 | Vaniere's Country farm |  |
163
Vaniere's Country Farm.
BOOK I.
The ARGUMENT.
After the Invocation, the Author lays down the plan of the whole Poem, contained in sixteen Books.
In this he treats of the Situation of the Farm; and instructs the Purchaser how to judge of the goodness of the Air and Water, and the fertility of the Soil. The neighbourhood of a navigable River of great service. Methods of improving the ground. A description of the Royal Canal of Languedoc (thought to be the noblest work executed in the reign of Lewis the XIVth); but which a communication was opened between the Ocean and the Mediterranean. He gives rules for building the Farm, and the Out-houses. How the Servants are to be employed: Trees to be planted and preserved. He laments, in a very pathetic manner, the cutting down of a fine wood near Thoulouse, belonging to the College of Jesuits; in which they used to walk and study; and thence takes occasion to celebrate several of his contemporary scholars, men of Learning and Genius. He seems here to write from
164
I too, ambitious of Poetic praise,
To that insatiate thirst devote my days;
And climb Apollo's slipp'ry Hill, and dare
The slighted Laurel, earn'd with toil, to wear:
For Poets, once ador'd in Wisdom's school,
Are, almost, now the Mark of Ridicule;
Or, late, the sordid age rewards our pains
With Honours, fruitless to our cold Remains.
But Arms, ill suited to my Manners, I
Presume not, with unwarlike hands, to try.
An ample theme the matchless Lewis brings,
And the wide World its great Subduer sings:
But, too luxuriant is the happy Soil,
Worn though it be, and mocks our daring toil;
Scarce can we feign the Wonders He can do,
Nor can the fabled Heroes reach the true:
In mute amazement ends our loud Acclaim,
And repetition tires the voice of Fame.
Nor have I time to exercise the Stage
With trifling humour, or with tragic rage:
While free from real sorrow I remain;
Why should I feel imaginary pain,
And in despairing Elegies complain?
Or treat the taste of these malicious times
With folly, baited in satiric rhymes?
With pleasure I to rural shades retire,
And scenes that glad my eyes, my Song inspire:
Nor can I grudge the pains I undergo;
The Subject charms me, and the Numbers flow.
My want of Genius, if I want, excuse;
For taste and native bent create a Muse.
No more, ye Phantom pow'rs, usurp the throne;
Nor Ceres we, nor Father Bacchus own.
To One true God the world of Christians bends,
And o'er the globe his genial pow'r extends.
Father, and holy Sov'reign of mankind!
By Thee, for better fate, of old design'd;
By thy Indulgence, from Diseases free,
Liv'd the first Man, nor fear'd Mortality;
Yet, tir'd with life, his aged limbs had giv'n
To earth, exchang'd by Innocence, for Heav'n.
But He, offended; and the crime of One,
To All imputed, has the World undone;
The dreadful Apple's interdicted taste
Prov'd to the Grove an universal Blast.
The Ground, obedient to Revenge Divine,
No more, unbidden, yields her Corn and Wine;
But Grass and Thistles: silent we obey,
And willing the paternal Forfeit pay.
Nor dare we now spontaneous Harvests crave,
Or claim the Covenant thy bounty gave
To sinless man; but with commanded sweat,
Permit us, Lord, the bread of care to eat;
And toil, to Nature's happier youth unknown,
Assist with art, to make her stores our own.
With thee to guide me, I the Place survey,
Its Situation, and its Kind display;
The chosen Farm with proper hands prepare,
To tend the Clothier sheep, bestow my care,
And labour with the patient Oxen share.
With wild and planted Trees the ground adorn;
With Grass the meadow, and the field with Corn:
The rural office, thro' its annual round,
My Muse shall follow, and manure the Ground
For Herbs, and Grapes, and Wine, that aids her fire;
And, having finish'd what the Fields require,
On Poultry next, and tender Doves shall wait,
And model with the Bees their fragrant State.
Pools for the Watry nation shall succeed;
And Goats on hills, and Hares in warrens breed,
And, hunted o'er the lawn, the timorous Stag shall bleed.
Born for the Public, mighty Lord, the Grace
And Pillar of your own Lamoignon Race;
That nothing may escape your searching thought,
By your command the Husbandman is taught
His office here; the rest he daily owes
To Providence and You; his Harvest mows
Safe from the Soldier, and enjoys the charms
Of Peace triumphant, in the midst of arms:
Nor sees his oxen from the plough disjoin'd,
And to a heavier task in Camps consign'd;
Nor mourns his peaceful Spades, where you preside,
Forg'd into Faulchions, and in slaughter dy'd;
Compell'd to fight, and leave his work undone
To his lamenting wife, and helpless son.
Tho' Heresy, with ancient rage inspir'd,
To war the neighbour Mountaineers had fir'd,
And cities started at the trumpet's sound;
The vallies were with peace and plenty crown'd:
Nor other care the grateful peasant knew
Than that of Triumphs, to the Blessing due:
For this our Provence prodigally grants
Her Treasures, sacred to the public wants;
And free, as large, her late Supplies attest,
That she can ne'er refuse what you request.
If Love should cool, and loyal Duty fail,
Lamoignon's Eloquence would still prevail.
Long of her wealth by your Persuasion drain'd,
Each willing city has the war maintain'd;
And, thinn'd of men, and scant of money, proves
How well her Country and her King she loves.
With me, ye Farmers, then, consult to dress
The fertile Glebe, and succour our Distress:
Let Misers grasp a vast extent of land,
Such as a hundred ploughs might well demand;
But Wealth to be enjoy'd, and not to load
The prudent Purchaser, is still bestow'd
On Use and Beauty, with no less concern
His Air and Water, than his Soil to learn:
How well the Stream in various falls can play,
Regards not him; but how it shapes its way
To drench the Garden, or its bounty yields,
With ease redundant o'er the fatten'd Fields.
Mild be the Sky, by gentle Breezes fann'd,
But not expos'd to Winds: th' uneven Land,
Just leaning to the South, should entertain
Its fruitful bosom with the kindly Rain.
Low, in a Vale conceal'd, it should not lie;
Nor let a Mountain bare and rough supply
Its scanty product; or Infection, found
In standing waters, spread its bane around.
On Mountains, to the north the tempest lours;
And Corn, upon the Plain, is choak'd by show'rs:
Sunk in a Vale, the Farm remains unblest
With pleasing prospects, and by pools possest:
Whence frequent vapours rais'd, return in rain,
Injurious to the Grapes, and bearded Grain.
Beware of haste, and at first sight, to buy;
For oft the Soil, like Men, deceives your eye.
On true Experience still the Wise depend,
And know, before they trust, the Field or Friend.
The pleasure of a ground, by nature good,
Still grows upon you; but a dwarfish wood
Of sapless twigs, wide spreading every-where,
And Herbage thin, a meagre Earth declare.
By Natives pale and lean, and rarely known
To reach old age, a tainted Air is shewn;
By ghastly eyes, and lungs that heave with Pain,
A crazy carcase, and a cloudy brain.
To that insatiate thirst devote my days;
And climb Apollo's slipp'ry Hill, and dare
The slighted Laurel, earn'd with toil, to wear:
For Poets, once ador'd in Wisdom's school,
Are, almost, now the Mark of Ridicule;
Or, late, the sordid age rewards our pains
With Honours, fruitless to our cold Remains.
But Arms, ill suited to my Manners, I
Presume not, with unwarlike hands, to try.
An ample theme the matchless Lewis brings,
And the wide World its great Subduer sings:
But, too luxuriant is the happy Soil,
Worn though it be, and mocks our daring toil;
Scarce can we feign the Wonders He can do,
Nor can the fabled Heroes reach the true:
In mute amazement ends our loud Acclaim,
And repetition tires the voice of Fame.
Nor have I time to exercise the Stage
With trifling humour, or with tragic rage:
While free from real sorrow I remain;
Why should I feel imaginary pain,
And in despairing Elegies complain?
Or treat the taste of these malicious times
With folly, baited in satiric rhymes?
165
And scenes that glad my eyes, my Song inspire:
Nor can I grudge the pains I undergo;
The Subject charms me, and the Numbers flow.
My want of Genius, if I want, excuse;
For taste and native bent create a Muse.
No more, ye Phantom pow'rs, usurp the throne;
Nor Ceres we, nor Father Bacchus own.
To One true God the world of Christians bends,
And o'er the globe his genial pow'r extends.
Father, and holy Sov'reign of mankind!
By Thee, for better fate, of old design'd;
By thy Indulgence, from Diseases free,
Liv'd the first Man, nor fear'd Mortality;
Yet, tir'd with life, his aged limbs had giv'n
To earth, exchang'd by Innocence, for Heav'n.
But He, offended; and the crime of One,
To All imputed, has the World undone;
The dreadful Apple's interdicted taste
Prov'd to the Grove an universal Blast.
The Ground, obedient to Revenge Divine,
No more, unbidden, yields her Corn and Wine;
But Grass and Thistles: silent we obey,
And willing the paternal Forfeit pay.
Nor dare we now spontaneous Harvests crave,
Or claim the Covenant thy bounty gave
To sinless man; but with commanded sweat,
Permit us, Lord, the bread of care to eat;
166
Assist with art, to make her stores our own.
With thee to guide me, I the Place survey,
Its Situation, and its Kind display;
The chosen Farm with proper hands prepare,
To tend the Clothier sheep, bestow my care,
And labour with the patient Oxen share.
With wild and planted Trees the ground adorn;
With Grass the meadow, and the field with Corn:
The rural office, thro' its annual round,
My Muse shall follow, and manure the Ground
For Herbs, and Grapes, and Wine, that aids her fire;
And, having finish'd what the Fields require,
On Poultry next, and tender Doves shall wait,
And model with the Bees their fragrant State.
Pools for the Watry nation shall succeed;
And Goats on hills, and Hares in warrens breed,
And, hunted o'er the lawn, the timorous Stag shall bleed.
Born for the Public, mighty Lord, the Grace
And Pillar of your own Lamoignon Race;
That nothing may escape your searching thought,
By your command the Husbandman is taught
His office here; the rest he daily owes
To Providence and You; his Harvest mows
Safe from the Soldier, and enjoys the charms
Of Peace triumphant, in the midst of arms:
Nor sees his oxen from the plough disjoin'd,
And to a heavier task in Camps consign'd;
167
Forg'd into Faulchions, and in slaughter dy'd;
Compell'd to fight, and leave his work undone
To his lamenting wife, and helpless son.
Tho' Heresy, with ancient rage inspir'd,
To war the neighbour Mountaineers had fir'd,
And cities started at the trumpet's sound;
The vallies were with peace and plenty crown'd:
Nor other care the grateful peasant knew
Than that of Triumphs, to the Blessing due:
For this our Provence prodigally grants
Her Treasures, sacred to the public wants;
And free, as large, her late Supplies attest,
That she can ne'er refuse what you request.
If Love should cool, and loyal Duty fail,
Lamoignon's Eloquence would still prevail.
Long of her wealth by your Persuasion drain'd,
Each willing city has the war maintain'd;
And, thinn'd of men, and scant of money, proves
How well her Country and her King she loves.
With me, ye Farmers, then, consult to dress
The fertile Glebe, and succour our Distress:
Let Misers grasp a vast extent of land,
Such as a hundred ploughs might well demand;
But Wealth to be enjoy'd, and not to load
The prudent Purchaser, is still bestow'd
On Use and Beauty, with no less concern
His Air and Water, than his Soil to learn:
168
Regards not him; but how it shapes its way
To drench the Garden, or its bounty yields,
With ease redundant o'er the fatten'd Fields.
Mild be the Sky, by gentle Breezes fann'd,
But not expos'd to Winds: th' uneven Land,
Just leaning to the South, should entertain
Its fruitful bosom with the kindly Rain.
Low, in a Vale conceal'd, it should not lie;
Nor let a Mountain bare and rough supply
Its scanty product; or Infection, found
In standing waters, spread its bane around.
On Mountains, to the north the tempest lours;
And Corn, upon the Plain, is choak'd by show'rs:
Sunk in a Vale, the Farm remains unblest
With pleasing prospects, and by pools possest:
Whence frequent vapours rais'd, return in rain,
Injurious to the Grapes, and bearded Grain.
Beware of haste, and at first sight, to buy;
For oft the Soil, like Men, deceives your eye.
On true Experience still the Wise depend,
And know, before they trust, the Field or Friend.
The pleasure of a ground, by nature good,
Still grows upon you; but a dwarfish wood
Of sapless twigs, wide spreading every-where,
And Herbage thin, a meagre Earth declare.
By Natives pale and lean, and rarely known
To reach old age, a tainted Air is shewn;
169
A crazy carcase, and a cloudy brain.
Let gentle Streams on healthy Air attend:
Of these, the best from steepy rocks descend.
The Wells, by easy draughts, the next afford;
And, after them, is Rain, in Cisterns stor'd.
Foul are the Waters, when, with easy pace,
In silence creeping, they the field disgrace:
But, worse than all, if motionless they stand
Among the reeds that spring in marshy land,
His be the cup, by whom a speedier bane,
To end his wretched life, is wish'd in vain.
Of these, the best from steepy rocks descend.
The Wells, by easy draughts, the next afford;
And, after them, is Rain, in Cisterns stor'd.
Foul are the Waters, when, with easy pace,
In silence creeping, they the field disgrace:
But, worse than all, if motionless they stand
Among the reeds that spring in marshy land,
His be the cup, by whom a speedier bane,
To end his wretched life, is wish'd in vain.
In Water, as in Air, no smell is sought,
Nor taste: But should the brook with eels be fraught,
Nor turn the drinker's visage pale, nor soil
With crust the vessel, taught with ease to boil,
Nor tardy to resume its native cold,
Such as is oft from tops of mountains roll'd,
Light in itself, and by its course refin'd;
This is the wholsome drink to chear the mind;
The body well refresh'd, for toil to fit,
To soften manners, and to sharpen wit:
The ductile stream revives the thirsty earth
For plenteous crops, and speeds the golden birth.
Nor taste: But should the brook with eels be fraught,
Nor turn the drinker's visage pale, nor soil
With crust the vessel, taught with ease to boil,
Nor tardy to resume its native cold,
Such as is oft from tops of mountains roll'd,
Light in itself, and by its course refin'd;
This is the wholsome drink to chear the mind;
The body well refresh'd, for toil to fit,
To soften manners, and to sharpen wit:
The ductile stream revives the thirsty earth
For plenteous crops, and speeds the golden birth.
Canals and Reservoirs, of vast expence,
Adorn the Farm with vain magnificence,
If Water, fetch'd from far, the proud allures:
The boon of Nature, not of Art, be yours;
And choose a Soil, by situation good,
And Meads of large extent, and Springs, and Wood.
Where Labour, wanting these, its pow'r will try,
It wastes the year's increase by Luxury;
And on the Farm, provided to augment
The Buyer's store, the Buyer's store is spent.
With care the number and the size regard,
Of Vessels, for the Wine and Oil prepar'd;
Adorn the Farm with vain magnificence,
If Water, fetch'd from far, the proud allures:
The boon of Nature, not of Art, be yours;
170
And Meads of large extent, and Springs, and Wood.
Where Labour, wanting these, its pow'r will try,
It wastes the year's increase by Luxury;
And on the Farm, provided to augment
The Buyer's store, the Buyer's store is spent.
With care the number and the size regard,
Of Vessels, for the Wine and Oil prepar'd;
And let the quantity of Straw appear,
To fix the gains of the foregoing year.
Who cultivates a ground design'd for use,
Consults not its Extent, but its Produce:
How many Tuns the Corn and Wine will yield
Is better reckon'd, than how large the Field.
To fix the gains of the foregoing year.
Who cultivates a ground design'd for use,
Consults not its Extent, but its Produce:
How many Tuns the Corn and Wine will yield
Is better reckon'd, than how large the Field.
He weighs the Taxes too, and gathers thence
How far the gain exceeds the full expence;
Minutely pries into the least concern;
Nor of the Hinds themselves disdains to learn;
Inquiring if the Meads will pay his care,
Uninjur'd by the Herds he pampers there;
If Woods will furnish, as his needs require,
Beams for the house, and logs for smoaky fire;
If Water, from a lasting spring, supplies
The Garden, or is taught in pumps to rise;
Or else from shallow wells, in buckets borne;
If easy be the Road that carries Corn
To town; or if, perhaps, not smooth enough,
Yet not, to shock him, deep in mire, nor rough.
How far the gain exceeds the full expence;
Minutely pries into the least concern;
Nor of the Hinds themselves disdains to learn;
Inquiring if the Meads will pay his care,
Uninjur'd by the Herds he pampers there;
If Woods will furnish, as his needs require,
Beams for the house, and logs for smoaky fire;
If Water, from a lasting spring, supplies
The Garden, or is taught in pumps to rise;
Or else from shallow wells, in buckets borne;
If easy be the Road that carries Corn
To town; or if, perhaps, not smooth enough,
Yet not, to shock him, deep in mire, nor rough.
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Regard not trifles: What can it import,
Forth when you go, and home when you resort,
If Phœbus rising turns your eyes away,
Or full against them darts his ev'ning ray?
Forth when you go, and home when you resort,
If Phœbus rising turns your eyes away,
Or full against them darts his ev'ning ray?
If, by the thickness of the walls assur'd,
You choose a House from heat and cold secur'd;
Be easy if repair'd at little charge,
Built in a homely stile, and lax and large:
With grand antiquity the view it strikes,
And looks a castle, fenc'd with tow'rs and dykes.
You choose a House from heat and cold secur'd;
Be easy if repair'd at little charge,
Built in a homely stile, and lax and large:
With grand antiquity the view it strikes,
And looks a castle, fenc'd with tow'rs and dykes.
A House too spacious for the Farm you buy,
Turns to your use the builder's vanity;
Unless it plunge you in expence too high;
As thither friends may frequently repair,
By large apartments lur'd, and plenteous fare.
Turns to your use the builder's vanity;
Unless it plunge you in expence too high;
As thither friends may frequently repair,
By large apartments lur'd, and plenteous fare.
But say, should filth the lazy glebe oppress,
The Vineyard lie in slovenly undress;
The Garden, foul with Weeds, in vain survey
The stream, that thro' it eats its fruitless way.
No matter; annual toil, with easy art,
Will make the Farm exert its latent heart.
The Vineyard lie in slovenly undress;
The Garden, foul with Weeds, in vain survey
The stream, that thro' it eats its fruitless way.
No matter; annual toil, with easy art,
Will make the Farm exert its latent heart.
Yours be the Field, improv'd by mod'rate cost,
Where all the Fruits a native vigour boast;
Where larger sprouts bespeak a kindly ground;
Where Plants, tenacious of their leaves, abound;
And, scarcely yielding to the winter, show
Their verdant boughs beneath a depth of snow:
Where short recruits of nursing quiet screen
Earth's blooming bosom with unbidden green;
And, easy to be stirr'd, she drinks the rain,
Nor, chapp'd by heat, with-holds the tardy grain.
Where all the Fruits a native vigour boast;
Where larger sprouts bespeak a kindly ground;
Where Plants, tenacious of their leaves, abound;
And, scarcely yielding to the winter, show
Their verdant boughs beneath a depth of snow:
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Earth's blooming bosom with unbidden green;
And, easy to be stirr'd, she drinks the rain,
Nor, chapp'd by heat, with-holds the tardy grain.
But lest the surface of the soil should keep
The secret of its failings, dig it deep:
For, as the mother's milk impairs the child,
By seeds of latent maladies defil'd;
No less the sickly smell of parent Earth
Infects the taste of her unsav'ry birth.
The secret of its failings, dig it deep:
For, as the mother's milk impairs the child,
By seeds of latent maladies defil'd;
No less the sickly smell of parent Earth
Infects the taste of her unsav'ry birth.
More Farms than one a want of thought proclaim,
Expos'd to weather, and to winds the same.
The scheme is grand; but who can praise the wit,
That ventures all upon a single hit?
And rather chooses not the chance to try
Of distant Lands, beneath another sky,
And join to Profit sweet Variety;
Instead of treading still a beaten ground,
With the same hills th' insipid view to bound?
Expos'd to weather, and to winds the same.
The scheme is grand; but who can praise the wit,
That ventures all upon a single hit?
And rather chooses not the chance to try
Of distant Lands, beneath another sky,
And join to Profit sweet Variety;
Instead of treading still a beaten ground,
With the same hills th' insipid view to bound?
A spacious Village near the Farm esteem;
A City, or a navigable Stream:
By easy carriage, such a choice commands
A sure increase of wealth; and many hands
To till the ground; and artists to supply
The various implements of Husbandry.
Your Table too is heap'd with ready fare:
And, should a sudden chance your health impair,
A sage Physician, still in call, affords
Perhaps good medicines, or, at least, good words:
But let your distance from the town be such,
That daily guests disturb you not too much.
A City, or a navigable Stream:
By easy carriage, such a choice commands
A sure increase of wealth; and many hands
To till the ground; and artists to supply
The various implements of Husbandry.
Your Table too is heap'd with ready fare:
And, should a sudden chance your health impair,
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Perhaps good medicines, or, at least, good words:
But let your distance from the town be such,
That daily guests disturb you not too much.
Avoid a Farm too near the public way;
For thence the military vermin stray:
A cloud of hail, by rattling thunder rent,
Could never match a marching regiment
For terror to the swains, when, rising high,
A cloud of dust proclaims the spoilers nigh:
Nor can my Dame with greater haste remove
Her chickens from the kite, that wheels above;
Nor, for himself, the Hind, nor for the fold,
Can more in dread the wolf's approach behold,
Than when he hears afar the neighing steeds,
And a long train of glitt'ring steel succeeds:
For soon the devious paths the Soldier tries;
And all, that in the way of rapine lies,
Obtain'd by fraud or force, is lawful prize.
The Peasant, at his daily work, they seize,
And press his lab'ring team for carriages;
Torn from the plough, by orders most unjust,
To speed the weary march, obey he must.
The Children mourn their sire, her spouse the Wife,
Dragg'd, as they think, to fighting fields for life,
If fighting fields, alas! his life will spare,
To carry, for a goad, a musquet there.
Trembling they cry, He goes, and ne'er will come
Back to his pleasing task, and sweeter home.
For thence the military vermin stray:
A cloud of hail, by rattling thunder rent,
Could never match a marching regiment
For terror to the swains, when, rising high,
A cloud of dust proclaims the spoilers nigh:
Nor can my Dame with greater haste remove
Her chickens from the kite, that wheels above;
Nor, for himself, the Hind, nor for the fold,
Can more in dread the wolf's approach behold,
Than when he hears afar the neighing steeds,
And a long train of glitt'ring steel succeeds:
For soon the devious paths the Soldier tries;
And all, that in the way of rapine lies,
Obtain'd by fraud or force, is lawful prize.
The Peasant, at his daily work, they seize,
And press his lab'ring team for carriages;
Torn from the plough, by orders most unjust,
To speed the weary march, obey he must.
The Children mourn their sire, her spouse the Wife,
Dragg'd, as they think, to fighting fields for life,
If fighting fields, alas! his life will spare,
To carry, for a goad, a musquet there.
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Back to his pleasing task, and sweeter home.
The Neighbour Farmer too your caution claims:
Explore his turn, his morals, and his aims:
The wise ne'er choose a nuisance they can shun:
And endless quarrels, with a Knave begun,
Are but a scurvy portion for a Son.
For, taught by stealth a diff'rent course to take,
The waters now your thirsty grass forsake;
Anon, by banks on purpose made, they rise,
And, floated all at once, your meadow lies:
A path, by trespass gain'd, divides your grounds,
Robb'd of their fruit, or par'd to narrower bounds:
The stone that mark'd them is by fraud displac'd,
And freely stranger beasts your pastures waste:
But, where the manors join, should yours appear,
Or should you fell an oak that grows too near
The doubtful spot, expect a suit at law;
Which into length the graceless Judge will draw
To serve the Bar; and turn your herds to fees,
Before your title to the ground he sees.
A costly conquest! And the stick of wood,
Tho' noxious to the Corn, had better stood.
Explore his turn, his morals, and his aims:
The wise ne'er choose a nuisance they can shun:
And endless quarrels, with a Knave begun,
Are but a scurvy portion for a Son.
For, taught by stealth a diff'rent course to take,
The waters now your thirsty grass forsake;
Anon, by banks on purpose made, they rise,
And, floated all at once, your meadow lies:
A path, by trespass gain'd, divides your grounds,
Robb'd of their fruit, or par'd to narrower bounds:
The stone that mark'd them is by fraud displac'd,
And freely stranger beasts your pastures waste:
But, where the manors join, should yours appear,
Or should you fell an oak that grows too near
The doubtful spot, expect a suit at law;
Which into length the graceless Judge will draw
To serve the Bar; and turn your herds to fees,
Before your title to the ground he sees.
A costly conquest! And the stick of wood,
Tho' noxious to the Corn, had better stood.
I pass your Grapes, away in clusters borne;
And, with the boughs, your Nuts and Apples torn.
Your Ewes and Lambs, by nature prone to stray;
Your Oxen too are spirited away:
But Oxen never being known to roam,
Look for the thief, your Neighbour, nearer home.
And, with the boughs, your Nuts and Apples torn.
Your Ewes and Lambs, by nature prone to stray;
Your Oxen too are spirited away:
175
Look for the thief, your Neighbour, nearer home.
Alas, how wretched is a life like this!
A Friend, where-ever found, must heighten bliss:
But sure a country life demands him most,
To chear the hours in dull Retirement lost:
His Neighbour, in his turn, to feasts invite;
Receive the dues of Friendship, and requite.
Without him, musing, you to woods retreat,
And hear the Birds their melody repeat:
Or, thence returning home, when Hunger calls,
Converse with stupid servants and with walls.
Chagrin'd by this, and not averse to range,
The dismal Country for the Town you change:
But soon repent it; for, of this be sure,
The Master's Eye excels the best Manure
To mend the Soil; unless he ranks with those,
Who slight Improvement, and prefer Repose;
Contented to be stretch'd at lazy ease
By purling streams, or under shady trees.
A Friend, where-ever found, must heighten bliss:
But sure a country life demands him most,
To chear the hours in dull Retirement lost:
His Neighbour, in his turn, to feasts invite;
Receive the dues of Friendship, and requite.
Without him, musing, you to woods retreat,
And hear the Birds their melody repeat:
Or, thence returning home, when Hunger calls,
Converse with stupid servants and with walls.
Chagrin'd by this, and not averse to range,
The dismal Country for the Town you change:
But soon repent it; for, of this be sure,
The Master's Eye excels the best Manure
To mend the Soil; unless he ranks with those,
Who slight Improvement, and prefer Repose;
Contented to be stretch'd at lazy ease
By purling streams, or under shady trees.
If then your income will allow the charge,
With all conveniences your House enlarge.
But first the Plants, your Field requires, prepare;
Your House and Stables be your second care.
With all conveniences your House enlarge.
But first the Plants, your Field requires, prepare;
Your House and Stables be your second care.
With happy pains and speed apply your thoughts
To mend your idle Predecessor's faults:
For know, that Mother Earth, from which we sprung,
Tho' long neglected, still continues young:
By Years uninjur'd she renews her course,
And easy Culture aids her genial force.
But we, frail Mortals, if we live to feel
Age, the disease which art can never heal,
By Nature's law from bad to worse decay,
And wish in vain to tread the backward way.
To mend your idle Predecessor's faults:
For know, that Mother Earth, from which we sprung,
Tho' long neglected, still continues young:
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And easy Culture aids her genial force.
But we, frail Mortals, if we live to feel
Age, the disease which art can never heal,
By Nature's law from bad to worse decay,
And wish in vain to tread the backward way.
Resolve to free the Ground from stones and grass,
Nor let, unpunish'd, fern nor rubbish pass:
But fern, by sowing Beans, is best reclaim'd,
And grass and rushes by the Plough are tam'd.
The Stones remov'd by hands, aloft you heap
Amid the field, or hide in ditches deep;
But, clear'd of stones, too late or soon, the ground
False to the Farmer's wish is often found;
For, ere remov'd, they teach the Mold to grow
To such a hardness as forbids the Flow
Of juices destin'd for the seed below;
Or roots, beneath too warm a sun, require
The help of Pebbles, to repel his fire.
Nor let, unpunish'd, fern nor rubbish pass:
But fern, by sowing Beans, is best reclaim'd,
And grass and rushes by the Plough are tam'd.
The Stones remov'd by hands, aloft you heap
Amid the field, or hide in ditches deep;
But, clear'd of stones, too late or soon, the ground
False to the Farmer's wish is often found;
For, ere remov'd, they teach the Mold to grow
To such a hardness as forbids the Flow
Of juices destin'd for the seed below;
Or roots, beneath too warm a sun, require
The help of Pebbles, to repel his fire.
If Moss and slimy Scurf disgrace the mead,
O'er-run with Herbage of a coarser breed,
With dung or ashes that desect amend;
Or, should the slowness of the Cure offend,
Plow it for Wheat; and lest th' indocile soil
The first essay of fainter Wheat should foil,
Promiscuous herbs, its rankness to destroy,
And thriving Beans, and hungry Rape employ.
O'er-run with Herbage of a coarser breed,
With dung or ashes that desect amend;
Or, should the slowness of the Cure offend,
Plow it for Wheat; and lest th' indocile soil
The first essay of fainter Wheat should foil,
Promiscuous herbs, its rankness to destroy,
And thriving Beans, and hungry Rape employ.
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A Farm o'ergrown with Wood, is help'd with ease,
And various kinds of grain succeed to Trees.
For that convenience you have still at hand,
Clear'd of its Holms, by Corn to mend the land.
And various kinds of grain succeed to Trees.
For that convenience you have still at hand,
Clear'd of its Holms, by Corn to mend the land.
The Plane and verdant Oak, if Groves you want,
And tardy Elms, for future ages plant.
O'erturn'd by winds, your Olive-trees restore;
And, where a Trunk, or barren you deplore,
Or in a poor degen'rate fruit array'd,
The vengeful ax against the root be laid;
Or lop the Branches, and the savage kind
With ease by grafting is to mild refin'd.
And tardy Elms, for future ages plant.
O'erturn'd by winds, your Olive-trees restore;
And, where a Trunk, or barren you deplore,
Or in a poor degen'rate fruit array'd,
The vengeful ax against the root be laid;
Or lop the Branches, and the savage kind
With ease by grafting is to mild refin'd.
But if the Corn, oppress'd by Rain, should die,
And Pools of water on the surface lie,
Nor swallow'd by the ground; nor finding vent
To reach the River by a just descent;
To cure this Evil, deep within the field
Be sunk a Trench; or else, from view conceal'd,
If sandy flows the Soil, your Pipes extend,
Where, like Stone-bridges, Drains at either end,
Of proper size, the Water's course befriend.
And Pools of water on the surface lie,
Nor swallow'd by the ground; nor finding vent
To reach the River by a just descent;
To cure this Evil, deep within the field
Be sunk a Trench; or else, from view conceal'd,
If sandy flows the Soil, your Pipes extend,
Where, like Stone-bridges, Drains at either end,
Of proper size, the Water's course befriend.
O! were it yours, by kinder Fate's decree,
From drowsy Lakes a tract of land to free,
New to the Sun, with what immense increase,
Preserv'd for Ages in unfruitful Peace
And fat with Mud, the cultivated Soil
The Seed would render, and o'erpay the toil!
Such plenteous Harvests does Beziers behold,
Adorning Fields, by Vessels plow'd of old:
For as no happier Earth to Rome was known,
Tho' once she call'd the conquer'd World her own,
A part, too precious to be lost, she gain'd
From fenny Waters, through a Mountain drain'd.
So great a Work could ancient times produce,
Of solid Glory and perpetual Use.
From drowsy Lakes a tract of land to free,
New to the Sun, with what immense increase,
Preserv'd for Ages in unfruitful Peace
And fat with Mud, the cultivated Soil
The Seed would render, and o'erpay the toil!
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Adorning Fields, by Vessels plow'd of old:
For as no happier Earth to Rome was known,
Tho' once she call'd the conquer'd World her own,
A part, too precious to be lost, she gain'd
From fenny Waters, through a Mountain drain'd.
So great a Work could ancient times produce,
Of solid Glory and perpetual Use.
Unknown, and deep in Earth, the Passage lay,
Till France projected her stupendous way
Bor'd through the rocky mountain; to ally
The double Sea in one commercial Tie.
This Channel, crossing hers, she then disclos'd,
And ancient Labour stood to ours oppos'd,
When, long our Rival in Mechanic pow'rs,
Ev'n Rome was foil'd, and own'd the conquest ours.
Her utmost efforts, to the neighb'ring Main
A Lake diverted, with its Tadpole Train:
But France, to join the distant Seas intent,
A Path, unknown before to Ships, has rent
Thro' depths of Earth; an Arch restrains the force
Of Waters near it, in their steepy course';
So swift before, that Vessels, from the Height,
A Downfal, Icarus, like thine, might wait.
The Stygian Pool they now appear to sweep,
And cleave with Oars the subterraneous Deep,
Immers'd in Earth: But when, at once, Beziers
Her glitt'ring Tow'rs magnificently rears,
Fields, by the Sun array'd in purple light,
Like blest Elysium, strike the wond'ring sight.
Till France projected her stupendous way
Bor'd through the rocky mountain; to ally
The double Sea in one commercial Tie.
This Channel, crossing hers, she then disclos'd,
And ancient Labour stood to ours oppos'd,
When, long our Rival in Mechanic pow'rs,
Ev'n Rome was foil'd, and own'd the conquest ours.
Her utmost efforts, to the neighb'ring Main
A Lake diverted, with its Tadpole Train:
But France, to join the distant Seas intent,
A Path, unknown before to Ships, has rent
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Of Waters near it, in their steepy course';
So swift before, that Vessels, from the Height,
A Downfal, Icarus, like thine, might wait.
The Stygian Pool they now appear to sweep,
And cleave with Oars the subterraneous Deep,
Immers'd in Earth: But when, at once, Beziers
Her glitt'ring Tow'rs magnificently rears,
Fields, by the Sun array'd in purple light,
Like blest Elysium, strike the wond'ring sight.
Yet soon the Landschape drops its matchless charms,
And mortal Dread the Sailors breast alarms.
From steepy Heights the noisy Waters flow,
Like Torrents rais'd by Rain and melting Snow
From rugged Alpine Hills, to drown the Vales below.
Of roaring Falls they hear the dismal sound,
And just on ruin's brink the Ship is found:
Yet craggy Leaps, that active Kids had scar'd,
For Navigation are by Art prepar'd.
The Streams, which once from Precipices fell,
By various steps to gentle levels swell;
The check of large laborious Works endure,
And laden Barks by easy falls secure.
And mortal Dread the Sailors breast alarms.
From steepy Heights the noisy Waters flow,
Like Torrents rais'd by Rain and melting Snow
From rugged Alpine Hills, to drown the Vales below.
Of roaring Falls they hear the dismal sound,
And just on ruin's brink the Ship is found:
Yet craggy Leaps, that active Kids had scar'd,
For Navigation are by Art prepar'd.
The Streams, which once from Precipices fell,
By various steps to gentle levels swell;
The check of large laborious Works endure,
And laden Barks by easy falls secure.
This noble Task, Riquet, atchiev'd by You,
Exalts your City and your Nation too.
Beziers, by You, in Wealth and Beauty grows;
To You the Height of each, the Nation owes.
Taught, by the Rocks you tore, the Streams you led
To change their course, and form another bed,
She never, now, can Hercules forget:
Great were his toils; but yours are greater yet,
That thus, uniting Seas remote, advance
A naval Commerce thro' the heart of France,
Work of a mighty Mind! and what may move,
Ev'n now, your wonder in the realms above,
If Joys on earth can mix with heav'nly Love.
Or may a dearer sight your pleasure claim;
A Nephew, sprung from a Lamoignon Dame;
Domestic Lessons and Examples join
To raise his virtues to a pitch divine!
His Sire and Uncle shall his choice divide;
Nor will he soon the glorious doubt decide,
If Helmets shall, in time, enclose his hair,
Or sacred Themis; twist her Fillets there.
Exalts your City and your Nation too.
Beziers, by You, in Wealth and Beauty grows;
To You the Height of each, the Nation owes.
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To change their course, and form another bed,
She never, now, can Hercules forget:
Great were his toils; but yours are greater yet,
That thus, uniting Seas remote, advance
A naval Commerce thro' the heart of France,
Work of a mighty Mind! and what may move,
Ev'n now, your wonder in the realms above,
If Joys on earth can mix with heav'nly Love.
Or may a dearer sight your pleasure claim;
A Nephew, sprung from a Lamoignon Dame;
Domestic Lessons and Examples join
To raise his virtues to a pitch divine!
His Sire and Uncle shall his choice divide;
Nor will he soon the glorious doubt decide,
If Helmets shall, in time, enclose his hair,
Or sacred Themis; twist her Fillets there.
Where Fountains fail to chear the thirsty ground,
And tokens of a hidden source abound
Beyond dispute; by digging clear a Way
For Waters eager to salute the day.
But, not on lying symptoms to depend,
Flat on the ground, the morning sky attend
With rising Phœbus red; and Water lies
Where a thin smoke and fleeting vapours rise.
The cluster'd Gnats, descending in a ring,
Betray, with like success, a lurking Spring:
Fleabane and Moss in the discov'ry join;
The Willow, Rush, and reedy Calamine;
And all the rest of vegetable Birth,
Produc'd, like those I name, by moister earth.
And tokens of a hidden source abound
Beyond dispute; by digging clear a Way
For Waters eager to salute the day.
But, not on lying symptoms to depend,
Flat on the ground, the morning sky attend
With rising Phœbus red; and Water lies
Where a thin smoke and fleeting vapours rise.
The cluster'd Gnats, descending in a ring,
Betray, with like success, a lurking Spring:
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The Willow, Rush, and reedy Calamine;
And all the rest of vegetable Birth,
Produc'd, like those I name, by moister earth.
On such authentic proofs Impostors build,
To gull the croud, in Nature's laws unskill'd;
With pliant wands pretending to explore
The Springs they trac'd by common marks before;
As if, to fountains hid within the bed
Of Earth, a hazle bough would bend its head;
But, stubborn and erect, defy'd the force
Of torrents rolling from their lofty source.
To gull the croud, in Nature's laws unskill'd;
With pliant wands pretending to explore
The Springs they trac'd by common marks before;
As if, to fountains hid within the bed
Of Earth, a hazle bough would bend its head;
But, stubborn and erect, defy'd the force
Of torrents rolling from their lofty source.
So Roman Priests suborn'd the Birds to fly;
With crooked slaves they measur'd out the sky:
Things, in their causes, the Diviners saw,
But omens of them from the Birds would draw:
It took the Vulgar, who had eyes the flight
To mark, but never brains to judge aright.
With crooked slaves they measur'd out the sky:
Things, in their causes, the Diviners saw,
But omens of them from the Birds would draw:
It took the Vulgar, who had eyes the flight
To mark, but never brains to judge aright.
I caught a Spark of this assuming mould;
A finder out of Water and of Gold:
The task was light, believing crouds to cheat;
And hope of Lucre favour'd the deceit:
Gold under grass he finds: surprize I feign;
And place it there, in view of all, again;
But question still the self-declining wand,
And tax the secret motion of his hand.
To cure my doubt, he turns his eyes astray,
Whilst I, by stealth, remove the gold away:
Again the bending bough th' Impostor tries,
And, stirring not his hand, Behold, he cries,
The pow'r of all-attracting Gold alone!
What mean you? answer I; the Gold is gone.
The Trickster, thus deceiv'd, their jest became;
And flight betray'd his guilt and silent shame.
But still he carries on his gainful trade;
New scenes are open'd, and new fools are made.
A finder out of Water and of Gold:
The task was light, believing crouds to cheat;
And hope of Lucre favour'd the deceit:
Gold under grass he finds: surprize I feign;
And place it there, in view of all, again;
But question still the self-declining wand,
And tax the secret motion of his hand.
To cure my doubt, he turns his eyes astray,
Whilst I, by stealth, remove the gold away:
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And, stirring not his hand, Behold, he cries,
The pow'r of all-attracting Gold alone!
What mean you? answer I; the Gold is gone.
The Trickster, thus deceiv'd, their jest became;
And flight betray'd his guilt and silent shame.
But still he carries on his gainful trade;
New scenes are open'd, and new fools are made.
Of many symptoms hitherto assign'd
In proof of Water, if none credit find,
Then dig a pit, and bricks unbak'd prepare,
And brazen vessels be inverted there:
Let oil-fed lamps, and wool, within be pent,
And cover close with boards the narrow vent.
If, when the night is o'er, inclin'd to wet
You see the wool, the vessels moist with sweat,
The bricks dissolv'd to clay, the light no more,
Then look for latent Water: Or explore,
If still you doubt, the soil with kindled Fire;
And, issuing thence, if clouds of smoke aspire,
A copious source will underneath be found;
Unless a winter show'r has drench'd the ground.
In proof of Water, if none credit find,
Then dig a pit, and bricks unbak'd prepare,
And brazen vessels be inverted there:
Let oil-fed lamps, and wool, within be pent,
And cover close with boards the narrow vent.
If, when the night is o'er, inclin'd to wet
You see the wool, the vessels moist with sweat,
The bricks dissolv'd to clay, the light no more,
Then look for latent Water: Or explore,
If still you doubt, the soil with kindled Fire;
And, issuing thence, if clouds of smoke aspire,
A copious source will underneath be found;
Unless a winter show'r has drench'd the ground.
Inspecting next the Soils of various kind,
A small and maukish stream in chalk you find,
The blacker earth distils along the plain,
A tasteful liquor from a needy vein.
A gravel ground its promis'd store supplies
Of Fountains thin and sweet. The streams that rise
Among red stones the Credulous betray,
And slip again thro' secret veins away.
The well-drain'd Rill, thro' mudless sands convey'd,
With healing plenty gives the stomach aid.
Salubrious springs the Hill's hard bottom yields;
Unwholsome are the brooks of fruitful fields:
But headlong rivers more abundant flow
From lofty mountains, thro' the vales below.
A small and maukish stream in chalk you find,
The blacker earth distils along the plain,
A tasteful liquor from a needy vein.
A gravel ground its promis'd store supplies
Of Fountains thin and sweet. The streams that rise
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And slip again thro' secret veins away.
The well-drain'd Rill, thro' mudless sands convey'd,
With healing plenty gives the stomach aid.
Salubrious springs the Hill's hard bottom yields;
Unwholsome are the brooks of fruitful fields:
But headlong rivers more abundant flow
From lofty mountains, thro' the vales below.
Whether the Snow, by the prevailing pow'r
Of Phœbus melted, joins the soaking show'r,
And gather'd both, the hollow space within,
Of Springs and Rivers form a magazine;
Or waters of the circling Ocean, led
Thro' hidden chanels, sink beneath his bed;
And all the spacious Globe is undermin'd
By waves before, that yield to waves behind;
And, pushing, urge, with unresisted force,
To tops of mountains, their eternal course;
As up the cloth the moist effluvia tend,
Or fountains from an eminence descend
Thro' hidden pipes, and, darting up amain,
In empty air their former height regain.
Of Phœbus melted, joins the soaking show'r,
And gather'd both, the hollow space within,
Of Springs and Rivers form a magazine;
Or waters of the circling Ocean, led
Thro' hidden chanels, sink beneath his bed;
And all the spacious Globe is undermin'd
By waves before, that yield to waves behind;
And, pushing, urge, with unresisted force,
To tops of mountains, their eternal course;
As up the cloth the moist effluvia tend,
Or fountains from an eminence descend
Thro' hidden pipes, and, darting up amain,
In empty air their former height regain.
Or, as from Wine and Flow'rs, exhal'd by fires,
The Spirit to the Caldron's side aspires,
And, hanging there, to little drops congeals;
So Earth a flame within her bowels feels:
The lazy Waters thro' its heat relent,
In hollow mountains, as in Caldrons, pent;
Nor to ascend in smoky steams refrain,
Till the cold concave of the hill they gain,
Resume their form, and thicken into rain.
The stones are moisten'd, and the weeping earth,
In plenteous drops, reveals a River's birth.
The mountain's craggy sides its springs essay,
And here and there thro' chinks enlarge the way,
And, rolling down a slope, thro' lowly vallies stray.
The Spirit to the Caldron's side aspires,
And, hanging there, to little drops congeals;
So Earth a flame within her bowels feels:
The lazy Waters thro' its heat relent,
In hollow mountains, as in Caldrons, pent;
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Till the cold concave of the hill they gain,
Resume their form, and thicken into rain.
The stones are moisten'd, and the weeping earth,
In plenteous drops, reveals a River's birth.
The mountain's craggy sides its springs essay,
And here and there thro' chinks enlarge the way,
And, rolling down a slope, thro' lowly vallies stray.
With vapours deep has Earth her bowels fraught,
And they, to burn, by central Fire are taught:
A truth which plants, oppress'd by snow, unfold;
Safe in its silent heat, amid the cold.
Nor can we doubt it, when, thro' ruddy air,
Flames, in a globe, their way from Ætna tear;
While pale Sicilians see the ground divide,
And gaping caverns spout th' infernal tide.
And they, to burn, by central Fire are taught:
A truth which plants, oppress'd by snow, unfold;
Safe in its silent heat, amid the cold.
Nor can we doubt it, when, thro' ruddy air,
Flames, in a globe, their way from Ætna tear;
While pale Sicilians see the ground divide,
And gaping caverns spout th' infernal tide.
By this salubrious heat the Baths are warm'd,
And Fountains boil, and stubborn Brass is form'd;
And Gold, in hollow mountains bak'd, to shame
The vainly boasted pow'rs of chymic flame.
With such sagacity can Nature blow
The quick'ning Fire she feeds in depths below,
That Miners, diving in metallic ground,
The gloomy verge of Pluto's realms have found:
And such a force sulphureous fire attends,
As shakes the centre, and the mountains rends.
And Fountains boil, and stubborn Brass is form'd;
And Gold, in hollow mountains bak'd, to shame
The vainly boasted pow'rs of chymic flame.
With such sagacity can Nature blow
The quick'ning Fire she feeds in depths below,
That Miners, diving in metallic ground,
The gloomy verge of Pluto's realms have found:
And such a force sulphureous fire attends,
As shakes the centre, and the mountains rends.
The flame that issues from the Cannon's vent,
But copies those in Earth's recesses pent:
Nor did its new Prometheus from the skies,
By impious theft, import the fatal prize.
But copies those in Earth's recesses pent:
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By impious theft, import the fatal prize.
By boiling Seas are central Fires betray'd;
And stones, emerging thence, have lately made
An isle in Indian seas, when rending Earth
Slung from the deep Abyss her noisy birth.
The new-form'd ridge o'erlooks the Main below,
And far and wide the smoking billows glow.
Ships were employ'd the wonder to explore;
But ventur'd near it, and return'd no more.
Consum'd by flames that steam'd from under-ground,
The hidden cause too fatally they found.
And stones, emerging thence, have lately made
An isle in Indian seas, when rending Earth
Slung from the deep Abyss her noisy birth.
The new-form'd ridge o'erlooks the Main below,
And far and wide the smoking billows glow.
Ships were employ'd the wonder to explore;
But ventur'd near it, and return'd no more.
Consum'd by flames that steam'd from under-ground,
The hidden cause too fatally they found.
The waters in the mountain's bottom meet;
From Earth's internal fire they draw their heat,
And then, in vapours, to its summit fleet.
Again in drops they thicken there, and thence,
By confluent rills, a River's course commence:
The River, swiftly rolling down the steep,
Its tribute borrow'd first, repays the deep.
Hence waters flowing from the mountain's height,
And form'd of vapours thin, are light of weight,
And healthy; as the Sand they moisten drains
The noxious mixture that abounds in Rains:
For these, however rarify'd, like those,
Retain the taint of Earth from which they rose,
Exhal'd by Phœbus, and, with venom fraught,
To witless Sailors prove a baneful draught,
When, far from land, their fiery thirst they slake
At cisterns, and the running streams forsake.
From Earth's internal fire they draw their heat,
And then, in vapours, to its summit fleet.
Again in drops they thicken there, and thence,
By confluent rills, a River's course commence:
The River, swiftly rolling down the steep,
Its tribute borrow'd first, repays the deep.
Hence waters flowing from the mountain's height,
And form'd of vapours thin, are light of weight,
And healthy; as the Sand they moisten drains
The noxious mixture that abounds in Rains:
For these, however rarify'd, like those,
Retain the taint of Earth from which they rose,
Exhal'd by Phœbus, and, with venom fraught,
To witless Sailors prove a baneful draught,
186
At cisterns, and the running streams forsake.
Mean while consider well before you raise
Your future Villa, and be this its praise:
In Room not scanted, and for Health contriv'd;
With Beauty from the place itself deriv'd;
Disclaiming the support of Art and Cost,
Let it in Groves of pleasing shade be lost;
Where Nature's gentle hand a River leads,
In slow meanders, thro' the flow'ry meads.
So shall your houshold gods maintain their state,
For endless ages, at an easy rate.
Your future Villa, and be this its praise:
In Room not scanted, and for Health contriv'd;
With Beauty from the place itself deriv'd;
Disclaiming the support of Art and Cost,
Let it in Groves of pleasing shade be lost;
Where Nature's gentle hand a River leads,
In slow meanders, thro' the flow'ry meads.
So shall your houshold gods maintain their state,
For endless ages, at an easy rate.
Shun the near torrent, and the public way,
Lest such a neighbourhood your plains betray,
To Floods and Robbers a defenceless prey.
Be distant too the Lake; Disease and bane
Point its eruptions; and the croaking train,
That from its miry weeds profusely spring,
With yawning jaws their old revilings ring,
And banish balmy sleep: Its mists, convey'd
By ev'ry wind, destroy the springing blade:
In rust it hides the tools of rural care,
And rots the Fruits reserv'd for Winter's fare.
Lest such a neighbourhood your plains betray,
To Floods and Robbers a defenceless prey.
Be distant too the Lake; Disease and bane
Point its eruptions; and the croaking train,
That from its miry weeds profusely spring,
With yawning jaws their old revilings ring,
And banish balmy sleep: Its mists, convey'd
By ev'ry wind, destroy the springing blade:
In rust it hides the tools of rural care,
And rots the Fruits reserv'd for Winter's fare.
A dwelling in a Vale offends my taste;
And better were it on a Mountain plac'd,
Hung, like an Eagle's nest, for winds to beat,
In imitation of some ancient seat,
Than bury'd underneath a crooked hill,
The numbing fang of lazy Frost to feel;
Or in the flames of angry Sirius fry,
Without a breath of air to chear the sky.
And better were it on a Mountain plac'd,
Hung, like an Eagle's nest, for winds to beat,
In imitation of some ancient seat,
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The numbing fang of lazy Frost to feel;
Or in the flames of angry Sirius fry,
Without a breath of air to chear the sky.
Chuse then a place not level, to retain
A standing pool of Winter's hoarded rain;
Nor high, to droop beneath the southern blast,
Or down a rough descent the show'rs to cast.
But, in a Vale if latent, let it lie
Pervious to air; or, on a Mountain high,
Behind a higher yet, the freezing North defy.
Or, should you rather to a Plain repair,
A gentle slope for winter show'rs be there.
A standing pool of Winter's hoarded rain;
Nor high, to droop beneath the southern blast,
Or down a rough descent the show'rs to cast.
But, in a Vale if latent, let it lie
Pervious to air; or, on a Mountain high,
Behind a higher yet, the freezing North defy.
Or, should you rather to a Plain repair,
A gentle slope for winter show'rs be there.
Where, barely shelving to the southern heat,
A fruitful wold, of easy rise, you meet;
And falling water's noise disturbs you not;
Contrive to build in that selected spot.
Delineate there the space for Cellars meant,
And Courts, and Vaults, and all the work's extent:
And, lest the House, from hurry and neglect,
Derive a flaw you would, too late, correct,
Let this your sketch, within a trench inclos'd,
Stand for a year, to public view expos'd;
So shall the whole, by you at leisure, scann'd
With able Builders, be correctly plann'd.
A fruitful wold, of easy rise, you meet;
And falling water's noise disturbs you not;
Contrive to build in that selected spot.
Delineate there the space for Cellars meant,
And Courts, and Vaults, and all the work's extent:
And, lest the House, from hurry and neglect,
Derive a flaw you would, too late, correct,
Let this your sketch, within a trench inclos'd,
Stand for a year, to public view expos'd;
So shall the whole, by you at leisure, scann'd
With able Builders, be correctly plann'd.
Want not a House where-e'er a Farm you own,
Nor want a Farm to match your House in Town:
For public censure you are sure to meet,
In building one for your Estate too great.
Attempts, if difficult, may wonder raise;
But only to accomplish them is praise;
And, when you work on Pride's delusive views,
Shame, in proportion, its defeat pursues.
Nor want a Farm to match your House in Town:
188
In building one for your Estate too great.
Attempts, if difficult, may wonder raise;
But only to accomplish them is praise;
And, when you work on Pride's delusive views,
Shame, in proportion, its defeat pursues.
Would you a Country Mansion, lax and large,
Erect, with little pains, and mod'rate charge,
Be sure you Nature's benefits improve;
Stones from the ground, and Timber from the grove;
While Boughs and Loppings feed the forming flame,
When to the Builder Brick your Clay you frame;
Erect, with little pains, and mod'rate charge,
Be sure you Nature's benefits improve;
Stones from the ground, and Timber from the grove;
While Boughs and Loppings feed the forming flame,
When to the Builder Brick your Clay you frame;
Or pits are sunk, your Gravel to supply,
Or waggons draw it from the river nigh:
For these precautions still befit the wise,
Ere yet their infant walls begin to rise.
Or waggons draw it from the river nigh:
For these precautions still befit the wise,
Ere yet their infant walls begin to rise.
On Stones, by sturdy oxen drawn, bestow
The winter's vacant days; in Woods o'erthrow
Full many a neighbour Plane, by sounding strokes,
And widely prostrate lay the pond'rous Oaks,
Tall Ashes, Firs for dry duration fam'd,
And Beeches, hardly by the Joiner tam'd.
The waning moon, auspicious to the wound
Inflicted on the Poplar's trunk, is found;
And when the mangled tree has felt the breach
Within a little of its heart to reach,
Howe'er a fall its reeling summit threats,
Allow it still to stand, till gently sweats
The noxious humour from its open veins,
And thus to distant times the wood remains.
The winter's vacant days; in Woods o'erthrow
Full many a neighbour Plane, by sounding strokes,
And widely prostrate lay the pond'rous Oaks,
Tall Ashes, Firs for dry duration fam'd,
And Beeches, hardly by the Joiner tam'd.
The waning moon, auspicious to the wound
Inflicted on the Poplar's trunk, is found;
And when the mangled tree has felt the breach
Within a little of its heart to reach,
Howe'er a fall its reeling summit threats,
Allow it still to stand, till gently sweats
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And thus to distant times the wood remains.
The stones to walls by fruitful earth deny'd,
Are amply by the Potter's fire supply'd;
He digs the viscous clay from level fields,
And soaks it soft in water, till it yields
To take the form his molds of holm prepare,
And dries it afterwards in open air.
The work commences when the sun descends
The Scales to visit, and with Autumn ends;
But takes its turn again, when Zephyrs chear
The misty sky, and Spring unlocks the year.
For Bricks, to dry, and keep their form intire,
A stronger heat, than Winter owns, require,
And gape in chinks, o'ercome by Summer's fire.
Are amply by the Potter's fire supply'd;
He digs the viscous clay from level fields,
And soaks it soft in water, till it yields
To take the form his molds of holm prepare,
And dries it afterwards in open air.
The work commences when the sun descends
The Scales to visit, and with Autumn ends;
But takes its turn again, when Zephyrs chear
The misty sky, and Spring unlocks the year.
For Bricks, to dry, and keep their form intire,
A stronger heat, than Winter owns, require,
And gape in chinks, o'ercome by Summer's fire.
Three days, to form the Lime, or four complete,
The kiln should glow with one continu'd heat,
Till, in the lower part, the stone has broke,
Nor yields a length of flame, involv'd in smoke.
The kiln should glow with one continu'd heat,
Till, in the lower part, the stone has broke,
Nor yields a length of flame, involv'd in smoke.
For various ends, of well-bak'd Lime, design'd,
Are various Stones in furnaces refin'd:
A softer sort the Plaisterer supplies,
And stubborn Flints the Mason exercise;
But best for use is that distinguish'd Sand,
That yields a sound, if squeez'd within the hand;
Nor lets white cloth, when shaken thence, retain
The least offensive speck of dirt or stain.
Are various Stones in furnaces refin'd:
A softer sort the Plaisterer supplies,
And stubborn Flints the Mason exercise;
But best for use is that distinguish'd Sand,
That yields a sound, if squeez'd within the hand;
Nor lets white cloth, when shaken thence, retain
The least offensive speck of dirt or stain.
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When these Provisions for a House are made,
Of proper depth be its Foundation laid,
Till Earth, reluctant to the delving toil,
Leaves no suspicion of a broken Soil:
Or if its Bottom proves alike unsound,
The Wall's fourth part be bury'd under ground:
Then fasten Oaken Piles, and o'er them place
A weight of Stones, the building's stable base.
Of proper depth be its Foundation laid,
Till Earth, reluctant to the delving toil,
Leaves no suspicion of a broken Soil:
Or if its Bottom proves alike unsound,
The Wall's fourth part be bury'd under ground:
Then fasten Oaken Piles, and o'er them place
A weight of Stones, the building's stable base.
Your Lodgings in a Southern Front extend;
For so, when Titan's Steeds Heav'n's height ascend,
His Rays in Summer shall the windows strike
With Heat rebated, and with Light oblique.
Again, when nearer Earth he drives the days,
The Winter shoots his horizontal rays,
And to your inmost rooms a warmth conveys.
For so, when Titan's Steeds Heav'n's height ascend,
His Rays in Summer shall the windows strike
With Heat rebated, and with Light oblique.
Again, when nearer Earth he drives the days,
The Winter shoots his horizontal rays,
And to your inmost rooms a warmth conveys.
They who now build in Country, or in Town,
With such a flood of Light the Structure drown,
That, fill'd with Windows of immod'rate size,
On Pillars more than Walls it seems to rise:
As made of Glass, the pompous trifles glare,
And none should venture to inhabit there,
But Men insensible to both Extremes
Of Winter's Frost, and Summer's piercing Beams:
For Summer with its Light transmits its heat,
And when resounding Winds December beat,
The Windows, curtain'd round, in vain unfold
Their linnen Vesture to repel the Cold.
So rear we splendid Fabricks, to be seen
With pleasure from without, but melt within
With Heat; or shake with Cold, at vast expence;
Renouncing Ease for vain Magnificence.
Thus Reason too in France submits to Use;
And, would Caprice the fashion introduce,
Our Fops for Paper would their Gold forsake,
And empty Names for solid Sterling take.
With such a flood of Light the Structure drown,
That, fill'd with Windows of immod'rate size,
On Pillars more than Walls it seems to rise:
As made of Glass, the pompous trifles glare,
And none should venture to inhabit there,
But Men insensible to both Extremes
Of Winter's Frost, and Summer's piercing Beams:
For Summer with its Light transmits its heat,
And when resounding Winds December beat,
The Windows, curtain'd round, in vain unfold
Their linnen Vesture to repel the Cold.
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With pleasure from without, but melt within
With Heat; or shake with Cold, at vast expence;
Renouncing Ease for vain Magnificence.
Thus Reason too in France submits to Use;
And, would Caprice the fashion introduce,
Our Fops for Paper would their Gold forsake,
And empty Names for solid Sterling take.
Not that I would discard the modern taste
In Cities shelter'd from the Southern blast;
But where the Fields his daring Pinions sweep,
Let us in view our sober Fathers keep,
Confining Houses to a middling share
Of Windows, large enough for Light and Air.
Nor let the rooms design'd for Sleep extend
A spacious Vista, to no useful end;
But still apart be lodg'd each welcome Guest,
Without Intruders to disturb his rest.
In Cities shelter'd from the Southern blast;
But where the Fields his daring Pinions sweep,
Let us in view our sober Fathers keep,
Confining Houses to a middling share
Of Windows, large enough for Light and Air.
Nor let the rooms design'd for Sleep extend
A spacious Vista, to no useful end;
But still apart be lodg'd each welcome Guest,
Without Intruders to disturb his rest.
When thus completely form'd your Lares stand,
The fruits of farming next your care demand.
And lest the Dogs, or Tools of rural toil,
Or ev'n the rich Productions of the Soil,
Should give the dainty Matron's eye distaste,
At distance be they from the Dwelling plac'd.
In moister Vaults secure your Wine from harm,
And let meridian Suns your Olives warm;
Your Apples ripe, and Pears, on straw dispos'd,
For Winter be in boarded rooms inclos'd.
For warm'd and dry'd by coals of mod'rate heat,
From Southern winds they take no soft'ning wet,
Nor wrinkled by the North their youthful hue forget.
Remember frequently the Fruit to view,
Removing with your hand the tainted few,
Lest Mouldiness from one amid the heap
Should o'er the whole with wide contagion creep.
The fruits of farming next your care demand.
And lest the Dogs, or Tools of rural toil,
Or ev'n the rich Productions of the Soil,
Should give the dainty Matron's eye distaste,
At distance be they from the Dwelling plac'd.
In moister Vaults secure your Wine from harm,
And let meridian Suns your Olives warm;
Your Apples ripe, and Pears, on straw dispos'd,
For Winter be in boarded rooms inclos'd.
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From Southern winds they take no soft'ning wet,
Nor wrinkled by the North their youthful hue forget.
Remember frequently the Fruit to view,
Removing with your hand the tainted few,
Lest Mouldiness from one amid the heap
Should o'er the whole with wide contagion creep.
The Barn, to Boreas open, should exclude
The hostile Storm by wat'ry Auster brew'd.
The middle of the Street a space supplies
By Builders fill'd with wealthy Granaries;
And Ceres, safely under-ground, before
The House's Entry, hides her golden store.
To beating Rain it bids defiance there,
And shuns the stroke of all-dissolving Air.
The hostile Storm by wat'ry Auster brew'd.
The middle of the Street a space supplies
By Builders fill'd with wealthy Granaries;
And Ceres, safely under-ground, before
The House's Entry, hides her golden store.
To beating Rain it bids defiance there,
And shuns the stroke of all-dissolving Air.
The Weazels, gnawing Corn, begin to stain
The Top; and o'er the heap he spreads the Bane,
Who winnows thro' full Barns the tainted Grain.
The Top; and o'er the heap he spreads the Bane,
Who winnows thro' full Barns the tainted Grain.
By Farmers be the roomy House preferr'd,
Nor want a Cell for him who tends the Herd;
A Cell the Shepherd claims with equal right:
The Stable, built impenetrably tight,
Should rise in all its strength, to keep aloof
The Show'rs injurious to the tender Hoof,
And screen its Tenants, lest of soaking Rain
The rotten Wall and sickly Beasts complain.
Let not the smoaky Lamp your Terror move,
Shut in a Nich, or hanging from above;
Nor should the Furnace which the housewife plies
With Fewel for her Bread, have leave to rise
Too near the Stable, lest the timber'd frame
Receive the heat, and kindle into flame.
Nor want a Cell for him who tends the Herd;
A Cell the Shepherd claims with equal right:
The Stable, built impenetrably tight,
Should rise in all its strength, to keep aloof
The Show'rs injurious to the tender Hoof,
And screen its Tenants, lest of soaking Rain
The rotten Wall and sickly Beasts complain.
Let not the smoaky Lamp your Terror move,
Shut in a Nich, or hanging from above;
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With Fewel for her Bread, have leave to rise
Too near the Stable, lest the timber'd frame
Receive the heat, and kindle into flame.
No greater Glee the husbandman can know,
Than spacious Kitchens, and their Hearths, bestow;
The Clowns promiscuous by a chearful fire
At evening from the day's fatigue respire;
Not that the rural office they suspend,
When the late Lamps their proper task befriend;
For Work convenient to be ply'd by night,
The Farmer leaves not to the Winter's light.
Than spacious Kitchens, and their Hearths, bestow;
The Clowns promiscuous by a chearful fire
At evening from the day's fatigue respire;
Not that the rural office they suspend,
When the late Lamps their proper task befriend;
For Work convenient to be ply'd by night,
The Farmer leaves not to the Winter's light.
When Supper ends, the Rustics here and there
Are seated; he who makes the Sheep his care,
The Goat-herd, Herdsman, sturdy as his charge,
The brawny Ditcher, and the Ploughman large:
The fruit that cleaves to boughs from Olives torn,
They pluck away, and clean the Fleeces shorn;
The Willow, slic'd in boiling water, makes
The Basket; for the Vine they sharpen stakes;
Nor more delight the Country Lasses feel,
Than thus attended at the twirling Wheel.
Are seated; he who makes the Sheep his care,
The Goat-herd, Herdsman, sturdy as his charge,
The brawny Ditcher, and the Ploughman large:
The fruit that cleaves to boughs from Olives torn,
They pluck away, and clean the Fleeces shorn;
The Willow, slic'd in boiling water, makes
The Basket; for the Vine they sharpen stakes;
Nor more delight the Country Lasses feel,
Than thus attended at the twirling Wheel.
For while, with lighted lamp, o'er all to keep
A watchful eye, and count the folded Sheep,
The Father of the family withdraws,
Nor Boys nor Daughter now his presence awes;
To good Menalcas she devotes her heart
With tender language, and delusive art:
Inveigled thus by wicked sneers, the Lout
Proceeds to blunder his attachment out;
And (singing, as he thinks) her mirth to move,
By hoarsly braying his derided Love.
Thus treated, in conceit, with high regard,
The Smut to daub him is by stealth prepar'd;
And naughty Thestilis, the more to grace
Her staring Dear, writes Fool upon his face:
For such there be who town and country round
The standing Buts of Ridicule are found;
On these unpunish'd you may freely play;
Like sluggish Oxen they the Goad obey,
And open scoffs with self-applause repay.
A watchful eye, and count the folded Sheep,
The Father of the family withdraws,
Nor Boys nor Daughter now his presence awes;
To good Menalcas she devotes her heart
With tender language, and delusive art:
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Proceeds to blunder his attachment out;
And (singing, as he thinks) her mirth to move,
By hoarsly braying his derided Love.
Thus treated, in conceit, with high regard,
The Smut to daub him is by stealth prepar'd;
And naughty Thestilis, the more to grace
Her staring Dear, writes Fool upon his face:
For such there be who town and country round
The standing Buts of Ridicule are found;
On these unpunish'd you may freely play;
Like sluggish Oxen they the Goad obey,
And open scoffs with self-applause repay.
The Farmer, who on oaken piles erects
A Hovel, thatch'd, before his door, protects
His Waggons there, and works upon the Wain,
And crooked Plough, unhurt by winter's rain.
A Hovel, thatch'd, before his door, protects
His Waggons there, and works upon the Wain,
And crooked Plough, unhurt by winter's rain.
An Inn for weary travellers prepare,
If frequent be the stage, and regular;
But lodge the needy in your own abode,
And take your chance to entertain a God.
While viler Brutes their eyes in coverts clos'd,
The hospitable Ancients interpos'd
In favour of their own unhappy kind,
Beneath their roofs secur'd from rain and wind;
Tho' fam'd examples had not then reveal'd
How often coarse attire a God conceal'd;
Nor was it known that Alms, sincerely giv'n,
Repay'd the Donor, and were crown'd with Heav'n.
If frequent be the stage, and regular;
But lodge the needy in your own abode,
And take your chance to entertain a God.
While viler Brutes their eyes in coverts clos'd,
The hospitable Ancients interpos'd
In favour of their own unhappy kind,
Beneath their roofs secur'd from rain and wind;
Tho' fam'd examples had not then reveal'd
How often coarse attire a God conceal'd;
195
Repay'd the Donor, and were crown'd with Heav'n.
Employ the Thresher near the house, that Corn
To speedy shelter may with ease be borne,
Forc'd from the husk in an unlucky hour,
When flatt'ring Skies discharge a sudden show'r.
To speedy shelter may with ease be borne,
Forc'd from the husk in an unlucky hour,
When flatt'ring Skies discharge a sudden show'r.
High be the Ground, and destitute of trees,
To draw from ev'ry point a gentle breeze;
By heavy Rollers smooth'd to knit the mold;
Or pitch'd with stones, eternally to hold.
For, yielding to the Flail, a softer vein
Of Earth would bury, or Dust soil the Grain.
To draw from ev'ry point a gentle breeze;
By heavy Rollers smooth'd to knit the mold;
Or pitch'd with stones, eternally to hold.
For, yielding to the Flail, a softer vein
Of Earth would bury, or Dust soil the Grain.
Provide two Ponds; the worst your Twigs to steep;
Another, clearer, for your Cattle keep
The gather'd Dirt, from house and stable thrown,
And scatter'd leaves from trees by tempests blown;
And Slime, by swelling streams unswept away,
To a wet ditch, remote from home, convey.
The Dung, defended by the water there,
Exhales not all its juice in empty air;
And, thicken'd thus, the Pool destroys the seeds
That else would flourish in offensive weeds.
Another, clearer, for your Cattle keep
The gather'd Dirt, from house and stable thrown,
And scatter'd leaves from trees by tempests blown;
And Slime, by swelling streams unswept away,
To a wet ditch, remote from home, convey.
The Dung, defended by the water there,
Exhales not all its juice in empty air;
And, thicken'd thus, the Pool destroys the seeds
That else would flourish in offensive weeds.
Whatever objects most the View delight,
Or the rapacious hand of theft invite,
Parterres and Orchards, near the Mansion plant,
Nor to the boist'rous North a barrier want;
But chuse a Wood to banish cold, repay'd,
When Sirius rages, by its spreading shade:
The shelt'ring Wood the hostile year disarms;
In Summer cools you, and in Winter warms.
Let Herbs from fruitful Vales their growth derive;
But stronger Olives on the hills should thrive:
On level Plains let waving Harvests bend,
Or spacious Meads a length of Green extend;
While rising Vines a distant prospect yield
To roving eyes, and terminate the field.
How many acres Prudence would assign
To Meadows, or to Corn, to Oil, or Wine,
The charge of farming, with its income weigh'd,
And labour, more or less, by gain repay'd,
Decide the Question; and consider still,
Not how the Barn, but how the Purse you fill.
Or the rapacious hand of theft invite,
Parterres and Orchards, near the Mansion plant,
Nor to the boist'rous North a barrier want;
But chuse a Wood to banish cold, repay'd,
When Sirius rages, by its spreading shade:
196
In Summer cools you, and in Winter warms.
Let Herbs from fruitful Vales their growth derive;
But stronger Olives on the hills should thrive:
On level Plains let waving Harvests bend,
Or spacious Meads a length of Green extend;
While rising Vines a distant prospect yield
To roving eyes, and terminate the field.
How many acres Prudence would assign
To Meadows, or to Corn, to Oil, or Wine,
The charge of farming, with its income weigh'd,
And labour, more or less, by gain repay'd,
Decide the Question; and consider still,
Not how the Barn, but how the Purse you fill.
The Soil should often by the plough be mov'd,
That Nature forms to be for Corn improv'd:
Part of its gift for Seed it claims again,
Nor always can from breach of faith refrain;
For either dire extremes of moist, or dry,
May kindly Suns, or nursing show'rs, deny;
Or labour may in vain the ground provoke,
Where barren Tares the fruitful harvest choak;
Or Hail may lodge it on its humble bed;
Or the dry Ear its loosen'd grains may shed.
That Nature forms to be for Corn improv'd:
Part of its gift for Seed it claims again,
Nor always can from breach of faith refrain;
For either dire extremes of moist, or dry,
May kindly Suns, or nursing show'rs, deny;
Or labour may in vain the ground provoke,
Where barren Tares the fruitful harvest choak;
Or Hail may lodge it on its humble bed;
Or the dry Ear its loosen'd grains may shed.
The Cost of Vines the gain sometimes may spend,
And Olives on uncertain chance depend;
Tho' help'd but slightly, they with vigour shoot;
Excess of frost or heat destroys the fruit.
The Flow'r, by vernal blasts infected, dies,
And on the ground the mournful ruin lies.
And Olives on uncertain chance depend;
Tho' help'd but slightly, they with vigour shoot;
Excess of frost or heat destroys the fruit.
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And on the ground the mournful ruin lies.
From these disasters safe, the Meadows dread
Nor blust'ring winds, nor skies with clouds o'erspread,
Nor biting cold, nor Summer's keener beams,
Cool'd by the Brook, when sluic'd in easy streams.
The Meadow's crop the least of labour asks,
And care, when once produc'd, no farther tasks;
But rais'd, profusely to enrich the swain,
Its harvest never is his only gain:
Its Hay supports the Winter; weary'd Steers,
And thriving Herds, its annual pasture chears;
Its dewy herbage forms a beauteous scene,
In fields of mingled Flow'rs, and lively Green;
Or heap'd at random, when in swaths it lies,
A yielding bed to weary limbs supplies;
Or with the ductile Stream its thirst allays,
Nor asks new Seed, a new increase to raise.
Nor blust'ring winds, nor skies with clouds o'erspread,
Nor biting cold, nor Summer's keener beams,
Cool'd by the Brook, when sluic'd in easy streams.
The Meadow's crop the least of labour asks,
And care, when once produc'd, no farther tasks;
But rais'd, profusely to enrich the swain,
Its harvest never is his only gain:
Its Hay supports the Winter; weary'd Steers,
And thriving Herds, its annual pasture chears;
Its dewy herbage forms a beauteous scene,
In fields of mingled Flow'rs, and lively Green;
Or heap'd at random, when in swaths it lies,
A yielding bed to weary limbs supplies;
Or with the ductile Stream its thirst allays,
Nor asks new Seed, a new increase to raise.
Mark then, ye Farmers, if no Ridge divides
The shelving field, nor Water swiftly glides
Adown its craggy precipice, nor stands
Pent in its bottom, nor subsides in sands;
Sow Vetches there, and Clover-grass, a treat,
To sickly appetite in Oxen, sweet;
Let Trefoil too the spacious acres share,
And flood the Meadows with unweary'd care;
Unless a soil, which water's aid disdains,
With native moisture its Produce sustains.
The shelving field, nor Water swiftly glides
Adown its craggy precipice, nor stands
Pent in its bottom, nor subsides in sands;
Sow Vetches there, and Clover-grass, a treat,
To sickly appetite in Oxen, sweet;
Let Trefoil too the spacious acres share,
And flood the Meadows with unweary'd care;
Unless a soil, which water's aid disdains,
With native moisture its Produce sustains.
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But whether you shall Grass or Corn postpone,
Studious of Olives, or of Vines, alone,
I venture not to say; the rural tribe
Of Natives, taught by use, can best describe
The place's genius, as 'tis hard to find
An Earth, to all the Fruits of farming, kind.
Studious of Olives, or of Vines, alone,
I venture not to say; the rural tribe
Of Natives, taught by use, can best describe
The place's genius, as 'tis hard to find
An Earth, to all the Fruits of farming, kind.
Gironne, beginning in a barren soil,
Beholds the nation ply Vulcanian toil;
With griping tongs they turn the glowing Steel,
And mountains, open laid, their store reveal;
Thro' fertile pastures roll'd, he views the Trees
Prepar'd for Apples, and the Milk for Cheese;
With wonder next thro' waving Wheat he strays,
And, last, the Vine on either shore surveys.
Beholds the nation ply Vulcanian toil;
With griping tongs they turn the glowing Steel,
And mountains, open laid, their store reveal;
Thro' fertile pastures roll'd, he views the Trees
Prepar'd for Apples, and the Milk for Cheese;
With wonder next thro' waving Wheat he strays,
And, last, the Vine on either shore surveys.
Whatever hopes your Avarice may move,
Indulge it not to fell your ancient Grove.
Observe the wheezing Englishman; beneath
His Coals' sulphureous weight he heaves to breathe;
Doom'd, at his cost, to tame the winter's blast
By Fossils, from unwholsome caverns cast;
And forc'd his wasting vitals to repair,
With balmy draughts of sweet Montpellier air.
Indulge it not to fell your ancient Grove.
Observe the wheezing Englishman; beneath
His Coals' sulphureous weight he heaves to breathe;
Doom'd, at his cost, to tame the winter's blast
By Fossils, from unwholsome caverns cast;
And forc'd his wasting vitals to repair,
With balmy draughts of sweet Montpellier air.
Health to thy own, illustrious City! lend,
And to a larger orb thy walls extend;
With costly Palaces thy suburbs grac'd,
And Gardens, scatter'd in so grand a taste,
As rivals ev'n Versailles, within thy verge be plac'd;
For so shall France, diseas'd, with thee respire,
When, stript of Wood to feed the kindly fire,
She draws the choaking fumes of Coal, alone,
And makes the short-breath'd Briton's bane her own,
If they, to whose regard the Groves belong,
Their province slighting, should the Public wrong.
And to a larger orb thy walls extend;
With costly Palaces thy suburbs grac'd,
And Gardens, scatter'd in so grand a taste,
As rivals ev'n Versailles, within thy verge be plac'd;
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When, stript of Wood to feed the kindly fire,
She draws the choaking fumes of Coal, alone,
And makes the short-breath'd Briton's bane her own,
If they, to whose regard the Groves belong,
Their province slighting, should the Public wrong.
Ships for the Sea, and Timber for the House,
Logs for the Hearth, and for the Bullocks Ploughs,
The Grove, by custom, and of right, allows;
But to our grandsons let the shade survive,
That we from our progenitors derive.
Logs for the Hearth, and for the Bullocks Ploughs,
The Grove, by custom, and of right, allows;
But to our grandsons let the shade survive,
That we from our progenitors derive.
Oh! where are now the widely spreading trees,
Our cares to solace, and our studies ease?
Those ancient Oaks, by our Campania prais'd,
While tow'ring near Tholouse their heads they rais'd!
We weep ev'n now, and point to ev'ry guest
The dear retirement, where we once were blest;
For near that Villa, whose distress we mourn,
We saw a verdant Grove the place adorn;
O'er run with brambles now, and thick with thorn.
The Country's Lover, and a Poet too,
May be indulg'd a grief so justly due;
And Memory, at least, preserve in store
Delights, alas! to be renew'd no more.
My fancy new-creates the gloomy maze,
And, wand'ring thro' it, still my friends surveys.
Some, in the secret shade, their Maker's law
Devoutly ponder; and intently draw.
Celestial lessons from the depth of thought;
Or duties, by their holy Function taught,
In murmurs of religious length pursue;
And pious vows, and daily pray'rs, renew.
And many, tir'd with toil, are stretch'd along,
Beneath the spreading Oak; the native song
Of warbling birds the list'ning Bard invites;
The grateful Bard th' attentive birds requites;
And tuneful numbers of his own succeed,
Grac'd by his voice, or more enchanting reed.
Another's heavy eyes to sleep restore
The hours, usurp'd by Books the night before.
Our cares to solace, and our studies ease?
Those ancient Oaks, by our Campania prais'd,
While tow'ring near Tholouse their heads they rais'd!
We weep ev'n now, and point to ev'ry guest
The dear retirement, where we once were blest;
For near that Villa, whose distress we mourn,
We saw a verdant Grove the place adorn;
O'er run with brambles now, and thick with thorn.
The Country's Lover, and a Poet too,
May be indulg'd a grief so justly due;
And Memory, at least, preserve in store
Delights, alas! to be renew'd no more.
My fancy new-creates the gloomy maze,
And, wand'ring thro' it, still my friends surveys.
200
Devoutly ponder; and intently draw.
Celestial lessons from the depth of thought;
Or duties, by their holy Function taught,
In murmurs of religious length pursue;
And pious vows, and daily pray'rs, renew.
And many, tir'd with toil, are stretch'd along,
Beneath the spreading Oak; the native song
Of warbling birds the list'ning Bard invites;
The grateful Bard th' attentive birds requites;
And tuneful numbers of his own succeed,
Grac'd by his voice, or more enchanting reed.
Another's heavy eyes to sleep restore
The hours, usurp'd by Books the night before.
A place that, bare of trees, admits a screen
Of ambient Oaks, affords a livelier scene;
Four wooden borders, rais'd by workmen round,
An area, mark'd with four partitions, bound:
To knit the soil, the sprinkled sand they fling,
And in the centre stands a brazen ring,
Thro' which, if fairly sped, with dextrous force,
A boxen ball explores its scanty course;
Or farther than the barricado flies;
To you, from seats that o'er each other rise,
Spectators, shouting loud, adjudge the prize.
Of ambient Oaks, affords a livelier scene;
Four wooden borders, rais'd by workmen round,
An area, mark'd with four partitions, bound:
To knit the soil, the sprinkled sand they fling,
And in the centre stands a brazen ring,
Thro' which, if fairly sped, with dextrous force,
A boxen ball explores its scanty course;
Or farther than the barricado flies;
To you, from seats that o'er each other rise,
Spectators, shouting loud, adjudge the prize.
Thus, therefore, such as relish active sport,
To combat, arm'd with iron clubs, resort:
The Balls are ply'd with vigour and address,
While echoing Groves the sturdy strokes confess.
Refreshment thus in change of toil they find,
And labour of the limbs relieves the mind.
Nor less the Scholar's taste the Wood supplies;
Afriend to reading, as to exercise:
If in his breast the God of Numbers reigns,
He borrows thence his most exalted strains;
Or has he Language to enrich his Sense,
And charm the croud with flowing Eloquence,
The Beach's rural shade performs its part;
In silence of the Grove he learns his art,
To thunder Truth, and melt the guilty heart.
To combat, arm'd with iron clubs, resort:
201
While echoing Groves the sturdy strokes confess.
Refreshment thus in change of toil they find,
And labour of the limbs relieves the mind.
Nor less the Scholar's taste the Wood supplies;
Afriend to reading, as to exercise:
If in his breast the God of Numbers reigns,
He borrows thence his most exalted strains;
Or has he Language to enrich his Sense,
And charm the croud with flowing Eloquence,
The Beach's rural shade performs its part;
In silence of the Grove he learns his art,
To thunder Truth, and melt the guilty heart.
Here you, Le Clerc, with fame and laurel crown'd,
A Muse indulgent to your genius sound:
Tholouse admir'd you, and distinguish'd long,
With prizes often gain'd, for Wit and Song.
That fund exhausted now by you, she owns;
But Praise more precious still for Gold atones,
And, call'd to her Aonian choir, you may
Adjust her gifts, new Poets to repay.
A Muse indulgent to your genius sound:
Tholouse admir'd you, and distinguish'd long,
With prizes often gain'd, for Wit and Song.
That fund exhausted now by you, she owns;
But Praise more precious still for Gold atones,
And, call'd to her Aonian choir, you may
Adjust her gifts, new Poets to repay.
Can I forget how longingly I hung,
Pleas'd and surpris'd, on that inchanting tongue?
Whether, amid the gloom of shady trees,
You trod the steps of buskin'd Sophocles;
Or Humour banish'd Gravity, and dress'd
Facetious Terence in your country's vest;
Or Speeches of your own, discreetly bold,
In rapid periods, like a torrent, roll'd.
When, in mid-autumn, you prepar'd the voice,
That bad a long-deserted town rejoice,
As hither lur'd by you, the world disdains
The tasteless pleasure now of fields and plains.
Pleas'd and surpris'd, on that inchanting tongue?
Whether, amid the gloom of shady trees,
You trod the steps of buskin'd Sophocles;
202
Facetious Terence in your country's vest;
Or Speeches of your own, discreetly bold,
In rapid periods, like a torrent, roll'd.
When, in mid-autumn, you prepar'd the voice,
That bad a long-deserted town rejoice,
As hither lur'd by you, the world disdains
The tasteless pleasure now of fields and plains.
You joy'd to wander thro' the wood with Me,
Or sit beneath our ancient Chestnut-tree:
Rock'd on the boughs we saw the feather'd kind;
The Nuts, and zephyr-trembling shade combin'd
To paint a Fountain, in whose glassy face
The same delicious scene renew'd its grace:
A downward tree, expressing that above,
With imitative leaves appear'd to move:
The Chestnuts pointed to the nether skies;
Nor could it be distinguish'd by our eyes,
If living Birds the stream below display'd,
Or Shadows only o'er its surface stray'd.
Or sit beneath our ancient Chestnut-tree:
Rock'd on the boughs we saw the feather'd kind;
The Nuts, and zephyr-trembling shade combin'd
To paint a Fountain, in whose glassy face
The same delicious scene renew'd its grace:
A downward tree, expressing that above,
With imitative leaves appear'd to move:
The Chestnuts pointed to the nether skies;
Nor could it be distinguish'd by our eyes,
If living Birds the stream below display'd,
Or Shadows only o'er its surface stray'd.
You aided here my Muse's first essays;
Approv'd, but bad me file her rugged lays:
And tho' your praise, more widely to disperse,
Would better suit your own exalted Verse,
Let mine, revis'd by you, your name rehearse.
For silence here my gratitude would shame;
Nor could I shew a just regard for fame;
Should I the glory of my youth resign,
And wave its early right to stile you mine.
Approv'd, but bad me file her rugged lays:
And tho' your praise, more widely to disperse,
Would better suit your own exalted Verse,
Let mine, revis'd by you, your name rehearse.
For silence here my gratitude would shame;
Nor could I shew a just regard for fame;
203
And wave its early right to stile you mine.
And you, Capistron, equally belov'd,
Your shining talents here alike improv'd;
The seeds of Learning in these shades prepar'd,
To classic fame your noble genius rear'd.
Whether in tragic strains you raise your voice,
And greatly emulate your Brother's choice;
Or tune the Reed, and string the Lyre; or try
The Gallic Wit, or Roman Majesty;
In each superior language you excel;
The purple Senate on your accents dwell:
The Many your attractive Song pursue,
And triumph in a citizen like you.
Your shining talents here alike improv'd;
The seeds of Learning in these shades prepar'd,
To classic fame your noble genius rear'd.
Whether in tragic strains you raise your voice,
And greatly emulate your Brother's choice;
Or tune the Reed, and string the Lyre; or try
The Gallic Wit, or Roman Majesty;
In each superior language you excel;
The purple Senate on your accents dwell:
The Many your attractive Song pursue,
And triumph in a citizen like you.
Here you, Belot, became my dear concern:
I taught you once, and now from you would learn.
In these sequestred woods your Youth was try'd,
And sparkled out, and blaz'd on ev'ry side;
Suspended in its choice of various ways
To reach the heights of Science, and of Praise.
For whether you at sacred altars shone,
Or claim'd the Laurel (which I thought my own),
By better verse than mine, the public voice,
And deep attention, crown'd your present choice.
With equal fame you soar in deathless Song,
And, high in pulpits, shake the list'ning throng:
Taught by your sacred Oratory's light,
To clear the Faith from its surrounding night;
When half a thousand hear the righteous lore,
And much your Voice, your Life instructs them more.
The woodland shades, that nourish'd wits so rare,
Where are they now? The silent coverts where?
Parnassus rung the wood's departing knell
With heavy murmurs, just before it fell.
I taught you once, and now from you would learn.
In these sequestred woods your Youth was try'd,
And sparkled out, and blaz'd on ev'ry side;
Suspended in its choice of various ways
To reach the heights of Science, and of Praise.
For whether you at sacred altars shone,
Or claim'd the Laurel (which I thought my own),
By better verse than mine, the public voice,
And deep attention, crown'd your present choice.
With equal fame you soar in deathless Song,
And, high in pulpits, shake the list'ning throng:
Taught by your sacred Oratory's light,
To clear the Faith from its surrounding night;
204
And much your Voice, your Life instructs them more.
The woodland shades, that nourish'd wits so rare,
Where are they now? The silent coverts where?
Parnassus rung the wood's departing knell
With heavy murmurs, just before it fell.
But Verse, in vain, with cruel axes strove,
Like Orpheus, tho' Morgues had pow'r to move:
Too justly warm'd, such havock to deplore
He had his Harp; but Oaks had Ears no more!
Yet dying groans, at least, were still allow'd;
And those they yielded, when to steel they bow'd.
They oft had cool'd us with their friendly shade,
And begg'd, or seem'd to beg, our grateful aid.
We came; and, as in fighting fields, o'erspread
With prostrate Leaders and th' illustrious Dead,
The squalid carcases offend our eyes,
And livid wounds the well-known face disguise;
And secret horror strikes the soul, to see
Their gaping jaws and grim deformity;
So far'd the friends of this devoted wood,
That, large and lofty, long its foes withstood:
With rival grief we all beheld it yield
To ruthless steel, and stretch'd along the field!
Lopp'd from the trunk, its arms and branches lay,
When, stor'd for Fire, they soon became its prey;
And, set apart, assum'd a paler hue,
As if their doleful destiny they knew.
Like Orpheus, tho' Morgues had pow'r to move:
Too justly warm'd, such havock to deplore
He had his Harp; but Oaks had Ears no more!
Yet dying groans, at least, were still allow'd;
And those they yielded, when to steel they bow'd.
They oft had cool'd us with their friendly shade,
And begg'd, or seem'd to beg, our grateful aid.
We came; and, as in fighting fields, o'erspread
With prostrate Leaders and th' illustrious Dead,
The squalid carcases offend our eyes,
And livid wounds the well-known face disguise;
And secret horror strikes the soul, to see
Their gaping jaws and grim deformity;
So far'd the friends of this devoted wood,
That, large and lofty, long its foes withstood:
With rival grief we all beheld it yield
To ruthless steel, and stretch'd along the field!
Lopp'd from the trunk, its arms and branches lay,
When, stor'd for Fire, they soon became its prey;
And, set apart, assum'd a paler hue,
As if their doleful destiny they knew.
205
Ah! poor Campania, of thy Grove bereft,
How naked and forlorn thy fields are left!
Ah! how unlike themselves! so wide a waste
Has Want committed in a Wood so vast;
That, craving War with fewel to supply,
Her Joys are perish'd, and her Dryads fly!
The same distress compels returns of grain
From fields obedient now to sordid gain;
The garden's foe, the greedy ploughshare, beats
The tow'r-supporting walls of ancient seats.
Our Elms, to dire necessity a prey,
No longer strike us with their fair array;
And costly Shade, supply'd by distant lands,
Less frequent now the Summer Suns withstands.
How naked and forlorn thy fields are left!
Ah! how unlike themselves! so wide a waste
Has Want committed in a Wood so vast;
That, craving War with fewel to supply,
Her Joys are perish'd, and her Dryads fly!
The same distress compels returns of grain
From fields obedient now to sordid gain;
The garden's foe, the greedy ploughshare, beats
The tow'r-supporting walls of ancient seats.
Our Elms, to dire necessity a prey,
No longer strike us with their fair array;
And costly Shade, supply'd by distant lands,
Less frequent now the Summer Suns withstands.
Where Elms at equal distances were seen,
To shelter all beneath, a Walk, between
The Vines extended, all its Trees has lost,
And verdure only in its turf can boast;
And, if a solitary Trunk survives,
Or scanty Shrub with native vigour thrives,
Its Shade so short of that, in which before
At large we wander'd, makes our sorrow more.
To shelter all beneath, a Walk, between
The Vines extended, all its Trees has lost,
And verdure only in its turf can boast;
And, if a solitary Trunk survives,
Or scanty Shrub with native vigour thrives,
Its Shade so short of that, in which before
At large we wander'd, makes our sorrow more.
In vain the Pear-tree and the Box demand,
To trim them into shape, the yearly hand;
Luxuriant now the straggling Boughs they rear;
And Gardens, us'd our Flow'rs and Greens to bear,
The Barley, destin'd for the Steed, prepare.
To trim them into shape, the yearly hand;
Luxuriant now the straggling Boughs they rear;
And Gardens, us'd our Flow'rs and Greens to bear,
The Barley, destin'd for the Steed, prepare.
206
In silence creeping from the distant source,
Thro' ev'ry field, with now unheeded course
The Waters stray; that once, by pipes compell'd,
To various forms in sportive sallies swell'd.
The wonders of the twisted Stream we saw,
When darted from a Whale, or Lion's jaw;
Degraded wholly to a rustic use,
It waters now the kitchen ground's Produce.
The Whale, or Lion, in his mouth receives
Ignobler Inmates now; the Spider weaves
The Cobweb frequent there; and feather'd guests
Contrive to screen their clay-erected nests.
Thro' ev'ry field, with now unheeded course
The Waters stray; that once, by pipes compell'd,
To various forms in sportive sallies swell'd.
The wonders of the twisted Stream we saw,
When darted from a Whale, or Lion's jaw;
Degraded wholly to a rustic use,
It waters now the kitchen ground's Produce.
The Whale, or Lion, in his mouth receives
Ignobler Inmates now; the Spider weaves
The Cobweb frequent there; and feather'd guests
Contrive to screen their clay-erected nests.
The happy field by Springs of old was fed,
And Nature lodg'd them in an ample bed:
Round painted Meadows in a boat we stray'd,
And guileful nets for hungry fishes laid;
Or, doubly cool'd by Stream and Shade, could shun
Beneath a verdant tree the parching Sun.
Alas! the Boat, condemn'd to chimney fires,
Perhaps in smoak with venal wood expires!
On the known bank I sat ere while, to find
The Trout, the fairest of the river kind,
Oft swimming to me; with his eyes he sought,
And wagging tail, the bread and fruit I brought.
In water, now defil'd, no more he breathes,
But to the croaking Frog its mud bequeaths;
Their Peacock fled away, the Courts lament,
Abandon'd to the Hen's offensive scent.
The Doves, so fond in neat abodes to dwell,
Bid all at once the triple tow'r farewel;
And hooting Owls, or Mice, a noisome race,
The marble-pillar'd edifice disgrace.
And Nature lodg'd them in an ample bed:
Round painted Meadows in a boat we stray'd,
And guileful nets for hungry fishes laid;
Or, doubly cool'd by Stream and Shade, could shun
Beneath a verdant tree the parching Sun.
Alas! the Boat, condemn'd to chimney fires,
Perhaps in smoak with venal wood expires!
On the known bank I sat ere while, to find
The Trout, the fairest of the river kind,
Oft swimming to me; with his eyes he sought,
And wagging tail, the bread and fruit I brought.
In water, now defil'd, no more he breathes,
But to the croaking Frog its mud bequeaths;
Their Peacock fled away, the Courts lament,
Abandon'd to the Hen's offensive scent.
207
Bid all at once the triple tow'r farewel;
And hooting Owls, or Mice, a noisome race,
The marble-pillar'd edifice disgrace.
We too had sought in neighb'ring Villas ease;
But how, like ours, could neighbour Villas please!
Campania, left in so forlorn a plight,
And stript of all embellishments, in spite
Of her penurious Lords, must still delight.
Her genuine graces vie with Art and Care,
Entirely rural, yet supremely fair.
But how, like ours, could neighbour Villas please!
Campania, left in so forlorn a plight,
And stript of all embellishments, in spite
Of her penurious Lords, must still delight.
Her genuine graces vie with Art and Care,
Entirely rural, yet supremely fair.
The Man whom Nature in undress can charm,
Would chuse to purchase such another Farm;
Where Situation, by a happy chance,
The prudent Owner shall to wealth advance;
And Fountains from their never-failing vein,
With sure abundance bless the fertile plain.
Would chuse to purchase such another Farm;
Where Situation, by a happy chance,
The prudent Owner shall to wealth advance;
And Fountains from their never-failing vein,
With sure abundance bless the fertile plain.
But Art, Lamoignon, your Cursoman seat,
Has form'd, in Garden, Water, House, compleat;
The soil in Orchards rich, and Groves, and Flow'rs,
And spacious Avenues, and lofty Tow'rs.
But most the Mind, sagacious to pursue
A plan so just, and comprehensive too,
That Master-workman, we admire in You!
The distant prospect opens with surprize,
And one promiscuous Scene inchants our eyes;
Its first appearance dwells upon the sense,
Caught with a taste of rural excellence.
But when the outer Courts the House displays,
And on it thence, or on the fields, we gaze,
Alternate views divide the doubtful heart
Between the charms of Nature and of Art,
In breathing marble wrought, we most admire
Yours, shall I say; or France's common Site?
And silent, with religious love behold
The face which Themis chose to wear of old,
When she, the guardian pow'r that rapine awes,
Rejoic'd the Kingdom with unerring laws.
Has form'd, in Garden, Water, House, compleat;
The soil in Orchards rich, and Groves, and Flow'rs,
And spacious Avenues, and lofty Tow'rs.
But most the Mind, sagacious to pursue
A plan so just, and comprehensive too,
That Master-workman, we admire in You!
The distant prospect opens with surprize,
And one promiscuous Scene inchants our eyes;
Its first appearance dwells upon the sense,
Caught with a taste of rural excellence.
208
And on it thence, or on the fields, we gaze,
Alternate views divide the doubtful heart
Between the charms of Nature and of Art,
In breathing marble wrought, we most admire
Yours, shall I say; or France's common Site?
And silent, with religious love behold
The face which Themis chose to wear of old,
When she, the guardian pow'r that rapine awes,
Rejoic'd the Kingdom with unerring laws.
To fashion marble into man, or trace
With animating touch a painted face,
That God-like Art, in polish'd times ador'd,
And now by You to ancient fame restor'd,
Prepares her Patron's Image, to approve
To late posterity her grateful love.
And tho' your Father's never-dying name
May spare the marble's monumental fame,
Your filial love his statue too design'd,
That thus by Skill, with Piety combin'd,
The Sculptor might immortalize in One,
The venerable Sire, and duteous Son.
With animating touch a painted face,
That God-like Art, in polish'd times ador'd,
And now by You to ancient fame restor'd,
Prepares her Patron's Image, to approve
To late posterity her grateful love.
And tho' your Father's never-dying name
May spare the marble's monumental fame,
Your filial love his statue too design'd,
That thus by Skill, with Piety combin'd,
The Sculptor might immortalize in One,
The venerable Sire, and duteous Son.
But countless wonders more by turns invite,
To trace the blissful fields, our steps or sight;
Which tir'd, when roving o'er too large a space,
Is bounded by the Genius of the place,
Where leaning hills have form'd an ambient chain,
By Bacchus, clad in green, or white with grain.
And here, within our eyes Survey inclos'd,
Has Nature's prodigality expos'd
The choice productions of her various pride;
More thinly dealt to all the world beside.
No House a Grandeur e'er like yours display'd,
By haughty ostentatation unallay'd;
Such splendor in simplicity array'd.
No other Oaks such heads in Groves erect,
Form those recesses, or that shade project;
Your Trees, obsequious to the pruning hand,
Supreme in fruit and graceful beauty stand.
No rival Walls so elegantly rear
The twisted Fig, or court the clinging Pear;
Nor elsewhere Flow'rs in ranks so goodly blow,
Or Herbs in Gardens form a richer show;
Tho', far from You, the Soil its treasure pours
With less profusion on the Trees and Flow'rs:
For as the place engages Your desire;
Its tenants, You with equal love require.
But let it be their comfort, to survey
A Son, who follows where you lead the way;
In Office near, in Merit nearer still,
Your heart to glad, your functions to fulfil:
Your Image, fresh in Him, your room supplies,
Relieves their toil, and feasts their ravish'd eyes.
To trace the blissful fields, our steps or sight;
Which tir'd, when roving o'er too large a space,
Is bounded by the Genius of the place,
Where leaning hills have form'd an ambient chain,
By Bacchus, clad in green, or white with grain.
209
Has Nature's prodigality expos'd
The choice productions of her various pride;
More thinly dealt to all the world beside.
No House a Grandeur e'er like yours display'd,
By haughty ostentatation unallay'd;
Such splendor in simplicity array'd.
No other Oaks such heads in Groves erect,
Form those recesses, or that shade project;
Your Trees, obsequious to the pruning hand,
Supreme in fruit and graceful beauty stand.
No rival Walls so elegantly rear
The twisted Fig, or court the clinging Pear;
Nor elsewhere Flow'rs in ranks so goodly blow,
Or Herbs in Gardens form a richer show;
Tho', far from You, the Soil its treasure pours
With less profusion on the Trees and Flow'rs:
For as the place engages Your desire;
Its tenants, You with equal love require.
But let it be their comfort, to survey
A Son, who follows where you lead the way;
In Office near, in Merit nearer still,
Your heart to glad, your functions to fulfil:
Your Image, fresh in Him, your room supplies,
Relieves their toil, and feasts their ravish'd eyes.
And You, so fond of that delicious Seat,
From Paris and from Care a near retreat,
Subdue the dear temptation; and forbear
Too often to indulge your longings there;
A public Blessing to the People lent,
And to the King, defeat not Heav'n's intent;
Time, not your own, to long repose you give,
And rob the World, if to Yourself you live!
From Paris and from Care a near retreat,
210
Too often to indulge your longings there;
A public Blessing to the People lent,
And to the King, defeat not Heav'n's intent;
Time, not your own, to long repose you give,
And rob the World, if to Yourself you live!
Not far from Beziers, near the Village of Dumont, the Romans drained a Lake, by digging through the same Mountain, which has been since opened by Riquet, the immortal Contriver of the Royal Canal, to carry on the Navigation of Ships even under ground.
Among other Miracles of the Royal Canal, we meet with three excelling the rest, and not far from each other. First, its Waters pass over a River, upon Bridges thrown across it; in the next place, they penetrate the Mountain, dug through to make way for them; and lastly, they are prevented from falling down a Precipice, by works of immense Labour, which afford Ships of Burthen an easy Descent from the Mountain.
They are admitted into the University of Tholouse by gaining three prizes; whereas Father Le Clerc had, at that time, been honoured with eight.
400
The Conclusion of the Fifth Book.
Near my Beziers, where Orb to smooth his course
Begins; o'er craggy mountains, from his source
Rushing before; yet trembling with the way;
But, here delighted, with a fond delay,
Enjoys the fruitful fields, and balmy air;
Well I remember with what anxious care
One who without a rival sure might claim
A lover of the country's humble name,
Nurtur'd his trees, and watch'd each tender shoot;
With happiest Union grafted various fruit,
And lopp'd the Citrons with his pruner's hook,
While from the ground the verdant boughs I took;
And, hast'ning home, convey'd with earnest toil,
In crouded infant arms, my fragrant spoil.
Can I forget what fruit alternate stor'd
The bending trees; or how his Citrons soar'd
Tall as his Olives; and, on one rich bough
Glow'd the ripe Orange midst the blossom'd snow?
Begins; o'er craggy mountains, from his source
Rushing before; yet trembling with the way;
But, here delighted, with a fond delay,
401
Well I remember with what anxious care
One who without a rival sure might claim
A lover of the country's humble name,
Nurtur'd his trees, and watch'd each tender shoot;
With happiest Union grafted various fruit,
And lopp'd the Citrons with his pruner's hook,
While from the ground the verdant boughs I took;
And, hast'ning home, convey'd with earnest toil,
In crouded infant arms, my fragrant spoil.
Can I forget what fruit alternate stor'd
The bending trees; or how his Citrons soar'd
Tall as his Olives; and, on one rich bough
Glow'd the ripe Orange midst the blossom'd snow?
Such was my Sire, now long to death consign'd;
But still his lov'd idea charms my mind;
And, with his Virtues grav'd upon my heart,
(Better for me to copy than impart)
I envy none, not ev'n a Royal race;
Such high regard on Piety I place,
On pure simplicity of life; a breast
Steel'd against bribes, by naked truth possess'd,
And with a spotless rigid conscience blest.
But still his lov'd idea charms my mind;
And, with his Virtues grav'd upon my heart,
(Better for me to copy than impart)
I envy none, not ev'n a Royal race;
Such high regard on Piety I place,
On pure simplicity of life; a breast
Steel'd against bribes, by naked truth possess'd,
And with a spotless rigid conscience blest.
With joy I oft recal his social door,
For ever crouded with the welcome poor:
So well his heart did all the village know,
Humane to feel, and gen'rous to bestow;
That when they heard a traveller inquire
Late for an inn, they sent him to my Sire:
For there the poor, the lost, were sure to meet
(As founded for themselves) a warm retreat.
For ever crouded with the welcome poor:
So well his heart did all the village know,
Humane to feel, and gen'rous to bestow;
That when they heard a traveller inquire
Late for an inn, they sent him to my Sire:
For there the poor, the lost, were sure to meet
(As founded for themselves) a warm retreat.
Hail, dearest Parent! you who taught the Hind
Midst rural cares to cultivate his mind,
That far from proud ambition I remove,
And to these humble fields confine my love,
Rejoice, if still my welfare you regard:
By your instructions form'd, the wish'd reward
Of all my toils I here securely gain,
The blameless pleasures of the rural plain.
Grateful to me was once the voice of praise,
Because it chear'd the ev'ning of your days:
Unshar'd by You, no more it claims my care;
Less balmy now is ev'n my native air;
No joys the Country in your absence gives,
Save that your name in their remembrance lives;
That through the grateful town, by ev'ry tongue,
When I appear, your praises still are sung;
That all with me lament; with me require,
Their Friend, their Guardian, and their common Sire.
Midst rural cares to cultivate his mind,
402
And to these humble fields confine my love,
Rejoice, if still my welfare you regard:
By your instructions form'd, the wish'd reward
Of all my toils I here securely gain,
The blameless pleasures of the rural plain.
Grateful to me was once the voice of praise,
Because it chear'd the ev'ning of your days:
Unshar'd by You, no more it claims my care;
Less balmy now is ev'n my native air;
No joys the Country in your absence gives,
Save that your name in their remembrance lives;
That through the grateful town, by ev'ry tongue,
When I appear, your praises still are sung;
That all with me lament; with me require,
Their Friend, their Guardian, and their common Sire.
BOOK XIII.
The ARGUMENT.
He lays down rules for building and preparing a Dove-house; enumerates their various species; the manner of feeding and preserving them; their Genius, Hospitality, parental and conjugal Affection; concluding with an agreeable Story of a Metamorphosis, after the manner of Ovid.
What Fabric best accommodates the Doves,
What Diet strengthens, and what Care improves;
The Bent and Manners of the gentle race,
A task, Lamoignon, set by You, I trace.
While I with pain my slender Theme pursue,
The weight of public care fatigues not You;
And, equal to Imperial Toil, alone,
You seem to make our Monarch's praise your own.
In You his talents by reflexion shine,
Superior sense, and majesty divine.
Yet now, descending from the rank you bear
To rural trifles, crown your Poet's pray'r,
By living long, and like Lamoignon still;
The rest a gracious Master shall fulfil,
And Justice, on the Throne, unask'd, bestow
All that a King can to a subject owe.
What Diet strengthens, and what Care improves;
The Bent and Manners of the gentle race,
A task, Lamoignon, set by You, I trace.
While I with pain my slender Theme pursue,
The weight of public care fatigues not You;
And, equal to Imperial Toil, alone,
You seem to make our Monarch's praise your own.
In You his talents by reflexion shine,
Superior sense, and majesty divine.
Yet now, descending from the rank you bear
To rural trifles, crown your Poet's pray'r,
211
The rest a gracious Master shall fulfil,
And Justice, on the Throne, unask'd, bestow
All that a King can to a subject owe.
For Pigeons chuse an unfrequented ground,
And, far from Town or House, their dwelling found,
Lest noise disturb them; or the Mouse by stealth
Ascend the Nest, and prey upon their wealth;
And home from feed the Mother-Doves repair
To brood on empty Eggs with fruitless care.
Nor less the Woods disgust th' Idalian kind,
Or neighb'ring Streams; for Woods the prospect blind,
And shady Boughs the Robber Hawk defend;
And, when the storms from Southern Skies descend,
With restless roar the shudd'ring branches bend.
The Rivers noisy course offends the ear;
And, if with worse event it flows too near,
Its kindly temper prompts the flock to lave
Their thirsty Pinions in the limpid Wave;
Fresh from the Bath they instantly retreat,
To chear their cooling Eggs with wonted heat;
Their bosoms moisten'd, yield the heat no more,
But quench the vital flame they fed before.
And, far from Town or House, their dwelling found,
Lest noise disturb them; or the Mouse by stealth
Ascend the Nest, and prey upon their wealth;
And home from feed the Mother-Doves repair
To brood on empty Eggs with fruitless care.
Nor less the Woods disgust th' Idalian kind,
Or neighb'ring Streams; for Woods the prospect blind,
And shady Boughs the Robber Hawk defend;
And, when the storms from Southern Skies descend,
With restless roar the shudd'ring branches bend.
The Rivers noisy course offends the ear;
And, if with worse event it flows too near,
Its kindly temper prompts the flock to lave
Their thirsty Pinions in the limpid Wave;
Fresh from the Bath they instantly retreat,
To chear their cooling Eggs with wonted heat;
Their bosoms moisten'd, yield the heat no more,
But quench the vital flame they fed before.
Where, gently swelling by degrees, the ground
Commands a prospect o'er the fields around,
Array'd by Bacchus, or with Harvests fair,
There lodge the Doves; for most they flourish there.
On Marble Columns let the structure rise;
If Marble fails, let common Stone suffice;
Provided Plates of slipp'ry Tin restrain
The Vermin, lab'ring up the wall in vain.
Erect the building of a large extent,
For Pigeons droop, in narrow limits pent.
But lest their infant eyes the callow young
Should injure, looking at a light too strong,
Two Windows of a mod'rate size admit
The rays of Phœbus in proportion fit.
In Winter, one to front his mid-day flame;
But crown the Roof with one of wider frame.
A Lattice, like a Sieve, for each prepar'd,
From hungry Kites the Citadel should guard.
A Ring of Stones, around the wall, may prove
Of use, where Winter Suns indulge the Dove,
At ease his straggling Feathers to replace:
The lofty Lodge with chalky Plaister grace;
For Pigeons, chiefly gay in light attire,
The same clean colour in their Walls admire:
The Glories of a Court their Bosoms warm,
And white Apartments by their beauty charm.
Commands a prospect o'er the fields around,
Array'd by Bacchus, or with Harvests fair,
There lodge the Doves; for most they flourish there.
212
If Marble fails, let common Stone suffice;
Provided Plates of slipp'ry Tin restrain
The Vermin, lab'ring up the wall in vain.
Erect the building of a large extent,
For Pigeons droop, in narrow limits pent.
But lest their infant eyes the callow young
Should injure, looking at a light too strong,
Two Windows of a mod'rate size admit
The rays of Phœbus in proportion fit.
In Winter, one to front his mid-day flame;
But crown the Roof with one of wider frame.
A Lattice, like a Sieve, for each prepar'd,
From hungry Kites the Citadel should guard.
A Ring of Stones, around the wall, may prove
Of use, where Winter Suns indulge the Dove,
At ease his straggling Feathers to replace:
The lofty Lodge with chalky Plaister grace;
For Pigeons, chiefly gay in light attire,
The same clean colour in their Walls admire:
The Glories of a Court their Bosoms warm,
And white Apartments by their beauty charm.
But inner Rooms, and Beds of decent frame,
Your early pains and chief attention claim.
Yet who can count them, as laborious use
Is still at work new models to produce?
Some, pliant Osiers into baskets twine,
And hang by nails; while Some the Couch design
In wood by artists carv'd; and trunks of trees,
Or hollow'd stones, unwary numbers please;
For gouty knots from chilling stones proceed,
And in the trees pernicious vermin breed.
To baffle such variety of foes,
The Chambers with a whiter brick compose;
For, bak'd by fire, the well-digested earth,
With temper friendly to the tender birth,
Alleviates Winter's cold and Summer's heat;
Untaught, like stones, to drop with clammy sweat.
Your early pains and chief attention claim.
Yet who can count them, as laborious use
Is still at work new models to produce?
Some, pliant Osiers into baskets twine,
And hang by nails; while Some the Couch design
213
Or hollow'd stones, unwary numbers please;
For gouty knots from chilling stones proceed,
And in the trees pernicious vermin breed.
To baffle such variety of foes,
The Chambers with a whiter brick compose;
For, bak'd by fire, the well-digested earth,
With temper friendly to the tender birth,
Alleviates Winter's cold and Summer's heat;
Untaught, like stones, to drop with clammy sweat.
The Mansion, finish'd thus by artful hands,
A guest to crown its Owner's hopes demands.
A guest to crown its Owner's hopes demands.
Of Doves the larger (for the kinds are two)
A milder nature boasts and snowy hue;
Wing'd are her feet; her ruffled legs abound
In feathers, slowly trail'd along the ground.
And, thus returning from the taste flood,
She soils the nest with its collected mud,
And hostile moisture chills her hapless brood;
And, more to be deplor'd, her anxious breast
Close to her eggs with fatal love is prest,
If, struck by sudden noise with heedless dread,
She springs aloft, and scatters from the bed
Her hatching twins; unless, with timely care,
The vain excrescence of her feet you pare.
A milder nature boasts and snowy hue;
Wing'd are her feet; her ruffled legs abound
In feathers, slowly trail'd along the ground.
And, thus returning from the taste flood,
She soils the nest with its collected mud,
And hostile moisture chills her hapless brood;
And, more to be deplor'd, her anxious breast
Close to her eggs with fatal love is prest,
If, struck by sudden noise with heedless dread,
She springs aloft, and scatters from the bed
Her hatching twins; unless, with timely care,
The vain excrescence of her feet you pare.
Of kindred race the Cyprian Dove is bred,
Whose feathers, rang'd about her crested head,
Rise in a crown, and suit her stately tread.
But whether Sirius fire the thirsty plain,
Or yield to Winter's more inclement reign,
The lasting flame of genial Love they feed,
And either sort in either season breed.
And scarce the twins from home have taken wing,
When other eggs, in swift succession, spring,
This is the Dove, that best deserves our care,
Would she to fields, in search of food, repair;
Delighted, like the wilder kind, to roam,
And spare her Owner's pains and cost at home.
Whose feathers, rang'd about her crested head,
Rise in a crown, and suit her stately tread.
214
Or yield to Winter's more inclement reign,
The lasting flame of genial Love they feed,
And either sort in either season breed.
And scarce the twins from home have taken wing,
When other eggs, in swift succession, spring,
This is the Dove, that best deserves our care,
Would she to fields, in search of food, repair;
Delighted, like the wilder kind, to roam,
And spare her Owner's pains and cost at home.
The meaner sort to tops of houses flies,
Beneath the first in fruitfulness and size:
She loves retirement; and, when mother earth
Receives the seed, or boasts her golden birth,
For food unbought she traverses the fields,
And a small theft, an ample dinner yields.
A temper not so mild in her is found;
Her feet unfeather'd, and her head uncrown'd;
Her garment borders on an ashy pale;
And, as in Spring her soft desires prevail,
Beginning there, her teeming season holds,
Till lazy Winter brings benumbing colds:
Exhausted then, she drops her teeming task,
And earth, and she, the same cessation ask.
This, from the rocks she haunts, derives her name;
And That they stile the feather-footed dame.
Beneath the first in fruitfulness and size:
She loves retirement; and, when mother earth
Receives the seed, or boasts her golden birth,
For food unbought she traverses the fields,
And a small theft, an ample dinner yields.
A temper not so mild in her is found;
Her feet unfeather'd, and her head uncrown'd;
Her garment borders on an ashy pale;
And, as in Spring her soft desires prevail,
Beginning there, her teeming season holds,
Till lazy Winter brings benumbing colds:
Exhausted then, she drops her teeming task,
And earth, and she, the same cessation ask.
This, from the rocks she haunts, derives her name;
And That they stile the feather-footed dame.
But if the diff'rent clans in wedlock join,
Beneath one roof, to propagate their line,
The Father's better part will mark the race,
And fruitful beds the choice alliance grace.
The num'rous young shall thrive on slender fare,
And each auspicious month produce a pair.
Beneath one roof, to propagate their line,
215
And fruitful beds the choice alliance grace.
The num'rous young shall thrive on slender fare,
And each auspicious month produce a pair.
Would you a nation blended thus create,
Draught out the hopes and founders of the state;
And closely be your colony confin'd
Within the walls, for their abode design'd;
Nor, weakly melted by their soft complaint,
Release the Rovers from their due restraint,
Till Time the former residence shall blot
From their fond hearts, and, in th' appointed spot,
They venture new desires to entertain,
In just despair to meet their old again.
Draught out the hopes and founders of the state;
And closely be your colony confin'd
Within the walls, for their abode design'd;
Nor, weakly melted by their soft complaint,
Release the Rovers from their due restraint,
Till Time the former residence shall blot
From their fond hearts, and, in th' appointed spot,
They venture new desires to entertain,
In just despair to meet their old again.
Then, fasten'd for a month, unbar the door,
And let them freely range the country o'er;
But lest, invited by too clear a day
Beyond their knowledge from their home to stray,
They miss the backward path, confine their flight
To hazy weather, or the verge of night.
For, daunted to behold a black'ning sky,
But short excursions they will dare to try;
Till now familiar by degrees become,
Their place of exile proves their only home.
And let them freely range the country o'er;
But lest, invited by too clear a day
Beyond their knowledge from their home to stray,
They miss the backward path, confine their flight
To hazy weather, or the verge of night.
For, daunted to behold a black'ning sky,
But short excursions they will dare to try;
Till now familiar by degrees become,
Their place of exile proves their only home.
But lest, deserting thence, the plaintive Dove
Should fondly to her former tent remove,
Her former tent the truant has dismay'd
Of old, by leathern wings of Bats display'd
Before the portal; or a slaughter'd Bull,
To drive her thence, has rear'd his ghastly skull;
A grinning Wolf has star'd her in the face,
And Balm and Storax, chaf'd, annoy'd the place;
And Herns to ashes turn'd, of loathsome scent,
Have sprinkled the forbidden tenement.
Should fondly to her former tent remove,
Her former tent the truant has dismay'd
Of old, by leathern wings of Bats display'd
216
To drive her thence, has rear'd his ghastly skull;
A grinning Wolf has star'd her in the face,
And Balm and Storax, chaf'd, annoy'd the place;
And Herns to ashes turn'd, of loathsome scent,
Have sprinkled the forbidden tenement.
But plenteous Commons be your wiser care,
And fix the Pigeons by alluring Fare.
When angry Winter calls the tempest forth,
And Earth, abandon'd to the freezing North,
Denies them due recruits of herbs and grain,
By claws and beak solicited in vain,
Regard their labour with a pitying eye,
And twice a day the needful meal supply;
Once, when the Morning's ninth revolving hour
Has warn'd their hunger from the neighb'ring Tow'r,
With soothing sounds the Feeder's hand to woo,
And in soft notes importunately coo;
Provide their Supper, when declining light
And cooler air, their homeward wing invite.
When shorten'd shades the noontide hour declare,
The house approach not with untimely Fare;
For then in rest, the Morning's labour ends,
And midnight Silence at their couch attends.
And fix the Pigeons by alluring Fare.
When angry Winter calls the tempest forth,
And Earth, abandon'd to the freezing North,
Denies them due recruits of herbs and grain,
By claws and beak solicited in vain,
Regard their labour with a pitying eye,
And twice a day the needful meal supply;
Once, when the Morning's ninth revolving hour
Has warn'd their hunger from the neighb'ring Tow'r,
With soothing sounds the Feeder's hand to woo,
And in soft notes importunately coo;
Provide their Supper, when declining light
And cooler air, their homeward wing invite.
When shorten'd shades the noontide hour declare,
The house approach not with untimely Fare;
For then in rest, the Morning's labour ends,
And midnight Silence at their couch attends.
On dainties as the Doves delight to feed,
On Vetches, Millet, Cummin's paler seed,
In Spring regale them with more gen'rous food;
In Spring the Nurse requires it, and the Brood:
For Winter, homelier meals in course remain,
As Oats and Acorns chop'd, and sifted Grain.
On Vetches, Millet, Cummin's paler seed,
In Spring regale them with more gen'rous food;
In Spring the Nurse requires it, and the Brood:
217
As Oats and Acorns chop'd, and sifted Grain.
To count the Flock with ease, or not molest
The Mother brooding on her peaceful nest,
Some in the middle of the Yard have fed
Their tim'rous Doves, by this contrivance led;
Enur'd to Fasting, till a certain hour,
When craving appetite exerts its pow'r,
With pleasure they th' expected Whistle hear;
Or sounding Brass proclaims the ready chear;
Or Stones the loud-repeated strokes resound,
And summon to their meal the nation round.
The signal all with hungry haste obey,
And each her morsel snatches as she may.
The Mother brooding on her peaceful nest,
Some in the middle of the Yard have fed
Their tim'rous Doves, by this contrivance led;
Enur'd to Fasting, till a certain hour,
When craving appetite exerts its pow'r,
With pleasure they th' expected Whistle hear;
Or sounding Brass proclaims the ready chear;
Or Stones the loud-repeated strokes resound,
And summon to their meal the nation round.
The signal all with hungry haste obey,
And each her morsel snatches as she may.
Should One, while all the rest devour the treat,
Droop on the lonely roof, and nauseate meat,
The quickning pow'r of Salt, before her thrown,
Recalls her stomach to its former tone.
Droop on the lonely roof, and nauseate meat,
The quickning pow'r of Salt, before her thrown,
Recalls her stomach to its former tone.
As Doves in taste and cleanliness excel,
In houses nicely clean they chuse to dwell;
And their desertion you may mourn in vain,
If long the floor their dead and ordure stain.
Then often clear it; and the dung consign
To mend the Harvest, and enrich the Wine;
Whilst careful Swains its vital aid prepare,
To cure distempers in their fleecy care.
But measure sparingly what you ordain
To foster Vines, or bury with the Grain;
For else with native fire it nips the Corn,
And rivell'd Grapes its baleful plenty mourn.
In houses nicely clean they chuse to dwell;
And their desertion you may mourn in vain,
If long the floor their dead and ordure stain.
Then often clear it; and the dung consign
To mend the Harvest, and enrich the Wine;
Whilst careful Swains its vital aid prepare,
To cure distempers in their fleecy care.
But measure sparingly what you ordain
To foster Vines, or bury with the Grain;
218
And rivell'd Grapes its baleful plenty mourn.
Be watchful still to chase the Kite away;
Incessant in the snares he forms for prey:
The helpless kind was ne'er by Robber aw'd,
So savage, or so disciplin'd in fraud.
Pois'd on his wings, he hangs in air sublime,
On mischief bent, and meditates his time.
Or, perching on a tree, at distance eyes
Behind its topmost bough th' approaching prize;
And often in his flight affects to wheel
Thro' various rounds, as innocent of ill:
Unhappy then the Dove that trusts the skies,
Or, lagging home, her weary pinion plies;
For swift the Caitiff on his mark descends,
And, grip'd within his claws, its entrails rends:
Or should the people, fallying out, o'erspread
The Welkin, by inviting weather led
In quest of pasture, unforeseen the Kite
Shoots on the Throng, who, seiz'd with mortal fright,
And scatter'd ev'ry way, precipitate their flight.
The tops of Houses part their refuge make,
Part hid in Woods, and part in Bushes, quake.
And some to human bosoms would retreat,
So dreadful was the foe, and life so sweet.
Ply him with stones, with arrows: charg'd with lead
Present your Piece, and lay the traytor dead.
Or, wanting arms to speed the vengeful blow,
With Cries and Gestures scare the threaten'd foe.
Incessant in the snares he forms for prey:
The helpless kind was ne'er by Robber aw'd,
So savage, or so disciplin'd in fraud.
Pois'd on his wings, he hangs in air sublime,
On mischief bent, and meditates his time.
Or, perching on a tree, at distance eyes
Behind its topmost bough th' approaching prize;
And often in his flight affects to wheel
Thro' various rounds, as innocent of ill:
Unhappy then the Dove that trusts the skies,
Or, lagging home, her weary pinion plies;
For swift the Caitiff on his mark descends,
And, grip'd within his claws, its entrails rends:
Or should the people, fallying out, o'erspread
The Welkin, by inviting weather led
In quest of pasture, unforeseen the Kite
Shoots on the Throng, who, seiz'd with mortal fright,
And scatter'd ev'ry way, precipitate their flight.
The tops of Houses part their refuge make,
Part hid in Woods, and part in Bushes, quake.
And some to human bosoms would retreat,
So dreadful was the foe, and life so sweet.
Ply him with stones, with arrows: charg'd with lead
Present your Piece, and lay the traytor dead.
219
With Cries and Gestures scare the threaten'd foe.
Their elder Females from the table drive,
As these their native tenderness survive;
For Envy, some believe, and deadly Rage,
Enflam'd to Madness, warp their barren age.
The Virgin Candor, of too short a date,
Is banish'd from the breast by Beldam hate;
The younger Dove's distress is now their joy,
Her Nest they rifle, and her Eggs destroy.
As these their native tenderness survive;
For Envy, some believe, and deadly Rage,
Enflam'd to Madness, warp their barren age.
The Virgin Candor, of too short a date,
Is banish'd from the breast by Beldam hate;
The younger Dove's distress is now their joy,
Her Nest they rifle, and her Eggs destroy.
To obviate this abuse, when now they score,
The fourth December's Frost, and breed no more,
A gen'ral Massacre is oft decreed;
Alike the Grandsires and their Fathers bleed,
And other Towns they raise, and other Tribes succeed.
But you the Carnage may too late repent,
If hurry'd by so mad a Precedent,
Where many suffer, tho' but some offend;
For there the Damage must the Crime transcend.
The fourth December's Frost, and breed no more,
A gen'ral Massacre is oft decreed;
Alike the Grandsires and their Fathers bleed,
And other Towns they raise, and other Tribes succeed.
But you the Carnage may too late repent,
If hurry'd by so mad a Precedent,
Where many suffer, tho' but some offend;
For there the Damage must the Crime transcend.
To fix the Pigeons Age, before they leave
The cradle, of a Claw the Young bereave:
Then lop another in each annual Round,
And when the Wretches short of four are found,
Set them apart, to die for Nature's fault,
And glad your Hirelings with a feast unbought.
The cradle, of a Claw the Young bereave:
Then lop another in each annual Round,
And when the Wretches short of four are found,
Set them apart, to die for Nature's fault,
And glad your Hirelings with a feast unbought.
The Muse their Genius now and Manners sings,
And forms a grand parade of trivial things;
For only they, like men, forsake the wood,
And taste the social sweets of neighbourhood;
And, taught by us, in spacious cities pent,
With rival policy their Tow'rs frequent.
But neither Kings nor Barons, oft inclin'd
To crush Inferiors, please the Cyprian kind:
And forms a grand parade of trivial things;
220
And taste the social sweets of neighbourhood;
And, taught by us, in spacious cities pent,
With rival policy their Tow'rs frequent.
But neither Kings nor Barons, oft inclin'd
To crush Inferiors, please the Cyprian kind:
For as of old, in Nature's early days,
Ere impious Discord had presum'd to raise
Her savage front, or Scythes to Swords were chang'd,
Or hell-born Sin around the globe had rang'd,
Each cultivated his paternal spot,
Without repining at another's lot:
No less the Pigeons in their Tow'r agree;
From Law exempted, and from Vice as free.
Ere impious Discord had presum'd to raise
Her savage front, or Scythes to Swords were chang'd,
Or hell-born Sin around the globe had rang'd,
Each cultivated his paternal spot,
Without repining at another's lot:
No less the Pigeons in their Tow'r agree;
From Law exempted, and from Vice as free.
One Council, guiltless of debate, they fill;
One is the Love in all, and one the Will:
No strong Convulsions, that on Discord wait,
To shatter nations, shake their stable state:
No homebred feuds the jarring Commons fire,
But Union's blissful bonds remain entire.
One is the Love in all, and one the Will:
No strong Convulsions, that on Discord wait,
To shatter nations, shake their stable state:
No homebred feuds the jarring Commons fire,
But Union's blissful bonds remain entire.
Nor only free from civil war's alarms,
Deep in the tow'r they lodge their useless arms;
But numbers link'd, the point of public view,
Without a single negative, pursue.
In troops, to distant pastures they repair;
The fountain one has sipp'd, his followers share.
Should he, returning home, the field forsake,
Home is the choice his faithful fellows make:
Again, if weary to be there confin'd,
He seeks the fields anew; a train, behind
The leader of the day, prepare to fly;
And strait a feather'd cloud obscures the sky.
Deep in the tow'r they lodge their useless arms;
But numbers link'd, the point of public view,
Without a single negative, pursue.
In troops, to distant pastures they repair;
The fountain one has sipp'd, his followers share.
Should he, returning home, the field forsake,
Home is the choice his faithful fellows make:
221
He seeks the fields anew; a train, behind
The leader of the day, prepare to fly;
And strait a feather'd cloud obscures the sky.
But, fond of home, or fonder of her nest,
Should one refuse to travel with the rest,
The rest to her the Nursery commend,
And neither fraud nor robbers apprehend.
If wise precaution warns you to remove
The barren Matrons; lest the teeming Dove,
Dash'd by their frantic wings against the floor,
Or broken by their bills, her Eggs deplore;
So Scandal cries, to justify the rage
That dooms to death unprofitable age
For sordid gain: Their malice is confess'd;
But wicked waste the Crones themselves detest.
Should one refuse to travel with the rest,
The rest to her the Nursery commend,
And neither fraud nor robbers apprehend.
If wise precaution warns you to remove
The barren Matrons; lest the teeming Dove,
Dash'd by their frantic wings against the floor,
Or broken by their bills, her Eggs deplore;
So Scandal cries, to justify the rage
That dooms to death unprofitable age
For sordid gain: Their malice is confess'd;
But wicked waste the Crones themselves detest.
When fruitful Ceres wreathes her yellow hair
With ripen'd Corn, the Pigeon's easy fare,
They wander o'er the fields, and fatten there.
Till, warn'd by Hesper of approaching night,
Home to their Young they wing their anxious flight.
But when the winter winds, with stiff'ning cold,
Have parch'd the ground, and drive them to the fold,
The wantons there beguile, with various play,
Uneasy thought, and sport the time away.
With ripen'd Corn, the Pigeon's easy fare,
They wander o'er the fields, and fatten there.
Till, warn'd by Hesper of approaching night,
Home to their Young they wing their anxious flight.
But when the winter winds, with stiff'ning cold,
Have parch'd the ground, and drive them to the fold,
The wantons there beguile, with various play,
Uneasy thought, and sport the time away.
And if Apollo's more prevailing pow'r
Dissolves the Frost, and dissipates the Show'r,
The Pigeon, in her house, enjoys the change,
Pleas'd, o'er the sunny side, at large to range.
By turns with eager feet she claws her head,
And, ruffled by her bill, her feathers spread.
Her plumes, by fluctuating colours deck'd,
A precious lustre to the sun reflect;
For Rubies now rejoice, their beams to shed
In collars, round the neck, of rosy red:
Anon the fiery Carbuncles shall blaze,
And Em'ralds green imbibe alternate rays.
Dissolves the Frost, and dissipates the Show'r,
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Pleas'd, o'er the sunny side, at large to range.
By turns with eager feet she claws her head,
And, ruffled by her bill, her feathers spread.
Her plumes, by fluctuating colours deck'd,
A precious lustre to the sun reflect;
For Rubies now rejoice, their beams to shed
In collars, round the neck, of rosy red:
Anon the fiery Carbuncles shall blaze,
And Em'ralds green imbibe alternate rays.
Invited often too by lightsome air,
To barren fields the wanderers repair;
With busy claws they scratch the ground in vain,
And chide the lagging year and tardy grain.
To barren fields the wanderers repair;
With busy claws they scratch the ground in vain,
And chide the lagging year and tardy grain.
From other Tow'rs when Strangers they receive,
Their own apartments to their guests they give;
One table feeds them all, and in one house they live.
The Partridge holds in partnership with none
The field she enters first, and calls her own.
Their own apartments to their guests they give;
One table feeds them all, and in one house they live.
The Partridge holds in partnership with none
The field she enters first, and calls her own.
The Beasts of Nature, bent on prey, maintain,
Thro' spacious wilds, their solitary reign:
But Doves, returning to their house, delight
In squadrons added to extend their flight.
Thro' spacious wilds, their solitary reign:
But Doves, returning to their house, delight
In squadrons added to extend their flight.
By strong persuasions mov'd, their native seat
They may forsake, but hardly can forget:
And thither, set at large, of choice return,
When from it far, in cover'd cages, borne.
They may forsake, but hardly can forget:
And thither, set at large, of choice return,
When from it far, in cover'd cages, borne.
223
The Warrior Laurel hence the Dove has crown'd;
For, ere approaching foes the fort surround
More closely, by the wise Commander's care,
Aërial Couriers to his aid repair;
And other Cyprian Birds, of city race,
Are timely station'd in th' appointed place,
By news, and secret orders, from afar,
In safety interchang'd, to guide the war.
The passes shut on earth, along the skies,
Superior to the reach of arrows, flies
The trusty Bearer of dispatches; ty'd
Secure beneath her wings, from side to side.
This, speeding home, assures the pensive Chief,
And heartless Garison, of quick relief;
While That, returning home, to friends without
Reports how much they dare, and why they doubt.
For, ere approaching foes the fort surround
More closely, by the wise Commander's care,
Aërial Couriers to his aid repair;
And other Cyprian Birds, of city race,
Are timely station'd in th' appointed place,
By news, and secret orders, from afar,
In safety interchang'd, to guide the war.
The passes shut on earth, along the skies,
Superior to the reach of arrows, flies
The trusty Bearer of dispatches; ty'd
Secure beneath her wings, from side to side.
This, speeding home, assures the pensive Chief,
And heartless Garison, of quick relief;
While That, returning home, to friends without
Reports how much they dare, and why they doubt.
Here let the Muse her pleasing task prolong,
To paint the cordial Love they bear their Young.
When now the Mother, near her time to lay,
But of the Nest impatient, flies away;
The Sire, solicitous for Eggs to come,
Pursues the pregnant Dame, and chides her home.
His wings, with gentle strokes, her fault correct;
His murmurs tax her with unkind neglect.
To paint the cordial Love they bear their Young.
When now the Mother, near her time to lay,
But of the Nest impatient, flies away;
The Sire, solicitous for Eggs to come,
Pursues the pregnant Dame, and chides her home.
His wings, with gentle strokes, her fault correct;
His murmurs tax her with unkind neglect.
When ripe, th' eleventh day, for birth appear
The fruitful Eggs, to either parent dear,
They sit by turns, till breaking shells enlarge,
And downy mantles cloath their tender charge.
The Male unfeathers his paternal breast,
To lay his Darlings in an easy nest.
But when the taste of Salt inspires the love
Of food, injected by the Father Dove
Within the tender bills, the common care
Of Male and Female join'd, is then to rear
Their craving Young with large supplies of fare.
The fruitful Eggs, to either parent dear,
They sit by turns, till breaking shells enlarge,
And downy mantles cloath their tender charge.
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To lay his Darlings in an easy nest.
But when the taste of Salt inspires the love
Of food, injected by the Father Dove
Within the tender bills, the common care
Of Male and Female join'd, is then to rear
Their craving Young with large supplies of fare.
They swallow first themselves the chosen food,
And then return it milky to the brood.
Next follow Corn and indigested meat,
But soften'd in the craw by kindly heat;
And if, unripen'd, to the husk it clings,
They shake it thence with their resounding wings.
And then return it milky to the brood.
Next follow Corn and indigested meat,
But soften'd in the craw by kindly heat;
And if, unripen'd, to the husk it clings,
They shake it thence with their resounding wings.
I caught them in a Robbery of late,
As on the verdant ground by chance I sat;
And it provok'd my spleen. Of Ants a throng
With labour heav'd the pond'rous grain along
A beaten tract, inclos'd on either side
By Pigeons; here a Male, and there his Bride.
Eas'd by the Doves of each unwieldy corn,
Snatch'd from their mouths, that cruel aid they mourn.
But theft to murder join'd, the Doves disclaim;
Blood they abhor, and Spoil is all their aim.
For more provision then the Pismires range,
In hope to bear it home, and store the grange:
Vain is their hope; for, sousing from on high,
The Pigeons to repeated plunder fly.
As on the verdant ground by chance I sat;
And it provok'd my spleen. Of Ants a throng
With labour heav'd the pond'rous grain along
A beaten tract, inclos'd on either side
By Pigeons; here a Male, and there his Bride.
Eas'd by the Doves of each unwieldy corn,
Snatch'd from their mouths, that cruel aid they mourn.
But theft to murder join'd, the Doves disclaim;
Blood they abhor, and Spoil is all their aim.
For more provision then the Pismires range,
In hope to bear it home, and store the grange:
Vain is their hope; for, sousing from on high,
The Pigeons to repeated plunder fly.
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Soon as the Younglings are increas'd in strength,
And mount on Pinions, of sufficient length
To seek for Food, and tempt th' aërial way;
The Mother in the nest forbids their stay.
Sad, at the first, they quit their native home,
And cradle, destin'd for a brood to come:
But then, in sacred Bands of Marriage join'd,
Found other Nests, and propagate their kind.
And mount on Pinions, of sufficient length
To seek for Food, and tempt th' aërial way;
The Mother in the nest forbids their stay.
Sad, at the first, they quit their native home,
And cradle, destin'd for a brood to come:
But then, in sacred Bands of Marriage join'd,
Found other Nests, and propagate their kind.
Unshaken to the last their Union stands;
For only Death can loosen Hymen's bands;
And if the Male the faithful Wife survives,
The faithful Wife in his remembrance lives;
With deep-fetch'd sighs he mourns the Charmer dead,
And flowing tears bedew his widow'd bed.
For only Death can loosen Hymen's bands;
And if the Male the faithful Wife survives,
The faithful Wife in his remembrance lives;
With deep-fetch'd sighs he mourns the Charmer dead,
And flowing tears bedew his widow'd bed.
But when the time to sorrow due, is past,
A new desire of course succeeds the last;
He chuses from the croud a single Dove,
And by a close pursuit declares his love;
His dying notes of Cruelty complain;
He bills the Fair, and would be bill'd again;
His flutt'ring Wings a feign'd resentment show,
And pat the Scorner with a friendly blow;
With hov'ring Pinions oft he sweeps the ground,
Sooths her with tender sighs, and wheels around;
And these allurements, with success pursu'd,
In nuptial bliss and chaste delight conclude.
A new desire of course succeeds the last;
He chuses from the croud a single Dove,
And by a close pursuit declares his love;
His dying notes of Cruelty complain;
He bills the Fair, and would be bill'd again;
His flutt'ring Wings a feign'd resentment show,
And pat the Scorner with a friendly blow;
With hov'ring Pinions oft he sweeps the ground,
Sooths her with tender sighs, and wheels around;
And these allurements, with success pursu'd,
In nuptial bliss and chaste delight conclude.
With manners such as now the Muse has told,
Appear'd the Dove in character of old;
But in another form she grac'd the Scene;
The Cyprian Bird was once the Cyprian Queen,
And Pristera her name: The Tale is strange,
And mournful was the fate that caus'd her change;
But she was chang'd; for such was Heav'n's Decree:
Take her Adventure, and lament with Me.
Appear'd the Dove in character of old;
226
The Cyprian Bird was once the Cyprian Queen,
And Pristera her name: The Tale is strange,
And mournful was the fate that caus'd her change;
But she was chang'd; for such was Heav'n's Decree:
Take her Adventure, and lament with Me.
With two fair Daughters in her royal train,
Their fairer Mother She survey'd the Main;
The Main unruffled, and serene the Sky,
Invited Pristera the change to try
From Land to Sea; and Vessels ready stood,
To measure near the coast the level flood.
Her prospect varying, now the Queen admires;
Each city lessens, and each wood retires;
But soon a Tempest o'er the Deep prevails;
The Captain bids the crew dismiss the Sails,
And ply their Oars, to make a Harbour near:
But furious winds unite with female fear
To balk his care; and, hurry'd by the Tide,
From Cyprus far away the Ships divide.
Their fairer Mother She survey'd the Main;
The Main unruffled, and serene the Sky,
Invited Pristera the change to try
From Land to Sea; and Vessels ready stood,
To measure near the coast the level flood.
Her prospect varying, now the Queen admires;
Each city lessens, and each wood retires;
But soon a Tempest o'er the Deep prevails;
The Captain bids the crew dismiss the Sails,
And ply their Oars, to make a Harbour near:
But furious winds unite with female fear
To balk his care; and, hurry'd by the Tide,
From Cyprus far away the Ships divide.
The royal Bark, a thousand perils past,
Severely shatter'd, gain'd a Port at last;
The Port was nameless, and the Land unknown;
And here the Daughters vent their grief alone;
The Mother, to asswage it, hides her own.
A shew of comfort in her looks appears;
But hardly can she curb the swelling tears:
Retiring then to pour them out of view,
Her weary limbs beneath an oak she threw.
A thousand black Ideas croud her mind,
As whither driven by th' impetuous wind;
What hope of life her angry Stars afford,
What the distraction of her loving Lord.
Severely shatter'd, gain'd a Port at last;
The Port was nameless, and the Land unknown;
And here the Daughters vent their grief alone;
The Mother, to asswage it, hides her own.
A shew of comfort in her looks appears;
But hardly can she curb the swelling tears:
227
Her weary limbs beneath an oak she threw.
A thousand black Ideas croud her mind,
As whither driven by th' impetuous wind;
What hope of life her angry Stars afford,
What the distraction of her loving Lord.
The robber Milvus lurking near the place,
The terror and the shame of human race,
Starts from the Brake; and, to the Queen dismay'd,
His eyes the rancour of his heart betray'd.
She flies his near approach in dire affright,
And warns her Daughters too to speed their flight;
But warns in vain. The swifter Robber bore
Close on their speed, and Hope was now no more.
Ye Pow'rs, they cry'd, O! grant us to escape
By loss of life itself the threaten'd rape;
Or, chang'd to Birds, might we obtain the grace,
By help of wings to reach our native place.
The Gods, indulgent to their righteous pray'r,
To glossy Feathers turn the spreading Hair
And less'ning Veil; to Bills their Mouths extend;
Their Shoulders, white with wings, the skies ascend.
The terror and the shame of human race,
Starts from the Brake; and, to the Queen dismay'd,
His eyes the rancour of his heart betray'd.
She flies his near approach in dire affright,
And warns her Daughters too to speed their flight;
But warns in vain. The swifter Robber bore
Close on their speed, and Hope was now no more.
Ye Pow'rs, they cry'd, O! grant us to escape
By loss of life itself the threaten'd rape;
Or, chang'd to Birds, might we obtain the grace,
By help of wings to reach our native place.
The Gods, indulgent to their righteous pray'r,
To glossy Feathers turn the spreading Hair
And less'ning Veil; to Bills their Mouths extend;
Their Shoulders, white with wings, the skies ascend.
When Milvus, by a miracle deny'd
His prey, beheld it soar thro' air untry'd;
O! aid me, Hermes, Sire of Thieves, and join
For once, to human limbs, thy wings divine.
He cry'd; and strait his limbs confess'd the God,
With Feathers darken'd by his potent rod.
The sable garment with his hands to tear
He strove; but Wings instead of Hands they were.
Wretch that I am! alas! my mad request
Has cost, he said; and would have said the rest;
But language fail'd, and words unfinish'd break
In screams uncouth, against his crooked beak.
His prey, beheld it soar thro' air untry'd;
O! aid me, Hermes, Sire of Thieves, and join
For once, to human limbs, thy wings divine.
He cry'd; and strait his limbs confess'd the God,
With Feathers darken'd by his potent rod.
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He strove; but Wings instead of Hands they were.
Wretch that I am! alas! my mad request
Has cost, he said; and would have said the rest;
But language fail'd, and words unfinish'd break
In screams uncouth, against his crooked beak.
Scar'd by a noise unheard before, he flies,
And hunts his prey again thro' empty skies;
The fierceness of his heart and look remains,
And with his name his nature he retains;
Nor can the blood of birds his thirst asswage;
For human limbs he rends with equal rage.
And hunts his prey again thro' empty skies;
The fierceness of his heart and look remains,
And with his name his nature he retains;
Nor can the blood of birds his thirst asswage;
For human limbs he rends with equal rage.
But Pristera the while in vain pursues
With anxious eyes the course her Daughters chuse;
For, flying far from her, in safety they
Had gain'd a Rock. The Mother knows her way
To Cyprus, and the Palace once her own;
Nor fears to enter there, tho' now unknown;
To court the stroking hand; and, if she cou'd,
To make her Name and Fortune understood.
And oh! what Arts inventive Love supplies,
To give that notice, which her voice denies!
If one beyond the rest bewails her fate,
And sighs and tears on her remembrance wait,
To him she flies, and with her Bill laments
In mournful murmurs, mix'd with blandishments;
Her lab'ring Bill, industrious to disclose
The Story, half articulates her woes.
Her Sons, where-e'er they go, she still pursues;
Bears to be touch'd, and claps her wings, and cooes.
Her, a glad guest, her Darlings bosoms warm,
And them her soft repeated murmurs charm:
The playful Boys their parent Bird receive,
And, for her cruel fate tho' much they grieve,
Sooth'd by a Mother they no longer know,
She gives them pastime, as she gives them woe.
With anxious eyes the course her Daughters chuse;
For, flying far from her, in safety they
Had gain'd a Rock. The Mother knows her way
To Cyprus, and the Palace once her own;
Nor fears to enter there, tho' now unknown;
To court the stroking hand; and, if she cou'd,
To make her Name and Fortune understood.
And oh! what Arts inventive Love supplies,
To give that notice, which her voice denies!
If one beyond the rest bewails her fate,
And sighs and tears on her remembrance wait,
To him she flies, and with her Bill laments
In mournful murmurs, mix'd with blandishments;
Her lab'ring Bill, industrious to disclose
The Story, half articulates her woes.
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Bears to be touch'd, and claps her wings, and cooes.
Her, a glad guest, her Darlings bosoms warm,
And them her soft repeated murmurs charm:
The playful Boys their parent Bird receive,
And, for her cruel fate tho' much they grieve,
Sooth'd by a Mother they no longer know,
She gives them pastime, as she gives them woe.
Her Lord she hover'd round beyond the rest;
Or by his side a welcome seat possess'd;
Fed from his hand; or, by it gently strok'd,
She kiss'd it with a sigh; and groans, provok'd
By dear remembrance, heave her sinking heart;
But sighs and groans can no relief impart.
In Cyprus, tho' a stranger, she remain'd,
And in all hearts by secret instinct reign'd;
The Cyprian Pristera she thence became
In Greece; Columba was her Roman name.
Or by his side a welcome seat possess'd;
Fed from his hand; or, by it gently strok'd,
She kiss'd it with a sigh; and groans, provok'd
By dear remembrance, heave her sinking heart;
But sighs and groans can no relief impart.
In Cyprus, tho' a stranger, she remain'd,
And in all hearts by secret instinct reign'd;
The Cyprian Pristera she thence became
In Greece; Columba was her Roman name.
Her name and blood alike her offspring shares;
A crown imperial on her head she bears,
The badge of her descent: A Queen she moves;
A regal tow'r, her former mansion, loves;
With crouds incompass'd of attendant Doves;
And, by a foible, not in females rare,
Chang'd tho' she is in form, would still be fair:
Her pride betraying by her lofty gait,
Around she wheels her neck in tardy state.
Her Feathers, apt too oft to slip astray,
Smooth'd by her Bill, the laws of Dress obey:
From ev'ry little spot, by Nature neat,
She clears her Wings with care; her dainty Feet
Affect a Path, from all pollution free;
Alone of all the Birds she shuns a Tree;
And looks for covert in the Wood no more,
Remembring what it cost her heretofore.
A crown imperial on her head she bears,
The badge of her descent: A Queen she moves;
A regal tow'r, her former mansion, loves;
With crouds incompass'd of attendant Doves;
And, by a foible, not in females rare,
Chang'd tho' she is in form, would still be fair:
Her pride betraying by her lofty gait,
Around she wheels her neck in tardy state.
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Smooth'd by her Bill, the laws of Dress obey:
From ev'ry little spot, by Nature neat,
She clears her Wings with care; her dainty Feet
Affect a Path, from all pollution free;
Alone of all the Birds she shuns a Tree;
And looks for covert in the Wood no more,
Remembring what it cost her heretofore.
Mild, peaceful, chaste, as was the royal Bride,
Such is the Bird, in sacred Wedlock ty'd:
No lawless flame attaints the beauteous Spouse;
True to her virgin choice, and plighted vows.
Such is the Bird, in sacred Wedlock ty'd:
No lawless flame attaints the beauteous Spouse;
True to her virgin choice, and plighted vows.
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