VOL. VIII.

"Much I love

To see the fair one bind the straggling pink,

Cheer the sweet rose, the lupin, and the stock,

And lend a staff to the still gadding pea.

Ye fair, it well becomes you. Better thus

Cheat time away, than at the crowded rout,

Rustling in silk, in a small room, close-pent,

And heated e'en to fusion; made to breathe

A rank contagious air, and fret at whist,

Or sit aside to sneer and whisper scandal."

Village Curate, p. 74.

LONDON:
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