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And all your numerous progeny, well-trained But helpless, in few years shall find their hands, And labour too. Meanwhile ye shall not want What, conscious of your virtues, we can spare, Nor what a wealthier than ourselves may send. I mean the man, who, when the diftant poor Need help, denies them nothing but his name.
"But poverty with 'moft, who whimper forth Their long complaints, is self-inflicted woe; The effect of laziness or fottish wafte. 'Now goes the nightly thief prowling abroad For plunder; much folicitous how beft He may compensate for a day of sloth By works of darkness and nocturnal wrong. Woe to the gardener's pale, the farmer's hedge, Plashed neatly, and secured with driven ftakes Deep in the loamy bank. Uptorn by strength, Refiftless in so bad a cause, but lame To better deeds, he bundles up the spoil, An afs's burden, and, when laden moft And heaviest, light of foot steals faft away. Nor does the boarded hovel better guard The well-stacked pile of riven logs and roots From his pernicious force. Nor will he leave Unwrenched the door, however well secured,
Where Chanticleer amidst his haram Neeps
Pass where we may, through city or through town, Village, or hamlet, of this merry land, Though lean and beggared, every twentieth pace Conducts the unguarded nose to such a whiff Of ftale debauch, forth-issuing from the styes, That law has licensed, as makes temperance reel.
There fit, involved and loft in curling clouds
indigence and rapine; till at laft Society, grown weary of the load,
Shakes her incumbered lap, and cafts them out.
Would I had fallen upon those happier days, That poets celebrate; those golden times, And those Arcadian scenes, that Maro sings, And Sidney, warbler of poetic prose. Nymphs were Dianas then, and swains had hearts, That felt their virtues : innocence, it seems, From courts dismissed, found shelter in the groves ; The footsteps of fimplicity, impressed Upon the yielding herbage, (so they fing) Then were not all effaced : then speech profane, And manners profligate, were rarely found;
Observed as prodigies, and soon reclaimed. Vain with those days were never : airy dreams Sat for the picture: and the poet's hand, Imparting substance to an empty shade, Imposed a gay delirium for a truth. Grant it: I still must envy them an age, That favoured such a dream ; in days like these Impossible, when virtue is fo scarce, That to suppose a scene where she prefides, Is tramontane, and stumbles all belief. No: we are polished now. The rural lass, Whom once her virgin modesty and grace, Her artless manners, and her neat attire, So dignified, that she was hardly less Than the fair shepherdefs of old romance, Is feen no more. The character is loft! Her head, adorned with lappets pinned aloft, And ribbands streaming gay, superbly raised, And magnified beyond all human fize, Indebted to some smart wig-weaver's hand For more than half the treffes it sustains; Her elbows ruffled, and her tottering form Ill propped upon French heels; she might be deemed (But that the basket dangling on her arm Interprets her more truly) of a rank Too proud for dairy work, or sale of eggs.