THINGS AS THEY WERE, &c.

A POEM.

BOOK I.

RETURN fair Plenty ! angel ever bright,

Return, and bless this once high-favour'd isle; Oft have we greeted thee with calm delight,— Again on us, sweet cherub, deign to smile. Revisit soon the British nymphs and swains,

And chase our gloomy fears and cares away :
Thy presence will disperse our various pains,
As Sol's bright beams disperse the mists of day.
Thou fairer than the fabled queen of love,

On whom our wishes ardent now are stay'd;
Come, let thy wonted smiles our griefs remove,
On my bent knees I here invoke thy aid.
My muse inspire: enable me to tell

Why absent thus from this thy fav'rite state:

Discover what thy charming smiles repel,

And why so chang'd, so dreary is our fate. What are the causes of this scarcity?

This woeful dearth which now we feel so keen? Which, like the winter's frost, we cannot flee, Destroys and blasts fair Nature's works unseen. "Tis fell Monopoly, with his fierce band,

Which plenty from Great Britain's shore affrights; This cruel foe we cannot now withstand, Deprives us of our just and natural rights. But chiefly the monopolizing farms,

Are the grand cause of all our pain and grief; The fruitful source of these corroding harms:Of ills that ask redress, these are the chief.

The tempests, fury-wing'd, sometimes o'erturn
Large spreading trees, the cottage, and the farm;
And its dire force makes num'rous rustics mourn,
As the fair glebe's disrob'd of ev'ry charm:
The high-swoln river overflows its mound,

When snows dissolve, or rains continue long;
And sweeps the crops which in the vale are found,
The rapid torrent grows so wide and strong:
The flame, fierce raging, urg'd by boist'rous winds,
Spreads desolation wide, and dire dismay,
When in its furious course it nothing finds,
T'abate its force, or its dread progress stay.
But none of these, destructive as they are,
Bring half so great, so wide calamity,

Such far-spread ills, such fell distress, and fear
For future days, as dread monopoly.

This dreadful monster rules our fruitful land,
With such despotic, universal sway,
That nought escapes his grasping, griping hand:-
Him too, alas! 'does either Ind obey.'

Blessing, and being blest, ACASTO dwelt,
On yon sweet spot, twice forty summers past;
Nor one among his num'rous tenants felt

A moment's pain, that there his lot was cast.
He saw them happy, and was highly pleas'd;
Him, as a father, tenderly they lov'd;
Were they in misery? soon their pains he eas'd,

Was he unwell? their grieving hearts were moy'd. Belov'd and loving! all his happy hours,

Glided along in sweet tranquillity; And all exerted still their utmost pow'rs T'avert or sooth each sad calamity. From his lov'd mansion rarely did he stray, To seek for pleasures in the smoky town; Where numbers dream their useless lives away, Or seek in noise and mirth their cares to drown. Rather among his tenants would he roam,

And taste their joys, and gladden all the place; Or walk around his charming happy home,

And with his eye the beauteous landscape trace. Thence he beheld spread o'er the wide champaign, Innum'rous cots, and farms of small extent, Where multitudes of peasants could obtain,

What their few wants required, and were content.

Here, near at hand, the lowing kine did feed
In pastures small, but rich, and watered well;

B3

There, num'rous flocks of snowy white were spread, In prospect fair all o'er the enamell'd vale. Embosom'd soft in tufted trees appear'd,

The hamlets scatter'd o'er this ample space; While tow'rs and spires their lofty heads uprear'd, And did the fair, the varied landscape grace. Some miles in front, each steering for its port, Rich freighted ships were riding o'er the wave; Of coasters too, a numerous resort,

Which rarely did the ocean's fury brave: Or waiting for a favourable wind,

To waft them to some friendly foreign shore, A fleet was view'd; and when the fates were kind, Old Neptune's sons would cheerfully unmoor. From Dean's high forest o'er the wood-crown'd hills, Oe'r Vaga's banks, and Piercefield's shady grove; Oe'r dim-discover'd towr's, and seats, and vills, From nearer views th' unsated eye might rave. From thence o'er Monmouth's pleasant woods and vales, Far stretching westward down the sea-wash'd shore; Where oft the foaming billow greatly swells,

When blust ring winds and furious tempests roar. More distant still, and mingling with the sky, Height above height the Cambrian hills uprear'd Their tow'ring heads; and to the keenest eye, The heav'ns and earth uniting here appear'd.

Such was thy lot Acasto! such thy joys,

Such was thy unadulterated taste;

Thrice happy thou, who far from strife and noise,

Didst spend thy days in pleasures pure and chaste.

Ye great, ye wealthy ones, who read my tale,
If e'er my tale should come into such hands;
May heav'n such soft delights to you reveal,

When you like him survey your various lands.
May you revive each sadden'd drooping heart,
That pines beneath Monopoly's fell frown,
Where'er of British ground you claim a part,

And joys unfading be your glorious crown.

Ah me! that lawn* (but now 'tis vain to weep)
As rich and lovely as th' Hesperian field;
Rich in its num'rous flocks of bleating sheep,
Rich in its pasture, which to none might yield.
Whene'er I view the same I feel dismay'd,

And then retrace my youthful days in vain; Those scenes where once my careless childhood stray'd 'A stranger then to wasting grief and pain.' Then near ten thousand sheep graz'd on the plain, And I among the frisking lambkins ran ; Then met at eve's approach the youthful train, And void of care our rural sports began. As heretofore adown th' empurpled west, Bright Phoebus rides and sheds his influence sweet, But now to play ere they retire to rest,

No sprightly youths, no rosy maidens meet. Then could each cottager among the flock, Survey or more or less he call'd his own; Besides of geese and ducks he had a stock, Which did on festive days his table crown.

*So called by GILPIN in his observations on the Wye, &c.