For ever dribbling out their base contents,
Touched by the Midas finger of the state,
Bleed gold for minifters to sport away.
Drink, and be mad then; 'tis your country bids!
Gloriously drunk obey the important call!
Her caufe demands the affiftance of your throats ;-
Ye all can fwallow, and the asks no more.
Would I had fallen upon those happier days,
That poets celebrate; those golden times,
And thofe Arcadian scenes, that Maro fings,
And Sidney, warbler of poetic profe.
Nymphs were Dianas then, and swains had hearts,
That felt their virtues: innocence, it seems,
From courts difmiffed, found shelter in the groves;
The footsteps of fimplicity, impreffed
Upon the yielding herbage, (so they fing)
Then were not all effaced: then speech profane,
And manners profligate, were rarely found;
Obferved as prodigies, and foon reclaimed.
Vain with! those days were never: airy dreams
Sat for the picture: and the poet's hand,
Imparting fubftance to an empty fhade,
Imposed a gay delirium for a truth.
Grant it: I still muft envy them an age,
That favoured fuch a dream; in days like these
Impoffible, when virtue is fo fcarce,
That to fuppofe a fcene where the prefides,
Is tramontane, and ftumbles all belief.
No: we are polished now. The rural lass,
Whom once her virgin modefty and grace,
Her artless manners, and her neat attire,
So dignified, that fhe was hardly lefs
Than the fair fhepherdefs of old romance,
Is feen no more. The character is loft!
Her head, adorned with lappets pinned aloft,
And ribbands ftreaming gay, fuperbly raised,
And magnified beyond all human fize,
Indebted to fome smart wig-weaver's hand
For more than half the treffes it fuftains;
Her elbows ruffled, and her tottering form
Ill propped upon French heels; the might be deemed
(But that the basket dangling on her arm
Interprets her more truly) of a rank
Too proud for dairy work, or fale of eggs.
Expect her foon with foot-boy at her heels,
No longer blufhing for her awkward load,
Her train and her umbrella all her care!
The town has tinged the country; and the stain Appears a fpot upon a veftal's robe,
The worfe for what it foils.
Down into scenes ftill rural; but alas,
Scenes rarely graced with rural manners now!
Time was when in the pastoral retreat
The unguarded door was fafe; men did not watch
To invade another's right, or guard their own.
Then fleep was undisturbed by fear, unscared
By drunken howlings; and the chilling tale
Of midnight murder was a wonder heard
With doubtful credit, told to frighten babes.
But farewell now to unfuspicious nights,
And flumbers unalarmed! Now, ere you sleep,
See that your polished arms be primed with care,
And drop the night-bolt;-ruffians are abroad;
And the first larum of the cock's fhrill throat
May prove a trumpet, fummoning your ear
To horrid founds of hoftile feet within.
Ev'n daylight has its dangers; and the walk
Through pathlefs waftes and woods, unconfcious
Of other tenants than melodious birds,
Or harmless flocks, is hazardous and bold.
Lamented change! to which full many a cause
Inveterate, hopeless of a cure, confpires.
The course of human things from good to ill,
From ill to worse, is fatal, never fails.
Increase of power begets increase of wealth;
Wealth luxury, and luxury excefs;
Excefs, the fcrofulous and itchy plague,
That feizes firft the opulent, defcends
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 licence of the lowest in degree,
Defert their office; and themselves, intent
On pleasure, haunt the capital, and thus
To all the violence of lawless hands
Refign the scenes, their presence might protect.
Authority herself not seldom fleeps,
Though refident, and witness of the wrong.
The plump convivial parfon often bears
The magifterial sword in vain, and lays
His reverence and his worship both to rest
On the fame cushion of habitual floth.
Perhaps timidity reftrains his arm;
When he should strike he trembles, and fets free,
Himself enslaved by terror of the band,
The audacious convict, whom he dares not bind.
Perhaps, though by profeffion ghoftly pure,
He too may have his vice, and sometimes prove
Lefs dainty than becomes his grave outfide
In lucrative 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 touched
Corruption. Whoso seeks an audit here
Propitious, pays his tribute, game or fish,
Wild fowl or venifon; and his errand speeds.
But fafter far, and more than all the rest,
A noble cause, which none, who bears a spark
Of public virtue, ever wished removed,
Works the deplored and mischievous effect.
'Tis univerfal foldiership has ftabbed
The heart of merit in the meaner class.
Arms, through the vanity and brainless rage
Of those that bear them, in whatever cause,
Seem most at variance with all moral good,
And imcompatible with serious thought.
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