8.
A DESCRIPTION OF THE COUNTRY'S RECREATIONS
Quivering fears, heart-tearing cares,
Anxious sighs, untimely tears,
Fly, fly to courts;
Fly to fond worldlings' sports,
Where strain'd sardonic smiles are glosing still,
And grief is forc'd to laugh against her will;
Where mirth's but mummery;
And sorrows only real be!
Fly from our country pastimes! fly,
Sad troop of human misery;
Come, serene looks,
Clear as the crystal brooks,
Or the pure azur'd heaven, that smiles to see
The rich attendance of our poverty.
Peace, and a secure mind,
Which all men seek, we only find.
Abused mortals! did you know
Where joy, heart's-ease, and comforts grow,
You'd scorn proud towers,
And seek them in these bowers,
Where winds sometimes our woods perhaps may shake,
But blustering care could never tempest make;
Nor murmurs e'er come nigh us,
Saving of fountains that glide by us.
Here's no fantastic masque, nor dance,
But of our kids, that frisk and prance:
Nor wars are seen,
Unless upon the green
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