Classic Poem

In the Country

To a Friend in London

While thee, my friend, the City's scenes detain, —
The cheerful scenes where Trade and Pleasure reign;
Where glittering shops their varied stores display,
And passing thousands crowd the public way;
Where Painting's forms and Music's sounds delight,
And Fashion's frequent novelties invite,
And Conversation's sober social hours
Engage the mind, and elevate its powers,
Far different scenes for us the country yields,
Deserted roads and unfrequented fields;
Yet deem not, lonely as they are, that these
Boast nought to charm the eye, the ear to please.
Though here the tyrant Winter holds command,
And bids rude tempests desolate the land;
Sometimes the Sun extends his cheering beam,
And all the landscape casts a golden gleam:
Clear is the sky, and calm and soft the air,
And through thin mist each object looks more fair.
Then, where the villa rears its sheltering grove,
Along the southern lawn 'tis sweet to rove:
There dark green pines, behind, their boughs extend,
And bright spruce firs like pyramids ascend,
And round their tops, in many a pendent row,
Their scaly cones of shining auburn show;
There the broad cedar's level branches spread,
And the tall cypress lifts its spiry head;
With alaternus iiex interweaves,
And laurels mix their glossy oval leaves;
And gilded holly crimson frnit displays,
And white viburnum o'er the border strays.
Where these from storms the spacious greenhouse
Ev'n now the eye beholds a flowery scene;
There crystal sashes ward tho' injurious cold, screen,
And rows of benches fair exotics hold;
Rich plants, that Afrie's sunny cape supplies,
Or o'er the isles of either India rise.
While strip'd geranium shows its tufts of red,
And verdant myrtles grateful fragrance shed;
A moment stay to mark the vivid bloom,
A moment stay to catch the high perfume,
And then to rural scenes — Yon path, that leads
Down the steep bourn and 'cross the level meads,
Soon mounts the' opponent hill, and soon conveys
To where the farm its pleasing group displays:
The rustic mansion's form, antiquely fair;
The yew-hedg'd garden, with its grass-plat square;
The barn's long ridge, and doors expanded wide;
The stable's straw-clad eves and clay-built side;
The cartshed's roof, of rough-hewn round wood made,
And loose on heads of old sere pollards laid;
The granary's floor that smooth-wrought posts sustain,
Where hungry vermin strive to climb in vain:
And many an ash that wild around them grows,
And many an elm that shelter o'er them throws,
Then round the moat we turn, with pales enclos'd,
And midst the orchard's trees in rows dispos'd,
Whose boughs thick tufts of misletoe adoru
With fruit of lucid white on joints of yellow borne.
Thence up the lane, romantic woods among,
Beneath old oaks with ivy overhung,
(O'er their rough trunks the hairy stalks intwine,
And on their arms the sable berries shine:)
Here oft the sight, on banks bestrewn with leaves,
The early primrose' opening bud perceives;
And oft steep dells or ragged cliffs unfold
The prickly furze with bloom of brightest gold;
Here oft the red-breast hops along the way,
And midst grey moss explores his insect prey;
Or the green woodspite flies with outcry shrill,
And delves the sere bough with his sounding bill;
Or the rous'd hare starts rustling from the brake,
And gaudy jays incessant clamour make;
Or echoing hills return from stubbles nigh
The sportsman's gun, and spaniel's yelping cry.
And now the covert ends in open ground,
That spreads wide views beneath us all around;
There turbid waters, edg'd with yellow reeds,
Roll through the russet herd-forsaken meads;
There from the meads the' enclosures sloping rise,
And, midst the' enclosures, dusky woodland lies;
While pointed spires and curling smokes, between,
Mark towns and vills and cottages unseen.
And now, — for now the breeze and noontide ray
Clear the last remnants of the mist away, —
Far, far o'er all extends the aching eye,
Where azure mountains mingle with the sky:
To these the curious optic tube applied
Reveals each object distance else would hide;
There seats or homesteads, plac'd in pleasant shades,
Show their white walls and windows, through the glades;
There rears the hamlet church its hoary tow'r,
(The clock's bright index points the passing hour)
There green-rob'd huntsmen o'er the sunny lawn
Lead home their beagles from the chase withdrawn,
And ploughs slow-moving turn the broad champaign,
While on steep summits feed the fleecy train.
But wintry months few days like these supply,
And their few moments far too swiftly fly:
Dank thaws, chill fogs, rough winds, and beating rain,
To sheltering rooms the' unwilling step detain;
Yet there, my Friend, shall liberal Science find
Amusement various for the' inquiring mind.
While History's hand her sanguine record brings,
With woes of nations fraught, and crimes of kings;
Plague thins the street, and Famine blasts the plain,
War wields his sword, Oppression binds his chain;
Curiosity pursues the' unfolding tale,
Which Reason blames, and Pity's tears bewail.
While Fancy's powers the' eventful novel frame,
And Virtue's care directs its constant aim;
As Fiction's pen domestic life portrays,
Its hopes and fears and joys and griefs displays;
By Grandison's or Clinton's story mov'd,
We read delighted, and we rise improv'd.
Then with bold Voyagers our thought explores
Vast tracts of ocean, and untrodden shores;
Now views rude climes, where ice-rocks drear aspire, wave,
Or red volcanos shoot their streams of fire:
Now seeks sweet isles, where lofty palm-groves
And cany banks translucent rivers lave;
Where Plenty's gifts luxuriant load the soil,
And Ease reposes, charm'd with Beauty's smile.
Such, hapless Cook! amid the southern main,
Rose thy Ta-heite's peaks and flowery plain; —
Why, daring Wanderer! quit that blissful land,
To seek new dangers on a barbarous strand?
Why doom'd, so long escap'd from storms and foes,
Upon that strand thy dying eyes to close;
Remote each place by habit render'd dear,
Nor British friends nor Otaheitean near?
Nor less than books the' Engraver's works invite,
Where past and distant come before the sight;
Where, all the Painter's lively tints convey'd,
The skilful Copyist gives in light and shade:
While faithful views the prospect's charms display,
From coast to coast, and town to town, we stray;
While faithful portraits human features trace,
We gaze delighted on the speaking face;
Survey the port that bards and heroes bore,
Or mark the smiles that high-born beauties wore.
Cease these to please? Philosophy attends
With arts where knowledge with diversion blends;
The Sun's vast system in a model shows;
Bids the clear lens new forms to sight expose;
Constructs machines, whose wondrous powers declare
The' effects of light, and properties of air;
With whirling globes excites electric fires,
And all their force and all their use inquires.
O Nature! how immense thy secret store,
Beyond what ev'n a Priestley can explore!
Such, Friend, the' employments may his time divide,
Whom rural shades from scenes of business hide;
While o'er his ear unnotic'd glide away
The noise and nonsense of the passing day!