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For all the favage din of the fwift pack,
And clamours of the field ? detested sport,
That owes its pleasures to another's pain,
That feeds upon the fobs and dying shrieks
Of harmless nature, dumb, but yet endu'd
With eloquence that agonies inspire
Of filent tears and heart-distending sighs ?
Vain tears, alas ! and sighs that never find
A corresponding tone in jovial souls.
Well-one at least is safe. One shelter'd hare
Has never heard the fanguinary yell
Of cruel man, exulting in her woes.
my peaceful home,
Whom ten long years experience of my care
Has made at last familiar ; she has lost
Much of her vigilant instinctive dread,
Not needful here, beneath a roof like mine.
Yes-thou may'st eat thy bread, and lick the hand
That feeds thee; thou may'st frolic on the floor
At evening, and at night retire secure
To thy straw couch, and flumber unalarm'd;
For I have gain'd thy confidence, have pledg'd
All that is human in me, to protect
Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love.
If I survive thee I will dig thy grave,
And when I place thee in it, fighing fay,
I knew at least one hare that had a friend.
How various his employments, whom the world Calls idle, and who justly, in return, Efteems that busy world an idler too! Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen, Delightful industry enjoy'd at home, And nature in her cultivated trim Dress'd to his talte, inviting him abroad Can he want occupation who has these? Will he be idle who has much t' enjoy? Me, therefore, studious of laborious ease,' Not Nothful; happy to deceive the time, Not waste it; and aware that human life
Is but a loan to be repaid with use,
When He shall call his debtors to account,
From whom are all our blessings, bus’ness finds
Ev'n here : while fedulous I seek t'improve,
At least neglect not, or leave unemploy'd,
The mind he gave me ; driving it, though sack
Too oft, and much impeded in its work
By causes not to be divulg'd in vain,
To its just point, the service of mankind.
He that attends to his interior self,
That has a heart and keeps it; has a mind
That hungers and supplies it; and, who seeks
A social, not a diffipated life,
Has business ; feels himself engag'd t' achieve
No unimportant, though a silent task.
A life all turbulence and noise, may seem,
To him that leads it, wise and to be prais’d;
But wisdom is a pearl with most success
Sought in still water, and beneath clear skies.
He that is ever occupied in storms,
Or dives not for it, or brings up instead,
Vainly industrious, a disgraceful prize.
The morning finds the self-fequefter'd man
Fresh for his task, intend what task he
Whether inclement seasons recommend
His warm but simple home, where he enjoys,
With her who shares his pleasures and his heart,
Sweet converse, sipping calm the fragrant lymph
Which neatly she prepares ; then to his book
Well chofen, and not sullenly perus’d
In selfish Glence, but imparted oft
As aught occurs that she may smile to hear,
Or turn to nourishment, digested well.
Or if the garden with its many cares,
All well repay'd, demand him, he attends
The welcome call, conscious how much the hand
Of Jubbard labor needs his watchful eye,
Oft loit'ring lazily, if not o'erseen,
Or misapplying his unskilful strength.
Nor does he govern only or direct,
But much performs himself. No works indeed
That ask robust tough sinews bred to toil,
Servile employ--but such as may amuse,
Not tire, demanding rather skill than force.
Proud of his well-spread walls, he views his trees
That meet (no barren interval between)
With pleasure more than ev'n their fruits afford,
Which, save himself who trains them, none can feel:
These therefore are his own peculiar charge,
No meaner hand may discipline the shoots,
None but his steel approach them. What is weak,
Distemper’d, or has lost prolific pow'rs,
Impair’d by age, his unrelenting hand
Dooms to the knife: nor does he spare the soft
And succulent that feeds its giant growth,
But barren, at th’expence of neighbʼring twigs
Less oftentatious, and yet studded thick
With hopeful gems. The rest, no portion left
That may disgrace his art, or disappoint