Inventive genius, and some dawn of art; Then left them here, with sense enough to win, Or cheat the bear, or panther of his skin; Mean huts to build, regardless of their form, Completely blest, if shelter'd from the storm; To see the seasons change, day turn to night: Bow to the lamps of heaven that gave them light, Beam'd on the spring, or bade the summer glow, Their harvests ripen, and their gardens grow-- A VIEW OF RHODE ISLAND[6] Wash'd by surrounding seas, and bold her coasts, A grateful soil the fair _Rhode Island_ boasts. The admiring eye no happier fields can trace, Here seas are crowned with the scaly race, Nature has strove to make her native blest And owns no fairer Eden in the west: Here lovliest dames in frequent circles seen, Catch the fine tint of health from beauty's queen, No aid they want to seize the enraptur'd view Nor art's false colours to improve the true; Here, love the traveller holds--loth to depart Some charming creature slays his wandering heart, Bids him forget from clime to clime to rove, And even dull prudence--here--submits to love. On grassy farms, their souls enslav'd to gain, Reside the masters of the rural reign; Vast herds they feed, that glut the abundant pail, Break the stiff sod, or freight the adventurous sail; The nervous steed, the stanchest of the kind Here walks his rounds in pastures unconfin'd:-- Half that the lands produce or seas contain To other shores transported o'er the main Returns in coin, to cheer the miser's eye, In foreign _sweets_, that fancied wants supply, Or tawdry stuffs, to deck the limbs of pride, That thus expends what avarice strove to hide. But, hostile to themselves, this jarring race In desperate interests, different plans embrace-- _One_, bold in wrong, his paper fabric rears And steels his bosom to the orphan's tears To those he ruin'd grants no late relief! But leaves the wretched to subsist on grief! In lost advice his days the gownsman spends, He gives his prayers and teachings to the winds,-- In vain he tells of virtue's sure reward; No words but this attract a swain's regard-- Talk not of Laws!--where innocence must fall, One spark of honour more than damns them all; And vainly Science her assistance lends Where knavery shapes it to the basest ends, Fraud walks at large,--each selfish passion reigns, And cheats enforce what honesty disdains. Hurt at the view, I leave the ungrateful shore And thy rough soil, Connecticut, explore: TERRA VULPINA, OR, THE LAND OF FOXES[7]