Sir GEORGE ETHERIDGE's fecond Letter to the Lord MIDDLETON..

ROM hunting Whores, and haunting Play,
And minding nothing else all Days

And all the Night too, you will fay, ; :
To make grave Legs in formal Fetters,
Converfe with Fools, and write dull Letters §.
To go to Bed 'twixt Eight and Nine,
And fleep away my precious Time,
In such a sneaking idle Place,
Where Vice and Folly hide their Face,
And in a troublesome Disguise,

The Wife feems honeft, Husband wife..
For Pleasure here has the fame Fate:
Which does attend Affairs of State,
The Plague of Ceremony infects,
Even in Love, the fofter Sex;
Who an Effential will neglect,
Rather than lofe the leaft Refpect
In regular Approach we ftorm,
And never vifit but in form;
That is, fending to know before

At what a Clock she'll play the Whore.
The Nymphs are conftant, Gallants private,
One fcarce can guess what 'tis they drive at
This feems to me a scurvy Fashion,
Who have been bred in a free Nation
With Liberty of Speech and Passion..
Yet I cannot forbear to spark it,
And make the beft of a bad Market.

Meeting with one by chance kind-hearted,,
Who no Preliminaries ftarted,
I enter'd beyond Expectation
Into a close Negotiation :
Of which hereafter a Relation.

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Humble to Fortune, not her Slave,
I ftill was pleas'd with what he gave;
And with a firm and cheerful Mind
I fteer my Courfe with ev'ry Wind,
To all the Ports she has defign'd.

On the Death of Mr. OLDHA M,

N the Remains of an old blafted Oak,

Jamindful of himfelf, Menaces leas'd;

He fought not now in Heat the fhade of Trees,
But hunn'd the flowing River's pleafing Bank.
His Pipe and Hook lay featter'd on the Grafs,
Nor feed his Sheep together on the Plain,
Left to themselves they wander'd out at large.
In this lamenting state young Corydon

(His Friend and dear Companion of his Hour)
Finding Menalcas, asks him thus the Caufe.
CORYDON.

Thee have I fought in ev'ry fhady Grove, By purling Streams, and in each private Place Where we have us'd to fit and talk of Love. Why do I find thee leaning on an Oak, By, Lightning blafted, and by Thunder rent? What curled Chance has turn'd thy chearful Mind, And why wilt thou have Woes unknown to me? But I would comfort, and not chide my Friend; Tell me thy Grief, and let me bear a part. MENAL CAS.

T

Young Aftrophell is dead, Dear Aftrophell, He that cou'd tune fo well his charming Pipe; To hear whofe Lays, Nymphs left their cryftalSpring, The Fawns and Dryades forfook the Woods, And hearing, all were ravifh'd-----swifteft Streams With-held their Course to hear the Heav'nly Sound, And murmur'd, when by following Waves preft on;

The following Waves forcing their way to hear,
Oft the fierce Wolf pursuing of the Lamb,
Hungry and wildly certain of his Prey,
Left the Purfuit, rather than lofe the found
Of his alluring Pipe. The harmless Lamb
Forgot his Nature, and forfook his Fear,
Stood by the Wolf, and liften'd to the Sound.
He cou'd command a general Peace, and Nature
and Na
wou'd obey.
This Youth, this Youth is dead! The fame Disease
That carry'd fweet Orinda from the World.
Seiz'd upon Aftrophell.---Oh let these Tears
Be offer'd to the Memory of my Friend,
And let my Speech give way a while to Tears.
CORYDON.

Weep on, Menalcas, for his Fate requires
The Tears of all Mankind; general the Lofs,
And general be the Grief. Except by Fame,
I knew him not; but furely this is he

Who fung learn'd* Colin's and great † Agon's Praise;
Dead ere he liv'd, yet have new Life from him,
Did he not mourn lamented + Bion's Death,
In Verfes equal to what Bion wrote ?

MENAL CAS.

Yes this was he, (oh that I fay he was!)
He that cou'd fing the Shepherds Deeds fo well,
Whether to praise the good he turn'd his Pen,
Or lafh'd th' egregious Follies of the bad,
In both he did excel,----

His happy Genius bad him take the Pen,
And dictated more faft than he cou'd write:
Sometimes becoming Negligence adorn'd
His Verfe, and Nature fhew'd they were her owns
Yet Art he us'd, where Art cou'd useful be,
And fweated not to be correctly dull.

* Spencer. Johnson. ‡ Rachester,

CORYDO N.

*

Had Fate allow'd his Life a longer Thread,
Adding Experience to that wondrous fraught
Of youthful Vigour, how wou'd he have wrote!
Equal to mighty Pan's Immortal Verse;
He that now rules with undifputed sway,
Guide of our Pens, crown'd with eternal Bays.'
MEN ALCAS.

We wish for Life, not thinking of its Cares;
I mourn his Death, the lofs of fuch a Friend:
But for himself he dy'd in the best Hour,
And carry'd with him ev'ry Man's Applause.
Youth meets not with Detraction's blotting Hand,
Nor fuffers ought from Envy's canker'd Mind.
Had he known Age, he wou'd have seen the World
Put on its ugliest, but its trueft Face;

Malice had watch'd the Droppings of his Pen,
And ignorant Youths who wou'd for Criticks pals,
Had thrown their fcornful Jefts upon his Verfe,
And cenfur'd what they did not understand,
Such was not my Dear Aftrophell: He's dead,"
And I hall quickly follow him. What's Death,
But an eternal Sleep without a Dream?
Wrapt in a lafting Darkness, and exempt
From Hope and Fear, and ev'ry idle Paffion.
CORT DO N.

See thy Complaints have mov'd the pitying Skies,
They mourn the Death of Astrophell in Tears,
Thy Sheep, return'd from fraying, round thee gaze,
And wonder at thy Mourning. Drive 'em home,
And tempt thy troubled Mind with eafing Sleep;
To Morrow's chearful Light may give thee Comfort,

* Dryden.

****

CHEVY-CHASE,

By Order of the Bishop of London.

Gour Lives and Safeties all,

OD profper long our Noble King,

A woful Hunting once there did
In Chevy-Chafe befal.

II.

To drive the Deer with Hound and Horn

Earl Piercy took his way;

The Child may rue that is unborn

The Hunting of that Day.

III.

The ftout Earl of Northumberland
A Vow to God did make,
His Pleafure in the Scottish Woods
Three Summers Days to take;

IV.

The chiefeft Harts in Chevy-Chafe

To kill and bear away.

Thefe Tidings to Earl Douglas came,

In Scotland, where he lay.

V.

Who fent Earl Piercy prefent word,
He would prevent his Sport:,

The English Earl, not fearing this,
Did to the Woods refort,

VI.

With Fifteen hundred Bow-men bold,
All chofen Men of Might,

Who knew full well in time of need
To aim their Shafts aright.

VII.

The gallant Grey-hounds fwiftly ran,
To chase the fallow Deer;'
On Monday they began to hunt,
When Day-light did appear,

LUCUS