How calm is my recefs! and how the froft,
Raging abroad, and the rough wind, endear
The filence and the warmth, enjoy'd within!
I faw the woods, and fields, at close of day,
A variegated fhow; the meadows green,
Though faded, and the lands, where lately wav'd,
The golden harveft, of a mellow brown,
Uptura'd' fo lately by the forceful share.
I faw far off the weedy fallows fmile,
With verdure, not unprofitable, graz’d,
By flocks, faft feeding, and felecting each,
His fav'rite herb; while all the leaflefs groves
That skirt th' horizon, wore a fable hue,
Searce notic'd, in the kindred dusk of eve.
To-morrow brings a change, a total change!
Which, even now, though filently perform'd,
And flowly, and by moft unfelt, the face
Of univerfal nature undergoes.
Faft falls a fleecy fhow'r. The downy flakes,
Defcending, and with never-ceafing lapfe,
Softly alighting upon all below,
Affimilate all objects. Earth receives
Gladly, the thick'ning mantle, and the green,
And tender blade, that fear'd the chilling blaft,
Efcapes unhurt, beneath fo warm a veil.
In fuch a world, fo thorny, and, where none
Finds happiness unblighted, or, if found,
Without fome thiftly forrow at its fide,
It feems the part of wifdom, and no fin
Against the law of love, to measure lots
With lefs diftinguish'd than ourselves, that thus,
We may with patience, bear our mod'rate ills,
And fympathize with others, fuff'ring more.
Ill fares the trav'ller now, and he that stalks.
In pond'rous boots, befide his reeking team.
The wain goes heavily, impeded fore,
By congregated loads, adhering clofe,
To the clogg'd wheels; and in its fluggish pace,
Noifelefs, appears a moving hill of fnow.
The toiling steeds expand the noftril wide,
While ev'ry breath, by refpiration ftrong,
Forc'd downward, is confolidated foon
Upon their jutting chefts. He, form'd to bear,
The pelting brunt of the tempestuous night,
With half-fhut eyes, and pucker'd cheeks, and teeth,,
Prefented bare against the storm, plods on.
One hand fecures his hat, fave, when with both,
He brandishes his pliant length of whip,
Refounding oft, and never heard in vain.
Oh happy! and in my account, deny'd,
That fenfibility of pain, with which,
Refinement is endu'd, thrice happy thou.
Thy frame robuft, and hardy, feels indeed,
The piercing cold, but feels it unimpair'd.
The learned finger never need explore
Thy vig'rous pulfe, and the unhealthful Eaft,
That breathes the spleen, and fearches ev'ry bone
Of the infirm, is wholesome air to thee.
Thy days roll on, exempt from household care,
Thy waggon is thy wife; and the poor beafts,
That drag the dull companion to and fro,
Thine helpless charge, dependent on thy care.
Ah, treat them kindly! rude as thou appear'ft,
Yet fhow that thou haft
which the great,
With needlefs hurry, whirl'd from place to place,
Humane as they would feem, not always show.
Poor, yet induftrious, modeft, quiet, meat, Such claim compañion in a night like this, And, have a friend in ev'ry feeling heart. Warm'd, while it lafts, by labor, all day long, They brave the season, and yet find at eve, Ill clad and fed, but sparely time to cool. The frugal housewife trembles when the lights Her fcanty stock of brush-wood, blazing clear, But dying foon, like all terrestrial joys. The few fmall embers left, fhe nurfea well, And while her infant race, with out-fpread hands, And crowded knees, fit cow'ring o'er the fparks, Retires, content to quake, fo they be warm'd, The man feels leaft, as more inur'd than fhe, To winter, and the current in his veins. More brifkly mov'd by his feverer toil Yet he too, finds his own diftrefs, in theirs. The taper foon extinguifh'd, which I faw, Dangled along at the cold fingers end,
Just when the day declin'd, and the brown loaf, Lodg'd on the shelf half eaten, without fauce Of fav'ry cheese, or butter, coftlier ftill,
Sleep feems their only refuge. For, alas!
Where penury is felt, the thought is chain'd,
And fweet colloquial pleasures are but few.
With all this thrift, they thrive not. All the care
Ingenious parfimony takes, but just
Saves the fmall inventory, bed, and ftool,
Skillet, and old carv'd cheft, from public fale,
They live, and live without extorted alms,
From grudging hands, but other boast have none,
To footh their honeft pride, that scorns to beg,
Nor comfort elfe, but in their mutual love.
I praise you much, ye meek and patient pair,
For ye are worthy; chufing rather far,
A dry, but independent cruft, hard earn'd,
And eaten with a figh, than to endure
The rugged frowns, and infolent rebuffs,
Of knaves in office, partial in the work
Of diftribution; lib'ral of their aid,
To clam'rous importunity in rags,
But oft-times deaf to fuppliants, who would blush,
To wear a tatter'd garb, however coarfe,
Whom famine cannot reconcile to filth;
These afk, with painful fhynefs, and refus'd,
Because deferving, filently retire.
But be ye of good courage. Time itself,
Shall much befriend you. Time fhall give increase,
And all your num'rous progeny well train'd,
But helpless, in few years fhall find their hands,
And labor too. Mean while ye shall not want,
What confcious of your virtues we can fpare,
Nor what a wealthier than ourselves
fend. I mean the man, who, when the distant poor, Needs help, denies them nothing but his name.
But poverty, with most who whimper forth Their long complaints, is felf-inflicted woe, Th' effect of lazinefs, or fottish wafte. Now goes the nightly thief prowling abroad, For plunder; much folicitous how beft, He may compenfate, for a day of floth, By works of darkness, and nocturnal wrong. Woe to the gard'ner's pale, the farmer's hedge, Plash'd neatly, and fecur'd with driven stakes, Deep in the loamy bank. Uptorn by ftrength Refiftlefs, in fo bad a caufe, but lame To better deeds, he bundles up the spoil, An afs's burthen, and when laden most, And heavieft, light of foot, fteals faft away. Nor does the boarded hovel better guard The well-ftack'd pile of riven logs and roots, From his pernicious force. Nor will he leave, Unwrench'd the door, however well secur'd, "Where chanticleer, amidit his haram fleeps, In unfufpecting pomp. Twitch'd from the perch, He gives the princely bird, with all his wives, To his voracious bag, ftruggling in vain, And loudly wond'ring at the fudden change. Nor this to feed his own. 'Twere fome excufe, Did pity of their fufferings, warp afide His principle, and tempt him into fin,
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