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: Joint-stools were then created; on three legs 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, |