AS one who, long in thickets and in brakes Entangled, winds now this way and now that His devious course uncertain, seeking home; Or, having long in miry ways been foiled And sore discomfited, from slough to slough Plunging, and half despairing of escape, If chance at length he find a greensward smooth And faithful to the foot, his spirits rise, He chirrups brisk his ear-erecting steed, And winds his way with pleasure and with ease; So I, designing other themes, and called To adorn the Sofa with eulogium due, To tell its slumbers and to paint its dreams, Have rambled wide. In country, city, seat Of academic fame, howe’er deserved, Long held, and scarcely disengaged at last. But now with pleasant pace, a cleanlier road I mean to tread. I feel myself at large, Courageous, and refreshed for future toil, If toil await me, or if dangers new. Since pulpits fail, and sounding-boards reflect Most part an empty ineffectual sound, What chance that I, to fame so little known, Nor conversant with men or manners much, Should speak to purpose, or with better hope Crack the satiric thong? ’Twere wiser far For me, enamoured of sequestered scenes, And charmed with rural beauty, to repose, Where chance may throw me, beneath elm or vine My languid limbs, when summer sears the plains; Or when rough winter rages, on the soft And sheltered Sofa, while the nitrous air Feeds a blue flame and makes a cheerful hearth; There, undisturbed by folly, and apprised How great the danger of disturbing her, To muse in silence, or at least confine Remarks that gall so many to the few, My partners in retreat. Disgust concealed Is ofttimes proof of wisdom, when the fault Is obstinate, and cure beyond our reach.