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No more shall tragic stories fill our rhymes Come turn and look at life in softer climes; In Eastern India's realm pursue the route, Where passions burn within, and Suns without. Calcutta, lo! as London o'er the Thames, Lifts her high head above old Hougly's streams: There, Novice, fix your residence, and try To scan the passing scene with curious eye; The motley mass of various life discern. And put in practice quickly what you learn. First, if you mean to gain a due respect, (And what so terrible as cold neglect!) Let eight trim bearers uniformly dress'd Attend your palanquin of modern taste; Fly at a call, and bring you here and there To laugh and chatter—God knows what or where, In vulgar eyes a palanquin has charms. But on the shining sides emblaze your arms, This elegant convenience first procure, Before you thrust your nose without the door. Let a long train, obsequious at a call. Attend in order round your spacious hall; At breakfast seated, let the shining plate, Arrang'd with splendour, indicate your state; For taste superior, gracious Heaven invoke. And learn that fashionable art—to smoke! The breakfast ended, on a couch reclin'd. The grateful hookah will relax the mind; 'Tis then the crouching slaves our orders take. Before they know what we're about to speak: But if some low born creditor should come. Be sure give orders then, you're not at home.