Of pleasure and variety, dispatch,
As duly as the swallows disappear,
The world of wandering knights and squires to town. London ingulfs them all! The shark is there, And the shark's prey; the spendthrift, and the leech That sucks him: there the sycophant, and he Who, with bareheaded and obsequious bows, Begs a warm office, doom'd to a cold jail And groat per diem, if his patron frown. The levee swarms, as if in golden pomp Were character'd on every statesman's door, 'Batter'd and bankrupt fortunes mended here.' These are the charms, that sully and eclipse The charms of nature. 'Tis the cruel gripe, That lean, hard-handed Poverty inflicts, The hope of better things, the chance to win, The wish to shine, the thirst to be amused, That at the sound of Winter's hoary wing Unpeople all our counties of such herds
Of fluttering, loitering, cringing, begging, loose, And wanton vagrants, as make London, vast And boundless as it is, a crowded coop.
O thou, resort and mart of all the earth, Chequer'd with all complexions of mankind, And spotted with all crimes; in whom I see Much that I love, and more that I admire, And all that I abhor; thou freckled fair, That pleasest and yet shock'st me, I can laugh, And I can weep, can hope, and can despond, Feel wrath and pity, when I think on thee! Ten righteous would have saved a city once, And thou hast many righteous. Well for theer That salt preserves thee; more corrupted else, And therefore more obnoxious, at this hour, Than Sodom in her day had power to be, For whom God heard his Abraham plead in vain.
ARGUMENT OF THE FOURTH BOOK.
The post comes in.-The newspaper is read.-The world contemplated at a distance.-Address to Winter. The rural amusements of a winter evening compared with the fashionable ones.-Address to Evening.-A brown study.-Fall of snow in the evening.-The waggoner.-A poor family. piece. The rural thief.-Public houses.-The multitude of them censured.-The farmer's daughter: what she was-what she is.-The simplicity of country manners almost lost.-Causes of the change. Desertion of the country by the rich.Neglect of magistrates.-The militia principally in fault. The new recruit and his transformation. -Reflection on bodies corporate.—The love of rural objects natural to all, and never to be totally extinguished.
HARK! 'tis the twanging horn o'er yonder bridge, That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright ;He comes, the herald of a noisy world,
With spatter'd boots, strapp'd waist, and frozen locks;
News from all nations lumbering at his back. True to his charge, the close-pack'd load behind, Yet careless what he brings, his one concern Is to conduct it to the destined inn;
And, having dropp'd the expected bag, pass on. He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch, Cold and yet cheerful: messenger of grief Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some; To him indifferent whether grief or joy. Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks, Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet With tears, that trickled down the writer's cheeks Fast as the periods from his fluent quill,
Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains, Or nymphs responsive, equally affect
His horse and him, unconscious of them all. But O the important budget! usher'd in With such heart-shaking music, who can say
What are its tidings? have our troops awaked? Or do they still, as if with opium drugg'd, Snore to the murmurs of the Atlantic wave? Is India free? and does she wear her plumed And jewell'd turban with a smile of peace, Or do we grind her still? The grand debate, The popular harangue, the tart reply,
The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit, And the loud laugh-I long to know them all; I burn to set the imprison'd wranglers free, And give them voice and utterance once again. Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And, while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in. Not such his evening, who with shining face Sweats in the crowded theatre, and, squeezed And bored with elbow-points through both his sides, Outscolds the ranting actor on the stage: Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb, And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath Of patriots, bursting with heroic rage, Or placemen, all tranquillity and smiles. This folio of four pages, happy work! Which not e'en critics criticise; that holds Inquisitive Attention, while I read,
Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fair, Though eloquent themselves, yet fear to break; What is it, but a map of busy life,
Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns? Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge, That tempts Ambition. On the summit see The seals of office glitter in his eyes;
He climbs, he pants, he grasps them! At his heels, Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends,
And with a dexterous jerk soon twists him down, And wins them, but to lose them in his turn. Here rills of oily eloquence in soft
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