F Heaven the grateful liberty would give,
That I might chufe my method how to live;
And all thofe hours propitious Fate fhould lend,
In blissful ease and fatisfaction fpend;

Near fome fair town I'd have a private feat,
Built uniform, not little, nor too great:
Better, if on a rising ground it stood;
On this fide fields, on that a neighbouring wood.
It should within no other things contain,
But what are useful, neceffary, plain :
Methinks 'tis naufeous; and I'd ne'er endure
The needlefs pomp of gaudy furniture.
A little garden, grateful to the eye;
And a cool rivulet run murmuring by:
On whofe delicious banks a stately row
Of fhady limes, or fycamores, fhould
grow.
At th' end of which a filent ftudy plac'd,
Should be with all the nobleft authors grac'd:
Horace and Virgil, in whofe mighty lines
Immortal wit, and folid learning, shines;
Sharp Juvenal, and amorous Ovid too,
Who all the turns of love's foft paffion knew:
He that with judgment reads his charming lines,
In which strong art with ftronger nature joins,
Muft grant his fancy does the best excel;
His thoughts fo tender, and exprefs'd fo well:
With all thofe moderns, men of fteady fenfe,
Efteem'd for learning, and for eloquence.
In fome of thefe, as fancy fhould advise,
I'd always take my morning exercise:
For fure no minutes bring us more content,
Than those in pleasing, useful ftudies spent.

I'd have a clear and competent estate,
That I might live genteely, but not great:
As much as I could moderately spend ;
A little more, fometimes t' oblige a friend,
Nor fhould the fons of poverty repine
Too much at fortune, they fhould taste of mine;
And all that objects of true pity were,
Should be reliev'd with what my wants could fpare:
For that our Maker has too largely given,
Should be return'd in gratitude to Heaven.
A frugal plenty fhould my table spread;
With healthy, not luxurious, dishes spread :
Enough to fatisfy, and fomething more,
To feed the ftranger, and the neighbouring poor.
Strong meat indulges vice, and pampering food
Creates difeafes, and inflames the blood.
But what's fufficient to make nature strong,
And the bright lamp of life continue long,
I'd freely take; and, as I did poffefs,
The bounteous Author of my plenty blefs.

I'd have a little vault, but always ftor'd With the best wines each vintage could afford. Wine whets the wit, improves its native force, And gives a pleasant flavour to difcourfe : By making all our spirits debonair, Throws off the lees, the fediment of care. But as the greatest bleffing Heaven lends May be debauch'd, and serve ignoble ends; So, but too oft, the grape's refreshing juice Does many mischievous effects produce. My houfe should no fuch rude disorders know, As from high drinking confequently flow; Nor would I ufe what was fo kindly given, To the dishonour of indulgent Heaven. If any neighbour came, he should be free, Us'd with refpect, and not uneafy be, In my retreat, or to himself or me. What freedom, prudence, and right reafon gave, All men may, with impunity, receive: But the least swerving from their rule's too much; For what's forbidden us, 'tis death to touch.

That life may be more comfortable yet,
And all my joys refin'd, fincere, and great;
I'd choose two friends, whofe company would be
A great advance to my felicity:

Well-born, of humours fuited to my own,
Difcreet, and men as well as books have known;
Brave, generous, witty, and exactly free
From loose behaviour, or formality:
Airy and prudent; merry, but not light;
Quick in difcerning, and in judging right:
Secret they should be, faithful to their truft;
In reafoning cool, ftrong, temperate, and juft;
Obliging, open, without huffing, brave;
Brifk in gay talking, and in fober, grave:
Clofe in difpute, but not tenacious; try'à
By folid reafon, and let that decide:
Not prone to luft, revenge, or envious hate;
Nor bufy medlers with intrigues of state:
Strangers to flander, and fworn foes to spite;
Not quarrelfome, but ftout enough to fight;
Loyal, and pious, friends to Cæfar; true
As dying Martyrs, to their Maker too.
In their fociety I could not mifs
A permanent, fincere, fubftantial blifs.
Would bounteous Heaven once more indulge, l'è
choofe

(For who would fo much fatisfaction lofe,
As witty nymphs, in conversation give)
Near fome obliging modeft fair to live:
For there's that sweetness in a female mind,
Which in a man's we cannot hope to find;

That, by a fecret, but a powerful art,
Winds up the fpring of life, and does impart
Fresh vital heat to the transported heart.

I'd have her reafon all her paffions sway:
Eafy in company, in private gay:
Coy to a fop, to the deferving free;
Still conftant to herself, and juft to me.

A foul fhe fhould have for great actions fit;
Prudence and wisdom to direct her wit:
Courage to look bold danger in the face;
No fear, but only to be proud, or base;
Quick to advise, by an emergence preft,
To give good counfel, or to take the best.
I'd have th' expreffion of her thoughts be fuch,
She might not feem referv'd, nor talk too much :
That fhews a want of judgment, and of sense;
More than enough is but impertinence.
Her conduct regular, her mirth refin'd ;
Civil to ftrangers, to her neighbours kind:
Averse to vanity, revenge, and pride;
In all the methods of deceit untry'd :
So faithful to her friend, and good to all,
No cenfure might upon her actions fall:
Then would ev'n envy be compell'd to fay,
She goes the least of womankind aftray.

To this fair creature I'd fometimes retire;
Her converfation would new joys infpire;
Give life an edge fo keen, no furly care
Would venture to affault my foul, or dare,
Near my retreat, to hide one fecret fnare.
But fo divine, so noble a repaft

I'd feldom, and with moderation, taste:
For higheft cordials all their virtue lofe,
By a too frequent and too bold a ufe;

And what would cheer the fpirits in diftrefs,
Ruins our health, when taken to excess.

I'd be concern'd in no litigious jar;
Belov'd by all, not vainly popular.
Whate'er affiftance I had power to bring,
T'oblige my country, or to serve my king,
Whene'er they call, I'd readily afford

My tongue, my pen, my counsel, or my fword.
Law-fuits I'd thun, with as much ftudious care,
As I would dens where hungry lions are ;
And rather put up injuries, than be

A plague to him, who 'd be a plague to me.
I value quiet at a price too great,
To give for my revenge fo dear a rate:
For what do we by all our buftle gain,
But counterfeit delight for real pain?

If Heaven a date of many years would give,
Thus I'd in pleafure, eafe, and plenty live.
And as I near approach'd the verge of life,
Some kind relation (for I'd have no wife)
Should take upon him all my worldly care,
Whilft I did for a better state prepare.
Then I'd not be with any trouble vex'd,
Nor have the evening of my days perplex'd;
But by a filent and a peaceful death,
Without a figh, refign my aged breath.
And when committed to the duft, I'd have
Few tears, but friendly, dropt into my grave,
Then would my exit fo propitious be,

All men would wish to live and die like me.

LOVE TRIUMPHANT OVER REASON.

T

A VISION.

'HO'gloomy thoughts disturb'd my anxious breaft
All the long night, and drove away my reft;
Juft as the dawning day began to rife,
A grateful flumber clos'd my waking eyes ;
But active fancy to ftrange regions flew,
And brought furprizing objects to my view.

Methought I walk'd in a delightful grove,
The foft retreat of gods, when gods make love.
Each beauteous object my charm'd foul amaz'd,
And I on each with equal wonder gaz'd ;
Nor knew which moft delighted: all was fine:
The noble product of fome Power Divine.
But as I travers'd the obliging shade,
With myrtle, jeffamine, and rofes, made,
I faw a perfon whofe celeftial face
At first declar'd her goddess of the place:
But I difcover'd, when approaching near,
An afpect full of beauty, but fevere,.
Bold and majestic; every awful look
Into my foul a fecret horror ftruck.
Advancing farther on, she made a ftand,
And beckon'd me; I, kneeling, kifs'd her hand:
Then thus began-Bright Deity! (for fo
You are, no mortals fuch perfections know)
I may intrude; but how I was convey'd
To this ftrange place, or by what powerful aid,
I'm wholly ignorant; nor know I more,
Or where I am, or whom I do adore.
Inftruct me then, that I no longer may
In darkness ferve the goddefs I obey.

Youth! fhe reply'd, this place belongs to one,
By whom you'll be, and thousands are undone.
Thefe pleafant walks, and all these shady bowers,
Are in the government of dangerous powers.
Love's the capricious master of this coaft;
This fatal labyrinth, where fools are loft.
I dwell not here amidft these gaudy things,
Whofe fhort enjoyment no true pleasure brings;
But have an empire of a nobler kind:
My regal feat's in the celeftial mind;
Where, with a godlike and a peaceful hand,
I rule, and make thofe happy I command.
For, while I govern, all within's at reft;
No ftormy paffion revels in my breast:
But when my power is defpicable grown,
And rebel appetites ufurp the throne,
The foul no longer quiet thoughts enjoys;
But all is tumult, and eternal noife.

Know, youth! I'm Reason, which you 've oft despis'd;
I am that Reason, which you never priz'd;
And though my arguments fuccefslefs prove,
(For Reason seems impertinence in love)
Yet I'll not fee my charge (for all mankind
Are to my guardianfhip by Heaven affign'd)
Into the grafp of any ruin run,

That I can warn them of, and they may fhun.
Fly, youth, thefe guilty fhades; retreat in time,

Ere your mistake's converted to a crime:
For ignorance no longer can atone,

When once the error and the fault is known.
You thought perhaps, as giddy youth inclines,
Imprudently to value all that shine,
6 [B]2

IA

In thefe retirements freely to poffefs

True joy, and ftrong fubftantial happiness:
But here gay Folly keeps her court, and here,
In crowds, her tributary Fops appear;
Who, blindly lavish of their golden days,
Confume them all in her fallacious ways.
Pert Love with her, by joint commiffion, rules
In this capacious realm of idle fools;
Who, by falfe hearts, and popular deceits,
The careless, fond, unthinking mortal cheats.
"Tis easy to defcend into the snare,
By the pernicious conduct of the fair;
But fafely to return from this abode,
Requires the wit, the prudence of a god:

Though you, who have not tafted that delight,
Which only at a diftance charms your fight,
May, with a little toil, retrieve your heart:
Which loft is fubject to eternal smart.
Bright Delia's beauty, I must needs confefs,
Is truly great; nor would I make it lefs:
That were to wrong her, where the merits most;
But dragons guard the fruit, and rocks the coast.
And who would run, that's moderately wife,
A certain danger, for a doubtful prize?
If you mifcarry, you are loft fo far
(For there's no erring twice in love and war)
You'll ne'er recover, but muft always wear
Those chains you'll find it difficult to bear.
Delia has charms, I own; fuch charms would move
Old age, and frozen impotence to love;
But do not venture, where such danger lies;
Avoid the fight of thofe victorious eyes,
Whofe poisonous rays do to the foul impart
Delicious ruin, and a pleafing smart.
You draw, infenfibly, deftruction near;
And love the danger, which you ought to fear.
If the light pains you labour under now,
Deftroy your eafe, and make your spirits bow;
You'll find them much more grievous to be borne,
When heavier made by an imperious fcorn:
Nor can you hope, fhe will your paffion hear
With fofter notions, or a kinder ear,
Than thofe of other fwains; who always found,
She rather widen'd than clos'd up the wound.
But grant, fhe fhould indulge your flame, and give
Whate'er you'd afk, nay, all you can receive;
The fhort-liv'd pleafure would fo quickly cloy,
Bring fuch a weak, and such a feeble joy,
You'd have but fmall encouragement to boast
The tinfel rapture worth the pains it coft.
Confider, Strephon, foberly of things,
What ftrange inquietudes Love always brings!
The foolish fears, vain hopes, and jealoufies,
Which still attend upon this fond disease:
How you must cringe and bow, fubmit and whine;
Call every feature, every look, divine:
Commend each fentence with an humble fmile;
Though nonfenfe, fwear it is a heavenly style:
Servilely rail at all she disapproves;
And as ignobly flatter all the loves:
Renounce your very sense, and filent fit,
While the puts off impertinence for wit;

Like fetting-dog, new whipp'd for springing game,
You must be made, by due correction, tame.
But if you can endure the naufeous rule
Of woman, do love on, and be a fool.

You know the danger, your own methods ufe;
The good or evil's in your power to choose:
But who'd expect a short and dubious bliss
On the declining of a precipice;

Where if he flips, not fate itself can save
The falling wretch from an untimely grave?

Thou great directress of our minds, faid I,
We fafely on your dictates may rely;
And that which you have now fo kindly preft,
Is true, and, without contradiction, best:
But with a steady sentence to control
The heat and vigour of a youthful foul,
While gay temptations hover in our fight,
And daily bring new objects of delight,
Which on us with furprizing beauty smile,
Is difficult; but is a noble toil.

The best may flip, and the moft cautious fall;
He's more than mortal that ne'er err'd at all.
And though fair Delia has my foul poffeft,
I'll chafe her bright idea from my breaft:
At least, I'll make one effay. If I fail,
And Delia's charms o'er Reafon do prevail,
I may be, fure, from rigid cenfures free,
Love was my foe; and Love's a deity.

Then she rejoin'd; you may fuccefsful prove,
In your attempt to curb impetuous Love:
Then will proud paffion on her rightful lord,
You to yourself, I to my throne reftor'd;
But to confirm your courage, and inspire
Your refolutions with a bolder fire,

Follow me, youth! I'll show you that shall move Your foul to curfe the tyranny of Love.

Then the convey'd me to a diúmal fhade, Which melancholy yew and cyprefs made; Where I beheld an antiquated pile Of rugged building in a narrow ifle ; The water round it gave a naufeous smell, Like vapours fteeming from a fulphurous cell. The ruin'd wall, compos'd of ftinking mud, O'er-grown with hemlock, on fupporters flood; As did the roof, ungrateful to the view: 'Twas both an hospital, and bedlam too. Before the entrance, mouldering bones were spread, Some skeletons entire, fome lately dead; A little rubbish loosely scatter'd o'er Their bodies uninterr'd, lay round the door. No funeral rites to any here were paid, But dead like dogs into the duft convey'd. From hence, by Reafon's conduct, I was brought, Through various turnings to a spacious vault, Where I beheld, and 't was a mournful fight, Vaft crowds of wretches all debarr'd from light, But what a few dim lamps, expiring, had; Which made the profpect more amazing fad. Some wept, fome rav'd, fome mufically mad: Some fwearing loud, and others laughing: Some Were always talking; others always dumb. Here one, a dagger in his breaft, expires, And quenches with his blood his amorous fires: There hangs a fecond; and, not far remov❜d, A third lies poifon'd, who falfe Celia lov'd. All forts of madness, every kind of death, By which unhappy mortals lofe their breath, Were here expos'd before my wondering eyes, The fad effects of female treacheries;

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