ornaments of his house he is silent; and he appears to have reserved all the minuter touches of his pencil for the library, the chapel, and the banqueting-room of Timon. "Le savoir de notre siècle," says Rousseau," tend beaucoup plus à détruire qu'à édifier. On censure d'un ton de maître; pour proposer, il en faut prendre un autre.” It is the design of this Epistle to illustrate the virtue of True Taste; and to show how little she requires to secure, not only the comforts, but even the elegancies of life. True Taste is an excellent Economist. She confines her choice to few objects, and delights in producing great effects by small means: while False Taste is for ever sighing after the new and the rare; and reminds us, in her works, of the Scholar of Apelles, who, not being able to paint his Helen beautiful, determined to make her fine. An Invitation-The Approach to a Villa described-Its Situation— Its few Apartments-Furnished with Casts from the Antique, &c. -The Dining-Room-The Library-A Cold-bath-A Winter-walk -A Summer-walk-The Invitation renewed-Conclusion. WHEN, with a REAUMUR's skill, thy curious mind Its subtle web-work, or its venomed sting; me, to claim a few unvalued hours, Point out the green lane rough with fern and flowers; And the white front thro' mingling elms revealed. To simple comforts and domestic rites, F And, lo, majestic as thy manly song, Still must my partial pencil love to dwell She bids old Nature mar the plan no more; Ah, still as soon the young Aurora plays, Tho' moons and flambeaux trail their broadest blaze; As soon the sky-lark pours his matin-song, Tho' Evening lingers at the Masque so long. There let her strike with momentary ray, Here no state-chambers in long line unfold, Bright with broad mirrors, rough with fretted gold; Yet modest ornament, with use combined, Attracts the eye to exercise the mind. Small change of scene, small space his home requires, Who leads a life of satisfied desires. What tho' no marble breathes, no canvas glows, From every point a ray of genius flows! Be mine to bless the more mechanic skill, Here from the mould to conscious being start Here chosen gems, imprest on sulphur, shine, And here the faithful graver dares to trace Soon as the morning-dream my pillow flies, But could thine erring friend so long forget. (Sweet source of pensive joy and fond regret) That here its warmest hues the pencil flings, Lo! here the lost restores, the absent brings; |