An alderman of Cripplegate contrived;

And fome afcribe the invention to a prieft
Burly and big, and ftudious of his ease.
But, rude at first, and not with easy slope
Receding wide, they pressed against the ribs,
And bruifed the fide; and, elevated high,
Taught the raised shoulders to invade the ears.
Long time elapfed or ever our rugged fires
Complained, though incommodiously pent in,
And ill at ease behind. The ladies firft
'Gan murmur, as became the fofter fex.
Ingenious fancy, never better pleased

Than when employed to accommodate the fair,
Heard the fweet moan with pity, and devised
The foft fettee; one elbow at each end,
And in the midft an elbow it received,

United yet divided, twain at once.

So fit two kings of Brentford on one throne;
And fo two citizens who take the air,

Close packed, and smiling, in a chaise and one.
But relaxation of the languid frame,

By foft recumbency of outftretched limbs,
Was bliss reserved for happier days. So flow
The growth of what is excellent; fo hard
To attain perfection in this nether world.

Thus firft neceffity invented ftools,
Convenience next fuggefted elbow-chairs,

And luxury the accomplished soFA laft.

The nurse fleeps fweetly, hired to watch the fick, Whom fnoring fhe disturbs. As sweetly he, Who quits the coach-box at the midnight hour To sleep within the carriage more secure, His legs depending at the open door. Sweet fleep enjoys the curate in his desk, The tedious rector drawling over his head; And sweet the clerk below. But neither sleep 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 enjoyed by curate in his desk, Nor yet the dozings of the clerk, are sweet, Compared with the repofe the SOFA yields.

Oh may I live exempted (while I live
Guiltlefs of pampered appetite obscene)
From pangs arthritic, that infeft the toe
Of libertine excefs. The SOFA fuits
The gouty limb, 'tis true; but gouty limb,
Though on a SOFA, may I never feel:

For I have loved the rural walk through lanes

Of graffy fwarth, clofe cropt by nibbling sheep,
And fkirted thick with intertexture firm

Of thorny boughs; have loved the rural walk
Over hills, through vallies, and by rivers' brink,
Ever fince a truant boy I paffed my bounds
To enjoy a ramble on the banks of Thames ;
And ftill remember, nor without regret

Of hours, that forrow fince has much endeared,
How oft, my flice of pocket ftore confumed,
Still hungering, pennyless, and far from home,
I fed on fcarlet hips and ftony haws,
Or blufhing crabs, or berries, that imbofs
The bramble, black as jet, or floes auftere.
Hard fare! but fuch as boyifh appetite
Difdains not; nor the palate, undepraved
By culinary arts, unfavory deems.
No SOFA then awaited my return;
Nor SOFA then I needed. Youth repairs
His wafted fpirits quickly, by long toil
Incurring fhort fatigue; and, though our years,
As life declines, fpeed rapidly away,

And not a year but pilfers as he goes

Some youthful grace, that age would gladly keep; A tooth or auburn lock, and by degrees

Their length and colour from the locks they spare; The elaftic fpring of an unwearied foot,

That mounts the ftile with ease, or leaps the fence, That play of lungs, inhaling and again Respiring freely the fresh air, that makes Swift pace or fteep ascent no toil to me, Mine have not pilfered yet; nor yet impaired My relish of fair prospect; scenes that foothed Or charmed me young, no longer young, I find Still foothing, and of power to charm me still. And witness, dear companion of my walks, Whose arm this twentieth winter I perceive Faft locked in mine, with pleasure such as love, Confirmed by long experience of thy worth And well-tried virtues, could alone infpireWitness a joy that thou haft doubled long. Thou knoweft my praise of nature moft fincere, And that my raptures are not conjured up To ferve occafions of poetic pomp,

But genuine, and art partner of them all.

How oft upon yon eminence our pace

Has flackened to a paufe, and we have borne

The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew,
While admiration, feeding at the eye,

And fill unfated, dwelt upon the scene.

Thence with what pleasure have we juft difcerned
The diftant plough flow moving, and befide

His labouring team, that swerved not from the track,

The sturdy fwain diminished to a boy!
Here Oufe, flow winding through a level plain
Of fpacious meads with cattle fprinkled over,
Conducts the eye along his finuous course
Delighted. There, faft rooted in their bank,
Stand, never overlooked, our favourite elms,
That fcreen the herdsman's folitary hut;
While far beyond, and overthwart the ftream
That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale,
The floping land recedes into the clouds ;
Displaying on its varied fide the grace

Of hedge-row beauties numberlefs, fquare tower,
Tall fpire, from which the found of cheerful bells
Juft undulates upon the liftening ear,

Groves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote.
Scenes must be beautiful, which daily viewed
Please daily, and whose novelty furvives
Long knowledge and the fcrutiny of years.
Praife juftly due to thofe that I defcribe.

Nor rural fights alone, but rural founds, Exhilarate the spirit, and reftore The tone of languid Nature. Mighty winds, That sweep the skirt of fome far-fpreading wood Of ancient growth, make mufic not unlike The dafh of ocean on his winding shore,