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 arife?

(A model to excel in every part

Judicious Jones, or great Palladio's art)

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

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 ftrong body, and as firm a foul :
The praise is yours to finish every part
With all th' embellishments of taste and art.
Some fee in canker'd heaps their riches roll'd,
Your bounty gives new luftre to your gold.
new
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 fpeaks his thought:
With all the chafte feverity of fense,

Truth, judgment, wit, and manly eloquence.
So in his youth great Cato was rever'd,
By Pompey courted, and by Cæfar 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 last.

Uncom

Uncommon worth is ftill 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 prefent hour;
Break from the serious thought, and laugh away
In Pimpern walls one idle easy day.

You'll find your rhyming kinsman well in case,
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.

HEALTH from the bard who loves the rural sport,

To the more noble bard that haunts the court:

In every other point of life we chime,

Like two foft lines when coupled into rhyme.
I praise a spacious villa to the sky,

You a close garret full five ftories high;
I revel here in nature's varied fweets,
You in the nobler fcents of London ftreets.
I left the court, and here at ease reclia'd,
Am happier than the king who staid behind :
Twelve ftifling difhes 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 ?
Where could he better anfwer nature's end?

Here

Here from the fea the melting breezes rife,
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 pafs the filent night!
Does not the variegated marble yield
To the gay colours of the flowery field ?
Can the New-River's artificial ftreams,
Or the thick waters of the troubled Thames,
In many a winding rufty pipe convey'd,
Or dash'd and broken down a deep cascade,
With our clear filver ftreams in fweetnefs vie,
That in eternal rills run bubbling by;

In dimples o'er the polifh'd pebbles pafs,
Glide o'er the fands, or glitter through the grafs?
And yet in town the country prospects please,
Where ftately colonades are flank'd with trees:
On a whole country looks the mafter 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 fart at laft whofe puzzled fight
Miftakes in life falfe 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 ;

As

As he, who rifes when his head turns round,
Muft tumble twice as heavy to the ground.
Then love not grandeur, 'tis a splendid curse ;
The more the love, the harder the divorce.
We live far happier by thefe gurgling fprings,
Than ftatefmen, 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 ftrives in vain
To quit his master and the curb again.
So from the fear of want most wretches fly,
But lofe their nobleft wealth, their liberty;
To their imperious paffions they fubmit,
Who mount, ride, fpur, but never draw the bit.
'Tis with your fortune, Spence, as with your fhoe,
A large may wrench, a fmall one wring your toe.
Then bear your fortune in the golden mean,
Not every man is born to be a dean.

I'll bear your jeers, if ever I am known
To feek two cures, when scarce I merit one.
Riches, 'tis true, some service may afford,
But oftner play the tyrant o'er their lord.
Money I fcorn, but keep a little still.
To pay my doctor's, or my lawyer's bill.
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.

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 sweet 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 majefty the moon

With milder glories mounts her filver throne;
Amidst ten thousand orbs with splendour crown'd,
That pour their tributary beams around;

Through the long level'd tube our strengthen'd fight
Shall mark distinct the spangles of the night;
From world to world fhall dart the boundless eye,
And stretch from star to star, 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 shall fee th' unfolding race,

Stretch'd out in bulk, within the polifh'd glafs;

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