XVI.

French truth, Dutch prowess, British policy,
Hibernian learning, Scotch civility,

Spaniard' dispatch, Danes' wit, are mainly seen in thee.

XVII.

The great man's gratitude to his best friend,

Kings' promises, whores' vows, towards thee they bend, Flow swiftly into thee, and in thee ever end.

A SON G.

IN IMITATION OF SIR JOHN EATON.

I.

Too late, alas! I must confess,

You need not arts to move me; Such charms by nature you possess, 'Twere madness not to love ye.

Then

II.

spare a heart

you may surprise,
And give my tongue the glory
To boast, though my unfaithful eyes

Betray a tender story.

POMFRET.

JOHN POMFRET was the son of the rector of Luton, in Bedfordshire, where he was born in 1677. After receiving a classical education, he was sent to Queen's College, Cambridge, where he continued till he took a master's degree; and then entering into orders, was presented to the living of Malden, in Bedfordshire.

About this period, he appears to have been reproached with fanaticism, though unjustly; and not long after, having published his celebrated " Choice," the most popular of his poems, he was accused of libertinism, by a malicious interpretation of the following lines, as if he preferred concubinage to marriage:

And as I near approach the verge of life,
Some kind relation (for I'd have no wife)
Should take upon him all my worldly care,
While I did for a better world prepare.

The malignity of his enemies was easily refuted, for at this time he was married; but before he could satisfy the affected scruples of Compton Bishop of London, to whom he had applied for institution to a living of considerable value, he was seized with the small-pox, to wich he fell a victim in 1713, in the thirty-sixth year of his age.

It is often the fate of the best men to be most traduced. Vice finds numerous associates and defenders; while virtue stands unaided and alone. Pomfret has left the strongest indications of a pious, and well-regulated mind. He may possibly want vigour of thought

and energy of expression, but his versification is sufficiently smooth for common readers, and the populalarity of his subjects, render him the delight of those who are only guided by their feelings, without critically entering into the merits or defects of composition. To adopt the language, of Johnson, "he who pleases many, must have some species of merit." Had he lived longer, he might have accomplished more.

It has been observed, that there is perhaps no composition in our language that has been oftener perused than his Choice, as it exhibits a system of life adapted to common notions, and equal to common expectations,— such a state as affords plenty and tranquillity, without exclusion of intellectual pleasures.

123

ΤΟ

HIS FRIEND INCLINED TO MARRY.

I WOULD not have you, Strephon, choose a mate,
From too exalted, or too mean a state;
For in both these we may expect to find
A creeping spirit, or a haughty mind.
Who moves within the middle region, shares
The least disquiets, and the smallest cares.
Let her extraction with true lustre shine ;
If something brighter, not too bright for thine:
Her education liberal, not great;

Neither inferior nor above her state.

Let her have wit; but let that wit be free
From affectation, pride, or pedantry :

For the effect of woman's wit is such,
Too little is as dangerous as too much.
But chiefly let her humour close with thine ;
Unless where your's does to a fault incline;
The least disparity in this destroys,

Like sulphurous blasts, the very buds of joys.
Her person amiable, straight, and free
From natural, or chance deformity.
Let not her years exceed, if equal thine;
For women past their vigour, soon decline:
Her fortune competent; and, if thy sight
Can reach so far, take care 'tis gather'd right.
If thine's enough, then her's may be the less:
Do not aspire to riches in excess.

For that which makes our lives delightful prove,
Is a genteel sufficiency and love.

If Heaven the grateful liberty would give,
That I might choose my method how to live;
And all those hours propitious Fate should lend,
In blissful ease and satisfaction spend;

Near some 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 neighbouring wood.
It should within no other things contain,
But what are useful, necessary, plain :
Methinks 'tis nauseous, and I'd ne'er endure
The needless pomp of gaudy furniture.
A little garden, grateful to the eye;
And a cool rivulet run murmuring by:
On whose delicious banks a stately row
Of shady limes, or sycamores should grow.
At th' end of which a silent study plac'd,
Should be with all the noblest authors grac'd:
Horace and Virgil, in whose mighty lines
Immortal wit, and solid learning, shines;
Sharp Juvenal, and amorous Ovid too,

Who all the turns of love's soft passion knew:
He that with judgment reads his charming lines,
In which strong art with stronger nature joins,
Must grant his fancy does the best excel;
His thoughts so tender, and express'd so well :
With all those moderns, men of steady sense,
Esteem'd for learning, and for eloquence.
In some of these, as fancy should advise,
I'd always take my morning exercise:
For sure no minutes bring us more content,
Than those in pleasing, useful studies spent.
I'd have a clear and competent estate,
That I might live genteelly, but not great:
As much as I could moderately spend;
A little more, sometimes t' oblige a friend.
Nor should the sons of poverty repine

Too much at fortune, they should taste of mine ;
And all that objects of true pity were,

Should be reliev'd with what my wants could spare;
For that our Maker has too largely given,
Should be return'd in gratitude to Heaven.
A frugal plenty should my table spread;
With healthy, not luxurious, dishes spread;
Enough to satisfy, and something more,

To feed the stranger, and the neighbouring poor.