Thefe here difporting own the kindred foil, Nor afk luxuriance from the planter's toil; While fea-born gales their gelid wings expand

To winnow fragrance round the smiling land.
But fmall the blifs that fenfe alone beftows,
And fenfual blifs is all this nation knows.
In florid beauty groves and fields appear,
Man feems the only growth that dwindles

here.

Contrafted faults through all his manners reign ;

Though poor, luxurious; though fubmiffive, vain;

Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet

untrue;

And ev'n in penance planning fins anew.
All evils here contaminate the mind,
That opulence departed leaves behind;
For wealth was theirs, not far remov'd the
date,

When commerce proudly flourish'd through the state:

At her command the palace learnt to rife, Again the long-fall'n column fought the skies;

The

B 3

The canvafs glow'd beyond e'en nature warm, The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form.

Till, more unsteady than the fouthern gale, Commerce on other fhores difplay'd her fale; While nought remain'd of all that riches gave,

But towns unmann'd, and lords without a flave :

And late the nation found with fruitless skill Its former ftrength was but plethoric ill.

Yet ftill the lofs of wealth is here supplied By arts, the fplendid wrecks of former pride; From these the feeble heart and long-fall'n mind,

An eafy compenfation feem to find.
Here may be seen in bloodless pomp array'd,
The pafte-board triumph and the cavalcade ;
Proceffions form'd for piety and love,

A mistress or a faint in every grove.
By sports like these are all their cares be-
guil'd,

The fports of children fatisfy the child; Each nobler aim repreft by long controu!, Now finks at laft, or feebly mans the foul While

;

While low delights, fucceeding faft behind,
In happier meanness occupy the mind :
As in those domes, where Cæfars once bore
fway,

Defac'd by time and tottering in decay,
Amidst the ruin, heedlefs of the dead,
The shelter-fecking peasant builds his shed,
And, wond'ring man could want the larger
pile,

Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.

My foul turn from them, turn me to furvey Where rougher climes a nobler race display, Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread,

And force a churlish foil for fcanty bread ;
No product here the barren hills afford,
But man and steel, the foldier and his fword.
No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,
But winter ling'ring chills the lap of May;
No zephyr fondly fues the mountain's breast,
But meteors glare, and ftormy glooms in-
veft.

Yet ftill, even here, Content can fpread a charm, Redrefs the clime, and all its rage difarm.

Though

Though poor the peafant's hut, his feafts though small,

He fees his little lot the lot of all;
Sees no contiguous palace rear its head
To fhame the meannefs of his humble fhed;
No coftly lord the fumptuous banquet deal
To make him loathe his vegetable meal;
But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,
Each with contracting, fits him to the foil,
Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repose,
Breasts the keen air, and carols as he goes;
With patient angle trolls the finny deep,
Or drives his vent'rous plough-fhare to the

steep;

Or feeks the den where fnow-tracks mark the way,

And drags the struggling favage into day.
At night returning, every labcur fped,
He fits him down the monarch of a fhed;
Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round furveys
His children's looks, that brighten at the
blaze;

While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard, Displays her cleanly platter on the board :

And

And haply too fome pilgrim, thither led, With many a tale repays the nightly bed. Thus every good his native wilds-im part,

Imprints the patriot paffion on his heart, And even thofe hills, that round his manfion rife,

Enhance the blifs his fcanty fund fupplies, Dear is that shed to which his foul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the ftorms.

And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, Clings clofe and closer to the mother's breast; So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,

But bind him to his native mountains more. Such are the charms to barren states af

C

fign'd:

Their wants but few, their wishes all con fin'd.

Yet let them only share the praises due, If few their wants, their pleasures are but few ;

For every want that ftimulates the breast, Becomes a fource of pleasure when redreft. Whence