But verging to decline, its splendours rise,
Its viftas ftrike, its palaces surprise;
While, fcourg'd by famine from the fmiling land,
The mournful peafant leads his humble band;
And while he finks, without one arm to save,
The country blooms-a garden, and a grave.
Where then, ah! where fhall poverty refide,
To 'fcape the preffure of contiguous pride?
If to fome common's fenceless limits stray'd,
He drives his flock to pick the fcanty blade,
Thofe fenceless fields the fons of wealth divide,
And even the bare-worn common is deny'd.
If to the city fped-What waits him there?
To fee profufion that he must not fhare;
To fee ten thousand baneful arts combin'd
To pamper luxury, and thin mankind;
To fee each joy the fons of pleasure know
Extorted from his fellow creature's woe.
Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade,
There the pale artift plies the fickly trade;
Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomps
difplay,
There the black gibbet glooms befide the way.
The dome where pleafure holds her midnight
Here, richly deck'd, admits the gorgeous train ;. Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare.
Sure scenes like these no troubles ere annoy!
Sure these denote one univerfal joy!
Are these thy ferious thoughts?-Ah! turn thine
Where the poor houseless fhiv'ring female lies.
She once, perhaps, in village plenty bleft,
Has wept at tales of innocence distrest;
Her modeft looks the cottage might adorn,
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn;
Now loft to all; her friends, her virtue fled,
Near her betrayer's door fhe lays her head,
And, pinch'd with cold and fhrinking from the show'r,
With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour,
When idly firft, ambitious of the town,
She left her wheel, and robes of country brown.
Do thine, fweet AUBURN, thine, the lovelieft train,
Do thy fair tribes participate her pain?
Ev'n now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led,
At proud mens doors they afk a little bread!
Ah, no. To diftant climes, a dreary scene,
Where half the convex world intrudes between,
Through torrid tracks with fainting steps they go
Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe.
Far different there from all that charm'd before,
The various terrors of that horrid shore;
Thofe blazing funs, that dart a downward ray,
And fiercely fed intolerable day;
Thofe matted woods, where birds forget to fing,
But filent bats in drowfy clusters cling;
Those pois'nous fields, with rank luxuriance crown'd,
Where the dark scorpion gathers death around;
Where at each step the stranger fears to wake
The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake;
Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey,
And savage men more murd'rous still than they;
While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies,
Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the fkies.
Far different thefe from every former scene,
The cooling brook, the graffy vested green,
The breezy covert of the warbling grove,
That only shelter'd thefts of harmless love.
Good Heav'n! what forrows gloom'd that part
That call'd them from their native walks
When the poor exiles ev'ry pleasure past,
Hung round the bowers, and fondly look'd their
And took a long farewel, and wifh'd in vain
For feats like these beyond the western main ;-
And fhudd'ring still to face the distant deep,
Return'd and wept, and still return'd to weep..
The good old fire, the first prepar'd to go
To new-found worlds, and wept for other's woe,.
But for himself, in confcious virtue brave,
He only wifh'd for worlds beyond the grave.
His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears,
The fond companion of his helpless years,
Silent went next, neglectful of her charms,
And left a lover's for a father's arms.
With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes,
And bleft the cot where ev'ry pleasure rofe;
And kift her thoughtless babes with many a tear,
And clafpt them clofe, in forrow doubly dear;
While her fond husband ftrove to lend relief
In all the filent manliness of grief.
O luxury! thou curft by heaven's decree,
How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee!
How do thy potions, with infidious joy,
Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy!
Kingdoms by thee, to fickly greatness grown,
Boast of a florid vigour not their own.
At ev'ry draught more large and large they grow,
A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe;
Till fapp'd their strength, and ev'ry part unfound, Down, down they fink, and fpread a ruin round.
Ev'n now the devastation is begun, And half the business of deftruction done; Ev'n now, methinks, as pond'ring here I ftand, I fee the rural virtues leave the land.
Down where yon anch'ring veffel fpreads the
That idly waiting flaps with ev'ry gale,
Downward they move, a melancholy band,
Pass from the fhore, and darken all the strand;
Contented toil, and hospitable care,
And kind connubial tenderness are there;
And piety, with wishes plac'd above;
And steady loyalty, and faithful love.
And thou, fweet Poetry! thou loveliest maid,
Still first to fly where fenfual joys invade;
Unfit in these degen'rate times of shame,
To catch the heart or strike for honest fame;
Dear charming nymph! neglected and decry'd;
My fhame in crowds, my folitary pride.
Thou fource of all my bliss, and all my woe,
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'ft me
Thou guide, by which the nobler arts excel,
Thou nurfe of ev'ry virtue fare thee well;
Farewell! and, O! where'er thy voice be try'd,
On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's fide,
Whether where equinoctial fervours glow,
Or winter wraps the polar world in snow,
Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,
Redress the rigours of th' inclement clime:
Aid flighted truth, with thy perfuafive ftrain;_
Teach erring man to fpurn the rage of gain;
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