And, while the frugal banquet glows reveal’d, Pure and unbought[6]—the natives of my field; While blushing fruits thro’ scatter’d leaves invite, Still clad in bloom, and veil’d in azure light;— With wine, as rich in years as HORACE sings, With water, clear as his own fountain flings, The shifting side-board plays its humbler part, Beyond the triumphs of a Loriot’s art.[m] Thus, in this calm recess, so richly fraught With mental light, and luxury of thought, My life steals on; (O could it blend with thine!) Careless my course, yet not without design. So thro’ the vales of Loire the bee-hives glide,[n] The light raft dropping with the silent tide; So, till the laughing scenes are lost in night, The busy people wing their various flight, Culling unnumber’d sweets from nameless flowers, That scent the vineyard in its purple hours. Rise, ere the watch-relieving clarions play, Caught thro’ St. James’s groves at blush of day; Ere its full voice the choral anthem flings Thro’ trophied tombs of heroes and of kings. Haste to the tranquil shade of learned ease,[7] Tho’ skill’d alike to dazzle and to please; Tho’ each gay scene be search’d with anxious eye, Nor thy shut door be pass’d without a sigh. If, when this roof shall know thy friend no more, Some, form’d like thee, should once, like thee, explore; Invoke the lares of his lov’d retreat, And his lone walks imprint with pilgrim-feet; Then be it said, (as, vain of better days, Some grey domestic prompts the partial praise) “Unknown he liv’d, unenvied, not unblest; Reason his guide, and Happiness his guest. In the clear mirror of his moral page, We trace the manners of a purer age. His soul, with thirst of genuine glory fraught, Scorn’d the false lustre of licentious thought. —One fair asylum from the world he knew, One chosen seat, that charms with various view! Who boasts of more (believe the serious strain) Sighs for a home, and sighs, alas! in vain. Thro’ each he roves, the tenant of a day, And, with the swallow, wings the year away!”[o] [1] —apis Matinæ More modoque Grata carpentis thyma. . .—HOR. [2] Postea verò quàm Tyrannio mihi libros disposuit, mens addita videtur meis ædibus. CIC. [3] Ingenium, sibi quod vacuas desumsit Athenas, Et studiis annos septem dedit, insenuitque Libris et curis, statuâ taciturnius exit Plerumque. . .—HOR. [4] Fallacem circum, vespertinumque pererro Sæpe forum.—HOR. [5] Tantôt, un livre en main, errantdans les préries— BOILEAU. [6] Dapes inemtas. . .—HOR. [7] Innocuas amo delicias doctamque quietem. NOTES. [a] _Oft o’er the mead, at pleasing distance, pass_ Cosmo of Medicis took most pleasure in his Apennine villa, because all that he commanded from its windows was exclusively his own. How unlike the wise Athenian, who, when he had a farm to sell, directed the cryer to proclaim, as its best recommendation, that it had a good neighbourhood. PLUT. in Vit. Themist.