SING the SOFA. I, who lately fang
Truth, Hope, and Charity *, and touch'd with awe
The folemn chords, and with a trembling hand,
Escap'd with pain from that advent'rous flight,
Now feek repofe upon an humbler theme;
The theme though humble, yet auguft and proud
Th' occafion-for the Fair commands the fong.
Time was, when clothing fumptuous or for ufe, Save their own painted fkins, our fires had none. As yet black breeches were not; fatin smooth,
Or velvet foft, or plufh with fhaggy pile:
The hardy chief upon the rugged rock
Wash'd by the fea, or on the grav❜ly bank
Thrown up by wintry torrents roaring loud,
Fearless of wrong, repos'd his weary strength.
Those barb'rous ages paft, fucceeded next
The birth-day of invention; weak at firft,
Dull in defign, and clumsy to perform.
Joint-ftools were then created; on three legs
Upborn they stood. Three legs upholding firm
A maffy flab, in fashion fquare or round.
On such a stool immortal Alfred sat,
And fway'd the fceptre of his infant realms:
And fuch in ancient halls and manfions drear
May still be feen; but perforated fore,
And drill'd in holes, the folid oak is found,
By worms voracious eating through and through.
At length a generation more refin'd
Improv'd the fimple plan; made three legs four,
Gave them a twisted form vermicular,
And o'er the feat, with plenteous wadding ftuff'd,
Induc'd a fplendid cover, green and blue,
Yellow and red, of tap'ftry richly wrought
And woven clofe, or needle-work fublime.
There might ye see the piony spread wide,
The full-blown rofe, the fhepherd and his lafs,
Lap-dog and lambkin with black staring eyes,
And parrots with twin cherries in their beak.
Now came the cane from India, smooth and bright With Nature's varnish; sever'd into stripes That interlac'd each other, these supplied Of texture firm a lattice-work, that brac'd The new machine, and it became a chair. But restless was the chair; the back erect Diftrefs'd the weary loins, that felt no eafe; The flipp'ry feat betray'd the fliding part
That press'd it, and the feet hung dangling down, Anxious in vain to find the diftant floor.
These for the rich: the reft, whom fate had plac'd
In modeft mediocrity, content
With base materials, fat on well-tann'd hides,
Obdurate and unyielding, glaffy smooth,
With here and there a tuft of crimson yarn,
Or fcarlet crewel, in the cushion fixt;
If cushion might be call'd, what harder feem'd
Than the firm oak of which the frame was form'd.
No want of timber then was felt or fear'd
In Albion's happy ifle. The umber stood
Pond'rous and fixt by its own massy weight.
But elbows ftill were wanting; thefe, fome fay,
An alderman of Cripplegate contriv'd:
And fome afcribe th' invention to a priest
Burly and big, and ftudious of his ease.
But, rude at first, and not with easy flope
Receding wide, they prefs'd against the ribs,
And bruis'd the fide; and, elevated high,
Taught the rais'd shoulders to invade the ears.
Long time elaps'd or e'er our rugged fires
Complain'd, though incommodiously pent in,
And ill at ease behind. The ladies firft
'Gan murmur, as became the softer sex.
Ingenious fancy, never better pleas'd
Than when employ'd t' accommodate the fair,
Heard the sweet moan with pity, and devis'd
The foft fettee; one elbow at each end,
And in the midst an elbow it receiv'd,
United yet divided, twain at once.
So fit two kings of Brentford on one throne;
And fo two citizens who take the air,
Close pack'd, and smiling, in a chaise and one.
But relaxation of the languid frame,
By foft recumbency of outftretch'd limbs,
Was blifs referv'd for happier days. So flow
The growth of what is excellent; fo hard
T' attain perfection in this nether world.
Thus firft neceffity invented ftools,
Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs,
And luxury th' accomplish'd soFA laft.
The nurse fleeps fweetly, hir'd to watch the fick, Whom fnoring the difturbs. As sweetly he Who quits the coach-box at the midnight hour To fleep within the carriage more fecure, His legs depending at the open door. Sweet fleep enjoys the curate in his desk, The tedious rector drawling o'er his head; And sweet the clerk below. But neither fleep Of lazy nurse, who fnores the fick man dead, Nor his who quits the box at midnight hour To flumber in the carriage more fecure, Nor fleep enjoy'd by curate in his desk, Nor yet the dozings of the clerk, are sweet, Compar'd with the repofe the SOFA yields.
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