Page:The Village - Crabbe (1783).djvu/9

 They boast their peasants' pipes, but peasants now Resign their pipes and plod behind the plough; And few amid the rural tribe have time To number syllables and play with rhyme; Save honest Author:Stephen Duck, what son of verse could share The poet's rapture and the peasant's care? Or the great labours of the field degrade With the new peril of a poorer trade?

From one chief cause these idle praises spring, That, themes so easy, few forbear to sing; They ask no thought, require no deep design, But swell the song and liquefy the line; The gentle lover takes the rural strain, A nymph his mistress and himself a swain; With no sad scenes he clouds his tuneful prayer, But all, to look like her, is painted fair. Rh