Hence every state, to one lov'd blessing prone,
Conforms and models life to that alone;
Each to the favourite happiness attends,
And spurns the plan that aims at other ends;
Till, carried to excess in each domain,
This favourite good begets peculiar pain.
But let us view these truths with closer eyes,
And trace them through the prospect as it lies:
Here, for a while, my proper cares refign'd,
Here let me fit in forrow for mankind;
Like yon neglected shrub at random cast,
That shades the steep, and fighs at every blast.
Far to the right, where Appennine afcends,
Bright as the summer, ITALY extends:
Her uplands floping deck the mountain's fide,
Woods over woods in gay theatric pride;
While oft fome temple's mould'ring top between,
With venerable grandeur marks the scene.
Could Nature's bounty fatisfy the breast,
The fons of Italy were furely bleft.
Whatever fruits in different climes are found,
That proudly rife, or humbly court the ground;
Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear,
Whose bright fucceffion decks the varied year;
Whatever sweets falute the northern sky
With vernal leaves that blossom but to die;
These here difporting own the kindred foil,
Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil;
While fea-borne gales their gelid wings expand,
To winnow fragrance round the fmiling land.
But fmall the blifs that fenfe alone bestows,
And fenfual blifs is all this nation knows.
In florid beauty groves and fields appear,
Man feems the only growth that dwindles here.
Contrafted faults through all their manners reign;
Though poor, luxurious; though submissive, vain:
Though grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue;
And, even in penance, planning fins anew.
All evils here contaminate the mind,
That opulence departed leaves behind:
For wealth was theirs; nor far remov'd the date,
When Commerce proudly flourish'd through the state.
At her command the palace learnt to rise,
Again the long-fall'n column fought the skies,
The canvas glow'd beyond even nature warm,
The pregnant quarry teem'd with human form.
But, more unsteady than the fouthern gale,
Soon Commerce turn'd on other fhores her fail;
While nought remain'd, of all that riches gave,
But towns unmann'd, and lords without a slave.
Yet ftill the lofs of wealth is here fupply'd
By arts, the fplendid wrecks of former pride;
From these, the feeble heart, and long-fallen mind,
An eafy compenfation feem to find.
Here may be feen, in bloodless pomp array'd,
The pasteboard triumph, and the cavalcade;
Proceffions form'd for piety and love,
A mistress, or a faint, in every grove.
By sports like these are all their cares beguil'd;
The fports of children fatisfy the child:
At fports like these, while foreign arms advance,
In paffive ease they leave the world to chance.
When noble aims have fuffer'd long controul,
They fink at last, or feebly man the foul;
While low delights, fucceeding faft behind,
In happier meanness occupy the mind :
As in those domes, where Cæfars once bore fway,
Defac'd by Time, and tottering in decay,
Amidst the ruin, heedlefs of the dead,
The fhelter-feeking peasant builds his fhed;
And, wondering man could want the larger pile,
Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.
My foul, turn from them; turn we to furvey
Where rougher climes a nobler race difplay:
Where the bleak Swiss their stormy manfions tread,
And force a churlish foil for fcanty bread.
No product here the barren hills afford,
But man and steel, the foldier and his fword;
No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,
But winter lingering chills the lap of May;
No zephyr fondly foothes the mountain's breast,
But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.
Yet ftill, ev'n here, Content can spread a charm,
Redrefs the clime, and all its rage difarm.
Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small,
He fees his little lot the lot of all;
Sees no contiguous palace rear it's head,
To fhade the meanness of his humble shed;
No coftly lord the fumptuous banquet deal,
To make him loathe his vegetable meal;
But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,
Each with contracting, fits him to the foil.
Cheerful at morn he wakes from short repofe,
Breafts the keen air, and carols as he goes;
With patient angle trouls the finny deep,
Or drives his vent'rous ploughfhare to the fleep;
Or feeks the den, where fnow-tracks mark the way,
And drags the fruggling favage into day.
At night returning, every labour sped,
He fits him down the monarch of a shed;
Smiles by his cheerful fire, and round furveys
His children's looks, that brighten at the blaze;
While his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard,
Displays the cleanly platter on the board:
And haply, too, fome pilgrim, thither led,
With many a tale repays the nightly bed.
Thus every good his native wilds impart,
= Imprints the patriot paffion on his heart;
And ev'n those hills that round his mansion rife,
Enhance the blifs his fcanty fund fupplies.
Dear is that fhed to which his foul conforms,
And dear that hill which lifts him to the ftorms:
And, as a babe, when fcaring founds moleft,
Clings clofe, and clofer, to the mother's breast;
So, the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more!
These are the charms to barren states affign'd;
Their wants are few, their wifhes all confin'd.
Yet let them only fhare the praises due,
If few their wants, their pleasures are but few;
Since every want that ftimulates the breast,
Becomes a fource of pleasure when redrest.
Hence from fuch lands each pleasing science flies,
That firft excites defire, and then supplies:
Unknown to them, when fenfual pleasures cloy,
To fill the languid pause with finer joy;
Unknown those powers that raise the foul to flame,
Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame.
Their level life is but a fmould'ring fire,
Nor quench'd by want, nor fann'd by strong defire;
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