Just when the day declin'd: and the brown loaf
Lodg'd on the shelf half eaten without sauce
Of sav'ry cheese, or butter, costlier still;
Sleep seems their only refuge for, alas!
Where penury is felt the thought is chain'd,
And sweet colloquial pleasures are but few!
With all this thrift they thrive not. All the care,
Ingenious Parsimony takes, but just

Saves the small inventory, bed, and stool,
Skillet, and old carv'd chest, from publick sale.
They live, and live without extorted alms

From grudging hands: but other boast have none,
To sooth their honest pride, that scorns to beg,
Nor comfort else, but in their mutual love.
I praise you much, ye meek and patient pair,
For ye are worthy; choosing rather far
A dry but independent crust, hard earn'd,
And eaten with a sigh, than to endure
The rugged frowns and insolent rebuffs
Of knaves in office, partial in the work
Of distribution; lib'ral of their aid
To clam'rous Importunity in rags,

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But ofttimes deaf to suppliants, who would blush 415
To wear a tatter'd garb, however coarse,

Whom famine cannot reconcile to filth:

These ask with painful shyness, and, refus'd

Because deserving, silently retire !

But be ye of good courage! Time itself

420

Shall much befriend you. Time shall give increase;

And all your numerous progeny, well train'd,
But helpless, in few years shall find their hands,
And labour too. Meanwhile ye shall not want
What, conscious of your virtues, we can spare,
Nor what a wealthier than ourselves may send.
I mean the man, who, when the distant poor
Need help, denies them nothing but his name.
But poverty with most, who whimper forth
Their long complaints, is self-inflicted wo;

425

The effect of laziness or sottish waste..
Now goes the nightly thief prowling abroad
For plunder; much solicitous how best
He may compensate for a day of sloth
By works of darkness and nocturnal wrong.
Wo to the gard'ner's pale, the farmer's hedge,
Plash'd neatly, and secur'd with driven stakes
Deep in the loamy bank. Uptorn by strength,
Resistless in so bad a cause, but lame
To better deeds, he bundles up the spoil,
An ass's burden, and, when laden most
And heaviest, light of foot, steals fast away
Nor does the bordered hovel better guard
The well-stack'd pile of riven logs and roots
From his pernicious force. Nor will he leave
Unwrench'd the door, however well secur'd,
Where Chanticleer amidst his haram sleeps
In unsuspecting pomp. Twitch'd from the perch,
He gives the princely bird, with all his wives,
To his voracious bag, struggling in vain,

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And loudly wond'ring at the sudden change.

Nor this to feed his own. "Twere some excuse

Did pity of their suff'rings warp aside

His principle, and tempt him into sin

For their support, so destitute. But they
Neglected, pine at home; themselves, as more
Expos'd than others, with less scruple made
His victims, robb'd of their defenceless all.
Cruel is all he does. 'Tis quenchless thirst
Of ruinous ebriety, that prompts
His ev'ry action, and imbrutes the man.
O for a law to noose the villain's neck
Who starves his own; who persecutes the blood
He gave them in his children's veins, and hates
And wrongs the woman he has sworn to love!

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Pass where we may, through city or through town,

Village or hamlet, of this merry land,
Though lean and beggar'd, every twentieth pace

Conducts th' unguarded nose to such a whiff
Of stale debauch, forth-issuing from the sties
That law has licens'd, as makes Temp'rance reel.
There sit, involv'd and lost in curling clouds
Of Indian fume, and guzzling deep, the boor,
The lackey, and the groom; the craftsman there
Takes a Lethean leave of all his toil;
Smith, cobbler, joiner, he that plies the shears,
And he that kneads the dough; all loud alike,
All learned and all drunk! the fiddle screams
Plaintive and piteous, as it wept and wail'd
Its wasted tones and harmony unheard,

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Fierce the dispute, whate'er the theme; while she,
Fell Discord, arbitress of such debate,

Perch'd on the signpost, holds with even hand
Her undecisive scales. In this she lays

A weight of ignorance; in that, of pride;
And smiles delighted with the eternal poise.
Dire is the frequent curse, and its twin sound,
The cheek distending oath, not to be prais'd

485

As ornamental, musical, polite,

Like those which modern senators employ,

490

Whose oath is rhet'rick, and who swear for fame!
Behold the schools, in which plebeian minds,

Once simple, are initiated in arts

Which some may practise with politer grace,

But none with readier skill!-'Tis here they learn
The road that leads from competence and peace
To indigence and rapine; till at last
Society, grown weary of the load,

496

Shakes her encumber'd lap, and casts them out.

But censure profits little; vain th' attempt
To advertise in verse a publick pest,

500

That, like the filth with which the peasant feeds
His hungry acres, stinks, and is of use.

Th' excise is fatten'd with the rich result

Of all this riot; and ten thousand casks,
For ever dribbling out their base contents,

505

Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state,

Bleed gold for ministers to sport away.
Drink, and be mad then; 'tis your country bids!
Gloriously drunk, obey th' important call!

Her cause demands th' assistance of your throats;
Ye all can swallow, and she asks no more.
Would I had fall'n upon those happier days
That poets celebrate: those golden times,
And those Arcadian scenes that Maro sings,
And Sidney, warbler of poetick prose.
Nymphs were Dianas then, and swains had hearts
That felt their virtues: Innocence, it seems,

From courts dismiss'd, found shelter in the groves;
The footsteps of simplicity, impress'd

Upon the yielding herbage, (so they sing.)

Then were not all effac'd; then speech profane,
And manners profligate, were rarely found,

Observ'd as prodigies, and soon reclaim'd.

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Vain wish those days were never; airy dreams 525 Sat for the picture: and the poet's hand,

Imparting substance to an empty shade,

Impos'd a gay delirium for a truth.

Grant it: I still must envy them an age

That favour'd such a dream: in days like these
Impossible when Virtue is so scarce,

530

That to suppose a scene where she presides
Is tramontane, and stumbles all belief.

No: we are polish'd now.
Whom once her virgin modesty and grace,
Her artless manners, and her neat attire,

The rural lass,

535

So dignified, that she was hardly less
Than the fair shepherdess of old romance,
Is seen no more. The character is lost!
Her head, adorn'd with lappets pinn'd aloft,
And ribands streaming gay, superbly rais'd,
And magnified beyond all human size,
Indebted to some smart wig-weaver's hand
For more than half the tresses it sustains:

540

Her elbows ruffled, and her tott'ring form

545

Ill propp'd upon French heels; she might be deem'd (But that the basket dangling on her arm

Interprets her more truly) of a rank

Too proud for dairy work, or sale of eggs-
Expect her soon with footboy at her heels,
No longer blushing for her awkward load,
Her train and her umbrella all her care!

550

The town has ting'd the country; and the stain Appears a spot upon a vestal's robe,

The worse for what it soils. The fashion runs

555

Down into scenes still rural; but, alas,

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Scenes rarely grac'd with rural manners now!
Time was when in the pastoral retreat
Th' unguarded door was safe; men did not watch
T' invade another's right, or guard their own.
Then sleep was undisturb'd by fear, unscar'd
By drunken howlings; and the chilling tale
Of midnight murder was a wonder heard
With doubtful credit, told to frighten babes.
But farewell now to unsuspicious nights,
And slumbers unalarm'd! Now, ere you sleep,
See that your polish'd arms be prim'd with care,
And drop the night-bolt ;-ruffians are abroad;
And the first larum of the cock's shrill throat
May prove a trumpet, summoning your ear
To horrid sounds of hostile feet within.
E'en daylight has its dangers; and the walk
Through pathless wastes and woods, unconscious once
Of other tenants than melodious birds,
Or harmless flocks, is hazardous and bold.
Lamented change! to which full many a cause
Invet'rate, hopeless of a cure, conspires.
The course of human things from good to ill,
From ill to worse, is fatal, never fails.

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Increase of pow'r begets increase of wealth;
Wealth luxury, and luxury excess;

580

Excess, the scrofulous and itchy plague,