To Mr. GARRICK, from Mount Edgecombe

Leave, Garrick, the rich landscape, proudly gay, Docks, forts, and navies bright'ning all the bay. To my plain roof repair, primeval seat! Yet there no wonders your quick eye can meet; Save, should you deem it wonderful, to find Ambition cur'd, and an unpassion'd mind. A statesman without pow'r, and without gall, Hating no courtiers, happier than them all. Bow'd to no yoke, nor crouching for applause, Vot'ry alone to freedom, and the laws. Herds, flocks, and smiling Ceres deck our plain, And interspers'd, an heart-enliv'ning train Of sportive children, frolick o'er the green: Mean time, pure love looks on, and consecrates the scene. Come then, immortal spirit of the stage, Great nature's proxy, glass of every age, Come, taste the simple life of patriarchs old, Who, rich in rural peace, ne'er thought of pomp or gold.