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,