What, though nor stone, nor brick the walls sustain, Nor breathe one sigh for seats of costly pride. Whate'er of fruits the British islands know, Hence fragrant ricks and glowing cones shall rise, Reserv'd till vegetation shrinks and dies; Till yon fair spotted tribes, that range the dale, And frequent wait the ruddy milk-maid's pail, View the gay plains where verdure wont to glow, Incas'd in ice, or buried deep in snow. Benignant clime! here autumn's choicest store Fails not, while winter's latest tempests roar! Far other scenes proclaim his tyrant reign, Where chill Siberia bounds the northern main; All powers of life and vegetation fled, The fields repose as nature's self lay dead, The earth to rock, the sea to crystal turns, Till the bright sun with tropic splendor burns. 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 Phoebus' vivifying ray K THE VILLAGE FAIR. Let mirth go on, let pleasure know no pause, EPITOME of human life, Behold a village fair, Contrast of jollity and strife, Of merriment and care. Rowe. Here crockery spreads the verdant ground, Of pedlars' stalls, arrang'd in rows, And top-knots for the fair. Of cakes and spice-nuts shall I sing, Of gingerbread, each queen and king Their noses tipt with gold. Of stalls for children fraught with bliss, And for the babe a rattle. Of many a ballad-singing whine, And blind musicians, that combine To deafen all around. Wild beasts are here, and screaming birds, Here they break heads, and there shake hands, Here am'rous youths, with each a mate, And, whisp'ring as they go, relate The secret of their loves. EQUALITY. A Kitchen Conversation, in a retired Country Village. "Non possidentem multa vocaveris Recte beatum; rectius occupat 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 Jike; 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 remarks. Her chief topic, at the time I hint at, was the dearness of provisions, the scarcity of money, the hardships of the labouring poor, on which she descanted in TRANSLATION*. Believe not those that lands possess, And shining heaps of useless ore, The only lords of happiness; But rather those that know For what kind fates bestow, And have the art to use the store; |