he rural scene;
But, if yet dearer joys supply the void,
That, even there, will sometimes intervene
When days are cold, and nights are long,
And business goes a little wrong,
Should an endearing faithful _Wife_ be seen,
With the warm light of love she chases gloomy spleen.

I.

As the Sabine Matron chaste,
Active as th' Apulian Wife,
See she assumes, with cheerful haste,
The pleasing cares of wedded life;
Draws the clean vestment o'er the little limbs,
And, when the tearful eye of passion swims,
With mild authority commanding,
Repressing ill, and good expanding,
Anxious she weeds the infant heart betimes,
Ere ill propension thrive, and ripen into crimes.

II.

Dusky grows the winter-eve,
In hurdled cotes the flocks are penn'd;
Her vessels pure the frothing milk receive,
As from swell'd udders its full streams descend.
Bright the crackling faggots blaze,
While she strains the eager gaze,
O'er the dim vale to see her Husband come,
With tir'd, yet willing step, to his warm, happy home.

I.

Her beating heart, and gladden'd eyes
Perceive him ope the wicker gate;
And swift her busy hand supplies
The flowing bowl, the steaming plate;
Her sparkling wine from their own vintage press'd;
From their own stores her grateful viand dress'd;
Less welcome far the proud collation,
Cull'd with painful preparation,
When earth, and air, and seas, have been explor'd
For those expensive meats, that pile the Consul's board.

II.

Not the shell-fish, pampering food!
Of Lucrine's azure lake the boast;
Nor luscious product of the eastern flood,
Driven by the stormy winds upon our coast;
Nor costly birds, that hither rove
Natives of Ionian grove,
Can with more poignant zest his senses meet
Than the love-kneaded cates of this unpurchas'd treat.

I.

[3]To his border's guardian Power
When he spreads the vernal feast.
Then bleeds the kid, in lucky hour,
From the hungry wolf releas'd[4];
Then round the primal lamb's sweet flesh is seen
The crisp salubrious herbage of the green;
And, from loaded boughs descending,
Unctuous olives richly blending;--
These form the dainties of his festal day,
When every heart expands, and every face is gay.

II.

Circled by a jocund train,
With joy the new-shorn Flock he hears
Come bleating homeward o'er the russet