1716. The great lord Somers died. He was lord chancellor, and at
different periods held other offices of high trust, which he ennobled by
acts of distinguished virtue and patriotism: he vindicated public
liberty with courage, and maintained it with success to the end of his
life.
_The Country._
A town life is coveted by the artificial, and praised to ecstacy by
mindless minds. They who can only derive entertainment from
Shows and sights, and hateful forms,
and they who are without intellectual resources, throw themselves into
the floods of the “mighty heart,” in search of refreshing pleasures. Not
so he, who has tasted the “knowledge of good and evil,” and from depth
of reflection welled up wisdom: he loves only what is good, and attaches
himself only to what is great in his species; this is from sympathy, not
contact. Silence and time are not of man’s make, and hence the wise
court solitude from the wrongs and follies of surrounding beings, and
enjoy a portion of their existence in contemplating the pure forms of
nature. The perverted genius which preferred
“The sweet shady side
Of a grove in Pall-Mall”
to rural scenery, by a little further perversion, would have preferred
the groves of Moloch to the plains of Mamre.
If one would live by nature’s laws,
Regardless of the world’s applause;
And be desirous of a spot
Whereon to build a humble cot,
What situation can compare
With that where purest country air
Dispels the vapours and the spleen,
And makes one wear a healthful mien?
Than in the country tell me where
Men freer are from pining care?
Where can they sounder sleep enjoy,
Or time more harmlessly employ?
Do marble pavements more delight,
Than the green turf that cheers the sight?
Or does the water of the town,
From the New-river head brought down
Taste sweeter than the crystal rills,
That trickle down the verdant hills?
So much are rustic scenes admir’d,
And rural prospects now desir’d,
That in the town one often sees
The houses shaded by tall trees,
Which give them quite a country look,
And fill with envy my lord-duke.
And if a mansion can command
A distant prospect o’er the land
Of Hampstead, or the Surrey hills,
Its site with admiration fills.
Each _connoisseur_, with wond’ring eyes,
Beholds it, and enraptur’d cries,
“What charming prospect! air how free
“The _rus in urbe_ here we see.”
For nature still will have her way,
Let men do whatsoe’er they may.
And still that pure and genuine taste,
In every mind by Heav’n plac’d,
Will show itself some how in part,
Howe’er corrupted by vile art.
Who know not silver from vile dross,
Will not sustain a heavier loss
Than they who truth and falsehood join,
And know not where to strike the line.
Whoe’er with success is elated,
Will be more wretched when ill-fated;
And things which mortals value most
Cause greatest pain when they are lost.
Let not ambition then destroy
Your happiness and heart-felt joy;
Contentment more true pleasure brings
Than all the wealth and pomp of kings.
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