THE
CIT's
COUNTRY-BOX
,
1757.
By
ROBERT
LLOYD
,
A.M.
Vos
sapere
&
solos
aio
bene
vivere
,
quorum
,
Conspicitur
nitidis
fundata
pecunia
villis
.
HOR.
THE
wealthy
cit
,
grown
old
in
trade
,
Now
wishes
for
the
rural
shade
,
And
buckles
to
his
one-horse
chair
,
Old
Dobbin
,
or
the
founder'd
mare
;
While
wedg'd
in
closely
by
his
side
,
Sits
madam
,
his
unweildly
bride
,
With
Jacky
on
a
stool
before
'em
,
And
out
they
jog
in
due
decorum
.
Scarce
past
the
turnpike
half
a
mile
,
How
all
the
country
seems
to
smile
!
And
as
they
slowly
jog
together
,
The
cit
commends
the
road
and
weather
;
While
madam
doats
upon
the
trees
,
And
longs
for
ev'ry
house
she
sees
,
Admires
its
views
,
its
situation
,
And
thus
she
opens
her
oration
.
What
signify
the
loads
of
wealth
;
Without
that
richest
jewel
,
health
?
Excuse
the
fondness
of
a
wife
,
Who
doats
upon
your
precious
life
!
Such
easeless
toil
,
such
constant
care
,
Is
more
than
human
strength
can
bear
.
One
may
observe
it
in
your
face
—
Indeed
,
my
dear
,
you
break
apace
:
And
nothing
can
your
health
repair
,
But
exercise
,
and
country
air
.
Sir
Traffic
has
a
house
,
you
know
,
About
a
mile
from
Cheney-Row
:
He's
a
good
man
,
indeed
'tis
true
,
But
not
so
warm
,
my
dear
,
as
you
:
And
folks
are
always
apt
to
sneer
—
One
would
not
be
out-done
,
my
dear
!
Sir
Traffic's
name
so
well
apply'd
Awak'd
his
brother
merchant's
pride
;
And
Thrifty
,
who
had
all
his
life
Paid
utmost
deference
to
his
wife
,
Confess'd
her
arguments
had
reason
,
And
by
th'
approaching
summer
season
,
Draws
a
few
hundreds
from
the
stocks
,
And
purchases
his
country
box
.
Some
three
or
four
mile
out
of
town
,
(
An
hour's
ride
will
bring
you
down
,
)
He
fixes
on
his
choice
abode
,
Not
half
a
furlong
from
the
road
:
And
so
convenient
does
it
lay
,
The
stages
pass
it
ev'ry
day
:
And
then
so
snug
,
so
mighty
pretty
,
To
have
an
house
so
near
the
city
!
Take
but
your
places
at
the
Boar
You're
set
down
at
the
very
door
.
Well
then
,
suppose
them
fix'd
at
last
,
White-washing
,
painting
,
scrubbing
past
,
Hugging
themselves
in
ease
and
clover
,
With
all
the
fuss
of
moving
over
;
Lo
,
a
new
heap
of
whims
are
bred
!
And
wanton
in
my
lady's
head
.
Well
to
be
sure
,
it
must
be
own'd
,
It
is
a
charming
spot
of
ground
;
So
sweet
a
distance
for
a
ride
,
And
all
about
so
countrified
!
'Twould
come
to
but
a
trifling
price
To
make
it
quite
a
paradise
;
I
cannot
bear
those
nasty
rails
,
Those
ugly
broken
mouldy
pales
:
Suppose
,
my
dear
,
instead
of
these
,
We
build
a
railing
,
all
Chinese
,
Although
one
hates
to
be
expos'd
,
'Tis
dismal
to
be
thus
inclos'd
;
One
hardly
any
object
sees
—
I
wish
you'd
fell
those
odious
trees
.
Objects
continual
passing
by
Were
something
to
amuse
the
eye
,
But
to
be
pent
within
the
walls
—
One
might
as
well
be
at
St.
Paul's
.
Our
house
beholders
would
adore
,
Was
there
a
level
lawn
before
,
Nothing
its
views
to
incommode
,
But
quite
laid
open
to
the
road
;
While
ev'ry
trav'ler
in
amaze
,
Should
on
our
little
mansion
gaze
,
And
pointing
to
the
choice
retreat
,
Cry
,
that's
Sir
Thrifty's
country
seat
.
No
doubt
her
arguments
prevail
,
For
madam's
TASTE
can
never
fail
.
Blest
age
!
when
all
men
may
procure
The
title
of
a
connoisseur
;
When
noble
and
ignoble
herd
Are
govern'd
by
a
single
word
;
Though
,
like
the
royal
German
dames
,
It
bears
an
hundred
Christian
names
;
As
Genius
,
Fancy
,
Judgment
,
Goût
,
Whim
,
Caprice
,
Je-ne
scai-quoi
,
Virtù
:
Which
appellations
all
describe
TASTE
,
and
the
modern
tasteful
tribe
.
Now
bricklay'rs
,
carpenters
,
and
joiners
,
With
Chinese
artists
,
and
designers
,
Produce
their
schemes
of
alteration
,
To
work
this
wond'rous
reformation
.
The
useful
dome
,
which
secret
stood
,
Embosom'd
in
the
yew-tree's
wood
,
The
trav'ler
with
amazement
sees
A
temple
,
Gothic
,
or
Chinese
,
With
many
a
bell
,
and
tawdry
rag
on
,
And
crested
with
a
sprawling
dragon
;
A
wooden
arch
is
bent
astride
A
ditch
of
water
,
four
foot
wide
,
With
angles
,
curves
,
and
zigzag
lines
,
From
Halfpenny's
exact
designs
.
In
front
,
a
level
lawn
is
seen
,
Without
a
shrub
upon
the
green
,
Where
Taste
would
want
its
first
great
law
,
But
for
the
skulking
,
sly
ha-ha
,
By
whose
miraculous
assistance
,
You
gain
a
prospect
two
fields
distance
.
And
now
from
Hyde-Park
Corner
come
The
gods
of
Athens
,
and
of
Rome
.
Here
squabby
Cupids
take
their
places
,
With
Venus
,
and
the
clumsy
graces
:
Apollo
there
,
with
aim
so
clever
,
Stretches
his
leaden
bow
for
ever
;
And
there
,
without
the
pow'r
to
fly
,
Stands
fix'd
a
tip-toe
Mercury
.
The
villa
thus
completely
grac'd
,
All
own
,
that
Thrifty
has
a
taste
;
And
madam's
female
friends
,
and
cousins
,
With
common-council-men
,
by
dozens
,
Flock
ev'ry
Sunday
to
the
feat
,
To
stare
about
them
,
and
to
eat
.