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And truth she makes so precious, that to paint
Our trivial poet hit upon a theme Which all men love, an old, sweet household dream, Such as comes true with some, and might with all, Were liberty to build her wisest hall, Though to the loss of, here and there, a wall : For call the building by some handsome name, College, or square, not parallelogram, And who would scorn to pass consummate hours, Bless'd against care and want, in reverend bowers, With just enough of toil to sweeten ease, And music, ringing through their evening trees ?
I own I shouldn't: I could even bear
To some majestic table to repair,
A HOUSE AND GROUNDS.
Were this impossible, I know full well
and quaint with straggling rooms,
And that my luck might not seem ill-bestow'd,
My grounds should not be large ; I like to go To Nature for a range, and prospect too, And cannot fancy she'll comprise for me, Even in a park, her all-sufficiency. Besides, my thoughts fly far; and when at rest, Love, not a watch-tower, but a lulling nest. But all the ground I had should keep a look Of Nature still, have birds'-nests and a brook ;
One spot for flowers, the rest all turf and trees;
And this reminds me, that behind some screen
About my grounds, I'd have a bowling-green;
You may still see them, dead as haunts of fairies, ,
* Bowls are now thought vulgar: that is to say, a certain number of fine vulgar people agree to call them so. The fashion was once otherwise. Suckling prefers
A pair of black eyes, or a lucky hit
Piccadilly, in Clarendon's time, “ was a fair house of entertainment and gaming, with handsome gravel walks for shade, and where were an upper and a lower bowling-green, whither very many of the nobility and gentry of the best quality resorted, both for exercise and conversation.”—Hist. of the Rebellion, vol. ii. It was to the members of Parliament what the merely indoor club-houses are now, and was a much better place for them to refresh their faculties in. The robust intellects of the Commonwealth grew there, and the airy wits that succeeded them.
A PICTURE OF NAIADS.
THEY, towards the amorous noon, when some young
Strips him to bathe, and yet half thrills to do it,
Each other's locks, some swim about, some sit
Parting their own moist hair, or fingering it