While I describe, with dignity, the place.

Snug in an English garden’s shadiest spot,

A structure stands, and welcomes many a breeze;

Lonely, and simple as a Ploughman’s cot,

Where Monarchs may unbend, who wish for ease.

There sit Philosophers; and sitting read;

And to some end apply the dullest pages;

And pity the Barbarians, north of Tweed,

Who scout these fabricks of the southern Sages.

Sure, for an Edifice in estimation,