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'With storms already, Mason, rings my shed; And sullen fogs o'er Thames's banks are spread, O'er the proud castle, and the forest shade, "By godlike poets venerable made."

For so the bard in whom we all admire, And own, transfused, the mighty Homer's fire. * Careless of critic tongues, I shape the soil With changeful fancy, and uncertain toil; Careless I hear the rainy winds resound, Or wait their influence on my flocks around. And if the trite complaint, that upstarts proud Rise o'er our heads, and every parish crowd, Assail me,' little it disturbs that I,

Fall'n from a sire's and grandsire's dignity,

Egregios lusisse senes. mihi nunc Ligus ora Intepet, hybernátque meum mare, quà latus ingens Dant scopulì et multâ littus se valle receptat. "Lunaï portum est operæ cognoscere, cives." 3 Cor jubet hoc Ennî, postquam destertuit esse Mæonides Quintus pavone ex Pythagoreo.

+ Hìc ego securus vulgi ; et quid præparet Auster 'Infelix pecori ;7 securus et angulus ille

Windsor Forest, ver. 270.

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Equal those older ancestors alone,

Whose guiltless eminence the shire will own. 2 Must 1, for this, grow gray before my hour,

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Or hail with rapture compound interest's power; Hoard at the expense of comfort, meanly dine,

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And drink the cheapest, and the worst of wine?

But turns are different: for, of twins,' the one Will, save on feast days, all indulgence shun; Then, for himself, he cooks his treat of sauce, And follows custom with the lightest loss: The other, gallant spirit, heaps his board

With meats the richest only can afford.

Vicini nostro quia pinguior ;`et 'si adeò omnes
Ditescant orti pejoribus: usque

2 recusem

* Curvus ob id minui senio, aut 4 cœnare sinè uncto, Et 5 signum in vapidâ naso tetigisse lagenâ.

• Discrepit his alius. geminos, horroscope, varo Producis genio. 7 solis natalibus est qui

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Tingat olus siccum muriâ vafer in calice emptâ, Ipse sacrum irrorans patinæ piper. hic bona dente Grandia magnanimus peragit puer. utar ego, utar:

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But, if I would not, angry that they shine,

Toil lest their wealth be reckon'd more than mine,

So neither would I rival their expense.

Scarce 'twere in me a bearable pretence

' With turtles fresh my servants' hall to cheer, * Or use my taste to every dish that's dear.

Our bounds are clearly traced: our incomes shew How far the wants of Moderation go.

'Empty your barns; next year they will be stored. Perhaps, 'tis Duty warns, our aid implored.

* Some friend a gainful voyage hopes, till mark! Blown on the rocks of Scilly, splits his bark: His all is lost, and to the distant eye

The shiver'd wreck, emerging, points on high,

"Nec rhombos ideò libertis ponere lautus,

2 Nec tenuem solers turdarum nôsse salivam. Messe tenus propriâ vive: et 3 granaria (fas est) Emole. quid metuas? occa. et seges altera in herbå

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