no more to Sidney Gardens stray,
If, Bath, I wrong thee in my hum'rous lay.
Court of King Blad', where crescents circling rise
Above each other till they reach the skies;
And hills o'er-topping with their verdant green
The Abbey Church, are in the distance seen:

~296~~Where inns invite ye, and where lodgings smile A ready welcome to
some Grecian pile; Where chairmen wait ye, ready to attend And box ye up
upon your latter end; Where summer breezes on Hygeia wait, And cards and
fashion hold their courts of state. Hither we're come to Bath, to spy
and tell What reigning follies mark the beau and belle; What stars
eccentric move within thy sphere, Or who's the greatest lion of the
year. "Have at ye all," we satirists give no quarter; Yet shall our
mirth prove grateful as Bath water.

The distant appearance, or first glimpse of the city of Bath, is enough
to impress a stranger with the most favourable opinions of the place.
The regularity of the streets, and the tasteful character of the
architecture of the principal buildings, are certainly superior to that
of any other place of public resort in England; added to which, there is
an attention to cleanliness apparent in the costume of the lower classes
that is not so conspicuous in other places. "Blest source of health!
seated on rising ground, With friendly hills by nature guarded round;
From eastern blasts and sultry south secure, The Air's balsamic, and the
soil is pure." Surrounded by delightful scenery, and guarded from the
piercing north winds by the hilly barriers of nature, the spot
seems above all others best calculated to restore the health of the
valetudinarian, whose constitution has become shattered and infirm by
a course of fashionable dissipation, or a lengthened residence in the
pestilential climates of the Indies. "Sweet Bath! the liveliest city of
the land; Where health and pleasure ramble hand in hand, Where smiling
belles their earliest visit pay, And faded maids their lingering blooms
delay. Delightful scenes of elegance and ease! Realms of the gay, where
every sport can please." ~297~~Thus sings the Bath poet, Bayly; who,
if he is somewhat too servile an imitation of Moore in his style, has
certainly more of originality in his matter than generally distinguishes
poems of such a local nature. One of the greatest characters in the
city of Bath was the worthy host of our hotel, the Castle; at whose door
s