;
Though, like the royal German dames,
It bears an hundred christian names;
As genius, fancy, judgment, got,
Whim, caprice, -ne-scai-quoi, virtù ;
Which appellations all describe
Taste, and the modern tafteful tribe.

Now, bricklay’rs, carpenters, and joiners,
With Chinefe artists, and designers,
Produce their schemes of alteration,
To work this wond’rous reformation.
The useful dome, which secret flood,
Embofom'd in the yew-tree's wood,
The trav’ller with amazement fees
A temple, Gothic, or Chinese,
With many a bell, and tawdry rag on,
And crefied with a sprawling dragon;
A wooden arch is bent aftride
A ditch of water, four feet wide,
With angles, curves, and zigzag lines,
From Halfpenny's exact designs.
In front, a level lawn is feen,
Without a shrub


green, Where taste would want its first great law, But for the fkulking, fly ha-ha, By whose miraculous alfifiance, You gain a prospect two-fields difiance. And now from Hyde-Park corner come 'I he gods of Athens and of Rome. liere squabby Cupids take their places, With Venus, and the clumsy Graces;


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Apollo there, with aim so clever,
Stretches his leaden bow for ever;
And there, without the pow'r to fly,
Stands fix’d, a tip-toe Mercury.

The villa thus completely grac’d,
All own that Thrifiy has a tatte;
And Madam's female friends, and coufins,
With common-council-men, by dozens,
Flock every Sunday to the feat,
To stare about them, and to eat.

PARENT of joy! heart-easing Mirth!

Whether of Venus or Aurora born;
Yet goddess fure of heavenly birth,
Visit benign a son of grief forlorn:

Thy glittering colours gay,
Around him Mirth display:
And o'er his raptur'd sense

Diifuse thy living influence:
So shall each hill in purer green array'd,
And flower adorn'd in new-born beauty glow.

The grove shall smooth the horrors of the Thade,
And streams in murmurs Mall forget to flow.
Shine, goddess, shine with unremitted ray,
And gild (a second fun) with brighter beam our

Labour with thee forgets his pain,
And aged poverty can I'mile with thee,

If thou be nigh, grief's hate is vain,
And weak th' uplifted arm of tyranny.

The morning opes on high
His universal eye;
-And on the world doth pour

His glories in a golden shower,
Lo! darkness trembling 'fore the hostile ray
Shrinks to the cavern deep and wood forlorn:

The brood obscene, that own her gloomy fway,
Troop in her rear and fly th' approach of morn.

Pale fhirering ghofis, that dread th' all-cheerivg

light, Quick, as the lightnings flash, glide to fepulchral

But whence the gladdening beam

pours bis purple stream
O’er the long prospect wide?
'Tis MIRTH. I see her fit
In majesty of light,

With laughter at her fide.
Bright-ey'd FANCY hovering near,
Vi ide waves her glancing wing in air;
And young wit tings his pointed dart,
That guiltlets firikes the villing heart.

Fear not now aftliction's power,
Fear not now wild passion's rage,

Nor sear ye aught in evil hour, Save the tardy hand of age. Now MIRTH hath heard the fuppliant poet's prayer, Nocloud that rides the blast thall vex the troubled air.


BESIDE yon ftraggling fence that skirts the way,

With bloffom'd furze, unprofitably gay,
There, in his noisy manfion, skill'd to rule,
The village master taught his little school;
A man levere he was, and ftern to view,
I knew him well, and every truant knew;
Well had the boxing tremblers learn’d to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face,
Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;
Full well the busy whilper circling round,
(onvey'd the ditmal tidings when he frown'd;
Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in, fault;

The village all declar'd how much he knew;
'Twas certain he could write, and cypher too;
Lands he could measure, terms and tides prelage,
And even the story ran that he could guage:
In arguing too, the parfon own'd his skill,
For even though vanquish'd he could argue ftill;
While words of learned length, and thund ring found,
Amaz'd the gazing ruftics rang’d around,
And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew,
That one small head could carry all he knew.

But past is all his fame.-The very spot,
Where many a time he triumph’d; is forgot.


STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING. SURE 'twas by providence design’d,

Rather in pity than in hate, That he should be like Cupid blind,

To save him from Narcissus' fate.

SWEETNESS. OF damask cheeks, and radiant eyes,

Let other poets tell;
Within the botom of the fair

Superior beauties dwell.
There all the sprightly pow'rs of wit

In blythe assemblage play;
There ev'ry social virtue lheds

Its intellectual ray.
But as the sun's refulgent light

Heav’n’s wide expanse retines;
With fov’reign lustre through the soul

Celestial sweetness thines.

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