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Here with my books or friend I spend the day,
But how at Kingston pass your hours away?!
Say, fhall we fee fome plan with ravish'd eyes,
Some future pile in miniature arise ?
(A model to excel in every part

Judicious Jones, or great Palladio's art)

Or fome new bill, that, when the house is met,

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Shall claim their thanks, and pay the nation's debt ? !
Or have you study'd in the filent wood

The facred duties of the wife and good?
Nature, who form'd you, nobly crown'd the whole
With a strong body, and as firm a foul:
The praife is yours to finish every part
With all th' embellishments of tafte and art.
Some fee in canker'd heaps their riches roll'd,
Your bounty gives new luftre to your gold.
Could your dead father hope a greater blifs,
Or your furviving parent more than this?
Than fuch a fon--a lover of the laws,
And ever true to honour's glorious cause :
Who fcorns all parties, though by parties fought :
Who greatly thinks, and truly speaks his thought:
With all the chafte feverity of sense,

Truth, judgment, wit, and manly eloquence.
So in his youth great Cato was rever'd,
By Pompey courted, and by Cæsar fear'd :
Both he difdain'd alike with godlike pride,
For Rome and Liberty he liv'd-and dy'd.
In each perfection as you rife fo fast,
Well may you think each day may be your laft.

Uncom

Uncommon worth is still 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;

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Break from the serious thought, and laugh away · Vol
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.

EPISTLE to Mr. SPENCE.

In Imitation of HORACE, Epift. X. Book I.

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HEALTH from the bard who loves the rural sport,

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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,

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You a close garret full five stories high;
I revel here in nature's varied fweets,
You in the nobler fcents of London streets.
I left the court, and here at ease reclin'd,
Am happier than the king who staid behind :
Twelve ftifling dishes I could scarce 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?

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Where could he better answer nature's end?

Here

Here from the fea the melting breezes rife, "m
Unbind the fnow, and warm the wintry skies :
Here gentle gales the dog-star's heat allay,
And foftly breathing cool the fultry day."

How free from cares, from dangers and affright,
In pleafing dreams I pass the filent night!
Does not the variegated marble yield
To the gay colours of the flowery field?
Can the New-River's artificial streams,
Or the thick waters of the troubled Thames,
In many a winding rusty pipe convey'd,
Or dash'd and broken down a deep cascade,
With our clear silver streams in sweetness vie,
That in eternal rills run bubbling by ;

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In dimples o'er the polish'd pebbles pafs,
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 the triumphs over art;
The hand-maid now may prejudice our taste,
But the fair mistress will prevail at last.

That man must smart at last whose puzzled fight
Mistakes in life false colours for the right;

As the poor dupe is fure his lofs to rue,
Who takes a Pinchbeck guinea for a true.

The wretch, whofe frantic pride kind fortune crowns, Grows twice as abject when the goddess frowns

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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 fplendid curfe;
The more the love, the harder the divorce.
We live far happier by these gurgling fprings,
Than statesmen, courtiers, counsellors, or kings.
The ftag expell'd the courfer from the plain ;
What can he do?he begs the aid of man;
He takes the bit and proudly bears away
His new ally, he fights and wins the day :
But, ruin'd by fuccefs, he strives in vain
To quit his master and the curb again.
So from the fear of want moft wretches fly,
But lofe their nobleft wealth, their libertygo
To their imperious paffions they submit,

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Who mount, ride, fpur, but never draw the bit. he an
'Tis with your fortune, Spence, as with your fhoe, mil
A large may wrench, a fmall one wring your toe, T
Then bear your fortune in the golden mean, ÁPL
Not every man is born to be a dean.

I'll bear your jeers, if ever I am known ''

To feek two cures, when fcarce I merit one.
Riches, 'tis true, fome service may afford,
But oftner play the tyrant o'er their lord.
Money I fcorn, but keep a little ftill,

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To pay my doctor's, or my lawyer's bill. li
From Encombe's foft romantic fcenes I write,
Deep funk in eafe, in pleasure and delight
Yet, though her gen'rous lord himself is here,
'Twould be one pleasure more, could you appear.

1

INVITATION to a FRIEND at COURT,

IF you can leave for books the crowded court,

And generous Bourdeaux for a glass of Port,
To these fweet folitudes without delay
Break from the world's impertinence away.
Soon as the fun the face of nature gilds,
For health and pleasure 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 thousand orbs with splendour crown'd,
their tributary beams around;
Through the long level'd tube our strengthen'd fight
Shall mark diftin&t the fpangles of the night;

That pour

From world to world fhall dart the boundless eye,
And ftretch from star 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.

Aftonish'd we fhall fee th' unfolding race,

Stretch'd out in bulk, within the polish'd glass ;

Through whofe small convex a new world we spy,
Ne'er feen before, but by a Seraph's eye!

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