Yet neighbours were not quite the thing; What joy, alas! could converse bring With awkward creatures bred at home?-- The dog grew dull, or troublesome. The cat had spoiled the kitten's merit, And, with her youth, had lost her spirit. And jokes repeated o'er and o'er, Had quite exhausted Jenny's store. --'And then, my dear, I can't abide This always sauntering side by side.' 'Enough!' he cries, 'the reason's plain: For causes never rack your brain. Our neighbours are like other folks, Skip's playful tricks, and Jenny's jokes, Are still delightful, still would please, Were we, my dear, ourselves at ease. Look round, with an impartial eye, On yonder fields, on yonder sky; The azure cope, the flowers below, With all their wonted colours glow. The rill still murmurs; and the moon Shines, as she did, a softer sun. No change has made the seasons fail, No comet brushed us with his tail. The scene's the same, the same the weather-- We live, my dear, too much together.' Agreed. A rich old uncle dies, And added wealth the means supplies. With eager haste to town they flew, Where all must please, for all was new. But here, by strict poetic laws, Description claims its proper pause. The rosy morn had raised her head From old Tithonus' saffron bed; And embryo sunbeams from the east, Half-choked, were struggling through the mist, When forth advanced the gilded chaise; The village crowded round to gaze. The pert postilion, now promoted From driving plough, and neatly booted, His jacket, cap, and baldric on, (As greater folks than he have done,) Looked round; and, with a coxcomb air, Smacked loud his lash. The happy pair Bowed graceful, from a separate door, And Jenny, from the stool before. Roll swift, ye wheels! to willing eyes New objects every moment rise. Each carriage passing on the road, From the broad waggon's ponderous load To the light car, where mounted high The giddy driver seems to fly, Were themes for harmless satire fit, And gave fresh force to Jenny's wit. Whate'er occurred, 'twas all delightful, No noise was harsh, no danger frightful. The dash and splash through thick and thin, The hairbreadth 'scapes, the bustling inn, (Where well-bred landlords were so ready To welcome in the 'squire and lady,) Dirt, dust, and sun, they bore with ease, Determined to be pleased, and please. Now nearer town, and all agog, They know dear London by its fog. Bridges they cross, through lanes they wind, Leave Hounslow's dangerous heath behind, Through Brentford win a passage free By roaring, 'Wilkes and Liberty!' At Knightsbridge bless the shortening way, Where Bays's troops in ambush lay, O'er Piccadilly's pavement glide, With palaces to grace its side, Till Bond Street with its lamps a-blaze Concludes the journey of three days.