EPISTLE

M

то

Mr.

DUKE.

Y much lov'd Friend, when thou art from my Eye
How do I loath the Day, and Light defp ife.s
Night, kinder Night's the much more welcome
Gueft,

For tho' it bring small Ease, it hides at least;
Or if e'er Slumbers and my Eyes agree,

'Tis when they're crown'd with pleasing Dreams of thee. Laft Night methought (Heav'n make the next as kind) Free as first Innocence, and unconfin'd

As our first Parents in their Eden were,

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E'er yet condemn'd to eat their Bread with Care;
We two together wander'd through a Grove,
'Twas green beneath us, and all Shade above,
Mild as our Friendship, fpringing as our Love;
Hundreds of chearful Birds fill'd every Tree,
And fung their joyful Songs of Liberty;
While thro' the gladfome Choir well-pleas'd we walk'd,
And of our present valu'd State thus talk'd:
How happy are we in this sweet Retreat?
Thus humbly bleft, who'd labour to be great?
Who for Preferments at a Court would wait,
Where every Gudgeon's nibbling at the Bait?
What Fish of Senfe would on that Shallow lie,
Amongst the little ftarving wriggling Frie,

That

That throng and crowd each other for a Tafte
Of the deceitful, painted, poifon'd' Paste ;
When the wide River he behind him fees,
Where he may launch to Liberty and Ease-?
No Cares or Bufinefs here difturb our Hours,
While underneath thefe fhady, peaceful Bowers,
In cool Delight and Innocence we stray,
And midst a thousand Pleasures waste the Day;
-Sometimes upon a River's Bank we lye,
Where skimming Swallows o'er the furface fly;
Juft as the Sun declining, with his Beams,
Kiffes, and gently warms the gliding Streams ;
Amidit whofe Current rifing Fishes play,
And rowl in wanton Liberty away.
Perhaps, hard by there grows a little Bush,
On which the Linnet, Nightingale and Thrush,
Nightly their folemn Orgyes meeting keep,
And fing their Vefpers ere they go to fleep:
There we two lye, between us may be's fpread
Some Book, few understand, tho’ many read.
Sometimes we Virgil's facred Leaves turn o'er,
Still wond'ring, and ftill finding cause for more.
How Juno's Rage did good Æneas vex,
Then how he had Revenge upon her Sex
In Dido's State, whom bravely he enjoy'd,
And quitted her as bravely too when cloy'd;
He knew the fatal Danger of her Charms,
And fcorn'd to melt his Virtue in her Arms.
Next Nifus and Eurialus we admire,

Their gentle Friendship, and their martial Fire;
We praise their Valour, 'caufe yet matcht by none,
And love their Friendship, so much like our own.
But when to give our Minds a Feast indeed,
Horace, best known and lov'd by thee, we read,
Who can our Tranfports, or our Longings tell,
To taste of Pleasures, prais'd by him fo well?

With thoughts of Love, and Wine, by him we're fir'd, .
Two things in fweet Retirement much defirid,ba:
A generous Bottle and a lovefome She,

Are th' only Joys in Nature next to Thee +
To which retiring quietly at Night,
If (as that only can) to add Delight,
When to our little Cottage we repair,
We find a Friend or two we wish for there,
Dear B-ly, kind as parting Lovers Tears,
Adderly, honeft as the Sword he wears,
Wilfon, profeffing Friendship, yet a Friend,
Or-Short, beyond what Numbers can commend,
Finch, full of Kindnefs, gen'rous as his Blood,
Watchful to do to modeft Merit good;

Who have forfook the wild tumultuous Town,
And for a Taste of Life to us come down,
With eager Arms how closely then w'embrace,
What Joy's in every Heart, and every Face!
The mod'rate Table's quickly cover'd o'er
With choiceft Meats at leaft, tho' not with Store:
Of Bottles next fucceeds a goodly Train,
Full of what chears the Heart, and fires the Brain.
Each waited on by a bright virgin Glass,
Clean, found and shining like its Drinker's Lafs.
Then down we fit, while every Genius tries,
T'improve, till he deferves his Sacrifice.

No faucy Hour prefumes to ftint delight,

We laugh, love, drink, and when that's done 'tis Night:
Well warm'd and pleas'd, as we think fit we part,
Each takes the obedient Treasure of his Heart,
And leads her willing to his filent Bed,

Where no vexatious Cares come near his Head,
But every Sense with perfect Pleafure's fed;
'Till in full Joy diffolv'd each falls afleep,

With twining Limbs, that still Love's posture keep,
At dawn of Morning to renew delight;i++)
So quiet craving Love 'till the next Night;

The

Then we the drowsy Cells of Sleep forfake,
And to our Books our earliest Visit make;
Or else our Thoughts to their Attendance call,
And there methinks, Fancy fits Queen of all ;
While the poor under Faculties resort,
And to her fickly Majefty make Court;
The Understanding firft comes plainly clad,
But usefully; no Ent'rance to be had.
Next comes the Will, that Bully of the Mind,
Follies wait on him in a Troop behind;

He meets Reception from the antic Queen,
Who thinks her Majefty's most honour'd when
Attended by those fine-dreft Gentlemen.
Reason, the honest Counsellor this knows,
And into Court with res lute Virtue
goes;
Lets Fancy fee her loose irregular Sway!
Then how the flattering Follies Sneak away!
This Image when it came, too fiercely shook
My Brain, which it foft Quiet ftraight forfook;
When waking as I caft my Eyes around,
Nothing but old loath'd Vanities I found;
No Grove, no Freedom, and what's worfe to me,
No Friend; for I have none compar'd with thee.
Soon then my Thoughts with their old Tyrant Care.
Were feiz'd; which to divert I fram'd this Pray'r.
Gods! Life's your Gift, then feafon't with fuch Fate,
That what ye meant a Bleffing prove no Weight.
Let me to the remotest Part be whirl'd,

Of this your Play-thing made in hafte, the World;
But grant me Quiet, Liberty and Peace,

By Day what's needful, and at Night soft Eafe;
The Friend I truft in, and the She I love,
Then fix me; and if e'er I wish remove,
Make me as great (that's wretched) as you can,
Set me in Power, the woful'ft State of Man;
To be by Fools mif-led, to Knaves a Prey:
But make Life what I ask, or take't away.