Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave,
And thanks his gods for all the good they gave,
Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam;
His first, best country ever is at home.
And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare,
And estimate the blessings which they share,
Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find
An equal portion dealt to all mankind;
As different good, by art or nature given,
To different nations, make their blessings even.
Nature, a mother kind alike to all,
Still grants her bliss at labour's earnest call;
With food as well the peasant is supply'd
On Idra's cliffs, as Arno's shelvy side!
And though the rocky crested summits frown,
These rocks by custom turn to beds of down.
From art more various are the blessings sent;
Wealth, commerce, honour, liberty, content,
Yet these each other's power so strong contest,
That either seems destructive of the rest.
*Though there is but one true and living God, yet not only the children of Africa, but many others, have been, and some still continue so enveloped in error, as to believe in a plurality of gods.
Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment
And honour sinks where commerce long prevails,
Hence ev'ry state, to one lov'd blessing prone,
Conforms and models life to that alone.
Each to the fav'rite happiness attends,
And spurns the plan that aims at other ends;
Till carried to excess in each domain,
This fav'rite good begets peculiar pain.
But let us try those truths with closer eyes,
And trace them through the prospect as it lies:
Here, for a while, my proper cares resign'd,
Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind;
Like yon neglected shrub at random cast,
That shades the steep, and sighs at ev'ry blast.
Far to the right, where Appenine ascends,
Bright as the summer, Italy extends;
Its uplands sloping deck the mountain's side,
Woods over woods in gay theatric pride;
While oft some temple's mould'ring tops between,
With venerable grandeur marks the scene.
Could nature's bounty satisfy the breast, The sons of Italy were surely blest.
Whatever fruits in different climes are found,
That proudly rise or humbly court the ground;
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear,
Whose bright succession decks the varied year;
Whatever sweets salute the northern sky
With vernal leaves, that blossom but to die-
These, here disporting, own the kindred soil,
Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil;
While sea-born gales their gelid wings expand,
To winnow fragrance round the smiling land.
But small the bliss that sense alone bestows;
And sensual bliss is all the nation knows.*
In florid beauty groves and fields appear,
Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.
Contrasted faults through all his manners reign:
Though poor, luxurious; though submissive, vain:
Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue;
And e'en in penance planning sins anew.
All evils here contaminate the mind,
That opulence departed leaves behind;
For wealth was theirs, not far removed the date,
When commerce proudly flourish'd thro' the state,
At her command the palace learn'd to rise,
Again the long fallen column sought the skies;
The canvass glow'd beyond e'en nature warm;
The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form :
Till, more unsteady than the southern gale,
Commerce on other shores display'd her sail;
While nought remain'd of all that riches gave,
But towns unmann'd, and lords without a slave:
* Although too true as a nation, yet it is hoped many Individuals have a better idea of bliss.
And late the nation found, with fruitless skill,
Its former strength was but plethoric ill.
Yet still the loss of wealth is here supply'd By arts, the splendid wrecks of former pride; From these the feeble heart and long fallen mind An easy compensation seem to find.
Here may be seen, in bloodless pomp array'd
The pasteboard triumph and the cavalcade :
Processions form'd for piety and love,
A mistress or a saint in ev'ry grove.
By sports like these are all their cares beguil❜d;
The sports of children satisfy the child :
Each nobler aim, represt by long control,
Now sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul ;
While low delights, succeeding fast behind,'
In happier meanness occupy the mind:
As in those domes, where Cæsar's once bore sway,
Defac'd by time, and tott'ring in decay,
There in the ruin, heedless of the dead,
The shelter seeking peasant builds his shed;
And, wondering man could want the larger pile, Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.
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