Abroad the Labour, and at home the Noife,
(Man's double Sufferings for domeftick Joys)
The Curfe of Jealoufy; Expence, and Strife;
Divorce, the public Brand of fhameful Life;
The Rival's Sword; the Qualm that takes the
Fair;

Difdain for Paffion, Paffion in Despair

These, and a thousand, yet unnam'd, we find; Ah fear the thoufand, yet unnam❜d behind!

Thus on Parnaffus tuneful Hefiod fung, The Mountain echo'd, and the Valley rung, The facred Groves a fix'd Attention fhow, The chrystal Helicon forbore to flow, The Sky grew bright, and (if his Verse be true) The Mufes came to give the Laurel too. But what avail'd the verdant Prize of Wit, If Love fwore Vengeance for the Tales he writ? Ye Fair offended, hear your Friend relate What heavy Judgment prov'd the Writers Fate, Tho' when it happen'd, no Relation clears, 'Tis thought in five, or five and twenty Years.

Where, dark and filent, with a twisted Shade The neighb'ring Woods a native Arbour made, There oft a tender Pair for am'rous Play Retiring, toy'd the ravish'd Hours away ;. A Locrian Youth, the gentle Troilus he, A fair Milefian, kind Evanthe fhe: But fwelling Nature in a fatal Hour Betray'd the Secrets of the conscious Bow'r ;

The

The direDifgrace her Brothers count their own, And track her Steps, to make its Author known. It chanc'd one Evening, ('twas the Lover's

Day)

Conceal'd in Brakes the jealous Kindred lay; When Hefiod wand'ring, mus'd along the Plain, And fix'd his Seat where Love had fix'd the Scene:

A ftrong Sufpicion ftrait poffeft their Mind, (For Poets ever were a gentle Kind.) But when Evanthe near the Paffage stood, Flung back a doubtful Look,and fhot the Wood, "Now take (at once they cry) thy due Re"ward,"

And urg'd with erring Rage, affault the Bard. HisCorps the Sea receiv'd. The Dolphins bore ('Twas all the Gods would do) the Corps to Shore.

Methinks I view the Dead with pitying Eyes, And see the Dreams of antient Wisdom rife; I fee the Mufes round the Body cry, But hear a Cupid loudly laughing by; He wheels his Arrow with infulting Hand, And thus infcribes the Moral on the Sand. "Here Hefiod lies: Ye future Bards beware "How far your Moral Tales incense the Fair: “Unlov'd, unloving, 'twas his Fate to bleed; "Without his Quiver Cupid caus'd the Deed: "He judg'd this Turn of Malice juftly due, "And Hefiod dy'd for Joys he never knew.”

The

I

F Heav'n the grateful Liberty would give,

That I might choose myMethod how to live; And all thofe Hours propitiousFate should lend, In blissful Eafe and Satisfaction spend ;

Near fome fair Town I'd have a private Seat, Built uniform; not little, nor too great : Better, if on a rising Ground it stood; On this Side Fields, on that a neighb'ringWood. It should within no other Things contain, But what are useful, neceffary, plain : Methinks 'tis naufeous, and I'd ne'er endure The needless Pomp of gaudy Furniture. A little Garden, grateful to the Eye; And a cool Rivulet run murm'ring by: On whofe delicious Banks a stately Row Of fhady Limes, or Sycamores, fhould grow. At th' End of which a filent Study 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 am'rous Ovid too, Who all the Turns of Love's foft Paffion knew: He that with Judgment reads his charmingLines, In which strong Art with stronger Nature joins,

i

Muft

Muft grant his Fancy does the best excel;
His Thoughts fo tender, and express'd fo well:
With all thofe Moderns, Men of steady Sense,
Efteem'd for Learning, and for Eloquence.
In fome of these, as Fancy fhould advise,
I'd always take my Morning Exercise :
For fure no Minutes bring us more Content,
Than those in pleafing, useful Studies 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 should the Sons of Poverty repine
'Too much at Fortune, they should tafte 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 giv'n,
Should be return'd in Gratitude to Heav'n..
A frugal Plenty should my Table spread;
With healthy, not luxurious, Dishes fed:
Enough to fatisfy, and fomething more,
To feed the Stranger, and the neighb'ring Poor..
Strong Meat indulges Vice, and pamp'ring Food
Creates Diseases, 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 cou'd afford.
Wine whets the Wit, improves its native Force,
And gives a pleasant Flavour to Discourse :
By making all our Spirits debonnair,

Throws off the Lees, the Sediment of Care.
But as the greatest Blessing 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 House should no such rude Disorders know,
As from high Drinking consequently flow;
Nor wou'd I ufe what was fo kindly giv❜n,
To the Dishonour of indulgent Heav'n.
If any Neighbour came, he fhould be free,
Us'd with Respect, and not uneafy be

In

my Retreat, or to himself or me.

What Freedom, Prudence, and right Reason, give,

All Men may, with Impunity, receive: But the leaft fwerving 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 chufe two Friends, whofe Company wou'd be A great Advance to my Felicity:

Well born, of Humours suited to my own, Difcreet, and Men, as well as Books, have

known: