B

O DE II.

By Mr. J. DUNCOMBE.

The Praises of a Country Life.

LESTI as our Sires of old is he, Who, from vexatious Business free, Tills an hereditary Plain,

Unfully'd by the Love of Gain.

No Trumpet breaks his peaceful Sleep,
No Danger dreads he from the Deep.
Far from the Forum, and the Gate
Of the contemptuous Rich and Great,
Pleas'd, round the Poplar's Height he twines
His clasping marriageable Vines ;

Lops ufelefs Boughs, and, on the Tree,
Ingrafts a hopeful Progeny ;

Or, in a secret Vale, surveys

His Cattle lowing as they graze ;

His Flocks, with Fleece o'erburden'd, fhears,

Or lays his Honey up in Jars.

"But o'er the Fields his graceful Head
When Autumn rears, with Fruit o'erfpread,,
With Joy the Pear, or Grape, whose Dye
Not ev'n the Crimson can outvye,

He plucks; Sylvanus! thy Rewards,
Or his, who ftill his Orchard guards.

*

Now in an Oak's embowering Shade,
Now on the Grafs behold him laid!
While near him rolls a rapid Flood,
And Songsters warble in the Wood;
And, gurgling down the verdant Steep,"
Cascades prolong his balmy Sleep.

"But when ftern Jove with wintry Storms The Beauty of the Year deforms, With Hounds on every Side befet, He drives fierce Boars into his Net, .! Or with nice Art flight Mefhes lays, And the voracious Thrufh betrays; Or (grateful Prizes!) in a Snare Beguiles the foreign Crane, or Hare.

"Who, thus employ'd, has Time to prove The foft Anxieties of Love?

But if a chafte and chearful Wife,

To crown the Bleffings of his Life,
Should o'er his cleanly House prefide,
His Family and Children guide;

(Like Sabine Dames, though tann'd they were
With Summer Suns, and fultry Air)
And make the well-dry'd Billets burn
Against her Husband's wifh'd Return;
In Folds his joyful Goats reftrain,
And all their milky Treasure drain;
With Wine of this Year's Vintage greet,

3

And give him an 3 unpurchas'd Treat;

No Lucrine Oyfters would I wish
To taste; nor Turbot; nor the Fish,

Which from the Eaftern Sea is toft
By Storms, on our Italian Coast :
Nor Heathpouts, nor the Libyan Bird,
So fcarce, fhould ever be preferr'd
To my own Olives, lufcious Fare!
From loaded Branches cull'd with Care;
Or to wild Mallows, wholefome Food!
Or Shards, which love the marshy Flood;
Or Lambkin flain on feftal Day,

Or 4 Kid, from Wolves juft fnatch'd away.
"Pleas'd, at fuch Meals, fhall I behold
My Sheep returning to the Fold;

My slowing Oxen, tir'd and flow,
With loofen'd Traces drag the Plough ;

And all my Slaves, that fwarm, like Bees,
Round blithe Houfhold Deities."

my

This to himfelf old Alfius faid; And, panting for the rural Shade, In Hafte call'd all his Money in ; Next Week he put it out again.

NOTES.

1 Ut prifca gens mortalium.] The first Inhabitants of the Earth were either Labourers or Shepherds; but perhaps Horace here only refers to the Simplicity of the old Romans. Thus 2 Cincinnatus, to use the Words of Columella, Ab aratro vocatus ad Dictaturam, rurfus fascibus depofitis, ad eofdem juvencos et quatuor jugerum avitum berediolum rediit: Having been called from the Plough to the Dictatorship, foon laid down the Fafces again, and returned to his Oxen, and his hereditary Farm of four Acres."

2 Exercet.] This is the proper Phrase for ploughing the Earth. Thus Virgil,

Exercetque frequens tellurem, atque imperat arvis.

3 Dapes inemptas apparet.] Thus Virgil, of his old Corycian,

·ferâque revertens

Nocte domum, dapibus menfas onerabat inemptis.

With unbought Stores he crown'd his frugal Board.
GEORG. IV. 133. .

Hoedus ereptus lupo.] Horace, after having told us that his Countryman fed upon Kid only once a Year, adds this Verfe, to fhow, that, if he eat it oftener, it was only when he had snatched it from the Jaws of the Wolf. He was obliged to eat it then, as otherwife it would have been lost.

5 Mugientium profpe&at greges.] Virgil alfo reckons the Lowing of Oxen among the Pleafures of the Country : Mugitufque boum, mollefque fub arbore fomni, Non abfunt. GEORG. II. 4701 The lowing Herds there_sooth the careless Mind, And Slumbers court us in the Shade reclin'd.

The SAME ODE Imitated.

By ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE, Efq;

On the late Earl of GRANVILLE's taking the Seals.

THR

HRICE happy, who free from Ambition
and Pride,

In a rural Retreat has a quiet Fire-fide!
I love my Fire-fide: Thither let me repair,
And drink a delightful Oblivion of Care.

Oh

Oh when fhall I 'fcape, to be truly my own,
From the Noife, and the Smoak, and the Buftle of

Town!

Then I live, then I triumph, whene'er I retire From the Pomp and Parade that the Many admire. Hail, ye Woods and ye Lawns, fhady Vales, funny Hills,

And the Warble of Birds, and the Murmur of Rills; Ye Flowers of all Hues that embroider the Ground, Flocks feeding, or frifking in Gambols around; Scene of Joy to behold! Joy that who would forego,

For the Wealth and the Power that a Court can beftow?

403

I have faid it at home, I have faid it abroad, That the Town is Man's World, but that this is

of God.

Fal

Here my Trees cannot flatter: Plants, nurs'd by my Care,

Pay with Fruit or with Fragrance, and incenfe

the Air:

Here contemplative Solitude raises the Mind,
(Leaft alone, when alone) to Ideas refin'd.
Methinks hid in Groves that no Sound can invade,
Save when Philomel ftrikes up her sweet Serenade,
I revolve on the Changes and Chances of Things,
And pity the Wretch that attends upon Kings.
"Now I pafs with old Authors an indolent
Hour,

And reclining at Eafe turn Demofthenes o'er.

Now,