To John Hartopp, Esq. now Sir John Hartopp, Bart. The difdain, 1700. 1. HARTOPP! I love the foul that dares 'Tread the temptations of his years Beneath his youthful feet: Fleetwood, and all thy heav'nly line, Look thro' the stars and smile divine Upon an heir fo great. Young Hartopp knows this noble theme, 5 The noise, th' amufements, and the frife, IQ Gay phantoms of delufive light, Or a vexatious dream. II. Flesh is the vileft and the least Ingredient of our frame : We're born to live above the beaft 15 Or quit the manly name. Pleasures of fenfe we leave for boys; To Mitio, my friend. FORGIVE me, Mitio, that there fhould be any mortifying lines in the following poems inscribed to you fo foon after your entrance into that ftate which was defigned for the completest happiness on earth; but you will quickly discover that the Muse in the firft poem only represents the shades and dark colours that melancholy throws upon love and the focial life; in the second perhaps the indulges her own bright ideas a little; yet if the accounts are but well balanced at laft, and things fet in a due light, I hope there is no ground for cenfure. Here you will find an attempt made to talk of one of the most important concerns of human nature in verse, and that with a folemnity becoming the argument. I have banished grimace and ridicule, that persons of the most serious character may read without offence. What was written feveral years ago to yourself is now permitted to entertain the world; but you may affume it to yourself as a private entertainment still while you lie concealed behind a feigned name. LIFE's a PART 1. The mourning-piece. s a long tragedy; this globe the stage, Well fix'd and well adorn'd with strong machines, Gay fields, and skies, and feas; the actors many, On ev'ry sailing cloud with fatal purpose, And shoot across the scenes ten thousand arrows 5 Nor twangs the bow, yet fure and deep the wound. ro Dianthe acts her little part, alone, Nor wishes an affociate: lo! fhe glides 15 Single thro' all the ftorm and more fecure; Lefs are her dangers, and her breaft receives The feweft darts. "But O my lov'd Marilla, "My fifter, once my friend, (Dianthe cries) "How much art thou expos'd! thy growing foul "Doubled in wedlock, multiply'd in children, "Stands but the broader mark for all the mifchiefs "That rove promifcuous o'er the mortal stage. "Children! thofe dear young limbs, thofe tend'reft "Of your own flesh, thofe little other felves, [pieces "How they dilate the heart to wide dimenflons, "And foften ev'ry fibre to improve "The mother's fad capacity of pain! "I mourn Fidelio too, tho' Heav'n has chofe "A fav'rite mate for him, of all her fex 20 25 "The pride and flow'r: how blefs'd the lovely pair "Beyond expression, if well-mingled loves "And woes well-mingled could improve our blifs! 30 "Amidst the rugged cares of life behold 35 "The father and the husband, flatt'ring names, "That spread his title and enlarge his share "Of common wretchednefs. He fondly hopes “To multiply his joys, but ev'ry hour "Renews the disappointment and the smart. "There not a wound afflicts the meanest joint "Of his fair partner or her infant-train "(Sweet babes!) but pierces to his inmost foul. "Strange is thy pow'r O Love! What num'rous veins, "And art'ries, and arms, and hands, and eyes, "Are link'd and faften'd to a lover's heart By ftrong but secret strings! With vain attempt "We put the Stoick on, in vain we try 4[ "To break the ties of Nature and of blood; 45 "Thofe hidden threads maintain the dear commu "Inviolably firm; their thrilling motions [nion "Reciprocal give endless sympathy "In all the bitters and the fweets of life. Thus fang the tuneful maid, fearful to try 50 55 Nor put the chains on, dang'rous to try And hard to be diffolv'd; yet rising tears Sat on her eyelids, while her numbers flow'd Eafy; but thy own cares of fofter kind 60 65 Give sharper wounds; they lodge too near the heart, A ftrange uneasy sense, a tempting pain. 70 (For thou art learned now) what anxious thoughts, What kind perplexities, tumultuous rise If but the abfence of a day divide Thee from thy fair beloved! Vainly fmiles The cheerful fun, and night with radiant eyes 75 Tell me what toil, what torment, to fuftain The tedious hours are ages; fancy roves 80 Reflefs in fond inquiry, nor believes Chariffa fafe; Chariffa, in whose life Thy life confifts and in her comfort thine. 85 |