And to the ftir of commerce, driving flow, And thund'ring 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, hofpitable, kind,
And undebauch'd. But we have bid farewel
To all the virtues of those better days,
And all their honeft pleasures. Manfions once
Knew their own masters, and laborious hinds,
Who had furviv'd the father, ferv'd the fon.
Now the legitimate and rightful Lord
Is but a tranfient gueft, newly arriv'd,
And foon to be fupplanted. He that faw
His patrimonial timber caft its leaf,
Sells the last scantling, and transfers the price
To fome fhrewd fharper, ere it buds again.
Eftates are landscapes, gaz'd upon awhile,
Then advertis'd, and auctioneer'd away.
The country starves, and they that feed th' o'er-
charg❜d
And furfeited lewd town with her fair dues,
By a juft judgment strip and starve themselves.
The wings that waft our riches out of fight
Grow on the gamefter's elbows, and th' alert
And nimble motion of those restless joints,
That never tire, foon fans them all away.
Improvement too, the idol of the age,
F
Is fed with many a victim.
The omnipotent magician, Brown, appears.
Down falls the venerable pile, th' abode
Of our forefathers, a grave whisker'd race,
But taftelefs. Springs a palace in its stead,
But in a distant fpot; where more expos'd,
It may enjoy th' advantage of the north,
And aguish eaft, till time fhall have transform'd
Thofe naked acres to a fhelt'ring grove.
He speaks. The lake in front becomes a lawn,
Woods vanish, hills fubfide, and vallies rife,
And streams, as if created for his use,
Pursue the tract of his directing wand,
Sinuous or straight, now rapid and now flow,
Now murm'ring foft, now roaring in cafcades,
Ev'n as he bids. The enraptur'd owner fmiles.
'Tis finish'd; and yet, finish'd as it feems,
Still wants a grace, the lovelieft it could show,
A mine to fatisfy th' enormous coft.
Drain'd to the last poor item of his wealth,
He fighs, departs, and leaves th' accomplish'd
That he has touch'd, retouch'd, many a long day Labour'd, and many a night purfu'd in dreams, Just when it meets his hopes, and proves the
He wanted, for a wealthier to enjoy.
And now perhaps the glorious hour is come, When, having no stake left, no pledge t' endear
Her int'refts, or that gives her facred cause
A moment's operation on his love,
He burns with most intense and flagrant zeal
To ferve his country. Minifterial grace
Deals him out money from the public cheft,
Or, if that mine be faut, fome private purse
Supplies his need with an usurious loan,
To be refunded duly, when his vote,
Well-manag'd, fhall have earn'd its worthy price.
Oh innocent, compar'd with arts like these,
Crape and cock'd pistol, and the whistling ball
Sent through the trav'ller's temples! He that
finds
One drop of heav'ns fweet mercy in his cup,
Can dig, beg, rot, and perifh well-content,
So he may wrap himself in honest rags
At his last gafp; but could not for a world
Fish up his dirty and dependant bread
From pools and ditches of the commonwealth,
Sordid and fick❜ning at his own fuccefs,
Ambition, av'rice, penury incurr'd
By endless riot; vanity, the luft
Of pleasure and variety, dispatch,
As duly as the swallows difappear,
The world of wand'ring knights and fquires to
London ingulphs them all. The fhark is there,
And the shark's prey; the spendthrift, and the
That fucks him. There the fycophant, and he
Who, with bare-headed and obfequious bows,
Begs a warm office, doom'd to a cold jail,
And groat per diem, if his patron frown.
The levee fwarms, as if, in golden pomp,
Were character'd on ev'ry statesman's door,
"BATTER'd AND BANRRUPT FORTUNES MENDED HERE."
These are the charms that fully and eclipse
The charms of nature. "Tis the cruel gripe
The lean hard-handed poverty inflicts,
The hope of better things, the chance to win,
The wish to fhine, the thirst to be amus'd,
That at the found of Winter's hoary wing,
Unpeople all our counties, of fuch herds
Of flutt'ring, loit'ring, cringing, begging, loofe
And wanton vagrants, as make London, vast
And boundless as it is, a crowded coop.
Oh thou, refort and mart of all the earth,
Chequer'd with all complexions of mankind,
And fpotted with all crimes; in whom I fee
Much that I love, and more that I admire,
And all that I abhor; thou freckled fair,
That pleases and yet shocks me, I can laugh,
And I can weep, can hope, and can despond,
Feel wrath and pity, when I think on thee!
Ten righteous would have fav'd a city once,
And thou haft many righteous.-Well for thee-
That falt preserves thee; more corrupted elfe,
And therefore more obnoxious at this hour,
Than Sodom in her day had pow'r to be,
For whom God heard his Abr'am plead in vain.
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