Lines Suggested By Ode Xxix. Book I. Of Horace - Poem by John Kenyon
And so, dear Hicks! on 'Nature's wealth'
Your new-found phrase—and rustic health
Intent, and cottage-life;
You scheme from town to steal away,
And chain yourself, or so they say,
To that grave joy—a wife.
What parish girl shall find employ
To deck the bride? what louting boy
Lead out the one-horse chair,
When, just at noon-day, forth you ride,
Correctly spousal, side by side,
And sadly take the air?
And can it be, dear Hicks! that you
For such dull raptures would eschew
The life we lead in town?
No, Hicks! I'd just as soon believe
One might hold water in a sieve,
Or make up-Thames run down,
As you desert the volumes rare
Panizzi buys up every where,
Or gets by hooks and crooks;
Or bear to lose your daily walk
To the Museum, and his talk,
Still better than his books.
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