P. Who, at this rate of talking, can be free? But loose to all the interefts of the world: And while that world turns round, entire and whole, In every turn of fortune ftill the fame, He fees the darts of envy glance afide; But when in Hemfkirk's pictures you delight, The facred prize of learning, worth, and wit: Befides, Befides, high living, fir, muft wear you out You hunt, drink, fleep, or (idler ftill) you rhyme; P. Tom, fetch a cane, a whip, a club, a stone,--S. For what? P. A sword, a pistol, or a gun : I'll fhoot the dog. S. Lord! who would be a wit? He's in a mad, or in a rhyming fit. P. Fly, fly, you rascal, for your spade and fork; For once I'll fet your lazy bones to work: Fly, or I'll fend you back, without a groat, To the bleak mountains where you firft were caught. ODE TO JOHN PITT, ESQ. Advising him to build a banquetting-houfe on a hill that overlooks the fea. FR ROM this tall promontory's brow And fee extended wide below Th' horizon all your own. With growing piles the vales are crown'd, There the vast sky and sea profound O bid, my friend, a structure rife, Then you, like olus, on high, And hear the whirlwinds roar. You, with a fmile, their rage defpife, Thus may you view, with proud delight, All nature in a storm. Majeftic, awful fcene! when, hurl'd On furges, furges rife, And all the heaving watery world The feas and thunder roar by turne, But But lo! the furious tempefts cease, The mighty rage fubfides; Spread wide abroad, the glaffy plain,, Reflects the glorious fun again, Th' horizon glows from fide to fide, Your eyes the profpect now command, Fly like a thought from land to land, Thus, while above the clouds we fit, País in amufements, wine, or wit, Sometimes, with pity, or difdain, Down on the poor, the proud, the vain, In yonder world below. We fee, from this exalted feat, As little as his mind. See See there-amidft the crowds our view But those so throng'd, and these so few, Yet, through this cloud of human kind, The Pitts, the Yorks, the Seckers find, Ο ODE TO JOHN PITT, Esq. On the fame fubject. 'ER curious models as you rove The vales with piles to crown, And great Palladio's plans improve With nobler of your own; O bid a ftructure o'er the floods From this high mountain rife, Where we may fit enthron'd like gods, And revel in the fkies. Th' afcending breeze, at each repast, Give a new brightness to the tafte, Or thefe low pleasures we may quit For banquets more refin'd, The luxury of the mind. Plato, 1 |