So lately found, although the constant fun
Cheer all their feasons with a grateful smile,
Can boaft but little virtue; and inert
Through plenty, lofe in morals, what they gain
In manners, victims of luxurious ease.
These therefore I can pity, placed remote
From all that science traces, art invents,
Or inspiration teaches; and inclofed
In boundlefs oceans never to be paff'd
By navigators uninformed as they
Or plough'd perhaps by British bark again.
But far beyond the reft, and with most cause
Thee, gentle favage! whom no love of thee Or thine, but curiofity perhaps,
Or elfe vain glory, prompted us to draw
Forth from thy native bow'rs, to show thee here
With what superior skill we can abuse
The gifts of providence, and squander life.
The dream is past. And thou haft found again
Thy cocoas and bananas, palms and yams,
And homeftall thatch'd with leaves. But haft thou
Their former charms? and having feen our state,
Our palaces, our ladies, and our pomp
Of equipage, our gardens, and our sports,
And heard our mufic; are thy fimple friends,
Thy fimple fare, and all thy plain delights
As dear to thee as once? And have thy joys
Loft nothing by comparison with ours?
Rude as thou art (for we return'd thee rude
And ignorant, except of outward show)
I cannot think thee yet fo dull of heart
And spiritless, as never to regret
Sweets tasted here, and left as foon as known.
Methinks I fee thee ftraying on the beach,
And asking of the furge that bathes thy foot
If ever it has wash'd our distant shore.
I fee thee weep, and thine are honeft tears,
A patriot's for his country. Thou art fad
At thought of her forlorn and abject state,
From which no power of thine can raise her up.
Thus fancy paints thee, and though apt to err,
Perhaps errs little, when fhe paints thee thus.
She tells me too that duly ev'ry morn
Thou climb'ft the mountain top, with eager eye
Exploring far and wide the wat'ry waste
For fight of ship from England. Ev'ry speck
Seen in the dim horizon, turns thee pale
With conflict of contending hopes and fears.
But comes at last the dull and dusky eve,
And fends thee to thy cabbin, well-prepar'd
To dream all night of what the day denied.
Alas! expect it not. We found no bait
To tempt us in thy country. Doing good,
Difinterested good, is not our trade.
We travel far 'tis true, but not for nought;
And must be brib'd to compass earth again
By other hopes and richer fruits than yours.
But though true worth and virtue, in the mild
And genial foil of cultivated life
Thrive most, and may perhaps thrive only there, -
Yet not in cities oft. In proud and gay
And gain devoted cities; thither flow,
As to a common and moft noisome fewer,
The dregs and fæculence of ev'ry land.
In cities foul example on most minds
Begets its likenefs. Rank abundance breeds
In grofs and pamper'd cities floth and luft,
And wantonness and gluttonous excess.
In cities, vice is hidden with most ease,
Or feen with leaft reproach; and virtue taught
By frequent lapfe, can hope no triumph there
Beyond th' atchievement of successful flight.
I do confefs them nurf'ries of the arts,
In which they flourish moft: where in the beams Of warm encouragement, and in the eye
Of public note they reach their perfect fize. Such London is, by tafte and wealth proclaim'd The fairest capital of all the world,
By riot and incontinence the worst.
There, touch'd by Reynolds, a dull blank becomes
A lucid mirror, in which nature sees
All her reflected features. Bacon there
Gives more than female beauty to a stone,
And Chatham's eloquence to marble lips.
Nor does the chiffel occupy alone
The pow'rs of sculpture, but the style as much;
Each province of her art her equal care.
With nice incifion of her guided steel
She ploughs a brazen field, and clothes a foil
So fterile, with what charms fo'er she will,
The richest scen'ry and the loveliest forms.
Where finds philosophy her eagle eye
With which the gazes at yon burning disk
Undazzled, and detects and counts his spots?
In London; where her implements exa&
With which she calculates, computes and scans
All distance, motion, magnitude, and now
Measures an atom, and now girds a world?
In London; where has commerce fuch a mart, So rich, fo throng'd, so drain'd, and fo fupplied
As London, opulent, enlarged, and still
Increasing London? Babylon of old-
Not more the glory of the earth, than fhe
A more accomplish'd world's chief glory now.
She has her praise. Now mark a spot or two
That fo much beauty would do well to purge;
And show this queen of cities, that fo fair
May yet be foul, fo witty, yet not wife.
It is not feemly, nor of good report
That she is flack in difcipline: more prompt
T'avenge than to prevent the breach of law;
That she is rigid in denouncing death.
On petty robbers, and indulges life
And liberty, and oft-times honor too
To peculators of the public gold;
'That thieves at home must hang; but he that puts
Into his overgorged and bloated purse
The wealth of Indian provinces, escapes.
Nor is it well, nor can it come to good,
That through profane and infidel contempt
Of holy writ, she has prefum'd t' annul
And abrogate, as roundly as she may,
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