« EdellinenJatka »
The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth,
As some fair female, unadorn’d and plain, Secure to please while youth confirms her reign, Slights every horrow'd charm that dress supplies, Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes: But when those charms are past, forcharms are frail, When time advances, and when lovers fail, She then shines forth, solicitous to bless, In all the glaring impotence of dress. Thus fares the land, by luxury betray'd, In nature's simplest charms at first array'd, But verging to decline, its splendors rise, Its vistas strike, its palaces surprize; While, scourg'd by famine from the smiling land, The mournful peasant leads his humble band; And while he sinks, without one arm to save, The country bloomus--a garden and a grave.
Where then, ah! where shall poverty reside, To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride? If to some common's fenceless limits stray'd, He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade, Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide, And ev’n the bare-worn common is deny'd.
If to the city sped, what waits him there? To see profusion that he must not share; To see ten thousand baneful arts combin'd To pamper luxury, and thin mankind; To see each joy the sons of pleasure know, Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe. Here, while the courtier glitters in brocadė, There the pale artist plies the sickly trade; Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomp
display, There the black gibbet glooms beside the way. The dome where pleasure holds her midnight reign, Here, richly deck'd, admits the gorgeous train; Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare: Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy! Sure these denote one universal joy! Are these thy serious thoughts?--Ah, turn thine
eyes Where the poor houseless, shivering female lies.
She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest,
Do thine, fair Auburn, thine, the loveliest train,
To distant climes, a dreary scene,
Those pois'nous fields with rank luxuriance
crown'd, Where the dark scorpion gathers death around: Where at each step the stranger fears to wake The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake; Where crouching tygers wait their hapless prey, And savage men more murd'rous still than they; While oft in whirls the mąd tornado flies, Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies, i Far diff'rent these from ev'ry former scene, ! . The cooling brook, the grassy vested green, The breezy covert of the warbling grove, That only shelter'd thefts of harmless love.
Good Heav'n! what sorrows gloom'd that part
ing day, That call’d them from their native walks away; When the poor exiles ev'ry pleasure past, ' .1 Hunground theirbow'rs,and fondly look'd their last, And took a long farewel, and wish'd in vain 1 For seats like these beyond the western main, And shudd'ring still to face the distant deep, Return'd and wept, and still return’d to weep: The good old sire, that first prepar'd to go To new-found worlds, and wept for other's woe; But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave.
His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears,
O Luxury! thou curst by heaven's decree, How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee! How do thy potions with insidious joy Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy! Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, Boast of a florid vigour not their own. At ev'ry draught more large and large they grow, A bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe: Till sapp'd their strength, and ev'ry part unsound, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.
Ev'n now the devastation is begun, And half the bus’ness of destruction done: Ev'n now, methinks, as pond'ring here I stand, I see the rural virtues leave the land. Down where yon anch'ring vessels spread the sail, That idly waiting flaps with every gale,