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If to fome common's fenceless limits stray'd,
He drives his flock to pick the fcanty blade,
Those fenceless fields the fons of wealth divide,
And ev'n the bare-worn common is deny'd.

If to the city fped-What waits him there?
To fee profufion that he muft not share;
To fee ten thoufand baneful arts combin'd
To pamper luxury, and thin mankind;
To fee each joy the fons of pleasure know,
Extorted from his fellow-creature's wo.
Here while the courtier glitters in brocade,
There the pale artist plies the fickly trade;


Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomps difplay,
There the black gibbet glooms befide the way.
The dome where pleasure holds her midnight reign,
Here, richly deckt, admits the gorgeous
Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square,
The rattling chariots clafh the torches glare.
Sure fcenes like these no troubles ere annoy!
Sure thefe denote one universal joy!

Are these thy ferious thoughts-Ah, turn thine eyes
Where the poor houseless shiv'ring female lies.
She once, perhaps, in village plenty bleft,
Has wept at tales of innocence diftreft;
Her modeft looks the cottage might adorn,
Sweet as the primrofe peeps beneath the thorn;
Now loft to all: her friends, her virtue fled,
Near her betrayer's door fhe lays her head,
And, pinch'd with cold and fhrinking from the show'r,
With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour,
When idly firft, ambitious of the town,

She left her wheel and robes of country brown.

Do thine fweet AUBURN, thine, the lovelieft train,
Do thy fair tribes participate her pain?
Ev'n now, perhaps by col and hunger led,
At proud men's doors they afk a little bread!


Ah no! To diftant climes, a dreary scene,
Where half the convex world intrudes between,
Through torrid tracts with fainting fteps they go,.
Where wild Altama murmurs to their wo.
Far different there from all that charm'd before,
The various terrors of that horrid shore ;
Thofe blazing funs that dart a downward ray,
And fiercely shed intolerable day;

Thofe matted woods where birds forget to fing,
But filent bats in drowfy clufters cling

Those pois'nous fields with rank luxuriance crown'd,
Where the dark fcorpion gathers death around;
Where at each step the ftranger fears to wake
The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake :
Where crouching tygers wait their hapless prey,
And favage men more murd'rous ftill than they;
While oft in whirls the mad tornada flies,
Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies.
Far different theft from ev'ry former fcene,
The cooling brook, the graffy vested green,
The breezy covert of the warbling grove,
That only shelter'd thefts of harmless love.

Good Heaven! what forrows gloom'd that parting day,
That call'd them from their native walks away;
When the poor exiles, ev'ry pleasure paft,

Hung round the bow rs, and fondly look'd their laft,
And took a long farewel, and wish'd in vain
For feats like thefe beyond the western main ;
And fhudd'ring ftill to face the deftin'd deep,
Return'd and wept, and ftill return'd to weep.
The good old fire, who firft prepar'd to go
To new-found worlds, and wept for other's wo;
But for himself, in confcious virtue brave,
He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave
His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears,
The fond companion of his helpless years,

Silent went next, neglectful of her charms,
And left a lover's for a father's arms.

With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes
And bleft the cot where ev'ry pleasure rofe;
And kift her thoughtlefs babes with many a tear,
And clafpt them clofe, in forrow doubly dear;
Whilft her fond husband ftrove to lend relief
In all the filent manliness of grief.

O luxury! thou curft by heav'n's decree, How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee! How do thy potions with infidious joy, Diffuse their pleasures only to deftroy ! Kingdoms by thee, to fickly greatness grown, Boalt of a florid vigour not their own.

At ev'ry draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mals of rank unwieldy wo;

Till fapp'd their ftrength, and ev'ry part unfound, Down, down they fink and spread a ruin round,

Ev'n now the devaftation is begun,
And half the business of deftruction done;
Ev'n now methinks, as pond'ring here I ftand,
I fee the rural virtues leave the land.

Down where yon anch'ring veffel fpreads the fail
That idly waiting flaps with ev'ry gale,
Downward they move, a melancholy band,
Pafs from the fhore, and darken all the ftrand.
Contented toil, and hofpitable care,

And kind connubial tenderness are there;
And piety with wishes plac d above,
And steady loyalty, and faithful love.
And thou fweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid,
Still firft to fly where fenfual joys invade;
Unfit in thefe degen'rate times of fhame,
To catch the heart, or strike for honeft fame;
Dear charming nymph, neglected and decry'd,
My fhame in crowds, my folitary pride.

Thou fource of all my blifs, and all my wo,
That found'ft me poor at firft, and keep'ft me fo;
Thou guide by which the nobler arts excel,
Thou nurfe of ev'ry virtue fare thee well,
Farewel, and O! where'er thy voice be try'd,
On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's fide,
Whether where equinoctial fervours glow,
Or winter warps the polar world in fnow,
Still let thy voice prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of th' inclement clime :
Aid flighted truth, with thy perfuafive strain ;
Teach erring man to fpurn the rage of gain,
Teach him, that ftates of native ftrength poffeft,
Tho' very poor may still be very bleft;
That trade's proud empire haftes to swift decay,
And ocean fweeps the labour'd mole away;
While felf-dependant pow'r can time defy,
As rocks refift the billows and the sky.

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