The worst in genius, measure and degree;
For envy, hatred, malice, are but parts of thee.

III.
Or woud'ft thou change the scene, and quit thy den,

Behold the heav'n-deserted fen,
Where spleen, by vapours dense begot and bred,

Hardness of heart, and heaviness of head,
Have rais'd their darksome walls, and plac'd their thorny

bed;

There may'st thou all thy bitterness unload, There may'st thou croak, in concert with the toad,

With thee the hollow howling winds shall join, Nor shall the bittern her base throat deny,

The querulous frogs shall mix their dirge with thine,
Th'ear-piercing hern, and plover screaming high,
While million humming gnats fit æstrum shall supply.

IV.
Away---away---behold an hideous band

An herd of all thy minions are at hand,
Suspicion first with jealous caution stalks,

And ever looks around her as she walks, With bibulous ear imperfect sounds to catch,

And prompt to listen at her neighbours latch.

Next Scandal's meagre shade,
Foe to the virgins, and the poet's fame,

A wither'd, time-deflow'red old maid,
That ne'er enjoy'd love's ever sacred flame.

Hypo

Hypocrisy succeeds with saint-like look,

And elevates her hands and plods upon her book. Next comes illiberal scrambling Avarice,

Then Vanity and Affectation nice--See, she salutes her shadow with a bow

As in short Gallic trips she minces by, Starting antipathy is in her eye,

And squeamithly the knits her scornful brow.
To thee, Ill-Nature, all the numerous group

With lowly reverence stoop---
They wait thy call, and mourn thy long delay,

Away---thou art infectious---hafte away.

O DE

Quinetiam Gallum noctem explaudentibus alfs
Auroram clarâ consuetum vace vocare.

LUCRET,

BR

RISK chaunticleer his mattins had begun,

And broke the silence of the night, And thrice he call'd aloud the tardy sun,

And thrice he hail'd the dawn's ambiguous light; Back to their graves the fear-begotten phantoms run. Strong Labour got up with his pipe in his mouth,

And stoutly strode over the dale,
He lent new perfumes to breath of the south,

On his back hung his wallet and fail.
Behind him came Health from her cottage of thatch,
Where never physician had lifted the latch.

First

First of the village Colin was awake,
And thus he sung, reclining on his rake.

Now the rural graces three
Dance beneath yon maple tree;
First the vestal Virtue, known
By her adamantine zone;
Next to her in rosy pride,
Sweet Society, the bride;
Last Honesty, full seemly drest

In her cleanly home-spun vest.
The abby bells in wak’ning rounds

The warning peal have giv’n;
And pious Gratitude resounds

Her morning hymn to heav'n.
All nature wakes---the birds unlock their throats,
And mock the shepherd's rustic notes.

All alive o'er the lawn,
Full glad of the dawn,

The little lambkins play,
Sylvia and Sol arise,---and all is day--

Come, my mates, let us work,

And all hands to the fork,
While the Sun shines, our Hay-cocks to make,

So fine is the Day,

And so fragrant the Hay,
That the Meadow's as blithe as the Wake.

Our