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That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Not fuch his evening, who with shining face
Sweats in the crowded theatre, and fqueez'd
And bor'd with elbow-points through both his
fides,

Out-fcolds the ranting actor on the stage.
Nor his, who patient ftands till his feet throb,
And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath
Of patriots, bursting with heroic rage,
Or placemen, all tranquility and fmiles.
This folio of four pages, happy work!
Which not ev'n critics criticife; that holds
Inquifitive attention, while I read,

Fast bound in chains of filence, which the fair,
Though eloquent themfelves, yet fear to break;
What is it but a map of bufy life,

Its fluctuations, and its vaft concerns?
Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge
That tempts ambition. On the fummit, fee,
The feals of office glitter in his eyes;

He climbs, he pants, he grafps them. At his heels,

Close at his heels, a demagogue afcends,

And with a dext'rous jerk foon twifts him down, And wins them, but to lose them in his turn.

Here rills of oily eloquence, in foft

Meanders lubricate the course they take;

The

The modest speaker is afham'd and griev❜d
T'engross a moment's notice, and yet begs,
Begs a propitious ear for his poor thoughts,
However trivial all that he conceives.

Sweet bashfulness! it claims, at least, this praise ;
The dearth of information and good sense
That it foretells us, always comes to pass.
Cataracts of declamation thunder here,
There forefts of no meaning fpread the page,
In which all comprehenfion wanders loft;
While fields of pleasantry amuse us there,
With merry descants on a nation's woes.
The reft appears a wilderness of strange
But gay confufion; roses for the cheeks,
And lilies for the brows of faded age,
Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald,
Heav'n, earth, and ocean plunder'd of their
fweets,

Nectareous effences, Olympian dews,
Sermons and city feasts, and fav'rite airs,
Æthereal journies, fubmarine exploits,
And Katterfelto, with his hair on end
At his own wonders, wond'ring for his bread.
'Tis pleasant through the loop-holes of retreat

To peep at fuch a world; to fee the ftir

Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd;
To hear the roar fhe fends through all her gates,

At

At a safe distance, where the dying found
Falls a foft murmur on th' uninjur'd ear.
Thus fitting, and furveying thus at ease
The globe and its concerns, I feem advanc'd
To fome fecure and more than mortal height,
That lib'rates and exempts me from them all.
It turns fubmitted to my view, turns round
With all its generations; I behold

The tumult, and am ftill. The found of war
Has loft its terrors ere it reaches me;

Grieves, but alarms me not. I mourn the pride
And av'rice that make man a wolf to man,
Hear the faint echo of those brazen throats
By which he speaks the language of his heart,
And figh, but never tremble at the found.
He travels and expatiates, as the bee

From flow'r to flow'r, fo he from land to land;
The manners, cuftoms, policy of all,
Pay contribution to the store he gleans;
He fucks intelligence in ev'ry clime,

And spreads the honey of his deep research
At his return, a rich repast for me :

He travels, and I too. I tread his deck,
Afcend his top-maft, through his peering eyes
Discover countries, with a kindred heart
Suffer his woes, and fhare in his escapes;
While fancy, like the finger of a clock,
Runs the great circuit, and is still at home.

Oh

Oh Winter! ruler of th' inverted year,
Thy scatter'd hair with fleet like afhes fill'd,

Thy breath congeal'd upon thy lips, thy cheeks
Fring'd with a beard made white with other fnows
Than those of age; thy forehead wrapt in clouds,
A leafless branch thy fceptre, and thy throne
A fliding car, indebted to no wheels,
But urg'd by ftorms along its flipp'ry way;
I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st,
And dreaded as thou art. Thou hold'ft the fun

A pris'ner in the yet undawning East,
Short'ning his journey between morn and noon,
And hurrying him, impatient of his stay,
Down to the rofy Weft; but kindly still
Compenfating his lofs with added hours
Of focial converse and inftructive ease,
And gathering at fhort notice, in one group,
The family difpers'd, and fixing thought,
Not lefs difpers'd by day-light and its cares.
I crown thee King of intimate delights,
Fire-fide enjoyments, home-born happiness,
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undisturb'd retirement, and the hours
Of long uninterrupted evening, know.
No ratt'ling wheels ftop fhort before thefe gates;
No powder'd pert proficient in the art
Of founding an alarm, affaults these doors
Till the street rings; no ftationary steeds

Cough

Cough their own knell, while heedless of the

found,

The filent circle fan themfelves and quake:
But here the needle plies its busy task,
The pattern grows, the well depicted flow'r,
Wrought patiently into the fnowy lawn,
Unfolds its bofom; buds, and leaves, and sprigs,
And curling tendrils, gracefully difpos'd,
Follow the nimble finger of the fair;

A wreath that cannot fade, of flow'rs that blow
With most fuccefs when all befides decay.
The poet's or hiftorian's page, by one
Made vocal for th' amusement of the reft;

The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet founds
The touch from many a trembling chord shakes

out;

And the clear voice fymphonious, yet distinct,
And in the charming ftrife triumphant still,
Beguile the night, and set a keener edge
On female industry; the threaded steel
Flies fwiftly, and unfelt the task proceeds.
The volume clos'd, the customary rites

Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal ;•
Such as the mistress of the world once found
Delicious, when her patriots of high note,
Perhaps by moonlight, at their humble doors,
And under an old oak's domestic shade,
Enjoyed, fpare feast! a radish or an egg.

Difcourfe

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