Have we not seen, round Britain’s peopled shore,
Her useful sons exchang’d for useless ore?
Seen all her triumphs but destruction haste,
Like flaring tapers brightening as they waste, 400
Seen opulence, her grandeur to maintain,
Lead stern depopulation in her train,
And over fields where scatter’d hamlets rose,
In barren, solitary pomp repose?
Have we not seen, at pleasure’s lordly call, 405
The smiling, long frequented village fall?