his Pipe in Consort with his Fate Sad were the Sounds urg'd forth by deep Despair Mix'd with black Sighs that darken'd all the Air. A while the Swain with shivering Fingers play'd And roul'd his heavy Eyes towards Heaven dismay'd Not that he ask'd the least of Blessings thence Or wish'd to put the Gods to more Expence Enough said he I 'd lived when Sylvia Dy'd With that he threw his hoarse-grown Pipe aside And stamp'd upon the ground and violently cry'd Then griping Anguish rock'd him to and fro Rais'd by that wounded Passion Love in Wo. Ye are unkind ye Powers ye are unkind And with the words his Soul dispers'd to Wind. The Merchant IN vain from Shores remote you strive to bring Your Happiness that must from Virtue spring In vain your floating Territories Ride And beat with Stern assault the adverse Tide What gives the Gaudy India's boasted Soil But a feign'd Recompence Fatigue and Toil Not unprovok'd did Wise Democritus Laugh at a Humor so Ridiculous Sometimes to Heaven ye hasty Prayers make That It would guide your Fortune play your Stake That Nature with her widest Jaws would yawn And drive the Idle Vessel faster on Which yet no sooner gains the scanty Seas Than ye revoke your Prayers the Gods no longer please Less with limp Fanes the Winds then gently move You slack you forward Zeal and flag the Wings of Love Thus varying Prayers you form from various Moods Enough to puzzle sure th' inferior Gods If any such there be that rule the Air And manage all the Nice Transactions there That do the Universal Bellows blow And parcel out the Winds for Humane Use below Such your Attempts and the so Dangerous Road Implies the guidance of some Foot-boy God That with sly Steps can tread the Watry Maze And lead the Swarthy Mariner his Ways That can at pleasure baffle every Storm Or guard the Tim'rous Pinnace from its Harm That can awake the Winds and Seas from sleep And make the drowsie Waves a useful motion keep Presumptuous Men But O some gentler Fate Give me a Calm and call me Blest with That For why should froward Storms or raging Seas Or all the Swarm of Merchants Destinies Disperse my firm Resolves or wreck my Mind Why rest my Hopes on the uncertainty of Wind In the still bottom of a Shady Vale I'dlye Embarqu'd and scorn the Aid of Wind and Sail. For Time with smooth advance will gain the Port Where all the Happy Fortunate resort An Epitaph on Mr. R. Long. BEhold this careless heap interrs Dick Long Fertunes meer Sport and Natures constant Wrong Forâ—s Life was very Short and very Poor And turn'd at last out thro' the World's Back-door No Funeral Torch did flaming Aid afford No drooping Mourner Sigh his dying Word No Females Tears bedew'd his lonesome Hearse For what Affections love an Empty Purse Silent as Night's dark Curtain he withdrew And the Best Friend he had he 's gone unto For Earth at last when every Friend sorsook At his Misfortune kind impression took And mollify'd Her Breast and lodg'd him there And whom no Man caress'd embracing doth interr To Mr. 〈◊〉 in the Country with some other Verses THat you are Happy who can doubt Have you not all the Fields your prey Have you not all the Time of every Day To walk about And yet d' ye want these Lines Perswade me to 't Are not your very Walks more Elegant Do not the charming Birds prevent Or render your Request a Complement Besides the Ladies you have in to boot Yet freely ye blest Walks and Shades peruse The feeble Offering of a Captive Muse Who tho' she scorns restraint And sometimes flies The noisie World t' enjoy your Companies Yet is to unfit Organs join'd And seated in too low a Mind To express the Idea's that your Objects paint On Mr. John Milton To a Friend who flatteringly desir'd me to send him some Verses on a propos'd Subject IF with a Poet's Fate Heaven would but give The Poet's Spirit too by which they live Could feed on Thoughts that voluntary move Harmonious Numbers free from fumes of Love I 'd then no longer lazy Fortune Court Fortune should be my Fool to make me Sport I 'd leave her Service and her Play-things here And in the Muses Livery appear Wing'd with their Plumes if by their Vigor led But Oh the Muses Great Elijah's fled Wrapt in a Chariot drawn by fiery Steeds And none yet worthy in his place succeeds Whence may One Sacred Ordination get His pow'rful Mantle's sought in vain for yet The Holy Vest is with the Prophet flown For him 't was only fit and made for him alone Not Jordan he but Chaos with it smote Hither and thither and went through a Foot Her hidden Chambers open'd to his Eye And brought their Secrets to his Scrutiny Whence his collecting Mind observ'd their use And what their teeming Virtues would produce And as he sung we find it come to pass This World is the Confusion then that was Idea's strait of every Being he wrought And to perfection soon the Vision brought Thus the Fair Train of Stars and Heav'n and Earth In his Harmonious Volume had their Birth What need he then a Successor inspire And further how bestow the Holy Fire When all the Universal Scope he wrote Beyond Privation Gulphs attempting Thought Vpon the Tax on Births and Burials Granted to His Majesty for Carrying on the War against France T IS hence the haughty Gauls receive their Doom Our Graves are Cannon made and every Womb A Mortar is and every Child a Bomb. Long has France felt our Valour now our Wit And tho' Death aims at us 't is them we make him hit Ev'n he himself in vain assaults us now For by his Conquests we more Potent grow Reflecting on the Time of the Queens Death A Dismal Autumn 't was When Ominous Nature stript for thee Her self of every Gaiety The Trees fell Sick and every Flower Dismay'd at the approaching Hour Grew pale and seem'd to say If the Quick Essence of Britannia Retire we must by Consequence decay And Lo the Heavens resent our Case And blurr with Sable Clouds their Face And down their sightless Eyes the Tears distil apace Wisely ye Heavens ye shut your Eyes There 's nought on Earth deserves your sight Our Glory is extinguish'd quite Since to your selves you have snatch'd our only Prize An Epitaph on Mr. T. C. DEath who exerts his Mortal Sov'raignty Over the World being grown concern'd to see Descending Ages tow'rds his Mansions move By the rough Hand of Force and not of Love Took what might most attract our Wish the Wise The Pious and alas a Publick Friend One whom but just to Name were to commend And needless that to inform you Here he Lyes To a Friend in the Countrey HAppy Happy is your Change For the Town 's Tumultuous Noise In the Silent Woods to Range Stor'd with Innocence and Joys Where the Gliding Silver Streams Seem
It never more again might rise Strait grew up in Its place Brooks Fields and Trees And Shepherds piping from their lonely Cottages To a Friend Recommending a Contemplative Life STifle Natures Inclination Bury Lust extinguish Passion Live a Life of Contemplation Free from Cares and void of Fears Scorn to shrink whate're appears Within the space of Threescore Years The World 's but cross to those that love it Ministring Grief but cann't remove it Yet harms not such as live above it Should all Created Things conspire To grant the Sences their desire The Soul would loath what they admire The Soul 's a Thing that 's too Sublime E're to be limitted by Time Then sure to Bury it here 's a Crime Ascend ascend then Noble Spark Unto thy proper Sphere The spacious Heavens are thy Mark And thou a Stranger here The Request YE Stars that in your regular Career Predict the Fate of every Coming Year Deign to bespeak for once my Lot Tell me if you intend to Bless or not My onward Life my Life but Bless I ask no Costly Happiness A meanly Cottage a thin furnish'd Room No Treasures heap'd for Times to come Give me but Bread and Cloaths to eat and wear I 'll wait the slow Production of the Year For Dainties still content whate're appear The Spring the favoury Herb the Summer yields the Pear Autumn th' Apples will themselves descend T'their Graves being Aged and will their Fellow Age befriend Come down to such as cann't to them ascend Some Winter barren count Its Care I Celebrate and Sacrifice the Bird and Hair Substantial Strength they yield delicious Fare Winter 's the Harvest-time for Wood To thaw the Frozen Joints and dress the Food Then drein'd of Vital Sap and Blood Soon fires and spreads a Comfortable heat Emblem of Summer Winter's forc'd retreat Glads the o'respreading Vines that roof the Grot And in their intricated Twines forgot And loose themselves nor know agen Their Basis nor find out their Origen Impenetrably thick no wet gets there Save globous drops that Star-like do appear Small Gems of unfermenting Light Beset the little Horizon at Night Foreboding Day and Darkness does affright With all the horrid Shapes that dwell in It. Malice Revenge and other Furies bent On Ruin or its bord'ring Punishment That in Nights Misty Scene their Passions vent No Midnight Torch there Conflagration makes No Thief by choice of Poverty partakes Or in the close Recesses of the Mind Pursued Riches does expect to find No squeezing Bayliffs interrupt the Day Nor Creditors make hated Signs for Pay To the Sublimer Powers my All I 'd owe And Scorn the small Attacks of Men below To a Miser who bade me Farewel upon my going into the Countrey FAre well and so I will an'if I can Farewel to thee unhappy Man To thee that canst no Benediction give To thee that hast not yet and ne're will 't learn to live Inspir'd with Smoke and made of the same Mire Thou runn'st about the Streets And art the Servant of each one thou meet'st A Servant that can never tire Being acted by the Vulgar Motion Hire Dull Sensless as a Pack-horse or a Cart And moved by the same Principles thou art And not so much imports thy Thoughts and Voice As the grating Axles Noise Thou art by That outdone For It will oft lament and groan And as it can cries out undone Whilst thou dost with thy sluggish Burthen run And art the Block alone Wer 't thou made up of Faculties to think Or Could'st hear any thing but Chink I 'd take thee by the Hand and bring Thee to the gentle Sources of a Spring Where Nature whispers out such mighty Things As should put Business to a stand And baffle all the Notions of Command And blank the Florid Countenance of Kings Which should But I should better use my Breath Thou' rt gone beyond the Power Of any thing but Fate to Cure Nothing can make thee reasonable but Death Thy Nails I see are grown to Misers Claws And to take in the Globe thou yawn'st with monstrous Jaws Yet Friend take Care For Earth once of thy greediness aware 'T is Ten to One but it devours thee first And lays thee to Its better Dust An Enquiry after Wisdom occasion'd by Reading some Verses in Job AH Where is Wisdom Sacred Wisdom found With It does Humane Hearts or does the World abound Its glittering Footsteps every where I find But glittering Tracks are all it leaves behind The Cautions Virtue quits our Stage in haste Not Humane Sight or Thought can fly as fast So that a rumour'd Story 's all we have Whisper'd by Things and Sigh'd out by the Grave That such a Being is but tell not where And every individual says Not here Sure then't's in Heaven whence God-like Virtues come Heaven is Its Native Place and Heaven Its Home In Heaven It is for Lo th' extended Sky Heightens Conjecture up to Certainty What rear'd that glorious Roof that wondrous Height Was it th' Effect of an Vnguided Might Was it not Wisdom modell'd every Form And led from Work to Work th' Almighty Arm Till perfect Worlds from perfect Knowledge grew And the instructed Orbs to their known Uses flew From Soveraign Wisdom Vse and Order came And Wisdom still supports th' Universal Frame Our Wisdom then 's to learn what Wisdom is And to Adore the Thing our Happiness The Eighth Psalm HOW Excellent O Lord my Lord 's thy Name 'Bove Heaven thy Glory spreads thro' Earth thy Fame Babes thou Ordain'st their Folly to confute Whose Souls forbear thy Praise whose Tongues are mute When on th' Heavens thy Fingers did create The Moon and Stars my Thoughts will needs dilate Dejection seizes me and chills me strait For what am I methinks to all that Might A vile and wandering Atome in thy Sight That is amaz'd to see thou dost express A Care preserving such a Love to bless From the same Parent Men and Angels spring The First-born Angels happiest Ministring And in the next Descent the Earthly King Him with a Sovereign Look thou gavest Abroad A wide Dominion held alone of God The fruitful World and every People there Travelling Earth or Sea or open Air His Recreation Food and Subjects were How Excellent O Lord my Lord 's thy Name 'Bove Heaven thy Glory spreads thro' Earth thy Fame On the Concluding of the Peace AT last the Hostile Voice of War has done And the Mild Lyre succeeds the Outrageous Gun Peace once again her wonted State Assumes Gathers flesh Strength and smooths her russled Plumes Over our Isle She spreads with hovering Wings And pacifies the Lyrâ—s o're-heated Strings For too unequal was the Glorious Fight The Heroe's Acts exceed the Poet's Might This their Apollo saw with some disgust Half envying the Triumpher at first Vext that a Mortal God should soar so high And Do above the Talk of Deity Once more from Idas Top he did behold More than Achilles wrought or Homer told
to Mock you as they Run Hiding from the Scorching Beams Of an Over-Thirsty Sun Whisp'ring thro' their Mossy Sluce Philomel Sits on the Brink Smooths her Plumes and Dresses Spruce Sings a Song to buy her Drink Then Ascending on a Bough There she sits and tells her Tale To her Picture that 's below In her Looking-Glass and Ale Every thing Contributes there To please the Taste the Sight the Ear Pleasures do in a Ring appear And with join'd Hands Dance round the Circling Year To a Painter whom after his Removal into B Ch. Yard I had not seen of a great while THen Bury'd be thy Soul and all its Powers If thou canst so Employ The Break and Close of every Day And fill with vain Essays thy Empty Hours Quickly Descending go And be a I imner to the Ghosts below Where All-Confounding Shade Shall marr the Features by thy Pencil made And ridicule th' Nice Exertions of thy Trade To the same and partly on the same Occasion A Meditation on the Platonick Year PLato thou' rt long a coming with thy Year O how I want thy Reverend presence here The World has every sort of Face put on Friendship and Love's mild solaces have gone Long since their destin'd Rounds And now we 'r whirl'd about with Rage and Frowns Thus the Old World is tumbling down amain Till striking on thy Tomb it back rebounds Unwinding Time again And then t will throw me Dear Zelinda back And then once more I shall see Jack If so bowl on thou Globe till then And then for ever Slack Against Gluttony HAil to the Man whose Loaf and good Old Cheese To pay his Nature are sufficient Fees Let Parsons on gross Veal and Bacon Feed Think as a Calf and get a Hoggish breed They by as Licence from themselves may do 't Dissect the Corps and Eat the Flesh to boot To see what Wisdom in their Fabrick lies And what consent of Tastes will thence arise Hence taught the God of Truth and god of Lust To Serve the Last and Complement the First But I those Purer Substances will Chew Whose Alimental Humor 's Calm and few Shall let my Thoughts run ever ev'n and true An Epitaph on Mr. T. F. SHarp Grief on this would fain imprint The Virtues of the Person in 't Fond Passion Will a Tomb-stone hear Or take th' Impression of a Tear Th' Attempt forbear How would his Praises Crowded stand Inserted by thy trembling Hand On this short Page Canst thou Inscribe what every Mouth His Charity has Fed From fault'ring Antients to the lisping Youth Could utter o're the Dead Besides what the vast Publick might have said Then bate thy Rage Fame shall rehearse Him to the coming Age Only write thou upon this Fatal Door His Name and who goes in will hear of more A Letter to Mr. R. C. in the Countrey DEar Sir Till now my Thoughts your Course pursu'd Trac'd o're your Steps and found your Progress Good O're th' extended Plains and grassy Meads On whose Rich Banks the flowing Rivers feeds Thro' every shady Lane and woody Hill Across each peaceful Vale and o're each murmuring Rill Every Delight the Birds in busie Song Of gratulating Meeter did prolong Thus slid my Thoughts When Lo presented strait From a recover'd Mounts prospâ—ctive height In bluest distance Verulam whom Fame Ev'n in this private Letter bids me name Thither with cautious awe and pace I drew Modest my Queries there and grave my View Where aged Grandeur in Its Ruins lye And Bacer smouldring Tomb whose Self too cannot die Hail Sacred Twine of Fate the Town now he Is gone grown craz'd with Sick Mortality Will shorâ—ly by a passionate Coment Quit her old Formâ— to Build his Monument Wisely if for her self she would secure A Name might longer than her Stones endure But vain if so She think t'ingross his Worth Nor She nor the wide Circuit of the Earth It Heaven alone can hold that gave him Birth Much She already owes her happy Fate That when among the Bless'd his Soul was sat His Body gave to Her as One for That With Benediction then I Nam'd his Fate And Reverence due perform'd renew'd my Gate No tedious Subburb intercepts the Road But Nature's suddain Hand bestows abroad Her best Affections ' mongst the happy Swains And dress with Golden Locks the Neighb'ring Plains The Rural Dames beneath the Hedges sate And all the Bounties on the Soil repeat How It no Niggard was nor in Arrears But Pleasure in Ten Thousand shapes it bears Thus they of Nature and indulgent Pan And fir'd with Rapture on my Fancy ran But Oh! the Curst Disturber of my Ease Vext that Its greatest Opposite should please Vext that Its Child for so it call'd my Thought Should be with those Intrinsick Blessings caught Business o'retook me traversing your Downs Seiz'd on my Thoughts and sporting Fancy wounds Plunder'd my Hopes and spares me only this Now I 'm Its Pris'ner barely Time to Wish Say then your Self for Oh! I long to know Are you in Health and Happy Where And how To Celia who whilst her Lover was Kissing of her chanc'd to 〈◊〉 DEar Madam your presumptuous A Envying the Beauty of your Face Attempts like that in Humane Speech To bid your Lover kiss your Breech But when in vain It try'd to prate In words like yours Articulate It spent Its Breath in Pish and Hum And would not say so much as Come The Native Language of a Janus B-m. To a Sorry Apothecary who pretended to Criticize on my Friend 's Excellent Sermon THou Dull Son of a S t-house dost thou think that a fit House Or thou fit to Commence A Profession of Sence No thou low Animal That from Excrements crawl 'T was not Nature's Intent Thou should st quit that Fat Scent To lend a Tongue or an Ear In a Rational Sphere Then thou Worm of the Privy Get thee home and in 't live ye Thence thy Pipe may allure A Clapt Beau for a Cure Or some Wenches Compassion To squat a Broad A-se on The Hole of the Seat And the drift of thy Life is compleat On Mr. P n the Quaker 's Marrying a Young Wife WED and so Old Well done Will. P n Esquire Thou shall 't have Children if thou dost desire Desire thou dost or else thou would'st not Marry Things standing thus how can thy Hopes miscarry On the Heavy Tax on Paper THE Tax on Bumfodder may chance To cause a want of It in France For sure that Monarch can't but think We 'll beat him till we make him stink Yet tho' he flies he 'll finely fit us When his Back 's turn'd upon 's besh-t us For after all unhappy we who 'll Celebrate our Victory The Poet dar'n't advance a Thought Tho' Actious throng and should be wrote He won't be Damn'd for the State 's Fault The Historian will his Memory trust With what he has not Tools to adjust But the frail Bag I fear will burst And the poor