10
THE CHACE.
Book I.
Lies my mute Harp, and thy desponding Bard
Sits darkly musing o'er th' unfinish'd Lay.
Sits darkly musing o'er th' unfinish'd Lay.
Let no Corinthian Pillars prop the Dome,
A vain Expence, on charitable Deeds
Better dispos'd, to cloath the tatter'd Wretch, 145
Who shrinks beneath the Blast, to feed the Poor
Pinch'd with afflictive Want: For Use, not State,
Gracefully plain, let each Apartment rise.
O'er all let Cleanliness preside, no Scraps
Bestrew the Pavement, and no half-pick'd Bones, 150
To kindle fierce Debate, or to disgust
That nicer Sense, on which the Sportsman's Hope,
And all his future Triumphs must depend.
Soon as the growling Pack with eager Joy
Have lapp'd their smoking Viands, Morn or Eve, 155
From the full Cistern lead the ductile Streams,
To wash thy Court well-pav'd, nor spare thy Pains,
A vain Expence, on charitable Deeds
Better dispos'd, to cloath the tatter'd Wretch, 145
Who shrinks beneath the Blast, to feed the Poor
Pinch'd with afflictive Want: For Use, not State,
Gracefully plain, let each Apartment rise.
O'er all let Cleanliness preside, no Scraps
Bestrew the Pavement, and no half-pick'd Bones, 150
To kindle fierce Debate, or to disgust
That nicer Sense, on which the Sportsman's Hope,
And all his future Triumphs must depend.
Soon as the growling Pack with eager Joy
Have lapp'd their smoking Viands, Morn or Eve, 155
From the full Cistern lead the ductile Streams,
To wash thy Court well-pav'd, nor spare thy Pains,
For
