XXIV.

When as the knight had fram'd, in Britain-land
A matchless form of glorious government,

In which the fovereign laws alone command,
Laws stablish'd by the public free confent,
Whose majesty is to the fceptre lent;
When this great plan, with each dependent art,
Was fettled firm, and to his heart's content,
Then fought he from the toilsome scene to part,
And let life's vacant eve breathe quiet through the heart.
XXV.

For this he chose 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 chear'd his bleft domain:
His days, the days of unstain’d nature, roll'd,
Replete with peace and joy, like patriarch's of old.
XXVI.

Witness, ye lowing herds, who gave him milk;
Witness, ye flocks, whose woolly vestments far
Exceed foft India's cotton, or her filk;

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

O, hide thy head, abominable war!

Of crimes and ruffian idleness the child!

From heaven this life yfprung, from hell thy glories

vild!

XXVII. Nor

XXVII.

Nor from his deep retirement banish'd was
Th' amufing care of rural induftry.

Still, as with grateful change the feafons pafs,
New fcenes arife, new landskips strike the eye,
And all th' enliven'd country beautify :

Gay plains extend where marshes slept before;
O'er recent meads th' exulting streamlets fly;

As nearer to his farm you

Dark frowning heaths grow bright with Ceres' ftore, And woods imbrown the steep, or wave along the fhore. XXVIII. made approach, He polish'd nature with a finer hand : Yet on her beauties durft not Art incroach; 'Tis Art's alone thefe beauties to expand. In graceful dance immingled, o'er the land, Pan, Paleas, Flora, and Pomona play'd: Here too brifk gales the rude wild common fand An happy place; where free, and unafraid,

Amid the flowering brakes each coyer creature ftray'd. XXIX.

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, Ev'n 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

ftout.

XXX. A

66

.XXX.

A rage of pleasure madden'd every breaft,
Down to the loweft lees the ferment ran:
To his licentious with each must be bleft,
With joy be fever'd; fnatch it as he can.
Thus Vice the standard rear'd; her arrier-ban
Corruption call'd, and loud she gave the word, [man,
“Mind, mind yourselves! why should the vulgar
"The lacquey be more virtuous than his lord?

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 repofe. "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 stain'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! deftroy

That villain, Archimage.-His page then strait
He to him call'd, a fiery-footed boy,

Benempt Dispatch. "My fteed be at the gate;

My Bard attend; quick, bring the net of fate." This net was twisted by the fifters three;

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

From the ftrong iron grasp of vengeful destiny.

XXXIII. Ho

XXXIII.

He came, the bard, a little druid-wight,
Of wither'd afpect; but his eye was keen,
With sweetness mix'd. In ruffet brown bedight,
As is his fifter of the copfes green,

He crept along, unpromifing of mien.

Grofs he who judges fo. His foul was fair, Bright as the children of yon azure sheen. True comelinefs, which nothing can impair, Dwells in the mind: all elfe is vanity and glare.

XXXIV.

Come, (quoth the knight) a voice has reach'd mine The demon Indolence threats overthrow

To all that to mankind is good and dear :

Come, Philomelus; let us inftant go,

O'erturn his bowers, and lay his castle low,

[ear:

Those men, those wretched men! who will be flaves, Muft drink a bitter wrathful cup of woe:

But fome there be, thy fong, as from their graves, Shall raife. Thrice happy he! who without rigour faves. XXXV.

Iffuing forth, the knight beftrode his steed,

Of ardent bay, and on whose front a star

Shone blazing bright: fprung from the generous

That whirl of active day the rapid car,

[breed

He pranc'd along, difdaining gate or bar.
Meantime, the bard on milk-white palfrey rode;
An honeft fober beaft, that did not mar
His meditations, but full foftly trode;

And much they moraliz'd as thus y fere they yode.

XXXVI. They

* The nightingale.

XXXVI.

They talk'd of virtue, and of human bliss.
What else fo fit for man to fettle well?

And still their long refcarches met in this, This truth of truths, which nothing can refel : "From virtue's fount the pureft joys out-well, "Sweet rills of thought that chear the conscious foul; "While vice pours forth the troubled streams of hell, “The which, howe'er disguis'd, at last with dole Will, through the tortur'd breaft, their fiery torrent XXXVII.

[roll."

At length it dawn'd, that fatal valley gay,
O'er which high wood-crown'd hills their fummits
On the cool height awhile our palmers ftay, [rear.
And spite ev'n of themselves their fenfes chear;
Then to the vizard's wonne their steps they steer.
Like a green isle, it broad beneath them fpred,
With gardens round, and wandering currents clear,
And tufted groves to shade the meadow bed,

Sweet airs and fong; and without hurry all seem'd glad.
XXXVIII.

"As God fhall judge me, knight, we muft forgiv

(The half-enraptur'd Philomelus cry'd)

"The frail good man deluded here to live,
"And in these groves his musing fancy hide.

"Ah! nought is pure. It cannot be deny'd,
"That virtue ftill fome tincture has of vice,
"And vice of virtue. What should then betide
"But that our charity be not too nice?

"Come, let us those we can to real blifs entice.

XXXIX. “Ay,