Sidor som bilder

For all the favage din of the swift pack,
And clamours of the field? detefted sport,
That owes its pleasures to another's pain,
That feeds upon the fobs and dying fhrieks
Of harmless nature, dumb, but yet endu'd
With eloquence that agonies inspire
Of filent tears and heart-diftending fighs?
Vain tears, alas! and fighs that never find
A correfponding tone in jovial fouls.

Well-one at least is fafe. One fhelter'd hare
Has never heard the fanguinary yell
Of cruel man, exulting in her woes.
Innocent partner of my peaceful home,
Whom ten long years experience of my care
Has made at laft familiar; she has loft
Much of her vigilant inftinctive dread,
Not needful here, beneath a roof like mine.
Yes-thou may'ft eat thy bread, and lick the hand
That feeds thee; thou may'ft frolic on the floor
At evening, and at night retire secure


To thy ftraw couch, and flumber unalarm'd;
For I have gain'd thy confidence, have pledg'd
All that is human in me, to protect
Thine unfufpecting gratitude and love.
If I furvive thee I will dig thy grave,
And when I place thee in it, fighing fay,
I knew at least one hare that had a friend.

How various his employments, whom the world Calls idle, and who justly, in return,

Efteems that busy world an idler too!

Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen,
Delightful induftry enjoy'd at home,

And nature in her cultivated trim
Drefs'd to his tafte, inviting him abroad-
Can he want occupation who has these?
Will he be idle who has much t' enjoy?
Me, therefore, studious of laborious ease,"
Not flothful; happy to deceive the time,
Not waste it; and aware that human life

Is but a loan to be repaid with use,

When He fhall call his debtors to account,
From whom are all our bleffings, bus'ness finds
Ev'n here: while fedulous I feek t' improve,
At least neglect not, or leave unemploy'd,
The mind he gave me ; driving it, though flack
Too oft, and much impeded in its work

By caufes not to be divulg❜d in vain,
To its just point, the service of mankind.
He that attends to his interior self,
That has a heart and keeps it; has a mind
That hungers and fupplies it; and, who seeks

A focial, not a diffipated life,

Has business; feels himself engag'd ť' achieve
No unimportant, though a filent task.

A life all turbulence and noise, may seem,
To him that leads it, wife and to be prais'd;
But wisdom is a pearl with most success
Sought in ftill water, and beneath clear fkies.
He that is ever occupied in storms,


Or dives not for it, or brings up instead,
Vainly induftrious, a difgraceful prize.

The morning finds the felf-fequefter'd man
Fresh for his task, intend what task he may.
Whether inclement feafons recommend
His warm but fimple home, where he enjoys,
With her who fhares his pleasures and his heart,
Sweet converfe, fipping calm the fragrant lymph
Which neatly fhe prepares; then to his book
Well chofen, and not fullenly perus'd

In felfish filence, but imparted oft

As aught occurs that he may fmile to hear,
Or turn to nourishment, digefted well.

Or if the garden with its many cares,

All well repay'd, demand him, he attends

The welcome call, confcious how much the hand
Of Jubbard labor needs his watchful eye,

Oft loit'ring lazily, if not o'erseen,
Or mifapplying his unfkilful strength.


Nor does he govern only or direct,

But much performs himself. No works indeed
That ask robust tough finews bred to toil,
Servile employ-but fuch as may amufe,
Not tire, demanding rather skill than force.
Proud of his well-fpread walls, he views his trees
That meet (no barren interval between)
With pleasure more than ev'n their fruits afford,
Which, fave himself who trains them, none can feel:
These therefore are his own peculiar charge,

No meaner hand may difcipline the shoots,
None but his steel approach them. What is weak,
Diftemper'd, or has loft prolific pow'rs,

Impair'd by age, his unrelenting hand

Dooms to the knife: nor does he spare the foft
And fucculent that feeds its giant growth,

Bút barren, at th' expence of neighb'ring twigs
Lefs oftentatious, and yet ftudded thick
With hopeful gems. The reft, no portion left
That may difgrace his art, or disappoint


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