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His breast to admiration prone
Enjoys the smile upon her face,
Enjoys triumphant every grace,
Fatigued with form's oppressive laws,
When Somerset avoids the great ;
She seeks the rural calm retreat ;
Which genius grac'd with rank obtains,
To crop the primrose of the plains ?
Ah can she covet there to see
That oil the tongue, and bow the knee,
Far happier, if aright I deem,
To where the lonely halcyons play,
Likens the swain's inglorious day;
O blind to truth, to virtue blind,
Should fame's wide-echoing trumpet swell;
rapture dwell; The vaunted sweets of praise remove,
Yet shall such bosoms claim a part
In all that glads the human heart; Yet these the spirits, form'd to judge and prove All nature's charms immense, and heaven's unbounded
And oh! the transport, most allied to song,
In some fair villa's peaceful bound,
And bid Arcadia bloom around: Whether we fringe the sloping hill,
Or smooth below the verdant mead;
Or thro' meandering mazes lead;
Or let some shelter'd lake serene
O sweet disposal of the rural hour!
O beauties never known to cloy!
And every gentle breast partakes the joy!
Enabled by these toils to cheer
A train of helpless infants dear, Speed whistling home across the plain; See vagrant luxury, her hand-maid grown,
For half her graceless deeds atone, And hails the bounteous work, and ranks it with her own.
Why brand these pleasures with the name
Search but the garden, or the wood,
admir'd carnation own,
Not all was meant for raiment or for food,
Not all for needful use alone; There while the seeds of future blossoms dwell, Tis colour'd for the sight, perfum'd to please the smell.
Why knows the nightingale to sing ?
Why flows the pine's nectareous juice?
For sustenance alone? For use
For preservation ? Every sphere
Some born to shun the solemn strife;
To sooth the certain ills of life;
New founts of bliss disclose,
From plains and woodlands; from the view
Of rural nature's blooming face,
Smit with the glare of rank and place,
There had she lavish'd all her care
To form a scene more dazzling fair,
retreat To share her proud controul ;
Had given the robe with grace to flow,
And, emulous of nature's pow'r,
Mimick'd the plume, the leaf, the flow'r;
And warp'd the very soul.
Awhile her magic strikes the novel eye,
Awhile the fairy forms delight;
And now aloof we seem to fly
Where all is wonderous, all is bright:
Awhile each dazzled maniac roves
By sapphire lakes, thro' em'rald groves.
Th' habitual scene of hill and dale,
The fragrance of the bean's perfume,
But soon the pageant fades away! 'Tis nature only bears perpetual sway.