LXXV.

It was a worthy, edifying sight, And gives to human-kind peculiar grace, To see kind hands attending day and night, With tender ministry, from place to place. Some prop the head; some from the pallid face Wipe off the faint cold dews weak Nature sheds; Some reach the healing draught: the whilst, to chase The fear supreme, around their soften'd beds, Some holy man by prayer all opening heaven dispreds.

LXXVI.

Attended by a glad acclaiming train,

Of those he rescued had from gaping hell,
Then turn'd the knight; and, to his hall again
Soft-pacing, sought of Peace the mossy cell.
Yet down his cheeks the gems of pity fell,

To see the helpless wretches that remain'd,
There left through delves and deserts dire to yell:
Amazed, their looks with pale dismay were stain'd,

And, spreading wide their hands, they meek repentance feign'd.

LXXVII.

But, ah! their scorned day of grace was past:
For, (horrible to tell!) a desert wild

Before them stretch'd, bare, comfortless, and vast;
With gibbets, bones, and carcasses defiled.
There nor trim field nor lively culture smiled;
Nor waving shade was seen, nor fountain fair :

But sands abrupt on sands lay loosely piled,
Through which they floundering toil'd with painful care,
Whilst Phoebus smote them sore, and fired the cloudless air.

LXXVIII.

Then, varying to a joyless land of bogs,
The sadden'd country a grey waste appear'd,

Where nought but putrid streams and noisome fogs
For ever hung on drizzly Auster's beard;

Or else the ground, by piercing Caurus sear'd,
Was jagg'd with frost, or heap'd with glazed snow.
Through these extremes a ceaseless round they steer'd,
By cruel fiends still hurried to and fro,

Gaunt Beggary, and Scorn, with many hell-hounds moe.

LXXIX.

The first was with base dunghill rags yclad,
Tainting the gale, in which they flutter'd light;
Of morbid hue his features, sunk, and sad;
His hollow eyne shook forth a sickly light;
And o'er his lank jaw-bone, in piteous plight,
His black rough beard was matted rank and vile;
Direful to see! a heart-appalling sight!

Meantime foul scurf and blotches him defile;
And dogs, where'er he went, still barked all the while.

LXXX.

The other was a fell despightful fiend :

Hell holds none worse in baleful bower below:
By pride, and wit, and rage, and rancour, keen'd;
Of man, alike if good or bad, the foe.

With nose up-turn'd, he always made a show

As if he smelt some nauseous scent: his eye

Was cold and keen, like blast from Boreal snow:
And taunts he casten forth most bitterly.

Such were the twain that off drove this ungodly fry.

LXXXI.

Even so through Brentford town, a town of mud,
A herd of bristly swine is prick'd along :

The filthy beasts, that never chew the cud,

Still grunt, and squeak, and sing their troublous song, And oft they plunge themselves the mire among; But aye the ruthless driver goads them on, And aye of barking dogs the bitter throng Makes them renew their unmelodious moan; Ne ever find they rest from their unresting fone.

END OF THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.

THE PERSONS DESCRIBED IN THE FIRST CANTO.

STANZAS LVII.-LIX.

Of all the gentle tenants of the place,

There was a man of special grave remark, &c.

These three stanzas are generally supposed to describe William Paterson, who was Thomson's deputy, and afterwards his successor, in the office of Surveyor-General of the Leeward Islands.

STANZA LX.

With him was sometimes join'd, in silent walk,
(Profoundly silent, for they never spoke,) &c.

This was intended to be the mental portrait of Dr. Armstrong, author of "the Art of preserving Health," one of the intimate friends of Thomson.

STANZA LXI.

Here lurk'd a wretch, who had not crept abroad For forty years, ne face of mortal seen, &c. A good description of Henry Welby, Esq. When he was about forty years of age, an attempt was made on his life by a profligate brother; in consequence of which he formed a resolution of retiring from the world. Taking a house in Grub-street, he reserved three rooms for himself; the first for his diet, the second for his lodging, and the third for his study. In these he kept himself so closely retired, that for forty-four years he was never seen by any human creature, except an old maid that attended him, who had been permitted to see him only in some cases of great necessity. He bought all the new books that were published: his time was regularly spent in reading, meditation, and prayer. He expended a great part of his income in acts of charity, and was very inquisitive after proper objects." Thomson's account of him is true to nature; for Welby's place of voluntary confinement was not like one of the splendid apartments in the "Castle of Indolence," in which was to be had, in the greatest perfection, every soothing appliance needful for the indulgence of luxurious idleness.

STANZAS LXII.-LXIV.

One day there chaunced into these halls to rove

A joyous youth, who took you at first sight, &c.

This is allowed to be an excellent picture of the cheerful John Forbes, son of the celebrated Lord President Forbes, and one of the kindest of Thomson's early patrons.

STANZAS LXV., LXVI.

Another guest there was, of sense refined,

Who felt each worth,-for every worth he had, &c.

This is a true portraiture of his best and kindest friend, George Lyttelton, Esq., afterwards Lord Lyttelton.

STANZA LXVII.

Here whilom ligg'd the' Esopus of the age;

But, call'd by Fame, in soul ypricked deep, &c. A good description of Quin, the celebrated actor.

STANZA LXVIII.

A bard here dwelt, more fat than bard beseems;
Who, void of envy, guile, and lust of gain, &c.

Thomson described himself in the first line; the rest of the stanza, which contains a highly complimentary delineation of some of the best traits in our poet, is said to have been written by his friend Lyttelton.

STANZA LXIX.

Full oft by holy feet our ground was trod;

Of clerks good plenty here you mote espy, &c.

The Rev. Patrick Murdoch, the school-fellow and biographer of Thomson, is here ludicrously delineated.

STANZA LXXIII.

One nymph there was, methought, in bloom of May,
On whom the idle fiend glanced many a look, &c.

This was intended for Lady Lyttelton, the Lucinda of the "Seasons." Neither she nor her noble Lord could be induced, by "the idle fiend," to become inmates of the Castle of Indolence.

STANZAS LXXV.-LXXVIII.

Alas the change! from scenes of joy and rest,

To this dark den, where sickness toss'd alway! &c.

These four stanzas were written by his friend, Dr. Armstrong; the subjects of them being congenial with his own professional studies.

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