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If to the city sped-What waits him there? To see profusion that he must not share; To see ten thousand baneful arts combin'd To pamper luxury, and thin mankind ; To see each joy the sons of pleasure know, Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe. Here while the courtier glitters in brocade, There the pale artist plies the sickly trade; Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomps display,
There the black gibbet glooms beside the way.
The dome where pleasure holds her midnight
Here, richly deckt, admits the gorgeous train; Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare.
Ye friends to truth, ye statesman who survey The rich man's joys encrease, the poor's decay, 'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand Between a splendid and a happy land.
TAKE physic, pomp;
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel,
Lear, act iii.
AH little think the gay licentious proud, Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround;
They who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth, And wanton, often cruel riot waste;
Ah little think they, how many feel, this very moment, death,
And all the sad variety of pain :
How many pine in want, and dungeon glooms,
The conscious heart of charity would warm,
THEIR'S is yon house that holds the parish poor,
Whose walls of mud scarce bear the broken door;
There children dwell who know no parents care,!
Dejected widows with unheeded tears,
And crippled age with more than childhood fears! The lame, the blind, and far the happiest they The moping ideot and the madman gay.
Here too the sick their final doom receive, Heré brought, amid the scenes of grief, to grieve: Where the loud groans from some sad chamber flow
Mixt with the clamours of the crowd below,
But still that scrap is bought with many a sigh,
Say ye, opprest by some fantastic woes,
Such is that room which one rude beam divides, And naked rafters form the sloping sides; Where the vile bands that bind the thatch are seen,' And lath and mud are all that lie between ;
Save one dull pane, that, coarsely patch'd, gives
To the rude tempest, yet excludes the day:
THE first person, who, having inclosed a piece of ground, bethought himself of saying, This is mine, and found people simple enough to believe him, was the real founder of civil society. From how many crimes, battles, and murders, from how many horrors and misfortunes would not that man have saved mankind, who should have pulled up the stakes, or filled up the ditch, crying out to his fellows, "Beware of listening to this impostor; you are undone if you once forget that the fruits of the earth belong to us all, and that the earth belongs to nobody."
ROUSSEAU. Inegalite des Hommes, part ii.
THE poets, whom Plato would have excluded from his republic, appear to have understood better than the majority of philosophers and legislators, the origin, operation, and progress of the sentiments of the human heart. They have styled the golden age that happy period when individual property was unknown; sensible that the distinction MADLE