For all the favage din of the fwift pack,
And clamours of the field?-Detested sport,
That owes its pleasures to another's pain;
That feeds upon the fobs and dying fhrieks
Of harmless náture, dumb, but yet endu'd
With eloquence, that agonies infpire,
Of filent tears and heart-diftending fighs?
Vain tears, alas, and fighs, that never find
A correfponding tone in jovial fouls!
Well-one at leaft is fafe. One fhelter'd hare
Has never heard the fanguinary yell

Of cruel man, exulting in her woes.

Innocent partner of my peaceful home,

Whom ten long years' experience of my care

Has made at laft familiar; fhe has loft

Much of her vigilant instinctive dread,

Not needful here, beneath a roof like mine.

Yes-thou may'ft eat thy bread, and lick the hand That feeds thee; thou may'ft frolic on the floor

At evening, and at night retire fecure

To thy ftraw couch, and flumber unalarm'd;

For I have gain'd thy confidence, have pledg'd

All that is human in me to protect

Thine unfufpecting gratitude and love.
If I furvive thee I will dig thy grave;
And, when I place thee in it, fighing, fay,
I knew at leaft one hare that had a friend.

How various his employments, whom the world

Calls idle; and who juftly, in return,

Efteems that bufy world an idler too!

Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen,
Delightful industry enjoy'd at home,

And nature in her cultivated trim
Drefs'd to his tafte, inviting him abroad-
Can he want occupation who has these?
Will he be idle who has much t' enjoy?
Me, therefore, ftudious of laborious eafe,
Not flothful; happy to deceive the time,
Not wafte it; and aware that human life

Is but a loan to be repaid with use,

When He fhall call his debtors to account

From whom are all our bleffings; bus'nefs finds
Ev'n here: while fedulous I feek t' improve,
At least neglect not, or leave unemploy'd,
The mind he gave me; driving it, though flack
Too oft, and much impeded in its work
By causes not to be divulg'd in vain,

To its just point-the fervice of mankind.
He that attends to his interior self,

That has a heart, and keeps it; has a mind
That hungers, and supplies it; and who feeks
A focial, not a diffipated life,

Has bufinefs; feels himself engag'd t' achieve
No unimportant, though a filent, task.

A life all turbulence and noise may feem,
To him that leads it, wife, and to be prais'd;

But wisdom is a pearl with most fuccefs
Sought in ftill water, and beneath clear skies.

He that is ever occupied in storms,

Or dives not for it, or brings up instead,
Vainly industrious, a difgraceful prize.

The morning finds the felf-fequefter'd man Fresh for his task, intend what task he may. Whether inclement feafons recommend

His warm but fimple home, where he enjoys, With her who shares his pleasures and his heart, Sweet converfe, fipping calm the fragrant lymph Which neatly the prepares; then to his book, Well chofen, and not fullenly perus'd

In felfifh filence, but imparted oft

As aught occurs that he may smile to hear,
Or turn to nourishment, digefted well.

Or, if the garden with its many cares,

All well repaid, demand him, he attends

The welcome call, confcious how much the hand

Of lubbard labour needs his watchful eye,

Oft loit'ring lazily, if not o'erfeen,

Or mifapplying his unfkilful ftrength.

Nor does he govern only or direct,

But much performs himself. No works indeed
That afk robust tough finews, bred to toil,
Servile employ; but fuch as may amufe,

Not tire, demanding rather fkill than force.
Proud of his well-fpread walls, he views his trees
That meet (no barren interval between)

With pleasure more than ev'n their fruits afford,

Which, fave himself who trains them, none can feel: These, therefore, are his own peculiar charge;

No meaner hand may difcipline the shoots,

None but his steel approach them. What is weak, Diftemper'd, or has loft prolific pow'rs,

Impair'd by age, his unrelenting hand

Dooms to the knife: nor does he spare the soft
And fucculent, that feeds its giant growth,

But barren, at th' expence of neighb'ring twigs
Lefs oftentatious, and yet studded thick
With hopeful gems. The reft, no portion left
That may difgrace his art, or disappoint