These were thy charms, but all those charms are fled.
Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn,
Thy sports are fled, and all thy swells withdrawn,
Within thy doors upholsterers are seen,
And water-carts alone the park keep green;
Almighty dulness grasps thy whole domain,
Of all thy people none with thee remain.
No more thy babbling talk reflects the day,
But in the country winds its shallow way;
Along thy park a solitary guest,