You'll plead perhaps to my requeft
To be admitted as a guest,
Your hearing's bad-but why fuch fears?
I speak to eyes, and not to ears;
And for that reafon, wifely took
The form you see me in, a book.
Attack'd, by flow devouring moths,
By rage of barb'rous Huns and Goths:
By Bentley's notes, my deadlieft foes,
By Creech's rhimes and Dunfter's profe;
I found my boafted wit and fire
In their rude hands almost expire :
Yet ftill they but in vain affail'd,
For had their violence prevail'd,
And in a blast destroy'd my fame,
They wou'd have partly miss'd their aim;
Since all my spirit in thy page
Defies the Vandals of this age.
'Tis yours to fave these small remains From future pedants muddy brains, And fix my long-uncertain fate,
You best know how,- ---Which way ·?
VERSES written in a GARDEN.
EE how that pair of billing doves
With open murmurs own their loves i
And heedless of cenforious eyes,
Pursue their unpolluted joys:
No fears of future want molest
The downy quiet of their neft;
No int'reft join'd the happy pair,
Securely bleft in Nature's care,
While her dear dictates they pursue :
For conftancy is nature too.
Can all the doctrine of our schools,
Our maxims, our religious rules,
Can learning to our lives enfure
Virtue fo bright, or bliss so pure?
The great Creator's happy ends,
Virtue and pleasure ever blends :
In vain the church and court have try’d
Th' united effence to divide;
Alike they find their wild mistake,
The pedant priest, and giddy rake.
S it to me, this fad lamenting strain ?
Are heaven's choiceft gifts bestow'd in vain ?
A plenteous fortune, and a beauteous bride,
Your love rewarded, gratify'd your pride:
Yet leaving her 'tis me that you pursue
Without one fingle charm, but being new.
How vile is man! how I detest their ways
Of artful falfhood, and defigning praise !
Tastelefs, an easy happiness you flight,
Ruin your joy, and mischief your delight.
Why should poor pug (the mimic of your kind)
Wear a rough chain, and be to box confin'd?
Some cup, perhaps, he breaks, or tears a fan,
While roves unpunish'd the destroyer, man.
Not bound by vows, and unreftrain'd by shame,
In fport you break the heart, and rend the fame.
Not that your art can be fuccefsful here,
Th' already plunder'd need no robber fear :
Nor fighs, nor charms, nor flatteries can move,
Too well fecur'd against a second love.
Once, and but once, that devil charm'd
To reafon deaf, to observation blind;
I idly hop'd (what cannot love persuade!)
My fondness equal'd, and my love repay'd;
Slow to diftruft, and willing to believe,
Long hufh'd my doubts, and did myfelf deceive:
But, oh! too foon this tale would ever last;
Sleep, fleep, my wrongs, and let me think 'em past.
For you, who mourn with counterfeited grief,
And ask fo boldly like a begging thief,
May foon fome other nymph inflict the pain,
You know fo well with cruel art to feign.
Tho' long you sported have with Cupid's dart,
You may fee eyes, and you may feel a heart.
So the brifk wits, who ftop the evening coach,
Laugh at the fear that follows their approach;
With idle mirth, and haughty scorn despise
The paffenger's pale cheek, and ftaring eyes:
But feiz'd by Juftice, find a fright no jeft,
And all the terror doubled in their breast.
In Anfwer to a LADY who advised
RETIREMENT.
OU little know the heart that
I view this various fcene with equal eyes:
In crowded courts I find myself alone,
And
pay my worship to a nobler throne,
Long fince the value of this world I know,
Pity the madness, and despise the fhow.
Well as I can my tedious part I bear,
And wait for my difmiffion without fear.
Seldom I mark mankind's detefted ways,
Not hearing cenfure, nor affecting praife;
And, unconcern'd, my future ftate I trust
To that fole Being, merciful and just.
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