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 found of winter's hoary wing Unpeople all our counties of fuch herds Of fluttering, loitering, cringing, begging, loose And wanton vagrants, as make London, vaft And boundless as it is, a crowded coop. Oh thou, refort and mart of all the earth, Chequered with all complexions of mankind, And fpotted with all crimes; in whom I fee Much that I love, and more that I admire, And all that I abhor; thou freckled fair, That pleaseft and yet shockeft me, I can laugh And I can weep, can hope, and can defpond, Feel wrath and pity, when I think on thee! Ten righteous would have faved a city once, And thou hast many righteous.-Well for theeThat falt preferves thee; more corrupted elfe, 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 waggone.—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. THE TASK. BOOK IV. THE WINTER EVENING. HARK! 'tis the twanging horn o'er yonder bridge, He comes, the herald of a noisy world, With fpattered boots, ftrapped waist, and frozen locks; And, having dropped the expected bag, pass on. Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to fome; Births, deaths, and marriages, epifties wet Or charged with amorous fighs of abfent fwains, His horfe and him, unconfcious of them all. Now ftir the fire, and close the thutters faft, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud biffing urn |