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Celia Leaving & Town.....60 q Death of her Husband. 63

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of the foregoing Poem Answer to Sylvia in imitation

Doroiny Davitte be by a fac

Some feek the Honours of th' Olympick Plain,

Guiding their fiery Steeds with artful Rein,

Thro' Clouds of Duft, the wifht-for Prize to gain:

Victorious Laurels noble Mortals raile,
Till a great Hero grows a God in Praife.
A tim'rous Wretch, if Roman Votes decree

To raife his Fortune, dares not truft the Sea:

till

Your home-bred Clowns, whofe whole Delight's to
Paternal Lands, or fpacious Barns to fill,

Wou'd not, for all the Wealth the World affords,
Once plow the Main, and leave their darling Hoards.
The fearful Merchant, if ftern Eurus blows,
Commends his Country-Seat and fafe Repose:
But yet untaught to bear the Poor-Man's Pain,
Refits his Ships, and puts to Sea again.. {

The Drunkard's Care is how to spend the Day, And wash with bright Champaigne his Cares away; Now ftrech'd at Eafe near fome refreshing Shade, Now on the River's Head fupinely laid..

The Brave in Arms delight, and Trumpet's Sound, Whose fhriller Notes thro' echoing Plains rebound; Spurr'd