OF LABORIOUS VIRTUE AND LUXURIOUS VICE. THE TEMPTER
FOILED AND CHANGED.-SIR EDWARD, FANNY, AND HER
HONEST LOVER. THE PROSPEROUS LOVE-MATCH. THE
DOUBLE TRIUMPH OF VIRTUE.

Last on my list appears a match of love
And one of virtue, - happy may it prove! -
Sir Edward Archer is an amorous knight,
And maidens chaste and lovely shun his sight;
His bailiff's daughter suited much his taste,
For Fanny Price was lovely and was chaste;
To her the knight with gentle looks drew near,
And timid voice, assumed to banish fear. -

'Hope of my life, dear sovereign of my breast, Which, since I knew thee, knows not joy nor rest; Know thou art all that my delighted eyes, My fondest thoughts, my proudest wishes, prize; And is that bosom (what on earth so fair?) To cradle some coarse peasant's sprawling heir? To be that pillow, which some surly swain May treat with scorn, and agonize with pain? Art thou, sweet maid, a ploughman's wants to share, To dread his insult, to support his care? To hear his follies, his contempt to prove, And (0, the torment!) to endure his love; Till want, and deep regret, those charms destroy, That time would spare, for rapture to enjoy ?

'With him, in varied pains, from morn till night, Your hours shall pass; yourself a ruffian's right; Your softest bed shall be the knotted wool; Your purest drink, the waters of the pool; Your sweetest food will but your life sustain ; And your best pleasure be a rest from pain; [abate, While through each year, as health and strength You'll weep your woes, and wonder at your fate; And cry, "Behold, as life's last cares come on, My burthens growing, when my strength is gone." 'Now turn with me, and all the young desire, That taste can form, that fancy can require ; All that excites enjoyment, or procures

Sparkling, in cups of gold, your wines shall flow,
Grace that fair hand, in that dear bosom glow;
Fruits of each clime, and flowers through all the year,
Shall on your walls and in your walks appear;
Where all beholding shall your praise repeat,
No fruit so tempting, and no flower so sweet; -
The softest carpets in your rooms shall lie,
Pictures of happiest loves shall meet your eye,
And tallest mirrors, reaching to the floor,
Shall show you all the object I adore ;
Who, by the hands of wealth and fashion dressed,
By slaves attended and by friends caressed,
Shall move, a wonder, through the public ways,
And hear the whispers of adoring praise.

'Your female friends, though gayest of the gay, Shall see you happy, and shall, sighing, say, While smothered envy rises in the breast, "O, that we lived so beauteous and so blest!" 'Come, then, my mistress and my wife :-1 for she Who trusts my honor is the wife for me; Your slave, your husband, and your friend, employ, In search of pleasures we may both enjoy.'

To this the damsel, meekly firm, replied: 'My mother loved, was married, toiled and died: With joys she'd griefs, had troubles in her course, But not one grief was pointed by remorse; My mind is fixed, to Heaven I resign, And be her love, her life, her comforts, mine.'

Tyrants have wept; and those with hearts of steel, Who caused the anguish they disdained to heal, Have at some time the power of virtue known, And felt another's good promote their own: Our knight, relenting, now befriends the youth Who took the maid, with innocence and truth; And finds in that fair deed a sacred joy, That will not perish, and that cannot cloy ;A living joy, that shall its vigor keep, When beauty all decays, and all the passions sleep.

HOOD'S "AUTUMN.”

I SAW old Autumn in the misty morn
Stand shadowless like silence, listening
To silence, for no lonely bird would sing
Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,
Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn; —
Shaking his languid locks, all dewy bright
With tangled gossamer that fell by night,
Pearling his coronet of golden corn.

Where are the songs of Summer? - With the sun,
Oping the dusky eyelids of the South,
Till shade and silence waken up as one,
And Morning sings with a warm, odorous mouth.
Where are the merry birds? - Away, away,
On panting wings through the inclement skies,
Lest owls should prey

0

go and sit with her, and be o'ershaded Under the languid downfall of her hair: She wears a coronal of flowers faded Upon her forehead, and a face of care; There is enough of withered everywhere To make her bower, -and enough of gloom; There is enough of sadness to invite If only for the rose that died, whose doom Is beauty's, she that with the living bloom Of conscious cheeks most beautifies the light; There is enough of sorrowing, and quite Enough of bitter fruits the earth doth bear, Enough of chilly droppings for her bowl; Enough of fear and shadowy despair, To frame her cloudy prison for the soul!

HERRICK'S "FARMER."

SWEET Country life, to such unknown, Whose lives are others', not their own! But, serving courts and cities, be Less happy, less enjoying thee. Thou never ploughed the ocean's foam, To seek and bring rough pepper home; Nor to the eastern Ind dost rove, To bring from thence the scorchéd clove; Nor, with the loss of thy loved rest, Bring'st home the ingot from the West. No; thy ambition's master-piece Flies no thought higher than a fleece; Or how to pay thy hinds, and clear All scores, and so to end the year; But walk'st about thy own dear grounds, Not craving others' larger bounds; For well thou know'st 't is not the extent Of land makes life, but sweet content. When now the cock, the ploughman's horn, Calls for the lily-wristed morn,

Then to thy corn-fields thou dost go,

Which, though well soiled, yet thou dost know

That the best compost for the lands

Is the wise master's feet and hands.

There, at the plough, thou find'st thy team,
With a hind whistling there to them;

And cheers them up by singing how
The kingdom's portion is the plough.
This done, then to the enamelled meads
Thou goest; and as thy foot there treads,
Thou seest a present godlike power
Imprinted in each herb and flower;

And smell'st the breath of great-eyed kine,
Sweet as the blossoms of the vine.
Here thou behold'st thy large, sleek neat,
Unto the dewlaps up in meat;

And as thou look'st, the wanton steer,
The heifer, cow, and ox, draw near,
To make a pleasing pastime there.
These seen,
thou goest to view the flocks
Of sheep, safe from the wolf and fox;
And find'st their bellies there as full

Of short, sweet grass, as backs with wool;
And leav'st them, as they feed and fill,

A shepherd piping on the hill.
For sports, for pageantry, and plays,
Thou hast thy eves and holidays,

On which the young men and maids meet
To exercise their dancing feet;
Tripping the comely country round,
With daffodils and daisies crowned.
Thy wakes, thy quintels, here thou hast,
Thy Maypoles, too, with garlands graced ;
Thy morrris-dance, thy Whitsun-ale,
Thy shearing-feast, which never fail ;
Thy harvest home, thy wassail-bowl,
That's tossed up after fox-i'-th'-hole;
Thy mummeries, thy twelfth-night kings
And queens, thy Christmas revellings;
Thy nut-brown mirth, thy russet wit,
And no man pays too dear for it.
To these thou hast thy time to go,
And trace the hare in treacherous snow;

Thy witty wiles to draw, and get

THE PROPER ASPECT FOR AN ORCHARD; OPEN TO THE WEST, WITH HILLS ON THE NORTH.

Whoe'er expects his laboring trees should bend
With fruitage, and a kindly harvest yield,
Be this his first concern; to find a tract
Impervious to the winds, begirt with hills,
That intercept the Hyperborean blasts
Tempestuous, and cold Eurus' nipping force,
Noxious to feeble buds: but to the west
Let him free entrance grant, let zephyrs bland
Administer their tepid genial airs;

Naught fear he from the west, whose gentle warmth
Discloses well the earth's all-teeming womb,
Invigorating tender seeds; whose breath
Nurtures the orange, and the citron groves,
Hesperian fruits, and wafts their odors sweet
Wide through the air, and distant shores perfumes.
Nor only do the hills exclude the winds: [showers
But, when the blackening clouds in sprinkling
Distil, from the high summits down the rain
Runs trickling; with the fertile moisture cheered,
The orchards smile; joyous the farmers see
Their thriving plants, and bless the heavenly dew.
SOILS IMPROPER FOR AN ORCHARD.—NOT MIRY, OR BLACK,
OR CHALKY.

Next, let the planter, with discretion meet,
The force and genius of each soil explore;

To what adapted, what it shuns averse:
Without this necessary care, in vain

He hopes an apple-vintage, and invokes
Pomona's aid in vain. The miry fields,
Rejoicing in rich mould, most ample fruit
Of beauteous form produce; pleasing to sight,
But to the tongue inelegant and flat.
So Nature has decreed; so, oft we see
Men passing fair, in outward lineaments
Elaborate; less, inwardly, exact.
Nor from the sable ground expect success,
Nor from cretaceous, stubborn and jejune :
The must, of pallid hue, declares the soil
Devoid of spirit; wretched he, that quaffs
Such wheyish liquors; oft with colic pangs,
With pungent colic pangs distressed, he 'll roar,
And toss, and turn, and curse the unwholesome
draught.

SOIL PROPER FOR ORCHARDS; WHERE RYE GROWS WELL;
SUCH SOILS AS KENTCHURCH, SUTTON-ACRES, ETC.-
ETHELBERT AND OFFA.

But, farmer, look, where full-eared sheaves of rye Grow wavy on the tilth, that soil select For apples; thence thy industry shall gain Ten-fold reward; thy garners, thence with store Surcharged, shall burst; thy press with purest juice Shall flow, which, in revolving years, may try Thy feeble feet, and bind thy faltering tongue. Such is the Kentchurch, such Dantzeyan ground, Such thine, O learned Brome, and Capel such, Willisian Burlton, much-loved Geers his Marsh, And Sutton-acres, drenched with regal blood Of Ethelbert, when to the unhallowed feast Of Mercian Offa he invited came, To treat of spousals: long connubial joys He promised to himself, allured by fair Elfrida's beauty; but deluded died In height of hopes-O! hardest fate, to fall By show of friendship, and pretended love!

ALLUSION TO THE SLIDING OF MARCLEY HILL.

I nor advise, nor reprehend the choice Of Marcley Hill; the apple nowhere finds A kinder mould: yet 't is unsafe to trust Deceitful ground: who knows but that, once more, This mount may journey, and, his present site Forsaking, to, thy neighbors' bounds transfer The goodly plants, affording matter strange For law debates? If, therefore, thou incline To deck this rise with fruits of various tastes, Fail not by frequent vows to implore success ; Thus piteous Heaven may fix the wandering glebe.

CLAYEY AND GRAVELLY SOILS MAY BE MADE TO GROW PEARS.

But if (for Nature doth not share alike
Her gifts) an happy soil should be withheld;
If a penurious clay should be thy lot,
Or rough unwieldy earth, nor to the plough,
Nor to the cattle kind, with sandy stones
And gravel o'er-abounding, think it not
Beneath thy toil; the sturdy pear-tree here
Will rise luxuriant, and with toughest root
Pierce the obstructing grit, and restive marl.

EVERY SOIL GOOD FOR SOMETHING, NATURALLY OR BY CUL-
TIVATION; MOORS; SHEEP; GEESE; PLINLIMMON GOATS;

SAMPHIRE-GATHERERS.

Thus naught is useless made; nor is there land, But what, or of itself, or else compelled, Affords advantage. On the barren heath The shepherd tends his flock, that daily crop Their verdant dinner from the mossy turf, Sufficient; after them the cackling goose, Close grazer, finds wherewith to ease her want. What should I more? Ev'n on the cliffy height Of Penmenmaur, and that cloud-piercing hill, Plinlimmon, from afar the traveller kens, Astonished, how the goats their shrubby browze Gnaw pendent; nor untrembling canst thou see How from a scraggy rock, whose prominence Half overshades the ocean, hardy men, Fearless of rending winds, and dashing waves, Cut samphire, to excite the squeamish gust Of pampered luxury. Then, let thy ground Not lie unlabored; if the richest stem Refuse to thrive, yet who would doubt to plant Somewhat, that may to human use redound, And penury, the worst of ills, remove?

MUCKING APPLE-TREES IS BUT OF TEMPORARY BENEFIT.

There are, who, fondly studious of increase,
Rich foreign mould on their ill-natured land
Induce laborious, and with fattening muck
Besmear the roots; in vain! the nursling grove
Seems fair a while, cherished with foster earth:
But, when the alien compost is exhaust,
Its native poverty again prevails.

CIRCULAR TRENCHING AND WATERING IMPORTANT TO APPLE-
TREES IN A DRY TIME.

Tho' this art fails, despond not; little pains,
In a due hour employed, great profit yield.
The industrious, when the sun in Leo rides,
And darts his sultriest beams, portending drought,
Forgets not at the foot of every plant

To sink a circling trench, and daily pour
A just supply of alimental streams,
Exhausted sap recruiting; else, false hopes
He cherishes, nor will his fruit expect
The autumnal season, but in Summer's pride,
When other orchards smile, abortive fail.

THE EFFECTS OF THE SUN ON SOIL. DROUGHT AND HEATS
DESCRIBED. FEVERS. SMALL-POX. PESTILENCE.

Thus the great light of heaven, that in his course Surveys and quickens all things, often proves Noxious to planted fields, and often men

Perceive his influence dire; sweltering they run
To grots, and caves, and the cool umbrage seek
Of woven arborets, and oft the rills
Still streaming fresh revisit, to allay
Thirst, inextinguishable: but if the Spring
Preceding should be destitute of rain,
Or blast septentrional with brushing wings
Sweep up the smoky mists, and vapors damp,
Then woe to mortals! Titan then exerts
His heat intense, and on our vitals preys ;
Then maladies of various kinds, and names
Unknown, malignant fevers, and that foe
To blooming beauty, which imprints the face
Of fairest nymph, and checks our growing love,
Reign far and near; grim death, in different shapes,
Depopulates the nations; thousands fall

His victims; youths, and virgins, in their flower,
Reluctant die, and sighing leave their loves
Unfinished, by infectious Heaven destroyed.

TRIBUTE TO MISS WINCHCOMB.

Such heats prevailed, when fair Eliza, last Of Winchcomb's name (next thee in blood, and worth,

O fairest St.John !) left this toilsome world
In beauty's prime, and saddened all the year:
Nor could her virtues, nor repeated vows
Of thousand lovers, the relentless hand
Of death arrest; she with the vulgar fell,
Only distinguished by this humble verse.

THE LEGEND OF ARICONIUM, A CITY IN HEREFORDSHIRE; DE-
SCRIPTION OF IT. EFFECTS OF DROUGHT.

But if it please the sun's intemperate force
To know, attend; whilst I of ancient fame
The annals trace, and image to thy mind
How our forefathers (luckless men !), ingulft
By the wide yawning earth, to Stygian shades
Went quick, in one sad sepulchre enclosed.

In elder days, ere yet the Roman bands,
Victorious, this our other world subdued,
A spacious city stood, with firmest walls
Sure mounded, and with numerous turrets crowned,
Aerial spires, and citadels, the seat

Of kings, and heroes resolute in war,
Famed Ariconium; uncontrolled, and free,
Till all-subduing Latian arms prevailed.
Then also, though to foreign yoke submiss,
She undemolished stood, and even till now
Perhaps had stood, of ancient British art
A pleasing monument, not less admired
Than what from Attic or Etruscan hands
Arose; had not the heavenly powers averse
Decreed her final doom.

CAUSES OF THE DESTRUCTION OF ARICONIUM; DROUGHT;
GASES; THE THAMES; THE TEMPEST.

For now the fields

Labored with thirst, Aquarius had not shed
His wonted showers, and Sirius parched with heat
Solstitial the green herb: hence 'gan relax
The ground's contexture, hence Tartarean dregs,