Well may the church wage unsuccessful war,
With fuch artillery arm'd. Vice parries wide
The undreaded volley with a fword of straw,
And ftands an impudent and fearless mark.

Have we not track'd the felon home, and found
His birthplace and his dam? The country mourns,
Mourns because every plague that can infest
Society, and that faps and worms the base
Of the edifice that Policy has raised,
Swarms in all quarters; meets the eye, the ear,
And fuffocates the breath at every turn.
Profufion breeds them; and the cause itself
Of that calamitous mischief has been found:
Found too where most offenfive, in the skirts
Of the robed pedagogue! Elfe let the arraign'd
Stand up unconscious, and refute the charge.
So when the Jewish Leader ftretch'd his arm,
And waved his rod divine, a race obscene,

Spawn'd in the muddy beds of Nile, came forth,
Polluting Egypt: gardens, fields, and plains
Were cover'd with the peft; the streets were fill'd;
The croaking nuisance lurk'd in every nook ;
Nor palaces nor even chambers 'scaped;
And the land ftank-fo numerous was the fry.

THE TASK.

BOOK III. THE GARDEN.

ARGUMENT.

Self-recollection and reproof. Addrefs to domeftic happiness. Some account of myself. The vanity of many of their pursuits who are reputed wife. Juftification of my cenfures. Divine illumination neceffary to the most expert philofopher. The question, What is truth? answered by other questions. Domestic happiness addressed again. Few lovers of the country. My tame hare. Occupations of a retired gentleman in his garden. Pruning. Framing. Greenhoufe. Sowing of flower feeds. The country preferable to the town even in the winter. Reafons why it is deferted at that feafon. Ruinous effects of gaming and of expensive improvement. Book concludes with an apostrophe to the metropolis.

THE TASK.

BOOK III. THE GARDEN.

S one who, long in thickets and in brakes
Entangled, winds now this way and now
that

His devious course uncertain, seeking home;
Or, having long in miry ways been foil'd,
And fore discomfited, from flough to flough
Plunging, and half despairing of escape;
If chance at length he find a greensward smooth
And faithful to the foot, his fpirits rife,

He cherups brisk his ear-erecting steed,
And winds his way with pleasure and with ease;
So I, defigning other themes, and call'd

To adorn the Sofa with eulogium due,
To tell its flumbers, and to paint its dreams,
Have rambled wide. In country, city, feat
Of academic fame (howe'er deserved),
Long held, and scarcely difengaged at last.
But now with pleasant pace a cleanlier road
I mean to tread. I feel myfelf at large,
Courageous, and refresh'd for future toil,
If toil await me, or if dangers new.

Since pulpits fail, and founding-boards reflect