As one who, long in thickets and in brakes Entangled, winds now this way and now that His devious course uncertain, seeking home; Or, having long in miry ways been foil'd, And sore discomfited, from slough to slough Plunging, and half-despairing of escape; If chance at length he finds a greensward smooth And faithful to the foot, his spirits rise, He chirrups brisk his ear-erecting steed, And winds his way with pleasure and with ease; So I, designing other themes, and call'd To adorn the Sofa with eulogium due, To tell its slumbers, and to paint its dreams, Since pulpits fail, and sounding-boards reflect Most part an empty ineffectual sound, Or, when rough winter rages, on the soft And shelter'd Sofa, while the nitrous air Feeds a blue flame, and makes a cheerful hearth; There, undisturb'd by Folly, and apprised How great the danger of disturbing her, To muse in silence, or at least confine Domestic Happiness, thou only bliss Of Paradise that hast survived the fall! Joys that her stormy raptures never yield. |