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(Excerpt)
LAVED by vast depths that swell on either side | |
| Where Chesapeake intrudes his midway tide, | |
| Gay Maryland attracts the admiring eye, | |
| A fertile region with a temperate sky. | |
| In years elapsed, her heroes of renown | 5 |
| From British Anna named one favorite town: | |
| But, lost her commerce, though she guards their laws, | |
| Proud Baltimore that envied commerce draws. | |
| Few are the years since there, at random placed, | |
| Some wretched huts her quiet port disgraced; | 10 |
| Safe from all winds, and covered from the bay, | |
| There, at his ease, the thoughtless native lay. | |
| Now, rich and great, no more a slave to sloth, | |
| She claims importance from her towering growth,— | |
| High in renown, her streets and domes arranged, | 15 |
| A group of cabins to a city changed. | |
| Though rich at home, to foreign lands they stray, | |
| For foreign trappings trade their wealth away. | |
| Politest manners through their towns prevail, | |
| And pleasure revels, though her funds should fail; | 20 |
| In each gay dome soft music charms its lord, | |
| Where female beauty strikes the trembling chord; | |
| On the fine air with nicest touches dwells, | |
| While from the tongue the according ditty swells: | |
| Proud to be seen, ’t is theirs to place delight | 25 |
| In dances measured by the winter’s night, | |
| The evening feast, that wine and mirth prolong, | |
| The lamp of splendor, and the midnight song. * * * * * | |
| In those, whom choice or different fortunes place | |
| On rural scenes, a different mind we trace; | 30 |
| There solitude, that still to dulness tends, | |
| To rustic forms no sprightly action lends; | |
| Heeds not the garb, mopes o’er the evening fire; | |
| And bids the maiden from the man retire. | |
| On winding floods the lofty mansion stands, | 35 |
| That casts a mournful view o’er neighboring lands; | |
| There the sad master strays amidst his grounds, | |
| Directs his negroes, or reviews his hounds; | |
| Then home returning plies his pasteboard play, | |
| Or dreams o’er wine, that hardly makes him gay: | 40 |
| If some chance guest arrive in weary plight, | |
| He more than bids him welcome for the night; | |
| Kind to profusion, spares no pains to please, | |
| Gives him the product of his fields and trees; | |
| On his rich board shines plenty from her source, | 45 |
| The meanest dish of all—his own discourse. | |
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