Upon their jutting chests. He, formed to bear The pelting brunt of the tempestuous night, 110 With half-shut eyes and puckered cheeks and teeth Presented bare against the storm, plods on. One hand secures his hat, save when with both He brandishes his pliant length of whip, Resounding oft, and never heard in vain. 115 Oh happy, and, in my account, denied That sensibility of pain with which Refinement is endued, thrice happy thou! Thy frame, robust and hardy, feels indeed The piercing cold, but feels it unimpaired; 120 The learned finger never need explore Thy vigorous pulse, and the unhealthful East, That breathes the spleen, and searches every bone Of the infirm, is wholesome air to thee. Thy days roll on exempt from household care; 125 Thy waggon is thy wife; and the poor beasts That drag the dull companion to and fro, Thine helpless charge, dependent on thy care. Ah, treat them kindly! rude as thou appearest, Yet show that thou hast mercy, which the great, 130 With needless hurry whirled from place to place, Humane as they would seem, not always show. Poor, yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat, Such claim compassion in a night like this, And have a friend in every feeling heart. 135 Warmed, while it lasts, by labour, all day long They brave the season, and yet find at eve, Ill-clad and fed but sparely, time to cool. The frugal housewife trembles when she lights Her scanty stock of brushwood, blazing clear, 140 But dying soon, like all terrestrial joys. The few small embers left she nurses well; And while her infant race, with outspread hands And crowded knees, sit cowering o'er the sparks, Retires, content to quake, so they be warmed. 145 The man feels least, as more inured than she To winter, and the current in his veins More briskly moved by his severer toil; Yet he, too, finds his own distress in theirs. The taper soon extinguished, which I saw 150 Dangled along at the cold finger's end Just when the day declined, and the brown loaf Lodged on the shelf, half-eaten without sauce Of sav'ry cheese, or butter costlier still, Sleep seems their only refuge. For, alas! 155 Where penury is felt the thought is chained, And sweet colloquial pleasures are but few. With all this thrift they thrive not. All the care Saves the small inventory, bed and stool, 160 Skillet and old carved chest, from public sale. They live, and live without extorted alms From grudging hands, but other boast have none To soothe their honest pride, that scorns to beg; Nor comfort else, but in their mutual love. 165 I praise you much, ye meek and patient pair, For ye are worthy; choosing rather far A dry but independent crust, hard-earned And eaten with a sigh, than to endure The rugged frowns and insolent rebuffs 170 Of knaves in office, partial in the work Of distribution, liberal of their aid To clamorous importunity in rags, But ofttimes deaf to suppliants who would blush To wear a tattered garb however coarse, 175 Whom famine cannot reconcile to filth; These ask with painful shyness, and, refused Because deserving, silently retire. But be ye of good courage! Time itself Shall much befriend you. Time shall give increase, To better deeds, he bundles up the spoil, In unsuspecting pomp; twitched from the perch, Did pity of their sufferings warp aside His every action, and imbrutes the man. 220 Oh for a law to noose the villain's neck Who starves his own; who persecutes the blood Pass where we may, through city or through town, 225 Village or hamlet, of this merry land, Though lean and beggared, every twentieth pace Conducts the unguarded nose to such a whiff Of stale debauch, forth-issuing from the styes That law has licensed, as makes Temperance reel. 230 There sit, involved and lost in curling clouds Of Indian fume, and guzzling deep, the boor, The lackey, and the groom. The craftsman there Takes a Lethean leave of all his toil; Smith, cobbler, joiner, he that plies the shears, Perched on the sign-post, holds with even hand Like those which modern senators employ, Which some may practise with politer grace, 255 To indigence and rapine; till at last Shakes her encumbered lap, and casts them out. 260 That, like the filth with which the peasant feeds The excise is fattened with the rich result Drink and be mad then; 'tis your country bids! Her cause demands the assistance of your throats; 270 Ye all can swallow, and she asks no more. Would I had fallen upon those happier days 275 Nymphs were Dianas then, and swains had hearts From courts dismissed, found shelter in the groves. Upon the yielding herbage (so they sing), 280 Then were not all effaced. Then speech profane 290 That to suppose a scene where she presides Than the fair shepherdess of old romance, Indebted to some smart wig-weaver's hand Herrig-Förster, British Authors. 20 Ill propped upon French heels; she might be deemed Too proud for dairy-work, or sale of eggs. The town has tinged the country; and the stain The worse for what it soils. The fashion runs 815 Scenes rarely graced with rural manners now. The unguarded door was safe; men did not watch III. Book V, The Winter Morning Walk, 11. 1-57: The foddering of cattle-The woodman. 'Tis morning; and the sun, with ruddy orb Ascending, fires the horizon; while the clouds, Seen through the leafless wood. His slanting ray 15 I view the muscular proportioned limb Transformed to a lean shank; the shapeless pair, |