THE TASK. BOOK III. THE GARDEN. As one who, long in thickets and in brakes If chance at length he find a greensward smooth He chirrups brisk his ear-erecting steed, And winds his way with pleasure and with ease; So I, designing other themes, and call'd T' adorn the Sofa with eulogium due, To tell its slumbers, and to paint its dreams, Have rambled wide. In country, city, seat Of academic fame (howe'er deserv'd), Long held, and scarcely disengag'd at last. Since pulpits fail, and sounding-boards reflect Most part an empty ineffectual sound, What chance that I, to fame so little known, And shelter'd Sofa, while the nitrous air Feeds a blue flame, and makes a cheerful hearth; There, undisturb'd by folly, and appriz'd To muse in silence, or at least confine Remarks that gall so many to the few Domestic happiness, thou only bliss Of Paradise that has surviv'd the fall! Thou art the nurse of virtue-in thine arms That reeling goddess with a zoneless waist And wand'ring eyes, still leaning on the arm Of novelty, her fickle frail support; For thou art meek and constant, hating change, And finding, in the calm of truth-tried love, Joys that her stormy raptures never yield. Forsaking thee, what shipwreck have we made Of honour, dignity, and fair renown! Till prostitution elbows us aside In all our crowded streets; and senates seem Than to release th' adultress from her bond. And verse of mine shall never brand the wretch, By all that priz'd it; not for prud'ry's sake, 'Twas hard, perhaps, on here and there a waif, Desirous to return, and not receiv'd; But was an wholesome rigour in the main, And taught th' unblemish'd to preserve with care That purity, whose loss was loss of all. Men, too, were nice in honour in those days, And judg'd offenders well. Then he that sharp'd, And pocketted a prize by fraud obtain'd, Was mark'd and shunn'd as odious. He that sold His country, or was slack when she requir'd Paid, with the blood that he had basely spar'd, |