The Description Of A Cottage Poem by Samuel Bowden

Virgil

Let others praise in pompous rhime,
Villas, and palaces sublime;
Chatsworth, magnificently great,
Blenheim, or Stowe's romantic seat:
My humbler Muse shall not disdain,
To sing the Cottage or the Swain:
Where you, with wiser thoughts inspir'd,
Vouchsafe, my Lord, to live retir'd;
Amidst the shade bid merit bloom,
And raise old Asberry from the tomb.


In days of pious persecution,
When saints usurp'd the constitution.
A grave Divine this Cottage chose,
A safe asylum from his foes;
Where, free from sacrilegious rage,
He liv'd in peaceful pilgrimage;
Furnish'd with books, and rustic spade,
Alternately to dig or read;
'Till death, as antient records tell,
Destroy'd the Hermit, and the Cell.
But you, my Lord, whose candid spirit,
Still prompts you to distinguish merit,
Pleas'd suffering virtue to requite,
And bring obscurity to light,
Have the old mansion rais'd once more
In pristine plainness, as before:
Adorn'd with antiquated tools,
Grave chairs, and venerable stools.


A Horse-shoe at the threshold lies,
And all unhallow'd feet defies;
To exorcise the habitation,
From evil spell, and fascination.
The door appears like coat of mail,
Emboss'd with many a massy nail.
Around the reverend walls we see
Wainscot of antient pedigree;
With pictur'd Ballads cover'd o'er,
Of Chevy Chace, or of Jane Shore;
The story of the Wand'ring Jew,
And how St. George the Dragon slew;
Of Prester John, and Robin Hood,
And of the Children in the Wood;
Three Kings of Cologne, Friar Bacon,
And how the town of Troy was taken,
With Merlin's dreams-and many more,
Hung round the wainscot, or the door.


Oak shelves, oak tables, black as jet,
Mock the bureau, and the beau-fet.
Joint-stools, and shining coffers vie
With ebon, or mahogony.


Hail! venerable, British oak,
Beneath whose shade the Druids spoke:
Deriv'd from thy oraculous tree,
Sprung misseltoe, and prophesy;
And mystic sounds inspir'd by Jove,
Once murmur'd thro' Dodona's grove.


Bright porrengers-a numerous band,
Aloft in glittering order stand:
And maple trenchards-decent sight!
High on carv'd cup-boards smile in white.
A looking-glass, adorn'd with red,
Still glitters at the window head;
And not far off-akin together,
The razor, hone, and strap of leather;
For things by sympathy ally'd,
Associate near each other's side.
Close by a painted hour-glass stands,
Where time the moments rolls in sands.
On hanging rack, exalted high,
Old spits, and dusty truncheons lie;
Cleavers, and rusty swords forsaken,
With hostile look, guard rusty bacon.


Here ropes of onions please the view,
Dangling-the anchorite's ragoùt,
Rich root-the nectar of old age,
And honour of the hermitage.
Plant of ambrosial, pungent taste,
The country swain's divine repast,
Thy vigorous juice in former days
Egyptian Pyramids cou'd raise.


Nor shall the andirons Gothic size,
Or pots escape the Muse's eyes;
Whose brazen heads forever bright,
Like Gorgon's shield reflect the light.
A tinder-box of look obscure,
With all its houshold furniture,
Hangs near the rush-light candles ty'd,
Eternal neighbours, side by side.


Nor shall thy worth unsung remain,
O! gossip's bowl-of structure plain,
Whose potent liquor can inspire
The Clown with wit-the Bard with fire.
Sweet source of many a midnight tale,
Replete with nutmeg, toast, and ale.


Without, a garden, neat and clean,
With leeks, and box forever green,
Where sage, rosemary, crimsons grow,
And savory, pot-herbs in a row;
With parsly, not unknown to fame,
Gay garland at the Olympic game.


Here you, my Lord, oft' condescend
At vacant hours to treat a friend;
Here lay aside the forms of state,
The splendid harness of the great,
Read, or converse with whom you please,
And live in philosophic ease.
Great Epictetus thus withdrew,
Scipio, and Cincinnatus too;
Here triumph'd o'er mankind much more,
Than all their conquests did before.


Life's a vain farce-and he most blest,
Who finds some peaceful port of rest;
Some safe Linternum of retreat,
Or mossy cell, or rural seat;
And happy in his Hermitage,
Smiles at the follies of the age.