1
From me who whileom sung the Town
This second Ballad comes:
To let you know we are got down,
From hurry,smoke, & drums:
And every visitor that rowls
In restless Coach from Mall to Paul's
With a fl-la-la-la-la-la.
2
And now were I to paint the seat,
(As well-bred poets use;)
I sho'd embellish our retreat,
By favour of the muse:
Tho' to no villa we pretend,
But a plain farm at the best end
With a fa-la &c
3
Where innocence & quiet reigns,
And no distrust is known;
His nightly safety none maintains,
But ways they do in Town:
Who rising loosen bolt and bar,
We draw the lach and out we are.
With a fa-la &c
4
For jarring sounds in London streets,
With still are passing by;
Where cowcumbers with Sando meets,
And for loud mastry vie:
The driver whistling to his team,
Here wakes us from some rural dream
With a fa-la &c
5
From rising hills thro' distant views;
We see the Sun decline;
Whislt every where the eye persues
The grazeing flocks are kine:
Which home at night the Farmer brings
And not the Post's but sheeps bell rings
With a fa-la &c
6
We silver trouts and Cray-fish eat,
Just taken from the stream;
And never think our meal compleat,
Without frsh curds and cream:
And as we pass by the barn floor,
We choose our supper fromt he door.
With a fa-la &c
7
Beneath our feet the partridge springs,
As to the woods we go;
Where birds scarce stretch their painted wings,
So little fear they shew
But when our outspread hoops they spy
They look when we like them shou'd fly.
Wtih a fa-la &c
8
Thro' verdant circles as we stray,
To which no end we know;
As we o'er hanging boughs survey,
And tufted grass below:
Delight into the fancy falls,
And happy days and verse recalls
With a fa-la &c
9
Oh! why did I these shades forsake,
And shelter of the grave;
The flowring shrub the rustlng brake,
The solitude I love:
Where Emperours have fixt their lot,
And greatly chose to be forgot.
With a fa-la &c
10
Then how can I from hence depart,
Unless my pleasing friend;
Shou'd now her sweet harmonious art,
Until these shades extend:
And like old Orpheus powerfull song,
Draw me and all my woods along*
With a fa-la &c
11
So charm'd like Birnam's they wou'd rise,
And march in goodly row;
But since it might the town surprize,
To see me travel so:
I must from soothing joys like these,
Too soon return in open chaise
With a fa-la &c
12
Mean while accept what I have writ,
To shew this rural scene;
Nor look for sharp satyrick wit,
From off the balmy plain:
The country breeds no throny bays,
But mirth and love and honest praise.
With a fa-la-la-la-la-la
*Spenser imitated.