Uncommon worth is ftill with fate at ftrife,
Still inconfiftent with a length of life.

The future time is ever in your power,
Then 'tis clear gain to feize the present hour ;
Break from the serious thought, and laugh away
In Pimpern walls one idle easy day.

You'll find your rhyming kinfman well in cafe,
For ever fix'd to the delicious place.

Tho' not like L- with corpulence o'ergrown,
For he has twenty cures, and I but one.

In Imitation of HORACE, Epift. X. Book I.
EALTH from the bard who loves the rural fport,

HE

In

To the more noble bard that haunts the court: every other point of life we chime,

Like two foft lines when coupled into rhyme.
I praise a spacious villa to the sky,

You a close garret full five ftories high;
I revel here in nature's varied fweets,
You in the nobler fcents of London ftreets.
I left the court, and here at ease reclin❜d,
Am happier than the king who staid behind :
Twelve ftifling dishes I could fcarce live o'er,
At home I dine with luxury on four.
Where would a man of judgment chuse a seat,
But in a wholfome, rural, foft retreat?
Where hills adorn the mansion they defend ?
Where could he better anfwer nature's end?

Here

1

Here from the fea the melting breezes rife,
Unbind the fnow, and warm the wintry skies :
Here gentle gales the dog-ftar's heat allay,
And foftly breathing cool the fultry day.
How free from cares, from dangers and affright,
In pleafing dreams I pafs the filent night!
Does not the variegated marble yield
To the gay colours of the flowery field?
Can the New-River's artificial ftreams,
Or the thick waters of the troubled Thames,
In many a winding rufty pipe convey'd,
Or dash'd and broken down a deep cascade,
With our clear filver ftreams in sweetness vie,
That in eternal rills run bubbling by ;

In dimples o'er the polish'd pebbles pass,
Glide o'er the fands, or glitter through the grass?
And yet in town the country prospects please,
Where stately colonades are flank'd with trees;
On a whole country looks the master down
With pride, where scarce five acres are his own.
Yet nature, though repell'd, maintains her part,
And in her turn fhe triumphs over art;
The hand-maid now may prejudice our taste,
But the fair mistress will prevail at last.

That man myft smart at laft whose puzzled fight.
Miftakes in life falfe colours for the right;
As the poor dupe is fure his lofs to rue, th
Who takes a Pinchbeck guinea for a true.

The wretch, whose frantic pride kind fortune crowns,
Grows twice as abject when the goddess frowns ;d?
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As he, who rifes when his head turns round,
Muft tumble twice as heavy to the ground,
Then love not grandeur, 'tis a splendid curfe;
The more the love, the harder the divorce.
We live far happier by thefe gurgling Springs,
Than ftatesmen, courtiers, counsellors, or kings,
The tag expell'd the courfer from the plaint id
What can he do?he begs the aid of man;
He takes the b bit and proudly bears away had
His new ally; he fights and wins the day
But, ruin'd by fuccefs, he ftrives in vain
To quit his master and the curb again.
and mans i d
So from the fear of want most wretches fly,,AY
But lose their nobleft wealth, their liberty mi sch
To their imperious paffions they fubmit, to rabien 12 W
Who mount, ride, fpur, but never draw, the bit. t... A
'Tis with your fortune, Spence, as with your fhoe,"
A large may wrench, a small one wring your toe.
Then bear your fortune in the golden mean,
Not every man is born to be a dean, juw
I'll bear your jeers, if ever I am known art d
To feek two cures, when fcarce I merit one.gð + P
Riches, 'tis true, some service may afford,
But oftner play the tyrant o'er their lord, 113
Money I fcorn, but keep a little fill, 10 via to
To pay my doctor's, or my lawyer's bill.

bin & my i

From Encombe's foft romantic fcenes I write, bu
Deep funk in cafe, in pleasure and delight; w dro ti
Yet, though her gen'rous! lord himself is here,
'Twould be one pleasure more, could you appear.

INVITATION to a FRIEND at COURT.

IF you can leave for books the crowded court,
And generous Bourdeaux for a glass of Port,
To thefe fweet folitudes without delay
Break from the world's impertinence away.

Soon as the fun the face of nature gilds,
For health and pleafure will we range the fields;
O'er her gay fcenes and opening beauties run,
While all the vaft creation is our own.
But when his golden globe with faded light
Yields to the folemn empire of the night;
And in her fober majesty the moon

With milder glories mounts her filver throne;
Amidst ten thoufand orbs with fplendour crown'd,
That pour their tributary beams around;

Through the long level'd tube our strengthen'd fight
Shall mark diftin&t the spangles of the night;
From world to world shall dart the boundless eye,
And ftretch from ftar to ftar, from sky to sky.
The buzzing infect families appear,

When funs unbind the rigour of the year;

Quick glance the myriads round the evening bower,
Hofts of a day, or nations of an hour.

Aftonifh'd we fhall fee th' unfolding race,

Stretch'd out in bulk, within the polish'd glass;
Through whofe finall convex a new world we spy,
Ne'er feen before, but by a Seraph's eye!

14

So long in darkness fhut from human kind
Lay half God's wonders, to a point confin'd!
But in one peopled drop we now furvey
In pride of power fome little monster play ;
O'er tribes invifible he reigns alone,
And ftruts a tyrant of a world his own.

Now will we ftudy Homer's awful page,

Now warm our fouls with Pindar's noble rage:
To English lays fhall Flaccus' lyre be ftrung,
And lofty Virgil speak the British tongue.'
Immortal Virgil! at thy facred name

I tremble now, and now I pant for fame;
With eager hopes this moment I aspire
To catch or emulate thy glorious fire;
The next pursue the rash attempt no more,
But drop the quill, bow, wonder, and adore ;
By thy ftrong genius overcome and aw'd!
That fire from heaven! that spirit of a God!
Pleas'd and transported with thy name I tend
Beyond my theme, forgetful of my friend;
And from my first defign by rapture led,
Neglect the living poet for the dead.

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