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Well then, fuppofe them fix'd at laft,
White-washing, painting, fcrubbing paft;
Hugging themselves in ease and clover,
With all the fuss of moving over;
Lo, a new heap of whims are bred,
And wanton in my lady's head!

Well; to be fure, it must be own'd,
It is a charming spot of ground:
So fweet a diftance for a ride,
• And all about fo countrify'd !
• 'Twould come to but a trifling price
To make it quite a paradife!

I wish you'd fell those odious trees.
Objects continual paffing by,'
• Were fomething to amufe the eye;
But to be pent within the walls,
• One might as well be at St. Paul's.
Our house, beholders would adore, ́-
Was there a level lawn before,
Nothing it's views to incommode,
But quite laid open to the road;
• While ev'ry tray'ller in amaze,
Should on our little manfion gaze;
And pointing to the choice retreat,
Cry," That's Sir Thrifty's country-feat!"
No doubt her arguments prevail,

For Madam's TASTE can never fail.

Blefs'd age! when all men may procure The title of a connoiffeur;

When noble and ignoble herd

Are govern'd by a fingle word;

Tho', like the royal German dames,

It bears an hundred Christian names
As Genius, Fancy, Judgment, Goût,
Whim, Caprice, Je ne fçai quoi, Virtù :
Which appellations all describe

TASTE, and the modern tafteful tribe.
Now bricklay'rs, carpenters, and joiners,
With Chinese artifts and defigners,
Produce their schemes of alteration,
To work this wond'rous reformation.
The useful dome, which fecret stood,
Embofom'd in the yew-tree's wood,
The trav❜ller with amazement fees
A temple Gothick or Chinese,
With many a bell and tawdry rag on,
And crefted with a sprawling dragon;
A wooden arch is bent aftride

A ditch of water, four feet wide,

With angles, curves, and zigzag lines,
From Halfpenny's exact designs:

In front, a level lawn is feen,

Without a fhrub upon the green;

Where Tafte would want it's first great law,

But for the skulking, fly ha-ha;

By whofe miraculous affiftance

You gain a profpect two fields diftance.
And now from Hyde-Park-Corner come
The gods of Athens and of Rome.
Here fquabby Cupids take their places,
With Venus, and the clumfy Graces;
Apollo there, with aim fo clever,
Stretches his leaden bow for ever;
And there, without the pow'r to fly,
Stands fix'd a tip-toe Mercury.

The

The villa thus compleatly grac'd,
All own, that Thrifty has a tafte;
And Madam's female friends and cousins,
With common-council-men, by dozens,
Flock ev'ry Sunday to the feat,

To ftare about them, and to eat.

THE HOUSE OF SUPERSTITION.

A VISION.

BY MR. DENTON.

I.

WHEN Sleep's all-foothing hand, with fetters foft,

Ties down each fenfe, and lulls to balmy reft,

Th' internal pow'r, creative Fancy, oft

Broods o'er her treasures in the formful breast.
Thus, when no longer daily cares engage,
The bufy mind purfues the darling theme;
Hence angels whifper'd to the flumb'ring fage,
And gods of old infpir'd the hero's dream :
Hence, as I flept, these images arose

To Fancy's eye; and join'd, this fairy scene compofe

II.

As, when fair morning dries her pearly tears,
The mountain lifts o'er mifts it's lofty head;
Thus, new to fight, a Gothick dome appears
With the grey ruft of rolling years o'erfpread.
Here Superftition holds her dreary reign,
And her lip-labour'd orifons fhe plies

In tongue unknown, when morn bedews the plain,
Or ev❜ning skirts with gold the western skies;

To the dumb ftock fhe bends, or fculptur❜d wall,

And many a cross she makes, and many a bead lets fall.

III.

Near to the dome a magick pair refide,
Prompt to deceive, and practis'd to confound;
Here hoodwink'd Ignorance is feen to bide,
Stretching in darkfome cave along the ground.
No object e'er awakes his ftupid eyes,

Nor voice articulate arrefts his ears,

Save when beneath the moon pale spectres rise,
And haunt his foul with vifionary fears;
Or when hoarfe winds incavern'd murmur round,
And babbling echo wakes, and iterates the found.

IV.

Where boughs entwining form an artful shade,
And in faint glimm'rings juft admit the light,
There Error fits in borrow'd white array'd,

And in Truth's form deceives the tranfient fight.
A thousand glories wait her op'ning day,

Her beaming luftre when fair Truth imparts:
Thus Error would pour forth a spurious ray,

And cheat th' unpractis'd mind with mimick arts;
She cleaves with magick wand the liquid fkies,
Bids airy forms appear, and scenes fantaftick rife.

V.

A porter deaf, decrepid, old, and blind,
Sits at the gate, and lifts a lib'ral bowl
With wine of wond'rous pow'r to lull the mind,
And check each vig'rous effort of the foul:
Who'er un'wares fhall ply his thirsty lip,

And drink in gulps the lufcious liquor down,

Shall hapless from the cup delufion fip,
And objects fee in features not their own.

Each way-worn traveller that hither came,

He lav'd with copious draughts, and Prejudice his name.

VI. Within

VI.

Within a various race are seen to wonne,
Props of her age, and pillars of her ftate,
Which erft were nurtur'd by the wither'd crone,
And born to Tyranny, her grifly mate:
The first appear'd in pomp of purple pride,
With triple crown erect, and throned high;
Two golden keys hang dangling by his fide,
To lock or ope the portals of the sky ;
Crouching and proftrate there (ah! fight unmeet!)
The crowned head would bow, and lick his dusty feet.

VII.

With bended arm he on a book reclin'd,

Faft lock'd with iron clafps from vulgar eyes;
Heav'n's gracious gift to light the wand'ring mind,
To lift fall'n man, and guide him to the skies!
A man no more, a god he would be thought,
And 'mazed mortals blindly must obey;
With flight of hand he lying wonders wrought,"
And near him loathsome heaps of reliques lay:
Strange legends would he read, and figments dire
Of Limbus' prifon'd fhades, and purgatory fire.

VIII.

There meagre Penance fate, in fackcloth clad,
And to his breast close hugg'd the viper, Sin;
Yet oft, with brandish'd whip would gaul, as mad,
With voluntary ftripes his fhrivell'd skin.
Counting large heaps of o'er-abounding good
Of faints that dy'd within the church's pale,
With gentler afpect there Indulgence stood,

And to the needy culprit would retail;

There too, ftrange merchandize! he pardons fold,

And treafon would abfolve, and murder purge with gold!

IX. With