Methought I was now a fine gentleman grown,
And had got, Lord knows how, an estate of my own.
Good-bye to plain Tom, I was rais'd a peg higher;
Some call'd me his worship, and others the squire.
'Twas a place, I remember, exactly like Easton,
A scene for an emperor's fancy to feast on.
There I built a fine house with great cost and great care,
(Your la'ships have form'd many such in the air)
Not of stucco, nor brick, but as good Portland stone
As Kent wou'd desire to be working upon.
The apartments not small, nor monstrously great,
But chiefly for use, and a little for state;
So begilt, and becarv'd, and with ornaments grac'd,
That ev'ry one said, I'd an excellent taste.
Here I liv'd like a king, never hoarded my pelf,
Kept a coach for my sisters, a nag for myself,
With something that's good when our Highclear friends come,
And, spite of 'squire Herbert, a fire in each room.
A canal made for profit as well as for pleasure,
That's about, let me see, two acres in measure;
Both the eye to delight, and the table to crown
With a jack, or a perch, when my uncles come down.
An exceeding great wood, that's been set a great while,
In length near a league, and in breadth near a mile.
There ev'ry dear girl her bright genius displays,
In a thousand fine whimsies a thousand fine ways.
O how charming the walks to my fancy appear!
What a number of temples and grottos are here!
My soul was transported to such an extreme,
That I leap'd up in raptures, — when lo! 'twas a dream;
Then vexing I chid the impertinent day
For driving so sweet a delusion away.
Thus spectres arise, as by nurse-maids we're told,
And hie to the place where they buried their gold:
There hov'ring around until morning remain;
Then sadly return to their torments again.