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And deems it shame if he to peace inclines;
And many a sullen look askaunce is sent,
Which for his dame's annoyance he designs;
And still the more to pleasure him she's bent,
The more doth he, perverse, her 'haviour past resent.

Ah me! how much I fear lest pride it be !
But if that pride it be, which thus inspires,
Beware, ye dames! with nice discernment see
Ye quench not too the sparks of nobler fires :
Ah! better far than all the Muses' lyres,
All coward arts, is valour's generous heat;
The firm fix'd breast which fit and right requires,
Like Vernon's patriot soul; more justly great
Than craft that pimps for ill, or flowery false deceit.

Yet, nursed with skill, what dazzling fruits appear!
Ev'n now sagacious foresight points to show
A little bench of heedless bishops here,
And there a chancellor in embryo,

Or bard sublime, if bard may e'er be so,

As Milton, Shakspeare, names that ne'er shall die!
Though now he crawl along the ground so low,
Nor weeting how the Muse should soar on high,
Wisheth, poor starveling elf, his paper-kite may fly.

And this, perhaps, who censuring the design,
Low lays the house which that of cards doth build,
Shall Dennis be, if rigid Fates incline!
And many an epic to his rage shall yield,

And many a poet quit the Aonian field;
And, sour'd by age, profound he shall appear,
As he who now with 'sdainful fury thrill'd
Surveys mine work, and levels many a sneer,
And furls his wrinkly front, and cries What stuff

is here!'

But now Dan Phoebus gains the middle sky,
And Liberty unbars her prison-door,
And like a rushing torrent out they fly,
And now the grassy cirque han cover'd o'er
With boisterous revel-rout and wild uproar ;
A thousand ways in wanton rings they run-
Heaven shield their short-lived pastime, I implore!
For well may freedom, erst so dearly won,
Appear to British elf more gladsome than the sun.

Enjoy, poor imps! enjoy your sportive trade,
And chase gay flies, and cull the fairest flowers,
For when my bones in grass-green sods are laid,
For never may ye taste more careless hours
In knightly castles, or in ladies' bowers.

O vain to seek delight in earthly thing!

But most in courts, where proud Ambition towers.
Deluded wight! who weens fair peace can spring
Beneath the pompous dome of kesar or of king.
See in each sprite some various bent appear!
These rudely carol, most incondite lay;
Those sauntering on the green, with jocund leer,
Salute the stranger passing on his way;
Some builden fragile tenements of clay,
Some to the standing lake their courses bend,
With pebbles smooth at duck and drake to play;
Thilk to the huckster's savoury cottage tend,

In pastry kings and queens the allotted mite to spend.

Here, as each season yields a different store,
Each season's stores in order ranged been,
Apples with cabbage-net y'-cover'd o'er,
Galling full sore the unmoney'd wight, are seen,
And gooseberry, clad in livery red or green;

And here of lovely dye the Catherine pear,
Fine pear! as lovely for thy juice I ween!
O may no wight e'er pennyless come there,
Lest, smit with ardent love, he pine with hopeless

care!

See! cherries here, ere cherries yet abound,
With thread so white in tempting posies tied,
Scattering like blooming maid their glances round,
With pamper'd look draw little eyes aside,
And must be bought, though penury betide;
The plum all azure, and the nut all brown,
And here, each season, do those cakes abide
Whose honour'd names the inventive city own,
Rendering through Britain's isle Salopia's praises
known. 3

Admired Salopia! that with venial pride
Eyes her bright form in Severn's ambient wave,
Famed for her loyal cares in perils tried,

Her daughters lovely, and her striplings brave:
Ah! midst the rest, may flowers adorn his grave
Whose art did first these dulcet cates display!
A motive fair to Learning's imps he gave,
Who cheerless o'er her darkling region stray,
Till Reason's morn arise, and light them on their

way.

3 Shrewsbury cakes.

RURAL ELEGANCE.

WHILE orient skies restore the day,
And dew-drops catch the lucid ray,
Amid the sprightly scenes of morn
Will aught the Muse inspire?

0 ! peace to yonder clamorous horn,
That drowns the sacred lyre!

Ye rural thanes! that o'er the mossy down
Some panting timorous hare pursue,

Does Nature mean your joys alone to crown?
Say, does she smoothe her lawns for you?

For you does Echo bid the rocks reply,

And, urged by rude constraint, resound the jovial cry?

See from the neighbouring hill, forlorn,
The wretched swain your sport survey;
He finds his faithful fences torn,
He finds his labour'd crops a prey;

He sees his flock-no more in circles feed,
Haply beneath your ravage bleed,

And with no random curses loads the deed.
Nor yet, ye swains! conclude

That Nature smiles for you alone;

Your bounded souls and your conceptions crude,

The proud, the selfish boast disown:

Yours be the produce of the soil;

O may it still reward your toil!
Nor ever the defenceless train

Of clinging infants ask support in vain !

1

But though the various harvest gild your plains,
Does the mere landscape feast your eye?

Or the warm hope of distant gains
Far other cause of glee supply?

Is not the red-streak's future juice

The source of your delight profound,
Where Ariconium pours her gems profuse,
Purpling a whole horizon round?

Athirst ye praise the limpid stream, 'tis true;
But though, the pebbled shores among,
It mimic no unpleasing song,

The limpid fountain murmurs not for you.

Unpleased, ye see the thickets bloom,

Unpleased, the Spring her flowery robe resume
Unmoved, the mountains' airy pile,
The dappled mead without a smile.
O let a rural, conscious Muse,

;

For well she knows, your froward sense accuse:
Forth to the solemn oak you bring the square,
And span the massy trunk before you cry—'Tis fair.

Nor yet, ye learn'd! nor yet, ye courtly train!
If haply from your haunts ye stray
To waste with us a summer's day,
Exclude the taste of every swain,
Nor our untutor'd sense disdain :
'Tis Nature only gives exclusive right
To relish her supreme delight;

She, where she pleases, kind or coy,

Who furnishes the scene, and forms us to enjoy.

Then hither bring the fair ingenuous mind,
By her auspicious aid refined.

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