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第3章 THE TASK.(1)

BOOK I. THE SOFA.

["The history of the following production is briefly this:--A lady, fond of blank verse, demanded a poem of that kind from the author, and gave him the SOFA for a subject. He obeyed, and having much leisure, connected another subject with it; and, pursuing the train of thought to which his situation and turn of mind led him, brought forth, at length, instead of the trifle which he at first intended, a serious affair--a volume.]

I sing the Sofa. I, who lately sang Truth, Hope, and Charity, and touched with awe The solemn chords, and with a trembling hand, Escaped with pain from that advent'rous flight, Now seek repose upon a humbler theme:

The theme though humble, yet august and proud The occasion--for the Fair commands the song.

Time was, when clothing sumptuous or for use, Save their own painted skins, our sires had none.

As yet black breeches were not; satin smooth, Or velvet soft, or plush with shaggy pile:

The hardy chief upon the rugged rock Washed by the sea, or on the gravelly bank Thrown up by wintry torrents roaring loud, Fearless of wrong, reposed his weary strength.

Those barbarous ages past, succeeded next The birthday of invention; weak at first, Dull in design, and clumsy to perform.

Joint-stools were then created; on three legs Upborne they stood. Three legs upholding firm A massy slab, in fashion square or round.

On such a stool immortal Alfred sat, And swayed the sceptre of his infant realms;And such in ancient halls and mansions drear May still be seen, but perforated sore And drilled in holes the solid oak is found, By worms voracious eating through and through.

At length a generation more refined Improved the simple plan, made three legs four, Gave them a twisted form vermicular, And o'er the seat, with plenteous wadding stuffed, Induced a splendid cover green and blue, Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wrought And woven close, or needlework sublime.

There might ye see the peony spread wide, The full-blown rose, the shepherd and his lass, Lapdog and lambkin with black staring eyes, And parrots with twin cherries in their beak.

Now came the cane from India, smooth and bright With Nature's varnish; severed into stripes That interlaced each other, these supplied, Of texture firm, a lattice-work that braced The new machine, and it became a chair.

But restless was the chair; the back erect Distressed the weary loins that felt no ease;The slippery seat betrayed the sliding part That pressed it, and the feet hung dangling down, Anxious in vain to find the distant floor.

These for the rich: the rest, whom fate had placed In modest mediocrity, content With base materials, sat on well-tanned hides Obdurate and unyielding, glassy smooth, With here and there a tuft of crimson yarn, Or scarlet crewel in the cushion fixed:

If cushion might be called, what harder seemed Than the firm oak of which the frame was formed.

No want of timber then was felt or feared In Albion's happy isle. The lumber stood Ponderous, and fixed by its own massy weight.

But elbows still were wanting; these, some say, An alderman of Cripplegate contrived, And some ascribe the invention to a priest Burly and big, and studious of his ease.

But rude at first, and not with easy slope Receding wide, they pressed against the ribs, And bruised the side, and elevated high Taught the raised shoulders to invade the ears.

Long time elapsed or e'er our rugged sires Complained, though incommodiously pent in, And ill at ease behind. The ladies first Gan murmur, as became the softer sex.

Ingenious fancy, never better pleased Than when employed to accommodate the fair, Heard the sweet moan with pity, and devised The soft settee; one elbow at each end, And in the midst an elbow, it received, United yet divided, twain at once.

So sit two kings of Brentford on one throne;And so two citizens who take the air, Close packed and smiling in a chaise and one.

But relaxation of the languid frame By soft recumbency of outstretched limbs, Was bliss reserved for happier days; so slow The growth of what is excellent, so hard To attain perfection in this nether world.

Thus first necessity invented stools, Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs, And luxury the accomplished Sofa last.

The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick, Whom snoring she disturbs. As sweetly he Who quits the coach-box at the midnight hour To sleep within the carriage more secure, His legs depending at the open door.

Sweet sleep enjoys the curate in his desk, The tedious rector drawling o'er his head, And sweet the clerk below; but neither sleep Of lazy nurse, who snores the sick man dead, Nor his who quits the box at midnight hour To slumber in the carriage more secure, Nor sleep enjoyed by curate in his desk, Nor yet the dozings of the clerk are sweet, Compared with the repose the Sofa yields.

Oh, may I live exempted (while I live Guiltless of pampered appetite obscene)

From pangs arthritic that infest the toe Of libertine excess. The Sofa suits The gouty limb, 'tis true; but gouty limb, Though on a Sofa, may I never feel:

For I have loved the rural walk through lanes Of grassy swarth, close cropped by nibbling sheep, And skirted thick with intertexture firm Of thorny boughs: have loved the rural walk O'er hills, through valleys, and by river's brink, E'er since a truant boy I passed my bounds To enjoy a ramble on the banks of Thames.

And still remember, nor without regret Of hours that sorrow since has much endeared, How oft, my slice of pocket store consumed, Still hungering penniless and far from home, I fed on scarlet hips and stony haws, Or blushing crabs, or berries that emboss The bramble, black as jet, or sloes austere.

Hard fare! but such as boyish appetite Disdains not, nor the palate undepraved By culinary arts unsavoury deems.

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