THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.

THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE .

The Castle hight of Indolence , And its false Luxury ; Where for a little Time , alas ! We liv'd right jollily . I. O MORTAL Man , who livest here by Toil , Do not complain of this thy hard Estate ; That like an Emmet thou must ever moil , Is a sad Sentence of an ancient Date : And , certes , there is for it Reason great ; For , though sometimes it makes thee weep and wail , And curse thy Star , and early drudge and late , Withouten That would come an heavier Bale , Loose Life , unruly Passions , and Diseases pale . II . In lowly Dale , fast by a River's Side , With woody Hill o'er Hill encompass'd round , A most enchanting Wizard did abide , Than whom a Fiend more fell is no where found . It was , I ween , a lovely Spot of Ground ; And there a Season atween June and May , Half prankt with Spring , with Summer half imbrown'd , A listless Climate made , where , Sooth to say , No living Wight could work , ne cared even for Play . III . Was nought around but Images of Rest : Sleep-soothing Groves , and quiet Lawns between ; And flowery Beds that slumbrous Influence kest , From Poppies breath'd ; and Beds of pleasant Green , Where never yet was creeping Creature seen . Mean time unnumber'd glittering Streamlets play'd , And hurled every-where their Waters sheen ; That , as they bicker'd through the sunny Glade , Though restless still themselves , a lulling Murmur made . IV . Join'd to the Prattle of the purling Rills , Were heard the lowing Herds along the Vale , And Flocks loud-bleating from the distant Hills , And vacant Shepherds piping in the Dale ; And now and then sweet Philomel would wail , Or Stock-Doves plain amid the Forest deep , That drowsy rustled to the sighing Gale ; And still a Coil the Grashopper did keep : Yet all these Sounds yblent inclined all to Sleep . V. Full in the Passage of the Vale , above , A sable , silent , solemn Forest stood ; Where nought but shadowy Forms were seen to move , As Idless fancy'd in her dreaming Mood . And up the Hills , on either Side , a Wood Of blackening Pines , ay waving to and fro , Sent forth a sleepy Horror through the Blood ; And where this Valley winded out , below , The murmuring Main was heard , and scarcely heard , to flow . VI . A pleasing Land of Drowsy-hed it was : Of Dreams that wave before the half-shut Eye ; And of gay Castles in the Clouds that pass , For ever flushing round a Summer-Sky : There eke the soft Delights , that witchingly Instil a wanton Sweetness through the Breast , And the calm Pleasures always hover'd nigh ; But whate'er smack'd of Noyance , or Unrest , Was far far off expell'd from this delicious Nest . VII . The Landskip such , inspiring perfect Ease , Where INDOLENCE ( for so the Wizard hight ) Close-hid his Castle mid embowering Trees , That half shut out the Beams of Phoebus bright , And made a Kind of checker'd Day and Night . Mean while , unceasing at the massy Gate , Beneath a spacious Palm , the wicked Wight Was plac'd ; and to his Lute , of cruel Fate , And Labour harsh , complain'd , lamenting Man's Estate . VIII . Thither continual Pilgrims crouded still , From all the Roads of Earth that pass there by : For , as they chaunc'd to breathe on neighbouring Hill , The Freshness of this Valley smote their Eye , And drew them ever and anon more nigh , 'Till clustering round th'Enchanter false they hung , Ymolten with his Syren Melody ; While o'er th' enfeebling Lute his Hand he flung , And to the trembling Chords these tempting Verses sung : IX . " Behold ! ye Pilgrims of this Earth , behold ! " See all but Man with unearn'd Pleasure gay . " See her bright Robes the Butterfly unfold , " Broke from her wintry Tomb in Prime of May . " What youthful Bride can equal her Array ? " Who can with Her for easy Pleasure vie ? " From Mead to Mead with gentle Wing to stray , " From Flower to Flower on balmy Gales to fly , " Is all she has to do beneath the radiant Sky . X. " Behold the merry Minstrels of the Morn , " The swarming Songsters of the careless Grove , " Ten thousand Throats ! that , from the flowering Thorn , " Hymn their Good GOD , and carol sweet of Love , " Such grateful kindly Raptures them emove : " They neither plough , nor sow ; ne , fit for Flail , " E'er to the Barn the nodding Sheaves they drove ; " Yet theirs each Harvest dancing in the Gale , " Whatever crowns the Hill , or smiles along the Vale . XI . " Outcast of Nature , Man ! the wretched Thrall " Of bitter-dropping Sweat , of sweltry Pain , " Of Cares that eat away thy Heart with Gall , " And of the Vices , an inhuman Train , " That all proceed from savage Thirst of Gain : " For when hard-hearted Interest first began " To poison Earth , Astraea left the Plain ; " Guile , Violence , and Murder seiz'd on Man ; " And , for soft milky Streams , with Blood the Rivers ran . XII . " Come , ye , who still the cumbrous Load of Life " Push hard up Hill ; but as the farthest Steep " You trust to gain , and put an End to Strife , " Down thunders back the Stone with mighty Sweep , " And hurls your Labours to the Valley deep , " For-ever vain : come , and , withouten Fee , " I in Oblivion will your Sorrows steep , " Your Cares , your Toils , will steep you in a Sea " Of full Delight : O come , ye weary Wights , to me ! XIII . " With me , you need not rise at early Dawn , " To pass the joyless Day in various Stounds : " Or , louting low , on upstart Fortune fawn , " And sell fair Honour for some paltry Pounds ; " Or through the City take your dirty Rounds , " To cheat , and dun , and lye , and Visit pay , " Now flattering base , now giving secret Wounds ; " Or proul in Courts of Law for human Prey , " In venal Senate thieve , or rob on broad High-way . XIV . " No Cocks , with me , to rustic Labour call , " From Village on to Village sounding clear ; " To tardy Swain no shrill-voic'd Matrons squall ; " No Dogs , no Babes , no Wives , to stun your Ear ; " No Hammers thump ; no horrid Blacksmith sear , " Ne noisy Tradesman your sweet Slumbers start , " With Sounds that are a Misery to hear : " But all is calm , as would delight the Heart " Of Sybarite of old , all Nature , and all Art . XV. " Here nought but Candour reigns , indulgent Ease , " Good-natur'd Lounging , Sauntering up and down : " They who are pleas'd themselves must always please ; " On Others' Ways they never squint a Frown , " Nor heed what haps in Hamlet or in Town . " Thus , from the Source of tender Indolence , " With milky Blood the Heart is overflown , " Is sooth'd and sweeten'd by the social Sense ; " For Interest , Envy , Pride , and Strife are banish'd hence . XVI . " What , what , is Virtue , but Repose of Mind ? " A pure ethereal Calm ! that knows no Storm ; " Above the Reach of wild Ambition's Wind , " Above those Passions that this World deform , " And torture Man , a proud malignant Worm ! " But here , instead , soft Gales of Passion play , " And gently stir the Heart , thereby to form " A quicker Sense of Joy ; as Breezes stray " Across th' enliven'd Skies , and make them still more gay . XVII . " The Best of Men have ever lov'd Repose : " They hate to mingle in the filthy Fray ; " Where the Soul sowrs , and gradual Rancour grows , " Imbitter'd more from peevish Day to Day . " Even Those whom Fame has lent her fairest Ray , " The most renown'd of worthy Wights of Yore , " From a base World at last have stolen away : " So SCIPIO , to the soft Cumaean Shore " Retiring , tasted Joy he never knew before . XVIII . " But if a little Exercise you chuse , " Some Zest for Ease , 'tis not forbidden here . " Amid the Groves you may indulge the Muse , " Or tend the Blooms , and deck the vernal Year ; " Or softly stealing , with your watry Gear , " Along the Brooks , the crimson-spotted Fry " You may delude : The whilst , amus'd , you hear " Now the hoarse Stream , and now the Zephir's Sigh , " Attuned to the Birds , and woodland Melody . XIX . " O grievous Folly ! to heap up Estate , " Losing the Days you see beneath the Sun ; " When , sudden , comes blind unrelenting Fate , " And gives th' untasted Portion you have won , " With ruthless Toil , and many a Wretch undone , " To Those who mock you gone to Pluto's Reign , " There with sad Ghosts to pine , and Shadows dun : " But sure it is of Vanities most vain , " To toil for what you here untoiling may obtain . " XX . He ceas'd . But still their trembling Ears retain'd The deep Vibrations of his witching Song ; That , by a Kind of Magic Power , constrain'd To enter in , pell-mell , the listening Throng . Heaps pour'd on Heaps , and yet they slip'd along In silent Ease : as when beneath the Beam Of Summer-Moons , the distant Woods among , Or by some Flood all silver'd with the Gleam , The soft-embodied Fays through airy Portal stream . XXI . By the smooth Demon so it order'd was , And here his baneful Bounty first began : Though some there were who would not further pass , And his alluring Baits suspected han . The Wise distrust the too fair-spoken Man . Yet through the Gate they cast a wishful Eye : Not to move on , perdie , is all they can ; For do their very Best they cannot fly , But often each Way look , and often sorely sigh . XXII . When this the watchful wicked Wizard saw , With sudden Spring he leap'd upon them strait ; And soon as touch'd by his unhallow'd Paw , They found themselves within the cursed Gate ; Full hard to be repass'd , like That of Fate . Not stronger were of old the Giant-Crew , Who sought to pull high Jove from regal State ; Though feeble Wretch he seem'd , of sallow Hue : Certes , who bides his Grasp , will that Encounter rue . XXIII . For whomsoe'er the Villain takes in Hand , Their Joints unknit , their Sinews melt apace ; As lithe they grow as any Willow-Wand , And of their vanish'd Force remains no Trace : So when a Maiden fair , of modest Grace , In all her buxom blooming May of Charms , Is seized in some Losel's hot Embrace , She waxeth very weakly as she warms , Then sighing yields Her up to Love's delicious Harms . XXIV . Wak'd by the Croud , slow from his Bench arose A comely full-spred Porter , swoln with Sleep : His calm , broad , thoughtless Aspect breath'd Repose ; And in sweet Torpor he was plunged deep , Ne could himself from ceaseless Yawning keep ; While o'er his Eyes the drowsy Liquor ran , Through which his half-wak'd Soul would faintly peep . Then taking his black Staff he call'd his Man , And rous'd himself as much as rouse himself he can . XXV . The Lad leap'd lightly at his Master's Call . He was , to weet , a little roguish Page , Save Sleep and Play who minded nought at all , Like most the untaught Striplings of his Age . This Boy he kept each Band to disengage , Garters and Buckles , Task for him unfit , But ill-becoming his grave Personage , And which his portly Paunch would not permit , So this same limber Page to All performed It . XXVI . Mean time the Master-Porter wide display'd Great Store of Caps , of Slippers , and of Gowns ; Wherewith he Those who enter'd in , array'd ; Loose , as the Breeze that plays along the Downs , And waves the Summer-Woods when Evening frowns . O fair Undress , best Dress ! it checks no Vein , But every flowing Limb in Pleasure drowns , And heightens Ease with Grace . This done , right fain , Sir Porter sat him down , and turn'd to Sleep again . XXVII . Thus easy-rob'd , they to the Fountain sped , That in the Middle of the Court up-threw A Stream , high-spouting from its liquid Bed , And falling back again in drizzly Dew : There Each deep Draughts , as deep he thirsted , drew . It was a Fountain of Nepenthe rare : Whence , as Dan HOMER sings , huge Pleasaunce grew , And sweet Oblivion of vile earthly Care ; Fair gladsome waking Thoughts , and joyous Dreams more fair . XXVIII . This Rite perform'd , All inly pleas'd and still , Withouten Tromp , was Proclamation made . " Ye Sons of INDOLENCE , do what you will ; " And wander where you list , through Hall or Glade : " Be no Man's Pleasure for another's staid ; " Let Each as likes him best his Hours employ , " And curs'd be he who minds his Neighbour's Trade ! " Here dwells kind Ease and unreproving Joy : " He little merits Bliss who Others can annoy . XXIX . Strait of these endless Numbers , swarming round , As thick as idle Motes in sunny Ray , Not one eftsoons in View was to be found , But every Man stroll'd off his own glad Way . Wide o'er this ample Court's blank Area , With all the Lodges that thereto pertain'd , No living Creature could be seen to stray ; While Solitude , and perfect Silence reign'd : So that to think you dreamt you almost was constrain'd . XXX . As when a Shepherd of the Those Islands on the western Coast of Scotland called the Hebrides . Hebrid-Isles , Plac'd far amid the melancholy Main , ( Whether it be lone Fancy him beguiles ; Or that aerial Beings sometimes deign To stand , embodied , to our Senses plain ) Sees on the naked Hill , or Valley low , The whilst in Ocean Phoebus dips his Wain , A vast Assembly moving to and fro : Then all at once in Air dissolves the wondrous Show . XXXI . Ye Gods of Quiet , and of Sleep profound ! Whose soft Dominion o'er this Castle sways , And all the widely-silent Places round , Forgive me , if my trembling Pen displays What never yet was sung in mortal Lays . But how shall I attempt such arduous String ? I who have spent my Nights and nightly Days , In this Soul-deadening Place , loose-loitering ? Ah ! how shall I for this uprear my moulted Wing ? XXXII . Come on , my Muse , nor stoop to low Despair , Thou Imp of Jove , touch'd by celestial Fire ! Thou yet shalt sing of War , and Actions fair , Which the bold Sons of BRITAIN will inspire ; Of ancient Bards thou yet shalt sweep the Lyre ; Thou yet shalt tread in Tragic Pall the Stage , Paint Love's enchanting Woes , the Heroe's Ire , The Sage's Calm , the Patriot's noble Rage , Dashing Corruption down through every worthless Age . XXXIII . The Doors , that knew no shrill alarming Bell , Ne cursed Knocker ply'd by Villain's Hand , Self-open'd into Halls , where , who can tell What Elegance and Grandeur wide expand The Pride of Turkey and of Persia Land ? Soft Quilts on Quilts , on Carpets Carpets spread , And Couches stretch around in seemly Band ; And endless Pillows rise to prop the Head ; So that each spacious Room was one full-swelling Bed . XXXIV . And every where huge cover'd Tables stood , With Wines high-flavour'd and rich Viands crown'd ; Whatever sprightly Juice or tasteful Food On the green Bosom of this Earth are found , And all old Ocean genders in his Round : Some Hand unseen These silently display'd , Even undemanded , by a Sign or Sound ; You need but wish , and , instantly obey'd , Fair-rang'd the Dishes rose , and thick the Glasses play'd . XXXV. Here Freedom reign'd , without the least Alloy ; Nor Gossip's Tale , nor ancient Maiden's Gall , Nor saintly Spleen durst murmur at our Joy , And with envenom'd Tongue our Pleasures pall . For why ? There was but One great Rule for All ; To wit , That each should work his own Desire , And eat , drink , study , sleep , as it may fall , Or melt the Time in Love , or wake the Lyre , And carol what , unbid , the Muses might inspire . XXXVI. The Rooms with costly Tapestry were hung , Where was inwoven many a gentle Tale ; Such as of old the rural Poets sung , Or of Arcadian or Sicilian Vale : Reclining Lovers , in the lonely Dale , Pour'd forth at large the sweetly-tortur'd Heart ; Or , looking tender Passion , swell'd the Gale , And taught charm'd Echo to resound their Smart ; While Flocks , Woods , Streams , around , Repose and Peace impart . XXXVII . Those pleas'd the most , where , by a cunning Hand , Depainted was the Patriarchal Age ; What Time Dan Abraham left the Chaldee Land , And pastur'd on from verdant Stage to Stage , Where Fields and Fountains fresh could best engage . Toil was not then . Of nothing took they Heed , But with wild Beasts the silvan War to wage , And o'er vast Plains their Herds and Flocks to feed : Blest Sons of Nature they ! True Golden Age indeed ! XXXVIII . Sometimes the Pencil , in cool airy Halls , Bade the gay Bloom of Vernal Landskips rise , Or Autumn's varied Shades imbrown the Walls : Now the black Tempest strikes the astonish'd Eyes ; Now down the Steep the flashing Torrent flies ; The trembling Sun now plays o'er Ocean blue , And now rude Mountains frown amid the Skies ; Whate'er Lorrain light-touch'd with softening Hue , Or savage Rosa dash'd , or learned Poussin drew . XXXIX . Each Sound too here to Languishment inclin'd , Lull'd the weak Bosom , and induced Ease . Aerial Music in the warbling Wind , At Distance rising oft , by small Degrees , Nearer and nearer came , till o'er the Trees It hung , and breath'd such Soul-dissolving Airs , As did , alas ! with soft Perdition please : Entangled deep in its enchanting Snares , The listening Heart forgot all Duties and all Cares . XL. A certain Musick , never known before , Here lull'd the pensive melancholy Mind ; Full easily obtain'd . Behoves no more , But sidelong , to the gently-waving Wind , To lay the well-tun'd Instrument reclin'd ; From which , with airy flying Fingers light , Beyond each mortal Touch the most refin'd , The God of Winds drew Sounds of deep Delight : Whence , with just Cause , This is not an Imagination of the Author ; there being in fact such an Instrument , called Aeolus's Harp , which , when placed against a little Rushing or Current of Air , produces the Effect here described . The Harp of Aeolus it hight . XLI. Ah me ! what Hand can touch the Strings so fine ? Who up the lofty Diapasan roll Such sweet , such sad , such solemn Airs divine , Then let them down again into the Soul ? Now rising Love they fan'd ; now pleasing Dole They breath'd , in tender Musings , through the Heart ; And now a graver sacred Strain they stole , As when Seraphic Hands an Hymn impart : Wild warbling Nature all , above the Reach of Art ! XLII. Such the gay Splendor , the luxurious State , Of Caliphs old , who on the Tygris' Shore , In mighty Bagdat , populous and great , Held their bright Court , where was of Ladies store ; And Verse , Love , Music still the Garland wore : When Sleep was coy , The Arabian Caliphs had Poets among the Officers of their Court , whose Office it was to do what is here mentioned . the Bard , in Waiting there , Chear'd the lone Midnight with the Muse's Lore ; Composing Music bade his Dreams be fair , And Music lent new Gladness to the Morning Air . XLIII . Near the Pavilions where we slept , still ran Soft-tinkling Streams , and dashing Waters fell , And sobbing Breezes sigh'd , and oft began ( So work'd the Wizard ) wintry Storms to swell , As Heaven and Earth they would together mell : At Doors and Windows , threatening , seem'd to call The Demons of the Tempest , growling fell , Yet the least Entrance found they none at all ; Whence sweeter grew our Sleep , secure in massy Hall . XLIV. And hither Morpheus sent his kindest Dreams , Raising a World of gayer Tinct and Grace ; O'er which were shadowy cast Elysian Gleams , That play'd , in waving Lights , from Place to Place , And shed a roseate Smile on Nature's Face . Not Titian's Pencil e'er could so array , So fleece with Clouds the pure Etherial Space ; Ne could it e'er such melting Forms display , As loose on flowery Beds all languishingly lay . XLV. No , fair Illusions ! artful Phantoms , no ! My Muse will not attempt your Fairy-Land : She has no Colours that like you can glow ; To catch your vivid Scenes too gross her Hand . But sure it is , was ne'er a subtler Band Than these same guileful Angel-seeming Sprights , Who thus in Dreams , voluptuous , soft , and bland , Pour'd all th' Arabian Heaven upon our Nights , And bless'd them oft besides with more refin'd Delights . duplicate duplicate XLVI. They were in Sooth a most enchanting Train , Even feigning Virtue ; skilful to unite With Evil Good , and strew with Pleasure Pain . But for those Fiends , whom Blood and Broils delight ; Who hurl the Wretch , as if to Hell outright , Down down black Gulphs , where sullen Waters sleep , Or hold him clambering all the fearful Night On beetling Cliffs , or pent in Ruins deep : They , till due Time should serve , were bid far hence to keep . XLVII. Ye Guardian Spirits , to whom Man in dear , From these foul Demons shield the Midnight Gloom ! Angels of Fancy and of Love , be near , And o'er the Blank of Sleep diffuse a Bloom ! Evoke the sacred Shades of Greece and Rome , And let them Virtue with a Look impart ! But chief , a while o lend us from the Tomb Those long-lost Friends for whom in Love we smart , And fill with pious Awe and Joy-mixt Woe the Heart . XLVIII . Or are you sportive — Bid the Morn of Youth Rise to new Light , and beam afresh the Days Of Innocence , Simplicity , and Truth ; To Cares estrang'd , and Manhood's thorny Ways . What Transport ! To retrace our boyish Plays , Our easy Bliss , when each Thing Joy supply'd : The Woods , the Mountains , and the warbling Maze Of the wild Brooks — But , fondly wandering wide , My Muse , resume the Task that yet doth thee abide . XLIX. One great Amusement of our Houshold was , In a huge crystal magic Globe to spy , Still as you turn'd it , all Things that do pass Upon this Ant-Hill Earth ; where constantly Of idly-busy Men the restless Fry Run bustling too and fro with foolish Haste , In search of Pleasures vain that from them fly , Or which obtain'd the Caitiffs dare not taste : When nothing is enjoy'd , can there be greater Waste ? L. Of Vanity the Mirror This was call'd . Here you a Muckworm of the Town might see , At his dull Desk , amid his Legers stall'd , Eat up with carking Care and Penurie ; Most like to Carcase parch'd on Gallow Tree . A Penny saved is a Penny got : Firm to this scoundrel Maxim keepeth he , Ne of its Rigour will he bate a Jot , Till it has quench'd his Fire , and banished his Pot . LI . Strait from the Filth of this low Grub , behold ! Comes fluttering forth a gaudy spendthrift Heir , All glossy gay , enamel'd all with Gold , The silly Tenant of the Summer-Air . In Folly lost , of Nothing takes he Care ; Pimps , Lawyers , Stewards , Harlots , Flatterers vile , And thieving Tradesmen him among them share : His Father's Ghost from Limbo-Lake , the while , Sees This , which more Damnation does upon him pile . LII. This Globe pourtray'd the Race of learned Men , Still at their Books , and turning o'er the Page , Backwards and forwards : oft they snatch the Pen , As if inspir'd , and in a Thespian Rage ; Then write , and blot , as would your Ruth engage . Why , Auhors , all this Scrawl and Scribbling sore ? To lose the present , gain the future Age , Praised to be when you can hear no more , And much enrich'd with Fame when useless worldly Store . LIII. Then would a splendid City rise to View , With Carts , and Cars , and Coaches roaring all : Wide-pour'd abroad behold the prowling Crew ; See ! how they dash along from Wall to Wall ; At every Door , hark ! how they thundering call . Good Lord ! what can this giddy Rout excite ? Why ? On each other with fell Tooth to fall ; A Neighbour's Fortune , Fame , or Peace , to blight , And make new tiresome Parties for the coming Night . LIV. The puzzling Sons of Party next appear'd , In dark Cabals and nightly Juntos met ; And now they whisper'd close , new shrugging rear'd Th' important Shoulder ; then , as if to get New Light , their twinkling Eyes were inward set . No sooner The Morning Star . Lucifer recalls Affairs , Than forth they various rush in mighty Fret ; When lo ! push'd up to Power , and crown'd their Cares , In comes another Set , and kicketh them down Stairs . LV. But what most shew'd the Vanity of Life , Was to behold the Nations all on Fire , In cruel Broils engag'd , and deadly Strife ; Most Christian Kings , inflam'd by black Desire , With Honourable Russians in their Hire , Cause War to rage , and Blood around to pour : Of this sad Work when Each begins to tire , They sit them down just where they were before , Till for new Scenes of Woe Peace shall their Force restore . LVI. To number up the Thousands dwelling here , An useless were , and eke an endless Task : From Kings , and Those who at the Helm appear , To Gipsies brown in Summer-Glades who bask . Yea many a Man perdie I could unmask , Whose Desk and Table make a solemn Show , With Tape-ty'd Trash , and Suits of Fools that ask For Place or Pension , laid in decent Row ; But These I passen by , with nameless Numbers moe . LVII. Of all the gentle Tenants of the Place , There was a Man of special grave Remark : A certain tender Gloom o'erspread his Face , Pensive not sad , in Thought involv'd not dark , As soot this Man could sing as Morning-Lark , And teach the noblest Morals of the Heart : But These his Talents were ybury'd stark ; Of the fine Stores he Nothing would impart , Which or boon Nature gave , or Nature-painting Art . LVIII. To Noontide Shades incontinent he ran , Where purls the Brook with Sleep-inviting Sound ; Or when Dan Sol to slope his Wheels began , Amid the Broom he bask'd him on the Ground , Where the wild Thyme and Camomil are found : There would he linger , till the latest Ray Of Light sat trembling on the Welkin's Bound : Then homeward through the twilight Shadows stray , Sauntring and slow . So had he passed many a Day . LIX. Yet not in thoughtless Slumber were they past : For oft the heavenly Fire , that lay conceal'd Beneath the sleeping Embers , mounted fast , And all its native Light anew reveal'd ; Oft as he travers'd the Cerulean Field , And mark'd the Clouds that drove before the Wind , Ten thousand glorious Systems would he build , Ten thousand great Ideas fill'd his Mind ; But with the Clouds they fled , and left no Tract behind . LX. With him was sometimes join'd , in silent Walk , ( Profoundly silent , for they never spoke ) One shyer still , who quite detested Talk : Oft , stung by Spleen , at once away he broke , To Groves of Pine , and broad o'ershadowing Oak ; There , inly thrill'd , he wander'd all alone , And on himself his pensive Fury wroke , Ne ever utter'd Word , save when first shone The glittering Star of Eve — " Thank Heaven ! the Day is done . " LXI. Here lurk'd a Wretch , who had not crept abroad For forty Years , ne Face of Mortal seen ; In Chamber brooding like a loathly Toad , And sure his Linnen was not very clean ; Through secret Loop-Hole , that had practis'd been Near to his Bed , his Dinner vile he took ; Unkempt , and rough , of squalid Face and Mein , Our Castle's shame ! whence , from his filthy Nook , We drove the Villain out for fitter Lair to look . LXII. One Day there chaunc'd into these Halls to rove A joyous Youth , who took you at first Sight ; Him the wild Wave of Pleasure hither drove , Before the sprightly Tempest tossing light : Certes , he was a most engaging Wight , Of social Glee , and Wit humane though keen , Turning the Night to Day and Day to Night ; For him the merry Bells had rung , I ween , If in this Nook of Quiet Bells had ever been . LXIII . But not even Pleasure to Excess is good , What most elates then sinks the Soul as low ; When Spring-Tide Joy pours in with copious Flood , The higher still th' exulting Billows flow , The farther back again they flagging go , And leave us groveling on the dreary Shore : Taught by this Son of Joy , we found it so ; Who , whilst he staid , kept in a gay Uproar Our madden'd Castle all , th' Abode of Sleep no more . LXIV . As when in Prime of June a burnish'd Fly , Sprung from the Meads , o'er which he sweeps along , Chear'd by the breathing Bloom and vital Sky , Tunes up amid these airy Halls his Song , Soothing at first the gay reposing Throng : And oft he sips their Bowl ; or nearly drown'd , He , thence recovering , drives their Beds among , And scares their tender Sleep , with Trump profound ; Then out again he flies , to wing his mazy Round . LXV. Another Guest there was , of Sense refin'd , Who felt each Worth , for every Worth he had ; Serene yet warm , humane yet firm his Mind , As little touch'd as any Man's with Bad : Him through their inmost Walks the Muses lad , To him the sacred Love of Nature lent , And sometimes would he make our Valley glad ; Whenas we found he would not here be pent , To him the better Sort this friendly Message sent . LXVI . " Come , dwell with us ! true Son of Virtue , come ! " But if , alas ! we cannot Thee persuade , " To lie content beneath our peaceful Dome , " Ne ever more to quit our quiet Glade ; " Yet when at last thy Toils , but ill apaid , " Shall dead thy Fire , and damp its Heavenly Spark , " Thou wilt be glad to seek the rural Shade , " There to indulge the Muse , and Nature mark : " We then a Lodge for Thee will rear in HAGLEY-PARK . " LXVII. Here whilom ligg'd th' ESOPUS of the Age ; But call'd by Fame , in Soul ypricked deep , A noble Pride restor'd him to the Stage , And rous'd him like a Gyant from his Sleep . Even from his Slumbers we Advantage reap : With double Force th' enliven'd Scene he wakes , Yet quits not Nature's Bounds . He knows to keep Each due Decorum : Now the Heart he shakes , And now with well-urg'd Sense th'enlighten'd Judgment takes . LXVIII. A Bard here dwelt , more fat than Bard beseems ; The following Lines of this Stanza were writ by a Friend of the Author . Who void of Envy , Guile , and Lust of Gain , On Virtue still , and Nature's pleasing Themes , Pour'd forth his unpremeditated Strain , The World forsaking with a calm Disdain : Here laugh'd he careless in his easy Seat , Here quaff'd encircled with the joyous Train ; Oft moralizing sage ; his ditty sweet He loathed much to write , ne cared to repeat . LXIX. Full oft by Holy Feet our Ground was trod , Of Clerks good Plenty here you mote espy . A little , round , fat , oily Man of God , Was one I chiefly mark'd among the Fry : He had a roguish Twinkle in his Eye , And shone all glittering with ungodly Dew , If a tight Damsel chaunc'd to trippen by ; Which when observ'd , he shrunk into his Mew , And strait would recollect his Piety anew . LXX . Nor be forgot a Tribe , who minded Nought ( Old Inmates of the Place ) but State-Affairs : They look'd , perdie , as if they deeply thought ; And on their Brow sat every Nation's Cares . The World by them is parcel'd out in Shares , When in the Hall of Smoak they Congress hold , And the sage Berry sun-burnt Mocha bears Has clear'd their inward Eye : then , smoak-enroll'd , Their Oracles break forth mysterious as of old . LXXI. Here languid Beauty kept her pale-fac'd Court : Bevies of dainty Dames , of high Degree , From every Quarter hither made Resort ; Where , from gross mortal Care and Business free , They lay , pour'd out in Ease and Luxury . Or should they a vain Shew of Work assume , Alas ! and well-a-day ! what can it be ? To knot , to twist , to range the vernal Bloom ; But far is cast the Distaff , Spinning-Wheel , and Loom . LXXII . Their only Labour was to kill the Time ; And Labour dire it is , and weary Woe . They sit , they loll , turn o'er some idle Rhyme ; Then , rising sudden , to the Glass they go , Or saunter forth , with tottering Step and slow : This soon too rude an Exercise they find ; Strait on the Couch their Limbs again they throw , Where Hours on Hours they sighing lie reclin'd , And court the vapoury God soft-breathing in the Wind . LXXIII. Now must I mark the Villainy we found , But ah ! too late , as shall eftsoons be shewn . A Place here was , deep , dreary , under Ground ; Where still our Inmates , when unpleasing grown , Diseas'd , and loathsome , privily were thrown . Far from the Light of Heaven , they languish'd there , Unpity'd uttering many a bitter Groan ; For of these Wretches taken was no Care : Fierce Fiends , and Hags of Hell , their only Nurses were . LXXIV. Alas ! the Change ! from Scenes of Joy and Rest , To this dark Den , where Sickness toss'd alway . Here Lethargy , with deadly Sleep opprest , Stretch'd on his Back a mighty Lubbard lay , Heaving his Sides , and snored Night and Day ; To stir him from his Traunce it was not eath , And his half-open'd Eyne he shut strait way : He led , I wot , the softest Way to Death , And taught withouten Pain and Strife to yield the Breath . LXXV. Of Limbs enormous , but withal unsound , Soft-swoln and pale , here lay the Hydropsy : Unwieldy Man ! with Belly monstrous round , For ever fed with watery Supply ; For still he drank , and yet he still was dry . And here a moping Mystery did sit , Mother of Spleen , in Robes of various Dye , Who vexed was full oft with ugly Fit ; And some Her frantic deem'd , and some Her deem'd a Wit . LXXVI. A Lady proud she was , of ancient Blood , Yet oft her Fear her Pride made crouchen low : She felt , or fancy'd in her fluttering Mood , All the Diseases which the Spittles know , And sought all Physick which the Shops bestow , And still new Leaches and new Drugs would try , Her Humour ever wavering to and fro ; For sometimes she would laugh , and sometimes cry , Then sudden waxed wroth , and all she knew not why . LXXVII. Fast by her Side a listless Maiden pin'd , With aching Head , and squeamish Heart-Burnings ; Pale , bloated , cold , she seem'd to hate Mankind , Yet lov'd in Secret all forbidden Things . And here the Tertian shakes his chilling Wings ; The sleepless Gout here counts the crowing Cocks , A Wolf now gnaws him , now a Serpent stings ; Whilst Apoplexy cramm'd Intemperance knocks Down to the Ground at once , as Butcher felleth Ox .

CANTO II . The Knight of Arts and Industry , And his Atchievements fair ; That , by this Castle's Overthrow , Secur'd , and crowned were . I. ESCAP'D the Castle of the Sire of Sin , Ah ! where shall I so sweet a Dwelling find ? For all around without , and all within , Nothing save what delightful was and kind , Of Goodness savouring and a tender Mind , E'er rose to View . But now another Strain , Of doleful Note , alas ! remains behind : I now must sing of Pleasure turn'd to Pain , And of the false Inchanter INDOLENCE complain . II . Is there no Patron to protect the Muse , And fence for Her Parnassus' barren Soil ? To every Labour its Reward accrues , And they are sure of Bread who swink and moil ; But a fell Tribe th' Aonian Hive despoil , As ruthless Wasps oft rob the painful Bee : Thus while the Laws not guard that noblest Toil , Ne for the Muses other Meed decree , They praised are alone , and starve right merrily . III . I care not , Fortune , what you me deny : You cannot rob me of free Nature's Grace ; You cannot shut the Windows of the Sky , Through which Aurora shews her brightening Face ; You cannot bar my constant Feet to trace The Woods and Lawns , by living Stream , at Eve : Let Health my Nerves and finer Fibres brace , And I their Toys to the great Children leave ; Of Fancy , Reason , Virtue , nought can me bereave . IV . Come then , my Muse , and raise a bolder Song ; Come , lig no more upon the Bed of Sloth , Dragging the lazy languid Line along , Fond to begin but still to finish loth , Thy half-writ Scrolls all eaten by the Moth : Arise , and sing that generous Imp of Fame , Who with the Sons of Softness nobly wroth , To sweep away this Human Lumber came , Or in a chosen Few to rouse the slumbering Flame . V. In Fairy-Land there liv'd a Knight of old , Of Feature stern , Selvaggio well yclep'd , A rough unpolish'd Man , robust and bold , But wondrous poor : he neither sow'd nor reap'd , Ne Stores in Summer for cold Winter heap'd ; In Hunting all his Days away he wore ; Now scorch'd by June , now in November steep'd , Now pinch'd by biting January sore , He still in Woods pursu'd the Libbard and the Boar . VI . As he one Morning , long before the Dawn , Prick'd through the Forest to dislodge his Prey , Deep in the winding Bosom of a Lawn , With Wood wild-fring'd , he mark'd a Taper's Ray , That from the beating Rain , and wintry Fray , Did to a lonely Cott his Steps decoy ; There , up to earn the Needments of the Day , He found Dame Poverty , nor fair nor coy : Her he compress'd , and fill'd Her with a lusty Boy . VII . Amid the green-wood Shade this Boy was bred , And grew at last a Knight of muchel Fame , Of active Mind and vigorous Lustyhed , THE KNIGHT OF ARTS AND INDUSTRY by Name . Earth was his Bed , the Boughs his Roof did frame ; He knew no Beverage but the flowing Stream ; His tasteful well-earn'd Food the silvan Game , Or the brown Fruit with which the Wood-Lands teem : The same to him glad Summer or the Winter breme . VIII . So pass'd his youthly Morning , void of Care , Wild as the Colts that through the Commons run : For him no tender Parents troubled were , He of the Forest seem'd to be the Son , And certes had been utterly undone ; But that Minerva Pity of him took , With all the Gods that love the Rural Wonne , That teach to tame the Soil and rule the Crook ; Ne did the sacred Nine disdain a gentle Look . IX . Of fertile Genius him they nurtur'd well , In every Science and in every Art , By which Mankind the thoughtless Brutes excel , That can or Use , or Joy , or Grace impart , Disclosing all the Powers of Head and Heart . Ne were the goodly Exercises spar'd , That brace the Nerves , or make the Limbs alert , And mix elastic Force with Firmness hard : Was never Knight on Ground mote be with him compar'd . X. Sometimes , with early Morn , he mounted gay The Hunter-steed , exulting o'er the Dale , And drew the roseat Breath of orient Day ; Sometimes , retiring to the secret Vale , Yclad in Steel and bright with burnish'd Mail , He strain'd the Bow , or toss'd the sounding Spear , Or darting on the Goal outstrip'd the Gale , Or wheel'd the Chariot in its Mid-Career , Or strenuous wrestled hard with many a tough Compeer . XI . At other Times he pry'd through Nature's Store , Whate'er she in th' Etherial Round contains , Whate'er she hides beneath her verdant Floor , The vegetable and the mineral Reigns ; Or else he scann'd the Globe , those small Domains , Where restless Mortals such a Turmoil keep , Its Seas , its Floods , its Mountains , and its Plains ; But more he search'd the Mind , and rous'd from Sleep Those moral Seeds whence we heroic Actions reap . XII . Nor would he scorn to stoop from high Pursuits Of heavenly Truth , and practise what she taught . Vain is the Tree of Knowledge without Fruits . Sometimes in Hand the Spade or Plough he caught , Forth-calling all with which boon Earth is fraught ; Sometimes he ply'd the strong mechanic Tool , Or rear'd the Fabrick from the finest Draught ; And oft he put himself to Neptune's School , Fighting with Winds and Waves on the vext Ocean Pool . XIII . To solace then these rougher Toils , he try'd To touch the kindling Canvass into Life ; With Nature his creating Pencil vy'd , With Nature joyous at the mimic Strife : Or , to such Shapes as grac'd Pygmalion's Wife , He hew'd the Marble ; or , with vary'd Fire , He rous'd the Trumpet and the martial Fife , Or bad the Lute sweet Tenderness inspire , Or Verses fram'd that well might wake Apollo's Lyre . XIV . Accomplish'd thus he from the Woods issu'd , Full of great Aims , and bent on bold Emprize ; The Work , which long he in his Breast had brew'd , Now to perform he ardent did devise ; To-wit , a barbarous World to civilize . Earth was till Then a boundless Forest wild ; Nought to be seen but savage Wood , and Skies ; No Cities nourish'd Arts , no Culture smil'd , No Government , no Laws , no gentle Manners mild . XV. A rugged Wight , the Worst of Brutes , was Man : On his own wretched Kind he , ruthless , prey'd ; The Strongest still the Weakest over-ran ; In every Country mighty Robbers sway'd , And Guile and ruffian Force were all their Trade . Life was not Life , but Rapine , Want , and Woe ; Which this brave Knight , in noble Anger , made To swear , he would the rascal Rout o'erthrow , For , by the Powers Divine , it should no more be so ! XVI . It would exceed the Purport of my Song , To say how this best Sun , from orient Climes , Came beaming Life and Beauty all along , Before him chasing Indolence and Crimes . Still as he pass'd , the Nations he sublimes , And calls forth Arts and Virtue with his Ray : Then Egypt , Greece and Rome their Golden Times , Successive , had ; but now in Ruins grey They lie , to slavish Sloth and Tyranny a Prey . XVII . To crown his Toils , SIR INDUSTRY then spred The swelling Sail , and made for BRITAIN'S Coast . A Sylvan Life till Then the Natives led , In the brown Shades and green-wood Forest lost , All careless rambling where it lik'd them most : Their Wealth the Wild-Deer bouncing through the Glade ; They lodg'd at large , and liv'd at Nature's Cost ; Save Spear , and Bow , withouten other Aid , Yet not the Roman Steel their naked Breast dismay'd . XVIII . He lik'd the Soil , he lik'd the clement Skies , He lik'd the verdant Hills and flowery Plains . Be This my great my chosen Isle ( he cries ) This , whilst my Labours LIBERTY sustains , This Queen of Ocean all Assault disdains . Nor lik'd he less the Genius of the Land , To Freedom apt and persevering Pains , Mild to obey , and generous to command , Temper'd by forming HEAVEN with kindest firmest Hand . XIX . Here , by Degrees , his Master-Work arose , Whatever Arts and Industry can frame : Whatever finish'd Agriculture knows , Fair Queen of Arts ! from Heaven itself who came , When Eden flourish'd in unspotted Fame : And still with Her sweet Innocence we find , And tender Peace , and Joys without a Name , That , while they rapture , tranquillize the Mind ; Nature and Art at once , Delight and Use combin'd . XX . Then Towns he quicken'd by mechanic Arts , And bade the fervent City glow with Toil ; Bade social Commerce raise renowned Marts , Join Land to Land , and marry Soil to Soil , Unite the Poles , and without bloody Spoil Bring home of either Ind the gorgeous Stores ; Or , should Despotic Rage the World embroil , Bade Tyrants tremble on remotest Shores , While o'er th'encircling Deep BRITANNIA'S Thunder roars . XXI . The drooping Muses then he westward call'd , From the fam'd City Constantinople . by Propontis Sea , What Time the Turk th'enfeebled Grecian thrall'd ; Thence from their cloister'd Walks he set them free , And brought them to another Castalie : Where Isis many a famous Noursling breeds ; Or where old Cam soft-paces o'er the Lea , In pensive Mood , and tunes his Doric Reeds , The whilst his Flocks at large the lonely Shepherd feeds . XXII . Yet the fine Arts were what he finish'd least . For why ? They are the Quintessence of All , The Growth of labouring Time , and slow increast ; Unless , as seldom chances , it should fall , That mighty Patrons the coy Sisters call Up to the Sun-shine of uncumber'd Ease , Where no rude Care the mounting Thought may thrall , And where they nothing have to do but please : Ah , gracious God ! thou know'st they ask no other Fees . XXIII . But now , alas ! we live too late in Time : Our Patrons now even grudge that little Claim , Except to such as sleek the soothing Rhyme ; And yet , forsooth , they wear MAECENAS' Name , Poor Sons of puft-up Vanity , not Fame ! Unbroken Spirits , chear ! still , still remains Th' Eternal Patron , LIBERTY ; whose Flame , While she protects , inspires the noblest Strains . The best , and sweetest far , are Toil-created Gains . XXIV . Whenas the Knight had fram'd , in BRITAIN-LAND , A matchless Form of glorious Government ; In which the sovereign Laws alone command , Laws stablish'd by the public free Consent , Whose Majesty is to the Sceptre lent : When this great Plan , with each dependent Art , Was settled firm , and to his Heart's Content , Then sought he from the toilsome Scene to part , And let Life's vacant Eve breathe Quiet through the Heart . XXV . For This he chose a Farm in Deva's Vale , Where his long Alleys peep'd upon the Main . In this calm Seat he drew the healthful Gale , Commix'd the Chief , the Patriot , and the Swain , The happy Monarch of his Sylvan Train ! Here , sided by the Guardians of the Fold , He walk'd his Rounds , and chear'd his blest Domain ; His Days , the Days of unstain'd Nature , roll'd , Replete with Peace and Joy , like Patriarch's of old . XXVI . Witness , ye lowing Herds , who lent him Milk ; Witness , ye Flocks , whose woolly Vestments far Exceed soft India's Cotton , or her Silk ; Witness , with Autumn charg'd , the nodding Car , That homeward came beneath sweet Evening's Star , Or of september-Moons the Radiance mild . O hide thy Head , abominable War ! Of Crimes and ruffian Idleness the Child ! From Heaven this Life ysprung , from Hell thy Glories vild ! XXVII . Nor , from his deep Retirement , banish'd was Th' amusing Cares of Rural Industry . Still , as with grateful Change the Seasons pass , New Scenes arise , new Landskips strike the Eye , And all th' enliven'd Country beautify : Gay Plains extend where Marshes slept before ; O'er recent Meads th' exulting Streamlets fly ; Dark frowning Heaths grow bright with Ceres' store , And Woods imbrown the Steep , or wave along the Shore . XXVIII . As nearer to his Farm you made Approach , He polish'd Nature with a finer Hand : Yet on her Beauties durst not Art incroach ; 'Tis Art's alone these Beauties to expand . In graceful Dance immingled , o'er the Land , Pan , Pales , Flora , and Pomona play'd : Even here , sometimes , the rude wild Common fand An happy Place ; where free , and unafraid , Amid the flowering Brakes each coyer Creature stray'd . XXIX . But in prime Vigour what can last for ay ? That soul-enfeebling Wizard INDOLENCE , I whilom sung , wrought in his Works decay : Spred far and wide was his curs'd Influence ; Of Public Virtue much he dull'd the Sense , Even much of Private ; eat our Spirit out , And fed our rank luxurious Vices : whence The Land was overlaid with many a Lout ; Not , as old Fame reports , wise , generous , bold , and stout . XXX . A Rage of Pleasure madden'd every Breast , Down to the lowest Lees the Ferment ran : To his licentious Wish Each must be blest , With Joy be fever'd ; snatch it as he can . Thus Vice the Standard rear'd ; her Arrier-Ban Corruption call'd , and loud she gave the Word . " Mind , mind yourselves ! Why should the vulgar Man , " The Lacquey be more virtuous than his Lord ? " Enjoy this Span of Life ! 'tis all the Gods afford . " XXXI . The Tidings reach'd to Where in quiet Hall , The good old Knight enjoy'd well-earn'd Repose . " Come , come , Sir Knight ! thy Children on thee call ; " Come , save us yet , ere Ruin round us close ! " The Demon INDOLENCE thy Toils o'erthrows . " On This the noble Colour stain'd his Cheeks , Indignant , glowing through the whitening Snows Of venerable Eld ; his Eye full speaks His ardent Soul , and from his Couch at once he breaks . XXXII . I will , ( he cry'd ) so help me , God ! destroy That Villain Archimage ! — His Page then strait He to him call'd , a fiery-footed Boy , Benempt Dispatch . " My Steed be at the Gate ; " My Bard attend ; quick , bring the Net of Fate . " This Net was twisted by the Sisters Three ; Which when once cast o'er harden'd Wretch , too late Repentance comes : Replevy cannot be From the strong iron Grasp of vengeful Destiny . XXXIII . He came , the Bard , a little Druid-Wight , Of wither'd Aspect ; but his Eye was keen , With Sweetness mix'd . In Russet brown bedight , As is his Sister of the Copses green , He crept along , unpromising of Mien . Gross he who judges so . His Soul was fair , Bright as the Children of yon Azure sheen . True Comeliness , which nothing can impair , Dwells in the Mind : all else is Vanity and Glare . XXXIV . Come ! ( quoth the Knight ) a Voice has reach'd mine Ear , The Demon INDOLENCE threats Overthrow To All that to Mankind is good and dear : Come , PHILOMELUS ! let us instant go , O'erturn his Bowers , and lay his Castle low ! Those Men , those wretched Men ! who will be Slaves , Must drink a bitter wrathful Cup of Woe : But some there be , thy Song , as from their Graves , Shall raise . Thrice happy he ! who without Rigour saves . XXXV. Issuing forth , the Knight bestrode his Steed , Of ardent Bay , and on whose Front a Star Shone blazing bright : Sprung from the generous Breed That whirl of active Day the rapid Car , He pranc'd along , disdaining Gate or Bar . Meantime , the Bard on milk-white Palfrey rode ; An honest sober Beast , that did not mar His Meditations , but full softly trode : And much they moraliz'd as thus yfere they yode . XXXVI. They talk'd of Virtue , and of Human Bliss . What else so fit for Man to settle well ? And still their long Researches met in This , This Truth of Truths , which nothing can refel : " From Virtue's Fount the purest Joys out-well , " Sweet Rills of Thought that chear the conscious Soul ; " While Vice pours forth the troubled Streams of Hell , " The which , howe'er disguis'd , at last with Dole " Will through the tortur'd Breast their fiery Torrent roll . " XXXVII . At length it dawn'd , that fatal Valley gay , O'er which high wood-crown'd Hills their Summits rear . On the cool Height awhile our Palmers stay , And spite even of themselves their Senses chear ; Then to the Wizard's Wonne their Steps they steer . Like a green Isle , it broad beneath them spred , With Gardens round , and wandering Currents clear , And tufted Groves to shade the Meadow-Bed , Sweet Airs and Song ; and without Hurry all seem'd glad . XXXVIII . " As God shall judge me , Knight , we must forgive ( The half-enraptur'd PHILOMELUS cry'd ) " The frail good Man deluded here to live , " And in these Groves his musing Fancy hide . " Ah , Nought is pure ! It cannot be deny'd , " That Virtue still some Tincture has of Vice , " And Vice of Virtue . What should then betide , " But that our Charity be not too nice ? " Come , let us Those we can to real Bliss entice . XXXIX . " Ay , sicker , ( quoth the Knight ) all Flesh is frail , " To pleasant Sin and joyous Dalliance bent ; " But let not brutish Vice of This avail , " And think to scape deserved Punishment . " Justice were cruel weakly to relent ; " From Mercy's Self she got her sacred Glaive : " Grace be to Those who can , and will , repent ; " But Penance long , and dreary , to the Slave , " Who must in Floods of Fire his gross foul Spirit lave . XL. Thus , holding high Discourse , they came to Where The cursed Carle was at his wonted Trade ; Still tempting heedless Men into his Snare , In witching Wise , as I before have said . But when he saw , in goodly Geer array'd , The grave majestic Knight approaching nigh , And by his Side the Bard so sage and staid , His Countenance fell ; yet ost his anxious Eye Mark'd them , like wily Fox who roosted Cock doth spy . XLI. Nathless , with feign'd Respect , he bade give back The Rabble-Rout , and welcom'd them full kind ; Struck with the noble Twain , they were not slack His Orders to obey , and fall behind . Then he resum'd his Song ; and , unconfin'd , Pour'd all his Music , ran through all his Strings : With magic Dust their Eyne he tries to blind , And Virtue's tender Airs o'er Weakness flings . What Pity base his Song who so divinely sings . XLII. Elate in Thought , he counted them his own , They listen'd so intent with fix'd Delight : But they instead , as if transmew'd to Stone , Marvel'd he could , with such sweet Art , unite The Lights and Shades of Manners , Wrong and Right . Mean time , the silly Croud the Charm devour , Wide-pressing to the Gate . Swift , on the Knight He darted fierce , to drag him to his Bower , Who backning shun'd his Touch , for well he knew its Power . XLIII . As in throng'd Amphitheatre , of old , The wary A Gladiator , who made use of a Net , which he threw over his Adversary . Retiarius trap'd his Foe ; Even so the Knight , returning on him bold , At once involv'd him in the Net of Woe , Whereof I Mention made not long ago . Inrag'd at first , he scorn'd so weak a Jail , And leap'd , and flew , and flounced to and fro ; But when he found that nothing could avail , He sat him felly down and gnaw'd his bitter Nail . XLIV. Alarm'd , th' inferior Demons of the Place Rais'd rueful Shrieks and hideous Yells around ; Black ruptur'd Clouds deform'd the Welkin's Face , And from beneath was heard a wailing Sound , As of Infernal Sprights in Cavern bound ; A solemn Sadness every Creature strook , And Lightnings flash'd , and Horror rock'd the Ground : Huge Crouds on Crouds out-pour'd , with blemish'd Look , As if on Time's last Verge this Frame of Things had shook . XLV. Soon as the short-liv'd Tempest was yspent , Steam'd from the Jaws of vext Avernus' Hole , And hush'd the Hubbub of the Rabblement , SIR INDUSTRY the first calm Moment stole . " There must , ( he cry'd ) amid so vast a Shoal , " Be Some who are not tainted at the Heart , " Not poison'd quite by this same Villain's Bowl : " Come then , my Bard , thy heavenly Fire impart ; " Touch Soul with Soul , till forth the latent Spirit start . XLVI. The Bard obey'd ; and taking from his Side , Where it in seemly Sort depending hung , His British Harp , its speaking Strings he try'd , The which with skilful Touch he deffly strung , Till tinkling in clear Symphony they rung . Then , as he felt the Muses come along , Light o'er the Chords his raptur'd Hand he flung , And play'd a Prelude to his rising Song : The whilst , like Midnight mute , ten Thousands round him throng . XLVII. Thus , ardent , burst his Strain . " Ye hapless Race , " Dire-labouring here to smother Reason's Ray , " That lights our Maker's Image in our Face , " And gives us wide o'er Earth unquestion'd Sway ; " What is TH' ADOR'd SUPREME PERFECTION , say ? " What , but eternal never-resting Soul , " Almighty Power , and all-directing Day ; " By whom each Atom stirs , the Planets roll ; " Who fills , surrounds , informs , and agitates the Whole ? XLVIII . " Come , to the beaming GOD your Hearts unfold ! " Draw from its Fountain Life ! 'Tis thence , alone , " We can excel . Up from unfeeling Mold , " To Seraphs burning round th'ALMIGHTY'S Throne , " Life rising still on Life , in higher Tone , " Perfection forms , and with Perfection Bliss . " In Universal Nature This clear shewn , " Not needeth Proof : To prove it were , I wis , " To prove the beauteous World excels the brute Abyss . XLIX. " Is not the Field , with lively Culture green , " A Sight more joyous than the dead Morass ? " Do not the Skies , with active Ether clean , " And fan'd by sprightly Zephirs , far surpass " The foul November-Fogs , and slumbrous Mass , " With which sad Nature veils her drooping Face ? " Does not the Mountain-Stream , as clear as Glass , " Gay-dancing on , the putrid Pool disgrace ? " The same in All holds true , but chief in Human Race . L. " It was not by vile Loitering in Ease , " That GREECE obtain'd the brighter Palm of Art , " That soft yet ardent ATHENS learn'd to please , " To keen the Wit , and to sublime the Heart , " In all supreme ! compleat in every Part ! " It was not thence majestic ROME arose , " And o'er the Nations shook her conquering Dart : " For Sluggard's Brow the Laurel never grows ; " Renown is not the Child of indolent Repose . LI . " Had unambitious Mortals minded Nought , " But in loose Joy their Time to wear away ; " Had they alone the Lap of Dalliance sought , " Pleas'd on her Pillow their dull Heads to lay : " Rude Nature's State had been our State To-day ; " No Cities e'er their towery Fronts had rais'd , " No Arts had made us opulent and gay ; " With Brother-Brutes the Human Race had graz'd ; " None e'er had soar'd to Fame , None honour'd been , None prais'd . LII. " Great HOMER'S Song had never fir'd the Breast , " To Thirst of Glory , and heroic Deeds ; " Sweet MARO'S Muse , sunk in inglorious Rest , " Had silent slept amid the Mincian Reeds : " The Wits of modern Time had told their Beads , " And monkish Legends been their only Strains ; " Our MILTON's Eden had lain wrapt in Weeds , " Our SHAKESPEAR stroll'd and laugh'd with Warwick Swains , " Ne had my Master SPENSER charm'd his Mulla's Plains . LIII. " Dumb too had been the sage Historic Muse , " And perish'd all the Sons of antient Fame ; " Those starry Lights of Virtue , that diffuse " Through the dark Depth of Time their vivid Flame , " Had All been lost with Such as have no Name . " Who then had scorn'd his Ease for others' Good ? " Who then had toil'd rapacious Men to tame ? " Who in the Public Breach devoted stood , " And for his Country's Cause been prodigal of Blood ? LIV. " But should to Fame your Hearts impervious be , " If right I read , you Pleasure All require : " Then hear how best may be obtain'd this Fee , " How best enjoy'd this Nature's wide Desire . " Toil , and be glad ! Let Industry inspire " Into your quicken'd Limbs her buoyant Breath ! " Who does not act is dead ; absorpt intire " In miry Sloth , no Pride no Joy he hath : " O Leaden-hearted Men , to be in Love with Death ! LV. " Better the toiling Swain , oh happier far ! " Perhaps the happiest of the Sons of Men ! " Who vigorous plies the Plough , the Team , or Car ; " Who houghs the Field , or ditches in the Glen , " Delves in his Garden , or secures his Pen : " The Tooth of Avarice poisons not his Peace ; " He tosses not in Sloth's abhorred Den ; " From Vanity he has a full Release ; " And , rich in Nature's Wealth , he thinks not of Increase . LVI. " Good Lord ! how keen are his Sensations all ! " His Bread is sweeter than the Glutton's Cates ; " The Wines of France upon the Palate pall , " Compar'd with What his simple Soul elates , " The native Cup whose Flavour Thirst creates ; " At one deep Draught of Sleep he takes the Night ; " And for that Heart-felt Joy which Nothing mates , " Of the pure nuptial Bed the chaste Delight , " The Losel is to him a miserable Wight . LVII. " But what avail the largest Gifts of HEAVEN , " When sickening Health and Spirits go amiss ? " How tasteless then Whatever can be given ? " Health is the vital Principle of Bliss , " And Exercise of Health . In Proof of This , " Behold the Wretch , who slugs his Life away , " Soon swallow'd in Disease's sad Abyss ; " While he whom Toil has brac'd , or manly Play , " Has light as Air each Limb , each Thought as clear as Day . LVIII. " O who can speak the vigorous Joys of Health ! " Unclogg'd the Body , unobscur'd