I SING the SOFA. I who lately fang Truth, Hope, and Charity *, and touch'd with awe The folemn chords, and with a trembling hand, Efcap'd with pain from that advent'rous flight, Now feek repose upon an humbler theme; The theme though humble, yet auguft and proud Th' occafion-for the Fair commands the song.

Time was, when cloathing fumptuous or for ufe, Save their own painted skins, our fires had none. black breeches were not; fattin fimooth,

As

yet

VOL. II.

* See vol. i,

B

Or

Or velvet foft, or plush with fhaggy pile:
The hardy chief upon the rugged rock
Wash'd by the fea, or on the grav❜ly bank
Thrown up by wintry torrents roaring loud,
Fearless of wrong, repos'd his weary strength.
Those barb'rous ages past, fucceeded next
The birth-day of invention, weak at first,
Dull in defign, and clumsy to perform.

Joint-stools were then created; on three legs
Upborne they stood. Three legs upholding firm
A maffy flab, in fashion square or round.

On fuch a stool immortal Alfred fat,

And fway'd the fceptre of his infant realms;

And fuch in ancient halls and mansions drear

May still be seen, but perforated fore

And drill'd in holes the folid oak is found,

By worms voracious eating through and through.

At length a generation more refin'd

Improv'd the simple plan, made three legs four,