Builds in his copfe a favourite bench, And a third butcher's bill, and brewing, For children fresh expences yet, Why did I fell my college life And din'd untax'd, untroubled, under "The pourtrait of our pious founder! "When impofitions were fupply'd "To light my pipe-or footh my pride"No cares were then for forward peas "A yearly-longing wife to please : "My thoughts no christ'ning dinner croft, "No children cry'd for butter'd toast ; "And ev'ry night I went to bed, "Without a Modus in my head!" Oh! trifling head, and fickle heart! Chagrin'd at whatfoe'er thou art; A dupe A dupe to follies yet untry'd, And fick of pleafures, fcarce enjoy'd! XXXXX The FIRES I D E. By Dr. COTTON. I. EAR Chloe, while the bufy crowd, In Folly's maze advance; Tho' fingularity and pride Be call'd our choice, we'll step afide, Nor join the giddy dance, From the II. gay world we'll oft retire To our own family and fire, Where love our hours employs ; To spoil our heart-felt joys. III. If III. If folid happiness we prize, And they are fools who roam : The world has nothing to bestow, IV.' Of reft was Noah's dove bereft, When with impatient wing fhe left That fafe retreat, the ark; Giving her vain excurfion o'er, V. Tho' fools fpurn Hymen's gentle pow'rs, That marriage, rightly understood, A paradife below. VI. Our babes fhall richest comforts bring, Whence pleasures ever rise : We'll form their minds with ftudious care, And train them for the skies. VII. While می 1 VII. While they our wifeft hours engage, They'll grow in virtue ev'ry day, And recompenfe our cares. VIII. No borrow'd joys! they're all our own, We look with pity on the great, IX. Our portion is not large indeed, In this the art of living lies, And make that little do. X. We'll therefore relish with content Nor lose the prefent hour. ΧΙ. Το XI. To be refign'd, when ills betide, And pleas'd with favours giv❜nt; Whofe fragrance smells to Heav'n. We'll ask ao long protracted treat, Nor grudge our fons with envious eyes, XIII. Thus hand in hand thro' life we'll go, With cautious fteps we'll tread'; And mingle with the dead. While Confcience, like a faithful friend, Shall thro' the gloomy vale attend, And cheer our dying breath; Shall, when all other comforts cease, Like a kind angel whisper peace, And smooth the bed of death. |