Class l:J: 
 
 Book 
 
 
THE 
 
 TASK, 
 
 AND 
 
 TIROCINIUM, 
 
 OR, A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 
 WITFI OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM COWPER, 
 
 OF THE INNER ^KMPLE, ESQ^ 
 
 Fit snrculus arbor. 
 
 Anon 
 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 5L1SHED BY M'CARTY & DAVIS. 
 
 No. 204, Market street. 
 
 1821, 
 

 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The history of the following produc- 
 tion, is briefly this: A lady, fond of 
 blank verse, demanded a poem of that 
 kind from the author, and gave him 
 the Sofa for a subject. He obeyed ; 
 and, having much leisure, connected 
 another subject with it ; and pursuing 
 the train of thought to which his situa- 
 tion and turn of mind led him, brought 
 forth, at length, instead of the trifle 
 which he at .first intended, a serious af- 
 fair — a volume. 
 
 In the Poem on the subject of Edu- 
 cation, he would be very sorry to stand 
 suspected of having aimed his censure 
 at any particular school. His objections 
 are such as naturally apply themselves 
 to schools in general. If there were not, 
 as for the most part there is, wilful ne- 
 glect in those who manage them, and an 
 omission even of such discipline as they 
 
iv ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 are susceptible of, the objects are yet 
 too numtrous for minute attention : and 
 the aching hearts of ten thousand pa- 
 rents, mourning under the bitterest of 
 all disappointments, attest the truth of 
 the allegation. His quarrel, therefore, 
 is with the mischief at large, and not 
 with any particular instance of it. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 THE TASK, in Six Books. 
 
 Book I. The Sofa, - - • - 9 
 
 II. The Tune-piece, • - 31 
 
 III. The Garden, .... 55 
 
 IV. The Winter Evening, 79 
 V. The Winter Mornng; Walk, - 103 
 
 VI. The Winter Walk at Noon, - 129 
 
 Epistle to Joseph Hill, Esq. ... 157 
 
 Tirocinium: or, a Review of Schools. - - 159 
 
 To the Reverend Mr. Newton, - - 187 
 On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture out of 
 
 Norfolk, .--. - .189 
 
THE TASK. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST BOOK. 
 
 Historical deduction of seats, from the Stool to the 
 Sofa.... A Schoolboy's ramble.... A walk in thecoun- 
 try....The scene described....Rui al sounds as well as 
 sights delightfuL—Another v k....Mistake concern- 
 ing the charms of solitude corrected....Colonnaues 
 COmmended....Alcove, and the view from it....The 
 wilderness.... The grove.... The thresher —The. neces- 
 sity and benefits of exercise.... The works of nature 
 superior to, and in some instances inimitably by, art 
 ....The wearisomeness of what is commonlj called a 
 Jifebfpleasure..»Change of scene sometimes expedient 
 ,...A common described, and the character of crazy 
 Kate iiiuoduced....Gipsies....The blessing of civi- 
 lized life.... I hat state most favourable to virtue.... 
 Tht South Sea islanders compassionated, but chiefly 
 Qmai....His present state of mind supposed. ...Civi. 
 lized life friendly to virtue, but not great cities.... 
 Great cities, and London in particular, allowed their 
 due praises, but censured....Fete champetre-..The 
 book concludes with a reflection on the latal 
 of dissipation and eftemh acy upon our public mea- 
 sures. 
 
THE TASK. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 THE SOFA. 
 
 I SING the Sofa. I, who lately sang 
 
 Truth. Hope, and Charity,* and touch 'd with awe 
 
 The solemn chords, and, with a trembling liand, 
 
 Escap'd with pain from that advent'ious flight, 
 
 Now seek repose upon an Humbler th< me . 
 
 The theme, though humble, yet august and proud ^ 
 
 Th' occasion— for the Fair comma'ud* the song. 
 
 Time was, when clothing, sumptuous or for use, 
 Save their own painted skins, our sires had none. 
 As yet black breeches were not; satin smooth, 
 Or velvet soft, or plush with shaggy pile; 
 TJiehardj chief, upon the rugged reck 
 Washed b> th;.' sea, or on tin- gravelly bank 
 Thrown up by wintrj torrents roaring loud, 
 Fearless oi wrong, repos'd his wear) strength, 
 Thosi bat b'rousagi s past, sueceed< d next 
 Thebirthdaj of Inveiition ; weak ait first, 
 Didl ind sign, a:.d Shunsy to perform. 
 
 • logs 
 
 Upborne they st iud. Three legs upholding firm 
 A massy slab, iil fashion square or round. 
 On such a stool in. mortal Alii"' d sat. 
 And »waj".'d thesceptreol his in&nt ims: 
 A»'d 5-.icii in anci :*t hails and iCansrins drear 
 til) be seen ; bui perfc 
 
 * See fuetns, VoU I, 
 A 3 
 
10 THE TASK. 
 
 And drill'd in holes, the solid oak is found, 
 
 By worms voracious eating through and through. 
 
 At length a generation more refin'd 
 Improved the simple plan ; made three legs four, 
 Gave them a twisted form -vermicular, 
 And o'er the seat, with plenteous wadding stuft'M, 
 Indne'd a splendid cover, green and blue, 
 Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wrought 
 And woven close, or needlework sublime. 
 There might ye see the piony spread wide, _ 
 The full-blown rose, the shepherd and his lass, 
 Lapdog and lambkin with black staring eyes, 
 And parrots with twin cherries in their beak. 
 
 Now came the eanefrom India, smooth and bright, 
 With Nature's varnish; sever'd into stripes, 
 That interlac'deach other, these supplied 
 Of texture firm a lattice-work, that brac'd 
 Tht j new machine, and it became a chair. 
 But restless was the chair ; the back erect 
 Distress'd the weary loins, that felt no ease ; 
 The slipp'ry seat betrayed the sliding part 
 That press'tl it, and the feet hung dangling down, 
 Anxious in vain to find the distant floor. 
 These for the rich ; the rest, whom Fate had plac'd 
 In modest mediocrity, content 
 With base materials, sat on well-tann'd hides, 
 Obdurate and unyielding, glassy smooth, 
 With here and there a tuft of crimson yarn, 
 Or scarlet crewel, in the cushion fix'd, 
 If cushion might be call'd, what harder seem'd 
 Than the firm oak, of which the frame was fornTd. 
 No want of timber then was felt or fear'd 
 In Albion's hawpy isle. The lumber stood 
 Fond'rous and fix'd by its own massy weight. 
 But elbows still were wanting; these, some say, 
 An alderman of Cripplegate contriv'd ; 
 And some ascribe th' invention to a priest 
 Burly, and big, and studious of his ease. 
 But rudt at first, and not with eas> slope 
 Receding wide, they press'd against the ribs, 
 
THE SOFA. 1 
 
 And bruis'd the side ; and, elevated high, 
 Taught the raisM shoulders to invade the ears. 
 Long timeejaps'd or e'er our rugged sires 
 Complain'd, though incommodiously pent inj 
 And ill at tase behind. The ladies first 
 'Gan murmur, as became the softer sex. 
 Ingenious Fancy, never better pleas'd 
 Than when employ 'd t' accominoda'e the fair, 
 Heard the sweet moan with pity, and devis'd 
 The soft settee: one elbow at each end, 
 And in the midst an elbow it receiv'd, 
 United yet divided, twain at once. 
 So sit two kings of Brentford on one throne ; 
 And so two citizens, who take the air, 
 Close paek'd, and smiling, in a chaise and one. 
 Rut relaxation of the languid frame, 
 By soft recumbency of outstretch'd limbs, 
 Was bliss reserv'd for happier days. So slow 
 Tin growth of what is excellent ; so hard 
 T' attain perfection in this nether world. 
 Thus first Necessity invented stools, 
 Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs, 
 And Luxury th' accomplished So/a last. 
 
 The nurse sleeps sweetly, hir'd to watch the sick, 
 Whom snoring she disturbs. As sweetly he, 
 Who quits the coach-box at the midnight hour, 
 To sleep within the carriage more secure, 
 His legs depending at I he open door. 
 Sweet sleep enjoys the curate in his desk, 
 The tedious rector drawling o'er his head ; 
 And sweet the clerk below. But neither sleep 
 Of lazy nurse, w ho snores the sick man dead ; 
 Nor his, who quits the box at midnight hour 
 To slumber in the carriage more secure; 
 Nov sleep enjoy'd by curate in his desk ; 
 Nor yet the dozings of the clerk, are sweet, 
 Compar'd with the repose the Sofa yields. 
 
 O may I live exempted (while I live 
 Guiltless of pamper'd appetite obscene - '' 
 
12 THE TASK. 
 
 From pangs arthritic, that infest the t« 
 
 Of libertine Excess. The Sofa suits 
 
 The gouty limb, 'tis true : but gouty limb, 
 
 Though on a Sofa, may I never feel: 
 
 For I have lov'd the rural walk through lanes 
 
 Of grassy swarlh, close cropp'd by nibbling sheep. 
 
 And skirted thick with intertexture firm 
 
 Of thorny boughs : have lov'd the rural walk 
 
 O'er hills, through valleys, and by rivers' brink. 
 
 E'er since a truant boy I pass'd my bounds 
 
 T' enjoy a ramble on the banks of Thames; 
 
 And stil! remember, not with >ut regret, 
 
 Of hours, that sorrow since has much endearM, 
 
 How oft, my Mice of pocket store consum'd, 
 
 Still hung'ring, pennyless, and far from home, 
 
 I fed on scarlet lups and stony haws. 
 
 Or blushing crabs, or berries, that emboss 
 
 The bramble, black as jet, or sloes austere. 
 
 Maid fare! but such as boyish appetite 
 
 Disdains not; nor the palate, undepvav'd 
 
 By culinary art*, unsav'ry deems. 
 
 No Sofa then awaited my return ; 
 
 Nor Sofa then I needed. Youth repair* 
 
 His wasted spirits quickly, by long toil 
 
 Incurring short I I, though our 5 ears, 
 
 As life declines, sp< :d rapidly away, 
 
 And not a year but pilfers as he goes 
 
 Some youthful grace, that age vould gladly keep; 
 
 Atooih or auburn lock, and ; . degrees 
 
 Their length and colour from the locks they spare 
 
 The elastic spring of ant earied foot, 
 
 That mounts the stil ; with ease, or leaps the fence : 
 
 Thai play of lungs, inhaling and again 
 
 rig freely the fresh air, that makes 
 Swift, pace or steep ascent no toil to ine, 
 Mim have not pilft r'd 3 pi ; nor yet impair'd 
 My relish of fair prospect ; scenes that sooth'd 
 Or cbarm'd me young, no longer young, 1 find 
 Still sj.-rtimg, and of pow'r to charm me still. 
 And witness, depr companion ot my walks, 
 \V hose arm this twentieth » e 
 
VI 
 
 ■lili.as love, 
 Coufirm'd bj long experience »fthy. worth 
 And well-tried virtues, could alone inspire— 
 Witness a joy that thou hast doubted long. 
 Thou know'st my praise of nature most sincere, 
 And that my raptures arc not conjjuj \i up 
 To serve occasions of poetic pomp, 
 But genuine, and art partner of thein all. 
 How oft upon yon eminence our pace 
 Has slackenV. to a pause, and we have borne 
 The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew, 
 "While Admiration, feeding at the eye, 
 And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene. 
 Thence, with what pleasure ha?e we just discern'd 
 The distant plough slow moving, and beside 
 His lab'ring team, that swcrv'd not from the track, 
 The sturdy swain diminish'd to a boy ! 
 Here Ouse, slow winding through a level plain 
 Of spacious meads, with cattle sprinkled o'er, 
 Conducts the eye along his sinuous course 
 Delighted. There, fast rooted in their bank, 
 Stand, never overlook 'd, our fav'rite elms, 
 That screen the herdsman's solitary hut ; 
 While far beyond, and uverthwartlhe stream, 
 That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale, 
 The sloping land recedes into the clouds ; 
 Display ing on its varied side the grace 
 Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tow'r, 
 Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells 
 Just undulates upon the list 1 ning ear, 
 Groves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote. 
 Scenes must be beautiful, which daily \iew'd 
 Please daily, and whose novelty survives 
 't,ong knowledge and the scrutiny of years. 
 Praise justly due to those that I describe. 
 
 Nov rural sights alone, but rural sounds, 
 Exhilarate the spirit, and restore 
 The tone of languid Nature. Mighty winds, 
 That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading 
 Of ancient growth, make music not unlike 
 
14 THE TASK. 
 
 The dash of Ocean on his winding shore, 
 
 And lull the spirit while they fill the mind ; 
 
 Uiinumber'd branches waving in the blast, 
 
 And all their leaves fast Him'ring, all at once. 
 
 Nor less composure waits upon the roar 
 
 Of distant floods, or on the softer voice 
 
 Of neighb'ring fountain, or of rills that slip 
 
 Through the cleft rock, and, chiming as they fall 
 
 Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at- length «f? 
 
 In matted grass, that with a livelier green 
 
 Betrays the secret of their silent course. 
 
 Nature inanimate employs sweet sounds, 
 
 But animated nature sweeter still, 
 
 To sooth and satisfy the human ear. 
 
 Ten thousand warblers cheer the day, and one 
 
 The livelong night ; nor these alone, whose notes 
 
 Nice-finger'd Art must emulate in vain, 
 
 But cawing rooks, and kites that swim sublime 
 
 In still-re peated circles, screaming loud, 
 
 The jay, the pie, and e'en the boding owl, 
 
 That hails the rising moon, have charms for mc. 
 
 Sounds inharmonious in themselves and harsh, 
 
 Yet heard in scenes where peace forever reigns, 
 
 And only there, please highly for their sake. 
 
 Peace to the artist, whose ingenious thought 
 Devis'd the weatlnrhouse, that useful toy ! 
 Fearless of humid air and gath'ring rains, 
 Forth steps the man— an emblem of myself! 
 More delicate his tim'rous mate retires. 
 When Winter soaks the fields, and female feet. 
 Too weak to struggle with tenacious clay, 
 Or ford the rivulets, are best at home, 
 The task of new discov'ries falls on me. 
 At such a season, and with such a charge, 
 Once went I forth; and found, till then unknown, 
 A cottage, whither oft we since repair: 
 '1 is perch'd upon the green hill top, but close 
 Enviro :.'d with a ring of branching elms, 
 That overhang the thatch, itself unseen 
 
THE SOFA. 15 
 
 Peeps at the vale below ; so thick beset 
 With foliage of such dark redundant growth, 
 I call'd the low-roof d lodge the peasant's nest- 
 And, hidden as it is, and far remote 
 From such unpleasing sounds as haunt the ear 
 In village or in town, the bay of curs 
 Incessant, clinking hammers, grinding wheels, I 
 And infants clam'rous whether pleas *d or pain'd, 
 Oft have I wish'd the peaceful covert mine. 
 Here, I have said, at least I should possess 
 The poet's treasure, Silence, and indulge 
 The dreams of fancy, tranquil and secure. 
 Vain thought ! the dweller in that still retreat, 
 Dearly obtains the refuge it affords. 
 Its elevated site forbids the wretch 
 To drink sweet waters of the crystal well; 
 He dips his bowl into the weedy ditch, 
 And, heavy laden, brings his bev'rage home, 
 Far fetch 'd and little worth; nor seldom waits, 
 Dependant on the baker's punctual call, 
 To hear his creaking panniers at the door, 
 Angry, and sad, and his last crust consum'd. 
 So farewell envy of the peasant's neat .' 
 If solitude make scant the means of life, 
 I Society for me !— thou seeming sweet, 
 Be still a pleasing object in my view; 
 My visit still, but never mine abode. 
 
 Not distant far, a length of colonnade 
 Invites us. Monument of ancient taste, 
 Now scovn'd, but worthy of a better fate. 
 Our fathers knew the value of a screen 
 From sultry suns : and, in their shaded walks 
 And long protracted bow'rs, enjoy'd at noou 
 The gloom and coolness of declining day. 
 We bear our shades about us ; self-depriv'd 
 Of other screen, the thin umbrella spread, 
 And range an Indian waste without a tree. 
 Thanks to Benevolus*— he spares me yet 
 
 * John Courtney Throckmorton. Esq. of Weston Un- 
 tknvood. 
 
16 THE TASK. 
 
 These chesnuts rang'd in corresponding lines ; 
 Andythough himself so polish'd, still reprieves 
 The pbsolete prolixity of shade. 
 
 Descending cow (bin cautious, lest too fast) 
 \ sudden stei p ihkhi a rustic b'idge, 
 We pass a gulf, in which the willows dip 
 
 pendent boughs, stooping as if to drink, 
 ankle deep in moss and ilow'ry thyme, 
 Mint again, and feel at cv'ry step 
 Our foot hair sunk in hillocks green and soft, 
 RaisM by the moie, the miner of the soil. 
 He. net iinlike the great ones of mankind, 
 Disfigures Earth : and, plotting in the dark, 
 Toils much to earn a monumental pile 
 That may record the mischiefs he has done. 
 
 The summit gain'd, beho'il the proud alcove 
 That crowns it ! yet not all its pride secures 
 The grand retreat from injuries impress'd 
 By rural carvers, who with knives deface 
 The panels, leaving an obscure, rude name, 
 In characters uncouth, and spelt amiss. 
 So strong the zeal t' immortalize himself 
 Beats in the breast of man, that e'en a few, 
 Few transient years, won from th' abyss abhorrd 
 Of blank oblivion, seem a glorious prize, 
 And even to a clown. Now roves the eye ; 
 And, posted on this speculative height, 
 Exults in its command. The iheepfold here 
 Pours out its rleecy tenants o'er the glebe. 
 At first, progressive as a stream, they seek 
 The middle field ; but, scatfer'd by d< grees, 
 Each to his choice, soon white it all the land. 
 There from the sunburn) ha} Th Id homeward creeps 
 The loaded wain ; whih \ lighteu'd of its charge, 
 Th. \\. in that meets it reuses s"wiftly by; 
 Th. boorish driver leaning 0V1 his team 
 Vocif'roiii. and iinpatienl el. by 
 JJor less attractive is the woodland scene* 
 
THE SOFA. 
 
 Diversified with trees of ev'ry growth, 
 
 Alike, yet various. Here the gray smooth trunks 
 
 Of a-.li. or lime, or beech, distinctly shine, 
 
 Within the twilight ol their distant shades; 
 
 There, lost behind a rising ground, the wood 
 
 Seems sunk, and shorten'd to its topmost boughs. 
 
 No tree in all the grove but has its charms, 
 
 Though each its hue peculiar; paler some. 
 
 And of a wannish gray ; the willow such, 
 
 And poplar, that with silver lines his leaf,. 
 
 And ash far-stretching his umbrageous arm; 
 
 Of deeper green the elm: and deeper still, 
 
 Lord of the woods, the long surviving oak. 
 
 Some glossy leav'd, and shining in the sun, 
 
 Tli< maple, and the beech of oily nuts 
 
 Prolific, and the lime at dewy eve 
 
 Diffusing odours : nor unnoted pass 
 
 The sycamore, capricious in attire, 
 
 Now gyr en, now tawny, and, ere autumn yet 
 
 Have chaug'd the woods, in scarlet honours bright. 
 
 O'er these, but, far beyond (a spacious map 
 
 Of hill and valley interpos'd between) 
 
 The Ouse, dividing the well-water'd land, 
 
 Now glitters in the sun, aid now retires, 
 
 As bashful, yet impatient to bt seen. 
 
 Hence the declivity is sharp and short, 
 
 And such the reascent ; between them weeps 
 
 A little naiad her impovVish'd urn 
 
 All summer long, which winter fills again. 
 
 The folded gates would bar my progress now, 
 
 But that the lord* of this enclos'd demesne, 
 
 Communicative of the good he owns, 
 
 Admits me to a share ; the guiltless e>e 
 
 Commits no wrong, nor wastes what it enjoys. 
 
 Befn shing change! where now the blazing sun? 
 
 By short transition we have*lost his glare, 
 
 And stepp'd at once into a cooler clime. 
 
 Ye fallen avenues ! once more I mourn 
 
 * See the foregoing note. 
 
IS 1 HE TASK. 
 
 Your fate unmerited, once more rejoice 
 That jet a remnant of jour race survives. 
 How airy and how light the graceful arch, 
 Yet awful as the consecrated roof 
 Re-echoing pious anthems ! while beneath 
 The checker'd earth seem? restless as a flood 
 Brush 'd by the wind. So sportive is the light 
 Shot through the houghs, it dances as they dance, 
 Shadow and sunshine intermingling quick, 
 And darkening, and enlight'ning, as the leaves 
 Play wanton, ev'ry moment, . v*ry spot. 
 
 And now, with nerves new brac'd and spirits cheer'd. 
 We tread the wilderness, whose well-roll'd walks, 
 With curvature of slow and easy sweep— 
 Dec-ption innocent— give ample space 
 To narrow bounds. The grove receives us next ; 
 Between the upright shafts of whose tall elms 
 We may discern the thresher at his task. 
 Thump after thump resounds the constant flail, 
 That seems to swing uncertain, and yet falls 
 Full on the destin'd ear. Wide flies the chaff*, 
 The rustling straw sends up a frequent mist 
 Of atoms, sparkling in the noonday beam. 
 Come hither, ye that press your beds of down, 
 And sleep not ; se< him sweating o'er his bread 
 Bi fore he eats it. — 'Tis the primal curse, 
 But soften'd into mercy ; made the pledge 
 Of cheerful days and nights without a groan. 
 
 By c astl ss action all that is subsists. 
 Constant rotation of th' unwearied wheel 
 That Nature rides upon, maintains her health, 
 Her beauty, her fertility. Slit dreads 
 An instant's pause, and lives but while she moves : 
 Its own revolvency upholds the World, 
 Winds from all quarters agitate the air, 
 And fit the limpid element for use, 
 Else noxious; oceans, rivers, lakes, and streams, 
 All feel the ftvsh'ning impulse, and are cleans'd 
 By restless undulation : e'en the oak 
 Thrives by the rude concussion of the storm: 
 
 
THE SOFA. 19 
 
 He seems indeed indignant, and to feel 
 Th' impression of the blast with proud disdain, 
 frowning, as if in his unconscious arm 
 He held the thunder: but the monarch owes 
 His firm stability to what he scorns, 
 More fix'd below, the more disturbed above. 
 The law, by which all creatures else ar< j bound, 
 Binds man, the Lord of all. Jfimself derives 
 No mean advantage from a kindred cause, 
 From strenuous toil his hours of sweetest ease. 
 The sedentary stretch their lazy It ngth 
 When Custom bids, but no refreshment find, 
 For none they need : the languid eye, the cheek 
 Deserted of its bloom, the flaccid, shrunk, 
 And w ither'd muscle, and the vapid soul, 
 Reproach their owner with that love of rest, 
 To which he forfeits e'en the rest he loves. 
 Not suds the alert and active. Measure life 
 By its true worth, the com orts it a.Tords, 
 And rheir's alone si ems worthy of the name. 
 Good health, and. its associate in the most, 
 Good tamper; spirits prompt to undertake, 
 And lot soon spent, though in an arduous task; 
 The powYs of fancy and strong thought are theirs ; 
 E'en a°;e itself seems privileg'd in them 
 "With clear exemption from its own defects. 
 A sparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front 
 The vt-t'ran shows, and, gracing a gray beard 
 "With youthful smiles, descends toward the grave 
 Sprightly, and old almost without decay. 
 
 Like a coy maiden, Ease, when courted most, 
 Furthest retires— an idol, at whose shrine 
 \VKo oft'nest sacrifice are favour'd least. 
 The love of Nature, and the scenes she draws, 
 Is nature's dictate. Strange ! there should be found, 
 "Who, self-imprison 'd in their proud saloons, 
 Renounce the odours of the open field 
 For the unscented fictions ot the loom ; 
 "Who, satisfied with ouly pencill'd scenes, 
 Prefer to the performance of a God 
 
20 THE TASK. 
 
 Th' inferior wonders of a^ a> tist's hand ! 
 Lovely indeed the mimic works >f Art; 
 But Nature's works far lovelier. 1 admire, 
 None more admires the painter's magic skill; 
 Who shows me that which I shall ..ever see, 
 Conveys a distant country into mine. 
 And throws Italian"1ighton English walls: 
 But imitative strokes can do no more 
 Tha': please the eye— sweet Nature's ev'ry sens£. 
 The air salubrious of her lofty hills. 
 The cheering fragrance of her dewy vales, 
 And music of her woods— no works of man 
 May rival these, these all bespeak a pow'r 
 Peculiar, and exclusively her own. 
 ^Beneath the open sky she spreads the feast 
 'Tisfree to all— 'tis ev'ry day re.ievv'd; 
 Who scorns it starves deservedly at home. 
 He dees not scorn it, who, impriso..'d long 
 In some unwholesome dungeon* and a prey 
 To sallow sickness, which the vapours, dank 
 And clammy, of his dark abode tow oied, 
 Escapi s at last to liberty and light : 
 His cheek recovers soon its healthful hue; • 
 
 His eye rdumines its extinguished tires ; 
 He walks, he leaps, he runs— is wing'd with jov. 
 And riots in the sweets of ev'ry breeze. 
 He does not scorn it, who has long endur'd 
 A fever's agonies, and fed on drugs. 
 Nor yet the mariner, his blood iullam'd 
 With acrid salts: his very heart athirst, 
 To ^aze at Nature in her green array, 
 Upon the ship's tall side he stands, possess'J 
 With visions prompted by intense desire : 
 Fair fields appear below, such as he left 
 Far distant, such as he would die to find- 
 He seeks them headlong, and is seen no more. 
 
 Th< spleen is seldom felt where Flora reigns; 
 Th; l.nvYing eye, the petulance, the frown, 
 And sullen sadness, that o'er shade, distort, 
 And mar, the face of Beauty, when no cause 
 
THE SOFA. 21 
 
 For such immeasurable wo appeal's, 
 
 Those Flora banishes, and gives the fair 
 
 Sweet smiles, and bloom less transient thanherown. 
 
 It is th< constant revolution, stale 
 
 And tasteless, of the same repeated joys, 
 
 That palU and satiates, and makes languid life 
 
 A pedlar's pack, that bows the bearer down. 
 
 Health surfers, and the spirits ebb, the heart 
 
 Recoils from its own choice— at the full feast 
 
 Is famish'd— finds no music in the song, 
 
 No smartness in the jest ; and wonders why. 
 
 Yet thousands still desire to journey on, 
 
 Though halt, and weary of the path they tread. 
 
 The paralytic, who can hold her cards, 
 
 Bin cannot play them, borrows a friend's hand, 
 
 To deal and shuffle, to divide and sort 
 
 Her mingled suits and sequences ; and sits, 
 
 Spectatress both and spectacle; a sad 
 
 And silent cipher, while her pioxy plays. 
 
 Others are dragg'd into a crowded room 
 
 Between supporters; and, once seated, sits, 
 
 Through downright inability to rise, 
 
 Till the stout bearers lift the corpse again. 
 
 These speak a loud memento. Yet e'en these 
 
 Themselves love life, and cling to it, as he 
 
 That overhangs a torrent, to a twig. 
 
 They love it, and yet loathe it ; fear to die, 
 
 Yet scorn the purposes for which they live. 
 
 Then wherefore not renounce them ? No— the dread, 
 
 The slavish dread of solitude, that breeds 
 
 Reflection and remorse, the fear of shame, 
 
 And their invet'rate habits, all forbid. 
 
 Whom call we gay ? That honour has been long 
 The boast of mere pretenders to the name. 
 The innocent are gay— the lark is gay, 
 That dries his feathers, saturate with dew, 
 Beneath the rosy cloud, while yet the beams 
 Of day spring overshoot his humble nest. 
 The peasant too, a witness of his song, " 
 Himself a songster, is as gay as i«e. 
 
22 THE TASK. 
 
 But save me from the gayety of those 1 , 
 Whose headachs nail them to a noonday bed ; 
 And save me too from theirs, whose haggard eyes 
 \Flash desperation, and betra> their pangs 
 For property stripp'd of by cruel chance; 
 From gayety, that fills the bones with pain. 
 The mouth with blasphemy, the heart with wo. 
 
 The Earth was made so various, that the mind 
 Of desultory man, studious of change, 
 And phas'd with novelty, might be indulg'd. 
 Prospects, however lovely, may be seen 
 Till half their beauties fade : the weary sight 
 Too well acquainted with their smiles, slides ofT}* 
 Fastidious, seeking less familiar scenes. 
 Then sung enclosures in the shelter 'd vale, 
 Where frequent hedges intercept the eye, 
 Delight us ; happy to renounce awhile, 
 Not senseless of its charms, what still we love, 
 That such short absence may endear i' more. 
 Then forests, or the savage rock, may please, 
 That hides the sea mCW in his hollow clefts 
 Above the reach of man. His hoary head, 
 Conspicuous many a league, the mariner 
 Bound homeward, and in hope already there, 
 Greets with three cheers exulting. At his waist 
 A girdle of half-wither'd shrubs he shows, 
 And at his feet the baffled billows die. 
 The common, overgrown with fern, and rough 
 With prickly gorse, that, shapeless and deform'd 
 And dang'rous to the touch, has yet its bloom, 
 And decks itself with ornaments of gold. 
 Yields nounpleasing ramble; there the turf 
 Sim lis fresh, and, rich in odorif 'rous herbs • ■ 
 And fungous fruits oi '■. ai th, regales the sense 
 With luxury of unexpected sweets. 
 
 There often wanders one, whom better days 
 Saw better clad, in cloak of satin trimm'd 
 With lace, and hat with splendid riband bound, 
 A serving maid was she, and fell in love 
 With one who left her went to sea, and died. 
 
THE SOFA. 
 
 Her fancy follow'd him through foaming waves 
 To distant shores ; and she would sit and weep 
 At what a sailor suffers ; fancy too, 
 Delusive most where warmest wishes are, 
 Would oft anticipate his glad return, 
 And dream of transports she was not to know. 
 She heard the doleful tidings of his death— 
 And never smil'd again ! and now she roams 
 The dreary waste ; there spends the livelong day, 
 JVnd there, unless when charity forbids, 
 
 ^The livelong night. A tatter'd apron hides, 
 Worn as a cloak, and hardly hides, a gown 
 More tatter'd still; and both but ill conceal 
 A bosom heav'd with never-ceasing sighs. 
 She begs an idle pin of all she meets, 
 And hoards them in her sleeve ; but needful food, 
 Though press'd with hunger oft, or comelier clothes. 
 Though pinch'd with cold, asks never— Kate is eraz'd, 
 
 I see a column of slow rising smoke 
 O'ertop the lofty wood, that skirts the wild. 
 A vagabond and useless tribe there eat 
 Their miserable meal. A kettle, slung 
 Between tvPb poles upon a stick transverse, 
 Receives the morsel— Mesh obscene of dog, 
 Or virmin, or at best of cock purloin'd 
 From his accustomed perch. Hard faring race ! 
 They pick their fuel out of ev'ry hedge, 
 Which, kindled with dry leaves, just saves unquench* 
 The spark of life. The fpo tive wind blows w ids 
 Their.flutt'ring rags, and shows a tawny skin, 
 The vellum of the pedigree they claim. 
 Great skill have they in palmistry, and more 
 To conjure clean away the gold th-y touch, 
 Conveying worthless dross into its place ; 
 Loud when they beg, dumb only when they steak 
 Strange ! that a creature rational, and cast 
 In human mould, should brutalize by choice 
 His nature ; and, though capable of arts, 
 By which the world might profit, and himself 
 Self-banish 'd from society, prefer 
 
 ajpch squalid sloth to honourable toil ! 
 
24 THE TASK. 
 
 Yet even these, though feigning sickness oft, 
 
 Th y swathe the forehead, drag the limping limb. 
 
 And vex their Hesh with artificial sores, 
 
 Can change their whine into a mirthful note, 
 
 When safe occasion offers ; and with dance, 
 
 Arr musjc of the bladder and the hag, 
 
 Ei guile their woes, and make the woods resound. 
 
 Such health and gayety of heart enjoy 
 
 Th houseless rovers of the sylvan world ; 
 
 And, breathing wholesome air. and wand'ring much 
 
 Need other physic none to heal th' effects 
 
 Of loathsome diet, penury, and cold. 
 
 Blest he, though undistinguished from the crowd 
 B\ wealth or dignity, who dwells secure, 
 "Where man by nature fierce, has laid aside 
 His fierceness, having learnt, though slow to learn, 
 The maimers and the arts of civil life. 
 His wants indeed are many ; but supply 
 Is obvious, plac'd within the easy reach 
 Of temp'rate wishes and industrious hands. 
 Here virtue thrives as in her proper soil ; 
 Not rude and surly, and beset with thorns, 
 And terrible to sight, as when she springs, 
 (If e'er she spring spontaneous.) in remote 
 And barb'rous climes, where violence prevails, 
 And strength is lord of all; but gentle, kind, 
 By culture tam'd, by lib- rty refresh'd, 
 And all her fruits by railicnt truth matur'd. 
 Wa and the chase engross the savage whole; 
 War follow'd for revenge, or to supplant 
 The envied tenants of some happier spot: 
 The chase for sustenance, precarious trust! 
 His hard condition with severe constraint 
 Binds all his faculties, forbids all growth 
 Of wisdom, proves a school, in which he learns 
 Sly circumvention, unrelenting hate, 
 Mean self-attachment, and scarce aught beside. 
 Thus fare the sluVring natives of the north, 
 And thus the rang* is of the western world. 
 Where it advances far intothe deep, 
 
THE SOFA. 25 
 
 Tow'rds the antarctic. E'en thefavour'd isles 
 So lately found, although the constant sun 
 Cheer all their seasons with a grateful smile, 
 Can boast but little virtue ; and inert 
 Through plenty, lose in morals what they gain 
 In manners— victims of luxurious ease. 
 These therefore I can pity, plac'd remote 
 From all that science traces, art invents, 
 Or inspiration teaches ; and enclos'd 
 
 I In boundless oceans never to be pass'd 
 By navigators uninform'd as they, 
 Or plough 'd perhaps by British bark again : 
 But far beyond the rest, and with most cause, 
 Thee, gentle savage!* whom no love of thee 
 Or thine, but curiosity perhaps, 
 Or else vainglory, prompted us to draw 
 Forth from thy native bow'rs, to show thee here 
 With what superior skill we can abuse 
 The gifts of Providence, and squander life. 
 The dream is past ; and thou hast found again 
 Thy cocoas and bananas, palms and jams, 
 And homestall thatch'd with leaves. But hast thou 
 
 found 
 Their former charms ? And, having seen our state 
 Our palaces, our ladies, and our pomp 
 Of equipage, our gardens, and our sports, 
 And heard our music ; are thy simple friends, 
 Thy simple fare, and all thy plain delights, 
 As dear to thee as once ! And have thy joys 
 Lost nothing by comparison with ours ? 
 Rude as thou ait, (for we return 'd thee rude 
 And ignorant, except of outward show,) 
 I cannot think thee yet so dull of heart 
 And spiritless, as never to regret 
 Sweets tasted here, and left as soon as known. 
 
 ; Methinks I see thee straying on the beach, 
 And asking of the surge, that bathes thy foot 
 If ever it has wash'd our distant shore. 
 
 * Omai. 
 VOL. II B * 
 
26 THE TASK. 
 
 I see thee weep, and thine are honest tears, 
 A patriot's for his country : thou art sad 
 At thought of her forlorn and abject state, 
 From which no pow'r of thine can raise her up. 
 Thus "Fancy paints thee, and though apt to err, 
 Perhaps errs little, when she paints thee thus. 
 Sli tells me too, that di;ly ev'ry morn 
 Tl 'i elimb'st the mountain top, with eager eye 
 Exploring far and wide the wat'ry waste 
 For sight ■•' ship from England. Ev'ry speck 
 Se< n in the dim horizon turns thee pale 
 With conflict of contending hopes and fears,, 
 But comes at last the dull and dusky eve, 
 And sends thee to thy cabin, wtll-prtpar'd, 
 To dream all night of what the day denied. 
 Alas ! exp ct it not. We found no bait 
 To tempt us in thy country. Doing good, 
 Disinterested good, is not our trade. 
 We travel far, 'tis true, but not for naught ; 
 And must be brib'd to compass Earth again 
 B> ither hopt s and richer fruit than yours. 
 
 Bin though true worth and virtue in the mild, 
 Ai'd genial sol of cultivated life 
 Thrive most, and may perhaps thrive only there s 
 Yet not in citiis oft : in proud, and gay, 
 A r.d gain-. I e voted cities. Thither flow, 
 As to a common and most noisome sewer, 
 The dri gs and feculence of ev'ry land. 
 In cm s foul example on most minds 
 Beg* ts its likeness. Rank abundance breeds, 
 In gross and painper'd cit-es, sloth, and lust, 
 And wantonness, and gluttonous excess, 
 In cities vice is hidden with most ease, 
 Or seen with least reproach.; and virtue, taught 
 By frequent lapse, can hope no triumph there 
 Beyond fh' achievement of successful Might. 
 I do coir ess them nurs'ries of the arts, 
 In which they flourish most ; where in the beam* 
 Of warm encouragement, ard in the eye 
 Of publie note, they reach their perfect size. 
 
THE SOFA. 
 
 Such London is, by taste anil wealth proclaim'd 
 
 lite fairest capital of all the world, 
 
 By riot and incontinence the worst. 
 
 There touch'd by Reynolds, a dull blank becomes 
 
 A lucid mirror, in which Nature sees 
 
 All her reflected features. Bacon there 
 
 Gives more than female beauty to a stone, 
 
 And Chatham's eloquence to marble lips. 
 
 Nor does the chisel occupy alone 
 
 The pow'rs of sculpture, but the style as much 
 
 Each province of her art her equal care. 
 
 With nice incision of her guided steel 
 
 She ploughs a brazen field, and clothes a soil 
 
 So sterile with what charms soe'er she will, 
 
 The richest scenery and the loveliest forms. 
 
 Wh< re 6nds Philosophy her eagle eye. 
 
 With which she gazes at yon burning disk 
 
 Undazzled, and detects and counts his spots? 
 
 In London. Where her implements exact, 
 
 With which she calculates, computes and scans, 
 
 All distance, motion, magnitude, and now 
 
 Measures an atom, and now girds a world ? 
 
 In London. Where has commerce such a mart, 
 
 So rich, so throng'd, so drain'd, and so supplied,. 
 
 As Loudon— opulent, enlarged, andstill 
 
 Increasing London? Babylon of old 
 
 Not more the glory of the Earth, than she, 
 
 A more accomplish'd world's chief glory now. 
 
 She has her praise. Now mark a spot or two, 
 That so much beauty would do well to purge; 
 And show this queen of cities, that so fair, 
 May yet be foul; so witty, yet not wise. 
 It is not seemly, nor of good report, 
 That she is slaek in discipline; more prompt 
 T' avenge than to prevent the breach of law : 
 That -die is rigid in denouncing death, 
 On petty robbers, and indulges life 
 And liberty, and ofttimes hunour too,. 
 To peculators of the public gold : 
 That thieves at home must hang ; but he, that puts 
 
28 THE TASK. 
 
 Into, his overgorg'd and bloated purse 
 The wealth of Indian provinces, escape*. 
 Nor is it well, nor can it come to good, 
 That through profane and infidel contempt 
 Of holy writ, she has presum'd t' annul 
 And abrogate, as roundly as she may, 
 The total ordinance and will of God ; 
 Advancing Fashion to the post of Truth, 
 And centering all authority in modes 
 And customs of her own, till sabbath rites 
 Have dwindled into uninspected forms, 
 And knees a"d hassocks are well-nigh divorc'd. 
 
 God made the country, and man made the town 
 What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts 
 That can alone make sweet the bitter draught 
 That life holds out to all, should most abound 
 And least be threaten M in tin fields and groves ? 
 Possess ye, therefore, ye who, borne about 
 In chariots and sedans, know no fatigue 
 But that of idleness, and taste no scenes 
 But such as art contrives, possess ye still 
 Their element; there only can ye shine; 
 There only minds like yours can do no harm. 
 Our groves were planted to console at noon 
 The pensive wand'rerin their shades. At eve 
 The moon-beam, sliding in between 
 The sleeping leaves, is all the light they wish, 
 Birds warbling all the music. We can spare 
 The splendour of your lamps ; they but eclipse 
 Our softer satellite. Your songs confound 
 Our more harmonious notes : the thrush departs 
 Scar'd, and th' offended nightingale is mute. 
 There is a public mischief in your mirth ; 
 It plagues your country. Folly such as yours, 
 Grac'd with a sword, and worthier of a fan, 
 Has made, what enemies could ne'er have done. 
 Our arch of empire, steadfast bat for you, 
 A mutilated structure soon to fall. 
 
THE TASK. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND BOOK. 
 
 Letlectious suggested by the conclusion of the former" 
 
 book Peace among the nations recommended on 
 
 the ground of their common fellowship in sorrow..... 
 Prodigies enumerated ....Sicilian eavthquakes....Man 
 
 rendered obnoxious to ihese calamities by sin God 
 
 the agent in them The philosophy that stops at 
 
 secondary causes reproved Our own late miscar- 
 riages accounted for Satirical notice taken of our 
 
 trips to Fontam&Bleau But the pulpit, not satire, 
 
 the proper engine of reformation The Reverend 
 
 Advertiser of engraved sermons Petit-maitre par- 
 
 son The good preacher..... Picture of a theatrical 
 
 clerical coxcomb.... Story-tellers and jesters in the 
 pulpit reproved... .Apostrophe to popular applause.... 
 Retailers of ancient philosophy expostulated with.... 
 
 Sum of the whole matter Effects of sacerdotal 
 
 mismanagement on the laity Their folly and ex- 
 travagance The mischiefs of profusion Profu- 
 sion itself, with all its consequent evils, ascribed, as 
 to its principal cause, to the want of discipline in 
 the universities. 
 
THE TASK, 
 
 BOOK II. 
 
 THE TIME-PIECE. 
 
 O FOR a lodge in some vast wilderness. 
 Some boundless contiguity of shade, 
 Where rumour of oppression and deceit, 
 Of unsuccessful or successful war, 
 Might never reach me more ! My ear is pain'ti. 
 My soul is sick with ev'ry clay's report 
 Of wrong and outrage with which earth is filFii. 
 There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart ; 
 It does not feel for man ; the natural bond 
 Of brotherhood b sever 'd, as the flax, 
 That falls asunder at the touch of fire. 
 He finds his fellow guilty of a skin 
 Not colour'd like his own ; and having powY 
 T' enforce the wrong, for such a worthy cause 
 Dooms and devotes him as his lawful prey. 
 Lands intersected by a narrow frith 
 Abhor each other. Mountains interpos'd 
 Make enemies of nations, who had else 
 Like kindred drops been mingled into one. 
 Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys ; 
 And worse than all, and most to be deplor'd, 
 As human nature's broadest, foulest blot, 
 Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat 
 "With stripes, that mercy with a bleeding heart. 
 Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast. 
 Then what is man? And what man, seeing this, 
 And having human feelings, does not blush. 
 And hang his head, to think himself a man . 
 
32 THE TASK. 
 
 I would not have a slave to till my ground, 
 
 To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, 
 
 And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth 
 
 That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd. 
 
 No : dear as freedom is, and in my heart's 
 
 Just estimation priz'd tbove all price, 
 
 I had much rather be myself the slave, 
 
 And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. 
 
 We have no slaves at home.— Then why abroad : 
 
 And they themselves, once ferried o'er the wave 
 
 That parts us, are emancipate and loos'd. ■ 
 
 Slaves cannot breathe in England; if their lungs 
 
 Receive our air, that moment they are free: 
 
 They touch our country, and *heir shackles fall. 
 
 That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud 
 
 And jealous of the blessing. Spread it, then, 
 
 And let it circulate through ev'ry vein 
 
 Of all your empire ; that where Britain's pow'r 
 
 Js felt, mankind may feel her mercy too. 
 
 Sure there is need of social intercourse, 
 Benevolence, and peace, and mutual aid, 
 Between the nations, in a world that seems 
 To toll the death-bell of its own decease, 
 And by the voice of all its elements 
 To preach the gen'ral doom.* When were the wind* 
 Let slip with such a warrant to destroy? 
 When did the waves so haughtily o'ei leap 
 Theirancient barriers, deluging the dry ? 
 Fires from beneath and meteorst from above, 
 Portentous, unexampled, unexplained. 
 Have kindled beacons in the skies; and th'old 
 And crazy Earth has had her shaking fits 
 More frequent, and foregone her usual rest. 
 Is it a time to wrangle, when the props 
 And pillars of our planet seem to fail, 
 And Nature! with a dim and sickly eye 
 
 * Alluding to the calamities in Jamaica. 
 
 t August 18, 1783. 
 
 f Alluding to thefoz. that covered both Europe and Asia 
 
 timing the whole mmmer of 1783. 
 
THE TIME-PIECE. ft 
 
 Jo wait the close of all? But gi;ant her end 
 More distant, and that prophecy demands 
 A longer respite unaccomplish'd yet ; 
 Still they are frowning signals, and bespeak 
 Displeasure in his breast who smites the Earth 
 Or heals it, makes it languish or rejoice. 
 And 'tis but seemly, that, where all deserve 
 And stand expos'd by common peccancy 
 To what no few have felt, there should be peace, 
 And brethren in calamity should love. 
 
 Alas f.r Sicily ! rude fragments now 
 Lie scatter'd, where the shapely column stood. 
 Her palaces are dust. In all her streets 
 The voice of singing and the sprightly chord 
 Are silent. Revelry, and dance, and show, 
 Suffer a syncope and solemn pause ; 
 While God performs upon the trembling stage 
 Of his own works his dreadful part alone. 
 Hew does the earth receive him I — with what signs 
 Of gratuJation and delight her king ? 
 Pours die not forth her choicest fruits abroad, 
 Her sweetest flow'rs, her aromatic gums, 
 Disclosing Paradise where'er he treads ? 
 She quakes at his approach. Her hollow womb, 
 Conceiving thunders, through a thousand deeps 
 And fiery caverns roars beneath his foot. 
 The hills move lightly and the mountains smoke, 
 For he has toueh'd them. Fromth' extremest point 
 Of elevation down into the abjss 
 His wrath is busy, and his frown is felt. 
 The rocks fall headlong, and the valleys rise, 
 The rivers die into offensive pools, 
 Aiid, charg'd with putrid verdure, breathe a gross 
 And mortal nuisance into all the air. 
 What soli! was, by transformation strange, 
 Grows fluid ; and the hVd aid rooted earth, 
 Tonnenti d into billows, heaves and swells, 
 Or with vertiginous and hideous whirl 
 Siuks 'own its prey insatiable. Immense. 
 The tumult and the overthrow, the pangs 
 B 2 
 
o4 THE TASK. 
 
 And agonies of human-and of brute 
 Multitudes, fugitive on ev'ry side, 
 And fugitive in vain. The sylvan scent 
 Migrates uplifted; and, with all its soil 
 Alighting in far distant fields, finds out 
 A new possessor, and survives the change. 
 Ocean has caught the frenzy, and, upwrouglit 
 To an enormous and o'erbearing height, 
 Not by a mighty wind, but by that voice 
 Which winds and waves obey, invades the shore 
 Resistless. Never such a sudden flood, 
 Upridg'd so high, and sent on such a charge. 
 Possess'*! an inland scene. Where now the throng 
 That press'd the beach, and, hasty to depart, 
 Look'd to the sea for safety ? They are gone, 
 Gone with the refluent wave into the deep— 
 A prince with half his people ! Ancient tow'rs, 
 And roofs embattled high, the gloomy scenes 
 Where beauty oft and letter 'd worth consume 
 Life in the unproductive shades of death, 
 Fall prone: the pale inhabitants come forth, 
 And, happy in their unforeseen release 
 From all the rigours of restraint, enjoy 
 The terrors of the day that sets them free. 
 Who then that has thee, would not hold thee fast. 
 Freedom ! whom they that lose thee so regret, 
 That e'en a judgment, making way for thee, 
 Seems in their eyes a mercy for thy sake ? 
 
 Such evil Sin hath wrought; and such a flame 
 Kindled in Heav'n, that it burns down to Earth, 
 And in the furious inquest that it makes 
 On God's behalf, lays waste his fairest works. 
 The very elements, though each be meant 
 The minister of man, to serve his wants. 
 Conspire against him. With his breath he draws 
 A plague into his blood ; and cannot use 
 Life's necessary means, but he must die. 
 Storms rise t' o'erwhelm him ; or if stormy winds 
 Rise not, the waters of the deep shall rise, 
 And, needing none assistance of the storm, 
 
THE TIME-PIECE. 35 
 
 Shall roll themselves ashore, and reach him there. 
 Fiie earth shall shake him out of all his holds, 
 Or make his house his grave : nor so content, 
 Shall counb rfeit the motions of the flood, 
 And drown him in her dry and dusty gulfs. 
 What then !— were they the wicked above all, 
 And we the righteous, whose fast-a.ichor'd isle 
 Mov'd not, while theirs was rock'd. like a light skiff , 
 The sport of every wave? No: none are clear, 
 And none than we more guilty. But, where all 
 Stand chargeable with guilt, and to the shafts 
 Of wrath obnoxious, God may choose his mark : 
 May punish, if he please, the less, to warn 
 The more malignant. If he spar'd not them, 
 Tremble and be amaz'd at thine escape. 
 Far guiltier England, lest he spare not thee! 
 
 Happy the man, who sees a God employ'd 
 In all the good and ill that checker life! 
 Resolving all events, with their effects 
 And manifold results, into the will 
 And arbitration wise of the Suprt me. 
 Did not his eye rule all things, and intend 
 The least of our concerns; (since from the least 
 The greatest oft originate;) could chance 
 Find place in his dominion, or dispose 
 One lawless particle to thwart his plan ; 
 Then God might be surpris'd, and unforeseen 
 Contingence might alarm him, and disturb 
 The smooth and espial course of his affairs. 
 This truth Philosophy, though eagle-ey'd 
 In nature's tendencies, oft overlooks; 
 And, having found his instrument, forgets, 
 Or disregards, or, more presumptuous still, 
 D'.nks the power that wields it. God proclaim-- 
 His hot displeasure against foolish men, 
 That live an atheist life : involves the Heavhu 
 In tempests ; quits his grasp upon the winds, 
 And gives them a'l their fury; bids a plague 
 Kindle a fiery bile upon the skin. 
 And putrefy the breath of blooming Health 
 
3<5 THE TASK. 
 
 He calls for Famine, and the meagre fiend 
 
 Blows mildew from between his shrivel'd lips, 
 
 And taints the golden ear. He springs his mines, 
 
 And desolates a nation at a blast. 
 
 Forth steps the spruce Philosopher, and tells 
 
 Of homogeneal and discordant springs 
 
 And principles; of causes how they work 
 
 By necessary laws their sure effects 
 
 Of action and reaction : he has found 
 
 TIk source of the disease that Eature feels, 
 
 And bids the world take heart and banish fear. 
 
 Thou fool! will thy discov'ry of the cause 
 
 Suspend th' effe« , or heal it ? Has not God 
 
 Still wrought bj means since first he made the world 
 
 And did he not of old employ his means 
 
 To drown it ? What is his creation, less 
 
 Than a c -.pacious reservoir of means, 
 
 Form'd for his use, and ready at his will ? 
 
 Go, dress thine eyes with eyesalve ; ask of Him, 
 
 Or ask of whomsoever he has taught ; 
 
 And learn, though hue. the genuine cause of all. 
 
 England, with all thy faults, Hove thee still— 
 My country ! and, while yet a nook is left, 
 Wi-.e:-. fl-niish minds and manners may be found. 
 Shall \y constraint to iovethee. Though thy clime 
 Be fickle, and thj year most part de form'd 
 With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost, 
 I would not yet exchange thj sullen skies, 
 And fields without a flov.'r, for warmej- France 
 With all her vines : r.or for Ausonia's groves 
 Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bow'rs. 
 To shake iln senate, and from her heights sublime 
 Of patriot eloquence to flash down fire 
 Upc n thy foes, was never meant my task : 
 But I enn feel thy fortunes, and partake 
 Th} joys and sorrows } with as true a heart 
 As any thundVer there. And I can feel 
 Thy follies too ; and with a just disdain 
 Frown at effeminates, whose very looks 
 
THE TIME-PIECE. 3V 
 
 Reflect dishonour on the land I love. 
 
 How in the name of soldiership and sense, 
 
 Should England prosper, when such things, as smooth 
 
 And tender as a girl, r.M esseoc'd o'er 
 
 With odours, and as profligate as sweet ; 
 
 Who si 11 their laurel for a myrtle wreath, 
 
 Ami love when they should fight : when such as these 
 
 Presume to lay their hand upon the ark 
 
 [ Of her magnificent and awful cause ? 
 Time was when it was praise and boast enough 
 In ev'ry clime, and travel where we might, 
 That we were horn her children. Praise enough 
 To til! th' ambition of a private man 
 That Chatham's language was his mother-tongue, 
 And Wolfe's great name compatriot with .his own. 
 
 I Farewell those honours, and farewell with them 
 The hope of such hereafter! They have fall'n 
 
 j Each in his field of glory; one in arms, 
 
 i And one in council— Wolfe upon the lap 
 Of smiling Victory that moment won, 
 And Chatham heart-sick of his country's shame ! 
 They male us many soldiers. Chatham, still 
 Consulting England's happiness at home, 
 Secur'd it by an unforgiving frown, 
 If any wrong'd her. Wolfe, where'er he fought, 
 Put so much of his heart into his act, 
 That his example had a magnet's force, 
 And all were swift to follow whom all lov'd. 
 Those suns are set. O rise some other such ! 
 Or all that we have left is empty talk 
 Of old achievements and despair of new. 
 
 Now hoist the sail, and let the streamers float 
 Upon the wanton breezes. Strew the deck 
 With lavender, and sprinkle liquid sweets. 
 That no rude savour maritime invade 
 The nose of nice nobility I Breathe soft, 
 Ye clarionets; and softer still, ye flutes ; 
 That winds and waters, lull'd by magic sounds, 
 May bear us smoothly to the Gallic shore ! 
 
38 THE TASK. 
 
 True, we have lost an empire— let it pass. 
 True, we may thank the perfidy of France, 
 That pick'd the jewel out of England's crown 
 With all the cunning of an envious shrew. 
 And let that pass— 'twas but a trick of state ! 
 A brave man knows no malice, but at once 
 Forgets in peace the injuries of Mar, 
 And gives his direst foe a frieh<rs embrace. 
 And, sham'd as we have been, to th' very beard 
 Brav'd and defied, and in our own sea prov'd 
 Too weak for those decisive blows that once 
 Ensur'd us mast'ry there, we yet retain 
 Some small pre-eminence ; we justly boast 
 At least superior jockeyship, and claim 
 The honours of the turf as all our own .' 
 Go, then, well worthy of the praise ye seek, 
 And show thr shame ye might conceal at home. 
 In foreign eyes!— be grooms and win the plate, 
 Where once your nobler lathers won a crown !~ 
 'Tis gen'rous to communicate your skill 
 To those that need it. Folly is soo,. leam'd : 
 And under such preceptors who can fail ! 
 
 There is a pleasure in poetic pains, 
 Which only potts know. The shifts and turns 
 Th' expedients and inventions multiform, 
 To which the mind resorts, in chase of terms, 
 Though apt, yet coy, and difficult fo win— 
 T' arrest the fleeting images, that fill 
 The mirror of the mind, and hold them fast. 
 And force them sit, till he has pencil 'd off 
 A faithful likeness of the forms he views; 
 Then to dispose his copies with such art, 
 That each may find its most propitious light, 
 And shine by situation, hardly less 
 Than by the labour and the skill it cost; 
 Are occupations of the poet's mind 
 So pleasing, aad that steal away the thought, 
 With such address from themes of sad import, 
 That, lost in his own musings, happy man ! 
 
THE TIME-PIECE. 
 
 He feels the anxieties of life denied 
 
 Their wonted entertainment ; all retire. 
 
 Such joys has he that sings. But ah ! not such, 
 
 Or seldom such, the hearers of his song. 
 
 Fastidious, or else listless, or perhaps 
 
 Aware of nothing arduous in a task 
 
 They never undertook, they little note 
 
 His dangers or escapes, and haply find 
 
 Their least amusement where lie found the meat. 
 
 But is amusement all ? Studious of song, 
 
 And yet ambitious not to sing in vain, 
 
 I would not triHe merely, though the world 
 
 Be loudest in their praise who do no more. 
 
 Yet what can satire, whether grave or gay ? 
 
 It may correct a foible, may chastise 
 
 The freaks of fashion, regulate the dress, 
 
 Retrench a sword-blade, or displace a patch ; 
 
 But where are its sublimer trophies found? 
 
 What vice has it subdued? whose heart reclaim'd 
 
 By rigour, or whom laugh 'd into reform? 
 
 Alas l Leviathan is not so tam'd: 
 
 Laugh 'd at, he laughs again ; and stricken hard? 
 
 Turns to the stroke his adamantine scales, 
 
 That fear no discipline of human hands. 
 
 The pulpit, therefore— (and I name it fill'd 
 With solemn awe, that bids me w. 1! beware 
 With whatiintent I touch that holy thing)— 
 The pulpit— (when the sat'rist has at last, 
 Strutting and vap'ring in an empty school, 
 Spent all his force, and made no proselyte)— 
 I say the pulpit (in the sober use 
 Of its legitimate peculiar pow'rs) 
 Must stand acknowledg'd, while the world shall stand- 
 The most important and effectual guard, 
 Support, and ornament, of Virtue's cause. 
 There stands the messenger of truth ; there stands 
 The legate of the skies !— His theme divine, 
 His office sacred, his credentials clear. 
 By him the violated law speaks out 
 
,0 THE TASK. 
 
 Its thunders; and by him, in strains as sweet 
 As angels use, the Gosptl whispers peace. 
 Me 'stablishes the strong, restores the weak, 
 Reclaims the wand'rer, binds the broken heart, 
 And, arm'd himself in panoply complete 
 Of heav'nly temper, furnishes with arms 
 Bright as his own, and trains, by every rule 
 Of holy discipline, to glorious war 
 The sacramental host of God's elect! 
 Are all such teachers .'—would to Heav'n all were ! 
 But hark— the doctor's voice .'—fast wedg'd between 
 Two empirics he stands, and with swain cheeks 
 Inspires the news, his trumpet. Keener far 
 Thais all invective is his bold harangue, 
 While through that public organ of report 
 He hails the clergy ; and, defying shame, 
 Announces to the world his own and theirs ! 
 He teaches those to read whom schools dismissal, 
 And colleges, untaught; sells accent, tone, 
 Anel emphasis in score and gives to pray'r 
 Th' adagio and andante it demands. 
 He grinds divinity of other days 
 Down into modern use ; transforms old print 
 To zigzag manuscript, and cheats the eyes 
 Of grtll'ry critics by a thousand arts. 
 Are there who purchase or the doctor's ware? 
 O, name it not in Gath !— it cannot be, 
 That grave and learned clerks should net-d such aid, 
 He doubtless is in sport, and does but droll, 
 Assuming thus a rank unknown before- 
 Grand caterer and dry-nurse of the church .' 
 
 I venerate the man, whose heart is warm, 
 Whose hands are pur' , whose doctrine and whose life, 
 Coincide ot, exhibit lucid proof 
 Thi'.t he is heii st in the sacred cause. 
 To ?i,e-i> I render ran re than mere respect, 
 Whos actions say lhat they respect tlv mselves, 
 But loose in morals and in manners vain, 
 la conversation frivolous, in dress 
 
THE TIME-PIECE. 
 
 Extreme, at once rapacious and profuse; 
 
 Frequent in park with lady at his side, 
 
 Ambling and prattling scandal as he goes ; 
 
 But rare at home, and never at his books, 
 
 Or with his pen, save when he scrawls a card ; 
 
 Constant at routs, familiar with a round 
 
 Of ladyships, a stranger to the poor ; 
 
 Ambitious of preferment for its gold, 
 
 And well prepar'd, by ignorance and sloth, 
 
 By infidelity and love of world, 
 
 To make God's work a sinecure ; a slave 
 
 To his own pleasures and his patron's pride; 
 
 From such apostles, O ye mitred heads, 
 
 Preserve the church ! and lay not careless hands 
 
 On skulls that cannot teach, and will not learn. 
 
 Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul, 
 Were he on Earth, would hear, approve, and own, 
 Paul should himself direct me. I would trace 
 His master-strokes, and draw from his design. 
 I would express him simple, grave, sincere ; 
 In doctrine uncorrupt ; in language plain, 
 And plain in manner ; decent, solemn, chaste, 
 And natural in gesture; much impress'd 
 Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, 
 And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds 
 May feel it too; affectionate in look, 
 And tender in address, as well becomes 
 A messenger of grace to guilty men. 
 Behold the picture .'—Is it like I— Like whom ? 
 The things that mount the rostrum with a skip, 
 And then skip down again ; pronounce a text ; 
 Cry— hem ; and, reading what they never wrote 
 Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work, 
 And with a well-bred whisper close the scene ! 
 
 In man or woman, but far most in man, 
 And most of all in man that ministers 
 And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe 
 All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn ; 
 
42 THE TASK. 
 
 Object of my implacable disgust. 
 What!— will a man play tricks— will he indulge 
 A silly fond conceit of his fair form, 
 And just proportion, fashionable mien, 
 And petty face, in presence of his God ? 
 Or will he seek to dazzle me with tropes, 
 As with the diamond on his lily hand, 
 And play his brilliant parts before my ey\ ?. 
 When I am hungry for the bread of life.? 
 He mocks his Maker, prostitutes and shame* 
 His noble office, and, instead of truth, 
 Displaying his own beauty, starves his flock. 
 Therefore avaunt all attitude, and stare, 
 And start theatric, practis'd at the glass I 
 I seek divine simplicity in him 
 Who handles things divine ; and all besides, 
 Though learn 'd with labour, and though much admi 
 By curious eyes and judgments ill-inform 'd, 
 To me is odious as the nasal twang 
 Heard at conventicle where worthy men, 
 Misled by custom, strain celestial themes 
 Through the press'd nostril, spectaclcbestrid. 
 Some, decent in demeanour while they preach- 
 That task perform'd, relapse into themselves ; 
 And, having spoken wisely, at the close 
 Grow wanton, and give proof to ev'ry eye, 
 Whoe'er was edified, themselves were not ! 
 Forth comes the pocket-mirror. First we stroke 
 An eyebrow ; next compose a straggling lock ; 
 Then with an air most gracefully perform'd, 
 Fall back into our seat, extend an arm, 
 And lay it at its ease with gentle cave, 
 With handkerchief in hand depending low : 
 The better hand more busy gives the nose 
 Its bergamot, or aids th' indebted eye 
 With op'ra glass, to watch the moving scene, 
 And recognise the slow retiring fair. — 
 Now this is fulsome ; and offends me more 
 Than in a churchman slovenly neglect 
 And rustic coarseness would. A heavenly mind 
 
THE TIME-PIECE. 
 
 May be indiff 'rent to her house of clay, 
 And slight the hovel as beneath her care ; 
 But how a body so fantastic, trim, 
 And quaint, in its deportment and attire, 
 Can lodge a heav'nly mind— demands a doubto 
 
 He that negotiates between God and man. 
 As God's ambassador, the grand concerns 
 Of judgment and of mercy, should beware 
 Of lightness in his speech. 'Tis pitiful 
 To court a grin, when you should woo a soul 
 To break a jest, when pity would inspire 
 Pathetic exhortation ; and t' addi t ss 
 Th. skittish fancy with facetious tales, 
 When sent with God's commission to the heart ! 
 So did not Paul. Direct me to a quip 
 Or merry turn in all he ever wrote, 
 And I consent you take it for your text, 
 You only one, till sides and benches fail. 
 No : be was serious in a serious cause, 
 And understood too well the weighty terms, 
 That he had ta'en in charge. He would not stoor 
 To conquer those by jocular exploits, 
 "Whom truth and soberness assail'd in vain. 
 
 O Popular Applause ! what heart of man 
 Is proof against thy sweet seducing charms 
 The wisest and the best feel urgent need 
 Of all their caution in thy gentk-st gales; 
 But s-.vell'd into a gust— who. then, alas ! 
 With all his canvass set, and inexpert, 
 And therefore heedless can withstand their pow'r 
 Praise from the rivell'd lips of toothless, bald 
 Decrepitude, and in the looks of lean 
 And craving Poverty, and in the bow 
 R> spectftilof the smutch'd artificer, 
 Is oft too welcome and may much disturb 
 The bias of the purpose. How much more, 
 Pour'd forth by beauty splendid and polite, 
 In language soft as Adoration breathes ? ■ 
 
44 THE TASK. 
 
 Ah, spare your idol, think him human still, 
 Charms he may have, but he has frailties too ! 
 Dote not too much, nor spoil what ye admire. 
 
 All truth is from the sempiternal source 
 Of light divine. But Egypt, Greece, and Rome, 
 Drew from the stream below. More favour'd, we 
 Drink when we choose it, at the fountain head. 
 To them it flow'd much mingled and defil'd 
 With hurtful error, prejudice, and dreams 
 Illusive of philosophy, so call'd, 
 But falsely. Sages after sages strove 
 In vain to filter off a crystal draught 
 Pure from the lees which often more enhanc'd 
 1'he thirst than slak'd it, and not seldom bred 
 Intoxication and delirium wild. 
 In vain they push'd inquiry to the birth 
 And spring-time of the world; ask'd, Whence is man'? 
 Why fonn'd at all ? and wherefore as he is ? 
 Where must he find his maker ? with what rites 
 Adore him? Will he hear, accept, and bless? 
 Or does he sit regardless of his works ? 
 Has man within him an immortal seed ? 
 Or does the tomb take all ? If he survive 
 His ashes, where ? and in what weal or wo? 
 Knots worthy of solution, which alone 
 A Deity could solve. Their answers, vague 
 And all at random, fabulous and dark. 
 Left them as dark themselves. Their rules of life 
 Defective and unsanetion'd, prov'd too weak 
 To bind the roving appetite, and lead 
 Blind nature to a God not yet reveal 'd. 
 ! Tis Revelation satisfies all donbts, 
 Explains all mysteries, except her own, 
 And so illuminates the path of life 
 That fools discover it, and stray no more. 
 Now tell me, dignified and sapient sir, 
 My man of morals, nurtur'din the shades 
 Of Acadtmus— is this false or true? 
 Is Christ the abler teacher, or the schooh ; 
 
THE TIME-PIECE. 
 
 If Christ, then why resort at ev'ry turn 
 
 To Athens or to Rome, for wisdom short 
 
 Of maif s occasions, when in him reside 
 
 Grace, knowledge, comfort— an unfathom'd store? 
 
 How oft, when Paul has serv'd us with a text, 
 
 Has Epictetus, Plato, Tully, preach'd ! 
 
 Men that, if now alive, would sit content 
 
 And humble learners of a Saviour's worth, 
 
 Preach it who might. Such was their love of truth. 
 
 Their thirst of knowledge, and their candour too. 
 
 And thus it is.— The pastor either vain 
 By nature, or by flatt'ry made so, taught 
 To gaze at his own splendour, and t' exalt 
 Absurdly, not his office, but himself; 
 Or unenlighten'd, and too proud to learn ; 
 Or vitious, and not therefore apt to teach ; 
 Perverting often by the stress of lewd 
 And loose example, whom he should instruct ; 
 Exposes, and holds up to broad disgrace, 
 The noblest function, and discredits much 
 The brightest truths that man has ever seen. 
 For ghostly counsel ; if it either fall 
 Below the exigence, or be not back'd 
 With show of love, at least with hopeful proof 
 Of some sincerity on the giver's part ; 
 Or bedishonour'd in th' exterior form 
 And mode of its conveyance, by such tricks 
 As move derision, or by foppish airs 
 And histrionic mumm'ry, that let down 
 The pulpit to the level of the stage; 
 Drops from the lips a disregarded thing. 
 The weak perhaps are mov'd, but are not taught. 
 While prejudice in men of stronger minds 
 Takes deeper root, eonfirra'd by what they see. 
 A relaxation of religion's hold 
 Upon the roving and untutor'd heart 
 Soon follows, and, the curb of conscience snapp'd. 
 The laity run wild. But do they now ? 
 Mote their extravagance, and be convinc'd. 
 
40 | THE TASK. 
 
 As nations, ignorant of God, contrive. 
 A wooden one ; so we, no longer taught 
 By monitors, that mother church supplies, 
 Now make our own. Posterity will ask, 
 (If e'er posterity see verse of mine,) 
 Some fifty or a hundred lustrums hence s 
 What was a monitor in George's days ? 
 My very gentle reader, yet unborn, 
 Of whom I needs must augur better things, 
 Since Heav'n would sure grow weary of a world 
 Productive only of a race like ours, 
 A monitor is wood— plank shaven thin. 
 We wear it at our backs. There, closely brac'd 
 And neatly fitted, it compresses hard 
 The prominent and most unsightly bones, 
 And binds the shoulders flat. We prove its use 
 Sov'reign and most effectual to secure 
 A form, not now gymnastic as of yere, 
 From rickets, and distortion, else our lot. 
 But thus admonish 'd, we can walk erect — 
 One proof at least of manhood I while the friend 
 Sticks close, a Mentor worthy of his charge. 
 Our habits, costlier than Lucullus wore, 
 And by caprice as multiplied as his, 
 Just please us while the fashion is at full, 
 But change with ev'ry moon. The sycophant, 
 Who waits to dress us, arbitrates their date ; 
 Surveys his fair reversion with keen eye; 
 Finds one ill made, another obsolete, 
 This fits not nicely, that is '11 eonceiv'd ; 
 And. making prize of all that he condemns, 
 With our expenditure defrays his own. 
 Variety's the very spice of lift*, 
 That gives it all its flavour. We have run 
 Throne;h ev'ry change, that Fancy at the loom 
 Exhausted, has had genius to supply ; 
 And studious of mutation ,stin, discard 
 A real elegance, a little us'd, 
 For monstrous novelty and strange disguise 
 We sacrifice to dress, till household joys 
 
 
ITffi TIME-PIECE. At 
 
 And comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry, 
 
 And keeps our larder lean ; puts out our fires ; 
 
 And introduces hunger, frost and wo, 
 
 Where peace and hospitality might reign. 
 
 What man that lives, and that knows how to live, 
 
 Would fail t' exhibit at the public shows 
 
 A form as splendid as the proudest there, 
 
 Though appetite raise outcries at the cost ? 
 
 A man o' th' town dines late, but soon enough, 
 
 With reasonable forecast and despatch, 
 
 T' ensure a side-box station at half price.. 
 
 You think, perhaps, so delicate his dress, 
 
 His daily fare as delicate. Alas ! 
 
 He picks clean teeth, and, busy as he seem 
 
 With an old tavern quill, is hungry yet ! 
 
 The rout is Folly's circle, which she draws 
 
 With magic wand. So potent is the spell, 
 
 That none, decoy 'd into that fatal ring, 
 
 Unless by Heav'n's peculiar grace, escape. 
 
 There we grow early gray, but never wise ; 
 
 There form coniu xipns, but acquire no friend ; 
 
 Solicit pleasure hopeless of success ; 
 
 Waste youth in occupations only fit 
 
 For s< cond childhood, and devote old age 
 
 To sports, which only childhood could excuse*. 
 
 There, they are happiest who dissemble best 
 
 Thiir weariness- and they the most. polite, 
 
 Who squander time and treasure with a smile, 
 
 Though at their own destruction. She that asks 
 
 Her dear five hund- ed friends, contemns them all, 
 
 And hates their coming. They (what can they less?), 
 
 Hake | ust reprisals ; and with cringe and shrug, 
 
 And bow obsequious, hide their hate of her. 
 
 AH catch the frenzy, downward from her grace, 
 
 Whose flambeaux flash against the morning skies, 
 
 And gild our chamber ceilings as they pass, 
 
 To her, who, frugal only that her thrift 
 
 May feed excesses she can ill afford, 
 
 I* hackney'd home unlackey'd ; who, in hast-? 
 
 Alighting, turns the key in "her own door, 
 
48 THE TASK. 
 
 And, at the watchman's lantern borrowing light, 
 
 Finds a cold bed her only comfort left. 
 
 Wives beggar husbands, husbands starve their wive; 
 
 On Fortune's velvet altar ofF'ring up 
 
 Their last poor pittance— Fortune, most severe 
 
 Of goddesses yet known, and costlier far 
 
 Than all that held their routs in Juno's Heav'n.— 
 
 So tare we in this prison-house, the World ; 
 
 And 'tis a fearful spectacle to see 
 
 So many maniacs dancing in their chains. 
 
 They gaze upon the links, that hold them fast, 
 
 With eyes of anguish, execrate their lot, 
 
 Then shake them in despair, and dance again .' 
 
 Now basket up the family of plagues, 
 That ^aste our vitals; peculation, sale 
 Of honour, perjury, corruption, frauds 
 By forgery, bv subterfuge of law, 
 By tricks and lies as num'rousand as keen 
 As the necessities their authors feel : 
 Then cast them, closely bundled, ev'ry brat 
 At the right door. Profusion is the sire. 
 Profusion unrestrain'd, with all that's base 
 In character, haslitter'd all the land, 
 And bred, within the mem'ry of no few, 
 A priesthood, such as Baal's was of old, 
 A people, sueh.as never was till now. 
 [c is a hungry vice :— it eats up all 
 That gives society its beauty, strength, 
 Convenience, atid security, and use: 
 Makes men "mere vermin, worthy to be trapp'd 
 A.nd gibbetted, as fast as catchpoJe claws 
 Can seize the slipp'ry prey : unties the knot 
 Of union, and converts the sacred band 
 That holds mankind together, to a scourge. 
 Profusion, deluging a state with lusts 
 Of grossest nature and of worst effects, 
 Prepares it for its ruin : hardens, blinds, 
 And warps, the consciences of public men, 
 Till they can laugh at Virtue ; mock the fools 
 
THE TIMEPIECE, 4* 
 
 That'tvust thein; and in th' end disclose a face, 
 That would have shock'd Credulity herself, 
 Unmask'd, vouchsafing this their sole excuse- 
 Since all alike are selfish, why not they ? 
 This does Profusion, and th' accursed cause 
 Of such deep mischief has itself a cause. 
 
 In colleges and halls in ancient days, 
 When learning, virtue, piety, and truth, 
 Were precious and inculcated with care, 
 There dwelt a sage calld Discipline. His head, 
 Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er, 
 Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth, 
 But strong for service still, and unimpair'd. 
 His eye was meek and gentle, and a smile 
 Play'd on his lips: and in his speech was heard 
 Paternal sweetness, dignity, and love. 
 The occupation dearest to his heart 
 Was to encourage goodness. He would stroke 
 The head of modest and ingenuous worth, 
 That blush VJ at his own praise ; and press the youtI> 
 Close to his side that pleas'd him. Learning ^rcw, 
 Beneath his care, a thriving vig'rous plant ; 
 The mind was well inform VI, the passions held 
 Subordinate, and diligence was choice, 
 .if e'er itchane'd, as sometimes chance it must, 
 That one among so many overleap'd 
 The limits of control, his gentle eye 
 Grew stern, and darted a severe rebuke : 
 His frown was full of terror, and his voice 
 Shook the delinquent with such fits of awe. 
 As left him not, till penitence had wn 
 Lost favour back again, and do 'd the breach. 
 But Discipline, a faithful servant long, 
 Declin'd at »> ugth i.uo the vale of yr>ars : 
 A paJsy struck J'is aim; his sparkling eye 
 Wasqu^nch'd in rheums of age; hisvuice, unstninr 
 Grew tremulous, and mov'd deii-ion more 
 Than revVence, in perverse rebellions youth- 
 So college* and halls neglected ftuifh 
 VOL.11. C * 
 
50 THE TASK, 
 
 Their good old friend ; and Discipline at length, 
 
 O'erlook'd and unemploy'd, fell sick and died. 
 
 Then Study languish'd, Emulation slept, 
 
 And Virtue fled. The schools became a scene 
 
 Of solemn farce, where Ignorance in stilts, 
 
 His cap well lin'd with logic not his own. 
 
 With parrot tongue pei'^m'd the scholar's par;, 
 
 Proceeding soon a graduated dunce. 
 
 Then compromise had place, and scrutiny 
 
 Became stone blind ; precedence went in track] 
 
 And he was competent whose purse was so. 
 
 A dissolution of ail bonds ensued; 
 
 The curbs invented for the mulish mouth 
 
 Of headstrong youth were broken ; bars and bolts 
 
 Grew rusty by disuse ; and massy gates 
 
 Forgot their office, op'ning with a touch ; 
 
 Till gowns at length are found mere masquerade? 
 
 The tassel'd cap and the spruce band a jest, 
 
 A mock'ry of the world I What need of these 
 
 For gamesters*, jockeys, brothelers impure, 
 
 Spendthrifts, and booted sportsmen, oft'ner seen 
 
 With belted waist and pointers at their heels, 
 
 Than in the bounds of duty ? What was learn'd. 
 
 if aught was learn'd in childhood, is forgot ; 
 
 And such expense, as pinches parents blue, 
 
 And mortifies the lib'ral hand oi'love, 
 
 Is sqander'd in pursuit of idle sports 
 
 And vitious pleasures ; buys the boy a name 
 
 That sits a stigma on his father's house, 
 
 And cleaves through life inseparably close 
 
 To him that wears it. What can after games 
 
 Of riper joys, and commerce with the world, 
 
 The lewd vain world, that must receive him soon. 
 
 Add to such erudition, thus acquir'd, 
 
 Where science and where virtue are profess'd? 
 
 Tht-y may confirm his habits, rivet fast 
 
 His folly, but to spoil him is a task 
 
 That bid;, defiance to th' united pow'rs 
 
 Of fashion, dissipation, taverns, stews. 
 
 N<vw blame we most the nurslings or the nurse? 
 
THE TIMEPIECE. 
 
 The children crook 'd, and twisted, and deform 'd, 
 Through want of carp; or her, whose winking eye 
 And slumb'ring oscitancy mars the brood ? 
 The nurse, no doubt. Regardless of her charge. 
 She needs herself correction ; needs to learn 
 That it is dang'rous sporting with the world, 
 With things so sacred as a nation's trust, 
 The nurture of her youth, her dearest pledge. 
 
 All are not such. I had a brotheronce— 
 Peace to the memory of a man of worth, 
 A man of letters, and of manners too ! 
 Of manners sweet as Virtue always wears, 
 "When gay good-nature dresses her in smiles. 
 He grae'd a college,* in which order yet 
 IV ns sacrtd ; and washonour'd, lov'dand wept, 
 By more than one, themselves conspicuous there. 
 Some minds are tempered happily, and mix'd 
 With such ingredients of good sense, and taste 
 Of what is excellent in man, they thirst 
 With such a zeal to be what they approve, 
 That no restraints can circumscribe them more 
 Than they themselves by choice, for wisdom's sake. 
 Nor can example hurt them : what they see 
 Of vice in others but enhancing more 
 Th<- charms of virtue in their just esteem. 
 If Nuch escape contagion, and emerge 
 Pur. from so foul a pool to shine abroad, 
 And give the world their talents and themselves, 
 Small thanks to those whose negligence or sloth 
 Expos'd their inexperience to the snare, 
 Ami left them to an undirected choice. 
 
 See then the quiver broken ami decay'd, 
 In which are kept our arrows ! Rusting there 
 In wild disorder, and unfit for use, 
 What wonder, if, discharg'd into the world, 
 They shame their shooters with a random High* 
 
 *JBen?tCc>!. Cartridge, 
 
$.2 THE TASK. 
 
 Their points obtuse, and feathers drunk with wine * 
 "Well may the church wage unsuccessful war 
 "With such artill'ry arm'd. Vice parries wide 
 Th' undreaded volley with a sword 01 straw, 
 And stands an impudent and fearless mark. 
 
 Have we not track'd the felon home, and found 
 His birthplace and his dam ? The country mourns; 
 Mourns because ev'ry plague that can infest 
 Society, and that saps and worms the base 
 Of th' edifice that policy has rais'd, 
 Swarms in all quarters : meets the eye, the ear. 
 And suiFocates the breath at ev'ry turn. 
 Profusion breeds them ; and the cause itself 
 Of that calamitous mischief has been found : 
 Found, too, where most offensive, in the skirts 
 Of the rob'd pedagogue I Else let th' arraign 'd 
 Stand up unconscious, and refute the charge. 
 So when the Jewish leader stretch 'd his arm, 
 And wav'dhis rod divine, a race obscene, 
 Spawn'dm the muddy beds of Nile, came forth, 
 Polluting Egypt : gardens, fields, and plains, 
 "Were cover 'd with the pest ; the streets were fillM; 
 The croaking nuisance lurk'd in every nook; 
 Nor palaces, nor even chambers, 'scap'd ; 
 And the land stank— so num'rous was the fry.. 
 
THE TASK. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
ARGUMENT OF THE THIRD BOOK. 
 
 Self-recollection and reproof....Address to domestic 
 happiness....Some account of myself....The vanity 
 of many of their pursuits, who are reputed wise ... 
 Justification of my censures....Divine illumination 
 necessary to the moist expert philosopher....The 
 question, What is truth ? answered by other ques- 
 tior)s....Domestic happiness addressed again... Few 
 lovers of the country., ..My tame hare....Occupa- 
 tions of a retired gentleman in his gavden....Prun- 
 
 ing....Framing Greenhouse Sowing of flower 
 
 seeds....The country preferable to the town even 
 in the \vinter....Reasons why it is deserted at that 
 season. ...Ruinous effects of gaming, and of expen- 
 sive improvement—Book concludes with an apos- 
 trophe to the metropolis. 
 
THE TASK. 
 
 BOOK III, 
 
 THE GARDEN 
 
 AS one, who long in thickets and in brake* 
 
 Entangled, winds now this way and now that 
 
 His devious course uncertain, seeking home ; 
 
 Or, having long in miry ways been foil'd 
 
 And sore discomfited, from slough to slough 
 
 Plunging, and half despairing of escape ; 
 
 If chanre at length he find a greensward smooth 
 
 And faithful to the foot, his spirits rise, 
 
 He cherups brisk his ear-erecting steed, 
 
 And winds his way with pleasure and with ease , 
 
 So I, designing other themes, and call'd 
 
 T' adorn the Sofa with eulogium due, 
 
 To tell its slumbers, and to paint its dreams. 
 
 Have rambled wide. In country, city, seat 
 
 Of academic fame, (howe'er deserv'd,) 
 
 Long held, and scarcely disengag'd at last : 
 
 But now with pleasant pace a cleanlier road 
 
 I mean to tread. I feel myself at large. 
 
 Courageous, and refresh'd for future toil, 
 
 If toil await me, or if dangers new. 
 
 Since pulpits fail, and sounding-boards reflect 
 Most part an empty ineffectual sound, 
 What chance that I, to fame so little known* 
 Nor conversant with men or manners much, 
 Should speak to purpose, or with better hope 
 Crack the satiric thong ? 'Twere wiser far 
 For me, enamour'd of sequester'd scenes, 
 Andcharm'd with rural beauty, to repose 
 "Where chance may throw me, beneath elm or vine 
 
&* THE TASK. 
 
 My languid limbs, when summer sears the plains ] 
 
 Or, when rough winter rages, on the soft 
 
 And sheltered Sofa, wlji!? the nitrous air 
 
 Feeds a blue flame, and makes a cheerful hearth; 
 
 There, undisturb'd by folly, and appriz'd 
 
 How great the danger of disturbing her, 
 
 To muse in silence, or at least confine 
 
 Remarks, that gall so many, to the few 
 
 My :>artners in retreat. Disgust conceal'd 
 
 Is ofttimes proof of wisdom, when the fault 
 
 Is obstinate, and cure beyond our reach. 
 
 Domestic happiness, thou only bliss 
 Of Paradise, that has surviv'd the fall ! 
 Though few now taste thee unimpair'd and pure 
 Or tasting, long enjoy thee ! too infirm, 
 Or too incautious, to preserve thy sweets 
 UnnuVd with drops of bitter, which neglect 
 Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup; 
 Thou art the nurse of Virtue— in thine arms 
 She smiles, appearing, as in truth she is, 
 Heav'n-born, and destin'd to the skies again. 
 Thou art not known where Pleasure is ador'd, 
 That re ling goddess with the zomless waist 
 And waiid'ring eyes, still leaning on the arm 
 Of Novelty, her fickle, frail support ; 
 For thou art meek and constant, hating change, 
 And finding in the calm of ti uth-tried love, 
 Joys that her stormy raptures never yield. 
 Forsaking thee, what shipwreck have we made 
 Of honour, dignity, and fair renown J 
 Till prostitution elbows us aside 
 In all our crowded streets ; and senates seem 
 Conven'd for purposes of empire less 
 Than to release the adult'ress from he. /ond. 
 Th 1 adult'ress ! what a tht-me for angry vessel 
 What provocation to th' indignant heart, 
 Tha 1 feels for injur 'd love! but I disdain 
 Th- •iausious task to paint her as she is, 
 Cruel, abandon 'd, glorying in her shame! 
 No :— »let her pass, and, charioted along 
 
IMS GARDEN. i 
 
 rtilty splendour, shake the public ways; 
 Phe frequency of crimes has wash'd them white, 
 \nd verse of mine shall never brand the wretch, 
 Whom matrons now of character unsmirch'd, 
 And cliaste themselves, are not asham'd to own. 
 Virtue and vice had bound'riesin old time, 
 Not to be pass'd : and she that had renounc'd 
 Her sex's honour, was renounc'd herself 
 By all that priz'd it; not for prud'ry's sake, 
 But dignity's, resentful of the wrong. 
 Twas hard j)er!iaps on here and there a waif. 
 Desirous to return and not receiv'd : 
 But was a wholesome rigour in the main, 
 And taught th' unblemish'd to preserve with care 
 That purity, whose loss was loss of all. 
 Men too were nice in honour in those days, 
 And judg'd offenders well. Then he that sharp \\, 
 And pocketed a prize by fraud obtain'd, 
 Was mark'd and shunn'd as odious. He that sold 
 Mis country, or was slack when she rcquir'd 
 His ev'ry nerve in action and at stretch, 
 Paid with the blood that he had basely spar'd, 
 The price of his default. But now— yes, now 
 "VVe are become so candid and so fair, 
 So lib'ral in construction, and so rich 
 In christian charity, (good natur'd age!) 
 That they are safe : sinners of either sex 
 Transgress what laws they may. Well dress'd, well 
 
 bred, 
 Well equipag'd, is ticket good enough, 
 To pass us readily through ev'ry door. 
 Hypocrisy, detest her as we may, 
 (And no man's hatred ever wrong'd her yet,) 
 Maj claim thi: nerit still -that she admits 
 The worth ofmn&t she mimics, with such care, 
 And thus gives virtue indirect applause; 
 lint she has burnt her mask, not needed here, 
 Where vice has such allowance, that her shift? 
 And specious, semblances have lost their use. 
 C 2 
 
5S THE TASK. 
 
 I was a stricken deer, that left the herd 
 Long since. With many an arrow deep infix'ti 
 My panting side was eharg'd, when I withdrew, 
 To seek a tranquil deatli in distant shades. 
 There was I found by one who had himself 
 Been hurt by th' archers. In his side he bore, 
 And in his hands and feet, the cruel scars. 
 With gentle force soliciting the darts, 
 He drew them forth, and heal'd, and bade me live. 
 Since then, with few associates, in remote 
 And silent woods I wander, far from those 
 My former partners of the peopled scene; 
 With few associates, and not wishing more. 
 Here much I ruminate, as much I may, 
 With other views of men and manners now 
 Than once, and others of a life to come. 
 I see that all are wand'rers, gone astray 
 Each in bis own delusions; they are lost 
 In chase of fancied happiness, s'ill woo'd 
 And never won. Dream after dream ensues; 
 And still they dream that they shall still succeed, 
 And still are disappointed. Rings the world 
 With the vain stir. I sum up half mankind, 
 And add two thirds of the remaining half, 
 And rind the total of their hopes and fears 
 Dreams, empty dreams. The million flit as gay. 
 As if created only like the fly, 
 That spreads his motley wings in th' eye of noon. 
 To sport their season, and be seen no more. 
 The rest are sober dreamers, grave and wise, 
 And pregnant with discoveries new and rare. 
 Some write a narrative of wars, and feats 
 Of heroes little known; and call the rant 
 A history : describe the man, of whom 
 His own coevals took but little note, 
 And paint his person, character, and views, 
 As they had known him from his mother's womb- 
 They disentangle from the puzzled skein, 
 In which obscurity has wrapp'd them up, 
 The threads of politic and shrewd design, 
 
THE GARDEN. 39 
 
 That ran through all his purposes, and charge 
 His mind with meanings that he never had. 
 Or. having, kept conceal Yi. Some drill and boro 
 The solid earth, and from the strata there 
 Extract u register, by w hich we learn, 
 That he who made it and reveal'd its date 
 To Moses, was mistaken in its age. 
 Some, more acute, and more industrious still, 
 Connive creation ; travel nature up 
 To the sharp p^ak of her sublimest height, 
 And tell us whence the sta s; why some are fivd, 
 And planetary some ; what gave them first 
 Rotation, from what fountain liow'd their light. 
 Great contest follows, and much learned dust 
 Involves the combatants ; each claiming truth, 
 And truth disclaiming both. And thus they spend 
 The little wick of life's poor shallow lamp 
 In playing tricks with nature, giving laws 
 To distant worlds, and trifling in their own. 
 Is't not a pity now. that tickling rheums 
 Should ever tease the lungs, and blear the sight 
 Of oracles like these ? Great pity, too, 
 That having wielded th' elements, and built 
 A thousand systems, each in his own way, 
 They should go out in fume, and be forgot ? 
 Ah ! what is life thus spent ? and what are thej - 
 Rut frantic, who thus spend it ? all tor smoke- 
 Eternity for bubbles, proves at last 
 A senseless bargain. When I see such games 
 Play'd by the creatures of a pow'r w ho swears 
 That he will judge the Earth, and call the fooi 
 To a sharp reck'ning, that has iiv'd in vain ; 
 And when I weigh this seeming wisdom well, 
 And prove it in th' infallible result 
 So hollow and so false — 1 feel my heart 
 Dissolve in pity, and aceou^* the UmrlrtJ, 
 If this be learning, most of all deceiv'd. 
 Great crimes alarm the conscience, but it sleep; 
 While thoughtful man is plausibly amus'd. 
 Defend me, therefore, eomroon sense, say I, 
 From reveries so airy, from the toil 
 
6u THE TASK 
 
 Of dropping buckets into empty wells, 
 And growing old in drawing nothing up i 
 
 'Twere well, says one, sage erudite, profound, 
 Terribly arch'd and aquiline his nose, 
 And overbuilt with most impending brows, 
 Twere well, could you permit the World to live 
 As the world pleasts : what's the World to you ? 
 Much. I was born of woman, and drew milk 
 As sweet as charity from human briars. 
 I think, articulate— I laugh and weep, 
 And exercise all functions of a man. 
 How flien should I and any man that lives 
 Be strangers to each other ? Pierce my vein, 
 Take of the crimson stream meand'ring there, 
 And catechise it well: apply thy glass, 
 Search it, and prove now if it be not blood 
 Congenial with thine own : and, if it be, 
 "What edge of subtlety canst thou suppose 
 Keen enough, wise and skillful as thou art, 
 To cut the link of brotherhood, hy which 
 One common Maker bound me to the kind ? 
 True; I am no proficient, I confess, 
 In arts like your's. I cannot call the swift 
 And perilous lightnings from the angry clouds; 
 And bid them hide themselves in earth beneath ; 
 I cannot analyze the ait , nor catch 
 The parallax of yonder luminous point, 
 That seems half quench'd in the immense abyss 
 Such powers I boast not— neither can I rest 
 A silent witness of the headlong rage, 
 Or heedless folly, by which thousands die, 
 Bone of my bone, and kindred souls to mine. 
 
 God never meant that man should scale the Heavens 
 By strides of human wisdom, in his works, 
 Though wondrous : he commands us in his word 
 To seek him rather where his mere) shines. 
 The mind, indeed, enlightened from above, 
 Mews him in all ; ascribes to the grand cause 
 
THE GARDEN. 
 
 The grand effect ; acknow ledges with joy 
 
 His maimer, and wiih rapture tasies !iis style. 
 
 But never yet did philosophic tube, 
 
 That brings the planets home into the eye 
 
 Of Observation, and discovers, else 
 
 Not visible, his family of worlds, 
 
 Discover Him t'mt rules them ; such a veil 
 
 Han^s over mortal eyes, blind from the birth, 
 
 And dark in things divine. Full often too, 
 
 Our way ward intellect, the more we learn 
 
 Of nature, overlooks her author more ; 
 
 From instrumental causes proud to draw 
 
 Conclusions retrograde, and mad mistake. 
 
 But if his word once teach us— shoot a ray 
 
 Through all the heart's dark chambers, and reveal 
 
 Truths undiscern'd but by that holy light, 
 
 Then all is plain. Philosophy, baptiz'd 
 
 In the pure fountain of eternal love, 
 
 Has eyes indeed ; and viewing all she sees 
 
 As meant to indicate a God to man, 
 
 Gives him his praise, and forfeits not her own. 
 
 Learning has borne such fruit in other days 
 
 On all her branches : piety has found 
 
 friends in the friends of science, and true prav'r 
 
 Has rlow'd from lips wet with Caslalian d< as. 
 
 Such was thy wisdom, New ton, child like sage! 
 
 Sagacious reader of the works of God, 
 
 And in his word sagacious. Saeh, too, thine, 
 
 Milton, whose genius had angelic wings, 
 
 And fed on manna ! And such thine, in whom 
 
 Our British Themis gloried with just cause, 
 
 Immortal trale! for deep discernment prais'd, 
 
 And sound integrity, hot more than fam'd 
 
 For sanctity of manners undefiTd. 
 
 All flesh i; grass, and all its glory fades 
 
 ■air flow'r disheveli'd in the wind; 
 Richejhavc wings, and grandeur is a dream, 
 kbe man we celebrate must find a tomb, 
 rtbd we thai worship him, ignoble graves. 
 
52 THE TASK. 
 
 Nothing is proof against the general curse 
 
 Of vanity that seizes all below. 
 
 The only amaranthine tiow'r on Earth 
 
 Is virtue ; th' only lasting treasure, truth. 
 
 But what is truth ? 'Twas Pilate's question put 
 
 To Truth itself, that deign'd him no reply. 
 
 And wherefore? will not God impart his light 
 
 To them that ask it ?— Freely— 'tis his joy, 
 
 His glory, and his nature, to impart. 
 
 But to the proud, uncandid, insincere, 
 
 Or negligent, inquirer, not a spark. 
 
 What's that which brings contempt upon a book, 
 
 And him who writes it, though the style be neat, 
 
 The method clear, and argument exact? 
 
 That makes a minister in holy things 
 
 The joy of many, and the dread of more, 
 
 His name a theme for praise and for reproach ?— 
 
 That, while it gives us worth in God's account. 
 
 Depreciates and undoes us in our own? 
 
 What pearl is it, that rich men cannot buy, 
 
 That learning is too proud to gather up; 
 
 Bui which the poor, and the despis'd of all, 
 
 Seek and obtain, and often find unsought ; 
 
 Tell me— and 1 will tell thee what is truth. 
 
 O friendly to the best pursuits of man, 
 Friendly to thought, to virtue, and to peace, 
 Doim stic life in rural pleasure pass'd I 
 Few know thy value, and few taste thy sweets ; 
 Though many boast thy favours, and arfect 
 To understand and choose thee for their own. 
 But foolish man forgoes his proper bliss, 
 E'en a» his first progenitor, and quits, 
 Though plae'd in Paradise, (for earth has still 
 Some tracts of her youthful beauty left,) 
 Substantial happiness for transient joy : 
 Scenes fcrm'd for contemplation, and to nursflfc 
 The growing seeds of wisdom; that sugg< 
 By tv'.y pleasing image they present, 
 Reflections such as meliorate the hear'. 
 
TOE GARDEN. 
 
 Compose the passions, and exalt the mind ; 
 
 Set pas such as these 'tis his supreme delight 
 | To fill with riot, and defile with blood. 
 | Should some contagion, kind to the poor brutes 
 I We persecute, annihilate the tribes 
 [That draw the sportsman over hill and dale, 
 ! Fearless and rapt away from all his cares ; 
 
 Should never game-fowl hatch her eggs again, 
 [NoHbaited hook deceive the fish's eye; 
 i'Could pageantry and dance, and feast and song, 
 ' Be quel I'd in all our summer-months' retreat ; 
 IHow many self-deluded nymphs and swains, 
 5 Who dream they have a taste for fields and groves, 
 I Would find them hideous nurs'ries of the spleen, 
 
 And crowd the roads, impatient for the town I 
 | They love the country, and none else, who seek, 
 JFor their own sake, its silence and its shade. 
 jDelights which who would leave thdjjias a heart 
 ^Susceptible of pity, or a mind jL ^ 
 
 jCultur'd and capable of sober thougta, £ 
 ■iFor all the savage din of the swift pack, 
 JAnd clamours of the field ?— Detested sport, 
 jThat owes its pleasures to another's pain ; 
 SThat feeds upon the sobs and dying shrieks ■ 
 »Of harmless nature, dumb, but yet endued 
 J With eloquence, that agonies inspire, 
 lOf silent tears and heart-distending sighs? 
 \ Vain tears, alas, and sighs that never find 
 I A corresponding tone in jovial souls ! 
 
 Well— one at least is safe. One sheltcr'd hare 
 
 Has never heard the sanguinary yell 
 
 Of cruel man. exulting in her woes, 
 jjlnnocent partner of my peaceful home, 
 ;!Whom ten long years' experience of my care 
 
 Has made at last familiar : she has lost 
 
 Much of her vigilant instinctive dread, 
 iNot needful here, beneath a roof like mine. 
 
 Yes-thou mayst eat thy bread, and lick the hand 
 ;i That feeds thee ; thou mayst frolic on the floor 
 I At ev'ning, and at night retire secure 
 
64 THE TASK. 
 
 To thy straw couch, and slumber unahrm V: 
 For I have gain'd thy confidence, have pledg'd 
 All that is human in me, to protect 
 Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love. 
 If I survive thee, I will dig thy grave ; 
 And, when I place thee in it, sighing say. 
 1 knew at least one hare that had a friend.'* 
 
 How various his employments, whom theworlo 
 Calh idle ; and who justly ia return 
 Esteems that busy world an idler too! 
 Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen. 
 Delightful industry enjoy'd at home. 
 And nature in her cultivated trim 
 Dress'd to his taste, inviting him abroad— 
 Can he want occupation who has these? 
 "Will he be idle who has much t' enjoy : 
 Me therefore studious of laborious ease. 
 No^othful, happy to deceive the time, 
 No^aste it. and aware that human life 
 Is but a loan to be repaid with use, 
 When He sba'! call his debtors to account. 
 Fronj whom are all our blessings, business finds 
 E'en here : while sedulous 1 seek t' improve, 
 At least neglect not. or leave unemploy'd, 
 Th ■> 3 Li!iid he gave me ; driving it, though slack 
 Too oft, and much impeded in its work 
 }$y causes net to be divulg'd in vain, 
 To its just point— the service of mankind. 
 He that atlei.ds to his interior self, 
 That has a h.-*>rt, and keeps it ; has a mind 
 That hungers and supplies it ; and who seeks 
 Asocial, not a dissipated life, 
 Has business; feels himself engag'd t' achieve 
 No unimportant, though a silent, task. 
 A lift all turbulence and noise may stem 
 To him that leads it wise, and to be prais'd; 
 Cut wisdom is a pearl with most success 
 
 * See the note at the end-. 
 
THE GARDEN. < 
 
 Sought in still water, and beneath clear skies. 
 He that is ever occupied in storms, 
 Or dives not for it, or brings up instead, 
 Vainly industrious, a disgraceful prize. 
 
 The morning finds the self-sequester'd man 
 Fresh for his task, intend what task he may. 
 Whether inclement seasons recommend 
 His warm but simple home, where be enjoys 
 With her who shares his pleasures and his heart, 
 Sweet converse, sipping calm the fragrant lymph, 
 Which neatly she prepares: then to his book 
 Well chosen, and not sullenly perus'd 
 In selfish silence, but imparted, oft 
 As aught occurs that she may smile to hear, 
 Or turn to nourishment, digested well. 
 Or if the garden with its many cares, 
 ! All well repaid, demand him, he attends 
 The welcome call, conscious how much the hand 
 |Of lubbard Labour needs his watchful eye, 
 Oft loit'ring lazily, if not o'erseen, 
 Or misapphing his unskilful strength. 
 jNor does he govern only, or direct, 
 iBut much performs himseli. No works, indeed, 
 That ask robust, tough sinews, bred to toil, 
 [Servile employ ; but such as may amuse, 
 Not tire, demanding rather skill than force. 
 jProud of his well-spread walls, he views his trees, 
 That meet, no barren interval between, 
 'With pleasure more than e'en their fruits afford ; 
 Which, save himself who trains them, none can feel. 
 jThese therefore are his own peculiar charge ; 
 No meaner hand may discipline the shoots, 
 ftfone but his steel approach them- What is weak, 
 | Distemper'd, or has lost prolific powVs, 
 ktmpair'd by age, his unrelenting hand 
 |; Dooms to the knife : nor does he spare the soft 
 \ And succulent, that feeds its giant growth, 
 But barren, at th' expense of neighb'ring twigs 
 r r™ ostentatious, and yet studded thick 
 
THE TASK. 
 
 With hopeful gems. The rest, no portion 
 That may disgrace his art, or disappoint 
 Large expectation, he disposes neat 
 At measur'd distauces, that air and sun, 
 Admitted freely may afford their aid, 
 And ventilate and warm the swelling buds. 
 Hence Summer has her riches, Autumn hence, 
 And hence e'en Winter fills his wither'd hand 
 With blushing fruits, and plenty not his own.* 
 Fair recompense oi labour well bestow'd, 
 And wise precaution ; which a clime so rude 
 Makes needful still, whose Spring is but the child 
 Of churlish Winter, in her froward moods 
 Discov'ring much the temper of her sire. 
 For oft, as if in her the stream of mild 
 Maternal nature had revers'd its course, 
 She brings her infants forth with many smiles ; 
 But once deliver'd, kills them with a frown. 
 He therefore, timely warn'd, himself supplies 
 Her want of care, screening and keeping warm 
 The plenteous bloom, that no rough blast may sweej 
 His garlands from the boughs. Again, as oft 
 As the sun peeps, and vernal airs breathe mild, 
 The fence withdrawn, he gives them ev'ry beam, 
 And spreads his hopes before the blaze of day. 
 
 To raise the prickly and green-coated gourd, 
 So grateful to the palate, and when rare 
 So coveted, else base and disesteem'd— 
 Food for the vulgar merely— is an art 
 That toiling ages have but just matur'd, 
 And at this moment unessay'd in song. 
 V* t gnats have had, and frogs and mice, long since. 
 Their eulogy ; those sang the Mantuan bard, 
 And these the Grecian, in ennobling strains ; 
 And in thy numbers, Phillips, shines for aye 
 The solitary shilling. Pardon, then, 
 Ye sage dispensers of poetic fame, 
 
 * Mirnf.urque novosfnictus et non suaponra. Virg. 
 
THE GARDEN. 6*/ 
 
 rh'arebmon of one meaner far, whose pow'i-s, 
 'resuming an attempt not less sublime, 
 'ant for the praise of dressing to the taste 
 )f critic appetite, no sordid fare, 
 I cucumber, while costly yet and scarce. 
 
 The stable yields a stercoraceous heap, 
 mpregnated with quick fermenting salts, 
 Ind potent to resist the freezing blast : 
 ^or ere the beech and elm have cast their leaf 
 Jeciduous, when now November dark 
 "hecks vegetation in the torpid plant 
 SxposYi to his cold breath, the task begins, 
 iVarily. therefore and with prudent heed, 
 
 - a favour'd spot ; that where he buildf 
 IV agglomerated pile his frame may front 
 The swa's meridian disk, and at the back 
 injoy close shelter, wall, or reeds, or hedge 
 mpervious to the wind. First he bids spread 
 3ry fern or litter'd hay, that may imbibe 
 Vh' ascending damps ; then leisurely impose. 
 Iljd lightly shaking it with agile hand 
 i r rom the full fork, the saturated straw. 
 JiVhat longest binds the closest forms seem* 
 Hie shapely side, that as it uses takes. 
 Syjust degrees, an overhanging breadth, 
 phelt'ring the base with its projected eaves: 
 Th' uplifted frame, compact at ev'ry joint. 
 \nd overlaid with clear translucent glass, 
 He settles next upon the sloping mount, 
 Whose sharp declivity shoots off s cure 
 iProm the dash'd pane the deluge as it falls. 
 !-{e shuts it close, and the first labour ends. 
 Ifhrice must the voluble and restless Earth 
 iSpin round upon her axle, ere the warmth, 
 iJlow gath'nng in the midst, through the square mas- 
 Diffused attain th surface ; when, behold! 
 A pestilent and most corrosive steam, 
 Like a gross fog Boeotian, rising fast, 
 /Vud last condens'd upon the dewy sash. 
 
68 THE TASK. 
 
 Asks egress? which obtain'd ; the overcharged 
 
 And drench'd conservatory breathes abroad, 
 
 In volumes wheeling slow the vapour dank; 
 
 And, purified, rejoices to have lost 
 
 Its foul inhabitant. But to assuage 
 
 Th' impatient fervour, which it first conceives 
 
 Within its reeking bosom, threat'ning death 
 
 To his young hopes, requires discreet delay. 
 
 Experience, slow preceptress, teaching oft 
 
 The way to glory by miscarriage foul, 
 
 Must prompt him, and admonish how to catch 
 
 Th" auspicious moment, when the temper'd heat, 
 
 Friendly to vital motion, may afford 
 
 Soft fomentation, and invite the seed. 
 
 The seed, selected wisely, plump, and smooth, 
 
 And glossy, he commits to pots of size 
 
 Diminutive, well fill'd with well-prepar'd 
 
 And fruitful soil, that has been treasur'd long, 
 
 And diank no moisture from the dripping clouds. 
 
 These on the warm and genial earth that hides 
 
 The smoking manure, and o'erspreads it all, 
 
 He places lightly, and, as time subdues 
 
 The rage of fermentation, plunges deep 
 
 In the soft medium, till they stand immers'd. 
 
 Then rise the tender gei-ms, upstarting quick 
 
 And spreading wide their spongy lobes ; at first 
 
 Pale, wan, and livid ; but assuming soon, 
 
 If fann'd by balmy and nutritious air, 
 
 Straip'd through the friendly mats, a vivid green. 
 
 Two leaves produe'd, two rough indented leaves, 
 
 Cautious he pinches from the second stalk 
 
 A pimple that portends a future sprout. 
 
 And interdicts its growth. Thence straight succeed! 
 
 The branches, sturdy to his utmost wish ; 
 
 Prolific all, and harbingers of more 
 
 The crowded roots demand enlargement now, 
 
 And transplantation in an ampler space. 
 
 Indulg'd in what they wish, they soon supply 
 
 Large foliage, overshadowing golden fiow'rs, 
 
 Blown on the snmtuitof the apparent fruit. 
 
THE GARDEN. 65 
 
 ere kave their sexes ; and when summer shines, 
 
 e bee transports the fertilizing meal 
 
 >m flow 'r to flow'r, and e'en the breathing air 
 
 ifts the rich prize to its appointed use. 
 
 t so when winter scowls. Assistant Art 
 
 en acts in Nature's office, brings to pass 
 
 e glad espousals, and ensures the crop. 
 
 '.nidge not, ye rich, (since Luxury must have 
 dainties, and the World's more num'rous half 
 es by contriving delicates for you,) 
 idge nut the cost. Ye little know the care?» 
 i vigilance, the labour, and the skill, 
 it day and night are exercis'd, and hang 
 m the ticklish balance of suspense, 
 it ye may garnish your profuse regales 
 :h summer fruits brought forth by wintry suns, 
 l thousand dangers lie in wait to thwart 
 | process. Heat, and cold, and wind, and steam, 
 sture and drought, mice, worms, and swarming 
 
 flies, 
 iUte as dust, and numberless, oft work 
 i disappointment, that admits no cure, 
 I which no care can obviate. It were long, 
 i long, to tell th' expedients and the shifts, 
 ich he that fights a season so severe 
 ises while he guards his tender trust ; 
 I oft at last in vain. The learn'd and wise 
 astie would exclaim, and judge the song 
 I as its theme, and like its theme the fruit 
 oo much labour, worthless when produc'd, 
 
 Tio loves a garden loves a green-hcuse too. 
 onscious of a less propitious clime, 
 re blooms exotic beauty, warm and snug, 
 le the winds whistle and the snows descend. 
 
 spiry myrtle with unwitb'ring leaf 
 ies there, and flourishes. The golden boast 
 'ortugal and western India there, 
 
 ruddiei orange, and the paler lime, 
 
70 THE TASK. 
 
 Peep through their polish'd foliage at the storm, 
 And seem to smile at what they need not fear. 
 The amomuui there with intermingling flow'rs 
 And cherries hangs her twigs. Geranium boasts 
 Her crimson honours; and the spangled beau, 
 Ficoides glitters bright the winter long. 
 All plants of ev'ry leaf, that can endure 
 The winter's frown. if screen'd from his shrewd bi 
 Live there, and prosper. Those Ausonia claims, 
 Levantine regions these ; th* Azores send 
 Their jessamine, her jessamine remote 
 CafFraia: foreigners from many lands, 
 They form one social shade, as if conven'd 
 By magic summons of th' Orphean lyre. 
 Yet just arrangement, rarely brought to pass 
 But by a master's hand, disposing well 
 The gay diversities of leaf and flow'r, 
 Must lend its aid c' illustrate all their charms, 
 And dress th° regular yei various scene. 
 Pktnt behind plant aspiring, in the van 
 The dwarfish, in the rear retir'd, but still 
 SubliiiK above the rest, the statelier stand. 
 So once were rang'd the sons of ancient Rome, 
 A noble ihow ! while Roscius trod the stage ; 
 And so, while Garrick, as renown'das he, 
 The sons of Albion ; fearing each to lose 
 Some note of Nature's music from his lipsj 
 And covetous of Shakspeare's beauty, seen- 
 In ev'ry Hash of his far-beaming eye. 
 Nor taste alone and well-c&ntriv'd display 
 Suffice to g:ve the marshall'd ranks the grace 
 Of their complete effect. Much yet remains 
 Unsung, and many caves are yet behind, 
 And more laborious; cares on which depend. 
 Their vigour, injur'd soon, not soon restor'd. 
 The soil must be renew'd, which often washed 
 Loses its treasure of salubrious saks, 
 And disappoints the roots; the slender roots 
 Close interwoven, where they meet the vase 
 Must smooth be shorn away; the sapless branelt 
 
THE GARDEN. 
 
 lust fly before the knife ; the wither 'd leaf 
 ;ust bedetach'd^nd where it strews the floor 
 wept with a woman's neatness, breeding else 
 antagion and disseminating death, 
 iscbarge but these kind offices, (and who 
 'ould spare, that loves them, offices like these ?) 
 r ell they reward the toil. The sight is pleas'd, 
 he scent regal'd, each odorif 'rous leaf, 
 ach op'ning blossom, freely breathes abroad 
 s gratitude, and thanks bim with its sweets. 
 
 So manifold, all pleasing in their kind, 
 •1 heathful, are th' employs of rural life, 
 eiterated as the wheel of time 
 uns round ; still ending, and beginning still, 
 jrare these all. To deck the shapely knoll, 
 hat softly swell'd and gayly dress'd appears 
 8owVy island, from the dark green lawn 
 merging, must be deem'd a labour due 
 o no mean hand, and asks the touch of taste* 
 •3re also grateful mixture of well-mateh'd 
 rid sorted hues, (each giving each relief, 
 nd by contrasted beauty shining more,) 
 needful. Strength may wield the pond'rous spade, 
 ay turn the clod, and wheel the compost home ; 
 Jt elegance, chief grace the garden shows, 
 rid most attractive, is the fair result 
 "thought, the creature of a polish 'd mind, 
 'ithout it all is gothic as the scene 
 o which th' insipid citizen resorts 
 ;ar yonder heath ; where industry mispent, 
 it proud of his uncouth, ill-chosen task, 
 is made a Heav'n on Earth; with suns and moona 
 f close-ramm'd stones has charg'd th' eneumber'd 
 
 soil, 
 id fairly laid the zodiac in the dust. 
 ", therefore, who would see his flow'rs dispos'd 
 ghtlv aii] in jiiit order, ere be gives 
 tie beds the trusted treasure of their eeds, 
 •recasts the future whole : that, wh.eut he scena 
 
72 THE TASK. 
 
 Shall break into its preconceiv'd display 
 
 Each for itself, and all as with one voice 
 
 Conspiring, may attest his bi ight design. 
 
 Nor even then dismissing as perform "d, 
 
 His pleasant work, may he suppose it done. 
 
 Few self-supported flow'rs endure the wind 
 
 Uninjur'd but expect th' upholding aid 
 
 Of the smooth-shaven prop, and, neatly tied, 
 
 Are weddt d thus, like beauty to old age, 
 
 For int'rest sake, the living to the dead. 
 
 Some clothe the soil that feeds them, far diffus'd 
 
 And lowly creeping, modest and yet fair, 
 
 Like virtue, thriving must where little seen : 
 
 Some more aspiring catch the neighbour shrub 
 
 With clasping tendrils, and invest his branch, 
 
 Else unadorn'd, with many a gay festoon 
 
 And flagrant chaplet, recompensing well 
 
 The strength they borrow with the grace they lend. 
 
 All hate the rank society of weeds, 
 
 Noisome, and ever greedy to exhaust 
 
 Th' impov'rish'd earth; an overbearing race, 
 
 That, like the multitude made faction mad, 
 
 Disturb good order, and degrade true worth. 
 
 O blest seclusion from a jarring world, 
 Which he, thus occupied, enjoys ! Retreat 
 Cannot indeed to guilty man restore 
 Lost innocence, or cancel tollies past ; 
 But it has peace, and much secures the mind 
 From all assaults of evil ; proving still 
 A faithful barrier, not o'erleap'd with^ease 
 By vitious Custom, raging uncontroll'd 
 Abroad, and desolating public life. 
 When fierce Temptation, seconded within 
 Bv traitor Appetite, and arm*d with darts 
 Temper'd in Hell, invades the throbbing breast* 
 To combat may be- glorious, and success 
 Perhaps may crown us; but to fly is safe. 
 Had I the choice of sublunary good, 
 What eould I wish, tliat I possess not here ? 
 
THE GARDEN. 73 
 
 Health, leisure, meanst' improve it, friendship, peac e, 
 No loose or wanton, though a wand'ring muse, 
 And constant occupation without cai-e. 
 Thus blest, I draw a picture of that bliss ; 
 Hopeless, indeed, that dissipated minds, 
 And profligate abusers of a world 
 Created fair so much in vain for them. 
 Should seek the guiltless joys that I describe, 
 Allur'd by my report : But sure no less 
 That self-condemn'd they must neglect the prize, 
 And what they will not taste must yet approve. 
 What we admire we praise ; and when wt- praise 
 Advance it into notice, that, its worth 
 Acknowledg'd, others may admire it too. 
 I therefore recommend, though at the risk 
 Of popular disgust, yet boldly still, 
 The cause of piety and sacred truth. 
 And virtue, and those scenes which God ordain'd 
 Should best secure them, and promote them most ; ' 
 Scenes that I love, and with regret perceive 
 Forsaken, or through folly not enjoy'd. 
 Pure is the nymph, though lib'ral of her smiles, 
 And chaste, though unconfin'd, whom I extol. 
 Not a; the prince in Shushan, when he cali'd, 
 Vainglorious of her charms, his Vashti forth, 
 To grace; the full pavilion. His design 
 Was but to boast his own peculiar good, 
 Which all might view with envy, none partake. 
 My charmer is not mine alone; my sweets, 
 And she that sweetens all my bitters too, 
 Nature, enchanting Nature, in whose form 
 And lineaments divine I trace a hand 
 That errs not, and find raptures still renew 'd, 
 ts free to all men— universal prize. 
 Stt-ange that so fair a creature should yet want 
 Admirers, and be destin'd to divide 
 With meaner objects e'en the few she finds ! 
 Stripp'd of her ornaments, her leaves and tluw'rs, 
 She loses all her influence. Cities then 
 Attract us, and neglected Nature pii.es 
 VOL. II. 1> * 
 
74 THE TASK. 
 
 Abandon'd as unworthy of out love. 
 But are not wholesome airs, though unperfum'd 
 By roses ; and clear suns, though scarcely felt; 
 And groves, if (inharmonious, yet secure 
 From clamour, and whose vtry silence charms ; 
 To be preferr'd to smoke, to the eclipse, 
 That metropolitan volcanoes make, 
 Whose Stygian throats breathe darkness all day long; 
 And to the stir of Commerce, driving slow, 
 And thundering loud, with his ten thousand wheels ? 
 They would be, were not madness in the head, 
 And folly in the heart ; were England now, 
 What England was, plain, hospitable, kind, 
 And undebauch'd. But we have bid farewell 
 To all the virtues of those better days, 
 And all their honest pleasures. Mansions once 
 Knew their own masters ; and laborious hinds, 
 Who had nirov'd the father, serv'd the son. 
 "Now, the legitimate and rightful lord 
 ;? hut a transient guest, newly arrival. 
 And soon to be supplanted. He that saw 
 His patrimonial timber cast its leaf, 
 Sells the last scantling, and transfers the price 
 To some shrewd sharper, ere it buds again. 
 Estates are landscapes, gaz'd upon a while, 
 Then advevtis'd, and auctioncer'd away. 
 The country starves, and they that feedth' o'ercharg' 
 And surfeited lewd town with her fair dues, 
 By :;ju it judgment strip and starve themselves. 
 The wings that waft our riches out of sight, 
 Grow on the gamester's elbows, and the alert 
 And nimble motion of those restless joints, 
 That never tire, soon fans them all away. 
 I improvement, too, the idol of the age, 
 Is fed with many a victim. Lo, he comes I 
 Th' omnipotent magician, Brown, appears ! 
 
 falls the venerable pile, th' abode 
 Of our forefathers—a grave whisker'd race, 
 But tasteless. Springs a palace in its stead, 
 raorejexpos'd 
 
THE GARDEN. 
 
 It may enjoy th' advantage of the north, 
 And aguish east, till time shall have transform'd 
 Those naked acres to a sheltering grove. 
 He speaks. The lake in front Incomes a lawn: 
 Woods vanish, hills subside, and valleys rise: 
 And streams, as if created for his use, 
 Pursue the track of his directing wand, 
 Sinuous or straight, now rapid and now slow, 
 Now mu rm 'ring soft, now roaring in cascades— 
 E'en as he bids i Th' enraptur'd owner smiles. 
 'Tis fi;,ish'd, and yet. finisVd as it seems, 
 Still wa tiest it could show, 
 
 A mine to satisfy th" enormous cost. 
 Drain 'd to the last poor item of his wealth, 
 He sighs, departs, and haves th' accomplished plan 
 has touch'd, retouch'd, many along day 
 Labour 'd, and many a night pursu'd in dreams, 
 Just when it meets . d proves the Heav'n 
 
 lie wasted, for a wealth ier to enjoy ! 
 And now perhaps the glorious hour is come, 
 "When, having no stake left, no pledge t' endear 
 Her jnt'rests, or that g ; . ves her sacred cause 
 A moment's operation on his love. 
 He bums with most intense and flagrant zeal, * 
 To serve his country. Ministerial grace 
 Deals him out money from the public chest.; 
 Or, if that mine be shut, some private purse 
 Supplies liis need with a usurious loan. 
 To be refunded duly, when hi - vote 
 Well-manag'd shall have earn L d its worthy price. 
 O innocent, compar'd with arts like these, 
 Crape, and cock'd pistol, and the whistling ball 
 Sent through the traveler's templesJ He that finds 
 One drop of HeavVs sweet mercy in his cup, 
 Can dig, beg, rot, and perish, well content, 
 So he may wrap himself in honest * sars 
 At his last gasp ; but could not for a world 
 Fish up his dirty and dependent I 
 From pools and ditches of tiie con. 
 Sordid and sick'ning at his own succes.% 
 
76 THE TASK. 
 
 Ambition, av'rice, penury, incurv'tl, 
 By endless riot, vanity, the lust / 
 
 Of pleasure and variety, despatch 
 As duly as the swallows disappear, 
 The world of wand'ring knights and squires to town. 
 London ingulfs them all ! The shark is there, 
 And the shark's prey ; the spendthrift, and the leech 
 That sucks him : there the sycophant, and he 
 Who, with bareheaded and obsequious bows, 
 Begs a warm office, doom'd to a cold gaol 
 And groat per diem, if his patron frown. 
 The levee swarms, as if in golden pomp 
 "Were character'd on ev'ry statesman's door, 
 " Battered and bankrupt furtunts mended here-" 
 These are the charms that sully and eclipse 
 The charms of nature. 'Tis the cruel gripe, 
 That lean, hard-handed Poverty inflicts, 
 The hope of better things, the chance to win, 
 The wish to shine, the thirst to beamus'd, 
 That at the sound of Winter's hoary wing 
 Unpeople all our countries of such herds 
 Of flutt'rir.g, loit'ring, cringing, begging, loose, 
 And wanton vagrants, as make London, vast 
 And boundless as it is, a crowded coop. 
 
 O thou resort and mart of all the Earth, 
 Checker'd with all complexions of mankind, 
 And spotted with all crimes ; in whom I see 
 ]Viuch that I love, and more that I admire, 
 And all that I abhor ; thou freckled fair, 
 That pleasest and yet shock'st me ! I can laugh, 
 And I can weep, can hope, and can despond, 
 Feel wrath and pity, when I think on thee I 
 Ten righteous would have sav'd a city once, 
 And thou hast many righteous.— Well for thee— 
 That salt preserves thee ; more corrupted else, 
 And therefore more obnoxious, at this hour, 
 Than Sodom in her day had pow'r to be, 
 For whom God heard his Abr'ham plead in paio« 
 
THE TASK 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
ARGUMENT OF THE FOURTH BOOK. 
 
 The post comes in....The newspaper is read....The 
 World contemplated at a distance....Address to Win- 
 ter.„.The rural amusements of a winter evening 
 compared with the fashionable ones.... Address to 
 
 eveniog.«.A brown study Fall of snow in the 
 
 evening..»The wagoner ....A poor family piece....The 
 rural thief....Publie houses... .The muhitu.de of them 
 i nsured....The farmer's daughter: what she was.... 
 what she is....The simplicity of country manners 
 almost lost....Causts of the change.... Desertion oi the 
 country by the nen.;..Neglect of magistrates....The 
 militia principally in fault....The new recruit and 
 his trans formation....Ri flection on bodies corporate 
 ....'1 lie fove of rural objects natural to all, and never 
 to be total!; extinguished. 
 
THE TASK. 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 THE WINTER EVENING. 
 
 HARK ! 'tis the twanging born o'er yonder bridge. 
 That with its wearisome but needful length 
 Bestrides the wintVyflood ; in which the moon 
 Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright;—' 
 He come?, the herald of a noisy world, 
 With spatter'd boots, strapp'd waist, and frozen lock: 
 News from all nations lumb'ring at his back. 
 True to his charge, the close-pack *d load behind, 
 Yet careless what he brings, his one concern 
 Is to conduct it to the destin'd inn ; 
 And, having dropp'd th' expected bag, pass on 
 He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch- 
 Cold and yet cheerful : messenger of grief 
 Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some ; 
 To him indiffrent whether grief or joy. 
 Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks, 
 Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet 
 "With tears, that trickled down the writer's checks 
 Fast as the periods from his fluent quill, 
 Or charg'd with am'rous sighs of absent swains. 
 Or nymphs responsive, equally affect 
 His horse and him, unconscious of them all. 
 But O, th' important budget ! nsher'd in 
 With such heart-shaking music, who can say 
 What are its tidings ? have our troops awak'd ! 
 Or do they still, as if with opium drugg'd. 
 
80 THE TASK. 
 
 Snore to the murmurs of th' Atlantic wave: 
 Is India free ? and does she wear her pium'd 
 And jewdl'd turban with a smile of peace, 
 Or do wo grind her still ? The grand debate, 
 The popular harangue, the tart reply, 
 The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit, 
 And the loud laugh— I long to know them all ; 
 I burn to set th' imprisnn'd wranglers free, 
 And give them voice aud utt'rance once again. 
 
 Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, 
 Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, 
 And, while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn 
 Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, 
 That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, 
 So let us welcome peaceful ev'ning in. 
 Not such his ev'ning, who with shining face 
 Sweats i-j the crowded theatre, and, squeez'd 
 And bor'd with elbow points through both his sides, 
 Outscolds the ranting actor on the stage : 
 Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb, 
 And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath 
 Of patriots, bursting with heroic rage, 
 Or placemen, all tranquillity and smiles. 
 This folio of four pages, happy work ! 
 Which not e'en critics criticise ; that holds 
 Inquisitive attention, while; I read, 
 TFast bound in chains of silence, whicii the fair, 
 Though eloquent themselves, yet fear to break ; 
 What is it, but a map of busy life, 
 its fluctuations, and its vast concerns? 
 Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge, 
 'that tempts Ambition. On the summit, see 
 The seals of office glitter in his eyes ; 
 He climbs, he pants, he grasps them ! At his heels, 
 Close at Ids heels, a demagogue ascends, 
 And with a dext'rous jerk soon twists him down, 
 And wins them, but to lose them in his turn. 
 Here rills of oily eloquence, in soft 
 Meanders, lubricate the course they take ; 
 The modest speaker is asham'd and griev'd, 
 
THE WINTER EVENING. { 
 
 T' engross a moment's notice ; and yet begs, 
 
 Begs a propitious ear for his poor thoughts, 
 
 However trivial all that he conceives. 
 
 Sweet bashfulness ; it claims at least this praise : 
 
 The dearth of information and good sense 
 
 That it foretells us always comes to pass. 
 
 Cat'racts of declamation thunder here; 
 
 There forests of no meaning spread the page, 
 
 In which all comprehension wanders, lost; 
 
 While fields of pleasantry amuse as there 
 
 With merry descants on a nation's woes. 
 
 The rest appears a wilderness of strange 
 
 But gay confusion ; roses for the cheeks, 
 
 And lilies for the brows of faded age, 
 
 Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald, 
 
 Heav'n, earth, and ocean, plunder'd of their sweets, 
 
 Nectareous essences. Olympian dews, 
 
 Sermons, and city feasts, and fav'rite airs, 
 
 Ethereal journeys. submarine exploits, 
 
 And Katterfelto, with his hair on end 
 
 At his o wn wonders, wond'ring for his bread. 
 
 'Tis pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat. 
 To peep at such a world; tasee the stir 
 Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd ; 
 To hear the roar she sends through all her gates 
 At a safe distance, where the djiug sound 
 Falls a soft murmur on th' uninjur'd tar. 
 Thus sitting, and surveying thus at ease 
 The globe and its concerns, I seem advane'd 
 To some secure and more than mortal height, 
 That liberates and exempts me from them all. 
 It turns submitted to my view, turns round 
 With all its generations; I behold 
 The tumult, and am still. The sound of war 
 Has lost its terrors tie it reaches me ; 
 Griev. s, but alarms me not. I mourn the pride 
 And av'riee that makL- man a wolf to man ; 
 Hear tii, (afrit echo of those brazen throats, 
 By which he speaks the language of his hear:, 
 And sigh, but never tremble at the sound, 
 D2 
 
82 THE TASK. 
 
 He travels and expatiates, as the bee 
 From flow'r to flow'r, so he from land to land ; 
 The manners, customs, policy, of all 
 Pay contribution to the store he gleans ; 
 He sucks intelligence in ev'ry clime, 
 And spreads the honey ofbis drep research 
 At Ins return—a rich repast foi mt. 
 He travels, and I too. I tread his deck, 
 Ascend his topnutst, through his peering eyes 
 Discover countries, with a kindred heart 
 Suffer his woes, and share in his escapes ; 
 While fancy, like the finger of a clock, 
 Runs the great circuit, and is still at home. 
 
 O Winter, ruler of th' inverted year, 
 Thy scatter'd hair with sleet-like ashes fill'd, 
 Thy breath congeal'd upon thy lips, thy cheeks 
 Fring'd with a beard made white with other snows 
 Than those of age, <% forehead wrapp'd in clouds, 
 A leafeless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne 
 A sliding car, indebted to no wheels, 
 But urg'd by storms along its slippVy way, 
 I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st, 
 And dreaded as thou art J Thou hold'st the sun 
 A pris'ner in the yet undawning east, 
 Short'ning his journey between morn and noon, 
 And hurrying him, impatient of his stay, 
 Down to the rosy west ; but kindly still 
 Compensating his loss with added hours 
 Of social converse and instructive ease, 
 And gath'ring, at short notice, in one group 
 The family dispers'd, and fixing thought, 
 Not less dispers'd by daylight and its cares. 
 I crown thee king of intimate delights, 
 Fireside enjoyments, homeborn happiness, 
 And all the comforts that the lowly roof 
 Of undisturb'd Retirement, and the hours 
 Of long uninterrupted ev'ning, know. 
 No rattling wheels stop short before these gates ; 
 No powd#r'd pert proficient in the art 
 Of sounding 1 an alarm, assaults these doors 
 
THE WINTER EVENING. 8: 
 
 Till the street lings ; no stationary steeds 
 
 Cough their own knell, while, heedless of the sound, 
 
 The silent circle fan themselves, and quake ; 
 
 Rut here the needle plies its busy task, 
 
 The pattern grows, the well-depicted flow'r, 
 
 Wrought patiently into a snowy lawn, 
 
 Unfolds its bosom ; buds, and leaves, and sprigs, 
 
 And curling tendrils, gracefully dispos'd, 
 
 Follow the nimble finger of the fair ; 
 
 A wreath, that cannot fade, of flow Vs that blow 
 
 With most success when all beside decay. 
 
 The poet's or historian's page by one 
 
 Made vocal for th' amusement of the rest ; 
 
 The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet sounds 
 
 The touch from many a trembling chord shakes out; 
 
 And the clear voice symphonious, yet distinct, 
 
 And in the charming strife triumphant still, 
 
 Reguile the night, and set a keener edge 
 
 On female industry : the threaded steel 
 
 Flies swiftly, and unfeit the tasks proceeds. 
 
 1 he volume clos'd, the customary rites 
 
 Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal; 
 
 Such as the mistress of the world once found 
 
 Delicious, when her patriots of high note, 
 
 Perhaps by moonlight, at their humble door9, 
 
 And under an old oak's domestic shade, 
 
 Enjoy'd, spare feast ! a radish and an egg. 
 
 Discourse ensues, not trivial, yet not dull, 
 
 Nor such as with a frown forbids the play 
 
 Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirth: 
 
 Nor do we madly, like an impious World, 
 
 Who deem religion frenzy, and the God 
 
 That made them an intruder on their joys, 
 
 Start at his awful name, or deem his praise 
 
 A jarring note. Themes of a graver tone, 
 
 Exciting oft our gratitude and love, 
 
 While we retrace with Menrry's pointing wand. 
 
 That calls the past to our exact review, 
 
 The dangers we have 'scaped, the broken snare, 
 
 The disappointed foe, delivYance found 
 
84 THE TASK. , 
 
 Unlook'd for, life preserv'd, and peace lestor d; 
 Fruits of omnipotent eternal love. 
 O ev'nings worthy of tht gods] exclaim'd 
 The Sabine bard. O ev'nings, I reply, 
 More to be priz'd and coveted than your *s, . 
 As more illumin'd, and with nobler truths, 
 That I, and mine, and those we love, enjoy. 
 
 Is Winter hideous in a garb like this ? 
 Needs he the tragic fur, the smoke of lamps, 
 The pent-up breath of an unsav'ry throng, 
 To thaw him into feeling ; or the smart 
 And snappish dialogue, that flippant wils 
 Call comedy, to prompt him with a smile .' 
 The self-complacent actor, when he views 
 ( Stealing a sidelong glance at a full house) 
 The slope of faces, from the floor to th' roof, 
 (As if one master spring controll'd them all,) 
 Relax'd into a universal grin, 
 Sees not a count'nance there, that speaks of joy 
 Half so refin'd or so sincere as our's. 
 Cards were superfluous here, with all the tricks 
 That idleness has ever yet contriv'd 
 To fill the void of an unfurnish'd brain, 
 To palliate dulness, and give time a shove. 
 Time, as he passes us, has a dove's wing, 
 Vnsoil'd,and swift, and of a silken sound ; 
 But the world's Time is Time in masquerade ' 
 Their's, should I paint him, has his pinions fledgYl 
 With motley plumes ; and where the peacock shows 
 His azure eyes, is tinctui'd black and red 
 With spots quadrangular of diamond form, 
 Ensanguin'd hearts, clubs typical of strife 
 And spades, ihe emblem of untimely graves. 
 What should be, and what was an hourglass once, 
 Becomes a dicebox, and a billiard' mace 
 Well does the work of his destructive sithe. 
 Thus deck'd, he charms a World whom Fashion blinds 
 To his true woi.h, most pleas'd when idle most ; 
 Whose only happy, are their wasted honrs. 
 
THE WINTER EVENING. 
 
 I'en misses, at whose age their mothers wore 
 jhe baekstring and the bib, assume the dress 
 If womanhood, sit pupils in the school 
 If card-devoted lime, and, night by night, 
 llac'd at some vacant corner of the board, 
 learn ev'ry trick, and soon play all the game. 
 Jut truce with censure. Roving as I rove, 
 Inhere shall I find an end, or how proceed? 
 Is he that travels far oft turns aside, 
 Jo view some rugged rock or mould'ring tow'r, 
 j/hich seen, delights him not; then coming home-; 
 escribes and prints it, that the world may know 
 J ow far he went for what was nothing worth : 
 J J I, with brush in hand and pallet spread, 
 l/ith colours mix'd for a far diff 'rent use, 
 laint cards, and dolls, and ev : ry idle thing, 
 J hat Fancy finds in her excursive flights. 
 
 Come Ev'ning, once again, season of peace 
 leturn, sweet Ev'ning, and continue long ! 
 lethinks I see thee in the streak) west, 
 Vith matron step slow-moving, while the Night 
 .'reads on thy sweeping train ; one hand employed 
 n letting fall the curtain of repose 
 >n bird and beast, the other charg'd far man 
 Vith sweet oblivion of the cares of day : 
 Jot sumptuously adorn 'd, nor needing aid, 
 ..ike honiely-featur'd Night, of clust'ring genu ; 
 1 star or two. just twinkling on thy brow, 
 uffices thee ; save tliat the moon is thine 
 <o less than her's, not worn indeed on high 
 tVith ostentatious pageantry, but set 
 With modest grandeur in thy purple zone, 
 Resplendent less, but of an ampler round.; 
 onie then, and thou shalt find thy vot'ry calm 
 3r make me so. Composure is thy gift : 
 And, whether I devote thy gentle hours 
 To books, to music, or the poet's toil ; 
 To weaving nets for bird alluring fruit; 
 Or twining silken threads round iv'rj reels, 
 
hS THE TASK. 
 
 When they command whom man was born to please 
 1 slight thee not, but make thee welcome still. 
 
 Just when our drawing rooms begin to blaze 
 "With lights, by clear reflection multiplied 
 From many a mirror, in which he of Oath 
 Goliah, might have seen his giant bulk 
 Whole without stooping, tow 'ring crest and all, 
 My pleasures, too, begin. But me, perhaps, 
 The glowing hearth may satisfy a while 
 With faint illumination, that uplifts 
 The shadows to the ceiling, there by fits 
 Dancing uncouthly to the quiv'ring flame, 
 Not undelightful is an hour to me 
 So spent in parlour twilight: such a gloom 
 Suits well the thoughtful or unthinking mind, 
 The mind contemplative, with some new theme 
 Pregnant, or indispos'd i^"ke to all. 
 Laugh ye, who boast your more mercurial pow'rs. 
 That never feel a stupor, know no pause, 
 Nor need one ; I am conscious, and confess 
 Fearless, a soul that does not always think. 
 Me ofthas Fancy, ludicrous and wild, 
 Sooth'd with a waking dream of houses, tow'rs, 
 Trees, churches, and strange visages, express'd 
 In the red cinders, while with poring eye 
 I gaz'd, mysi If creating what I saw. 
 Nor less amus'd have I quiescent watch'd 
 The sooty films that play upon the bars 
 Pendulous, and foreboding in the view 
 Of superstition, prophesying still, 
 Though still deceiv'd, some stranger's near approach 
 "Tis thus the understanding takes repose 
 In indolent vacuity of thought, 
 And sleeps and is refresh'd. Meanwhile the face 
 Conceals the mood lethargic with a ma«k 
 Of deep deliberation, as the man 
 Were taskM to his full strength, absoib'd and lost. 
 Thus oft, recliivd at ease, I lose an hour 
 At ev'mng, till at length the freezing blast 
 That sweeps the bolted shutter, summons home 
 
THE WINTER EVENING. 
 
 lie recollected pow'rs; and, snapping short 
 lie glassy threads, with which the Fancy weaves 
 it brittle toys, restores me to myself. 
 jw calm is my recess; and how the frost, 
 aging abroad, and the rough wind, endear 
 lie silence and the warmth enjoy 'd within ! 
 saw the woods and fields at close of day, 
 variegated show ; the meadows green, 
 hough faded ; and the lands, where lately wav'd 
 he golden harvest, of a mellow brown, 
 pturn'd so lately by the forceful share, 
 jaw far off the weedy fallows smile 
 ith verdure not unprofitable, graz'd 
 f flocks, fast feeding, and selecting each 
 is fav'rite herb : while all the leafless groves 
 hat skirt th' horizon wore a sable hue, 
 larce notie'd in the kindred dusk of eve. 
 ©•morrow brings a change, a total change I 
 'hich even now, though silently perform 'd 
 nd slowly, and by most unfelt, the face 
 f universal nature undergoes, 
 ast falls a fleecy show'r : the downy flakes 
 escending, and with never-ceasing lapse, 
 oftly alighting upon all below, 
 ssimilate all objects. Earth receives 
 ladly the thick'ning mantle ; and the green 
 nd tender blade, that fear'd the chilling blast, 
 .scapes unhurt beneath so warm a veil. 
 
 In such a world, so thorny, and where none 
 inds happiness unblighted, or, if found, 
 Vithout some thistly sorrow at its side; 
 
 seems the part of wisdom, and no sin 
 igainst the law of love, to measure lots 
 Villi less distingnish'd than onrselves ; that thus 
 Ve may with patience bear our moderate ills, 
 knd sympathize with others suff 'ring more. 
 11 fares the trav'ller now, and he that stalks 
 n pond'rous boots beside his reeking team. 
 fhe wain goes heavily, impeded sore 
 
*3 THE TASK. 
 
 By congregated loads adhering close 
 To the clogg'd wheels ; and in its sluggish pace 
 Noiseless appears a moving hill of snow. 
 The toiling steeds expand the nostril wide, 
 While ev'ry breath, by respiration strong 
 Forc'd downward, is consolidated soon 
 Upon their jutting chests. He, form'd to bear 
 The pelting brunt of the tempestuous night, 
 With half shut ejes, and pucker'd cheeks and teetl 
 Presented bare against the storm, plods on. 
 One hand secures his hat, save when with both 
 He brandishes his pliant length of whip, 
 Resounding oft, and never heard in vain. 
 O happy ; and in my account denied 
 That sensibility of pain with which 
 Refinement is endu'd, thrice happy thou ! 
 Thy frame, robust and hardy, feels indeed 
 The piercing cold, but feels it unimpair'd. 
 The learned finger never med explore 
 Thy vig'rous pulse; and the unheathfuleast, 
 That breathes the spleen, and searches ev'ry bone 
 O: the infirm, is wholesome air to thee. 
 Thy days roll on exempt from household care; 
 Tin wagon is thy wife ; and the poor beasts, 
 Thr. drag the dull companion to and fro, 
 Thine helpless charge, dependent on thy care. 
 Alu < ;.t them kindly ! rude as thou apptar'st, 
 Yet she >> that thou hast mercy ! which the great. 
 With needless hurry whirl'd from place to place, 
 Humane as they would seem, not always show. 
 
 Pour, yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat, 
 Such claim compassion in a night like this, 
 And have a friend in evVy feeling heart. 
 Warm'd, whih it lasts, by labour, all day long 
 They brave the season, and yet find at eve, 
 111 clad, and fed but span ly, time to cool. 
 The tnfgftl ho«i«. -vii'i trembles when sh< j lights 
 Her scant, nock uf3>n shwood, blading clear, 
 Jtfut dying soon, like all terrestrial joys. 
 
THE WINTER EVENING. 89 
 
 few small mbers left she nurses well ; 
 while her infant race, with outspread hands, 
 crowded knees, sit cow'ring o'er the sparks, 
 ires, content to quake, so they be warm'd. 
 : man feels least, as more inur'd than she 
 winter, and the current in his veins 
 e briskly mov'd by his severer toil ; 
 he too finds his own distress in their's. 
 \ taper soon extinguished, which I saw 
 igled along at the cold finger's end 
 : when the day declin'd ; and the brown loaf 
 g'd on the shelf, half eaten without sauce 
 iav'ry cheese, or butter, costlier still; 
 p seems their only refuge : for, alas! 
 ere pe» : is felt the thought is chain'd, 
 1 sweet .oquial pleasures are but few ! 
 th all ttifl thrift they thrive not. All the care 
 enious Parsimony takes, but just 
 es the small inventory, bed, and stool, 
 llet, and old carv'd chest, from public sale, 
 ey live, and live without extorted alms 
 im grudging hands: but other boasts have none, 
 sooth their honest pride, that scorns to beg, 
 r comfort else, but in their mutual love, 
 raise you much, ye meek and patient pair, 
 ye are worthy ; choosing rather far 
 Iry but independent crust, hard earn'd, 
 id eaten with a sigh, than to endure 
 ie rugged frowns and insolent rebuffs 
 knaves in office, partial in the work 
 distribution ; lib'ral of their aid 
 clam'rous Importunity in rags, 
 t ofttimes deaf to suppliants, who would blush 
 wear a tatter'd garb, however coarse, 
 horn famine cannot reconcile to filth : 
 lese ask with painful shyness, and, refus'd 
 cause deserving, silently retire I 
 it be ye of good courage ! Time itself 
 tall much befriend you. Time shall give increase ; 
 nd all your numerous progeny, well train'd, 
 at helpless, in few years shall find their hands, 
 
M THE TASK. 
 
 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 distant poor 
 Need help, denies them nothing but his name. 
 
 But poverty with most, who whimper forth 
 Their long complaints, is self-inflicted wo; 
 The effect of laziness or sottish waste. 
 Now goes the nightly thief prowling abroad 
 For plunder ; much solicitous how best 
 He may compensate for a day of sloth 
 By works of darkness and nocturnal wrong. 
 Wo to the gard'ner's pale, the farmer's hedge, 
 Plash'd neatly, andsecur'd with driven stakes 
 Deep in the loamy bank. Uptom by strength, 
 Resistless in so bad a cause, but lame 
 To better deeds, he bundles up the spoil, 
 An ass's burden, and, when laden most 
 And heaviest, light of foot, steals fast away. 
 NoV does the boarded hovel better guard 
 The wi 11-stack'd pile of riven logs and roots 
 From his pernicious force. Nor will he leave 
 Unwrench'd the door, however well secur'd, 
 Where Chanticleer amidst his haram sleeps 
 In unsuspecting pomp. Twich'dfrom the perch, 
 He gives the princely bird, with all its wives, 
 To his voracious bag, struggling in vain, 
 And loudly wond'ring at the sudden change. 
 Nor this to feed his own. 'Twere some excuse, 
 Did pity of their suff 'rings warp aside 
 His principle, and tempt him into sin 
 For iheir support, so destitute. But they, 
 Neglected, pine at home; themselves, as more 
 Expos'd than others, with less scruple made 
 His victims, robb'd of their defenceless all. 
 Cruel is all he does. 'Tis quenchless thirst 
 Of ruinous ebriety, that prompts 
 His ev'ry action, and imbrutes the man. 
 O for a law to noose the villain's neck 
 Who starves his own ; who persecutes the blood 
 
THE WINTER EVENING. 91 
 
 ive them in his children's veins, and hates 
 ■tongs the woman he has sworn to love ! 
 
 s where we may, through city or through town, 
 
 *e or hamlet, of this merry land, 
 
 gh lean and beggar'd, ev'ry twentieth pace 
 ucts th' unguarded nose to such a whiff 
 tie debauch, forth-issuing from the sties 
 
 Law has licens'd, as makes Temp'rance reel, 
 e sit, involved and lost in curling clouds 
 idian fume, and guzzling deep, the boor, <$| 
 
 lackey, and the groom : the craftsman there 
 ;s a Ltfthean leave of all his toil ; 
 h, cobbler, joiner, he that plies the shears, 
 he that kneads the dough ; all loud alike, 
 
 arned, and all drunk ! the fiddle screams , 
 
 iti e ! ;>iteous, as it wept and wail'd 
 v unheard : 
 
 L'ii:.: ..Ut. 
 
 smiles . . g,.tea with the eternal poise. 
 ! is the frequent curse, and its twin somid, 
 
 cheek disti nding oath, not to be prais'd 
 irnamental, musical, polite, 
 e those which modern senators employ, 
 use oath is rhet'ric, and who swear for fame ! 
 old the schools, in which plebeiltn minds, 
 
 imple, are initiated in arts 
 ich some may practise with politer grace, 
 ;none with readier skill!— 'lis here they learn 
 
 road that leaJs from competence and peace 
 indigence and rapine ; till at last 
 iety, grown weary of the load, 
 kes her encumber'd lap, and easts them out, 
 : ftn.'.io profits little: vain th' attempt 
 
 e in vs;rcp a public pest, 
 at, like the tilth with which ih^ pooKsu.t feeds 
 hungry acres, stinks, and is of use. 
 
62 THE TASK. 
 
 Th' excise is fatten'd with the rich result 
 Of all this riot ; and ten thousand casks, 
 Forever dribbling out their base contents, 
 Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state, 
 Bleed gold for ministers to sport away. 
 Drink, and be mad then ; 'tis your country bids! 
 Gloriously drunk, obey th' important call ! 
 Her cause demands th' assistance of your throats 
 Ye all can swallow, and she asks no more. 
 
 Would I had fall'n 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 heart 
 That felt their virtues: Innocence, it seems, 
 From courts dismiss'd, found shelter in the grove* 
 The footsteps of simplicity, impress'd 
 ~ T pon the yielding herbage, (so they sing,) 
 Then v/..i ,i<)t aii u - ' J ■ the.-. sn<_. . . jiaiie, 
 And manners profligate, were rarely found, 
 Observ'd as prodigies, and soon reclaim'd. 
 Vain wish ! those days were never: airy drear.s 
 Sat "for the picture: and the poet's hand, 
 Imparting substance te an empty shade, 
 Impos'd a gay delirium for a truth. 
 Grant it: I still must envy them an age 
 That favour'd such a dream : in days like these 
 Impossible when Virtue : s so scarce, 
 That to suppose a scene where she presides 
 In transmontane, and stumbles all belief. 
 No: we are polish 'd 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 shepherdess of old romance, 
 Is seen no more. The character is lost ! 
 Her head, adorn'd with lappets pinn'd aloft. _J 
 And ribands streaming gay, supiihJy rais'd. 
 Anil magnified beyond all human size, 
 
THE WINTER EVENING. W 
 
 ■bted to some smart wig-weaver's hand 
 more than half the tresses it sustains : 
 elbows ruffled, and her tott'ring form 
 ropp'd upon French heels; she might be deem'd 
 that the basket dangling on her arm 
 rprets her more truly) of a rank 
 proud for dairy work, or sale of eggs.— 
 ect her soon with footboy at her heels, 
 onger blushing for her awkward load, 
 train and her umbrella all her care I 
 
 he town has ting'd the country ; and the stain 
 ears a spot upon a vestal's robe, 
 worse for what it soils. The fashion runs 
 n into scenes still rural; but, alas, 
 les rarely grac'd with rural manners now ! 
 e was when in the pastoral retreat 
 unguarded door was safe ; men did not watch 
 nvade another's right, or guard their own. 
 a sleep was undisturb'd by fear, unscar'd 
 'runken bowlings; and the chilling tale 
 lidnight murder was a wonder heard 
 1 doubtful credit, told to frighten babes, 
 farewell now to unsuspicious nights, 
 slumbers unalarm'd! Now, ei*e you sleep, 
 that your polish'd arms be prim'd with care, 
 drop the night-bolt ;— ruffians are abroad ; 
 the first larum of the cock's shrill throat 
 prove a trumpet, summoning your ear 
 torrid sounds of hostile feet within, 
 daylight has its dangers; and the walk 
 High pathless wastes and woods, unconscious onct 
 ther tenants than melodious birds, 
 armless flocks, is hazardous and bold, 
 ented change ! to which full many a cause 
 t'rate, hopeless of a cure, conspires. 
 course of human things from good to ill, 
 a ill to worse, is fatal, never fails, 
 ease of pow'r begets increase of wealth ; 
 1th luxury, and luxury excess; 
 
04 THE TASK. 
 
 Excess, the scrofulous and itchy plague, 
 
 That seizes first the opulent, descends 
 
 To the next rank contagious, and in time 
 
 Taints downward all the graduated scale 
 
 Of order, from the chariot to the plough. 
 
 The rich, and they that have an arm to check 
 
 The license of the lowest in degree. 
 
 Desert their office; and themselves, intent 
 
 On pleasure, haunt the capital, and thus 
 
 To ail the violence of lawless hands 
 
 Resign the scenes their presence might protect \ 
 
 Authority herself not seldom sleeps, 
 
 Though ft sident, and witness of the wrong. 
 
 The plump convivial parson often hears 
 
 The magisterial sword in vain, a*d lays 
 
 His re' Yi nee and his worship both to rest 
 
 On the game cushion of habitual sloth 
 
 Perhap timidity restrains his arm; 
 
 Wh 11 he should strike he tr< mbles, and, sets fn 
 
 If enslav'd by tenor of the band— 
 Th' audacious convict whom he dares not bind. 
 Perhaps, though by profession ghostly pure. 
 He, too, may have his vice, and sometimes prov< 
 Less dainty than becomes his grave outside 
 In iticrativt concerns. Examine well 
 His milk-white hand; the palm is hardly clean-^ 
 But here and there an ugly smutch appears. 
 Foh ! 'twas a bribe that left it : he has touch'd 
 Corruption. Whoso seeks an audit here 
 Propitious, pays his tribute, game or fish, 
 Wildfowl or ven'son : and his errand speeds. 
 
 But faster far, and more than all the rest. 
 A noble cause, which none, who bears a spavk 
 Of public virtue, ever v.ish'd rcmov'd, 
 Works the deplor'd and mischievous effect,, 
 'Tis universal soldiership has stabb'd 
 The heart of merit in the m Miner class. 
 Arms, through the vanity and brainless rage 
 Of those that bear them, in wh 
 
THE WINTER EVENING. 
 
 nost at variance with all moral good, 
 compatible with serious thought, 
 awn, the child of nature, without guile, 
 ith an infant's ignorance of all 
 own simple pleasures; now and then 
 tling match, a foot-race, or a fair ; 
 )ted, and trembles at the news : 
 sh he doffs his hat, and mumbling swears 
 - oath to be whate'er they please, 
 he knows not what. The task perform 'd, 
 nstant he becomes the sergeant's care, 
 pil, and his torment, and his jest, 
 kward gait, his introverted toes, 
 nees, round shoulders, and dejected looks, 
 :e him many a curse. By slow degrees, 
 to learn, and form'd of stubborn stuff, 
 by slow degrees puts off himself, 
 3 conscious of a change, and likes it well: 
 inds erect ; his slouch becomes a walk ; 
 ps right onward, martial in his air, 
 rm and movement ; is as smart above 
 al and larded locks can make him ; wear* 
 it, or his plum'd helmet, with a grace ; 
 lis three years of heroship expir'd, 
 ns indignant to the slighted ploughs 
 ttesthe field, in which no fife or drum 
 ds him ; drives his cattle to a mai eh ; 
 sighs for the smart comrades he has left, 
 re well if his exterior change were all — - 
 vith his clumsy port the wretch has lost 
 gnorance and harmless manners too. 
 wear, to game, to drink; to show at home 
 ■wdntss, idleness, and sabbath breach, 
 gp-at proficiency he made abroad ; 
 tonisfa and to grieve his yaziiig friends ; 
 reak some maiden's and his mother's heart j 
 e a pest where he was useful once ; 
 tjis sole aim, and all his glory, now. 
 
 in in society is like a flow'r 
 
 a in its native bed; 'tis there alone 
 
95 THE TASK. 
 
 His faculties, expanded in full bloom, 
 Shine out ; there only reach their proper use, 
 But man, associated and leaguM with man 
 By regal warrant or self-join'd by bond 
 For int'rest sake, or swarming into clans 
 Beneath one head for purposes of war, 
 Like flow'rs selected from the rest, and bound 
 And bundled close to fill some crowded vase, 
 Fades rapidly, and, by compression marr'd, 
 Contracts defilement not to be endur'd. 
 Hence charter'd boroughs are such public plagiK 
 And burghers, men immaculate perhaps 
 In all their private functions, once combin'd, 
 Become a loathsome body, only fit 
 For dissolution, hurtful to the main. 
 Hence merchants, unimpeachable of sin 
 Against the charities of domestic life, 
 Incorporated, seem at once to lose 
 Their nature ; and, disclaiming all regard 
 For mercy and the common rights of man, 
 Build factories with blood, conducting trade 
 At the sword's point, and dying the white robe 
 Of innocent commercial Justice red. 
 Hence, too, the field of glory, as the world 
 Misdeems it, dazzled by its bright array, 
 With all it? majesty of thund'ring pomp, 
 Enchanting music, and immortal wreaths, 
 Is but a school, where thoughtlessness is taught 
 On principle, where foppery atones 
 For folly, gallantry for ev'ry vice. 
 
 But slighted as it is, and by the great 
 Abandon'd, and, which still I more regret, 
 Infected with the manners and the modes 
 It knew not once, the country wins me still. 
 i never fram'd a wish, or form'd a plan, 
 That flatter 'd me with hopes of earthly bliss, 
 But there 1 laid the scene. There early stray \1 
 My fancy, ere yet liberty of choice 
 Had found me, or the hope of being free. 
 
THE WINTER EVENING. 
 
 f very dreams were rural ; rural too 
 tie first-born efforts of ray youthful muse, 
 ortive and jingling her poetic bulls, 
 eyet her ear was mistress of their pow'rs. 
 » bard could please me but whose lyre was tun'd 
 > Nature's praises. Heroes and their feats 
 tigu'd me, never weary of the pipe 
 ^Tityrus, assembling, as he sang, 
 ie rustic throng beneath his fav'rite beech, 
 en Milton had indeed a poet's charms : 
 w to my taste, his Paradise smpass'd 
 e struggling efforts of my boyish tongue 
 I speak its excellence. I danc'd for joy. 
 jtarvell'd much that, at so ripe an age 
 ■twice seven years, his beauties had then first 
 feag'd my wonder; and admiring still, 
 1 still admiring, with regret suppos'd 
 joy half lost, because not sooner found, 
 re, too, enamoui'd of the life I lov'd, 
 iietic in its praise, in its pursuit 
 trmiifcd, and possessing it at last, 
 h transports such asfavoiu'd lovers feel, 
 idied, priz'd, and wish'd that I had known, 
 nious Cowley! and, though now reclaim'd _ 
 nodern lights from an erioneous taste, I 
 
 nnot but lament thy splendid wit 
 ingled in the cobwebs of the schools. 
 1 revere thee, courtly though retii'd; 
 ugh stretch'd at ease in Chertsey's silent bow*, 
 jnemploy'd ; and finding rich amends 
 i lost world in solitude and verse. 
 born with all : the love of Nature'.? works 
 ingredient in the compound man, 
 'd at the creation of the kind, 
 though th* Almighty Maker has throughout 
 iminated each from each, by strokes 
 ouches of his hand, with so much art 
 sifted, that two were never found 
 s at all points— yet this obtains in all, 
 all discern a beauty in his worksj 
 LII E * 
 
Ft THE TASK. 
 
 And all can taste them : minds that have been formjf 
 
 And tutor'd with a relish more exact, 
 
 But none without some relish, none unmov'd. 
 
 It is a flame that dies not even there, 
 
 Where nothing feeds it : neither business, crowds. : 
 
 Nor habits of luxurious city life, 
 
 Whatever else they smother of true worth 
 
 In human bosoms, quench it or abate. 
 
 The villas, with which London stands begirt, 
 
 Like a swarth Indian with his belt of beads 
 
 Prove it. A breath of unadult'rate air, 
 
 The glimpse of a green pasture, how they cheer 
 
 The citizen, and brace his languid frame! 
 
 E'en in the stifling bo3om of the town 
 
 \ garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms 
 
 That sooth the rich possessor ; much consol'd, 
 
 That here and there some sprigs of mournful miafaL 
 
 Of nightshade, or valerian, grace the wall 
 
 He cultivates. These serve liim with a hint 
 
 That Nature lives ; that sight-refreshing green 
 
 Is still the liv'ry she delights to wear, 
 
 'though sickly samples of th' exub'rant whole. 
 
 What are the casements lin'd with creeping herbs, 
 
 The prouder sashes fronted with a range 
 
 Of orange, myrtle, or the fragrant weed, 
 
 The Frenchman's darling?* are they not all proofs. 
 
 That man, immur'd in cities, still retains 
 
 His inborn inextinguishable thirst 
 
 Of 1 ural scenes, compensating his loss 
 
 By supplemental shifts, the best he may ? 
 
 The most unfurnished with the means of life, 
 
 And they that never pass their brick-wall bounds 
 
 To range the fields, and treat their lungs with air, 
 
 Yet feel the burning instinct : over head 
 
 Suspend their crazy boxes planted thick, 
 
 And water'd duly. There the pitcher stands 
 
 A fragment, and the spoutless teapot there ; 
 
 Sad witnesses how close-pent man regrets 
 
 * Mignonnette. 
 
 : 
 
THE WINTER EVENING. 
 
 •flic country, with what ardour he contrives 
 A peep at Nature, when he can no more. 
 
 Hail, therefore, patroness of health and ease, 
 And Contemplation, heart-consoling joys, 
 And harmless pleasures in the throng'd abode 
 Of multitudes unknown ! hail, rural life ! 
 Address himself who will to the pursuit 
 &f honours, or emoluments, or fame ; 
 [ shall not add myself to such a chase, 
 Thwart his attempts, or envy his success. 
 Some must be great. Great offices will have 
 Sreat talents. And God gives to ev'ry man 
 rhe virtue, temper, understanding, taste, 
 That lifts jiim into life, and lets him fall 
 iust in the niche he was ordain'd to fill. 
 To the deliv'rer of an injur'd land 
 le gives a tongue t' enlarge upon, a heart 
 To feel, and courage to redress, her wrongs ; 
 To monarchs dignity ; to judges sense ; 
 To artists ingenuity and skill ; 
 To me. an unambitious mind, content 
 n the low vale of life, that early felt 
 i wish for ease and kisure, and ere long 
 'ound here that leisure and that ease 3 wiihV, 
 
THE TASK, 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
ARGUMENT OF THE FIFTH BOOK, 
 
 A frosty morning....The foddering of eattle....Th«) 
 woodman and his dog«..The poiiltry..«.Whimsical 
 effects of frost at a waterlall....The empress of Rus- 
 sia's palace of ice.... Amusements of monarchs 
 War, one of them.... Wars, whence....And whence 
 monarchy....The evils of it....English and French 
 loyalty contrasted..*.The Bastile, and a prisoner 
 then.. ...Liberty the chief recommendation of this 
 
 country Modern patriotism questionable, and 
 
 why;...Tke perishable nature of the best human in-i 
 stitulions....Spiritual liberty not perishable....The 
 slavish state of man by nature....Deliver him, Deist, 
 if you can,...Grace must do it.».The respective 
 merits of patriots and martyrs stated—.Their dif-t 
 
 ferent treatment Happy freedom of the man 
 
 whom grace makes free....His relish of the works 
 of God..»Address to the Creator. 
 
THE TASK. 
 
 BOOK V. 
 
 THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 
 
 'TIS morning ; and the sun, with ruddy orb 
 Ascending, fires th' horizon ; while the cloud* 
 That crowd away before the driving wind. 
 More ardent as the disk emerges more, 
 Resemble most some city in a blaze, 
 Seen through the leafless wood. His slanting r»» 
 Slides ineffectual down the snowy vale, 
 And tinging all with his own rosy hue, 
 From ev'ry herb and ev'ry spiry blade 
 Stretches a length of shadow o'er the field. 
 Mine spindling into longitude immense. 
 In spite of gravity, and sage remark 
 That I myself am but a fleeting shade, 
 Provokes me to a smile. With eye askance, 
 I view the muscular proportion'd limb 
 Transform'd to a lean shank. The shapeless pair, 
 As they design'd to mock me, at my side 
 Take step for step; and, as I near approach 
 The cottage, walk along the plaster'd wall, 
 
 •'rous sight ! the legs without the man. 
 
104 THE TASK. 
 
 The verdure of the plain lies buried deep 
 Beneath the dazzling deluge; and the bents, 
 And coarser grass, upspearing o'er the rest 
 Of late unsightly and unseen, now shine 
 Conspicuous, and in bright apparel clad, 
 And, fledg'd with icy feathers, nod superb. 
 The cattle mourn in corners, where the fence 
 Screens them, and seem half petrified to sleep 
 In unrecumbent sadness. There they wait 
 Their wonted fodder ; not like hung'ring man, 
 Fretful if unsuppSied ; but silent, meek, 
 And patient of the slow-pac'd swain's delay. 
 He from the stack carves out the accustom 'd load, 
 Deep-plunging, and again deep-plunging oft, 
 His broad keen knife into the solid mass ; 
 Smooth as a wall the upright remnant stands, 
 With such undeviatiiig and even force 
 He severs it away ; no needless care, 
 Lest storms should overset the leaning pile 
 Deciduous, or its own unbalanc'd weight. 
 Forth goes the woodman, leaving unconcern'd 
 The cheerful haunts of man ; to wield the axe, 
 And drive the wedge, in yonder forest drear, 
 From morn to eve his solitary task. 
 Shaggy, and lean, and shrewd, with pointed ears, 
 And tail cropp'd short, half lurcher and half cur — 
 His dog attends him. Close behind his heel 
 Now creeps he slow ; and now, with many a frisk 
 Wide-scamp'ring, snatches up the drifted snow 
 With iv'ry teeth, or ploughs it with his snout ; 
 Then shakes his powder'd coat, and barks for joy. 
 Heedless of all his pranks, the sturdy churl . 
 Moves right toward the mark ; nor stops for aught, 
 Out now and then with pressure of his thumb 
 T' adjust the fragrant charge of a short tube, 
 That fumes beneath his nose: the trailing cloud 
 Streams far behind him, scenting all the air. 
 Now from the .roost, or from the neighb'ring pale, 
 Where diligent to eaten the first faint gleam 
 Of smiling day, they gossip'd side by side. 
 
THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 105 
 
 Come trooping at the housewife's well-known call 
 ■"he feather 'd tribes domestic. Half on wing, 
 And half oji foot, they brush the fleecy flood, 
 Conscious and fearful of too deep a plunge 
 The sparrows peep, and quit the shelt'ring eaves, 
 To seize the fail' occasion ; well they eye 
 The scatter'd grain, and thievishly resolv'd 
 T' escape th' impending famine, often scar'd 
 As oft return— a peit voracious kind. 
 Clean riddance quickly made, one only care 
 Remains to each, the search of sunny nook, 
 Or shed impervious to the blast. Resign'd 
 To sad necessity, the cock forgoes 
 His wonted strut ; and, wading at their head 
 With well-consider'd steps, seems to resent 
 Hisalter'd gait and stateliness retrench 'd. 
 How finds the myriads, that in summer cheer 
 The hills and valleys with their ceaseless songs, 
 Due sustenance, or where subsist they now ? 
 Earth yields them naught ; th' imprison'd worm is safe 
 Beneath the frozen clod ; all seeds of herbs 
 Lie eover'd close; and berry-bearing thorns, 
 That feed the thrush, (whatever some suppose,) 
 Afford the smaller minstrels no Supply, 
 The long-protracted rigour of the year 
 Thins all their num'rous flocks. In chinks and hotes 
 Ten thousand seek an unmolested end, 
 As instinct prompts; self-buried ere th j y die. 
 The very rooks and daws forsake the fields, 
 Where neither grub, nor root, nor earth nut, now 
 Repays their labour more; and pereh'd aloft 
 By the way-side, or stalking in the path, 
 Lean pensioners upon the travller's track, 
 Pick up their nauseous dole, thougS) Sweet to tfcenr, 
 Of voided pulse or hal ('-digested gram. 
 The streams crv lost amid the splendid blank, 
 O'erwhi Iming all distinction. On the Hood, 
 Indurated and fi.vd, the snowy weight 
 Lies undissolv'd ; while silently beneath, 
 *And wnperoeiv'd, the current steals away. 
 E2 
 
LOa THE TASK. 
 
 Not so where, scornful of a cheek, it leapi 
 
 The mill-dam, dashes on the restless wheel, 
 
 And wantons in the pebbly gulf below : 
 
 No frost can bind it there : its utmost force 
 
 Can but arrest the light and smoky mist, 
 
 That in its fall the liquid sheet throws wide. 
 
 And see where it has hung th' embroider'd banks 
 
 With forms so various, that no pow'rs of art. 
 
 The pencil, or the pen, may trace the scene ! 
 
 Here glitt'ring turrets rise upbearing high, 
 
 ( Fantastic ^disarrangement !) on the roof 
 
 Large growth of what may seem the sparkling trees 
 
 And shrubs of fairy land. The crystal drops 
 
 That trickle down the branches, fast congeal'd, 
 
 Shoot into pillars of pellucid length, 
 
 And prop the pile they but adorn 'd before. 
 
 Here grotto within grotto safe defies 
 
 The sunbeam ; there, emboss'd and fretted wild, 
 
 The growing wonder takes a thousand shapes 
 
 Capricious, in which fancy seeks in vain 
 
 The likeness of some objects seen before. 
 
 Thus Nature works as if to mock at Art, 
 
 And in defiance of her rival pow'rs; 
 
 By these fortuitous and random strokes 
 
 Performing such inimitable feats, 
 
 As she with all her rules can never reach. 
 
 Less worthy of applause, though more admir'd, 
 
 Because a novelty, the work of man, 
 
 Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ, 
 
 Thy most magnificent and mighty freak, 
 
 The wonder of the North. No forest fell 
 
 When thou wouldst build : no quarry sent its stores 
 
 T' enrich thy walls : but thou didst hew the floods, 
 
 And make thy marble of the glassy wave. 
 
 In such a palace Aristaeus found 
 
 Cyrene, whei: he bore the plaintive tale 
 
 Of his lost bees to her maternal ear : 
 
 In such a palace poetry might place 
 
 The armory of Winter ; where his troops, 
 
 The gloomy Clouds, find weapons, arrowy sleet, 
 
THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 107 
 
 Skin-piercing volley, blossom-bruising hail, 
 And snow, that„often blinds the traveler's course, 
 And wraps him in an unexpected tomb. 
 Silently as a dream the fabric rose ; 
 No sound of hammer or of saw was there : 
 Tee upon ice, the well-ad j usted parts 
 Were soon conjoin'd, nor other cement ask'd 
 Than water interfus'd, to make them one. 
 Lamps gracefully dispos'd, and of all hues, 
 Illumin , d ev'ry side: a wat'ry light 
 Gleam'd through the clear transparency, that seem'd 
 Another moon new ris'n, or meteor fall'n 
 From lleav'n to Earth, of lambent flame serene. 
 So stood the brittle prodigy; though smooth 
 And slipp'ry the materials, yet frost-bound 
 Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within 
 That voyal residence might well befit 
 For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths 
 Of flow'rs that fear'd no enemy but warmth, 
 Blush'd on the pannels. Minor needed none 
 Where all was vitreous ; but in order due 
 Convivial table and commodious seat 
 (What seem'd at least commodious seat) were there; 
 Sofa and couch, and high-built throne august. 
 That same lubricity was found in all, 
 And all was moist to the warm touch ; a scene 
 Of evanescent glory, once a stream, 
 And soon to slide into a stream again. 
 Alas ! 'twas but a mortifying stroke 
 Of undesign'd severity, thatglanc'd, 
 (Made by a monarch,) on her own estate, 
 On human grandeur and the courts of kings. 
 'Twas transient in its nature, as in show 
 'Twas durable; as worthless, as it seem'd 
 Intrinsically precious; to the foot 
 lYeach'rous and false; it smil'd, and it was cold. 
 
 Great princes have great play-things. Some have 
 plaj \1 
 At hewing mountains into men, and some 
 
10« THE TASK. 
 
 At building human wonders mountain-high. 
 Some have amus'd the dull, sad years of life, 
 (Life spent in indolence, and therefore sad,) 
 With schemes of monumental fame; and sought 
 By pyramids and mausolean pomp, 
 Short liv'd themselves, t' immortalize their bones. 
 Some seek diversion in the tented field, 
 And make the sorrows of mankind their sport. 
 But war's a game, which, were their subjects wise, 
 Kings would not play at. Nations would do well, 
 T' extort their truncheons from the puny hands 
 Of heroes, whose infirm and baby minds 
 Are gratified with mischief; and who spoil, 
 Because men suffer it, their toy, the World. 
 
 When Babel was confounded, and the great 
 Confed'racy of projectors wild and vain 
 Was split into diversity of tongue's, 
 Then, as a shepherd separates his flock, 
 These to the upland, to the valley! hose, 
 Ood drave asunder, and assign'd their lot 
 To all the nations. Ample was the boon 
 He gave them, in its distribution fair 
 And equal; and he bade them dwell in peace. 
 Peace was awhile their care ; they plough'd and sow'd. 
 And reap'd their plenty without grudge or strife. 
 But violence can never longer sleep 
 Than human passions please. In ev'ry heart 
 Are sown the sparks that kindle fiery war ; 
 Occasion needs but fan them, and they blaze. 
 Cain had already shed a brother's blood : 
 The deluge wash'd it out ; but left unqucnchM 
 The seeds of murder in the breast of man. 
 Soon by a righteous judgment in the line 
 Of his descending progeny was found 
 The iirst artificei of death ; the shrewd 
 Contriver, who first sweated at the forge. 
 And forc'd the blunt and yet unbloodied steel 
 To a keen edge, and made it bright for war. 
 Him, Tubal nam'd, the Vulcan of old times, 
 
THE WIHTEft. MORNING WALK. 103 
 
 The sword and falchion theiv inventor claim ; 
 
 And the first smith was the first mord'rer's son. 
 
 His art survivVl the waters ; and ere long, 
 
 "When man was multiplied and spread ahroad 
 
 In tribes and clans, and had begun to call 
 
 These meadows and that range of hills his own. 
 
 The tasted sweets of property begat 
 
 jaesire of more, and industry in some, 
 
 '1" improve and cultivate their just demesne, 
 
 Made others covet what they saw so fair. 
 
 Thus war began on Earth : these fought for spoil, 
 
 And those in self defence. Savage at first 
 
 The onset, and irregular. At length 
 
 One eminent above the rest for strength, 
 
 for stratagem, or courage, or for all, 
 
 Was chosen leader ; him tbt-y serv'd in war, 
 
 And him i:-i peace, for sake of warlike deeds 
 
 Rev'renc*d no less. Who could with him compare- 
 
 Or who so worthy to control themselves, 
 
 As he, whose prowess had subdu'd their foes ? 
 
 Thus war, affording field for the display 
 
 Of virtue, made one chief, whom times of peace, 
 
 Which have their exigencies too, and call 
 
 For skill in government, at length made king. 
 
 King was a name too proud for man to wear 
 
 With modesty and meekness ; and the crown, 
 
 Bo dazzling in their eyes, who set it on. 
 
 Was sure t' intoxicate the brows it bound. 
 
 It is the abject property of most, 
 
 That, being parcel of the common mass, 
 
 And destitute of means to raise themselves, 
 
 They sink, and settle lower than they need. 
 
 They know not what it is to feel within, 
 
 A comprehensive faculty, that grasps 
 
 Great purposes with ease, that turns and wield*. 
 
 Almost without an effort, plans too vast 
 
 For tin ir conception, which they cannot move. 
 
 Conscious of impotence they soon grow drunk 
 
 With gazing, when they see an able malT^ 
 
 Step forth to notice; and, besetted thus, 
 
110 THE TASK. 
 
 Build him a pedestal, and say, " Stand the**?, 
 
 *' And be ouv admiration and our praise." 
 
 They roll themselves before him in the dust, 
 
 Then most deserving in their own account 
 
 "When most extravagant in his applause, 
 
 As if, exalting him, they rais'd themselves. 
 
 Thus by degrees, self-cheated of their sound 
 
 And sober judgment, that he is but man, 
 
 They demi-deify and fume him so, 
 
 That in due season he forgets it too. 
 
 Inflated and astrut with self conceit, 
 
 He gulps the windy diet ; and ere long, 
 
 Adopting their mistake, profoundly thinks 
 
 The World was made in vain, if not for him. 
 
 Thenceforth they are his cattle ; drudges, born 
 
 To bear his burdens, drawing in his gears, 
 
 And sweating in his service, his caprice 
 
 Becomes the soul that animates them all. 
 
 He deems a thousand, or ten thousand lives, 
 
 Spent in the purchase of renown for him, 
 
 An easy reck'ning : and they think the same. 
 
 Thus kings were first invented, and thus kings 
 
 Were burnish'd into heroes, and became 
 
 The arbiters of this terraqueous swamp ; 
 
 Storks among frogs, that have but croak'd and died. 
 
 Strange, that such folly, as lifts bloated man 
 
 To eminence, fit only for a god, 
 
 Should ever drivel out of human lips, 
 
 E'en in the cradled weakness of the World J 
 
 Still stranger much, that when at length mankind 
 
 Had reaeh'd the sinewy firmness of their youth, 
 
 And could discriminate and argue well 
 
 On subjects more mysterious, they were yet 
 
 Babes in the cause of freedom, and should fear 
 
 And quake before the gods themselves had made . 
 
 But above measure strange, that neither proof 
 
 Of sad experience, nor examples set 
 
 By some whose patriot virtue has prevail'd, 
 
 Can even now, when they are grown mature 
 
 In wisdom, and with philosophic daeds 
 
THE WINTER MORNING WALK. U I 
 
 Familiar, serve t' emancipate the rest ! 
 
 3uch dupes are men to custom, and so prone 
 
 To rev'rence what is ancient, and can plead 
 
 A course of long observance for its use, 
 
 rhat even servitude, the worst of'ills, 
 
 Because deliver 'd down from sire to son, 
 
 Is kept and guarded as a sacred thing. 
 
 But is it fit, or can it bear the shock 
 
 Of rational discussion, that a man, 
 
 Compounded and made up like other men 
 
 (If elements tumultuous, in whom lust 
 
 And folly in as ample measure meet 
 
 As in the bosoms of the slaves he rules, 
 
 Should be a despot absolute, and boast 
 
 Himself the only freeman of his land ? 
 
 Should, when he pleases, and on whom he wiU> 
 
 Wage war, with any or with no pretence 
 
 Of provocation giv'n, or wrong sustam'd, 
 
 And force the beggarly last doit by means 
 
 That his own humour dictates, from the clutch 
 
 Of Poverty, that thus he may procure 
 
 His thousands, weary of penurious life, 
 
 A splendid opportunity to die ? 
 
 Say ye, who (with less prudence than, of old, 
 
 Jotliam ascrib'd to his assembled trees 
 
 In politic convention) put your trust 
 
 I' th' shadow of a bramble, and,reclin'd 
 
 In fancied peace beneath his dang'rous branch, 
 
 Rejoice in him, and celebrate his sway, 
 
 Where find ye passive fortitude ? Whence spring* 
 
 Vour self-denying zeal, that holds it good 
 
 To stroke the prickly grievance, and to hang 
 
 His thorns with streamers of continual praise? 
 
 We too are friends to loyalty : We love 
 
 The king who loves the law, respects his bound*, 
 
 And reigns content within them : him we serve 
 
 freely and wjth delight, who leaves us free: 
 
 But re collecting still that he is man, 
 
 We trust him not too far. King though he be, 
 
 And king in England too, he may be weak 
 
US THE TASK. 
 
 And vain enough to be ambitious stili , 
 May exercise amiss his proper pow'rs, 
 Or covet more than freemen choose to grain . 
 Beyond that mark is treason. He is our's, 
 T' administer, to guard, t' adorn, the state, 
 But not to warp or change it. We are his, 
 To serve him nobly in the common cause, 
 True to the death ; but not to be his slaves. 
 Mark now the difference, ye that boast your love 
 Of kings, between your loyalty and our's. 
 We love the man ; the paltry pageant, you : 
 We the chief patron of the commonwealth; 
 You, the regardless author, of its woes : 
 We, for the sake of liberty, a king ; 
 You, chains and bondage for a tyrant's sake: 
 Our love is principle, and has its root 
 In reason; is judicious, manly, free; 
 Yours, a blind instinct, crouches to the rod} 
 And licks the foot that treads it in the dust. 
 Were kingship as true treasure as it seems, 
 Sterling, and worthy of a wise man's wish, 
 I would not be a king to bebelov'd 
 Causeless, and daub'd with undiscerning praise, 
 Where love is mere attachment to the throne, 
 Not to the man who fills it as he ought. 
 
 Whose freedom is by su ft' 'ranee,. and. at will 
 Of a superior, he is -never free. 
 Who lives, and is not weary of a life 
 Expos'd to manacles, deserves them well. 
 The state that strives f<w liberty, though foil'd.,. 
 And fore'd to abandon what she bravely sought,. 
 Deserves at least applause for her attempt, 
 And pity for her loss. But that's a cause 
 Not often unsuccessful: pow'r usurp 'd 
 Is weakness when oppos'd ; conscious of wrong, 
 ^Tis pusillanimous and prone to flight. 
 But slaves, that once conceive the glowing though 
 Of freedom, in that hope itself possess 
 All that the contest calls for; spirit, strength. 
 
THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 113 
 
 Die scorn of danger, and united hearts; 
 He surest presage of the good they seek : * 
 
 Then shame to manhood, and opprobrious more 
 ro France than all her losses and defeats, 
 Md or of later date, by sea or land, 
 Her house of bondage, worse than that of old 
 iVhich God aveng'd on Pharaoh— the Bastile. 
 Ife horrid tow'rs, th' abode of broken hearts : 
 ie dungeons and ye cages of despair, 
 rhat-monarchs have supplied from age to age 
 tVhh music, such as suits their sov'reign ears— 
 ["he sighs and groans of miserable men ! 
 rhere's not an English heart that would not leap, 
 Vq hear that ye werefall'n at last; to know 
 fhat e'en our enemies, so oft cmploy'd 
 XI forging chains for us, themselves were free. 
 ?or he who values Liberty, confines 
 fis zeal for her predominance within 
 fo narrow bounds ; her cause engages him 
 Wherever pleaded. 'Tis the cause of man. 
 rhere dwell the most forlorn of human kind, 
 'miuurd though unaccus'd, condemn'd untried, 
 Cruelly spar'd, and hopeless of escape, 
 rhere, like the visionary emblem seen 
 3y him of Babylon, life stands a stump, 
 i.nd, filleted about with hoops of brass, 
 itill lives, though all his pleasant boughs are gone, 
 ro count the hour-bell and expect no change; 
 Vnd ever as the sullen sound is heard, 
 still to reflect, that, though a joyless note 
 ro him whose moments all have one dull pace, 
 ren thousand rovers in the World at large 
 lecount it music ; that it summons some 
 ro theatre, or jocund feast, or ball : 
 
 * The author hopes, that he shall not be censured 'for 
 tnnecessary warmth upon so Interesting a subject. He 
 l aware, that it is become almost fashionable, to stigma- 
 fee such sentiments as no better than empty declamation ; 
 <Ut it is an ill symptom^ and peculiar to modern times. 
 
114 THE TASK. 
 
 The wearied hireling finds it a release 
 From labour ; and the lover, who has chid 
 Its long delay, feels ev'ry welcome stroke 
 Upon his heart-strings, trembling with delight- 
 To fly for refuge from distracting thought 
 To such amusements as ingenious wo 
 Contrives, hard shifting, and without her tools-* 
 To read engraven on the mouldy walls, 
 In stagg'ring types, his predecessor's tale, 
 A sad memorial, and subjoin his own- 
 To turn purveyor to an overgorg'd 
 And bloated spider, till the pamper'd pest 
 Is made familiar, watches his approach, 
 Comes at his call, and serves him for a friend- 
 To wear out time in numb'ring to and fro 
 The studs that thick emboss his iron door ; 
 Then downward and then upward, then aslant; 
 And then alternate; with a sickly hope 
 By dint of change to give his tasteless task 
 Some relish ; till the sum, exactly found 
 In all directions, he begins again— 
 O comfortless existence ! hemm'd around 
 With woes, which who that suffers would not kneel 
 And beg for exile, or the pangs of death ? 
 That man should thus encroach on fellow manj 
 Abridge him of his just and native rights, 
 Eradicate him, tear him from his hold 
 Upon th' endearments of domestic life 
 And social, nip his fruitfulness and use, 
 And doom him for perhaps a heedless word 
 To barrenness, and solitude, and tears, 
 Moves indignation, makes the name of king, 
 (Of king whom such prerogative can please) 
 As dreadful as the Manichean god, 
 Ador'd through fear, strong only to destroy. 
 
 'Tis liberty alone, that gives the flow'r 
 Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume ; 
 And we are weeds without it. All constraint, 
 Except what wisdom lays on evil men, 
 
THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 115 
 
 »evil: hurts the faculties, impedes 
 
 'heir progress in the road of science; blinds 
 
 'he eyesight of Discov'ry ; and begets, 
 
 a those that suffer it,a sordid mind, 
 
 Ustial a meager intellect, unfit 
 
 "o be the tenant of man's noble form. 
 
 'hee therefcre'st.ll, blameworthy as thou art, 
 
 Villi all th j loss of empire, and though squeez'd 
 
 ;> public exigence, till annual food 
 
 ails for the craving hunger of the state, 
 
 'Iiee [account still happy, and the chief 
 
 jnong the nations, seeing thou art free : 
 
 ly native nook of earth ! Thy clime is rude, 
 
 Leplete with vapours, and disposes much 
 
 .11 hearts to sadness, and none more than mine ; 
 
 "hine unadult'rate manners are less soft 
 
 ltd plausible than social life requires, 
 
 ml thou hast need of discipline and art, 
 
 'ogive thee what politer France receives 
 
 roin nature's bounty— that humane address 
 
 .nd sweetness, without which no pleasure is 
 
 11 Converse, either starv'd by cold reserve, 
 
 •i flush "d with fierce dispute, a senseless brawl. 
 
 et, being free, I love thee : for the sake 
 
 •f that one feature can be well content, 
 
 >isgrae\l as thou hast been, poor as thou art, 
 
 ■ seek no sublunary rest beside. 
 
 Hit once enslav'd, farewell ! I could endure 
 
 hains nowhere patiently ; and chains at home, 
 
 Phere I am free by birthright, not at all. 
 
 Then what were left of roughness in the grain 
 
 )f British natures, wanting its excuse 
 
 '. hat it belongs to freemen, would disgust 
 
 .nd shock me. I should then with double pain 
 
 'eel all the rigour of thy fickle clime ; 
 
 .ml, if I must bewail the blessing lost, 
 
 Or which our Hampdens and our Sidneys bled, 
 
 would at least bewail it under skies 
 
 lilder, among a people less austere ; 
 
 n scenes, whieh, having never known roe free. 
 
116 THE TASK. 
 
 Would not reproach me with the loss! felt. 
 
 Do 1 forebode impossible events, 
 
 And tremble at vain dreams ? Heav'n grant I may !jl 
 
 But th' age of virtuous politics is past, 
 
 And we are deep in that of cold pretence. 
 
 Patriots are grown too shrewd to be sincere, 
 
 And we too wise to trust them. He that takes 
 
 Deep in his soft credulity the stamp 
 
 Design'd by loud declaimers on the part 
 
 Of liberty, (themselves the slaves of lust,) 
 
 Incurs derision for his easy faith, 
 
 And lack of knowledge, and with cause enough : 
 
 For when was public virtue to be found, 
 
 Where private was not ? Can he love the whole, 
 
 Who loves no part ? He be a nation's friend, 
 
 Who is in truth the friend of no man there? 
 
 Can he be strenuous in his country's cause, 
 
 Who slights the charities, for whose dear sake 
 
 That country, if at all, must be belov'd ? 
 
 'Tis therefore sober and good men are sad 
 For England's gIory,seeing it wax pale 
 And sickly, while her champions wear their hearts 
 So loose to private duty, that no brain 
 Healthful and undisturb'd by factious fumes, 
 Can dream them trusty to the gen'ral weal. 
 Such were they not of old, whose temper'd blades 
 Dispers'd the shackles of usurp 'd control, 
 And hew'd them link from link ; then Albion's sobs' 
 Were sons indeed ; they felt a filial heart 
 Beat high within them at a mother's wrongs ; 
 And, shining each in his domestic sphere 
 Shone brighter still, once call'd to public view. 
 'Tis therefore many, whose sequester'd lot 
 Forbids their interference, looking on, 
 Anticipate per force some dire event ; 
 And seeing the old castle of the state, 
 That promis'd once more firmness, so assailM, 
 That all its tempest-beaten turrets shake, 
 Stand motionless expectants of its fall. 
 
THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 
 
 has its date below ; the fatal hour 
 'as register'd in Heav'n ere time began, 
 'e turn to dust, and all our mightiest works 
 ie too : the deep foundations that we lay, 
 ime ploughs them up, and not a trace remains, 
 e build with what we deem eternal rock ; 
 distant age asks where the fabric stood ; 
 id in the dust, sifted and search'd in vain, 
 ie undiscoverable seci'et sleeps. 
 
 But there is yet a liberty, unsung 
 r poets, and by senators unprais'd, 
 hich monarchs cannot grant, nor all the pow'rs 
 'Earth and Hell confed'rate take away: 
 liberty, which persecution, fraud, 
 >pression, prisons, have no pow'r to bind; 
 hich whoso tastes can be enslav'd no more, 
 is liberty of heart deriv'd from Heav'n, 
 mght with his blood, who gave it to mankind, 
 id seal 'd with the same token. It is held 
 r charter, and that charter sanction'd sure 
 th' unimpeachable and awful oath 
 id promise of a God. His other gifts 
 1 bear the royal stamp that speaks them hi $, 
 id are august ; but this transcends them all. 
 s other works, the visible display 
 all-creating energy and might, 
 e grand, no doubt, and worthy of the word, 
 lat, finding an interminable space 
 occupied, lias fill'd the void so well, 
 d made so sparkling what was dark before, 
 t these are not his glory. Man, 'tis true, 
 lit with the beauty of so fair a scene, 
 ght well suppose th' artificer divine 
 ant it eternal, had he not himself 
 mounc'd it transient, glorious as it is, 
 d, still designing a more glorious far, 
 om'd it as insufficient for his praise. 
 ;ese therefore are occasional, and pass ; 
 nAl tor the confutation of the fool, 
 
"jfHE TASK. \ 
 
 Whose lying heart disputes agaijist a God ;■ 
 That office serv'd, they must be swept away. 
 Not so the labours of his love: they shine 
 In other heav'ns than these that we behold, 
 And fade not. There is Paradise that feai's 
 No forfeiture, and of its fruits he sends 
 Large prelibation oft to saints below, 
 Of these the first in order, and the pledge, 
 And confident assurance of the rest, 
 Is liberty ; a flight into his arms, 
 Ere yet mortality's fine threads give way 
 A char escape from tyrannizing lust, 
 And full immunity from penal \\o. 
 
 Chains are the portion of revolted man, 
 Stripes, and a dungeon ; and his body serves 
 The triple purpose. In that sickly, foul, 
 Opprobrious residence, he finds them all. 
 Propense his heart to idols, he is held 
 la silly dotage on created things, 
 Careless of their Creator. And that low 
 And sordid gravitation of his pow'rs 
 To a vile clod, so draws him, with such force 
 Resistless from the centre he should setk, 
 That he at last forgets it. All his hopes 
 Tend downward : his ambition is to sink, 
 To reach a depth profounder still, and stilS 
 Profounder, in the fathomless abyss 
 Of folly, plunging in pursuit of death. 
 But ere he gain the comfortless re ; ■ 
 He seeks, and acquiescence of his soul 
 In heav'n-renouncing exile, he endmes— 
 What does he not, from lusts oppos'd in vain, 
 And self-reproaching conscience? He foresees 
 The fatal issue to his health, fame, peace, 
 •fortune, and dignity; the loss of all 
 That can ennoble man, and make frail life, 
 Short as it is, supportable. Still worse. 
 Far worse than all the plagues with which his 
 Infect his happiest moments, he forebodes 
 
THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 119 
 
 ges of hopeless mis'ry. Future death, 
 nd death still future. Not a hasty stroke, 
 ike that which sends him to the dusty grave ; 
 ut unrepealable, enduring, death, 
 sripture is still a trumpet to his fears : 
 fhat none can prove a forgery, may be true : 
 rhat none but bad men wish exploded, must. 
 hat scruple checks him. Riot is not loud 
 or drunk enough, to drown it. In the midst 
 f laughter his compunctions are sincere; 
 nd he abhors the jest by which he shines. 
 emoise begets reform. His master lust 
 ills first before his resolute rebuke, 
 od seems dethron'd and vanquish'd. Peace ensues, 
 at spurious and short liv'd : the puny child 
 P self-congratulating Pride, begot 
 1 fancied Innocence. Again he falls, 
 id fights again ; but finds his best essay 
 presage ominous, portending still 
 i own dishonour by a worse relapse. 
 Nature, unavailing Nature, foil'd 
 oft, and wearied in the vain attempt, 
 ofFs at her own performance. Reason now 
 ikes part with appetite, and pleads the ca 
 veisily, which of late she so condemn'd; 
 ith shallow shifts and old devices, worn 
 id tatter'd in the service of debauch, 
 v'ring his shame from his offended sight. 
 Hath God indeed giv'n appetites to man, 
 find stor'd the Earth so plenteously with means 
 To gratify the hunger of his wish ; 
 ind doth he reprobate, and will he damn 
 riie use of his own bounty ? making first 
 Jo frail a kind, and then enacting laws 
 to strict, that less than perfect must despair ? 
 falsehood I which whoso but suspects of truth, 
 dishonours God, and makes a slave of man. 
 
 IK) they themselves, who undertake for hire 
 ["he teacher's office, and .;dispense at large 
 "heir weekly dole of edifying strains, 
 .ttend to their own music I have they faith 
 
120 THE TASK, 
 
 " In what, with such solemnity of tone 
 
 " And gesture, they propound to our belief? 
 
 " Nay— Conduct hath the loudest tongue. The yo'ic£ 
 
 " Is but an instrument, on which the priest 
 
 " May play what tune lie pleases. In the deed, 
 
 " The unequivocal, authentic deed, 
 
 " We rind sound argument, we read the heart." 
 
 Such reas'nings (if that name must needs belong 
 T* excuses in which reason has no part) 
 Serve to compose a spirit well inclin'd 
 To live on terms of amity with vice, 
 And sin without disturbance. Often urg'd, 
 f As often as libidinous discourse 
 Exhausted, he resorts to solemn themes 
 Of theological and grave import,) 
 They gain at last his unresi rv'd assent; 
 Till, harden'd his heart's temper in the forge 
 Of lust, and on the anvil of despair, 
 He slights the strokes of conscience. Nothing moves | 
 Or nothing much, his constancy in ill ; 
 Vain tamp 'ring has but foster'd his disease; 
 ' Tis desp'rate, and he sleeps the sleep of death. 
 Haste, now, philosopher, and set him free, 
 '.harm the deaf serpent wisely. Make him hear 
 Of rectitude and fitness, moral truth 
 1 low lovely, and the moral sense how sure, 
 Consulted and obey'd, to guide his steps 
 Directly to Xh&.first and only fair, 
 Spare not in such a cause. Spend all the pow'rs 
 Of rant and rhapsody in virtue's praise ; 
 Re most sublimely good, verbosely grand, 
 And with poetic trappings grace thy prose, 
 Till it outmantle all the pride of verse.— 
 Ah, tinkling cymbal. and high sounding brass, 
 Smitten in vain ! such music cannot charm 
 The eclipse, that intercepts truth's heav'nly beam, 
 And chills and darkens a wide wand'ringsoul. 
 The still s?nall voice is wanted. He must speak, 
 Whose word leaps forth at once to its effect ; 
 Who calls tor things that are not, and they come. 
 
THE WINTER MORNING WALK. If i 
 
 Grace makes the slave a freeman. 'Tis a change 
 nat turns to ridicule the turgid speech 
 jid stately tone of moralists, who boast, 
 s if, like him of fabulous renown, 
 "hey had indeed ability to smooth 
 "he snag of savage nature, and were each 
 Orpheus, and omnipotent in song ; 
 t transformation of apostate man 
 rom fool to wise, from earthly to divine, 
 work for Him that made him. He alone 
 Vnd he, by means in philosophic eyes 
 Vivial and worthy of disdain) achieves 
 'h: »vonder ; humanizing what is brute 
 n the lost kind, extracting from the lips 
 »f asps their venom, o'erpow'ring strength 
 y ;» eakness, and hostility by love. 
 
 Patriots have toil'd, and, in their country's cause, 
 ■led nobly ; and their deeds, as they deserve, 
 leceive proud recompense,. We give in charge 
 heir names to the sweet lyre. Th' historic muse, 
 "rood of the treasure, inarches with it down 
 'o latest times ; and Sculpture, in her turn, 
 lives bond in stone and ever-during brass 
 "o guard them, and t' immortalize her trust: 
 tu( fairer wreaths are due, though never paid, 
 
 ho, posted at the shrine of Truth, 
 h>- e fall'n in her defence. A patriot's blood. 
 Vel. ip nt in such a strife, may earn indeed, 
 qad.for a time, ensure to his lov'd land 
 
 he sw( ets of liberty and equal laws; 
 
 ut martyrs struggle for a brighter prize, 
 
 n<l win it with more pain. Their blood is shec 
 n confirmation of the noblest claim— 
 ►ur claim to feed upon immortal truth, 
 
 'o walk with God, to be divinely nee, 
 
 'o soar, and to anticipate the skies. 
 
 et Few remember them. They liv'd unknown, 
 
 ."ill jKisecutiondragg'd them into fame, 
 ind chas'd them up to Heav'n. Their ashes fletr 
 VOL.11 
 
322 THE TASK.-- 
 
 —No marble tells us whither. With their name* 
 No bard embalms and sanctifies his song: 
 And history, so warm on meaner themes, 
 Is cold pn this. She execrates indeed 
 The tyranny that doom'd tliem to the fire, 
 But gives the glorious suff'rers little praise.* 
 
 He is the freeman whom the truth makes free, 
 And all are slaves beside. There's not a chain 
 That hellish foes, confed'rate for his harm, 
 Can wind around him, but he casts it oft" 
 V/ith ss much ease as Saaison his green withes. 
 He looks abroad into the varied field 
 Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compar'd 
 With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, 
 Oalla the delightful scenery all his own. 
 His are the mountains, and the valleys his, 
 And the resplendent rivers. His t* enjoy 
 With a propriety that none can fee?, 
 But who with filial confidence inspir'd; 
 Can lift toHeav'n an unpresumptuous eye, 
 And smiling 9ay— " My Father made them all !' ,; 
 Are they not his by a peculiar right, 
 And by an emphasis of int'rest his, 
 Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, 
 Whose heart with praise, and. whose exalted mind 
 With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love, 
 That plann'd, and built, and still upholds a world 
 So cloth'd with beauty for rebellious man? 
 \ >— ye may fill your garners, ye that reap 
 The loaded soil, ai;d ye may waste much good- 
 Tn senseless riot ; but ye wiil not find 
 In feast or in the chase, in song or dance, 
 A liberty like his, who, unimpeaeh'd 
 Of usurpation, and to no man's wrongs 
 
 . .ates nature as his Father's work, 
 And has a richer use of your 's than you. 
 He is indeed a freeman. Free by birth 
 Of no mean city ; plann'd or ere the 
 
 Hume, 
 
THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 
 
 Were built, the fountains open'd, or the sea, 
 With all his roaring- multitude of waves. 
 3is freedom is the same in ev'ry state ; 
 ind'no condition of this changeful life, 
 to manifold in cares, whose ev'ry day 
 Jrings its own evil with it, makes it less : 
 or he has wings, that neither sickness, pain, 
 Tor penury, can cripple or confine, 
 to nook so narrow, but he spreads them there 
 ftth ease, and is at large. Th' oppressor holds 
 [is body bound ; but knows not what a range 
 is spirit takes, unconscious of a chain ; 
 nd that to bind him is a vain attempt, 
 /hom God delights in, and in whom He dwell:?. 
 
 Acquaint thyself with God, if thou wooJd'st taste 
 
 is works. Admitted once to his embrace, 
 
 hou shalt perceive that thou wast blind before i 
 
 hine eye shall be instructed ; and thine heart, 
 
 ade pure, shall relish with divine delight, 
 
 ill then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought. 
 
 utes graze the mountain-top, with faces prone, 
 
 id eyes intent upon the scanty herb 
 
 fields them ; or, recumbent on its brow. 
 
 iminate heedless of the scene outspread 
 
 neath, beyond, and stretching far away 
 
 Dm inland regions to the distant main. 
 
 in views it, and admires; but rests content 
 
 th what he views. The tai dscaoe has his praise, 
 
 t not its author. Unconcfci n'd ^ho form'd 
 
 Paradise he sees, he finds i( such, 
 d such well pleas'd to rind it, asks no more. 
 \ so the mind that has been touch d from Heav'n, 
 1 ill the school of sacred wisdom taught 
 read His wonders, in whose thought the World. 
 [ a< it is, existed ere it was. 
 for its own sake merely, but for his 
 h more who fashion'd it, he gives it praise ; 
 ise that from Earth resulting, as it ought, 
 earth's acknowledg'd sov 'reign, finds at once 
 uly just proprietor in Him. 
 
124 THE TASK. 
 
 The soul that sees him, or receives sublim'd 
 
 New faculties, or learns at least t' employ 
 
 More worthily the povv'rsshe own'd before, 
 
 Discerns in all things what, with stupid gaze 
 
 Of ignorance, till then she overlook 'd, 
 
 A ray of heav'nly light, gilding all forms 
 
 Terrestrial in the vast and the minute ; 
 
 The unambiguous footsteps of the God, 
 
 Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing, 
 
 And wheels his throne upon the rolling worlds. 
 
 Much conversant with Heav'n, she often holds 
 
 "With those fair ministers of light to man, 
 
 That fill the skies nightly with silent pomp, 
 
 Sweet conference. Inquires what strains were thej 
 
 With which Heav'n rang, when ev'ry star, in haste 
 
 To gratulate the new-created Earth, 
 
 Sent forth a voice, and all the sons of God 
 
 ShoHtet 1 . for joy.— " Tell me, ye shining hosts, 
 
 " That navigate a sea that knows no storms, 
 
 " Beneath a vault unsullied with a cloud, 
 
 " If from your elevation, whence ye view 
 
 " Distinctly scenes invisible to man, 
 
 " And systems, of whose birth no tidings yet 
 
 " Have reach'd this nether world, ye spy a race 
 
 " Favour'd as ours: transgressors from the womb, A] 
 
 " And hasting to a grave, yet doom'd to rise, 
 
 " And to possess a brighter Heav'n than yours? 
 
 " As one, who, lor.gdetain'd on foreign shores, 
 
 " Pants to return, and when he sees afar . fc' 
 
 " His country's weather-bleach'd and batter "d rockij | t| 
 
 " From the green wave emerging, darts an eye 
 
 •• Radiant with joy toward the happy land; 
 
 " So I with animated hopes behold, Jy 
 
 " And many an aching wish, your beamy fires, i ^ 
 
 " That show like beacons in the blue abyss, | - m 
 
 " Ordain'd to guide th' embodied spirit home i ^ 
 
 " From toilsome life to never-ending rest. i ^ 
 
 " Love kindles as I gaze. I feel desires r> 
 
 " That give assurance of their own success, ; ^ 
 
 " And that, infus'd from Heav'n, mustthither tcva ^ 
 
THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 125 
 
 So reads he nature, whom the lamp of truth 
 Illuminates. Thy lamp, mysterious Word! 
 Which whoso sees, no longer wanders lost, 
 With intellects bemaz'd in endless doubt, 
 But inns the road of wisdom. Thou hast built 
 With means that were not, till by thee employ'd, 
 Worlds that had never been, hadst thou in strength 
 Been less, or less benevolent than strong. 
 f hey are thy witnesses, who speak thy powV 
 And goodness infinite, but speak in ears 
 That hear not, or receive not their report. 
 In vain thy creatures testify of thee, 
 Till thou proclaim thyself. Their's is indeed 
 \ teaching voice ; but 'tis the praise of thine, 
 That whom he teaches it makes prompt to leara, 
 Ind with the boon gives talents for its use. 
 Till thou art heard, imaginations vain 
 »ossess the heart, and fables false as hell : 
 let deem'd oracular, lure down to death 
 Hie uninfovm'd and heedless souls of men. 
 Ve give to chance, blind chance, ourselves as blind 
 [Tie glory of thy work; which yet appears 
 'erfecc and unimpeachable of blame, 
 hallenging human scrutiny, and prov'd 
 Tien skilful most when most severely judg'd. 
 lut chance is not; or is not where thou reign'st : 
 Tiy providence forbids that fickle pow'r 
 f pow'r she be, that works but to confound) 
 o mix her wild vagaries with thy laws, 
 et thus we dote, refusing while we can 
 istruction, and inventing to ourselves 
 ods such as guilt makes welcome ; gods that sleep, 
 r disregard our follies, or that sit 
 mus'd spectators of this bustling stage. 
 hee we reject,. unable to abide 
 hy purity, till pure as thou arf pure, 
 adesuch by thee, we love thte for that cause, 
 )r which we shunn'd and hated thee before, 
 hen we are free. Then liberty, like day, 
 eaks on the soul, and by a flash from Htav'n 
 
126 THE TASr 
 
 Fives all the faculties with glorious joy, 
 A voice is heard that mortal ears hear not, 
 Till thou hast touch'd them ; 'tis the voice of song, 
 A loud Hosanna sent from all thy works ; 
 Which he that hears it, with a shout repeats, 
 And adds his rapture to the general praise ! 
 In that blest moment, Nature, throwing wide 
 Her veil opaque, discloses with a smile 
 The author of her beauties, who, vetir'd 
 Behind his own creation, works unseen 
 By the impure, awl hears his povv'r denied : 
 Thou art the source agd centre of all minds, 
 Their only point of .vejs.if, eternal Word ! 
 From thee departing Ihey are lost, and rove 
 At random, without honour, hope, or peace. 
 From thee is all that sooths the life of man : 
 His high endeavour, and his glad success, 
 His strength to suffer, and his will to serve. 
 But O thou bounteous giver of all good, 
 Thou art of all thy gifts thyself the crown ! 
 Give what thou canst, without thee we are poor ; 
 And with thee rich, take what thou wilt away. 
 
THE TASK. 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
ARGUMENT OP THE SIXTH BOOK. 
 
 Bells at a distance.... Their efFect..«A fine noon in 
 winter....A sheltered walk.. ..Meditation better than 
 books..„Our familiarity with the course of nature 
 makes it appear less wonderful than it is....The 
 transformation that Spring effects in a shrubbery, 
 described.... A mistake concerning the course of na- 
 ture corrected.... God maintains it by an unremitted 
 act....The amusements fashionable at this hour of the 
 day reproved....Animals happy, a delightful sight 
 ....Origin of cruelty to animals....That it is a great 
 crime proved from Scripture....That proof illustrated 
 by a tale....A line drawn between the lawful and 
 unlawful destruction of them....Their good and 
 useful properties insisted on....Apology for the 
 encomiums bestowed by the author on animals.... In- 
 stances of man's extravagant praise of man.... The 
 groans of the creation shall have an end....A view 
 taken of the restoration of all things.... An invocation 
 and an invitation of Him who shall bring it to 
 pass....The retired man vindicated from the charge 
 of uselessness....Conclusion. 
 
THE TASK. 
 
 BOOK VI. 
 
 i'HE WINTER WALK AT NOON 
 
 THERE is in souis a sympathy with sounds, 
 And as the mind is pitchM, the car is pleas'd 
 With melting airs or martial, brisk, or grave; 
 Some chord in unison with what we hear 
 Is tQffch'd within us, and the heart replies. 
 How soft the music of those village bells, 
 Falling at intervals upon the ear 
 In cadence sweet, now dying all away, 
 Now pealing loud again, and louder still, 
 Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on I 
 With easy force it opens ail the ceils 
 Where MemVy slept. Wherever I have heard 
 A. kindred melody, the scene recurs, 
 And with, it all its pleasures and its pains. 
 Sueh comprehensive views the spirit takes, 
 That in a few sfefc* moments I retrace 
 As in a map the voyager his course,) 
 The windings of my way through many years, 
 mart as in retrospect the journey seems, 
 It seem'd not always short; the nigged paili 
 F 2 
 
130 THE TASK. 
 
 And prospect oft so dreary and forlorn, 
 
 Mov'd many a sigh at its dislieart'ning length. 
 
 Yet feeling present evils, while the past 
 
 Faintly impress the mind or not at all, 
 
 How readily we wish time spent revok'd, 
 
 That we might try the ground again, where once 
 
 (Through inexperience as we now perceive) 
 
 We miss'd that happiness we might have found ! 
 
 Some friend is gone, perhaps his son's best friend 1 
 
 A father, whose authority, in show 
 
 When most severe, and must'ring all its force, 
 
 Was but the graver countenance of love ; 
 
 Whose favour, like the clouds of* spring, might Iow'r, 
 
 And utter now and then an awful voice, 
 
 But had a blessing in its darkest frown, 
 
 Threat'ning at once and nourishing the plan 4 . 
 
 We lov'd, bnt not enough, the gentle hand 
 
 That rear'd us. At a thoughtless age, allur'd 
 
 By ev'ry gilded folly, we renoune'd 
 
 Plis sheltering ide, and wilfully forewent 
 
 That converse which we now in vain regret. 
 
 How gladly would the man recall to life 
 
 The boy's neglected sire ! a mother too, 
 
 That softer friend perhaps more gladly still, 
 
 flight he demand them at the gates of death. / 
 
 Sorrow has, since they went, subdu'd and tam'd 
 
 The playful humour ; he could now endure, 
 
 { Himself grown sober in the vale of tears.) 
 
 And feel a parent's presence no restraint. 
 
 But not to understand a treasure's worth, 
 
 Till time has stol'h away the slighted good, 
 
 Is cause of half the poverty we feel, 
 
 And makes the Woi Id the wilderness it is. 
 
 The few that pray at all, pray oft amiss, 
 
 And, seeking grace t' improve the prize they hold, 
 
 Would urge a wiser suit than asking more. 
 
 The night was winter in his roughest mood ; 
 The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon 
 Upon the southern side of the slant hills, 
 
THE WINTER WALK AT .NOON. 131 
 
 Ami where the woods ftnce off the northern hlast, 
 
 The season smiles, resigning all its rage, 
 
 Ami has the warmth of May. The vauit is blue 
 
 Without* cloud, and white without a speck 
 
 The dazzling splendour of the scene below. 
 
 Again the harmony comes o'er the vale; 
 
 And through the trees 1 view th' embattled towY, 
 
 Whence all the music. I again perceive 
 
 The soothing influence of the watted strains, 
 
 And settle in soft musings as I tread 
 
 The walk, still verdant, under oaks and eims, 1 
 
 Whose outspread branches overarch the glade. 
 
 The rooffthough moveable through all its length 
 
 As the wind sways it, has yet well sufhVd, 
 
 And. intercepting in their silent fall 
 
 The frequent flakes, has kept a path for me. 
 
 No noise is here, or none that hinders thought. 
 
 The red-breast warbles still, but is content 
 
 With slender notes, and more than half suppress'd : 
 
 Blcas'd with his solitude, and flitting light, 
 
 From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes 
 
 From many a twig the pendent drops of ice, 
 
 That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below. 
 
 Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft, 
 
 Charms more than silence. Meditation here 
 
 May think down hours to moments. Here the heart 
 
 May give a useful lesson to the head, 
 
 And Learning wiser grow without his books. 
 
 Know ledge and Wisdom, far from being one, 
 
 Have ofttimes no connexion. Knowledge dwells 
 
 In heads replete with thoughts of other men ; 
 
 Wisdom, in minds attentive to their own. 
 
 Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mi 
 
 The mere material with which Wisdom builds, 
 
 Till smooth 'd, and squar'd, and fitted to its place, 
 
 Does but encumber whom it seems t' enrich. 
 
 Knowledge is proud that he has leam'd so much j 
 
 Wisdom is humble that he knows no more. 
 
 Books are not seldom talismans and spelK 
 
 By which the magic arts of shrewder wits 
 
X355 THE TASK. 
 
 Holds an unthinking multitude entbralM. 
 
 Some to the fascination of a name, 
 
 Surrender judgment hood-wink'd. Some the style 
 
 Infatuates, and through labyrinths and wilds 
 
 Of error leads them, by a tune entranc'd. 
 
 "While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear 
 
 The insupportable fatigue of thought, 
 
 And swallowing, therefore, without pause or choice 
 
 The total grist unsifted, husks and all. 
 
 But trees and rivulets, whose rapid course 
 
 l>efies the check of winter, haunts of deer, 
 
 And sheep-walks populous with bleating lambs, 
 
 And lanes, in which the primrose ere her time 
 
 Peeps through the moss, that clothes the hawthorn 
 
 root, 
 Deceive no student. Wisdom there, and truth, 
 Not shy, as in the World, and to be won 
 By slow solicitation, seize at once 
 The roving thought, and fix it on themselves. 
 
 "What prodigies can pow'r divine perform 
 More grand than it produces year by year, 
 And all in sight of inattentive man I 
 Familiar with th' effect, we slight the cause, 
 And in the constancy of "Nature's course, 
 The regular return of genial months, 
 And renovation of a faded world, 
 See naught to wonder at. Should God again, 
 As once in Gibeon interrupt the race 
 Of th' undeviattng and punctual sun, 
 How would the world admire ! but speaks it le^s 
 An agency divine, to make him know 
 His moment when to sink and when to rise, 
 Age after age, than to arrest his course I 
 All we behold is miracle; but seen 
 So duly, all is miracle in vain. 
 "Where now the vital energy, that mov'd 
 "While summer was, the pure and subtile Ij 
 Through th' imperceptible meand'iing veil* 
 
THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 
 
 Of leaf and flow'r ? It sleeps ; and th' icy touch 
 
 Of unprolific winter has impress'd 
 
 A cold stagnation on th' intestine tide. 
 
 But let the months go round, a few short month?, 
 
 And all shall be restor'd. These naked shoots, 
 
 Barren as lances, among which the wind 
 
 Makes wintry music, sighing as it goes, 
 
 Shall put their graceful foliage on again, 
 
 And, more aspiring, and with ampler spread. 
 
 Shall boast new charms, and more than they have los 
 
 Then each in its peculiar honours clad, 
 
 Shall publish even to the distant eye 
 
 Its family and tribe. Laburnam, rich 
 
 In streaming gold ; syringa, iv'ry pure; 
 
 The scentless and the scented rose ; this red, 
 
 And of a humbler growth, the other* tall, 
 
 And throwing up into the darkest gloom 
 
 Of neighb'ring cypress, or more sable yew, 
 
 Her silver globes, light as the foamy surf, 
 
 That the wind severs from the broken wave ; 
 
 The lilac, various in array, now white, 
 
 Now sanguine, and her beauteous head now set 
 
 With purple spikes pyramidal, as if 
 
 Studious of ornament, yet unresolv'd 
 
 Which hue she most approv'd, she chose them all ; 
 
 Copious of flow'rs, the woodbine, pale and wan, 
 
 But well compensating her sickly looks 
 
 With never-cloying odours, earl V and late ; 
 
 Hypericum all bloom, so thick a swarm 
 
 Of flow'rs, like Hies clothing her slender rods, 
 
 That scarce a leaf appears ; mezereon, too, 
 
 Though leafless, well attii'd and thick beset 
 
 With blushing wreaths, investing ev'ry spray ; 
 
 Althsea with the purple eye; the broom, 
 
 Yellow and bright, as bullion unailoy'd, 
 
 Her blossoms; and luxuriant above all 
 
 The jasmine, throwing wide her elegant sweets. 
 
 The deep dark green of whose unvarnish 1 1 
 
 * The Guelder row, 
 
•34 THE TASK. 
 
 Makes more conspicuous, and illumines more 
 
 The bright prolusion of her scatterd stars.— 
 
 These have been, anil these shall be in their clay j 
 
 And all this uniform uncolour'd scene 
 
 Shall be dismantled of its fleecy load, 
 
 And flush into variety again. 
 
 From dearth to plenty, and from death to lif- , 
 
 Is nature's progress, when she lectures man 
 
 In heav'nly truth ; evincing, as she makes 
 
 The grand transition, that there lives and works 
 
 A soul in all things, and that soul is God. 
 
 The beauties of the wilderness are his, 
 
 That makes so gay the solitary place, 
 
 Where no eye sees them. And the fairer form*; 
 
 That cultivation glories in, are his. 
 
 He sets the bright procession on its way, 
 
 And marshals all the order of the - year ; 
 
 He marks ihe bounds, which winter may not pass, 
 
 And blunts his pointed fury ; in its case, 
 
 Russet and rude, folds up the tender germ, 
 
 Uniniur'd, with inimitable art; 
 
 And.tre one fiow'ry season fades and dies, 
 
 Designs the blooming wonders of the next. 
 
 Some say that in the origin of things, 
 "When all creation started into birth, 
 The infant elements reeeiv'd a law. 
 From which they swerve not since. That under for< 
 Of that controlling ordinance they move, 
 And need not His immediate hand who first 
 Preserit/d their course, to regulate it now. 
 Thus dream they, and contrive to save a God 
 Th' encumbrance of his own concerns, and spari 
 
 *The great artificer of all that moves 
 i ess of a continual act, the pain 
 
 • Of urn-emitted vigilance and care, 
 As too laborious and severe a 'ask. 
 So man, the moth, is not afraid, it seems, 
 To span omnipotence, and measure might 
 That knows no measure, by the sea' i 
 
THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 1 
 
 And standard of his own, that is to-day, 
 And is not ere to-morrow's sun go down. 
 But how should matter occupy a charge, 
 Dull as it is, and satisfy a law 
 So vast in its demands, unless impell'd 
 To ceaseless service hy a ceaseless force, 
 And under pressure of some conscious cause ■ 
 The Lord of all, himself through all diftus'd, 
 Sustains, and is the life of all that lives. 
 Nature is but a name for an effect, 
 Whose cause is God. He feeds the secret fire, 
 By which the mighty process is maintain'd, 
 Who sleeps not, is not weary; in whose sight 
 Slow circling ages are as transient days ; 
 Whose work is without labour ; whose designs 
 No flaw deforms, no difficulty thwarts : 
 And whose beneficence no charge exhausts. 
 Him blind antiquity profan'd, not serv'd, 
 With self-taught rites, and under various names, 
 Female and male, Pomona, Pales, Pan, 
 And Flora, and Vertumnus ; peopling Earth 
 With tutelary goddesses and gods, 
 That were not ; and commending as they would 
 To each some province, garden, field, or grove. 
 But all are under-one. One spirit— His 
 Who wore the platted thorns witli bleeding brows- 
 Rules universal nature. Not a flow'r 
 But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stain, 
 Of his unrivall'd pencil. He inspires 
 Their balmy odours, and imparts their hues, 
 And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes, 
 In grains as countless as the seaside sands, 
 The forms with which lie sprinkles all the Earth. 
 Happy who walks with him I whom what he finds 
 Of flavour or of scent in fruit or flow'r, 
 Or what he views of beautiful or grand 
 In nature, from the broad majestic oak 
 To the green blade that twinkles in the sun, 
 Prompts with remembrance of a present God. 
 His presence, who made all so fair, perceiv'd, 
 
130 THE TASK. 
 
 Makes all still fairer. As with him no scene 
 Is dreary, so with him all seasons please. 
 Though winter had been none, had man been trut 
 And Earth be punish 'd lor its tenant's sake, 
 Yet not in vengeance; as this smiling sky, 
 So soon succeeding such an a ngry night, 
 And those dissolving snows, and this clear stream 
 Recov'ring fast its liquid music, prove. 
 
 Who, then, that has a mind well strung and tun'd 
 To contemplation, and within his reach 
 A scene so friendly to his fav'rite task, 
 Would waste attention at the checker'd board. 
 His host of wooden warriors to and fro 
 Marching and countermarching, with an eye 
 As fix'das marble, with a forehead ridg'd 
 And furrow 'd into storms, and with a hand 
 Trembling, as if eternity were hung 
 In balance on his conduct of a pin ? 
 Nor envies he aught more their idle sport. 
 Who pant with application misapplied 
 To trivial toys, and, pushing iv'ry balls 
 Across a velvet level, feel a joy 
 Akin to rapture, when the bauble finds 
 Its destin'd goal, of difficult access. 
 Nor deems lie wiser him, who gives his noon 
 To miss, the mercer's plague, from shop to shop 
 Wand'ring, and litt'ring with unfolded silks 
 The polish'd counter, and approving none, 
 Or promising with smiles to call again. 
 Nor him, who by his vanity srduc'd, 
 And sooth'd into a dream, that he discerns 
 The difference of a Guido from a daub, 
 Frequents the crowded auction : station'd there 
 As duly as the Langford of the show, 
 With glass at eye, and catalogue in hand, 
 And tongue accomplished in the fulsome cant 
 And pedantry rh;;t coxcombs learn with ease ; 
 Oft as the price-deciding hammer falls, 
 He notes it in his book, then raps his box, 
 
THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 137 
 
 Swears 'tis a bargain, rails at his hard fate, 
 That he has let it pass— but never bids J 
 
 Here unmolested, through whatever sign 
 The sun proceeds, I wander. Neither mist, 
 Nor freezing sky nor sultry, checking me, ' 
 Nor stranger Intermeddling with my joy. 
 E'en in the spring and playtime of the year, 
 That calls th' unwonted villager abroad 
 With all her little ones, a sportive train, 
 To gather kingcups in the yellow mead. 
 And prink their hair with daisies, or to pick 
 A cheap but wholesome salad from the brook— 
 These shades are all my own. The tim'rous hare, 
 Grown so familiar with her frequent guest, 
 Scarce shuns me ; and the stock-dove, unalarm'd, 
 Sits cooing in the pinetree, nor suspends 
 His long love ditty for my near approach. 
 Drawn from his refuge in some lonely elm, 
 That age or injury has hollow 'd deep, 
 Where, on his bed of wool and matted leaves, 
 He has outslept the winter, ventures forth, 
 To frisk awhile, and bask in the warm sun, 
 The squirrel, flippant, pert, and full of play : 
 He sees me, and at once, swift as a bird, 
 Ascends the neighb'ring beech ; there whisks his brush. 
 And perks his ears, and stamps, and cries aloud, 
 With all the prettiness of feign'd alarm, 
 And anger insignificantly fierce. 
 
 The heart is hard in nature, and unfit 
 For human fellowship, as being void 
 at sympathy, and therefore dead alike 
 To love and friendship both, that is notpleas'd 
 With sight of animals enjoying life, 
 Sor feels their happiness augment his own. 
 The bounding fawn, that darts across the glade 
 When none pursues, through mere delight of heart. 
 And spirits buoyant with excess of glee ; 
 The horse as wanton, and almost as fleet, 
 
THE TASK. 
 
 That skims the spacious meadow at full speed, 
 
 Then stops, and snorts, and, throwing high his hcel? ; 
 
 Starts to the voluntary race again ; 
 
 The very kine that gambol at high noon, 
 
 The total herd receiving first from one 
 
 That leads the dance, a summons to be gay, 
 
 Though wild their strange vagaries, and uncouth 
 
 Their efforts, yet resolv'd, with one consent, 
 
 To give such act and utt'ranoe as they may 
 
 To ecstacy too big to be suppress'd— 
 
 These, and a thousand images of bliss, 
 
 With which kind Nature graces ev'ry scene. 
 
 Where cruel man defeats not her design, 
 
 Impart to the benevolent, who wish 
 
 All that are capable of pleasure pleas'd, 
 
 A far superior happiness to their's, 
 
 The comfort of a reasonable joy. 
 
 Man scarce had ris'n, obedient to his call 
 Who form'd him from the dust, his future grave, 
 When he was crown 'd as never king was since. 
 God set the diadem upon his head, 
 And angel choirs attended. Wond'ring stood 
 The new made monarch, while before him pass'd, 
 All happy, and all perfect in their kind, 
 The creatures, summon'd from their various haunt?, 
 To see their sov 'reign, and confess his sway. 
 Vast was his empire, absolute his pow'r, 
 Or bounded only by a law whose force 
 • Twas his sublimest privilege to feel 
 And own—the Jaw of universal love, 
 lie rul'd with meekness, they obey'd with joy 
 No cruel purpose lurk'd within his heart, 
 And no distrust of his intent in their's. 
 So Eden was a scene of harmless sport, 
 Where kindness on his part who rul'd the whole, 
 Begat a tranquil confidence in all, 
 And fear as jet was not, nor cause for fear. 
 But sin marr'd all ; and the revolt of man, 
 That source of evils not exhausted yet, 
 
THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 160 
 
 "Was punish'd with revolt of his from him. 
 
 Garden of God, how teiTible t!ie change 
 
 Thy groves and lawns then witness 'd ! Ev'ry heart, 
 
 Each animal, of ev'ry name, conceiv'd 
 
 A jealousy and an instinctive fear, 
 
 And, conscious of some danger, either fled 
 
 Precipitate the loath'd abode of man, 
 
 Or growl'd defiance in such angry sort, 
 
 As taught him too to tremble in his turn. 
 
 Thus harmony and family accord 
 
 Weredriv'n from Paradise; and in that houv 
 
 The seeds of cruelty, that since have swell 'd 
 
 To such gigantic and enormous growth, 
 
 Were sown in human nature's fruitful soil. 
 
 Hence date the persecution and the pain, 
 
 That man inflicts on all inferior kinds, 
 
 Regardless of their plaints. To make him sport* 
 
 To gratify the frenzy of his wrath, 
 
 Dr his base gluttony, are causes good 
 
 And just in his account, why bird and beast 
 
 Should suffer torture, and the streams be died 
 
 With blood of their inhabitants impal'd. 
 
 Earth groans beneath the burden of a war 
 
 VVag'd with defenceless innocence, while he, 
 
 Vot satisfied to prey on all around, 
 
 Adds tenfold bitterness of death by pangs 
 
 Seedless, and first torments ere he devours. 
 
 Vow happiest they that occupy the scenes 
 
 I'he most remote from his abhov'd resort, 
 
 Whom once, as delegate of God ou Earth, 
 
 They fear'd, and, as his perfect image, lov'd. 
 
 The wilderness istheir's, with all its caves, 
 
 ts hollow glens, its thickets, and its plains, 
 
 Jnvisited by man. There they are tree, 
 
 \nd howl and roar as likes them, u n control 1'u; 
 
 r or ask his leave to slumber or to play, m 
 Wo to the tyrant, if he dare intrude 
 Within the confines of their wild domain : 
 The lion tells him— I am monarch here— 
 \nd if he spare him, spares him on the terms 
 
140 THE TASK. 
 
 Of royal mercy, and through gen'rous scorn 
 To rend a victim trembling at his foot. 
 In measure, as by force of instinct drawn, 
 Or by necessity constrain'd, they live 
 Dependent upon man ; those in his fields, 
 These at his crib, and some beneath his roof. 
 They prove too often at how dear a rate 
 He sells protection— Witness at his foot 
 The spaniel dying for some venial fault 
 Under dissection of the knotted scourge ; 
 "Witness the patient ox, with stripes and yells 
 Driv'n to the slaughter, goaded, as he runs, 
 To madness ; while the savage at his heels 
 Laughs at the frantic suff 'rer's fury, spent 
 Upon tiie guiltless passenger o'erthrown. 
 He too is witness, noblest of the train 
 That wait on man, the flight-performing horse ; 
 With unsuspecting readiness he takes 
 His murd'rer on his back, and, push'd all day 
 With bleeding sides and flanks that heave for life 
 To the far distant goal arrives and dies. 
 So little mercy shows who needs so much! 
 Does law, so jealous in the cause of man, 
 Denounce no doom on ^.the delinquent ? None. 
 He lives and o'ei* his brimming beaker boasts, 
 (As if barbarity were ; high desert,) 
 Th' inglorious feat, and clamorous in praise 
 Of the poor brute, Seems wisely to suppose 
 The honours of his matchless horse his own. 
 But many a ci ime,^deem'd innocent on Earth, 
 Is register'd in fjeav'n ; and these no, doubt. 
 Have each thei*' record, with a curse annex'd. 
 Man may dismiss compassion from his heart. 
 But God will ifltevei*. When he charg'd the Jew 
 T' assist hiMoe's down-fallen beast to rise ; 
 And when tne bush-exploring boy, that seized 
 The young/to let the parent bird go free ; 
 Prov'd he not plainly, that his meaner works 
 Are yet his care, and have an int'rest all, 
 All, in the universal Father's love ? 
 
THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 14* 
 
 On Noah, and in him on all mankind, 
 The charter was conferr'd by winch we hold 
 The flesh of animals in fee, and claim 
 O'er all we feed on powV of life and death. 
 But read the instrument, and mark it well : 
 Th' oppression of a tyrannous control 
 Can find no warrant there. Feed, then, and yielu 
 Thanks for thy food. Carnivorous, through sin, 
 Feed on the slain, but spare the living brute I 
 
 The Governor of all, himself to all 
 So bountiful, in whose attentive ear 
 The unfledg'd raven and the lion's whelp 
 Plead not in vain for pity on the pangs 
 Of hunger unassuag'd, has interpos'd, 
 Not seldom, his avenging arm, to smite 
 Th' injurious trampler upon Nature's law, 
 That claims forbearance even for a brute. 
 He hates the hardness of a Balaam's heart ; 
 And, prophet as he was, he might not strike 
 The blameless animal, without rebuke, 
 On which he rode. Her opportune offence 
 Sav'd him, or th' unrelenting seer had died. 
 He sees that human equity is slack 
 To interfere, though in so jus"t a cause : 
 And makes the task his own. Inspiring dumb 
 And helpless victims with a sense so keen 
 Of injury, with such knowledge of their strength 
 And such sagacity to take revenge. 
 That oft the beast has seem'd to judge the man. 
 An ancient, not a legendary tale, 
 By one of sound intelligence rehears'd, 
 (If such who plead for, Providence may seem 
 In modern eyes,) shall make the docfpne clear. 
 
 Where England, stretch'd toward the setting :.».>:;, 
 Narrow and long, o'er looks the western wave, 
 Dwelt "young Misagathus ; a scorner he 
 Of God and goodness, atheist in ostent, 
 Vitious in act. in temper savage fierce- 
 
THE TASK. 
 
 He journey 'dj and his change was as he went, 
 To join a trav'ller, of far different note, 
 Evander, fam'd for piety, for years 
 Deserving honour, but for wisdom more. 
 Fame had not left the venerable man 
 A stranger to the manners of the youth, 
 Whose face, too, was familiar to his view. 
 Their way was on the margin of the land, 
 O'er the green summit of the rocks, whose base 
 Beats back the roaring surge,. scarce heard so higb. 
 The charity that warm'd his heart, was mov'd 
 At sight of the man-monster. With a smile 
 Gentle, and affable, and full of grace, 
 As fearful of offending whom he wish'd 
 Much to persuade, he plied his ear with truths 
 >Jot harshly thunder'd forth, or rudely press'd, 
 But, like his purpose, gracious, kind, and sweet. 
 "And dost thou dream," th' impenetrable man 
 Exclaim'd, " that me the lullabies of age, 
 " And fantasies of dotards, such as thou, 
 k 9Can cheat, or move a moment's fear in me ? 
 " Mark now the proof I give thee, that the brave 
 u Need no such aids as superstition lends < 
 ; < To steel their hearts against the dread of death.' : 
 He spoke, and to the precipice at hand 
 Push'd with a madman's fury. Fancy shrinks, 
 And the blood thrills and curdles at the thought 
 Of such a gulf as he dcsign'd his grave, 
 But, though the felon on his back could d-trc 
 The dreadful leap, more rational, his steed 
 Declin'd the death, wheeling swiftly round, 
 Or ere his hoof had press'd the crumbling verge* 
 Baffled his rid^r, sav'd against his will. 
 The frenzy of the brain may be redress'd 
 By med'cine well applied, but without grace 
 The heart's insanity admits no cure. 
 Enrag'd the more, by what might have reforai'd 
 His horrible intent, agajn he sought 
 Destruction, with a zeal to be destroy'd, 
 With sounding whip, and rowels died in blood: 
 3i>t still in vain. The Providence that meant 
 
THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. M3 
 
 A longer date to the far nobler beast, 
 
 Spar'd yet again th' ignoble for his sake. 
 
 And now, his prowess prov'd, and his sincere 
 
 Incurable obduracy evinc'd, 
 
 His rage grew cool, and, pleas'd perhaps t' have earn "si 
 
 So cheaply the renown of that attempt, 
 
 With looks of some complacence he resum'd 
 
 His road deriding much the blank amaze 
 
 ^f good Evander, still where he was left 
 
 Rix'd motionless, and petrified with dread. 
 
 So on they far'd. Discourse on other themes 
 
 Ensuing sem'd t' obliterate the past ; 
 
 \nd tamer far for so much fury shown,. 
 
 As is the course of rash and fiery men,) 
 
 The rude companion smil'd, as if transform 'd~~ 
 
 Jut 'twas a transient calm. A storm was near, 
 
 m unsuspected storm. His hour was come. 
 
 The impious challenger of Pow'r divine 
 
 Vas now to learn, that Heav'n, though slow to wrath; 
 
 s never with impunity defied. 
 
 lis horse, as he had caught his master's mood, 
 
 •norting, and starting into sudden rage, 
 
 Jnbidden, and not now to be controll'd, 
 
 tush'd to the cliff, and, having reach 'd it, stood, 
 
 once the shock unseated him he flew 
 heer o'er the craggy barrier : and immers'd 
 >eep in the flood, found, when he sought it not, 
 'he death he had deserv'd, and died alone. 
 o God wrought double justice, made the fool 
 he victim of his own tremendous choice, 
 nd taught a brute the way to safe revenge, 
 
 I would not enter on my list of friends, 
 Though grac'd with polish 'd manners and fine seme, 
 et wanting sensibility.) the man, 
 ho needlessly sets foot upon a worm, 
 n inadvertent step may crush the snail 
 hat crawls at ev'ning in the public path ; 
 at he that has humanity, forewarn'd, 
 ill tread aside, and let the reptile ! ; 
 
114 THE TASK. 
 
 The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight, 
 
 And charg'd perhaps with venom, that intrudes, 
 
 A visiter unwelcome, into scenes 
 
 Sacred to neatness and repose, th' alcove, 
 
 The chamber, or refectory, may die : 
 
 A necessary act incurs no blame. 
 
 Not so when, held within their proper bounds, 
 
 And guiltless of offence, they range the air, 
 
 Or take their pastime in the spacious field; 
 
 There they are privikg'd ; and he that hunts 
 
 Or harms them there is guilty of a wrong, 
 
 Disturbs the economy of Nature's realm, 
 
 Who, when she form'd, design'd them an abode. 
 
 The sum is this: If man's convenience, health, 
 
 Or safety interfere, his rights and claims 
 
 Are paramount, and must extinguish their's. 
 
 Else they are all— the leanest things that are— 
 
 As free to live, and to enjoy that life, 
 
 As God was free to form them at the first, 
 
 Who in his sov'reign wisdom made them all. 
 
 Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons 
 
 To love it too. The spring time of our years 
 
 Is soon dishonour'd and defiTd in most 
 
 By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand 
 
 To check them. But, alas .' none sooner shoots. 
 
 If umestrain'd, into luxuriant growth, 
 
 Than cruelty, most devlish of them all. 
 
 Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule 
 
 And righteous limitation of its act, 
 
 By which Heav'n moves in pard'ning guilty man; 
 
 And he that shows none, being ripe in years, 
 
 And conscious of the outrage he commits, 
 
 Shall seek it, and not find it, in his turn. 
 
 Distinguish 'd much by reason, and still more 
 By our capacity of Grace divine, 
 From creatures, that exist but for our sake, 
 Which, having serv'd us, perish, we are held 
 Accountable ; and God some future day 
 Will reckon with us roundly for th' abuse 
 
THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 14o 
 
 Of what he deems no mean or trivial trust. 
 
 Superior as we are, they yet depend 
 
 Not more on human help than we on their's. 
 
 Their strength, or speed, or vigilance, were giv'n 
 
 In aid of our defects. In some are found 
 
 Such teachable and apprehensive parts, 
 
 That man's attainments in his own concerns, 
 
 Match'd with th' expertness of the brutes in their's, 
 
 Areofttimes vanquish 'd and thrown far behind. 
 
 Some show that nice sagacity of smell, 
 
 And reaff with such discernment, in the port 
 
 And figure of the man, his secret aim, 
 
 That oft we owe our safety to a skill 
 
 We could not teach, and must despair to learn. 
 
 But learn we might, if not too proud to stoop 
 
 To quadruped instructors, many a good 
 
 And useful quality, and virtue too, 
 
 ltarely exempli tied among ourselves. 
 
 Attachment never to be wean'd, or chang'd 
 
 By any changeof fortune : proof alike 
 
 Against unkindness, absence, and neglect; 
 
 Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat 
 
 Can move or warp ; and gratitude for small 
 
 \nd trivial favours, lasting as the life, 
 
 Andglist'ning even in the dying eye. 
 
 Man praises man. Desert in arts or arms 
 Wins public honour ; and ten thousand sit 
 Patiently present at a sacred song, 
 Commemoration mad ; content to hear 
 (O wonderful effect of music's power .') 
 Messiah's eulogy for Handel's sake! 
 But less, methinks, than sacrilege might serve 
 (For, was it less, what heathen would have dar'd 
 To strip Jove's statue of his oaken wreath, 
 And hang it up in honour of a man I) 
 Much less might serve, when all that we design 
 Ts but to gratify an itching ear, 
 And give the day to a musician's praise. 
 Remember Handel .' Who, that was not born 
 
 VOL. II. G* 
 
146 THE TA§K. 
 
 Deaf as the dead to harmony, forgets, 
 
 Or can, the more than Homer of his age ? 
 
 Yes— we remember him ; and while we praise 
 
 A talent so divine, remember too 
 
 That His most fcoly book from whom it came.. 
 
 Was never meant, was never us'd before, 
 
 To buckram out the mem'ry of a man. 
 
 But hush !— the Muse perhaps is too severe: 
 
 And with a gravity beyond the size 
 
 And measure of th' offence, rebukes a deed^ 
 
 Less impious than absurd, and owing more 
 
 To want of judgment than to wrong design. 
 
 So in the chapel of old Ely House, 
 
 When wand'ring Charles, wlio meant to be the third-, 
 
 Had fled from William, and the news was fresh, 
 
 The simple clerk, but loyal, did announce, 
 
 And eke did rear right merrily, two staves, 
 
 Sung to the praise and glory of King George I 
 
 — Man praises man : and Garrick's mem'ry next, 
 
 When time hath somewhat mellow'd it, and made 
 
 The idol of our worship while he liv'd 
 
 The God of our idolatry once more, 
 
 Shall have its altar ; and the World shall go 
 
 In pilgrimage to bow before his shrine. 
 
 The theatre too small, shall suffocate 
 
 Its squeez'd contents, and more than it admits 
 
 Shall sigh at their exclusion. and return 
 
 Ungratified : for there some noble lord 
 
 Shall stuffhis shoulders with King tlichard's bunch. 
 
 Or wrap himself in Hamlet's inky cloak, 
 
 And strut, and storm, and straddle, stamp and stare, 
 
 To show the world how Garrick did not act. 
 
 For Garrick was a worshipper himself; 
 
 H drew the liturgy, and fiam'd the rites 
 
 And solemn ceremonial of the day, 
 
 And call'd the World to worship on the banks 
 
 Of Avon, fam'd in song. Ah, pleasant proof 
 
 That piety has still in human hearts 
 
 Some place, a spark or two not yet extinct, 
 
 The muIVrry tree was buDg with blooming wreaths 
 
THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. H7 
 
 The mulb'rry tree stood centre of the dance ; 
 
 The mulb'rry tree was hymn'd with dulcet airs ; 
 
 And from his touchwood trunk the mulb'rry tree 
 
 Supplied such relics as devotion holds 
 
 Still sacred, and preserves with pious care. 
 
 So 'twas a hallow'd time: decorum reign'dj 
 
 And mirth without offence. No few return 'd, 
 
 Doubtless, much edified, and all refresh'd. 
 
 —Man praises man. The rabble all alive 
 
 From tippling benches, cellars, stalls, and styes, 
 
 Swarm in the streets. The statesman of the day, . 
 
 A pompous and slow-moving pageant, comes. 
 
 Some shout him, and some hang upon his ear, 
 
 To gaze in'S eyes, and bless him. Maidens wave 
 
 Their kerchiefs, and old women weep for joy: 
 
 While others, not so satisfied, unhorse 
 
 The gilded equipage, and turning loose 
 
 His steeds, usurp a place they well deserve. 
 
 Why .' what has charm 'd them ? Hath he sav'd the 
 
 state I 
 
 No. Doth he purpose its salvation ? No. 
 Enchanting novelty, that moon at full * , 
 That finds out ev'ry crevice of the head 
 That is not sound, and perfect, hath in their's 
 Wrought this disturbance. But the wane is'near, 
 And his own cattle must suffice him soon. 
 Thus idly do we waste the breath of praise, 
 And dedicate a tribute, in its use 
 And just direction sacred, to a thing 
 Dooin'd to the dust, or lodg'd already there. 
 Encomium in -old time was poet's work ; 
 But poets, having lavishly long since 
 Exhausted all materials of the art, 
 The task now falls into the public hand j 
 And I contented with a humble theme, 
 Have pour'd my stream of panegyric down ' 
 The vale of Nature, where it creeps and winds - 
 Among her lovely works with a secure 
 And unambitious course, reflecting clear. 
 If not the virtues, yet the worth of brutes, . 
 
148 THE TASK. 
 
 And I am recompensed, and deem the toils 
 Of poetry not lost, if verse of mine 
 May stand between an animal and wo, 
 And teach one tyrant pity for his drudge. 
 
 The groans of Nature in this nether world, 
 Which heav'n has heard for ages, have an end. 
 Foretold by prophets, and by poets sung, 
 "Whose fire was kindled at the prophets' lamp ; 
 The time of rest, the promis'd sabbath, comes* 
 Six thousand years of sorrow have well nigh 
 Fulfill'd their tardy and disastrous course 
 Over a sinful world ; and what remains 
 Of this tempestuous state of human things 
 Is merely as the working of a sea 
 Before a calm that rocks itself to rest ; 
 For He, whose car the winds are, and the clouds 
 The dust that waits upon his sultry march, 
 When sin hath mov'd him, and his wrath is hot, 
 Shall visit Earth in mercy ; shall descend 
 Propitious in his chariot pav'd with love; 
 And what his storms have blasted and defac'd, 
 For man's revolt, shall with a smile repair. 
 
 Sweet is the harp of prophecy ; too sweet 
 Not to be wrong'd by a mere mortal touch ; 
 Nor can the wonders it records be sung 
 To meaner music, and not suffer loss. 
 But when a poet, or when one like me, 
 Happy to rove among poetic flow Ys, 
 Though poor in skill to rear them, lights at last 
 On some fair theme, some theme divinely fair, 
 Such is the impulse and the spur he feels, 
 To give it praise proportion 'd to its worth, 
 That not t' attempt it, arduous as he deems 
 The labour, were a task more arduous still. 
 
 O scenes surpassing fable, and yet true, 
 Scenes of accomplish 'd bliss ! which who can sety 
 Though bat in distant prospect, and net feel 
 
THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 1 
 
 His soul refresh'd with foretaste of the joy ? 
 
 Rivers of gladness water all the Earth, 
 
 And clothe all climes with beauty; the reproach 
 
 Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field 
 
 Laughs with abundance ; and the land, once lean, 
 
 Or fertile only in its own disgrace, 
 
 Exults to see its thistly curse repeal'd. 
 
 The various seasons woven into one, 
 
 And that one season an eternal spring, 
 
 The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence, 
 
 For there is none to covet, all are full. 
 
 The lion, and the libbard, and the bear, 
 
 Graze with the fearless flocks ; all bask at noon 
 
 Together, or al! gambol in the shade 
 
 Of the same grove, and drink one common stream. 
 
 Antipathies are none. No foe to man 
 
 Lurks in the serpent now : the mother sees, 
 
 And smiles to see, her infant's playful hand 
 
 Stretch'd forth to dally with the crested worm. 
 
 To stroke his azure neck, or to receive 
 
 The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue. 
 
 All creatures worship man, and all mankind 
 
 One Lord, one Father. Error has no place ; 
 
 That creeping pestilence is driv'n away ; 
 
 The breath of Heav'n has chas'd it. In the heart 
 
 No passion touches a discordant string, 
 
 But all is harmony and love. Disease 
 
 Is not : the pure and uncontaminate blood 
 
 Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. 
 
 One song employs all nations; and all cry, 
 
 " Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us I" 
 
 The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks 
 
 Shout to each other, and the mountain tops 
 
 From distant mountains catch the flying joy 
 
 Til!, nation after nation taught the strain, 
 
 Earth rolls the rapturous hosanna round. 
 
 Behold the measure of the promise fill'd ; 
 
 See Salem built, the labour of a God! 
 
 Bright as a sun the sacred city shines ; 
 
 AH kingdoms and all princes of the Earth 
 
lh THE TASK. jf 
 
 Flock to that light ; the glory of all lands 
 Flows into her ; unbounded is her joy, 
 And endless her increase. Thy rams are there v 
 Nebaioth,* and the flocks of Kedar there: 
 The looms of Ormus, and the mines of Ind, 
 And Saba's spicy groves, pay tribute there. 
 Praise is in all her gates ; upon her walls, 
 And in her streets, and in her spacious courts; 
 Is heard salvation. Eastern Java there 
 Kneels with the native of the farthest west; 
 And ^Ethiopia spreads abroad the hand, 
 And worships. Her report has travell'd forth 
 Into all lands. From ev'ry clime they come 
 To see thy beauty and to share thy joy, 
 O Sion ! an assembly such as Earth 
 Saw never, such as Heav'n stoops down to see. 
 
 Thusheav'nward all things tend. For all were once 
 Perfect, and all must be at length restor'd. 
 So God has greatly purpos'd ; who would else 
 In his dishonour'd works himself endure . 
 Dishonour, and be wrong'd without redress. 
 Haste, then, and wheel away a shatter'd world, 
 Ye slow-revolving seasons! we would see 
 (A sight to which our eyes are strangers yet) 
 A world, that does not dread and hate his laws, 
 And suffer for its crime ; would learn how fair 
 The creature is, that God pronounces good ; 
 How pleasant in itself what pleases him. 
 How ev'ry drop of honey hides a sting: 
 Worms wind themselves into our sweetest flow'rs i 
 And e'en the joy, that haply some poor heart 
 Derives from Heav'n, pure as the fountain is s 
 Is sullied in the stream, taking a taint 
 From touch of human lips, at best impure. 
 
 * Nebaioth and Kedar, the sons of Ishmael, and pro* 
 genitors of the Arabs in the prophetic Scripture licre 
 alluded to, may be reasonably considered as representa- 
 tives of the Gentile* at large. 
 
i HE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 151 
 
 O for a world in principle as chaste 
 
 As this is gross and selfish ! over which 
 
 Custom and prejudice shall bear no sway, 
 
 That govern all things here, should'ring aside 
 
 The meek and modest Truth, and forcing her 
 
 To seek a refuge from the tongue of Strife 
 
 In nooks obscure, far from the ways of men ; 
 
 Where Violence shall never lift the sword, 
 
 Nor Cunning justify the proud man's wrong, 
 
 Leaving the poor no remedy but tears : 
 
 Where he that fills an office, shall esteem 
 
 Th' occasion it presents of doing good 
 
 More than the perquisite : where Law shall spea*>. 
 
 Seldom, and never but as Wisdom prompts 
 
 And Equity ; not jealous more to guard 
 
 A worthless form than to decide aright: 
 
 Where Fashion shall not sanctify abuse, 
 
 Nor smooth Good-breeding (supplemental grace; 
 
 With lean performance ape the work of Love! 
 
 Come, then, and, added to thy many crowns 
 Receive yet one, the crown of all the Earth, 
 Thou who alone art worthy ! It was thine 
 By ancient covenant, ere Nature's birth ; 
 And thou hast made it thine by purchase since. 
 And o'erpaid its value with thy blood. 
 Thy saints proclaim thee king ; and in their heart 
 Thy title is engraven with a pen 
 Dipp'd in the fountain of eternal love. 
 Thy saints proclaim thee king; and thy delay 
 Gives courage to their foes, who, could they see 
 The dawn of thy last advent, long desir'd, 
 Would creep into the bowels of the hills, 
 And flee for safety to the falling rocks. 
 The very spirit of the world is tir'd 
 Of its own taunting question, ask'd so long, 
 " Where is the promise of your Lord's approach V 
 The infidel has shot his bolts away, 
 Till, his exhausted quiver yielding none, 
 He gleans the blunted shafts, that have recoil'd, 
 
m THE TASK. 
 
 And aims them at the shield of Truth again, 
 
 The veil is rent, rent too by priestly bands, 
 
 That hides divinity from mortal eyes ; 
 
 And all the mysteries to faith propos'd, 
 
 Insulted and traduc'd are cast aside, 
 
 As useless, to the moles and to the bats. 
 
 They now aredeem'd the faithful, and are prais'd, 
 
 Who, constant only in rejecting Thee, 
 
 Deny thy Godhead with a martyr's zeal, 
 
 And quit their office for their error's sake. 
 
 Blind and in love with darkness J yet e'en these 
 
 Worthy, compar'd with sycophants, who knee 
 
 Thy name adoring, and then preach thee man ; 
 
 So fares thy church. But how thy church may fare 
 
 The world takes little thought. Who will, may preach* 
 
 And what they will. All pastors are alike 
 
 To wand'ring sheep, resolv'd to follow none. 
 
 Two gods divide them all— Pleasure and Gain ; 
 
 For these they live, they sacrifice to these, 
 
 And in their service wage perpetual war 
 
 With Conscience and with Thee. Lust in their hearty 
 
 And mischief in their hands, they roam the Earth 
 
 To prey upon each other; stubborn, fierce, 
 
 High-minded, foaming out their own disgrace. 
 
 Thy prophets speak of such ; and noting down 
 
 The features of the last degen'rate times, 
 
 Exhibit ev'ry lineament of these. 
 
 Come, then, and, added to thy many crowns, 
 
 Receive yet one, as radiant as the rest, 
 
 Due to thy last and most effectual work, 
 
 Thy word fulfill'd, the conquest of a world ! 
 
 He is the happy man, whose life e'en now 
 Shows somewhat of that happier life to come ; 
 Who, doom'd to an obscure but tranquil state, 
 Is pleased with it, and, were he free to choose, 
 Would make his fate his choice ; whom peace, the frui I 
 Of virtue, and whom virtue, fruit of faith, 
 Prepare for happiness ; bespeak him one 
 Content indeed to sojourn while he must 
 
1 HE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 153 
 
 *?eIow the skies, but having there his home. 
 The World o'erlooks him in her busy search 
 Of objects more illustrious in her view ; 
 And, occupied as earnestly as she, 
 Though more sublimely, he o'erlooks the Wm-lri.,^ 
 ^ghe scorns his pleasures, for she knows them not ; 
 He seeks not her's, for he has pro/'d them vain. 
 He cannot skim the ground like summer birds 
 Pursuing gilded flies : and such he deems 
 Her honours, her emoluments, her joys, 
 'therefore hi contemplation is his bliss, 
 — Whose pow'r is such, that whom she lifts from Earth 
 £>he makes familiar with a Heav'n unseen, 
 And shows him glories yet to be reveal'd. «^, 
 Not slothful he, though seeming unemploy'd, 
 And censur'd oft as useless. Stillest streams 
 Oft water fairest meadows, and the bird 
 That flutters least is longest on the wing. 
 Ask him, indeed, what trophies he has rais'd, 
 Or what achievements of immortal fame 
 He purposes, and he shall answer— None. 
 His warfare is within. There, unfatigu'd, 
 His fervent spirit labours. There he tights, 
 And there obtains fresh triumphs o'er himself, 
 And never-with'ring wreaths, compared with which. 
 The laurels that a Caesar reaps are weeds. 
 Perhaps the self-approving, haughty world, 
 That as she sweeps him with her whistling silks 
 Scarce deigns to notice him, or if she see, 
 Deems him a cipher in the works of God, 
 Receives advantage from his noiseless hours, 
 Of which she little dreams. Perhaps she owes 
 Het sunshine and her rain, her blooming spring 
 And plenteous harvest, to the pray'r he makes, 
 When, Isaac like, the solitary saint 
 Walks forth to meditate at eventide, 
 And think on her who thinks not for herself. 
 Forgive him, then, thou bustler in concerns 
 Of little worth, an idler in the best, 
 If, author of no mischief and some good, 
 G2 
 
IM THE TASK. 
 
 He seeks his proper happiness by means 
 That may advance, but cannot hinder, thine* 
 Nor, though he tread the secret path of life, 
 Engage no notice, and enjoy much ease, 
 Ajjjpimt him an encumbrance on the state, 
 Receiving benefits, and rend'ring none. 
 His sphere, though bumble, if that humble sphere 
 Shine with his fair example ; and though small 
 His influence, if that influence all he spent 
 In soothing sorrow, and in quenching strife, 
 In aiding helpless Indigence in works 
 from which at least a grateful few derive 
 Some taste of comfort in a world of wo ; 
 Then let the supercilious great confess 
 He serves his country, recompenses well 
 The state, beneath the shadow of whose vint 
 He sits secure, and in the scale of life 
 Holds no ignoble, though a slighted, place. 
 The man. whose virtues are more felt than seen, 
 Must drop indeed the hope of public praise; 
 But he may boast, what few that win it can, 
 That if his country stand not by his skill, 
 At least his follies have not wrought her fall. 
 Polite Refinement offers him in vain 
 Her golden tube, through which a sensual World 
 Draws gross impurity, and likes it well, 
 The neat conveyance hiding all the offence. 
 Not that he peevishly rejects a mode, 
 Wecause that World adopts it. If it bear 
 The stamp and clear impression of good sense, 
 And be not costly more than of true worth, 
 He puts it on, and for decorum sake 
 Can wear it e'en as gracefully as she. 
 She judges of refinement by the eye; 
 He, by the test of conscience, and a heart 
 Not soon deceiv'd; aware, that what is base 
 No polish can make sterling; and that vice, 
 Though well perfum'd and elegantly dress'd, 
 Like an unburied carcass trick'd with flow'rs. 
 Is but a gamish'd nuisance, fitter far 
 
THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 155 
 
 For cleanly riddance than for fair attire. 
 
 So life glides smoothly and by stealth away, 
 
 More golden than that age of fabled gold 
 
 Renowivd in ancient song ; not vex'd with care 
 
 Or stain'd with guilt, beneficent, approv'd 
 
 Of God and man, and peaceful in its end. 
 
 So glide my life away ! and so at last, 
 
 My share of duties decently fulfill'd, 
 
 May some disease, not tardy to perform 
 
 Its destin'd office, yet with gentle stroke, 
 
 Dismiss me weary to a safe retreat 
 
 Beneath the turf that I have often trod. 
 
 It shall not grieve me then, that once, when call'd 
 
 To dress a Sofa with the flow'rs of verse, 
 
 Iplay'd awhile, obedient to the fair, 
 
 With that light Task ; but soon, to please her more, 
 
 Whom flowers alone I knew would little please, 
 
 Let fall th' unfinished wreath, and rov'd for fruit ; 
 
 Rov'd far, and gather'd much : some harsh, 'tis true, • 
 
 Pick'd from the thorns and briars of reproof, 
 
 But wholesome, well digested ; grateful some 
 
 To palates that can taste immortal truth ; 
 
 Insipid else, and sure to be despis'd. 
 
 But all is in His hand whose praise I seek. 
 
 In vain the poet sings, and the World hears, 
 
 If he regard not, though divine the theme. 
 
 'Tis not in artful measures, in the chime 
 
 And idle tinkling of a minstrel's lyre, 
 
 To charm His ear, whose eye is on the heart, 
 
 Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain, 
 
 Whose approbation— prosper even mine. 
 

 
(157) 
 
 AN 
 
 EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESq. 
 
 DEAR JOSEPH— five and twenty years ago— 
 Mas, how time escapes !— 'tis even so— 
 >Vith frequent intercourse, and always sweet, 
 Ind always friendly, we were wont to cheat 
 V tedious hour— and now we never meet ! 
 Vs some grave gentleman in Terence says, 
 'Twas therefore much the same in ancient days,) 
 5ood lack, we know not what to-morrow brings— 
 krange fluctuation of all human things ! 
 True. Changes will befall, and friends may part, 
 3ut distance only cannot change the heart ; 
 \nd, were Icall'dto prove th' assertion true, 
 3ne preof should serve— a reference to you. 
 
 Whence comes it, then, that in the vane of life, 
 Though nothing have occur'd to kindle strife, 
 We find the friends we fancied we had won, 
 Though num'rous once, reduc'd to few or none ? 
 Can gold grow worthless, that has stood the touch ? 
 No ; gold they seem 1 d, but they were never such, 
 
 Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe, 
 Swinging the parlour door upon its hinge, 
 Dreading a negative, and overaw'd 
 Lest he should trespass, begg'd to go abroad . 
 Go, fellow,— whither ?— turning short about— 
 Nay— Stay at home— you're always going our. 
 'Tis but a step, sir, just at the street's end.— 
 For what .'—An please you, sir, to see a friend.-- 
 
i 58 AN EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ 
 
 A friend ! Horatio cried, and seem'd to start- 
 Yea, marry shalt thou, and with all my heart- 
 Arid fetch my cloak; for, though the night be raw, 
 I'll see him too— the first I ever saw. 
 
 I knew the man, and knew his nature mild, 
 And was his plaything often when a child ; 
 But somewhat at that moment pinch'd him close, 
 Else he was seldom bitter or morose. 
 Perhaps his confidence just then betray'd, 
 His grief might prompt him with the speech he made 
 Perhaps 'twas mere good humour gave it birth, 
 The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth. 
 Howe'er it was, his language, in my mind, 
 Bespoke at least a man that knew mankind. 
 
 But not to moralize too much, and strain, 
 To prove an evil, of which all complain, 
 (I hate long arguments verbosely spun,) 
 One story more, dear Hill, and I have done. 
 Once on a time an emp'ror, a wise man, 
 No matter where, in China or Japan, 
 Decreed, that whosoever should offend 
 Against the well-known duties of a friend, 
 Convicted once, should ever after wear 
 But half a coat,,and show his bosom bare. 
 The punishment importing this, no doubt, 
 [bat all was naught within, and all found out. 
 
 O happy Britain .' we have not to fear 
 Such hard and arbitrary measure here ; 
 Else, could a law like that which I relate, 
 Once have the sanction of our triple state. 
 Some few, that I have known in days of old, 
 Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold ; 
 While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow, 
 Might traverse England safely to and fro, 
 An honest man, close-button \1 to the chin, 
 Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within. 
 
TIROCINIUM 
 
 OR, 
 
 A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS, 
 
 KipaXauov <f« Tr&tJuctz op&» t§o?».... m Plato. 
 
 Apw?rcMTilct;eL'7rtts-»s i V6{el"r(K><psi,,„Diog.L<ier: 
 
TO THE REVEREND 
 
 WILLIAM CAWTHORNE UNWIN, * 
 RECTOR OF STOCK IN ESSEX, 
 
 THETUTOROF HISTWO SONS, 
 
 THE FOLLOWING 
 
 POEM, 
 
 RECOMMENDING PRIVATE TUITION, IN 
 
 PREFERENCE TO AN EDUCATION 
 
 AT SCHOOL, 
 
 IS INSCRIBED, 
 
 BY HIS AFFECTIONATE FRIEND, 
 
 WILLIAM CO WPER . 
 
 3Iney, Nov. 6, 1784. 
 
(■mi 
 
 TIROCINIUM 
 
 IT is not from his form, in which we trace 
 Strength join'd with beauty, dignity with grace, 
 That man, the master of this globe, derives 
 His right of empire over all that lives. 
 That form, indeed, th' associate of a mind 
 Vast in its pow'rs, ethereal in its kind— 
 That form, the labour of almighty skill, 
 Fram'd for the service of a freeborn will, 
 Asserts precedence, and bespeaks control, 
 But borrows all its grandeur from the soul. 
 Here is the state, the splendour, and the throne, 
 An intellectual kingdom, all her own. 
 For her the Mem'ry fills her ample page 
 With truths pour'ddowh from ev'ry distant age^ 
 For her amasses an unbounded store, 
 The wisdom of great nations, now no more ; 
 Though laden, not encumber'd with her spoil ; 
 Laborious, yet unconscious of her toil ; ' 
 When copiously supplied, then most enlarg'd; 
 Still to be fed, and not to be surcharge 
 
164 TIROCINIUM : OR, A 
 
 .er the Fancy, roving unconfin'd, 
 j. he present muse of ev'ry pensive mind, 
 Works magic wonders, adds a brighter hue 
 To Nature's scenes than Nature ever knew. 
 At her command winds rise, and waters roar, 
 Again she lays them slumb'ring on the shore ; 
 With flow'r and fruit the wilderness supplies, 
 Or bids the rocks in ruder pomp arise. 
 For her the Judgment, umpire in the strife 
 That grace and Nature have to wage through life, 
 Quick-sighted arbiter of good and ill, 
 Appointed sage preceptor to the will, 
 Condemns, approves, and with a faithful voice 
 Guides the decision of a doubtful choice. 
 
 Why did the fiat of a God give birth 
 To yon fair Sun, and his attendant Earth ? 
 And when, descending, he resigns the skies, 
 Why takes the gentler Moon her turn to rise, 
 Whom Ocean feels through all his countless wave?, 
 And owns her pow'r on ev'ry shore he laves? 
 Why do the seasous still enrich the year, 
 Fruitful and young as in their first career ? 
 Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, 
 Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze ; 
 Summer in haste the thriving charge receives 
 Beneath the shade of her expanded leaves, 
 Till Autumn's fiercer heats and plenteous dew's 
 Die them at last in all their glowing hues— 
 'Twere wild profusion all, and bootless waste, 
 Tow'r misemploy'd, munificence misplac'd, 
 Had not its author dignified the plan, 
 And crown 'd it with the majesty of man. 
 Thus form'd, thus plae'd, intelligent, and taught, 
 Look where he will, the wonders God has wrought 
 The wildest scorner of his Maker's laws 
 Finds in a sober moment time to pause. 
 To press th' important question on his heart, 
 " Why form'd at all, and wherefore as thou art?" 
 If man be wliat he seems, this hour a slave, 
 The next mere dust and ashes in the grave j 
 
REVIEW OF SCHOOLS* Ifii 
 
 Sndu'd with reason only to descry 
 lis crimes and follies with an aching eye ; 
 IVith passions, just that he may prove, with pain, 
 Hie force he spends against their fury vain ; 
 knd if, soon after having burnt, by turns, 
 Vith ev'ry lust with which frail Nature burns, 
 lis being end where death dissolves the bond, 
 The tomb take all, and all be blank beyond; 
 Then he of all that Nature has brought forth, 
 itands sell" impeach 'd the creature of least worth, 
 Lnd useless while he Jives and when he dies, 
 brings into doubt the wisdom of the skies. 
 
 Truths, that the learn'd pursue with eager thought, 
 kre not important always as dear bought, 
 'roving at last, though told in pompous strains, 
 k childish waste of philosophic pains; 
 tut truths, on which depends our main concern, . 
 That 'tis our shame and misVy not to learn, 
 hine by the side of ev'ry path we tread 
 Vith such a lustre, he that runs may read. 
 I'is true, that if to trifle life away 
 )own to the sunset of their latest day, 
 
 hen perish on futurity's wide shore, 
 .ike fleeting exhalations, found no more, 
 y*ere all that Heav'n requir'd of human kind, 
 f.nd all the plan their destiny design 'd, 
 Vhat none could rev'renceall might justly blame, 
 Lnd man would breathe but for his Maker's shame, 
 tut reason heard, and nature well perus'd, 
 tt once the dreaming mind is disabus'd. 
 fall we find possessing earth, sea air, 
 Leflect his attributes who plac'd them there, 
 ulfil the purpose, and appear design 'd 
 roofs of the wisdom of th' all-seeing mind, 
 Tis plain the creature, whom he chose t' invest 
 Vith kingship and dominion o'er the rest, 
 leceiv'd his nobler nature, and was made 
 it for the pow'r in which he stands array'd ; 
 That first, or last, hereafter, if not here, 
 le too might make his author's wisdom elea- 
 
166 TIROCINIUM : OR, A 
 
 Praise him on Earth, or, obstinately dumb, 
 Suffer hisjusticein a world to come. 
 This once believ'd, 'twere logic misapplied, 
 To prove a consequence, by none denied, 
 That we are bound to cast the minds of youth 
 Betimes into the mould of heav'nly truth, 
 That taught of God they may indeed be wise*. 
 Nor, ignorantly wand'ring, miss the skies. 
 In early days the conscience has in most 
 A quickness, which in latter life is lost : . 
 Preserv'd from guilt by salutary fears, 
 Or guilty, soon relenting into tears* 
 Too careless often, as our years proceed, 
 What friends we sort with, or what books we readj. I 
 Our parents yet exert a prudent care, 
 To feed our infant minds with proper fare ; 
 And wisely store the nurs'ry by degrees 
 "With wholesome learning, yet acquir'd with ease. 
 Neatly secur'd from being soil'd or torn 
 Beneath a pane of thin translucent horn, 
 A book, (to please us at a tender age 
 'Tis call'd a book, though but a single page.) 
 Presents the pray'r the Saviour deign'd to teach, 
 Which children use. and parsons— when they preach* 
 Lisping our syllables, we scramble next 
 Through moral narrative, or sacred text ; 
 And learn with wonder how this world began, 
 Who made, who marr'd, and who has ransom'd, manv 
 Points which, unless the Scripture made them plain I 
 The wisest heads might agitate in vain. 
 
 thou, whom, borne on fancy's eager wing 
 Back to the season of life's happy spring, 
 
 1 pleas'd remember, and, while mero'ry yet 
 Holds fast hei office here, can ne'er forget ; 
 Ingenious dreamer, in whose well-told tale 
 Sweet fiction and sweet truth alike prevail ; 
 Whose hum'rous vein, strong sense, and simple style*/* 
 May teach the gayest, make the gravest smile ; 
 Witty, and well employ'd, and, like thy Lord, 
 Speaking in parables his slighted word; 
 
&EVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 161 
 
 i name thee not, lest so despis'd a name 
 
 Should move a sneer at thy deserved fame ; 
 
 Jfet e'en in transitory life's late day, 
 
 That mingles all my brown with sober gray, 
 
 Revere theman,jkvhose Pilgrim marks the road, 
 
 \nd guides the progress of the soul to God. 
 
 Twere well with most, if books, that could engage 
 
 Their childhood, pleas'd them at a riper age ; 
 
 The man approving what had charm'd the boy, 
 
 iVould die at last in comfort, peace, and joy ; 
 
 Vnd not with curses on his heart, who stole 
 
 The gem of truth from his unguarded soul. 
 
 The stamp of artless piety impressed 
 
 5y kind tuition on his yielding brfastj 
 
 The youth now bearded, and yet pert and raw, 
 
 legards with scorn, though once receiv'd with awe; 
 
 \nd, warp'd into the labyrinth of lies, 
 
 That babblers, call'd philosophers, devise, 
 
 Jlasphemes his creed, as founded on a plan 
 
 deplete with dreams unworthy of a man. 
 
 'ouch but his nature in its ailing part, 
 Isseit the native evil of his heart, 
 
 is pride resents the charge, although the proof*' 
 lise in his forehead, and seem rank enough ; 
 \)int to the cure, describe a Saviour's cross. 
 is God's expedient to retrieve his loss, 
 The young apostate sickens at tiie view, 
 knd hates it with the malice of a Jew. 
 
 How weak the barrier of mere Nature proves, 
 >ppos'd against the pleasures Nature loves .' 
 Vhile self-betray 'd, and wilfully undone, 
 >he longs to yield, no sooner woo'd than won* 
 Try now the merits of this blest exchange, 
 )f modest truth for wit's eccentric range, 
 rime was, he clos'd as he began the day 
 With decent duty, not asham'd to pray : 
 The practice was a bond upon his heart, 
 k pledge he gave for, a consistent part; 
 
 * Set.2Chron. ch. xxvj. ver, 19, 
 
168 TIROCINIUM: OR, A 
 
 Nor could he dare presumptuously displease 
 
 A pow'r coufess'd so lately on his knees. 
 
 But now farewell all legendary tales, 
 
 The shadows fly, philosophy prevails ; 
 
 Pray'r to the winds, and caution to the waves ; 
 
 Religion makes thee free by nature slaves ! 
 
 Priests have invented, and the world admir'd 
 
 What knavish priests promulgate as inspir'd; 
 
 Till Reason, now no longer overaw'd, 
 
 Resumes her pow'rs,and spurns the clumsy fraud. 
 
 And, common sense diffusing real day, 
 
 The meteor of the Gospel dies away. 
 
 Such rhapsodies our shrewd discerning youth 
 
 Learn from exper#inquirers after truth ; 
 
 Whose only care, might truth presume to speak, 
 
 Is not to find what they profess to seek. 
 
 And thus, wtll-tutor'd only while we share 
 
 A mother's lectures and a nurse's care ; 
 
 And taught at schools much mythologic stuff, * 
 
 But sound religion sparingly enough ; 
 
 Our early notices of truth, disgrae'd 
 
 Soon lose their credit, and are all effae'd. 
 
 Would you your son should be a sot or dunce, 
 .Lascivious, headstrong, or all these at once ; 
 That in good time the stripling's finish'd taste 
 For loose expense, and fashionable waste. 
 Should prove your ruin and his own at last ; 
 Train him in public with a mob of boys, 
 Childish in mischief only and in noise, 
 Else of a mannish growth, and five in ten 
 In infidelity and lewdness men. 
 There shall he learn, ere sixteen winters old, 
 That authors are most useful, pawn'd or sold ; 
 
 * The author begs leave to explain....Sensible the 
 ■without such knonvledge neither the ancient poets nt 
 historians can be tasted, or indeed understood, he doesm 
 mean to censure the pains that are taken to instruct < 
 school boy in the religion of the Heathen, but mere! 
 that neglect of Christian culture, -which leai's W 
 •hamrfully ignorant cf his on - n. 
 
REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. lot) 
 
 That pedantry is all that schools impart, 
 But taverns teach the knowledge of the heart ; 
 There waiter Dick, with Bacchanalian lays, 
 Shall win his heart, and have hi* drunken praise. 
 His counsel lor and bosom friend shall prove, 
 And some <treet-pacing harlot his first love. 
 Schools, unless discipline were doubly strong-;, 
 Detain their adolescent charge too long; 
 The management of tyroes of eighteen 
 Is difficult, their punishment obscene. 
 The stout tall captain, whose superior size 
 The minor heroes view with envious eyes, 
 Becomes their pattern, upon whom they fix 
 Their whole attention, and ape all his tricks. 
 His pride, that scorns t' obey or to submit, 
 With them is courage : his effrent'ry, wit. 
 His wild excursions, window-breaking feats, 
 Robb'ry of gardens, quarrels in the streets, 
 His hairbreadth 'scapes, and all his daring schemes. 
 Transport them, and are made their fav'rite themes- 
 In little bosoms such achievements strike 
 A kindred spark : they burn to do the like : 
 Thus half accomplish 'd ere he yet begin 
 To show the peeping down upon his chin; 
 And, as maturity of years comes on, 
 Made just tlf adept that you design'd your son; 
 T' ensure the perseverance of his course, 
 And give your monstrous project all its force, 
 Send him to college. If he there be tam'd, 
 Or in one article of vice recJaim'd, 
 Where no regard oTord 'nances is shown 
 Or look'd for now, the fault must be his own. 
 Some sneaking virtue lurks in him, no doubt, 
 Where neither strumpets' charms nor drinking bout, 
 Nor gambling practices, can find it out. 
 Such youths of spirit, and that spirit too, 
 *e urs'ries of our boys, we owe to you: 
 Though from ourselves the mischief more proceeds, 
 Ifcr public schools 'tis public lolly feeds. 
 VOL. II, H * 
 
TIIUX 1 MUM : OR, A 
 
 The slaves of custom and eslablish'd mode, 
 With patkhorse constancy we keep the road, 
 Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny del; 
 True to the jingling of our leader's hells. 
 To follow foolish precedents, and wink 
 With both our eyes, is easier than to think ; 
 And such an age as our's baulks no expense, 
 Except of caution, and of common sense ; 
 Else sure notorious fact and proof so plain, 
 Would turn our steps into a wiser train, 
 f blame not those who, with what care they can 
 O'envatch the num'rous and unruly clan ; 
 Or, if I blame, 'tis only that they dare 
 Promise a work, of which they must despair. 
 I lave ye, ye sage intendanta of the whole, 
 An ubiquarian presence and control*— 
 Hlisha's eye, that, when Gehazi stray 'd, 
 Went with him, and saw all the game he play'd I 
 \ rs— ye are conscious ; and on all the shelves 
 Vour pupils strike upon, have struck yourselves. 
 Or if, by nature sober, ye had then, 
 Roys as ye were, the gravity of men ; 
 i e knew at least, by constant proofs address \* 
 Vo ears and eyes, the vices of the $est. 
 But ye connive at what ye cannot cure, 
 And evils, not to be endur'd, endure,. 
 [.estpow'r exerted, but without success, 
 Should make the little ye retain still less, 
 Ye ©nee were justly fam'd for bringing foxth 
 Undoubted scholarship and genuine worth ; 
 And in the firmament of fame still shines 
 A glory, bright as that of all the signs, 
 Of p?»ets rais'd by you, and statesmen, and divines. 
 Pe ace to them all! those brilliant times are (ltd, 
 And no such lights are kindling in their stead. 
 Our striplings shine indeed, but with such rays, 
 As set the midnight riot in a blaze ; 
 And seem, if judg'd by their expressive looks, 
 Deeper in none than in their surgeons' books. 
 
 Say, muse, (for education made the song*, 
 No muse can hesitate, or linger long,) 
 
REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 
 
 What causes move us, knowing as we must, 
 That these menageries all tail their trust, 
 To send our sons to scout and scamper (here, 
 "Whije colts and puppies coat us so much cave ? 
 
 He it a weakness, it deserves some praise, 
 We love the play-place of our early days ; 
 The scene is touching, and the heart is stone 
 That feels not at that sight, and feels at none. 
 The wall on which we tried our graving skill, 
 The very name we carv'd subsisting still; 
 The bench on which we sat while deep employ'd, 
 Tho' mangled, hack'd, and hew'd, not yet destroy M 
 'J he little ones, unbutton'd, glowing hot, 
 Playing our games, and on the very spot ; 
 As happy as we once, to kneel and draw 
 The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw ;. 
 To pitch the ball into the grounded hat, 
 Or drive it devious with a dext'rous pat j 
 The pleasing spectacle at once excites. 
 Such recollection of our own delight:.. 
 That, viewing it, we seem almost t' obtain 
 fkir innocent sweet simple years again. 
 
 .is fond attachment to the well-known plaet 
 hence first we started into life's long race, 
 Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, 
 We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest day. 
 Hark! how the sire of chits, whose future share 
 Of classic food begins to be his care, 
 With his own likeness plac'd on either knee, 
 Indulges all a father's heart-felt glee; 
 And tells them, as he strokes their silver lock-. 
 That they must soon learn Latin. and to bo\ ; 
 Then turning, he regales his listning wife 
 With ail th' adventures of his early life ; 
 His skill in coachmanship, ar driving chaise. 
 In bilking tavern bills, and spouting pJaysj 
 What shifts he us'd, detected in a scrape, 
 How he was rloggM or had the luck t' escape ; 
 What sums he lost at play, and how he sold 
 Watch, seals, and all— till all his pranks are told, 
 
ITl TIROCINIUM: OK, A 
 
 Retracing thus h\s frolicks, ('tis a name 
 
 That palliates deeds of folly and of shame,) 
 
 He gives the local bias all its sway ; 
 
 Resolves that where he play'd his sons shall play, 
 
 And destines their bright genius to be shown 
 
 .Inst in the scene where he display'd his own. . 
 
 The meek and bashful boy will soon be taught, 
 
 To be as bold and forward as he ought ; 
 
 The rude will scuffle through with ease enough, 
 
 Great schools suit Best the sturdy and the rough. 
 
 Ah happy designation, prudent choice, 
 
 Th' < vent is sure ; expect it, and rejoice ! 
 
 Soon see your wish fulfill'd in either child— 
 
 The pert made perter, and the tame made wild. 
 
 The great, indeed, by titles, riches, birth, 
 Rxcus'd th' encumbrance of more solid worth, 
 Are best dispos'd of where with most success 
 lliey may acquire that confident address, 
 Those habits of profuse and lewd expense, 
 That scorn of all delights but those of sense, 
 Which though in plain plebeians we condemn 
 "With so much reason all expect from them. 
 But families of less illustrious fame, 
 "Whose chief distinction is their spotless name, 
 "Whose heirs, their honours none, their income small, 
 "lust shine by true desert or none at all, 
 What dream they of, that with so Hi tie care 
 They risk their hopes, their dearest treasure, there? 
 They dream of little Charles or William grae'd 
 With wig prolix, down flowing to his waist ; 
 Thty see th' attentive crowd his talents draw : 
 They hear him speak— the oracle of law. 
 Th> father, who designs his babe a priest, 
 Dreams him episcopally such at least; 
 And while the playful jockey scours the room 
 Briskly, astride upon the parlour broom, 
 In fancy sees him more superbly ride 
 In coach with purple lin'd, and mitres on its side. 
 Events improbable and strange as these, 
 Which only a parental eye foresees, 
 A public school shall bring to pass with ease. 
 
REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 173 
 
 But how ! Resides such virtue in that air, 
 
 As must create an appetite for pray'r ? 
 
 And will it breathe into him all the zeal, 
 
 That candidates for such a prize should feel, 
 
 To take the lead and be the foremost still 
 
 In all true worth and literary skill ? 
 
 " Ah, blind to bright futurity, untaught 
 
 " The knowledge of the World, and dull of thought ! 
 
 " Church-laddei3 are not always mounted best 
 
 * By learned clerks, and Latinists profess'd. 
 
 ''• Th' exalted prize demands an upward look , 
 
 w Not to be found by poring on a book. 
 
 '* Small skill in Lstin. and still less in Greek. 
 
 " Is more than adequate to all I seek. 
 
 " Let erudition grace him or not grace, 
 
 " I give the bauble but the second place; 
 
 " His wealth, fame, honours, all that I intend, 
 
 " Subsist and centre in one point— a friend. 
 
 * A friend, whate'er he studies or neglects, 
 
 " Shall give him consequence, heal all defects. 
 ' ; His intercourse with peers and sons of peers, 
 H There dawns the splendour of his future years: 
 4i In that bright quarter his propitious skies 
 '• Shall blush betimes, and there his glory rise. 
 " Ywr Lordship, and Tour Grace '. what school can teach 
 " A rhet'ric equal to those parts of speech! 
 ■ What need of Homer's verse, or Tully's prose, 
 *' Sweet interjections ! if he learn but those? 
 " Let rev'iend churls his ignorance rebuke, 
 * Who starv'd upon a dog's-ear'd Pentateuch, 
 " The parson knows enough, who knows a duke." 
 Egregious purpose ! worthily begun 
 InbarVrous prostitution of) our son; 
 Prearfd on his part by means that woulddisgraet 
 A scriv'nei's clerk, or footman out of place, 
 And ending, if at last its end be gaiu'd, 
 In sacrilege, in Gcd's own house profan'd! 
 It may succeed; and, if his sins should call 
 For more than common punishment, it shall; 
 The wretch shall rise, and be the thing on Earth 
 Least qualified in honour, learning, worth, 
 
17 '4 TIROCINIUM : OR, A 
 
 To occupy a sacred awful post, 
 
 Ii» which the best and worthiest tremble mostr 
 
 The royal letters are a thing of course, 
 
 A king, that would, might recommend his horse ; 
 
 And deans, no doubt, and chapters with one voice, 
 
 As bound in dt:ty, would confirm the choice. 
 
 Behold your bishop! well he plays his part, 
 
 Christian in name, and infidel in heart, 
 
 Ghostly in office, earthly in his plan, 
 
 A slave at court, elsewhere a lady's man. 
 
 Dumb as a senator, and as a priest 
 
 A piece of mere church furniture at best ; 
 
 To live estranged from God his total scope> 
 
 And his end sure, without one glimpse of hope. 
 
 Hut fair although and feasible it seem, 
 
 Depend not much upon yoisr golden dream : 
 
 For Providence, that seems concern 'd t' exempt 
 
 The hallow 'd bench from absolute contempt, 
 
 In spite of all the wrigglers into place, 
 
 Still keeps a seat or two for worth and grace ; 
 
 And therefore 'tis (hat though the sight be rare, 
 
 We «onietimes see a Lowth or Bagot there. 
 
 Besides, school-friendships are not always found, 
 
 Though fair in promise, peimanent and sound, 
 
 The most disinterested and virtuous minds, 
 
 In early years connected, time unbinds, 
 
 New situations give a different cast 
 
 Of habit, inclination, temper, taste ; 
 
 And he that seem'd our counterpart at first, 
 
 Soon shows the strong similitude revers'd. 
 
 Young heads are giddy and young hearts are warm, 
 
 And make mistakes for manhood to reform. 
 
 Boys are at best but pretty buds unblown, 
 
 Whose scent and hues are rather guess'd than known 
 
 Each dreams that each is just what he appears, 
 
 But learns his error in maturer years, 
 
 When disposition, like a sail unfurl'd, 
 
 Shows all its rents and patches to the World. 
 
 If, th. refore, e'en when honest in design, 
 
 A boyish friendship may so sooo decline, 
 
RfeVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 
 
 1 'were 'wiser sure t' inspire a little heart 
 With just abhorrence of so mean a part, 
 Than set your son to work at a vile trade 
 For wages so unlikely to be paid. 
 
 Our public hives of puerile resort, 
 That are of chief and most appvov'd report, 
 To such base hopes, in many a sordid soul, 
 Owe their repute in part, but not the whole. 
 A principle, whoso proud pretensions pass 
 Unquestion'd, though the jewel be but glass- 
 That with a world, not often over nice, 
 Ranks as a virtue and is yet a vice 5 
 Or rather a gross compound, justly tried, 
 Of envy, hatred, jealousy, and pride- 
 Contributes most perhaps t' enhance their fame" 
 And emulation is its specious name. 
 Boys, once on fire with that contentious zeal, 
 Feel all the rage that female rivals feel; 
 . The prize of beauty in a woman's eyes 
 * Not brighter than in their's the scholar's prize, 
 The spirit of that competition bums 
 With all varieties of ill by turns; 
 Each vainly magnifies his own success, 
 Resents his fellow's, wishes it were less, 
 Exults in his miscarriage if he fail, 
 Deems his reward too great if he prevail, 
 And labours to surpass him day and night, 
 Less for improvement than to tickle spite. 
 The spur is pow'rful, and I grant its force ; 
 It pricks the genius forward in its course, 
 Allows short time for play, and none for sloth ; 
 And, felt alike by each, advances both : 
 But judge, where so much evil intervenes, 
 The end, though plausible, not worth the means, 
 Weigh, for a moment, classical desert 
 Against a heart deprav'd and temper hurt ; 
 • lurt, too, perhaps, for life ; for early wrong, 
 Done to the nobler part, affects it long; 
 And you are staunch indeed in learning's cause, 
 If you can crown a discipline, that draws 
 Such mischiefs after it with much applausei 
 
l7o TIROCINIUM : OR, A 
 
 Connexion form'd for int'rest,and endear'u 
 By selfish views, thus censur'd and cashier'd : 
 And emulation, as engendering liate, 
 Doom'd to a no less ignominious fate: 
 The props of such proud seminaries fall, 
 The Jachi.n aud the Boaz of them all, 
 Great schools rejected then, as ihose that swell 
 Beyond a size that can be manag'd well, 
 Shall royal institutions miss the bays, 
 And small academies win all the praise ? 
 Farce not my drift beyond its just intent, 
 I praise a school as Pope a government ; 
 So take my judgment in his language dress'd, 
 " Whate'er is best administered is t\-st." 
 Few boys are born with talents that excel, 
 But all are capable of living well ; 
 Then ask not, Whether limited or large ? 
 But, Watch they strictly, or neglect their charge: 
 It anxious only, that their boys may learn, 
 While morals languish, a despis'd concern. 
 The great and small deserve one common blame. 
 Different in size, but in effect the same. 
 Much zeal in virtue's cause all teachers boast, 
 Though motives of mere lucre sway the most ; 
 Therefore in towns and cities they abound, 
 For there the game they seek is easiest found ; 
 Though there, in spite of all that care can do. 
 Traps to catch youth are most abundant too. 
 If shrewd, and of a well-constructed brain, 
 Keen in pursuit, and vig'rons to retain, 
 ■your son come forth a prodigy of skill; 
 As, wheresoever taught, so form'd he will ; 
 The pedagogue, with self-complacent air, 
 Claims more than half the praise as his due share 
 But if, with all his genius, he betray, 
 Not more intelligent than loose and gay, 
 Such virions habits as disgrace his name, 
 Threaten his health, his fortune, and his fame ; 
 Though want 01 due restraint alone have bred 
 The symptoms, that you see with so much dread : 
 
REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 
 
 Uuenvied there, he may sustain alone 
 
 The whole reproach, the fault was all his own 
 
 O 'tis a sight to be with joy perus'd, 
 By all whom sentiment has not abus'd ; 
 New-fangled sentiment, the boasted grace 
 Of those who never feci in the right place; 
 A sight surpassed by none that we can show, 
 -Though Vestiis on one leg still shine below ^ 
 A father blest with an ingenious son, 
 Father, and friend, and tutor, all in one ; 
 How !— turn again to tales long since forgot, 
 -Ssop. and Phajdrus, and the rest ?— Why not ;' 
 He will not blush, that has a father's heart, 
 To take in childish plajsa childish part; 
 But b^-nds his sturdy back to any toy 
 That youth takes pleasure in, to please his boy : 
 Then why resign into a stranger's hand 
 A task as much within your own command, 
 That God and nature, and your int'test too, 
 Seem with one voice to delegate to you ? 
 Why hire a lodging in a house unknown 
 For one, whose tend'rest thoughts all hove» rot 
 
 your own . ? 
 This second weaning, needless as it is, 
 How does it lac'rate both your heart and his ! 
 Th' indented stick, that loses day by day 
 Notch after notch, till all are smoothed away. 
 Bears witness, long ere his dismission come. 
 With what intense desire he wants his home. 
 But though the joys he hopes beneath your roof 
 Bid fair enough to answer in the p 
 Harmless, and safe, and natY::;. ; -. tfie; . 
 A disappointment waits him evfcll there : 
 Arriv'd, he ffeta an anexpi cted eha 
 He blttshes, hangs his head, is shy and sti 
 No longer takes, as once, with ft ariess case, 
 
 rite stand between his father' kj 
 But seeks th> corner of somedistai 
 And eyes the doer, and watches a ret 
 H2 
 
173 TIROCINIUM : OR, A 
 
 And, least familiar where he should be most, 
 
 Feels all his happiest privileges lost. 
 
 Alas, poor boy !— the natural effect 
 
 Of love by absence chi'.l'd into respect. 
 
 Say. what accomplishments, at school acquir'd, 
 
 Things he to sweeten fruits so undesir'd? 
 
 Thou well deserv'st an alienated son, 
 
 Unless thy conscious heart acknowledge— none ; 
 
 None that, in thy domestic snug recess, 
 
 He had not made his own with more address, 
 
 Though some, perhaps, that shock thy feeling 
 
 mind, 
 And better never learn'd, or left behind. 
 Add, too. that thus estrang'd, thou canst obtain 
 By no kind arts his confidence again ; 
 That here begins with most that long complaint 
 Of filial frankness lost, and love grown faint; 
 Which, oft neglected in life's waning years 
 A parent pours into regardless ears. 
 
 Lik-' caterpillars dangling under trees 
 By slender threads, and swinging in the breeze, 
 Which filthily bewray and sore disgrace 
 The boughs in which are bred th 1 unseemly race; 
 While ev'ry worm industriously weaves 
 And winds his web about the rivell'd leaves; 
 So num'rous are the follies that annoy 
 The mind ami heart of ev'ry sprightly boy ; 
 Imaginations noxious and perverse, 
 Which admonition can alone disperse. 
 Th' encroaching nuisance asks a faithful hand, 
 Patient, affectionate, of high command, 
 To check the procreation of a breed 
 Sure to exhaust the plant on which they feed. 
 'Tis not enough, that Greek or Roman page, 
 At stated hours, his freakish thoughts engage ; 
 E'en in his pastimes he requires a friend 
 To wain, and teach him safely to unbend ; 
 O'er all his pleasures gently to preside, 
 Watch his emotions, and control their tide; 
 
REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 179 
 
 And levying thus, and with an easy sway, •"* 
 
 A tax of profit from liis very play, 
 T' impress a value, not to be eras'd, 
 On moments squander'd else, and running all to waste. 
 And seems it nothing in a father's eye, 
 That unimprov'd those many moments fly? 
 And is he well content his son should find 
 No nourishment to feed his growing mind, 
 But conjugated verbs, and nouns declin'd ? 
 For such is all the mental food purvey'd 
 By public hacknies in the schooling trade; 
 Who feed a pupil's intellect with store 
 Of syntax, truly, but with little more; 
 Dismiss their cares, when they dismiss their flock, 
 Machines themselves, and govern'd by a clock. 
 Perhaps a father, blest with any brains, 
 Would deem it no abuse, or waste of pains, 
 T' improve this diet, at no great expense, 
 With sav'ry truth and wholesome common sense ; 
 To lead his son, for prospects of delight, 
 To some not steep, though philosophic, height, 
 Thence to exhibit to his wond'ring eyes 
 Yon circling worlds, their distance, and their size, 
 The moons of Jove, and Saturn's belted ball, 
 And the harmonious order of them all; 
 To show him in an insect or a flow'r 
 Such microcospic proof of skill and pow'r, 
 As, hid from ages past, God now displays, 
 To combat atheists with in modern days ; 
 To spread the Earth before him, and commend, 
 With designation of the fingers' end, 
 Its various parts to his attentive note, 
 Thus bringing home to him the most remote; 
 To teach his heart to glow with gen'rotw llame, 
 Caught from the deeds of men of ancient fame; 
 And, more than all, with commendation due, 
 To set some living worthy in his view, 
 Whose fair example may at once inspire 
 A wish to copy what he must ad' 
 
150 TIROCINIUM : OR, A 
 
 Such knowledge gain'd betimes, and which appears, J| 
 
 Though solid, not too weighty for his years, 
 
 Sweet in itself, and not forbidding sport, 
 
 When health demands it, of athletic sort, 
 
 "Would make him— what some lovely boys have been, 
 
 And more than one, perhaps, that I have seen— 
 
 An evidence and reprehension both 
 
 Of the mere school-boy's lean and tardy growth. 
 
 Art thou a man professionally tied. 
 With all thy faculties elsewhere applied, 
 Too busy to intend a meaner care, 
 Than how t' enrich thyself, and next thine heir ; 
 Or art thou ( as, though rich, perhaps thou art) 
 But poor in knowledge, having none t' impart •■■ 
 Behold that figure, neat, though plainly clad ; 
 His sprighty mingled with a shade of sad ; 
 Not of a nimble tongue, though now and then 
 Heard to articulate like other men ; 
 No jester, and yet lively in discourse, 
 His phrase well chosen, clear, and full of force ; 
 And his address, if not quite French in ease, 
 N'ot English stiff, but frank, and form'd to plea?e 
 Low in the World, because he scorns its arts; 
 A man of letters, manners, morals, parts ; 
 Unpatroniz'd, and therefore little known ; 
 Wise for himself and his few friends alone— 
 In him thy well-appointed proxy see, 
 Arm'd for a work too difficult for thee ; 
 Prepav'd by taste, by learning, and true wort?.. 
 To form thy son, to strike his genius forth ; 
 Beneath thy roof, beneath thine eye, to prove 
 The force of discipline when hack'd by love ; 
 To double all thy pleasure in thy child, 
 His mind informal, his morals undefil'd. 
 Safe under such a wing, the boy shall show 
 No spots contracted among grooms below, 
 Nor taint his. speech with meannesses design'd 
 By footman Tom for witty and refiVd. 
 
REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 
 
 There, in his commerce with the liv'ried herd, 
 
 Lurks the contagion chiefly to befear'd ; 
 
 For since, (so fashion dictates,) all who claim 
 
 An higher than a mere plebeian fame, 
 
 Find it expedient, come if hat mischief may, 
 
 To entertain a thief or t vo in pay, 
 
 (And they that can afford th' expense of more, 
 
 Some half a dozen, and some half a score,) 
 
 Great cause occurs, to save him from a band 
 
 So sure to spoil him, and so near at hand ; 
 
 A point secur'd, if once he he supplied 
 
 "With some such Mentor always at his side. 
 
 Are such men rare ? perhaps they would abound , 
 
 Were occupation easier to be found, 
 
 Were education, else so sure to fail, 
 
 Conducted on a manageable scale, 
 
 And schools, that have outliv'd all just esteem, 
 
 Hxchang'd for the secure domestic scheme.— 
 
 But, having found him, be thou duke or earl, 
 
 Show thou hast sense enough to prize the pearl, 
 
 And, as thou wouldst th' advancement of thine heii 
 
 In all good faculties beneath his care, 
 
 Respect, as is but rational and just, 
 
 A man deem'd worthy of so dear a trust. 
 
 Despis'd by thee, what more can he expect 
 
 from youthful folly than the same neglect i 
 
 A flat and fatal negative obtains, 
 
 That instant, upon all his future pains; 
 
 '• lis lessons tire, his mild rebukes offend, 
 
 And all th' instructions of thy son's best friend 
 
 Aro a stream chok'd,or trickling to no end. 
 
 Doom him not then to solitary meals ; 
 
 But recollect that he has sense, and feels ; 
 
 And that, possessor of a soul refin'd, 
 
 An upright heart and cultivated mind, 
 
 His post not mean, his talents not unknown. 
 
 He deems it hard to vegetate alone. 
 
 And, if admitted at thy board he sit, 
 
 Account him no just mark of idle wit ; 
 
282 TIROCINIUM: OR, A 
 
 Offend not him, whom modesty restrains 
 From repartee, with jokes that he disdains ; 
 Much less transfix his feelings with an oath; 
 Nor frown, unless he vanish with the cloth.— 
 And, trust me, his utility may reach 
 To more than lie is hir'd or bound to teach ; 
 Much trash unutter'dVand some ills undone, 
 Through rev'renee of the censor of thy son. 
 
 But, if thy table be indeed unclean, 
 Foul with excess, and with discourse obscene, 
 And thou a wretch, whom, foll'wing her old plan, 
 The World accounts an honourable man, 
 Because forsooth thy courage has been tried 
 And stood the test, perhaps on the wrong side ; 
 Though thou hadst never grace enough to prove 
 That any thing but vice could win thy love ;— 
 Or hast thou a polite, card-playing wife, 
 Chain'd to the routs that she frequents for life ; 
 Who, just when industry begins to snore, 
 flies, wing'd with .joy, to some coach-crowded dooi : 
 And thrice in ev'ry winter throngs thine own 
 With half the chariots and sedans in town, 
 Thyself meanwhile e'en shifting as thou mayst ; 
 Not very sober though not very chaste ; 
 Or is thine house, though less superb thy rank, 
 If not a scene of pleasure, a mere blank, 
 And thou at best, and in thy sob'rest mood, 
 A trifler, vain and empty of all good ; 
 Though mercy for thyself thou canst have none, 
 Hear Nature plead, show mercy to thy son. 
 Sav'd from his home, where ev'ry day brings forth 
 Some mischief fatal to his future worth, 
 Find him a better in a distant spot, 
 Within some pious pastor's humble cot, 
 Where vile example, (yours I chiefly mean, 
 The most seducing, and the oft'nest seen,) 
 May never more be stamp'd upon his breast, 
 Not yet perhaps incurably impress'd. 
 Where early rest makes early rising sure, 
 Disease or comes not, or finds easy cur*.', 
 
REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 1 S3 
 
 Prevented mueli by diet neat and plain ; 
 
 Or, if it enter, soon starv'd out again: 
 
 Where all th' attention of his faithful host, 
 
 Discreetly limited to two at most, 
 
 May raise such fruits as shall reward his care, 
 
 And not at last evaporate in air ; 
 
 Where, stillness aiding study, and his mind 
 
 Serene, and to his duties much inclinM, 
 
 Not occupied in day-dreams, as at home, 
 
 Of pleasures past, or follies yet to come, 
 
 His virtuous toil may terminate at last 
 
 In settled habit and decided taste.— 
 
 But whom do I advise? the fashion led, 
 
 Th' incorrigibly wrong, the deaf, the dead, 
 
 Whom care and cool deliberation suit 
 
 Not better much than spectacles a brute ; 
 
 Who, if their sons some slight tuition share, 
 
 Deem it of no great moment whose, or where; 
 
 Too proud t' adopt the thoughts of one unknown, 
 
 And much too gay t' have any of their own. 
 
 But courage, man ! methought the muse replied, 
 
 Mankind are various, and the World is wide : 
 
 The ostrich, silliest of the feather'd kind, 
 
 And form'd of God without a parent's mind, 
 
 Commits her eggs, incautious, to the dust, 
 
 Forgetful that the foot may crush the trust ; 
 
 And, while on public nurs'ries they rely, 
 
 Not knowing, and too oft not caring, why, 
 
 Irrational in what they thus prefer, 
 
 No few, that would seem wise, resemble her. 
 
 But all are not alike. Thy warning voice 
 
 May here and there prevent erroneous choice ; 
 
 And some perhaps, who, busy as they are, 
 
 Yet make their progeny their dearest care, 
 
 (Whose hearts will ache, once told what ills may 
 
 reach 
 Their offspring, left upon so wild a beach,) 
 Will need no stress of argument t' enforce 
 Th' expedience of a less advent 'rous course; 
 
IM TIROCINIUM: OR, A 
 
 The rest will slight thy counsel, or condemn , 
 But t'uey have human feelings— turn to them. 
 
 To you then, tenants of life's middle state, 
 Securely plac'd between the small and great, 
 Whose character, yet undebauch'd retains 
 Two thirds of all the virtue that remains, 
 "Who wise yourselves, desire your son should learn 
 Your wisdom and your ways— to you I turn. 
 Look round you on a World perversely blind ; 
 See what contempt is fall'n on humankind ; 
 See wealth abus'd, and dignities misplac'd, 
 Great titles, offices, and trusts disgrae'd, 
 Long lines of ancestry, renown'd of old, 
 Their noble qualities all quench'd and cold ; 
 See Bedlam's closetted and hand-cuff 'd charge 
 Surpassed in frenzy by the mad at large ; 
 See great commanders making war a trade, 
 Great lawyers, lawyers without study made : 
 Churchmen, in whose esteem their blest employ 
 Is odious, and their wages all their joy ; 
 Who, far enough from furnishing their shelves 
 With gospel lore, turn infidels themselves ; 
 3ee womanhood despis'd. and manhood sham'd 
 With infamy too nauseous to be nam'd, 
 Fops at all corners, lady-like in mien, 
 Civeted fellows, smelt ere they are seen, 
 Else coarse and rude in manners, and their tongue 
 On fire with curses, and with nonsense hung, 
 Now rlush'd s»ith drunk'nness, now with whoredom 
 
 pale, 
 Their breath a sample of last night's regale ; 
 See volunteers in all the vilest arts, 
 Men well endow'd, of honourable parts, 
 Design'd by Nature wise, but self-made fools; 
 All these, and more like these, -were bred at school?. 
 And if it chance, as sometimes chance it will, 
 That though school-bred the boy be virtuous still" 
 Such rare exceptions, shining in the dark, 
 Prove, rathir than impeach, the just remark: 
 As here and there a twinkling star descried^ 
 Serves bat t<i show how black is a!! beside. 
 
REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. ISS 
 
 Now look on him, whose very voice in tone 
 Just echoes thine, whose features are thine own, 
 And stroke his polish'd cheek of purest red, 
 And lay thine hand upon his flaxen head, 
 And say, My boy, th' unwelcome hour is come, 
 When thou, transplanted from thy genial home, 
 Must find a colder soil and bleaker air, 
 And trust for safety te a stranger's care ; 
 What character, what turn thou wilt assume 
 From constant converse with I know not whom; 
 Who there will court thy friendship, with what views, 
 And, artless as thou art, whom thou wilt choose . 
 Though much depends on what thy choice shall bo, 
 Is all chance-medley, and unknown to me. 
 Canst thou, the tear just trembling on thy lids, 
 And while the dreadful risk foreseen forbids; 
 Free too, and under no constraining force, 
 Unless the sway of custom warp thy course ; / 
 Lay such a stake upon the losing side, 
 Merely to gratify so blind a guide ? 
 Thou canst not ! Nature, pulling at thine heart, 
 Condemns th' unfatherly, th' imprudent part. 
 Thou wouldst not, deaf to Nature's tend'rest plea, 
 Turn him adrift upon a rolling sea, 
 Nor say, Go thither, conscious that there lay 
 A brood of asps or quicksands in his way ; 
 Then, only govern'd by the self-same rule 
 Of nat'ral pity, send him not to school. 
 No— guard him better. Is he not thine own, 
 Thyself in miniature, thy flesh, thy bone ? 
 And hop'st thou not, ('tis ev'ry father's hope,} 
 That since thy strength must with thy years efc 
 And thou wilt need some comfort, to assuage 
 Health's last farewell a staff of thine old age, 
 That then, in recompense of all thy cares, 
 Thy child shall show respect to thy gray hairs, 
 Befriend thee, of all other friends bereft, 
 And give thy life its only cordial left .' 
 Aware then how much Danger intervenes, 
 To compass that good end, forecast the means, 
 
TIROCINIUM, &.fi. 
 
 His heart, now passive, yields to thy command 
 Secure it thine, its key is in thine hand. 
 If thou desert thy charge, and throw it wide, 
 Nor heed what guests there enter and abide, 
 Complain not if attachment lewd and base 
 Supplant thee in it, and usurp thy place. 
 But, if thou guard its sacred chambers sure 
 From vitious inmates and delights impure, 
 Either his gratitude shall hold him fast, 
 And keep him warm and filial to the last; 
 Or, if he prove unkind, (as who can say 
 But, being man, and therefore frail, he may .'. 
 One comfort yet shall cheer thine aged heart, 
 Howe'er he slight thee, thou hast done thy part. 
 
 O barb'rous .' wouldst thou with a Gothic hand 
 p u 11 down the schools--what .'—all th' schools i' 
 
 land ; 
 Or throw them up to liv'ry nags and grooms, 
 Or turn them into shops and auction rooms ? 
 A captious question, sir, (and yours is one,) 
 Deserves an answer similar or none. 
 "Wouldst thou, possessor of a nock, employ, 
 (Appiis'd that he is such,) a careless boy, 
 And feed him well, anil give him handsome pay, 
 Merely to sleep, and let them run astray: 
 Survey our schools and colleges, and sec 
 A sight not much unlike my simile. 
 From education, as the leading cause, 
 The public character its colour draws ; 
 TiiLiiee Die prevailing manners take their cast, 
 Extravagant or sober, loose or chaste. 
 And . though I would not advertise them yet, 
 Nor write on each— This building to be lit, 
 Unless the World were all prepar'd t' embrace- 
 A plan well worthy to supply their place ; 
 Yet, backward as they are, and long have been. 
 To cultivate and keep the morals clean, 
 (Forgive the crime,) I wish them, I confess, 
 Or better raanag'd, or encourag'd less. 
 
TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON. 
 
 I 
 
 AN INVITATION INTO THE COUNTRY, 
 
 I. 
 
 THE swallows in their torpid state 
 Compose their useft'ss wing, 
 
 And bees in hives as idly wait 
 The call of early Spring. 
 
 II. 
 
 The keenest frost that binds the stream, 
 The wildest wind that blows, 
 
 Are neither felt nor fear'd by theni, 
 Secure of their repose. 
 
 III. 
 
 But man, all feeling and awake, 
 
 The gloomy scene surveys; 
 With present ills his heart must ache, 
 
 And pant for brighter days. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Old Winter, halting o'er the mead, 
 
 Bids me and Mary mourn ; 
 But lovely Spring peeps o'er his head, 
 
 And whispers your return. 
 
 V. 
 
 Then April with her sister May, 
 Shall chase him from the huw'rs, 
 
 And weave fresh garlaiiii* ev'ry day, 
 To crown the smiling hou 
 
TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON. 
 VI. 
 
 And if" a tear, that speaks regret 
 
 O. happier tinuft, appear, 
 A g):mpse Df joy^ chat we have met, 
 
 Shall shine and dry the tear. 
 
( 189 ) 
 
 Ou the receipt of my Matters Picture out of Norfolk, 
 the gift of my coiirin Ann Bodham. 
 
 O THAT those lips hod language ! Life has pass'd 
 With me but roughly si..ce I heard thee last. 
 Those lips are thine— thy own sweet smile I see, 
 The same, that oft in childhood solae'd me ; 
 Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, 
 " Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away !" 
 The meek intelligence of those dearveyes, 
 (Blest be the art that can immortalize, 
 The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim 
 To quench it,) here shines on me still the same 
 
 Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, 
 
 welcome guest, though unexpected here ! 
 
 . Who bidd'st me honour with an artless song, 
 Affectionate, a mother lost so long. 
 
 1 will obey, not willingly alone, 
 
 But gladly, as the precept were her own : 
 And, while that face renews my filial grief, 
 Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, 
 Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, 
 A momentary dream, that thou art she. 
 
 My mother ! when I learn'd that thou wast dead, 
 Say, wast thou conscious of the tears 1 shed ? 
 Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorr'wing sen. 
 Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ? 
 Perhaps thou gav'st me, thougA unfelt, a kiss ; 
 Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss— 
 Ah. that maternal smile ! it answers— Yes, 
 
<J0 ON THE RECEIPT OF 
 
 T heard the bell toll'd on thy burial day, 
 
 1 saw the hearse, that bore thee slow away, 
 
 And, turning from my nurs'ry window, drew 
 
 A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! 
 
 But was it stieh?=r-It was.— Where art thou gont 
 
 Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. 
 
 May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, 
 
 The parting word shall pass my lips no more ! 
 
 Thy maidens, griev'd themselves at my concern, 
 
 Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. 
 
 What ardently I wish'd, I long btliev'd, 
 
 And disappointed still, was still deceiv'cJ. 
 
 By expectation ev'ry day beguil'd 
 
 Dupe of to-morrow even from a child. 
 
 Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, 
 
 Till all my stock of infant sorrow spent, 
 
 I leavn'd at last submission to my lot, 
 
 /Jut though I less deplor'd thee, ne'er forgot. 
 
 Where once we dwelt our name is heard no mort 
 Children not thine have trod thy nurs'ry floor; 
 And where the gard'ner, Robin, day by day, 
 Drew me to school ajong the public way, 
 Delighted with rr>y bauble coach, and wrapp'd 
 In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet cap, 
 Tis now become a hist'ry little known, 
 That once we call'd the past'ral house our own. 
 shovt-liv'd possession ! but the record fair, 
 that mem'ry keeps of all thy kindness there, 
 Still outlives man]! a storm, that has eftac'd 
 A thousand other themes less deeply trac'd. 
 Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, 
 That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid 
 
 t ung bounties ere I left my home, 
 The biscuit, or confectionary plum 
 rhe fragrant waters on my cheeks bestow'd 
 .By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowM: 
 \i! this., and more endearing still than all, 
 onstajjiE flow of love, that knew no fa!!. 
 
MY MOTHER'S PICTURE. 
 
 er roughen'd by those cataracts and breaks 
 jat humour interpos'd too often makes ; 
 Ad this still legible in mern'ry's page, 
 And still to be so to my latest age, 
 Adds jay to diity, makes me glad to pay 
 Such honours to thee as my numbers may : 
 Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere, 
 Not seoin'd in Heav'n, though little notie'd here. 
 
 Could Time, his flight revers'd, restore the hours^ 
 When, playing with thy vesture's tissu'd ilow'rs, 
 The vioiet, the pink, and jessamine, - 
 I pricked them into paper with a pin, 
 (And thou wast happier than myself the while, 
 "Wbuldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile.. 
 Could those few pleasant days again appear, 
 Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here : 
 I would not trust my heart— the dear delight 
 .Seems so to be desir'd, pe.haps I might— 
 But no— *hat here we call, our life is such. 
 So little to be lov'el, and thou so much, 
 That I should ill requite thee to constrain 
 Thy unbound spirit into bonds again, 
 
 Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast, 
 'The storms all weather'd and the ocean crossed. 
 Shoots into port at some well-haven'd isle, 
 Where spices breathe, and blighter seasons smile, 
 There sits quiescent on the floods that show 
 Her beauteous form reflected clear below, 
 While airs impregnated with incense play 
 Around her, fanning light her streamers gay; 
 So thou, with sails how swift ! hast reach'd the shcr.°. 
 
 Where tempests n<-ver beat nor billows roar,"* 
 And thy lov'd consort on the dang'rous I 
 Of lift long since has anchor'd by thy hide. 
 But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest, 
 Always from port withheld, always distvegs 
 
192 ON THE RECEIPT, &c. 
 
 Me howling blast^s chive devious, tempest-tossM, 
 Sails ripp'dj seams op'ning wide, and compass lost 
 And day bj day some current's thwarting force 
 Sets me more distant from a prosp'rous course. 
 Yet O the thought, that thou art safe, and he ! 
 That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. 
 My boast is not, that I deduce my birth 
 From loins enthron'd, and rulers of the Earth ; - 
 But higher far my proud pretensions rist — 
 The son of parents pass'd into the skies. 
 And now farewell— Time unrevoked has run 
 His wonted course, yet what I wish'd is done, 
 By contemplation's help, not sought in vain, 
 I seein'd t' have liv'd my childhood o'er again; 
 To have renew VI the joys that once were mine, 
 Without tin' sin of violating thine: 
 And while the wings of Fancy sf ill are free, 
 And I can view this mimic show of thee, 
 Time has but half succeeded in his theft— 
 Thyself remtfr'd, thy pow'r to sooth me left. 
 
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