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One fhyer ftill, whọ quite detested talk ;
Oft' ftung by spleen, at once away he broke,
To groves of pine and broad o'ershadowing oak;
There inly thrillid, he wander'd all alone,
And on himself his pensive fury wroke,
Ne ever utter'd word, save when first thone
The glittering far of eve" Thank Heaven! the day is
[done." Here lurk”d a wretch who had not crept
For forty years, no face of mortal seen:;,
In chamber brooding like a loathly toad,
And sure his linen was not very clean.
Through secret loop-holes, that had practic'd been
Near to his bed, his dinner vile he took ;
Unkempt, and rough, of squalid face and mien,
Our Castle's Shame! whence from his filthy nook,
We drove the villain out for fitter lair to look.
One day there chaunc'd into these halls to rove
A joyous youth, who took you at first fight;
Him the wild wave of pleasure hither drove,
Before the sprightly tempeft tossing light :
Certes, he was a moft engaging wight,
Of social glee, and wit humane tho'keen,
Turning the night to day and day to night ;
For him the merry bells had rung,
If in this nook of quiet bells had ever been,
Vol. VI, 23
LXIII. But not ev'n pleasure to excess is good : What most elates then finks the foul as low :When spring-tide joy pours in with copious flood, The higher still th' exulting billows flow, The farther back again they flagging go, And leave us grovelling on the dreary shore. Taught by this son of Joy, we found it so, Who, whilst he said, kept in a gay uproar Our madden'd Caslle all, the abode of Sleep no more.
As when in prime of June a burnish'd fly,
Sprung from the meads, o'er which he sweeps along,
Cheer'd by the breathing bloom and vital sky,
Tunes up amid these airy halls his song,
Soothing at first the gay repofing throng;
And oft' he fips their bowl; or, nearly drown'd,
He, thence recovering, drives their beds among,
And scares their tender sleep, with trump profound,
Then out again he flies, to wing his mazy round.
Another guest there was, of sense refin'd,
Who felt each worth, for every worth he had :
Serene, yet warm ; humane, yet firm his mind;
As little touch'd as any man's with bad :
Him thro’ their inmoft walks the Muses lad,
To him the facred love of nature lent,
And sometimes would he make our valley glad ;
When as we found he would not here be pent,
To him the better sort this friendly message sent :
66 Come, dwell with us, true fon of Virtue ! come :
“ But if, alas ! we cannot thee persuade
“ To lie content beneath our peaceful dome,
- Ne ever more to quit our quiet glade,
" Yet when at last thy toils, but ill apaid,
• Shall dead thy fire, and damp its heavenly spark,
“ Thou wilt be glad to seek the rural shade,
*** There to indulge the Muse, and Nature mark ;
“ We then a lodge for thee will rear in Hagley-Park.".
Here whilom ligg'd th’Esopus of the age,
But call'd by Fame, in soul y pricked deep,
A noble pride restor’d him to the stage,
And rous’d him like a giant from his sleep.
E'en from his slumbers we advantage reap :
With double force th' enliven'd scene he wakes,
Yet quits not Nature's bounds. He knows to keep
Each due decorum. Now. the heart he shakes,
And now with well-urg'd sense th’enlighten'd judgment
A bard here dwelt, more fat than bard beseems,
Who, void of envy, guile, and luft of gain,
On virtue ftill, and Nature's pleasing themes,
Pour'd forth his unpremeditated strain :
The world forsaking with a calm disdain,
Here laugh'd he careless in his easy feat ;
Here quaff'd, encircled with the joyous train,
Ofe’ moralizing fage ; his ditty sweet
He loathed much to write, ne cared to repeat.
Full oft' by holy feet our ground was trod,
Of clerks good plenty here you mote espy';
A little, round, fat, oily man of God,
Was one I chiefly mark'd among the fry :
He had a roguish twinkle in his eye,
And shone all glittering with ungodly dew,
If a tight domfel chaunc'd to trippe by ;
Which when obferv’d, he shrunk into his mew,
And Iraight would recolleet his piety anew.
Nor be forgot a tribe who minded naught
(Old inmates of the place) but ftate-affairs;
They look’d, perdie, as if they deeply thought,
And on their brow sat every nation's cares.
The world by them is parcellid out in shares,
When in the Hall of smoak they congress hold,
And the Sage berry fun-burnt Mocha bears
Has clear’d their inward eye: then, smoke-enrollid,
Their oracles break forth mysterious as of old.
Here languid Beauty kept her pale fac'd court :
Bevies of ancient dames, of high degree,
From every quarter hither made resort,
Where, from gross mortal care and business free,
They lay, pour'd out in case and luxury : Or
Or should they'a vain Shew of work assume,
Alas! and well-a-day! what can it be?
To knot, to twist, to range the vernal bloom,
But far is cast the diftaff, spinning-wheel, and loom..
Their only labour was to kill che time ; :
And labour dire it is, and weary woe:
They fit, they loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme,
Then, rising sudden, to the glass they go,
Or saunter forth, with tottering lep and slow : :
This soon too rude an exercise they find;
Strait on the couch their limbs again they throw,
Where hours on hours they fighing lie reclin’d,
And court the vapoury god foft-breathing in the wind, .
Now must I mark the villainy we found;.
But, ah! too late, as shall eftfoons be thewn.
A place here was, deep, dreary, underground,
Where still our inmates, when unpleasing growng,
Diseas'd, and loathsome, privily where thrown.
Far from the light of heaven, they languish'd there,
Unpity'd uttering many a bitter grown ;
For of thefe wretches taken was no care ;
Fierce fiends and hags- of hell their only nurses were.
Alas! the change! from scenes of joy and rest,
To this dark den, where Sickness tofs'd alway.
Here Lethargy, with deadly sleep oppreft,
Stretch'd on his back, a mighty lubbard, lay
Heaving his sides, and snored night and day ;