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But paft is all his fame. The very spot
Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot.
Near yonder thorn that lifts its head on high,
Where once the fign-post caught the passing eye,
Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspir’d,
Where grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retir’d,
Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound,
And news much older than their ale went round.
Imagination fondly stoops to trace

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The parlour fplendors of that festive place ;
The white-wash'd wall, the nicely fanded floor,
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door ;
The chest contriv'd a double debt to pay,
A bed by night, a chest of draw'rs by day; 230
The pictures plac'd for ornament and use,
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose ;
The hearth, except when winter chilld the day,
With aspen boughs, and Aow'rs and fennel gay,
While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for shew, 235
Rang'd o'er the chimney, glisten'd in a row.

Vain transitory splendor ! cou'd not all
Reprieve the tott'ring mansion from its fall!
Obfcure it sinks, not shall it more impart
An hour's importance to the poor man's heart ; ; 240
Thither no more the peasant shall repair,
To sweet oblivion of his daily care ;
No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale,
No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail;
No more the fmith his dusky brow shall clear, 245
Relax his pond'rous strength, and lean to hear ;
The host himself no longer shall be found
Careful to see the mantling bliss go round;

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Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest,
Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest.

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Yes! let the rich deride the proud disdain,
Thele simple blessings of the lowly train,
To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
One native charm, than all the gloss of art;
Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play, 255
The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway;
Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind,
Unenvy'd, unmolested, unconfin'd.
But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade,
With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd,
In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain,
The toiling pleasure fickens into pain ;
And, ev’n while fashion's brightest arts decoy,
The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy.

Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey 26; The rich man's joys encrease, the poor's decay, 'T'is yours to judge, how wide the limits stand Between a splendid and a happy land. Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, And thouting Folly hails them from her shore ;

270 Hoards, ev'n beyond the miser's wish abound, And rich mien flock from all the world around. Yet count our gains. This wealth is but a name That leaves our useful product still the fame. Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride, 275 Takes up a space that many poor supply'd ; Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, Space for his horses, equipage and hounds; The robe that wraps his limbs in filken Noth, Has robb'd the neighb'ring fields of half their growth,

His feat, where solitary sports are seen,
Indignant spurns the cottage from the green ;
Around the world each needful product flies,
For all the luxuries the world supplies.
While thus the land adorn'd for pleasure all

295 In barren splendor feebly waits the fall.

As some fair female unadorn’d and plain,
Secure to please while youth confirms her reign.
Slights every borrow'd charm that dress supplies,
Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes :
But when those charms are past, for charms are frail,
When rime advances, and when lovers fail,
She then shines forth solicitous to bless,
In all the glaring impotence of dress.
Thus fares the land, by luxury betray'd,

295
In nature's simplest charms at first array'd,
But verging to decline, its fplerdors rise,
Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise ;
While, scourg'd by famine from the smiling land,
The mournful peasant leads his humble band;

300 And while he finks, without one arm to save, The country blooms—a garden, and a grave.

Where then, ah, where shall poverty reside,
To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride?
If to some common's fenceless limits stray'd

305
He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade,
Those fenceless fields the fons of wealth divide,
And ev’n the bare-worn conimon is denyd.

If to the city sped—What waits hin there? To see profusion that he must not share ;

310 To see ten thousand baneful arts combin'd To pamper luxury, and thin mankind;

To see each joy the sons of pleasure know,
Extorted from his fellow-creature's wo,
Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade, 315
There the pale artist plies the sickly trade ;
Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomps display,
There the black gibbet glooms beside the way.
The dome where pleasure holds her midnight reign,
Here, richly deckt, admits the gorgeous train ;

320
Tumultuous grandeur crouds the blazing square,
The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare.
Sure scenes like these no troubles ere annoy !
Sure these denote one universal joy!
Are these thy serious thoughts-Ah, turn thine eyes
Where the poor houseless shiv'ring female lies.
She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest,
Has wept at tales of innocence distreft ;
Her modest looks, the cottage might adorn,
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn;

330 Now loft to all; her friends, her virtue fled, Near her betrayer's door she lays her head, And, pinch'd with cold, and flrinking from the show'r, With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, When idly first, ambitious of the town,

335 She left her wheel and robes of country brown.

Do thine, sweet AUBURN, thine, the loveliest train, Do thy fair tribes participate her pain? Ev'n now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led, At proud mens doors they ask a little bread!

340 Ah, no. To distant climes, a dreary scene, Where half the convex world intrudes between, Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go, Where wild Altama murmurs to their wo.

Far different there from all that charm'd before,

345 The various terrors of that horrid shore; Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray, And fiercely shed intolerable day; Those matted woods where birds forget to sing, But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling ;

450 Those pois'nous fields with rank luxuriance crown'd, Where the dark scorpion gathers death around; Where at each step the stranger fears to wake The ratiling terrors of the vengeful snake ; Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey, 355 And favage men more murd'rous still than they; While oft in whiils the mad tornado Alies, Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies. Far different these from ev'ry former scene, The cooling brook, the graffy vested green, The breezy covert of the warbling grove, That only shelter'd thefts of harmless love.

Good Heav'n! what sorrowsgloom'd that parting day, That calld them from their native walks

away ; When the poor exiles, ev'ry pleasure past, 365 Hung round the bow'rs, and fondly look'd their laft, And took a long farewel, and wish'd in vain For seats like these beyond the western main ; And shudd'ring still to face the diftant deep, Return'd and wept, and still return’d to weep. 370 The good old fire, the first prepar'd to go To new-found worlds, and wept for others wo; But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave ; His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears,

375 The fond companion of his helpless years,

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