RURAL ELEGANCE;

An ODE to the late Duchefs of SOMERSET.

Written 1750.

By WILLIAM SHENSTONE, Efq;

I.

HILE orient fkies reftore the day,

WHILE

And dew-drops catch the lucid ray ;

Amid the fprightly fcenes of morn,

Will aught the Mufe inspire?

Oh! peace to yonder clamorous horn
That drowns the facred lyre!
VOL. V.
Α

II. Ye

II.

Ye rural Thanes that o'er the moffy down
Some panting, timorous hare purfue;
Does nature mean your joys alone to crown?
Say, does the fmoothe her lawns for you?
For you does Echo bid the rocks reply,
And urg'd by rude constraint resound the jovial cry?
III.

Sce from the neighbouring hill, forlorn
The wretched fwain your sport furvey;
He finds his faithful fences torn,

He finds his labour'd crops a prey;
He fees his flock—no more in circles feed ;
Haply beneath your ravage bleed,

And with no random curfes loads the deed.

IV.

Nor yet, ye fwains, conclude

That Nature fmiles for you alone;

Your bounded fouls, and your conceptions crude,

The proud, the selfish boast disown:

Yours be the produce of the foil;
O may it ftill reward your toil!
Nor ever the defencelefs train

Of clinging infants, afk fupport in vain!

V.

But tho' the various harvest gild your plains,

Does the mere landschape feast your eye?

Or the warm hope of distant gains

Far other caufe of glee fupply?

Is not the red-ftreak's future juice
The fource of your delight profound,
Where Ariconium pours her gems profuse
Purpling a whole horizon round?-
Athirst ye praise the limpid ftream, 'tis true :
But tho', the pebbled fhores among,
It mimick no unpleafing fong,

The limpid fountain murmurs not for you.

VI.

Unpleas'd ye fee the thickets bloom, Unpleas'd the Spring her flowery robe refume; Unmov'd the mountain's airy pile,

The dappled mead without a smile.

O let a rural confcious Mufe,

For well she knows, your froward sense accuse : Forth to the folemn oak you bring the square, And span the maffy trunk, before you cry, 'tis fair. VII.

Nor yet ye learn'd, not yet ye courtly train,

If haply from your haunts ye ftray
To wafte with us a fummer's day,
Exclude the tafte of every swain,
Nor our untutor'd fenfe difdain :
"Tis Nature only gives exclufive right
To relish her fupreme delight;
She, where the pleases kind or coy,

Who furnishes the fcene, and forms us to enjoy.

VIII.

Then higher bring the fair ingenuous mind,
By her aufpicious aid refin'd;

Lo! not an hedge-row hawthorn blows,
Or humble hare-bell paints the plain,
Or valley winds, or fountain flows,

Or purple heath is ting'd in vain :
For fuch the rivers dash their foaming tides,

The mountain fwells, the dale fubfides;

Ev'n thriftless furze detains their wandering fight,

And the rough barren rock grows pregnant with delight. IX.

With what fufpicious fearful care

The fordid wretch fecures his claim,

If haply fome luxurious heir

Should alienate the fields that wear his name!

What fcruples left fome future birth

Should litigate a span of earth!

Bonds, contracts, feoffments, names unmeet for prose, The towering Muse endures not to disclose;

Alas! her unrevers'd decree,

More comprehenfive and more free,

Her lavish charter, Tafte, appropriates all we fee.

X.

Let gondolas their painted flags unfold,

And be the folemn day enroll'd,

When,