Thomas Humphry Ward, ed. The English Poets. 1880–1918.rnVol. III. The Eighteenth Century: Addison to Blake

William Shenstone (1714–1763)

Much Taste and Small Estate (from The Progress of Taste)

SEE yonder hill, so green, so round,

Its brow with ambient beeches crowned!

’Twould well become thy gentle care

To raise a dome to Venus there:

Pleas’d would the nymphs thy zeal survey;

And Venus, in their arms, repay.

’Twas such a shade, and such a nook

In such a vale, near such a brook,

From such a rocky fragment springing,

That famed Apollo chose, to sing in.

There let an altar wrought with art

Engage thy tuneful patron’s heart,

How charming there to muse and warble

Beneath his bust of breathing marble!

With laurel wreath and mimic lyre

That crown a poet’s vast desire.

Then, near it, scoop the vaulted cell

Where Music’s charming maids may dwell;

Prone to indulge thy tender passion,

And make thee many an assignation.

Deep in the grove’s obscure retreat

Be placed Minerva’s sacred seat;

There let her awful turrets rise

(For Wisdom flies from vulgar eyes:)

There her calm dictates shalt thou hear

Distinctly strike thy listening ear:

And who would shun the pleasing labour

To have Minerva for his neighbour?

*****

But did the Muses haunt his cell?

Or in his dome did Venus dwell?

Did Pallas in his counsels share?

The Delian god reward his prayer?

Or did his zeal engage the fair?

When all the structures shone complete

Not much convenient, wondrous neat;

Adorned with gilding, painting, planting,

And the fair guests alone were wanting.

Ah me! (’twas Damon’s own confession)

Came Poverty and took possession.