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What, though nor stone, nor brick the walls sustain,
Whate'er of fruits the British islands know,
Yet, thy own wealth attracts the richest stores, · With power magnetic, to thy favour'd shores.
And chief thy flocks, that crown each mountain's brow,
Hence fragrant ricks and glowing cones shall rise,
Benignant clime! here autumn's choicest store
Yet, sure yon patient, woolly tribes demand The generous care of man's providing hand; Unless for them his shivering limbs must bear Th' enfeebling rigours of th’ inclement year; And Ceres, still thy fostering care supplies Abundant food when wintry glooms arise.
But chief, when Phæbus' vivifying ray
THE VILLAGE FAIR.
“ Let mirth go on, let pleasure know no pause,
But fill up ev'ry minute of this day." Rowe.
EPITOME of human life,
Behold a village fair, Contrast of jollity and strife,
Of merriment and care.
Here crockery spreads the verdant ground,
Pans, plates, and dishes see; Flower-pots and pitchers, crackt and sound,
And sets of cups for tea.
Of pedlars' stalls, arrang'u in rows, .
How glittering is the ware! 'Gay buckles, necklaces, and bows,
And top-knots for the fair.
Of cakes and spice-nuts shall I sing,
All tempting to behold?
Their noses tipt with gold.
Of stalls for children fraught with bliss,
Where round you hear them prattle; Horses for master, dolls for miss,
And for the babe a rattle.
Of many a ballad-singing whine,
The unharmonious sound;
To deafen all around.
Wild beasts are here, and screaming birds,
And puppet-shows, and apes; Mountebanks, free of drugs and words,
And cheats in various shapes.
Here they break heads, and there shake hands,
Now blood, now liquor flows; Now friendly are the motley bands,
Presto be gone they're foes.
Here am'rous youths, with each a mate,
Proffer gay toys or gloves ;
The secret of their loves.
A Kitchen Conversation, in a retired Country Village.
Nomen beati, qui deorum
Muneribus sapienter uti,
Duramque callet pauperiem pati*.” Hor. ...... The weather is wet, and I have nothing to relate of the present; I shall therefore go back a little, in order to retail a kitchen conversation, wherein I made a conspicuous figure at our last washing time. Miss P- usually irons her own small linen, I do the like; and sometimes upon these occasions we are quite a large party, for there is a chairwoman besides the servants. This person, who is called Mrs. H-, is always well provided with subjects of conversation, as she knows every thing that passes in the parish. She is extremely communicative, and very free of her semarks. Her chief topic, at the time I hint at, was the dearness of provisions, the scarcity of money, the hard:ships of the labouring poor, on which she descanted in
And shining heaps of useless ore,
But rather those that know
For what kind fates bestow,