For their fupport, fo deftitute. But they,
Neglected pine at home, themselves, as more
Expos'd than others, with lefs fcruple made
His victims, robb'd of their defenceless all.
Cruel is all he does. 'Tis quenchless thirst
Of ruinous ebriety, that prompts
His ev'ry action, and imbrutes the man.
Oh for a law, to noose the villain's neck,
Who ftarves his own.

Who perfecutes the blood,

He
gave them in his children's veins, and hates,
And wrongs the woman, he has fworn to love.

Pafs where we may, through city, or through town,
Village, or hamlet, of this merry-land,
Though lean, and beggar'd, ev'ry twentieth pace,
Conducts the unguarded nose to fuch a whiff
Of ftale debauch, forth-iffuing from the ftyes
That law has licens'd, as makes temp'rance recl.
There fit involv'd and loft, in curling clouds
Of Indian fume, and guzzling deep, the boor,.
The lacquey, and the groom. The craftíman there,
Takes a Lethæan leave of all his toil;

Smith, cobler, joiner, he that plies the fheers,
And he that kneads the dough; all loud alike,
All learned, and all drunk. The fiddle fcreams,
Plaintive, and piteous, as it wept and wail'd,
Its wafted tones, and harmony unheard:

Fierce the difpute, whate'er the theme. While fhe,
Fell Difcord, arbitrefs of fuch debate,

Perch'd on the fign-poft, holds with even hand,

P

Her

Her undecifive fcales. In this, the lays
A weight of ignorance, in that, of pride,
And fmiles, delighted with th' eternal poife.
Dire is the frequent curfe, and its twin found,
The cheek-diftending oath, not to be prais'd,
As ornamental, mufical, polite,

Like those which modern fenators employ,.
Whose oath is rhet'ric, and who fwear for fame.
Behold the schools in which plebeian minds,
Once fimple, are initiated in arts,

Which fome may practise with politer grace,
But none with readier fkill! 'tis here they learn,
The road that leads from competence, and peace,
To indigence and rapine; till at last,
Society, grown weary of the load,

Shakes her incumber'd lap, and cafts them out.
But cenfure profits little. Vain th' attempt,
To advertize in verfe a public pest,

That, like the filth, with which the peafant feeds
His hungry acres, ftinks, and is of ufe.
Th' excife is fatten'd, with the rich refult
Of all this riot. And ten thousand cafks,
For ever dribbling out their base contents,
Touch'd by the Midas finger of the ftate,
Bleed gold for Minifters to fport away.

Drink, and be mad, then. Tis your country bids.
Gloriously drunk, obey th' important call,
Her caufe demands th' affiftance of your throats,

Ye all can fwallow, and she asks no more.

Would

Would I had fall'n upon those happier days
That poets celebrate. Thofe golden times,
And those Arcadian fcenes, that Maro fings,
And Sydney, warbler of poetic profe.

Nymphs were Dianas then, and fwains had hearts,
That felt their virtues. Innocence it seems,
From courts difmifs'd, found fhelter in the groves.
The footsteps of fimplicity imprefs'd,

Upon the yielding herbage, (fo they fing)
Then were not all effac'd. Then speech profane,
And manners profligate, were rarely found,
Obferv'd as prodigies, and foon reclaim'd.
Vain wish! thofe days were never. Airy dreams >>
Sat for the picture. And the poet's hand,
Imparting fubftance to an empty shade,
Impos'd a gay delirium for a truth.
Grant it. I ftill muft envy them an age,
That favor'd fuch a dream, in days like thefe,.
Impoffible, when virtue is fo fearce,

That to fuppofe a fcene where the prefides,
Is tramontane, and ftumbles all belief.
No. We are polish'd now. The rural lafs, `·
Whom once her virgin modesty and grace,
Her artlefs manners, and her neat attire,
So dignified, that she was hardly lefs
Than the fair fhepherdefs of old romance,
Is feen no more. The character is loft.
Her head adorn'd with lappets, pin'd aloft,
And ribbands, ftreaming gay, fuperbly rais'd,
And magnify'd beyond all human fize,

P.2

Indebted

Indebted to some fmart wig-weaver's hand,
For more than half the treffes it fuftains;
Her elbows ruff'd, and her tott'ring form,.

Ill prop'd, upon French heels; fhe might be deem'd,
(But that the basket dangling on her arm,
Interprets her more truly) of a rank.

Too proud for dairy-work, or fale of eggs.
Expect her foon with foot-boy at her heels,
No longer blushing for her awkward load,
Her train, and her umbrella, all her care.

The town has ting'd the country. And the ftain,. Appears a spot upon the veftal's robe,

The worse, for what it foils. The fashion runs

Down into scenes ftill rural, but alas!

Scenes rarely grac'd with rural manners now.
Time was, when in the paftoral retreat,

Th' unguarded door was fafe. Men did not watch
T' invade another's right, or guard their own.
Then fleep was undisturb'd by fear, unfcar'd
By drunken howlings; and the chilling tale
Of midnight murther, was a wonder heard
With doubtful credit, told to frighten babes.
But farewell now to unfufpicious nights,
And flumbers,unalarm'd, Now, ere you sleep,
See that your polish'd arms be prim'd with care,
And drop the night-bolt. Ruffians are abroad,
And the firft larum of the cock's fhrill throat
May prove a trumpet, fummoning your ear,
To horrid founds of hoftile feet within.

Ev'n day-light has its dangers. And the walk,
Through pathlefs waftes and woods, unconscious once
Of other tenants, than melodious birds,

Or harmless flocks, is hazardous and bold.
Lamented change! to which full many a caufe
Invet'rate, hopeless of a cure, confpires.

The courfe of human things, from good to ill,
From ill to worse, is fatal, never fails.

Increase of pow'r begets increase of wealth,
Wealth luxury, and luxury excess ;

Excefs, the fcrophulous and itchy plague, -
That feizes firft the opulent, defcends
To the next rank contagious, and in time,
Taints downward all the graduated scale
Of order, from the chariot, to the plough.
The rich, and they that have an arm to check,
The licence of the loweft in degree,
Defert their office; and themselves.intent
On pleasure, haunt the capital, and thus,
To all the violence of lawless hands,

Refign the scenes, their prefence might protect
Authority herself not feldom fleeps,

Though refident, and witnefs of the wrong.
The plump convivial parfon often bears
The magifterial fword in vain, and lays
His rev'rence, and his worship, both to reft,
On the fame cufhion of habitual floth.

Perhaps timidity reftrains his arm,

When he should strike, he trembles, and fets free,..., Himfelf enflay'd by terror of the band,..

Thau