'Tis love like his, that can alone defeat The foes of man, or make a desert sweet. Religion does not censure or exclude Unnumbered pleasures harmlessly pursued; To study culture, and with artful toil To meliorate and tame the stubborn soil; To give dissimilar yet fruitful lands
The grain, or herb, or plant, that each demands; To cherish virtue in an humble state,
And share the joys your bounty may create; To mark the matchless workings of the power, That shuts within its seed the future flower, Bids these in elegance of form excel,
In colour these, and those delight the smell, Sends nature forth the daughter of the skies, To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes; To teach the canvass innocent deceit, Or lay the landscape on the snowy sheet- These, these are arts pursued without a crime, That leave no stain upon the wing of time. Me poetry (or rather notes that aim Feebly and vainly at poetic fame)
Employs, shut out from more important views, Fast by the banks of the slow winding Ouse; Content if thus sequestered I may raises ... A monitor's, though not a poet's praise, And while I teach an art too little known, To close life wisely, may not waste my own..
TITHİNG-TIME AT STOCK IN ESSEX.
Verses addressed to a Country Clergyman complaining of the disagreeableness of the day annually appointed forreceiving the Daes at the Parsonage.
COME, ponder well, for 'tis no jest, To laugh it would be wrong, The troubles of a worthy priest The burden of my song.
This priest he merry is and blithe Three quarters of the year, But oh! it cuts him like a sithe, When tithing-time draws near.
He then is full of fright and fears, As one at point to die, And long before the day appears He heaves up many á sigh.
For then the farmers come jog, jog,
Along the miry road,
Each heart as heavy as a log,
To make their payments good.
In sooth, the sorrow of such days Is not to be expressed,
When he that takes and he that
Are both alike distressed.
Now all unwelcome at bis gates The clumsy swains alight, With rueful faces and bald pates→→→→ He trembles at the sight.
And well he may, for well he knows Each bumpkin of the clan, Instead of paying what he owes, Will cheat him if he can.
So in they come each makes his leg, And flings his head before, And looks as if he came to beg,
And not to quit a score.
And how does miss and madam do,
The little boy and all??
• All tight and well. And how do you,
'Good Mr. What-d'ye-call?
The dinner comes, and down they sit: Were ever such hungry folk? There's little talking, and no wit; It is no time to joke.
One wipes his nose upon his sleeve, One spits upon the floor,
Yet, not to give offence or grievë, Holds up the cloth before.
The punch goes round, and they are dull And lumpish still as ever;
Like barrels with their bellies full, They only weigh the heavier.
At length the busy time begins, "Come neighbours we must wag—' The money chinks, down drop their chins, Each lugging out his bag.
One talks of mildew and of frost, And one of storms of hail, And one of pigs, that he has lost By maggots at the tail.
In pulpit none shall hear:
But yet, methinks, to tell you true,
"You sell it plaguy dear.'
Oh, why are farmers made so coarse,
Or clergy made so fine!
A kick that scarce would move a horse, May kill a sound divine.
Then let the boobies stay at home; 'Twould cost him, I dare say, Less trouble taking twice the sum, Without the clowns that pay.
On his emphatical and interesting. Delivery of the Defence of WARREN HASTINGS, Esq. in the House of Lords.
CowPER, whose silver voice, tasked some Legends prolix delivers in the ears (Attentive when thou readest) of England's peers, -Let verse at length yield thee thy just reward. Thou wast not heard with drowsy disregard, Expending late on all that length of plea Thy generous powers, but silence honoured thee Mute as ever gazed an Orator or Bard. Thou art not voice alone, but hast beside
Both heart and head; andcouldst with music sweet Of Attic phrase and senatorial tone, Like thy renowned forefathers, far and wide Thy fame diffuse, praised not for utterance meet Of others' speech, but magic of thy own.
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