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The ART of
B. III.
Or thro' the fairy-land of tale or song
Delighted wander, in fictitious fates
Engag'd, and all that strikes humanity;
145Till lost in fable, they the stealing hour
Of timely rest forget. Sometimes, at eve,
His neighbours lift the latch, and bless unhid
His festal roof; while, o'er the light repast,
And sprightly cups, they mix in social joy;
150And, thro' the maze of conversation, trace
Whate'er amuses or improves the mind.
Sometimes at eve (for I delight to taste
The native zest and flavour of the fruit,
Where sense grows wild, and takes of no manure)
155The decent, honest, chearful husbandman
Should drown his labours in my friendly bowl;
And at my table find himself at home.
What-
