University of Virginia Library

Now, thro' the fluid azure of the skies,
Domestic bird, the fleet-wing'd swallow flies;
Now, in some window, for a stated rest,
With care maternal, builds her oval nest.
Or cornice underneath; as if she came
Mankind's protection from assault to claim.
Nor let her confidence be ill repaid;
Oh! be the ruffian hand relentless staid,
That would, instead of proving her defence,
Unhospitably drive her wretched hence.

But shall the Muse be backward to describe
The labours of the winter-dormant tribe?
No; let their police teach the human-kind,
That reason's not alone to man confin'd.
Presumptuous man! so arrogantly wise,
Proud of his high-born lineage from the skies!

One to some water speeds, and wets her wings,
Then on the dust the sprinkled moisture flings.
Another mixes it with self-taught skill,
Or bears the mortar on his loaded bill.
Bit upon bit, with nice proportion plac'd,
The mansion rises up in curious taste.
Each emulous the growing work surveys,
With ardent eye glanc'd round a thousand ways,
And with fond art, their labours to beguile,
Warbles in well-known twitters all the while.
The pensile sructure rear'd in outward form,
Cemented close, and firm against the storm,
To furnish it for kindly warmth within,
Another pleasing office they begin;
O'er spacious fields unwearied wing their flight,
Now lowly skim athwart, now gently light,
To seize the down some friendly thorn detains,
As left on purpose to reward their pains;
The straw, the fleecy moss, the silken hair,
Or feathers, lightly frisking in the air.
With these they finish their commodious dome,
Then, to relax, excursions make from home;
High in pure regions nearer to the sun,
Exulting, gay, their annual labour done;
Or o'er some lucid pond, or gliding stream,
Where insects hover in the setting beam.
Not long; the mother soon, by instinct led,
Returns to occupy her downy bed;
Nor ever till her brood, with cautious wings,
Taught and embolden'd first in feeble springs,
For liquid air their dark confinements change,
Idly abroad permits herself to range.

Now, from these mansions Friendship ever quits,
Where moaping gloom-brow'd Melancholy sits,
Distrust, Want, Ague, Avarice, and Care,
The miser steals, to breathe vertumnal air.
Mansions, through which few rays transmissive shoot,
Save from his chimney—seldom foul with soot,
Or greasy shatter'd lamp's uncertain light,
Kindled but in the dead opaque of night,
If, haply, he should lift his timid eye,
To see what thief, or sheet-cloth'd goblin's nigh;
A greater spectre he (beheld by few)
Were his lank form to bolt upon the view.
From all this dismal group of horrours dread,
Ghastly, as if just risen from the dead,
The niggard, whom no beauties else could charm,
No kindly passions, no soft transports warm;
Ventures abroad, with felon's sneaking pace,
To look his fellow-creatures in the face;
Almost afraid to act, as if akin,
Mov'd by some conscious principle within:
While all shrink back, with diffidence and scorn,
(As shepherds from the snake-infested thorn)
Thus acting on Humanity's own plan,
From such a monster in the form of man.
Though not one tender social tie that binds
Free gen'rous spirits, or ennobled minds,
His little heart, as marble hard to melt,
E'er for the period of a moment felt;
Yet now, howe'er repugnant to his plan,
Spring partly moulds and softens him to man.
Watching his wealth, by locks on locks secur'd,
Hunger and thirst in their extremes endur'd;
Or counting o'er, with still enhanc'd delight,
With harden'd fingers, and with aching sight,
His figur'd pieces (thus preserv'd from rust)
Of brighter-ting'd consolidated dust;
Winter beheld him, all benumm'd with cold,
Swath'd in a tatter'd blanket's scanty fold;
Beheld him, though surrounded with his pelf,
A poor and wither'd emblem of himself;
Squalid his beard, his skin to parchment shrunk,
Death-pale his visage, and his eye-balls sunk.
But now the tardy current in his veins,
Frozen erewhile, a brisker motion gains.
On his dull organs Spring's resistless pow'r
Acts—as on yonder reptile, yonder flow'r;
What motive, reason, choice, or will, we call,
(Man's privilege) alike deny'd to all.
Hail, Queen of Seasons! thine's the potent charm
Winter of all his rigour to disarm!
Hail, Queen of Seasons! thine's the magic art
To touch with life the Miser's torpid heart!
A task much harder than, with spells unknown,
To bend the oak, or mollify the stone.

In some wide area, now, or spacious green,
In social parties, nymphs and swains convene,
Elate in youth, with expectation flush,
And warm each cheek with health's carminian blush:
While, from the saffron chambers of the west,
The downward sun, ere he retires to rest,
Brightens his parting smile, well-pleas'd to see
Their mutual merriment, and harmless glee.
Through the brisk measures of the mazy dance,
They now, by turns, recede, and now advance;
Enliven'd by the hautboy's sprightly sound,
With nimble foot beat the enamel'd ground.
Changing in airy trip from side to side,
No graceful step, no attitude's untried,
To fix the notice of the glancing eye,
To paint the glow, or swell the conscious sigh.
Each fronts the blooming damsel he admires,
For whom he languishes in soft desires;
For whom the song's compos'd, the nose-gay drest,
To lose its beauties on he snowy breast;
For whom by tinkling rills he loves to stray,
Or through lone groves plod his sad dreary way;
For whom in nice repair the arbour's put,
And on the bark the dear initials cut:
The glance, smile, sigh, squeeze, whisper, leer, discover
The ardent, though the apprehensive lover;
While she, in vain, with much dissembled art,
Would hide the fond emotions of her heart;
Though ev'ry female stratagem she tries,
His eye soon penetrates the thin disguise.

From all the stiff formality of state,
The rights of kings, and factions of the great,
The senator, now parted from the throng,
Unbends his thoughts, intensely fix'd so long;
While Solitude his placid hours employs,
In learned ease to taste the noblest joys.
Now Recollection ushers into view,
Quick in her search, to her resemblence true,
A croud of glorious objects, dear to fame,
Which add distinguish'd lustre to his name:
His projects plann'd with wisdom and address,
Directed well, and honour'd with success,
Beyond the royal, or the public hope,
Give his enlarg'd reflections ample scope;
Swell his full heart with patriot triumphs known,
To Pitt, and some few kindred minds alone.
On such the Prince's royal favour smiles,
Whom no eye curses, and no tongue reviles.
On such, as more than popularly great,
The pray'rs and blessings of a kingdom wait.
Fair Liberty, with such fond to resort,
Leaves all the splendid circles of a court;
Virtue, on whom a nation's weal depends,
That skill which plans, and valour that defends;
Glory and Victory, illustrious pair,
To grace his recess, and his pleasures share.

But not enamour'd of the year alone
The grandee, by his crests armorial known;
The man of traffic too his toil remits,
And for a while his desk and counter quits;
To the calm scenes of rural ease repairs,
Purchas'd by a long train of anxious cares:
While birds with music his arrival greet,
And fields and groves exhibit ev'ry sweet;
Additionally bright each sun-beam shines,
To welcome him whom smoke so long confines,
Confines in the eternal quest of wealth,
Oft with the forfeiture of peace and health.

The shepherd now, o'er flowery lawns at large,
And richest pastures, tends his fleecy charge,
Pleas'd to behold, around their bleating dams,
In harmless frolic frisk the tender lambs;
His little social cur attending nigh,
To watch the flock with oft-reverted eye.
Upon some eminence he sits him down,
Undazzled by the splendour of a crown,
And hums, with untaught languishment of air,
Some sonnet on his not unconscious fair,
The buxon dame, that in the lilied vale
With milky nectar fills the balmy pail;
Or, by the grassy margin of a brook,
Stretches his listless length beside his crook;
Where willows flutter to the whisking wind,
And murmurs sooth to indolence his mind;
Where hawthorns swell, where honeysuckles wreathe,
And blossoms round perfum'd effluvias breathe.
Where lime-trees, from Noon's piercing glance to screen,
Throw over head a canopy of green.
Where linnets warble with melodious throats,
And finches chaunt their finely-quiver'd notes.
All to invite the ravish'd shepherd's stay,
Enhance his joys, nd drive his cares away.

Calmly delighted with the well-known haunt,
His breast disturb'd by no phantastic want,
Along the flowery herbage, far from noise,
Nature's pure guiltless pleasures he enjoys.
Pleasures, to share but equal with the clown,
Monarchs themselves might lay their sceptres down.
Here, no absurd ambition to be great,
To head a faction, or enslave a state;
No scheme of vengeance, no invidious plan,
To injure or deceive his fellow-man;
No daring project to obtrude his name
In Time's proud records, or the lists of Fame;
Set his licentious passions all on fire,
Distract his thoughts, or stimulate desire.
Far other objects occupy his time,
Which raise no tumult, and imply no crime.
While scarce resolv'd what grateful to prepare,
Or purchase, as a present for his fair;
Whether a brace of pigeons, white as snow,
Or burnish'd o'er with many a radiant glow;
Of osier twigs a basket curious wrought,
Or breast-knot at adjacent village bought,
Whose figure some apt love-device conceals,
On ev'ry sense a drousy languor steals.
Partly awake, yet partly slumb'ring too,
The landscape seems to swim before his view;
Till sleep, at length, to all beneath the skies,
In pleasing visions seals his weary eyes.
Visions, where he beholds his plighted maid
In all the florid charms of youth display'd;
Such charms as health and innocence bestow,
Beyond the toilet's artificial glow;
Beyond what boasted washes can impart,
The skin-deep varnish of cosmetic art.
Such charms as seldom grace the court-bred fair,
Though gems in constellations deck her hair;
Though round her airy trips the self-fond beau,
And coxcombs flutter on phantastic toe.
Such charms as amply recompense the swain,
Though unpossess'd (such triumphs to the vain)
Of gilded equipage, and titles proud,
To court the gaze and homage of the croud.
Rest on, unenvy'd shepherd! and partake
Those joys with-held from half the world awake,
But joys, when sleep her opiate balm denies,
Thy happier stars to thee shall realize;
For guilt alone in dreams such raptures knows,
As on his waking hours Heav'n ne'er bestows.

Now, long in torpid indolence confin'd,
Whilst Winter whistled in the northern wind,
The bees excursive seek the sunny field,
Where fresh-spread blooms the liquid honey yield.
But, form'd of mechanism most exact,
The waxen structure previous they erect.
Plann'd in a range of corresponding rooms,
Each architect a task apart assumes.
Some ascertain the wideness, some the length,
Some heave the burden with exerted strength.
Some see the fret-work combs appended right,
Some raise partitions to their proper height.
Some polish and elaborate the walls,
Some gather up what from the builder falls.
Some ever and anon, with outstretch'd wing,
The vegetable glue for cement bring.
With mathematic elegance of art,
The edifice complete in ev'ry part;
The parent bee, that over all presides,
In parties next the colony divides,
From bud to bud extracting sweets to roam,
Or joyous waft the luscious treasure home.
The powder'd daffodil's madescent spoils,
Renew'd by youthful suns and early soils;
The border-planted thyme's strong-scented dew,
Or fragrant hyacinth's, of ruby hue;
To form those sweets that melt upon the lip,
First of Spring's flow'rs court their enamour'd sip:
While numbers ready at the entrance stand
To lighten of their loads the homeward band;
Hence, in distinct divisions to be laid,
By others station'd farther in convey'd.
For all alike in just allotment share,
Delighted all, the profit and the care.
No time seems long, no drudgery they shun,
Once their appointed office is begun.
No flow'r the humid fatness that receives,
No blossom that expands its silken leaves,
Or in the garden's variegated beds,
Or where the purple heath luxuriant spreads;
But gratefully bestows its yellow spoil,
To freight their wings, and recompense their toil.

Within, the monarch, far from vulgar view,
Distinguish'd by his size, and burnish'd hue,
With royal eye the curious work inspects;
Here he adjusts, and yonder he directs;
Or, strolling out, or latent in the cells,
The drones, a lazy useless brood, expells.
Happy republic! where with steady aim,
(How few communities can boast the same?)
No discontented voice, no party-feud,
All ardently promote the general good.
How happy Albion, did her sons unite,
With blended counsels, and consociate might,
To fix, thus truly, venerably great,
The virtue, strength, and welfare of the State!
A conduct sure more glorious, than embrace
All creeds, all forms, all parties, for—a place;
No matter how our projects brought about,
If I but in, and but another out.

A thousand wishes, not to be express'd,
And soft desires, now warm the virgin-breast.
Wishes her utmost caution scarce conceals,
But all her manner undesign'd reveals.
The glass consulted oft, with graceful wile,
How to conduct the wafture of a smile;
The solitary turn, and pensive cast,
The keen sensation of the pointed jest;
The heaving bosom, and half-notic'd sigh,
The damask cheek, and languid-rolling eye;
The roving glance, and neck of ivory bare,
The loose attire, and negligence of air;
All modestly, without the aid of art,
Divulge the secrets of the female heart.

Beware, ye boast of workmanship divine!
Daughters of Beauty! darlings of the Nine!
Beware of Love's insinuating wiles,
Though he approach you with his softest smiles;
Though accents, mild as gales favonian blow,
From his bland tongue in smooth-turn'd period flow.
Oh! guard against the lightning of the eye,
Less fatal that which flashes from the sky.
There undisguis'd the soul's soft movements play,
Melt in a tear, or dazzle in a ray.
There Love erects his crystal engine, whence
He missive throws his weapons of offence;
His rapture-wing'd, or anguish-pointed darts,
With certain aim to reach unguarded hearts.
Better on headlong precipices dance,
Than meet the lambent eye's insidious glance.

With base intentions, couch'd in artful speech,
Now will the urchin flatter, now beseech.
A thousand modes of love-lorn style invent,
His faith, his truth, his love, to represent;
Hopes, wishes, doubts, and fears, a motly train,
That all together croud upon his brain;
While tears, obedient to the well-feign'd call,
Down his unmanly cheek officious fall.
But turn aside, meet not his pleading eyes,
Nor pity what you rather should despise.
His words a latent poison will convey,
The tempter speaks and looks, but to betray.
Beware then, fairest forms the sun surveys!
Beware of love! beware of vernal days!
Of the fam'd Ides , as ancient times record,
So warn'd the Augur Rome's victorious lord;
But Cæsar, not below himself to seem,
Disdain'd his life by caution to redeem,
And, proudly flush'd with fame too highly priz'd,
The divination as a dream despis'd;
Despis'd, and by the friend he lov'd so well,
Wrapt in his robe, a mighty victim fell.

But ye, whom Nature gently form'd to prove
The melting, soft, impassion'd soul of love,
Attend a moment to a friendly Muse,
Nor your inspiring smile meantime refuse,
While she describes the man, by Heav'n design'd
The finish'd counterpart of womankind.
Oh! were it no ideal picture sketch'd,
But from surrounding life and manners fetch'd.

The courteous Youth of modest worth prefer,
Whom sense convinces when his passions err.
Who knowledge ne'er esteems too early sought,
Nor wisdom at too high a purchase bought.
Of sweet deportment, unassuming air,
His manners gentle, as his soul sincere.
Who still concludes the best, and hopes the most,
An unsuspicious heart his constant boast.
Whom Prejudice, in her tyrannic chains,
That worst of servile thraldoms, ne'er detains,
If Reason, ever biass'd to the right,
Discover objects in a fairer light.
Who ne'er from sacred Truth in aught departs,
Above mean Adulation's paltry arts.
Not of superiour talents vainly proud,
Though to excel his opponent allow'd;
Nor, if addicted to an errour long,
Averse to own his judgment in the wrong.
Who can, though first in ev'ry youthful sport,
With hoary heads in grave harangue consort.
Not carried by the fashion to excess,
But elegantly careless in his dress.
Who can to men, in spheres exalted plac'd,
Suit his demeanour, and adapt his taste;
While those, to less superiour ranks confin'd,
Share his assistance and protection kind.
Who knows with spirit, when, and how, to act,
Though in vain boasts by female softness check'd.
Whom none with glaring faults or vices tax,
Born to protect, not to insult the sex.
Who gives to pelf its estimation due,
Though open-purs'd and hospitable too.
Deaf to Detraction's and Resentment's call,
Attach'd to few, although polite to all.
Beyond each sordid mercenary end,
Cautious to censure, backward to offend.
Who, delicate in word and thought alike,
Avoids the jest that doubly seems to strike.
To no dull set of rigid rules confin'd,
Which meanly setter, not enlarge the mind;
But acting on the more extensive plan
Of universal charity to man.
Who ne'er presumes his Maker's bolts to throw
On each he impotently deems his foe;
The little malice of a narrow heart,
That of the whole but comprehends a part.
Who hates in modes or trifles to be odd,
Scorns a vain oath, and ne'er blasphemes his God.
No tool of state, no Party's venal dupe,
To fear too honest, and too proud to stoop;
But, if his Country claim his proffer'd life,
Prepar'd to die in the illustrious strife.
Not elevated by a vague applause,
Which caprice utter'd, or disgust withdraws.
Whose eye with manly pity can o'erflow,
And heart be melted at another's wo.
In all his dealings scrupulously just,
Firm in his friendships, steady to his trust.
Neither in body or in mind diseas'd,
On pleasing bent, as wishing to be pleas'd.
If such a Youth, the glory of his kind,
Accomplish'd thus in person and in mind,
Approach you, with the tender voice of love,
Though all the herd of coxcombs fail to move,
Leave vain punctilios to the formal dame,
Nor blush to own an honourable flame.
For only with the man of these possess'd,
Can Arethusa be completely bless'd,
At least, as such alas! we seldom see,
Like him depainted, finish'd in degree;
Though Fortune, vain of her phantastic pow'r,
Propitious smil'd upon his natal hour;
Though pompous titles blazon forth his name,
And proud escutcheons tell from whence he came.
Riches from wants external may secure,
But cannot peace or happiness ensure.
Power, or force, may oft control the knee,
But never can the heart, by nature free.