From
CAELIA
to
CLOE
.
By
the
Same
.
I
Rural
life
enjoy
,
the
town's
your
taste
,
In
this
we
differ
,
twins
in
all
the
rest
.
Yet
when
the
dog-star
brings
diseases
on
,
And
each
fond
mother
trembles
for
her
son
;
Now
when
the
Mall's
forlorn
,
the
beaux
and
belles
All
for
retirement
crowd
to
Tunbridge-Wells
;
Say
,
will
not
CLOE
for
awhile
withdraw
From
dear
Vaux-hall
and
charming
Ranelagh
?
Sure
at
this
homely
hutt
one
may
contrive
Awhile
not
only
to
exist
,
but
live
;
For
not
dull
landscapes
here
my
thoughts
engross
,
Woods
,
lawns
,
and
rills
,
and
grottoes
green
with
moss
.
No
,
the
same
appetite
that
courts
infuse
,
Haunts
in
retreat
,
and
to
the
shade
pursues
.
Here
all
my
care
are
to
receive
and
pay
Visits
,
my
studies
a
romance
or
play
.
And
then
to
pass
the
live-long
Sunday
off
,
Walks
or
a
ride
,
nay
church
serves
well
enough
.
At
church
,
one
has
a
chance
to
see
cockades
,
Lur'd
thither
in
pursuit
of
country-maids
:
Or
tall
Hibernian
smit
with
fond
desire
To
wed
the
only
daughter
of
a
squire
.
Cards
have
their
turn
,
to
kill
a
tedious
hour
,
If
baulk'd
of
whist
,
piquette
is
in
my
pow'r
;
For
oft
the
captain
,
fresh
from
town
,
bestows
A
friendly
week
upon
his
friend
my
spouse
.
Then
gaily
glide
the
days
on
downy
feet
,
For
sure
the
captain
has
prodigious
wit
;
O
I
could
hear
his
sweet
discourse
for
ever
,
Of
all
that's
done
,
and
who
and
who's
together
,
Oft
far
and
wide
for
new
delights
I
range
,
True
sex
,
and
constant
to
the
love
of
change
.
Is
there
within
ten
miles
a
troop
review'd
,
An
auction
of
old
goods
,
an
interlude
By
strolling
players
,
an
horse-race
,
or
a
ball
!
There
to
be
seen
I
have
an
urgent
call
.
The
labours
of
the
plough
are
then
forgot
,
And
THOMAS
mounts
the
box
in
liv'ry
coat
.
Scenes
odd
as
these
,
if
CLOE
can
endure
,
(
And
yet
these
scenes
are
town
in
miniature
)
Come
,
and
reflect
on
Ranelagh
with
scorn
,
Content
ev'n
here
,
at
least
till
routs
return
.