And woven close, or needlework sublime. There might ye see the piony spread wide, Now came the cane from India smooth and bright With Nature's varnish; sever'd into stripes, That interlac'd each other, these supplied Of texture firm a lattice-work, that brac'd The new machine, and it became a chair. But restless was the chair; the back erect Distress'd the weary loins, that felt no ease; The slipp'ry seat betray'd the sliding part, That press'd it, and the feet hung dangling down, Anxious in vain to find the distant floor. These for the rich; the rest, whom Fate had plac'd With base materials, sat on well-tann'd hides, If cushion might be call'd, what harder seem'd No want of timber then was felt or fear'd In Albion's happy isle. The lumber stood Pond'rous and fix'd by it's own massy weight. But elbows still were wanting; these, some say, An alderman of Cripplegate contriv'd; And some ascribe th' invention to a priest, Burly, and big, and studious of his ease. But rude at first, and not with easy slope Receding wide, they press'd against the ribs, And bruis'd the side; and, elevated high, Taught the rais'd shoulders to invade the ears. Long time elaps'd or e'er our rugged sires Complain'd, though incommodiously pent in, And ill at ease behind. The ladies first 'Gan murmur, as became the softer sex. Ingenious Fancy, never better pleas'd, Than when employ'd t'accomodate the fair, Heard the sweet moan with pity, and devis'd The soft settee; one elbow at each end, And in the midst an elbow it receiv'd, United yet divided, twain at once. So sit two kings of Brentford on one throne; Close pack'd, and smiling in a chaise and one. But relaxation of the languid frame, By soft recumbency of outstretch'd limbs, The nurse sleeps sweetly, hir'd to watch the sick, Whom snoring she disturbs. As sweetly he, Who quits the coach-box at the midnight hour, To sleep within the carriage more secure, His legs depending at the open door. Sweet sleep enjoys the curate in his desk, The tedious rector drawling o'er his head; And sweet the clerk below. But neither sleep Of lazy nurse, who snores the sick man dead; Nor his, who quits the box at midnight hour, To slumber in the carriage more secure; Nor sleep enjoy'd by curate in his desk; Nor yet the dozings of the clerk, are sweet, Compar'd with the repose the SOFA yields. O may I live exempted (while I live For I have lov'd the rural walk through lanes Of thorny boughs; have lov'd the rural walk Nor SOFA then I needed. Youth repairs And not a year but pilfers as he goes Some youthful grace, that age would gladly keep; A tooth or auburn lock, and by degrees Their length and colour from the locks they spare; That mounts the stile with ease, or leaps the fence, |