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THE

T A S K.

BOOK IV.

ARGUMENT of the FOURTH BOOK.

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The poft comes in.-The news-paper is read.-The world contemplated at a distance. Address to Winter. The rural amusements of a winter evening compared with the fashionable ones.-Address to evening.-A brown ftudy.-Fall of Snow in the evening. The waggoner.-A poor family piece.The rural thief.-Public houfes.-The multitude of them cenfured.-The farmer's daughter, what She was.-What she is.-The fimplicity of country manners almoft loft.-Causes of the change.-DeJertion of the country by the rich.-Neglect of magiftrates.-The militia principally in fault.-The new recruit and his transformation.-Reflection on bodies corporate. The love of rural objects natural to all, and never to be totally extinguished.

THE

TAS K.

BOOK IV.

THE WINTER EVENING.

HARK! 'tis the twanging horn! o'er yonder

bridge

That with its wearifome but needful length
Beftrides the wintry flood, in which the moon
Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright;
He comes, the herald of a noify world,
With spatter'd boots, strapp'd waist, and frozen
locks,

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 deftin'd inn,

"

And having dropp'd th' expected bag—pass on.

F 5

Ha

He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,
Cold and yet chearful: messenger of grief
Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some,
To him indiff'rent whether grief or joy.
Houses in afhes, and the fall of stocks,
Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet
With tears, that trickled down the writers' cheeks,
Faft as the periods from his fluent quill,

Or charg'd with am'rous fighs of abfent fwains,
Or nymphs refponfive, equally affect

His horfe and him, unconfcious of them all.
But oh th' important budget! ufher'd in
With fuch heart-fhaking mufic, who can fay
What are its tidings? have our troops awak'd?
Or do they still, as if with opium drugg'd,
Snore to the murmurs of th' Atlantic wave?
Is India free? and does fhe wear her plum'd
And jewell'd turban with a smile of
peace,
Or do we grind her stilll? 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 fet th' imprifon'd wranglers free,
And give them voice and utt'rance once again.
Now ftir the fire, and clofe the fhutters faft,
Let fall the curtains, wheel the fofa round,
And, while the bubbling and loud hiffing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups,

That

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