Thy simple fare, and all thy plain delights,
As dear to thee as once? And have thy joys
Lost nothing by comparison with our's?
Rude as thou art, (for wè return'd thee rude
And ignorant, except of outward show)
I cannot think thee yet so dull of heart
And spiritless, as never to regret
Sweets tasted here, and left as soon as known.
Methinks I see thee straying on the beach,
And asking of the surge that bathes thy foot.
If ever it has wash'd our distant shore.

I see thee weep, and thine are honest tears,
A patriot's for his country: thou art sad
At thought of her forlorn and abject state,
From which no power of thine can raise her up.
Thus fancy paints thee, and, though apt to err,
Perhaps errs little when she paints thee thus.
She tells me, too, that duly every morn
Thou climb st the mountain top, with eager eye
Exploring far and wide the watery waste
For sight of ship from England. Every speck
Seen in the dim horizon turns thee pale
With conflict of contending hopes and fears.
But comes at last the dull and dusky eve,
And sends thee to thy cabin, well prepar'd
To dream all night of what the day denied.
Alas! expect it not. We found no bait
To tempt us in thy country. Doing good,
Disinterested good, is not our trade.
We travel far, 'tis true, but not for nought;-
And must be brib'd, to compass earth again,
By other hopes, and richer fruits, than your's.

650

655

660

665

670

675

But, though true worth and virtue in the mild And genial soil of cultivated life

Thrive most, and may perhaps thrive only there;

680

Yet not in cities oft: in proud and gay

And gain-devoted cities. Thither flow,

As to a common and most noisome sewer,

The dregs and feculence of every land.
In cities foul example on most minds

685

Begets its likeness. Rank abundance breeds

In gross and pamper'd cities sloth and lust,
And wantonness and gluttonous excess.
In cities vice is hidden with most ease,

Or seen with least reproach; and virtue, taught

690.

By frequent lapse, can hope no triumph there
Beyond the atchievement of successful flight.

I do confess them nurseries of the arts,

In which they flourish most; where, in the beams

Of warm encouragement, and in the eye

695,

Of public note, they reach their perfect size.

Such London is, by taste and wealth proclaim'd
The fairest capital of all the world;

By riot and incontinence the worst.

There, touch'd by Reynolds, a dull blank becomes

700

A lucid mirror, in which Nature sees

All her reflected features. Bacon there

Gives more than female beauty to a stone,

And Chatham's eloquence to marble lips.
Nor does the chissel occupy alone

705

The powers of sculpture, but the style as much;

Each province of her art her equal care.
With nice incision of her guided, steel

She ploughs a brazen field, and cloathes a soil
So sterile with what charms so'er she will,
The richest scenery and the lovliest forms..
Where finds philosophy her eagle eye,
With which she gazes at yon burning disk
Undazzled, and detects and counts his spots ?
In London: where her implements exact,

710

715

With which she calculates, computes, and scans,
All distance, motion, magnitude, and now
Measures an atom, and now girds a world?

In London. Where has commerce such a mart,.

So rich, so throng'd, so drain'd, and so supplied,
As London-opulent, enlarg'd, and still
Increasing London? Babylon of old

720

Not more the glory of the earth than she,

A more accomplish'd world's chief glory now.

She has her praise. Now mark a spot or two,

725

That so much beauty would do well to purge;

And show this queen of cities, that so fair

May yet be foul; so witty, yet not wise.

It is not seemly, nor of good report,

That she is slack in discipline; more prompt

730

To avenge, than to prevent, the breach of law;

That she is rigid in denouncing death

On petty robbers, and indulges life

And liberty, and oft-times honour too,

To peculators of the public gold;

735

That thieves at home must hang; but he, that puts

Into his overgorg'd and bloated purse

The wealth of Indian provinces, escapes.
Nor it is well, nor can it come to good,
That, through profane and infidel contempt
Of holy writ, she has presum'd to annul
And abrogate, as roundly as she may,
The total ordinance and will of God;
Advancing fashion to the post of truth,
And centering all authority in modes
And customs of her own, till sabbath rites
Have dwindled into unrespected forms,

And knees and hassocs are well-nigh divorc'd.

God made the country, and man made the town.
What wonder then that health and virtue, gifts
That can alone make sweet the bitter draught
That life holds out to all, should most abound,
And least be threaten'd, in the fields and groves?
Possess ye, therefore, ye, who, borne about
In chariots and sedans, know no fatigue
But that of idleness, and taste no scenes
But such as art contrives, possess ye still
Your element; there only can ye shine;
There only minds like your's can do no harm.
Our groves were planted to console at noon
The pensive wanderer in their shades.
The moon-beam, sliding softly in between
The sleeping leaves, is all the light they wish;
Birds warbling all the music. We can spare
The splendour of your lamps; they but eclipse
Our softer satellite. Your songs confound

At eve

740

745

750

755

760

765

Our more harmonious notes: the thrush departs
Scar'd, and the offended nightingale is mute.
There is a public mischief in your mirth;

770

It plagues your country. Folly such as your's,
Grac'd with a sword, and worthier of a fan,
Has made, what enemies could ne'er have done,
Our arch of empire, stedfast but for you,
A mutilated structure, soon to fall.

ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND BOOK. Reflections suggested by the conclusion of the former book.-Peace among the nations recommended, on the ground of their common fellowship in sorrow. Prodigies enumerated.-Sicilian earthquakes.-Man rendered obnoxious to these calamitses by sin.-God the agent in them. -The philosophy that stops at secondary causes reproved. Our own late miscarriages accounted for.-Satirical nolice taken of our trips to Fountainbleau.-But the pulpit, not satire, the proper engine of reformation.-The Reverend Advertiser of engraved sermons.-Petit-maitre parson. The good preacher.-Pictures of a theatrical clerical coxcomb. Story-tellers and jesters in the pulpit reproved.-Apostrophe to popular applause.-Retailers of ancient philosophy expostulated with.-Sum of the whole matter.-Effects of sacerdotal mismanagement on the laity. Their folly and extravagance.The mischiefs of profusion.-Profusion itself, with all its consequent evils, ascribed, as to its principal cause, to the want of discipline in the universities.