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Industry.

Taught him to chip the wood, and hew the stone,
Till by degrees the finished fabric rose;
Tore from his limbs the blood-polluted fur,
And wrapt them in the woolly vestment warm,
Or bright in glossy silk, and flowing lawn;
With wholesome viands filled his table, poured
* The generous glass around, inspired to wake
The life-refining soul of decent wit :
Nor stopped at barren bare necessity;
But, still advancing bolder, led him on
To pomp, to pleasure, elegance, and grace ;
And, breathing high ambition thro' his soul,
Set science, wisdom, glory, in his view,

And bade him be the Lord of all below.

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Then gathering men their natural powers combined, And formed a Public; to the general good Submitting, aiming, and conducting all. For this the Patriot-Council met, the full, The free, and fairly represented Whole; For this they planned the holy guardian laws, Distinguished orders, animated arts, And with joint force Oppression chaining, set Imperial Justice at the helm; yet still To them accountable: nor slavish dreamed

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That toiling millions must resign their weal,

And all the honey of their search, to such

As for themselves alone themselves have raised.
Hence every form of cultivated life

In order set, protected, and inspired,
Into perfection wrought. Uniting all,
Society grew numerous, high, polite,

And happy. Nurse of art! the city reared

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Commerce and Arts.

In beauteous pride her tower-encircled head;
And, stretching street on street, by thousands drew,
From twining woody haunts, or the tough yew
To bows strong-straining, her aspiring sons.

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Then Commerce brought into the public walk
The busy merchant; the big warehouse built;
Raised the strong crane; choked up the loaded street, 180
With foreign plenty; and thy stream, O THAMES,
Large, gentle, deep, majestic, king of floods!
Chose for his grand resort. On either hand,
Like a long wintry forest, groves of masts
Shot up their spires; the bellying sheet between
Possessed the breezy void; the sooty hulk,
Steered sluggish on; the splendid barge along
Rowed, regular, to harmony; around,

The boat, light-skimming, stretched its oary wings;
While deep the various voice of fervent toil

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From bank to bank increased; whence, ribbed with oak,

To bear the British Thunder, black, and bold,

The roaring vessel rushed into the main.

Then too the pillared dome, magnific, heaved

Its ample roof; and luxury within

Poured out her glittering stores: the canvas smooth,
With glowing life protuberant, to the view

Embodied rose; the statue seemed to breathe,

And soften into flesh, beneath the touch

Of forming art, imagination-flushed.

All is the gift of Industry; whate'er

Exalts, embellishes, and renders life
Delightful. Pensive Winter cheered by him.
Sits at the social fire, and happy hears

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Th' excluded tempest idly rave along :
His hardened fingers deck the gaudy Spring;

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Reaping.

Without him Summer were an arid waste;
Nor to th' Autumnal months could thus transmit
Those full, mature, immeasurable stores,
That waving round, recall my wandering song,
Soon as the morning trembles o'er the sky,
And, unperceived, unfolds the spreading day ;
Before the ripened field the reapers stand,
In fair array; each by the lass he loves,
To bear the rougher part, and mitigate
By nameless gentle offices her toil.

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At once they stoop and swell the lusty sheaves;

While thro' their cheerful band the rural talk,

The rural scandal, and the rural jest,

Fly harmless, to deceive the tedious time,

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And steal unfelt the sultry hours away.

Behind, the master walks, builds up the shocks;
And, conscious, glancing oft on every side

His sated eye, feels his heart heave with joy.

The gleaners spread around, and here and there,

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Spike after spike, their scanty harvest pick.
Be not too narrow, husbandmen! but fling
From the full sheaf, with charitable stealth,
The liberal handful. Think, oh grateful think !
How good the God of Harvest is to you,
Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields;
While these unhappy partners of your kind
Wide-hover round you, like the fowls of heaven,
And ask their humble dole. The various turns
Of fortune ponder; that your sons may want
What now, with hard reluctance, faint, ye give.
The lovely young LAVINIA once had friends;
And Fortune smiled, deceitful, on her birth.
For, in her helpless years deprived of all,

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Lavinia.

Of every stay, save Innocence and Heaven,
She, with her widowed mother, feeble, old,
And poor,
lived in a cottage, far retired
Among the windings of a woody vale;
By solitude and deep surrounding shades,
But more by bashful modesty, concealed.
Together thus they shunned the cruel scorn
Which virtue, sunk to poverty, would meet
From giddy passion and low-minded pride :
Almost on Nature's common bounty fed,

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Like the gay birds that sung them to repose,
Content, and careless of to-morrow's fare.

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Her form was fresher than the morning rose,

When the dew wets its leaves; unstained, and pure,
As is the lily, or the mountain snow.

The modest virtues mingled in her eyes,

Still on the ground dejected, darting all

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Their humid beams into the blooming flowers :
Or when the mournful tale her mother told,
Of what her faithless fortune promised once,
Thrilled in her thought, they, like the dewy star
Of evening, shone in tears. A native grace,
Sat fair-proportioned on her polished limbs,
Veiled in a simple robe, their best attire,
Beyond the pomp of dress; for loveliness
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament,

But is, when unadorned, adorned the most.
Thoughtless of beauty, she was beauty's self,

Recluse amid the close-embowering woods.

As in the hollow breast of Appenine,
Beneath the shelter of encircling hills,
A myrtle rises, far from human eye,

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Lavinia and Palemon.

And breathes its balmy fragrance o'er the wild ;
So flourished blooming, and unseen by all,
The sweet LAVINIA; till, at length, compelled
By strong Necessity's supreme command,

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With smiling patience in her looks, she went

To glean PALEMON's fields. The pride of swains
PALEMON was, the generous, and the rich;

Who led the rural life in all its joy
And elegance, such as Arcadian song
Transmits from ancient uncorrupted times;
When tyrant custom had not shackled Man,
But free to follow Nature was the mode.
He then, his fancy with autumnal scenes
Amusing, chanced beside his reaper train
To walk, when poor LAVINIA drew his eye;
Unconscious of her power, and turning quick
With unaffected blushes from his gaze :
He saw her charming, but he saw not half
The charms her downcast modesty concealed.
That very moment love and chaste desire
Sprung in his bosom, to himself unknown ;

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For still the world prevailed, and its dread laugh,
Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn,

Should his heart own a gleaner in the field :
And thus in secret to his soul he sighed :-
"What pity! that so delicate a form,
"By beauty kindled, where enlivening sense

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And more than vulgar goodness seem to dwell, "Should be devoted to the rude embrace

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"Of some indecent clown! She looks, methinks, "Of old ACASTO's line; and to my mind

"Recalls that patron of my happy life,

« From whom my liberal fortune took its rise;

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