Shame, like a beaten földier, leaves the place,
But beauty's blushes ftill are in my face.
Forgive this fond confeffion which I make,
And then fome pity on my fufferings take.
What though 'midst seas my father's empire lies;
Though my great grandfire thunder from the fkies;
What though my father's fire in beams drest gay
Drives round the burning chariot of the day;
Their honour all in me to Love's a flave,

Then, though thou wilt not me, their honour fave.
Jove's famous island, Crete, in dower I 'll bring,
And there fhall my Hippolytus be king :

For Venus' fake then hear and grant my prayer,
So may'st thou never love a fcornful fair;

In fields fo may Diana grace thee still,
And every wood afford thee game to kill ;
So may the Mountain Gods and Satyrs all
Be kind, fo may the boar before thee fall;
So
may the Water-nymphs in heat of day,
Though thou their fex defpife, thy thirst allay.
Millions of tears to thefe my prayers I join,
Which as thou read'ft with those dear eyes of thine,
Think that thou fee'ft the streams that flow from mine.

EPISTLE

MY

E PIST LE

TO MR. DUK E.*

Y much-lov'd friend, when thou art from my eyes, How do I loath the day, and light defpife! Night, kinder night, 's the much more welcome guest, For though it bring finall cafe, it hides at least ; Or if e'er flumbers and my eyes agree,

'Tis when they're crown'd with pleafing dreams of thee. Last night methought (heaven make the next as kind!) Free as first innocence, and unconfin'd

As our first parents in their Eden were,
Ere yet condemn'd to eat their bread with care;
We two together wander'd through a grove,
'Twas green beneath us, and all shade above,
Mild as our friendship, fpringing as our love;
Hundreds of chearful birds fill'd every tree,
And fung their joyful fongs of liberty;

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While through the glad fome choir well pleas'd we walk'd,
And of our prefent valued state thus talk'd:
How happy are we in this sweet retreat?
Thus humbly bleft, who 'd labour to be great ?
Who for preferments at a court would wait,
Where every gudgeon's nibbling at the bait ?
What fish of fense would on that shallow lie,
Amongst the little starving wriggling fry,
That throng and crowd each other for a taste
Of the deceitful, painted, poison'd paste ;

* See the Anfwer, in " Duke's Poems."

When

When the wide river he behind him fees,

Where he may launch to liberty and ease?
No cares or business here disturb our hours,
While, underneath these shady peaceful bowers,
In cool delight and innocence we stray,

And midft a thousand pleasures waste the day;
Sometimes upon a river's bank we lie,
Where skimming fwallows o'er the furface fly,
Juft as the fun, declining with his beams,
Kiffes and gently warms the gliding streams;
Amidft whofe current rifing fishes play,
And roll in wanton liberty away.

Perhaps hard by there grows a little bush,
On which the linnet, nightingale, and thrush,
Nightly their folemn orgies meeting keep,
And fing their vefpers ere they go to fleep:
There we two lie, between us may be 's fpread
Some books, few understand, though many read.
Sometimes we Virgil's facred leaves turn o'er,

Still wondering, and still finding caufe for more.
How Juno's rage did good Æneas vex,
Then how he had revenge upon her fex
In Dido's state, whom bravely he enjoy'd,
And quitted her as bravely too when cloy'd;
He knew the fatal danger of her charms,
And fcorn'd to melt his virtue in her arms.
Next Nifus and Euryalus we admire,
Their gentle friendship, and their martial fire;

We praise their valour, 'caufe yet match'd by none,

And love their friendship, so much like our own.

But when to give our minds a feast indeed,
Horace, best known and lov'd by thee, we read,
Who can our transports, or our longings tell,
To taste of pleasures, prais'd by him fo well?
With thoughts of love and wine by him we 're fir'd,
Two things in fweet retirement much defir'd:
A generous bottle and a lovesome she,
Are th' only joys in nature next to thee:
To which retiring quietly at night,
If (as that only can) to add delight,
When to our little cottage we repair,

We find a friend or two, we'd wish for there,
Dear Beverley, kind as parting lovers tears,
Adderly, honeft as the fword he wears,
Wilfon, profeffing friendship yet a friend,
Or Short, beyond what numbers can commend,
Finch, full of kindness, generous as his blood,
Watchful to do, to modeft merit, good;
Who have forfook the vile tumultuous town,
And for a tafte of life to us come down;
With eager arms, how clofely we embrace !
What joys in every heart, and every face!
The moderate table 's quickly cover'd o'er,
With choiceft meats at least, though not with store :
Of bottles next fucceeds a goodly train,

Full of what chears the heart, and fires the brain :
Each waited on by a bright virgin glafs,

Clean, found, and fhining like its drinker's lafs.
Then down we fit, while every genius tries
T'improve, till he deferves his facrifice :

No

No faucy hour prefumes to stint delight,

We laugh, love, drink, and when that's done 'tis night.
Well warm'd and pleas'd, as we think fit we 'll part,
Each takes th' obedient treasure of his heart,

And leads her willing to his filent bed,
Where no vexatious cares come near his head,
But every sense with perfect pleasure 's fed ;
Till in full joy diffolv'd, each falls afleep
With twining limbs, that still love's posture keep;
At dawn of morning to renew delight,
So quiet craving Love, till the next night :
Then we the drowsy cells of fleep forsake,
And to our books our earliest visit make;
Or else our thoughts to their attendance call,
And there, methinks, Fancy fits queen of all;
While the poor under-faculties refort,
And to her fickle majefty make court;
The understanding first comes plainly clad,
But ufefully; no entrance to be had.
Next comes the will, that bully of the mind,
Follies wait on him in a troop behind;
He meets reception from the antic queen,
Who thinks her majesty 's most honour'd, when
Attended by thofe fine-dreft gentlemen.
Reason, the honeft counsellor, this knows,
And into court with refolute virtue goes;
Lets Fancy fee her loofe irregular sway,
Then how the flattering follies fneak away!
This image, when it came, too fiercely fhook
My brain, which its foft quiet ftraight forfook;

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