RURAL
ELEGANCE
:
An
ODE
to
the
late
Duchess
of
SOMERSET
.
Written
1750.
By
WILLIAM
SHENSTONE
,
Esq
;
I.
WHILE
orient
skies
restore
the
day
,
And
dew-drops
catch
the
lucid
ray
;
Amid
the
sprightly
scenes
of
morn
,
Will
aught
the
Muse
inspire
?
Oh
!
peace
to
yonder
clamorous
horn
That
drowns
the
sacred
lyre
!
II
.
Ye
rural
Thanes
that
o'er
the
mossy
down
Some
panting
,
timorous
hare
pursue
;
Does
nature
mean
your
joys
alone
to
crown
?
Say
,
does
she
smoothe
her
lawns
for
you
?
For
you
does
Echo
bid
the
rocks
reply
,
And
urg'd
by
rude
constraint
resound
the
jovial
cry
?
III
.
See
from
the
neighbouring
hill
,
forlorn
The
wretched
swain
your
sport
survey
;
He
finds
his
faithful
fences
torn
,
He
finds
his
labour'd
crops
a
prey
;
He
sees
his
flock
—
no
more
in
circles
feed
;
Haply
beneath
your
ravage
bleed
,
And
with
no
random
curses
loads
the
deed
.
IV
.
Nor
yet
,
ye
swains
,
conclude
That
Nature
smiles
for
you
alone
;
Your
bounded
souls
,
and
your
conceptions
crude
,
The
proud
,
the
selfish
boast
disown
:
Yours
be
the
produce
of
the
soil
;
O
may
it
still
reward
your
toil
!
Nor
ever
the
defenceless
train
Of
clinging
infants
,
ask
support
in
vain
!
V.
But
tho'
the
various
harvest
gild
your
plains
,
Does
the
mere
landschape
feast
your
eye
?
Or
the
warm
hope
of
distant
gains
Far
other
cause
of
glee
supply
?
Is
not
the
red-streak's
future
juice
The
source
of
your
delight
profound
,
Where
Ariconium
pours
her
gems
profuse
,
Purpling
a
whole
horizon
round
?
Athirst
ye
praise
the
limpid
stream
,
'tis
true
:
But
tho'
,
the
pebbled
shores
among
,
It
mimick
no
unpleasing
song
,
The
limpid
fountain
murmurs
not
for
you
.
VI
.
Unpleas'd
ye
see
the
thickets
bloom
,
Unpleas'd
the
Spring
her
flowery
robe
resume
;
Unmov'd
the
mountain's
airy
pile
,
The
dappled
mead
without
a
smile
.
O
let
a
rural
conscious
Muse
,
For
well
she
knows
,
your
froward
sense
accuse
:
Forth
to
the
solemn
oak
you
bring
the
square
,
And
span
the
massy
trunk
,
before
you
cry
,
'tis
fair
.
VII
.
Nor
yet
ye
learn'd
,
not
yet
ye
courtly
train
,
If
haply
from
your
haunts
ye
stray
To
waste
with
us
a
summer's
day
,
Exclude
the
taste
of
every
swain
,
Nor
our
untutor'd
sense
disdain
:
'Tis
Nature
only
gives
exclusive
right
To
relish
her
supreme
delight
;
She
,
where
she
pleases
kind
or
coy
,
Who
furnishes
the
scene
,
and
forms
us
to
enjoy
.
VIII
.
Then
higher
bring
the
fair
ingenuous
mind
,
By
her
auspicious
aid
refin'd
;
Lo
!
not
an
hedge-row
hawthorn
blows
,
Or
humble
hare-bell
paints
the
plain
,
Or
valley
winds
,
or
fountain
flows
,
Or
purple
heath
is
ting'd
in
vain
:
For
such
the
rivers
dash
their
foaming
tides
,
The
mountain
swells
,
the
dale
subsides
;
Ev'n
thriftless
furze
detains
their
wandering
sight
,
And
the
rough
barren
rock
grows
pregnant
with
delight
.
IX
.
With
what
suspicious
fearful
care
The
sordid
wretch
secures
his
claim
,
If
haply
some
luxurious
heir
Should
alienate
the
fields
that
wear
his
name
!
What
scruples
lest
some
future
birth
Should
litigate
a
span
of
earth
!
Bonds
,
contracts
,
feoffments
,
names
unmeet
for
prose
,
The
towering
Muse
endures
not
to
disclose
;
Alas
!
her
unrevers'd
decree
,
More
comprehensive
and
more
free
,
Her
lavish
charter
,
Taste
,
appropriates
all
we
see
.
X.
Let
gondolas
their
painted
flags
unfold
,
And
be
the
solemn
day
enroll'd
,
When
,
to
confirm
his
lofty
plea
,
In
nuptial
sort
,
with
bridal
gold
,
The
grave
Venetian
weds
the
sea
:
Each
laughing
Muse
derides
the
vow
;
Ev'n
Adria
scorns
the
mock
embrace
,
To
some
lone
hermit
on
the
mountain's
brow
,
Allotted
,
from
his
natal
hour
,
With
all
her
myrtle
shores
in
dow'r
.
His
breast
to
admiration
prone
Enjoys
the
smile
upon
her
face
,
Enjoys
triumphant
every
grace
,
And
finds
her
more
his
own
.
XI
.
Fatigu'd
with
form's
oppressive
laws
,
When
SOMERSET
avoids
the
Great
;
When
cloy'd
with
merited
applause
,
She
seeks
the
rural
calm
retreat
;
Does
she
not
praise
each
mossy
cell
,
And
feel
the
truth
my
numbers
tell
?
When
deafen'd
by
the
loud
acclaim
,
Which
genius
grac'd
with
rank
obtains
,
Could
she
not
more
delighted
hear
Yon
throstle
chaunt
the
rising
year
?
Could
she
not
spurn
the
wreaths
of
fame
,
To
crop
the
primrose
of
the
plains
?
Does
she
not
sweets
in
each
fair
valley
find
,
Lost
to
the
sons
of
pow'r
,
unknown
to
half
mankind
?
XII
.
Ah
can
she
covet
there
to
see
The
splendid
slaves
,
the
reptile
race
,
That
oil
the
tongue
,
and
bow
the
knee
,
That
slight
her
merit
,
but
adore
her
place
?
Far
happier
,
if
aright
I
deem
,
When
from
gay
throngs
,
and
gilded
spires
,
To
where
the
lonely
halcyons
play
,
Her
philosophick
step
retires
:
While
studious
of
the
moral
theme
,
She
,
to
some
smooth
sequester'd
stream
Likens
the
swain's
inglorious
day
;
Pleas'd
from
the
flowery
margin
to
survey
,
How
cool
,
serene
,
and
clear
the
current
glides
away
.
XIII
.
O
blind
to
truth
,
to
virtue
blind
,
Who
slight
the
sweetly-pensive
mind
!
On
whose
fair
birth
the
Graces
mild
,
And
every
Muse
prophetick
smil'd
.
Not
that
the
poet's
boasted
fire
Should
Fame's
wide-echoing
trumpet
swell
;
Or
,
on
the
musick
of
his
lyre
Each
future
age
with
rapture
dwell
;
The
vaunted
sweet
of
praise
remove
,
Yet
shall
such
bosoms
claim
a
part
In
all
that
glads
the
human
heart
;
Yet
these
the
spirits
,
form'd
to
judge
and
prove
All
nature's
charms
immense
,
and
Heav'n's
unbounded
love
.
XIV
.
And
oh
!
the
transport
,
most
ally'd
to
song
,
In
some
fair
villa's
peaceful
bound
,
To
catch
soft
hints
from
Nature's
tongue
,
And
bid
Arcadia
bloom
around
:
Whether
we
fringe
the
sloping
hill
,
Or
smoothe
below
the
verdant
mead
;
Whether
we
break
the
falling
rill
,
Or
thro'
meandering
mazes
lead
;
Or
in
the
horrid
bramble's
room
Bid
careless
groups
of
roses
bloom
;
Or
let
some
shelter'd
lake
serene
Reflect
flow'rs
,
woods
and
spires
,
and
brighten
all
the
scene
.
XV.
O
sweet
disposal
of
the
rural
hour
!
O
beauties
never
known
to
cloy
!
While
worth
and
genius
haunt
the
favour'd
bow'r
,
And
every
gentle
breast
partakes
the
joy
!
While
Charity
at
eve
surveys
the
swain
,
Enabled
by
these
toils
to
chear
A
train
of
helpless
infants
dear
,
Speed
whistling
home
across
the
plain
;
Sees
vagrant
Luxury
,
her
hand-maid
grown
,
For
half
her
graceless
deeds
attone
,
And
hails
the
bounteous
work
,
and
ranks
it
with
her
own
.
XVI
.
Why
brand
these
pleasures
with
the
name
Of
soft
,
unsocial
toils
,
of
indolence
and
shame
?
Search
but
the
garden
,
or
the
wood
,
Let
yon
admir'd
carnation
own
,
Not
all
was
meant
for
raiment
,
or
for
food
,
Not
all
for
needful
use
alone
;
There
while
the
seed
of
future
blossoms
dwell
,
'Tis
colour'd
for
the
sight
,
perfum'd
to
please
the
smell
.
XVII
.
Why
knows
the
nightingale
to
sing
?
Why
flows
the
pine's
nectareous
juice
?
Why
shines
with
paint
the
linnet's
wing
?
For
sustenance
alone
?
for
use
?
For
preservation
?
Every
sphere
Shall
bid
fair
Pleasure's
rightful
claim
appear
.
And
sure
there
seem
,
of
human
kind
,
Some
born
to
shun
the
solemn
strife
;
Some
for
amusive
tasks
design'd
,
To
soothe
the
certain
ills
of
life
;
Grace
it's
lone
vales
with
many
a
budding
rose
,
New
founts
of
bliss
disclose
,
Call
forth
refreshing
shades
,
and
decorate
repose
.
XVIII
.
From
plains
and
woodlands
;
from
the
view
Of
rural
Nature's
blooming
face
,
Smit
with
the
glare
of
rank
and
place
,
To
courts
the
sons
of
Fancy
flew
;
There
long
had
Art
ordain'd
a
rival
seat
;
There
had
she
lavish'd
all
her
care
To
form
a
scene
more
dazling
fair
,
And
call'd
them
from
their
green
retreat
To
share
her
proud
controul
;
Had
giv'n
the
robe
with
grace
to
flow
,
Had
taught
exotick
gems
to
flow
;
And
emulous
of
nature's
pow'r
,
Mimick'd
the
plume
,
the
leaf
,
the
flow'r
;
Chang'd
the
complexion's
native
hue
,
Moulded
each
rustick
limb
anew
,
And
warp'd
the
very
soul
!
XIX
.
Awhile
her
magick
strikes
the
novel
eye
,
Awhile
the
faery
forms
delight
;
And
now
aloof
we
seem
to
fly
On
purple
pinions
thro'
a
purer
sky
,
Where
all
is
wonderous
,
all
is
bright
:
Now
landed
on
some
spangled
shore
Awhile
each
dazled
maniac
roves
By
saphire
lakes
,
thro'
em'rald
groves
,
Paternal
acres
please
no
more
;
Adieu
the
simple
,
the
sincere
delight
—
Th'
habitual
scene
of
hill
and
dale
,
The
rural
herds
,
the
vernal
gale
,
The
tangled
vetch's
purple
bloom
,
The
fragrance
of
the
bean's
perfume
,
Be
theirs
alone
who
cultivate
the
soil
,
And
drink
the
cup
of
thirst
,
and
eat
the
bread
of
toil
,
XX
.
But
soon
the
pageant
fades
away
!
'Tis
Nature
only
bears
perpetual
sway
.
We
pierce
the
counterfeit
delight
,
Fatigu'd
with
splendour's
irksome
beams
,
Fancy
again
demands
the
sight
Of
native
groves
,
and
wonted
streams
,
Pants
for
the
scenes
that
charm'd
her
youthful
eyes
,
Where
Truth
maintains
her
court
,
and
banishes
disguise
.
XXI
.
Then
hither
oft
ye
senators
retire
,
With
Nature
here
high
converse
hold
;
For
who
like
STAMFORD
her
delights
admire
,
Like
STAMFORD
shall
with
scorn
behold
Th'
unequal
bribes
of
pageantry
and
gold
;
Beneath
the
British
oak's
majestick
shade
,
Shall
see
fair
Truth
,
immortal
maid
,
Friendship
in
artless
guise
array'd
,
Honour
,
and
moral
Beauty
shine
With
more
attractive
charms
,
with
radiance
more
divine
.
XXII
.
Yes
,
here
alone
did
highest
Heav'n
ordain
The
lasting
magazine
of
charms
,
Whatever
wins
,
whatever
warms
,
Whatever
fancy
seeks
to
share
,
The
great
,
the
various
,
and
the
fair
,
For
ever
should
remain
!
XXIII
.
Her
impulse
nothing
may
restrain
—
Or
whence
the
joy
'mid
columns
,
tow'rs
,
'Midst
all
the
city's
artful
trim
,
To
rear
some
breathless
vapid
flow'rs
,
Or
shrubs
fuliginously
grim
:
From
rooms
of
silken
foliage
vain
,
To
trace
the
dun
far
distant
grove
,
Where
smit
with
undissembled
pain
,
The
wood-lark
mourns
her
absent
love
,
Borne
to
the
dusty
town
from
native
air
,
To
mimick
rural
life
,
and
soothe
some
vapour'd
fair
.
XXIV
.
But
how
must
faithless
Art
prevail
,
Should
all
who
taste
our
joy
sincere
,
To
virtue
,
truth
or
science
dear
,
Forego
a
court's
alluring
pale
,
For
dimpled
brook
and
leafy
grove
,
For
that
rich
luxury
of
thought
they
love
!
Ah
no
,
from
these
the
publick
sphere
requires
Example
for
it's
giddy
bands
;
From
these
impartial
Heav'n
demands
To
spread
the
flame
itself
inspires
;
To
sift
Opinion's
mingled
mass
,
Impress
a
nation's
taste
,
and
bid
the
sterling
pass
.
XXV
.
Happy
,
thrice
happy
they
,
Whose
graceful
deeds
have
exemplary
shone
Round
the
gay
precincts
of
a
throne
,
With
mild
effective
beams
!
Who
bands
of
fair
ideas
bring
,
By
solemn
grott
,
or
shady
spring
,
To
join
their
pleasing
dreams
!
Theirs
is
the
rural
bliss
without
alloy
,
They
only
that
deserve
,
enjoy
.
What
tho'
nor
fabled
Dryad
haunt
their
grove
,
Nor
Naiad
near
their
fountains
rove
,
Yet
all
embody'd
to
the
mental
sight
,
A
train
of
smiling
Virtues
bright
Shall
there
the
wise
retreat
allow
,
Shall
twine
triumphant
palms
to
deck
the
wanderer's
brow
.
XXVI
.
And
though
by
faithless
friends
alarm'd
,
Art
have
with
Nature
wag'd
presumptuous
war
;
By
SEYMOUR'S
winning
influence
charm'd
,
In
whom
their
gifts
united
shine
,
No
longer
shall
their
counsels
jar
.
'Tis
hers
to
mediate
the
peace
:
Near
Percy-lodge
,
with
awe-struck
mien
,
The
rebel
seeks
her
lawful
Queen
,
And
havock
and
contention
cease
.
I
see
the
rival
pow'rs
combine
,
And
aid
each
other's
fair
design
;
Nature
exalt
the
mound
where
Art
shall
build
;
Art
shape
the
gay
alcove
,
while
Nature
paints
the
field
.
XXVII
.
Begin
,
ye
songsters
of
the
grove
!
O
warble
forth
your
noblest
lay
;
Where
SOMERSET
vouchsafes
to
rove
Ye
leverets
freely
sport
and
play
.
—
Peace
to
the
strepent
horn
!
Let
no
harsh
dissonance
disturb
the
morn
,
No
sounds
inelegant
and
rude
Her
sacred
solitudes
profane
!
Unless
her
candour
not
exclude
The
lowly
shepherd's
votive
strain
,
Who
tunes
his
reed
amist
his
rural
chear
,
Fearful
,
yet
not
averse
,
that
SOMERSET
should
hear
.