Chapter 4

Here once a year Distinction low'rs its crest, The master, servant, and the merry guest, Are equal all; and round the happy ring The reaper's eyes exulting glances fling, And, warm'd with gratitude, he quits his place, With sun-burnt hands and ale-enliven'd face, Refills the jug his honour'd host to tend, To serve at once the master and the friend; Proud thus to meet his smiles, to share his tale, His nuts, his conversation, and his ale.

Such were the days, ... of days long past I sing, When Pride gave place to mirth without a sting; Ere tyrant customs strength sufficient bore To violate the feelings of the poor; To leave them distanc'd in the mad'ning race, Where'er Refinement shews its hated face: Nor causeless hated;... 'tis the peasant's curse, That hourly makes his wretched station worse; Destroys life's intercourse; the social plan That rank to rank cements, as man to man: Wealth flows around him, fashion lordly reigns; Yet poverty is his, and mental pains.

Methinks I hear the mourner thus impart The stifled murmurs of his wounded heart: 'Whence comes this change, ungracious, irksome, cold? 'Whence the new grandeur that mine eyes behold? 'The wid'ning distance which I daily see, 'Has Wealth done this?... then wealth's a foe to me; 'Foe to our rights; that leaves a pow'rful few 'The paths of emulation to pursue:... 'For emulation stoops to us no more: 'The hope of humble industry is o'er; 'The blameless hope, the cheering sweet presage 'Of future comforts for declining age. 'Can my sons share from this paternal hand 'The profits with the labours of the land? 'No; tho' indulgent Heaven its blessing deigns, 'Where's the small farm to suit my scanty means? 'Content, the Poet sings, with us resides; 'In lonely cots like mine the damsel hides; 'And will he then in raptur'd visions tell 'That sweet Content with Want can ever dwell? 'A barley loaf, 'tis true, my table crowns, 'That fast diminishing in lusty rounds, 'Stops Nature's cravings; yet her sighs will flow 'From knowing this,... that once it was not so. 'Our annual feast, when Earth her plenty yields, 'When crown'd with boughs the last load quits the fields, 'The aspect still of ancient joy puts on; 'The aspect only, with the substance gone: 'The self-same Horn is still at our command, 'But serves none now but the plebeian hand: 'For _home-brew'd Ale_, neglected and debas'd, 'Is quite discarded from the realms of taste. 'Where unaffected Freedom charm'd the soul, 'The separate table and the costly bowl, 'Cool as the blast that checks the budding Spring, 'A mockery of gladness round them fling. 'For oft the Farmer, ere his heart approves, 'Yields up the custom which he dearly loves: 'Refinement forces on him like a tide; 'Bold innovations down its current ride, 'That bear no peace beneath their shewy dress, 'Nor add one tittle to his happiness. 'His guests selected; rank's punctilios known; 'What trouble waits upon a casual frown! 'Restraint's foul manacles his pleasures maim; 'Selected guests selected phrases claim: 'Nor reigns that joy when hand in hand they join 'That good old Master felt in shaking mine. 'HEAVEN bless his memory! bless his honour'd name! '(The poor will speak his lasting worthy fame:) 'To souls fair-purpos'd strength and guidance give; 'In pity to us still let goodness live: 'Let labour have its due! my cot shall be 'From chilling want and guilty murmurs free: 'Let labour have its due;... then peace is mine, 'And never, never shall my heart repine.'

AUTUMN.

ARGUMENT.

_Acorns. Hogs in the wood. Wheat-sowing. The Church. Village girls. The mad girl. The bird-boy's hut. Disappointments; reflections, &c. Euston-hall. Fox-hunting. Old Trouncer. Long nights. A welcome to Winter._

AUTUMN.

III.

Again, the year's _decline_, midst storms and floods, The thund'ring chase, the yellow fading woods, Invite my song; that fain would boldly tell Of upland coverts, and the echoing dell, By turns resounding loud, at eve and morn The swineherd's halloo, or the huntsman's horn.

No more the fields with scatter'd grain supply The restless wand'ring tenants of the STY; From oak to oak they run with eager haste, And wrangling share the first delicious taste Of fallen ACORNS; yet but thinly found Till the strong gale have shook them to the ground. It comes; and roaring woods obedient wave: Their home well pleas'd the joint adventurers leave: The trudging sow leads forth her numerous young, Playful, and white, and clean, the briars among, Till briars and thorns increasing, fence them round, Where last year's mould'ring leaves bestrew the ground, And o'er their heads, loud lash'd by furious squalls, Bright from their cups the rattling treasure falls; Hot thirsty food; whence doubly sweet and cool The welcome margin of some rush-grown pool, The wild duck's lonely haunt, whose jealous eye Guards every point; who sits prepar'd to fly, On the calm bosom of her little lake, Too closely screen'd for ruffian winds to shake; And as the bold intruders press around, At once she starts, and rises with a bound: With bristles rais'd the sudden noise they hear, And ludicrously wild, and wing'd with fear, The herd decamp with more than swinish speed, And snorting dash thro' sedge, and rush, and reed: Through tangling thickets headlong on they go, Then stop, and listen for their fancied foe; The hindmost still the growing panic spreads, Repeated fright the first alarm succeeds, Till Folly's wages, wounds and thorns, they reap: Yet glorying in their fortunate escape, Their groundless terrors by degrees soon cease, And Night's dark reign restores their wonted peace. For now the gale subsides, and from each bough The roosting pheasant's short but frequent crow Invites to rest; and huddling side by side, The herd in closest ambush seek to hide; Seek some warm slope with shagged moss o'erspread, Dry'd leaves their copious covering and their bed. In vain may _Giles_, thro' gath'ring glooms that fall, And solemn silence, urge his piercing call: Whole days and nights they tarry midst their store, Nor quit the woods till oaks can yield no more.

Beyond bleak _Winter's_ rage, beyond the _Spring_ That rolling Earth's unvarying course will bring, Who tills the ground looks on with mental eye, And sees next _Summer's_ sheaves and cloudless sky; And even now, whilst Nature's beauty dies, Deposits SEED, and bids new harvests rise; Seed well prepar'd, and warm'd with glowing lime, 'Gainst earth-bred grubs, and cold, and lapse of time: For searching frosts and various ills invade, Whilst wint'ry months depress the springing blade. The plough moves heavily, and strong the soil, And clogging harrows with augmented toil Dive deep: and clinging mixes with the mould A fat'ning treasure from the nightly fold, And all the cow-yard's highly valu'd store, That late bestrew'd the blacken'd surface o'er. No idling hours are here, when Fancy trims Her dancing taper over outstretch'd limbs, And in her thousand thousand colours drest, Plays round the grassy couch of noontide rest: Here GILES for hours of indolence atones With strong exertion, and with weary bones, And knows no leisure; till the distant chime Of Sabbath bells he hears at sermon time, That down the brook sound sweetly in the gale, Or strike the rising hill, or skim the dale.

Nor his alone the sweets of ease to taste: Kind rest extends to all;... save one poor beast, That true to time and pace, is doom'd to plod, To bring the Pastor to the HOUSE of GOD: Mean structure; where no bones of heroes lie! The rude inelegance of poverty Reigns here alone: else why that roof of straw? Those narrow windows with the frequent flaw? O'er whose low cells the dock and mallow spread, And rampant nettles lift the spiry head, Whilst from the hollows of the tower on high The grey-cap'd daws in saucy legions fly.

Round these lone walls assembling neighbours meet, And tread departed friends beneath their feet; And new-brier'd graves, that prompt the secret sigh, Shew each the spot where he himself must lie. Midst timely greetings village news goes round, Of crops late shorn, or crops that deck the ground; Experienc'd ploughmen in the circle join; While sturdy boys, in feats of strength to shine, With pride elate their young associates brave To jump from hollow-sounding grave to grave; Then close consulting, each his talent lends To plan fresh sports when tedious service ends. Hither at times, with cheerfulness of soul, Sweet _village Maids_ from neighbouring hamlets stroll, That like the light-heel'd does o'er lawns that rove, Look shyly curious; rip'ning into love; For love's their errand: hence the tints that glow On either cheek, an heighten'd lustre know: When, conscious of their charms, e'en Age looks sly, And rapture beams from Youth's observant eye.

THE PRIDE of such a party, Nature's pride, Was lovely POLL;[Footnote: MARY RAYNER, of Ixworth Thorp.] who innocently try'd, With hat of airy shape and ribbons gay, Love to inspire, and stand in Hymen's way: But, ere her _twentieth_ Summer could expand, Or youth was render'd happy with her hand, Her mind's serenity was lost and gone, Her eye grew languid, and she wept alone; Yet causeless seem'd her grief; for quick restrain'd, Mirth follow'd loud, or indignation reign'd: Whims wild and simple led her from her home, The heath, the common, or the fields to roam: Terror and joy alternate rul'd her hours; Now blithe she sung, and gather'd useless flow'rs; Now pluck'd a tender twig from every bough, To whip the hov'ring demons from her brow. Ill-fated Maid! thy guiding spark is fled, And lasting wretchedness awaits thy bed ... Thy bed of straw! for mark, where even now O'er their lost child afflicted parents bow; Their woe she knows not, but perversely coy, Inverted customs yield her sullen joy; Her midnight meals in secresy she takes, Low mutt'ring to the moon, that rising breaks Through night's dark gloom:... oh how much more forlorn _Her_ night, that knows of no returning dawn!...

Slow from the threshold, once her infant seat, O'er the cold earth she crawls to her retreat; Quitting the cot's warm walls unhous'd to lie, Or share the swine's impure and narrow sty; The damp night air her shiv'ring limbs assails; In dreams she moans, and fancied wrongs bewails. When morning wakes, none earlier rous'd than she, When pendent drops fall glitt'ring from the tree; But nought her rayless melancholy cheers, Or sooths her breast, or stops her streaming tears. Her matted locks unornamented flow; Clasping her knees, and waving to and fro;... Her head bow'd down, her faded cheek to hide;... A piteous mourner by the pathway side. Some tufted molehill through the livelong day She calls her throne; there weeps her life away: And oft the gaily passing stranger stays His well-tim'd step, and takes a silent gaze, Till sympathetic drops unbidden start, And pangs quick springing muster round his heart; And soft he treads with other gazers round, And fain would catch her sorrow's plaintive sound: One word alone is all that strikes the ear, One short, pathetic, simple word,... "_Oh dear!_" A thousand times repeated to the wind, That wafts the sigh, but leaves the pang behind! For ever of the proffer'd parley shy, She hears the' unwelcome foot advancing nigh; Nor quite unconscious of her wretched plight, Gives one sad look, and hurries out of sight....

Fair promis'd sunbeams of terrestrial bliss, Health's gallant hopes,... and are ye sunk to this? For in life's road though thorns abundant grow, There still are joys poor Poll can never know; Joys which the gay companions of her prime Sip, as they drift along the stream of time; At eve to hear beside their tranquil home The lifted latch, that speaks the lover come: _That_ love matur'd, next playful on the knee To press the velvet lip of infancy; To stay the tottering step, the features trace;... Inestimable sweets of social peace!

O THOU, who bidst the vernal juices rise! Thou, on whose blasts autumnal foliage flies! Let Peace ne'er leave me, nor my heart grow cold, Whilst life and sanity are mine to hold.

Shorn of their flow'rs that shed th' untreasur'd seed, The withering pasture, and the fading mead, Less tempting grown, diminish more and more, The dairy's pride; sweet Summer's flowing store. New cares succeed, and gentle duties press, Where the fire-side, a school of tenderness, Revives the languid chirp, and warms the blood Of cold-nipt weaklings of the latter brood, That from the shell just bursting into day, Through yard or pond pursue their vent'rous way.

Far weightier cares and wider scenes expand; What devastation marks the new-sown land! "From hungry woodland foes go, _Giles_, and guard The rising wheat; ensure its great reward: A future sustenance, a Summer's pride, Demand thy vigilance: then be it try'd: Exert thy voice, and wield thy shotless gun: Go, tarry there from morn till setting sun."

Keen blows the blast, or ceaseless rain descends; The half-stript hedge a sorry shelter lends. O for a HOVEL, e'er so small or low, Whose roof, repelling winds and early snow, Might bring home's comforts fresh before his eyes! No sooner thought, than see the structure rise, In some sequester'd nook, embank'd around, Sods for its walls, and straw in burdens bound:

Dried fuel hoarded is his richest store, And circling smoke obscures his little door; Whence creeping forth, to duty's call he yields, And strolls the Crusoe of the lonely fields. On whitethorns tow'ring, and the leafless rose, A frost-nipt feast in bright vermilion glows: Where clust'ring sloes in glossy order rise, He crops the loaded branch; a cumb'rous prize; And o'er the flame the sputt'ring fruit he rests, Placing green sods to seat his coming guests; His guests by promise; playmates young and gay:... BUT AH! _fresh pastimes_ lure their steps away! He sweeps his hearth, and homeward looks in vain, Till feeling _Disappointment's_ cruel pain, His fairy revels are exchang'd for rage, His banquet marr'd, grown dull his hermitage. The field becomes his prison, till on high Benighted birds to shades and coverts fly. Midst air, health, daylight, can he prisoner be? If fields are prisons, where is Liberty? Here still she dwells, and here her votaries stroll; But disappointed hope untunes the soul: Restraints unfelt whilst hours of rapture flow, When troubles press, to chains and barriers grow. Look then from trivial up to greater woes; From the poor bird-boy with his roasted sloes, To where the dungeon'd mourner heaves the sigh; Where not one cheering sun-beam meets his eye. Though ineffectual pity thine may be, No wealth, no pow'r, to set the captive free; Though _only_ to thy ravish'd _sight_ is given The golden path that HOWARD trod to heaven; Thy slights can make the wretched more forlorn, And deeper drive affliction's barbed thorn. Say not, "I'll come and cheer thy gloomy cell With news of dearest friends; how good, how well: I'll be a joyful herald to thine heart:" Then fail, and play the worthless trifler's part, To sip flat pleasures from thy glass's brim, And waste the precious hour that's due to him. In mercy spare the base unmanly blow: Where can he turn, to whom complain of you? Back to past joys in vain his thoughts may stray; Trace and retrace the beaten worn-out way, The rankling injury will pierce his breast, And curses on thee break his midnight rest.

Bereft of song, and ever cheering green, The soft endearments of the Summer scene, New harmony pervades the solemn wood, Dear to the soul, and healthful to the blood: For bold exertion follows on the sound Of distant sportsmen, and the chiding hound; First heard from kennel bursting, mad with joy, Where smiling EUSTON boasts her good FITZROY, Lord of pure alms, and gifts that wide extend; The farmer's patron, and the poor man's friend: Whose mansion glitt'ring with the eastern ray, Whose elevated temple, points the way, O'er slopes and lawns, the park's extensive pride, To where the victims of the chace reside, Ingulf'd in earth, in conscious safety warm, Till lo! a plot portends their coming harm.

In earliest hours of dark unhooded morn, Ere yet one rosy cloud bespeaks the dawn, Whilst far abroad THE FOX pursues his prey, He's doom'd to risk the perils of the day, From his strong hold block'd out; perhaps to bleed, Or owe his life to fortune or to speed. For now the pack, impatient rushing on, Range through the darkest coverts one by one; Trace every spot; whilst down each noble glade That guides the eye beneath a changeful shade, The loit'ring sportsman feels th' instinctive flame, And checks his steed to mark the springing game. Midst intersecting cuts and winding ways The huntsman cheers his dogs, and anxious strays Where every narrow riding, even shorn, Gives back the echo of his mellow horn: Till fresh and lightsome, every power untried, The starting fugitive leaps by his side, His lifted finger to his ear he plies, And the view halloo bids a chorus rise Of dogs quick-mouth'd, and shouts that mingle loud, As bursting thunder rolls from cloud to cloud. With ears erect, and chest of vigorous mould, O'er ditch, o'er fence, unconquerably bold, The shining courser lengthens every bound, And his strong foot-locks suck the moisten'd ground, As from the confines of the wood they pour, And joyous villages partake the roar. O'er heath far stretch'd, or down, or valley low. The stiff-limb'd peasant, glorying in the show, Pursues in vain; where youth itself soon tires, Spite of the transports that the chace inspires; For who unmounted long can charm the eye, Or hear the music of the leading cry?

Poor faithful TROUNCER! thou canst lead no more; All thy fatigues and all thy triumphs o'er! Triumphs of worth, whose honorary fame Was still to follow true the hunted game; Beneath enormous oaks, Britannia's boast, In thick impenetrable coverts lost, When the warm pack in fault'ring silence stood, Thine was the note that rous'd the list'ning wood, Rekindling every joy with tenfold force, Through all the mazes of the tainted course. Still foremost thou the dashing stream to cross, And tempt along the animated horse; Foremost o'er fen or level mead to pass, And sweep the show'ring dew-drops from the grass; Then bright emerging from the mist below To climb the woodland hill's exulting brow.

Pride of thy race! with worth far less than thine, Full many human leaders daily shine! Less faith, less constancy, less gen'rous zeal!... Then no disgrace mine humble verse shall feel; Where not one lying line to riches bows, Or poison'd sentiment from rancour flows; Nor flowers are strewn around Ambition's car:... An honest dog's a nobler theme by far. Each sportsman heard the tidings with a sigh, When Death's cold touch had stopt his tuneful cry; And though high deeds, and fair exalted praise, In memory liv'd, and flow'd in rustic lays, Short was the strain of monumental woe: "_Foxes, rejoice! here buried lies your foe.[A]_" [Footnote A: Inscribed on a stone in Euston Park wall.]

In safety hous'd, throughout NIGHT'S _length'ning_ reign, The Cock sends forth a loud and piercing strain; More frequent, as the glooms of midnight flee, And hours roll round, that brought him liberty, When Summer's early dawn, mild, clear, and bright, Chas'd quick away the transitory night:... Hours now in darkness veil'd; yet loud the scream Of Geese impatient for the playful stream; And all the feather'd tribe imprison'd raise Their morning notes of inharmonious praise; And many a clamorous Hen and cockrel gay, When daylight slowly through the fog breaks way, Fly wantonly abroad: but ah, how soon The shades of twilight follow hazy noon, Short'ning the busy day!... day that slides by Amidst th' unfinish'd toils of HUSBANDRY; Toils still each morn resum'd with double care, To meet the icy terrors of the year; To meet the threats of _Boreas_ undismay'd, And _Winter's_ gathering frowns and hoary head.

THEN welcome, COLD; welcome, ye _snowy_ nights! Heaven midst your rage shall mingle pure delights, And confidence of hope the soul sustain, While devastation sweeps along the plain: Nor shall the child of poverty despair, But bless THE POWER that rules the _changing year_; Assur'd,... tho' horrors round his cottage reign,... That _Spring_ will come, and Nature smile again.

WINTER.

ARGUMENT.

_Tenderness to cattle. Frozen turnips. The cow-yard. Night. The farm-house. Fire-side. Farmer's advice and instruction. Nightly cares of the stable. Dobbin. The post-horse. Sheep-stealing dogs. Walks occasioned thereby. The ghost. Lamb time. Returning Spring. Conclusion._

WINTER.

IV.

With kindred pleasures mov'd, and cares opprest, Sharing alike our weariness and rest; Who lives the daily partner of our hours, Thro' every change of heat, and frost, and show'rs; Partakes our cheerful meals, partaking first In mutual labour and in mutual thirst; The kindly intercourse will ever prove A bond of amity and social love. To more than man this generous warmth extends, And oft the team and shiv'ring herd befriends; Tender solicitude the bosom fills, And Pity executes what Reason wills: Youth learns compassion's tale from every tongue, And flies to aid the helpless and the young;

When now, unsparing as the scourge of war, Blasts follow blasts, and groves dismantled roar, Around their home the storm-pinch'd CATTLE lows, No nourishment in frozen pastures grows; Yet frozen pastures every morn resound With fair abundance thund'ring to the ground. For though on hoary twigs no buds peep out, And e'en the hardy bramble cease to sprout, Beneath dread WINTER'S level sheets of snow The sweet nutritious _Turnip_ deigns to grow. Till now imperious want and wide-spread dearth Bid Labour claim her treasures from the earth. On GILES, and such as Giles, the labour falls, To strew the frequent load where hunger calls. On driving gales sharp hail indignant flies, And sleet, more irksome still, assails his eyes; Snow clogs his feet; or if no snow is seen, The field with all its juicy store to screen, Deep goes the frost, till every root is found A rolling mass of ice upon the ground. No tender ewe can break her nightly fast, Nor heifer strong begin the cold repast, Till _Giles_ with pond'rous beetle foremost go, And scatt'ring splinters fly at every blow; When pressing round him, eager for the prize, From their mixt breath warm exhalations rise.

If now in beaded rows drops deck the spray, While _Phoebus_ grants a momentary ray, Let but a cloud's broad shadow intervene, And stiffen'd into gems the drops are seen; And down the furrow'd oak's broad southern side Streams of dissolving rime no longer glide.

THOUGH NIGHT approaching bids for rest prepare, Still the flail echoes through the frosty air, Nor stops till deepest shades of darkness come, Sending at length the weary laborer home. From him, with bed and nightly food supplied, Throughout the yard, hous'd round on every side, Deep-plunging Cows their rustling feast enjoy, And snatch sweet mouthfuls from the passing boy, Who moves unseen beneath his trailing load, Fills the tall racks, and leaves a scatter'd road; Where oft the swine from ambush warm and dry Bolt out, and scamper headlong to their sty, When _Giles_ with well-known voice, already there, Deigns them a portion of his evening care.

_Him_, though the cold may pierce, and storms molest, Succeeding hours shall cheer with warmth and rest: