Her mingled fuits and sequences, and fits
Spectatrefs both and fpectacle, a fad
And filent cypher, while her proxy plays.
Others are dragg'd into the crowded room
Between fupporters; and once feated, fit
Through downright inability to rise,
"Till the ftout bearers lift the corple again.
These speak a loud memento.
Themselves love life, and cling to it, as he
That overhangs a torrent, to a twig.
They love it, and yet loath it; fear to die,
Yet fcorn the purposes for which they live.
Then wherefore not renounce them? No-the dread, The flavish dread of folitude, that breeds
Reflection and remorfe, the fear of shame,
And their invet'rate habits, all forbid.
Whom call we gay? That honor has been long The boast of mere pretenders to the name.
The innocent are gay the lark is gay
That dries his feathers faturate with dew
Beneath the rofy cloud, while yet the beams
Of day-spring overfhoot his humble neft.
The peasant too, a witnefs of his fong,
Himself a fongfter, is as gay as he.
But fave me from the gaiety of those
Whose head-aches nail them to a noon-day bed;
And fave me too from theirs whofe haggard eyes
Flash desperation, and betray their
pangs
For property ftripp'd off by cruel chance;
From gaiety that fills the bones with pain,
The mouth with blafphemy, the heart with woe.
The earth was made fo various, that the mind
Of defultory man, ftudious of change,
And pleas'd with novelty, might be indulged.
Prospects however lovely may be feen
'Till half their beauties fade; the weary fight,
Too well acquainted with their smiles, flides off
Faftidious, feeking lefs familiar fcenes.
Then fnug inclofures in the fhelter'd vale,
Where frequent hedges intercept the eye,
Delight us, happy to renounce a while,
Not fenfeless of its charms, what ftill we love,
That fuch fhort absence may endear it more.
Then forefts, or the favage rock may please,
That hides the fea-mew in his hollow clefts
Above the reach of man: his hoary head
Confpicuous 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 fhrubs he shows,
And at his feet, the baffled billows die.
The common overgrown with fern, and rough
With prickly gofs, that shapeless and deform
And dang❜rous to the touch, has yet its bloom
And decks itself with ornaments of gold,
Yields no unpleafing ramble; there the turf
Smells fresh, and rich in odorif'rous herbs
And fungous fruits of earth, regales the fenfe
With luxury of unexpected fweets.
There often wanders one, whom better days
Saw better clad, in cloak of fattin trimm'd
With lace, and hat with splendid ribband bound.
A ferving maid was fhe, and fell in love
With one who left her, went to sea and died.
Her fancy followed him through foaming waves
To distant fhores, and fhe would fit and weep
At what a failor fuffers; fancy too
Delusive moft 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 fmil'd again. And now she roams
The dreary wafte; there fpends the livelong day,
And 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 ftill; and both but ill conceal
A bofom heaved with never-ceafing fighs.
She begs an idle pin of all fhe meets,
And hoards them in her fleeve; but needful food,
Though prefs'd with hunger oft, or comelier cloaths,
Though pinch'd with cold, afks never.--Kate is craz❜d.
I fee a column of flow-rifing fmoke
O'ertop the lofty wood that fkirts the wild.
A vagabond and useless tribe there eat
Their miferable meal. A kettle flung
Between two poles upon a stick transverse,
Receives the morfel; flefh obfcene of dog,
Or vermin, or at beft, of cock purloin'd
From his accuftom'd perch. Hard-faring race!
They pick their fuel out of ev'ry hedge,
Which kindled with dry leaves, juft faves unquench'd
The fpark of life. The fportive wind blows wide
Their flutt'ring rags, and fhows a tawny skin,
The vellum of the pedigree they claim.
|