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Crave them a twisted form vermicular,
And o'er the seat, with plenteons wadding

stuff’d,
Induc'd a splendid cover, green and blue,
Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wrought
And woven close, of needlework sublime.
There might ye see the piony spread wide,
The full-blown rose, the shepherd and his lass,
· Lapdog 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 Distress'd the weary loins, that felt no ease; The slipp'ry seat betrayed the sliding part That press'd it, and the feet hung dangling

down, Anxious in vain to find the distant floor. These for the rich; the rest, whom fate had

plac'd In modest mediocrity, content With base materials, sat on well-tann'd hides, Obdurate and unyielding, glassy smooth, With here and there a luft of crimson yarn, Or scarlet crewel, in the cushion fix'd, If cushion might be call'd, what harder seem'd Than the firm oak, of which the frame was

orm'd.

No want of timber then was felt or lear's
In Albion's happy isle. The lumber stood
Pond'rous and fix'd by its own massy weight.
But elbows still were wanting; these, some say
An alderman of Cripplegate contrived;
And some ascribe th' invention to a priest
Burly, and big, and studious of his ease.
But rude at first, and not with easy slope
Receding wide, they press'd against the ribs,
And bruis'd the side; and, elevated high,
Taught the rais'd shoulders to invade the ears.
Long time elaps'd or e'er our rugged sires
Complain’d, though incommodiously pent in,
And ill at ease behind. The ladies first
'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 soft settce; one elbow at each end,
And in the midst an elbow it receiv'd,
United, yet divided, twain at once.
So sit two kings of Brentford on one throne,
And so two citizens, who take the air,
Close pack'd, and smiling, in a chaise and one
But relaxation of the languid frame,
By soft recumbency of outstretch'd limbs,
Was bliss reserv’d for happier days. So slow
The growth of what is excellent; so hard
T' attain perfection in this nether world.
Thus first Necessity invented stools,
Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs,
And Luxury th' accomplish'd Sofa last.

Tue nurse sleeps sweetly, hir'd to watch .hs

sick Whom snoring she disturbs. As sweetly he, Who quits the coach-box at a midnight hour, To sleep within the carriage more secure, His legs depending at the open door. Sweet sleep enjoys the curate in his desk, The tedious rector drawling o'er his head; And sweet the clerk below. But neither sleep Of lazy nurse, who snores the sick man dead; Nor his, who quits the box at midnight hour To slumber in the carriage more secure; Nor sleep enjoy'd by curate in his desk; Nor yet ihe dozings of the clerk, are sweet, Compar'd with the repose the Sofa yields.

O may I live exempted (while I live Guiltless of pamper'd appetite obscene) Erom pangs arthritic, that infest the toe Of libertine Excess. The Sofa suits The gouty limb, 't is true : but gouty limi, Though on a Sofa, may I never feel : For I have lov'd the rural walk through lanes Of grassy swarth, close cropp'd by nibbling

sheep, And skirted thick with intertexture firm Of thorny boughs; have lov'd the rural walk D'er hills, through valleys, and by rivers' brink E'er since a truant boy I pass'd my bounds T'enjoy a ramble on the banks of Thames; And still remember, not without regret, Of hours, that sorrow since has much endear'a, Tow oft my slice of pocket store consum'd,

Still hung'ring, pennyless, and fai ironi home,
I fed on scarlet hips and stony haws,
Or blushing crabs, or berries, that emboss
The bramble, black as jet, or sloes austere.
Hard fare! but such as boyish appetite
Disdains not; nor the palate, undeprav'd
By culinary arts, unsav'ry deems.
No Sofa then awaited my return;
Nor Sofa then I needed. Youth repairs
His wasted spirits quickly, by long toil
Incurring short fatigue; and, though our years,
As life declines, speed 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 elastic spring of an unwearied foot, That mounts the stile with ease, or leaps the

fence; That play of lungs, inhaling and again Respiring freely the fresh air, that makes · Swift pace or steep ascent no toil to me, Mine have not pilfer'd yet; nor yet impair’d My relish of fair prospect; scenes that sooth'd Or charm’d me young, no longer young, I find Still soothing, and of pow'r to charm me still. And witness, dear companion of my walks, Whose arm this twentienth winter I perceive Fast lock'd in mine, with pleasure such as lave, Confirm'd by long experience of thy worth

And well-ried virtues, could alone insp.re--
Witness a joy that thou hast doubled long.
Thou know'st my praise of nature most sincere.
And that my raptures are not conjur’d up
To serve occasions of poetic pomp,
Put genuine, and art partner of them all.
How oft upon yon eminence our pace
Has slacken’d to a pause, and we have borne
The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew
While Admiration, feeding at the eye,
And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene ;
Thence, with what pleasure have we just dis.

cern'd The distant plough slow moving, and beside His lab’ring team, that swerv'd not from the

track, The sturdy swain diminish'd to a boy! Here Ouse, slow winding through a level plain Of spacious meads, with cattle sprinkled o'er, Conducts the eye along his sinuous course Delighted. There, fast rooted in their bank, Stand, never overlook'd, our fav’rite elms, That screen the herdsmen's solitary hut; While far beyond, and overthwart the stream, That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale, The sloping land recedes into the clouds; Displaying on its varied side the grace Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tow'r. Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells Just undulates upon the list’ning ear, Groves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote. Scenes must be beautiful, which daily view'd

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