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But all subsists by elemental strife;
9. ODE ON SOLITUDE.
A few paternal acres bound;
In his own ground.
Whose flocks supply him with attire ;
In winter, fire.
Hours, days, and years, slide soft away.
Quiet by day,
Together mix'd : sweet recreation :
Thus unlamented let me die;
Tell where I lie.
1. Words are like leaves, and where they most abound,
Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found. 2. In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold,
Alike fantastic, if too new or old.
CXXVIII. DANIEL DEFOE. Wherever God erects a house of prayer, The devil always builds a chapel there; And 'twill be found upon examination, The latter has the largest congregation,
CXXIX. BISHOP BERKELEY.
The Muse, disgusted at an age and clime
Barren of every glorious theme,
Producing subjects worthy fame.
And virgin earth, such scenes ensue,
And fancied beauties by the true :
Where nature guides and virtue rules,
The pedantry of courts and schools :
The rise of empire and of arts,
The wisest heads and noblest hearts.
Such as she bred when fresh and young,
By future poets shall be sung.
The four first acts already past,
Sips the warm fragrance of the greenhouse bowers,
CXXXI. WILLIAM BROOME.
POVERTY AND POETRY.
could call the timber down,
Yet still the doating rhymer dreams,
CXXXII. LADY M. W. MONTAGU.
See how that pair of billing doves
Can all the doctrine of our schools,
CXXXIII. CHARLES COFFEY.
Of all the trades from east to west,
The cobbler's, past contending,
Which every day is mending.
The soles of all his neighbours,
But to his last still labours
CXXXIV. CHARLES MACKLIN.
1. MORALS. My scheme, though mocked by knave, coquette, and fool, To thinking minds must prove this golden rule : In all pursuits--but chiefly in a wife, Not wealth, but morals, make the happy life.
2. SONG. Let other men sing of their goddesses bright, That darken the day, and enlighten the night; I sing of a woman- but such flesh and blood, One touch of her finger would do your heart good. Ten times in each day to my charmer I come, To tell her my passion, but can't, I'm struck dumb: For Cupid, he seizes my heart by surprise. And my tongue falls asleep at the sight of her eyes. Her little dog Pompey my rival I see : She kisses and hugs him, and frowns upon me: Then pr’ythee, dear Charlotte, abuse not your charm Instead of a lap-dog take me to your arms.
1. COLIN AND PHOBE. Despairing beside a clear stream
A shepherd forsaken was laid,
A willow supported his head.
To his sighs with a sigh did reply , And the brook, in return to his pain,
Ran mournfully murmuring by. Alas! silly swain that I was ;
(Thus sadly complaining he cried) When first I beheld that fair face,
'Twere better by far I had died. She talked, and I blessed her dear tongue
When she smiled, it was pleasure too great: I listened, and cried, when she sung,
Was nightingale ever so sweet ? How foolish was I to believe
She could doat on so lowly a clown, Or that her fond heart would not grieve
To forsake the fine folk of the town! To think that a beauty so gay
So kind and so constant would Or go
clad like our maidens in grey,
Or live in a cottage on love! What though I have skill to complain,
Though the Muses my temples have crown'da What though, when they hear my soft strain,
The virgins sit weeping around ? Ah Colin, thy hopes are in vain,
Thy pipe and thy laurel resign; Thy fair one inclines to a swain
Whose music is sweeter than thine. All you, my companions so dear,
Who sorrow to see me betrayed, Whatever I suffer, forbear,
Forbear to accuse the false maid. Though through the wide world I should range,
'Tis in vain from my fortune to fly ;