Infpir'd by me with facred art,
He fings, and rules the varied heart;
If Jove's dread anger he rehearse,
We hear the thunder in his verse;
If he describes love turn'd to rage,
The furies riot in his page;
If he fair liberty and law
By ruffian power expiring draw,
The keener paffions then engage
Aright, and fanctify their rage;
If he attempt disastrous love,
We hear those plaints that wound the
Within the kinder paffions glow,
And tears diftill'd from pity flow.
From the bright vifion I descend,
And my deferted theme attend.
Me never did ambition feize,
Strange fever most inflam'd by ease,
The active lunacy of pride,
That courts jilt Fortune for a bride.
This par❜dife-tree, fo fair and high,
I view with no aspiring eye :
Like aspine shake the restless leaves,
And Sodom-fruit our pains deceives,
Whence frequent falls give no furprize,
But fits of Spleen, call'd growing wife.
Greatness in glitt'ring forms display'd
Affects weak eyes much us'd to fhade,
And by its falfly-envy'd scene
Gives felf-debafing fits of Spleen.
We should be pleas'd that things are so,
Who do for nothing fee the fhow,
And, middle-fiz'd, can pafs between
Life's hubbub fafe, because unseen,
› And 'midst the glare of greatness trace
A wat'ry fun-fhine in the face,
And pleasures fled to, to redress
The fad fatigue of idleness.
Contentment, parent of delight,
So much a stranger to our fight,
Say, goddess, in what happy place
Mortals behold thy blooming face;
Thy gracious aufpices impart,
And for thy temple choose my heart.
They, whom thou deigneft to inspire,
Thy science learn, to bound defire;
By happy alchymy of mind
They turn to pleasure all they find;
They both disdain in outward mien
The grave and folemn garb of Spleen,
`And meretricious arts of dress,
To feign a joy, and hide distress;
Unmov'd when the rude tempeft blows;
Without an opiate they repose;
And cover'd by your fhield, defy
The whizzing shafts, that round them flyi
Nor meddling with the gods' affairs,
Concern themselves with distant cares;
But place their bliss in mental rest,
And feast upon the good poffefs'd.
Forc'd by foft violence of pray'r,
The blythsome goddess fooths my care,
I feel the deity inspire,
And thus fhe models my defire.
Two hundred pounds half-yearly paid,
Annuity fecurely made,
A farm some twenty miles from town,
Small, tight, falubrious, and my own;
Two maids, that never faw the town,
A ferving-man not quite a clown,
A boy to help to tread the mow,
And drive, while t'other holds the plough;
A chief of temper form'd to pleafe,
Fit to converfe, and keep the keys;
And better to preserve the peace,
Commiffion'd by the name of niece
With understandings of a fize
To think their mafter very wife.
May heav'n (it's all I wifh for) fend
One genial room to treat a friend,
Where decent cup-board, little plate,
Difplay benevolence, not state.
And may my humble dwelling ftand
Upon fome chofen fpot of land:
A pond before full to the brim,
Where cows may cool, and geefe may fwim,
Behind, a green like velvet neat,
Soft to the eye, and to the feet;
Where od❜rous plants in evening fair
Breathe all around ambrofial air
From Eurus, foe to kitchen-ground,
Fenc'd by a slope with bushes crown'd,
Fit dwelling for the feather'd throng,
Who pay their quit-rents with a fong;
With op'ning views of hill and dale,
Which fenfe and fancy too regale,
Where the half-cirque, which vifion bounds,
Like amphitheatre furrounds:
And woods impervious to the breeze,
Thick phalanx of embodied trees,
From hills through plains in dusk array
Extended far, repel the day.
Here stillness, height, and folemn fhade
Invite, and contemplation aid:
Here nymphs from hollow oaks relate
The dark decrees and will of fate,
And dreams beneath the spreading beech
Infpire, and docile fancy teach,
While foft as breezy breath of wind,
Impulfes ruftle through the mind:
Here Dryads, fcorning Phoebus' ray,
While Pan melodious pipes away,
In meafur'd motions frisk about,
'Till old Silenus puts them out.
There fee the clover, pea, and bean,
Vie in variety of green;
Fresh paftures fpeckled o'er with sheep,
Brown fields their fallow fabbaths keep,
Plump Ceres golden treffes wear,
And poppy-top-knots deck her hair,
|