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And still with her fweet Innocence we find,
And tender Peace, and joys without a name,
That, while they ravish, tranquillize the mind:
Nature and Art at once delight and use combin'd.
XX.

Then towns he quicken'd by mechanic arts,
And bade the fervent city glow with toil;
Bade focial Commerce raise renowned marts,
Join land to land, and marry foil to foil,
Unite the poles, and without bloody spoil
Bring home of either Ind the gorgeous ftores;
Or, should defpotic rage the world embroil,
Bade tyrants tremble on remotest shores,
While o'er the encircling deep Britannia's thunder

XXI.

The drooping Muses then he weftward call'd,
From the fam'd City* by Propontic sea,

[roars.

What time the Turk th' enfeebled Grecian thrall'd,
Thence from their cloifter'd walks he fet them free,
And brought them to another Caftalie,
Where Ifis many a famous nourfling breeds;
Or where old Cam foft-paces o'er the lea
In penfive mood, and turns his Doric reeds,
Thewhilfthisflocks at large the lonelyfhepherd feeds.
XXII.

Yet the fine arts were what he finish'd leaft.
For why they are the quinteffence of all,

⚫ Conftantinople.

The growth of labouring time, and flow increaft;
Unless, as feldom chances, it fhould fall,

That mighty patrons the coy Sifters call
Up to the fun-fhine of uncumber'd ease,

Where no rude care the mounting thought may thrall,
And where they nothing have to do but please:
Ah!gracious God!thou know'ft they ask no other fees,
XXIII.

But now,

alas! we live too late in time:

Our patrons now even grudge that little claim,
Except to fuch as fleek the foothing rhyme :
And yet, forfooth, they wear Mæcena's name,
Poor fons of puft-up Vanity, not Fame,
Unbroken fpirits, cheer! ftill, ftill remains
Th' eternal Patron, Liberty! whofe flame,
While the protects, infpires the nobleft strains,
The best, and sweetest far, are toil-created gains.

XXIV.

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When as the knight had fram'd, in Britain land,
A matchlefs form of glorious government,
In which the fovereign laws alone command,
Laws ftablifh'd by the public free confent,
Whofe majefty is to the fceptre lent;
When this great plan, with each dependant art,
Was fettled firm, and to his heart's content,
Then fought he from the toilfome scene to part,
And let life's vacant eve breathe quiet thro' the heart.

XXV.

For this he chofe a farm in Deva's vale,

Where his long allies peep'd upon the main ;
In this calm feat he drew the healthful gale;
Here mix'd the chief, the patriot, and the swain,
The happy monarch of his fylvan train ;

Here, fided by the guardians of the fold,

He walk'd his rounds, and cheer'd his bleft domain: His days, the days of unstain'd Nature, roll'd, Replete with peace and joy, like patriarchs of old. XXVI.

Witness, ye lowing Herds! who gave him milk; Witnefs, ye Flocks! whofe woolly vestments far Exceeds foft India's cotton or her filk;

Witness, with autumn charg'd, the nodding car, That homeward came beneath sweet evening's star. Or of September moons the radiance mild :

O hide thy head, abominable War!

Of crimes and ruffian idlenefs the child:

From heaven this life ysprung, from hell thy glories

XXVII.

Nor from his deep retirement banish'd was

[vild.

Th' amusing care of rural Industry:
Still, as with grateful change the seasons pass,
New scenes arife, new landscapes strike the eye,
And all th' enliven'd country beautify:

Gay plains extend where marfhes flept before;
O'er recent meads th' exulting Areamlets fly;

Dark frowning heaths grow bright with Ceres' flore,
Andwoods imbrown the fteep,orwave alongthefhore.
XXVIII.

As nearer to his farm you made approach,
He polish'd Nature with a finer hand:

Yet on her beauties durft not Art encroach;
'Tis Art's alone these beauties to expand.
In graceful dance immingled o'er the land,
Pan, Pales, Flora, and Pomona play'd:
Here, too, brisk gales the rude wild common fann'd,
An happy place; where free, and unafraid,
Amid the flowering brakes each coyer creature

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But in prime vigour what can last for ay?
That foul-enfeebling wizard Indolence,
I whilom fung, wrought in his works decay:
Spread far and wide was his curs'd influence;
Of public virtue much he dull'd the sense,
Even much of private; ate our spirit out,
And fed our rank luxurious vices: whence
The land was overlaid with many a lout!
Not, as old Fame reports, wife, generous, bold, and

XXX.

A rage of pleasure madden'd every breaft;

Down to the loweft lees the ferment ran:
To his licentious wifh each must be bleft,
With joy be fever'd, fnatch it as he can.
Thus Vice the ftandard rear'd; her arrier-ban
Volume II.

R

[ftout.

Corruption call'd, and loud fhe gave the word, "Mind, mind yourselves! why should the vulgar man, "The lacquey be more virtuous than his lord?

66

Enjoy this fpan of life! 'tis all the gods afford." XXXI.

The tidings reach'd to where, in quiet hall, The good old Knight enjoy'd well-earn'd repose. "Come, come, Sir Knight! thy children on thee call: "Come, fave us yet, ere ruin round us close! "The demon Indolence thy toils o'erthrows." On this the noble colour ftain'd his cheeks, Indignant, glowing through the whitening fnows Of venerable eld; his eye full-speaks

His ardent foul, and from his couch at once he breaks.
XXXII.

I will (he cry'd), fo help me, God! destroy
That villain Archimage.-His page then strait
He to him call'd, a fiery-footed boy,

Benempt Difpatch. "My fteed be at the gate;
"My bard attend; quick, bring the net of Fate."
This net was twisted by the Sifters three,

Which when once caft o'er harden'd wretch, too late
Repentance comes: replevy cannot be

From the strong iron grasp of vengeful Defliny.
XXXIII.

He came, the bard, a little Druid-wight,
Of withered afpect; but his eye was keen,
With fweetness mix'd. In ruffet brown bedight,

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