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of Chesterton in the County of Huntingdon, Esquire.
HOW 1 Blessed is He, who leads a Country Life, | |
| Unvex’d with anxious Cares, and void of Strife! | |
| Who studying Peace, and shunning Civil Rage, | |
| Enjoy’d his Youth, and now enjoys his Age: | |
| All who deserve his Love, he makes his own; | 5 |
| And, to be lov’d himself, needs only to be known. | |
| Just, Good, and Wise, contending Neighbours come | |
| From your Award 2 to wait their final Doom; | |
| And, Foes before, return in Friendship home. | |
| Without their Cost, you terminate the Cause; | 10 |
| And save th’ Expence of long Litigious Laws: | |
| Where Suits are travers’d; and so little won, | |
| That he who conquers, is but last undone: | |
| Such are not your Decrees; but so design’d, | |
| The Sanction leaves a lasting Peace behind; | 15 |
| Like your own Soul, Serene; a Pattern of your Mind. | |
| Promoting Concord, and composing Strife, | |
| Lord of your self, uncumber’d with a Wife; | |
| Where, for a Year, a Month, perhaps a Night, | |
| Long Penitence succeeds a short Delight: | 20 |
| Minds are so hardly match’d, that ev’n the first, | |
| Though pair’d by Heav’n, in Paradise, were curs’d. | |
| For Man and Woman, though in one they grow, | |
| Yet, first or last, return again to Two. | |
| He to God’s Image, She to His was made; | 25 |
| So, farther from the Fount, the Stream at random stray’d. | |
| How cou’d He stand, when, put to double Pain, | |
| He must a Weaker than himself sustain! | |
| Each might have stood perhaps; but each alone; | |
| Two Wrestlers help to pull each other down. | 30 |
| Not that my Verse wou’d blemish all the Fair; | |
| But yet, if some be Bad, ’tis Wisdom to beware; | |
| And better shun the Bait, than struggle in the Snare. | |
| Thus have you shunn’d, and shun the married State, | |
| Trusting as little as you can to Fate. | 35 |
| No porter guards the Passage of your Door; | |
| T’ admit the Wealthy, and exclude the Poor: | |
| For God, who gave the Riches, gave the Heart | |
| To sanctifie the Whole, by giving Part: | |
| Heav’n, who foresaw the Will, the Means has wrought, | 40 |
| And to the Second Son, a Blessing brought: | |
| The First-begotten had his Father’s Share, | |
| But you, like Jacob, are Rebecca’s Heir. | |
| So may your Stores, and fruitful Fields increase; | |
| And ever be you bless’d, who live to bless. | 45 |
| As Ceres sow’d where e’er her Chariot flew; | |
| As Heav’n in Desarts rain’d the Bread of Dew, | |
| So free to Many, to Relations most, | |
| You feed with Manna your own Israel-Host. | |
| With Crowds attended of your ancient Race, | 50 |
| You seek the Champian-Sports, or Sylvan-Chace: | |
| With well-breath’d Beagles, you surround the Wood, | |
| Ev’n then, industrious of the Common Good: | |
| And often have you brought the wily Fox | |
| To suffer for the Firstlings of the Flocks; | 55 |
| Chas’d ev’n amid the Folds; and made to bleed, | |
| Like Felons, where they did the murd’rous Deed. | |
| This fiery Game, your active Youth maintain’d: | |
| Not yet, by years extinguish’d, though restrain’d: | |
| You season still with Sports your serious Hours; | 60 |
| For Age but tastes of Pleasures, Youth devours. | |
| The Hare, in Pastures or in Plains is found, | |
| Emblem of Humane Life, who runs the Round; | |
| And, after all his wand’ring Ways are done, | |
| His Circle fills, and ends where he begun, | 65 |
| Just as the Setting meets the Rising Sun. | |
| Thus Princes ease their Cares: But happier he, | |
| Who seeks not Pleasure thro’ Necessity, | |
| Than such as once on slipp’ry Thrones were plac’d; | |
| And chasing, sigh to think themselves are chas’d. | 70 |
| So liv’d our Sires, e’er Doctors learn’d to kill, | |
| And multiply’d with theirs, the Weekly Bill: | |
| The first Physicians by Debauch were made: | |
| Excess began, and Sloth sustains the Trade. | |
| Pity the gen’rous Kind their Cares bestow | 75 |
| To search forbidden Truths; (a Sin to know:) | |
| To which, if Humane Science cou’d attain, | |
| The Doom of Death, pronounc’d by God, were vain. | |
| In vain the Leech wou’d interpose Delay; | |
| Fatefastensfirst, and vindicates the Prey. | 80 |
| What Help from Arts Endeavours can we have! | |
| Guibbons but guesses, nor is sure to save: | |
| But Maurus sweeps whole Parishes, and Peoples ev’ry Grave, | |
| And no more Mercy to Mankind will use, | |
| Than when he robb’d and murder’d Maro’s Muse. | 85 |
| Wou’dst thou be soon dispatch’d, and perish whole? | |
| Trust Maurus with thy Life, and M—lb—rn with thy Soul. | |
| By Chace our long-liv’d Fathers earned their Food; | |
| Toil strung the Nerves, and purifi’d the Blood: | |
| But we, their Sons, a pamper’d Race of Men, | 90 |
| Are dwindl’d down to threescore Years and ten. | |
| Better to hunt in Fields, for Health unbought, | |
| Than fee the Doctor for a nauseous Draught. | |
| The Wise, for Cure, on Exercise depend; | |
| God never made his Work, for Man to mend. | 95 |
| The Tree of Knowledge, one in Eden plac’d, | |
| Was easie found, but was forbid the Taste: | |
| O, had our Grandsire walk’d without his Wife, | |
| He first had sought the better Plant of Life! | |
| Now, both are lost: Yet, wandring in the dark, | 100 |
| Physicians for the Tree have found the Bark | |
| They, lab’ring for Relief of Humane Kind, | |
| With sharpen’d sight some Remedies may find; | |
| Th’ Apothecary-Train is wholly blind. | |
| From Files, a Random-Recipe they take, | 105 |
| And Many Deaths of One Prescription make. | |
| Garth, gen’rous as his Muse, prescribes and gives; | |
| The Shop-man sells; and by Destruction lives: | |
| Ungrateful Tribe! who, like the Viper’s Brood, | |
| From Med’cine issuing, suck their Mother’s Blood! | 110 |
| Let These obey; and let the Learn’d prescribe; | |
| That Men may die, without a double Bribe: | |
| Let Them, but under their Superiours, kill; | |
| When Doctors first have sign’d the bloody Bill: | |
| He scapes the best, who Nature to repair, | 115 |
| Draws Phisick from the Fields, in Draughts of Vital Air. | |
| You hoard not Health, for your own private use, | |
| But on the Publick spend the rich Produce. | |
| When, often urg’d, unwilling to be Great, | |
| Your Country calls you from your lov’d Retreat, | 120 |
| And sends to Senates, charg’d with Common Care, | |
| Which none more shuns; and none can better bear. | |
| Where cou’d they find another form’d so fit, | |
| To poise, with solid Sense, a spritely Wit! | |
| Were these both wanting, (as they both abound) | 125 |
| Where cou’d so firm Integrity be found? | |
| Well-born and Wealthy; wanting no Support, | |
| You steer betwixt the Country and the Court: | |
| Nor gratifie whate’er the Great desire, | |
| Nor grudging give, what Publick Needs require. | 130 |
| Part must be left, a Fund when Foes invade; | |
| And Part employ’d to roll the Watry Trade; | |
| Ev’n Canaans happy Land, when worn with Toil, | |
| Requir’d a Sabbath-Year, to mend the meagre Soil. | |
| Good senators, (and such are 3 you,) so give, | 135 |
| That Kings may be supply’d, the People thrive; | |
| And He, when Want requires, is truly Wise, | |
| Who slights not Foreign Aids nor over-buys; | |
| But, on our Native Strength, in time of need, relies. | |
| Munster was bought, we boast not the Success; | 140 |
| Who fights for Gain, for greater, makes his Peace. | |
| Our Foes, compell’d by Need have Peace embrac’d: | |
| The Peace both Parties want, is like to last: | |
| Which, if secure, securely we may trade; | |
| Or, not secure, shou’d never have been made. | 145 |
| Safe in our selves, while on our selves we stand, | |
| The Sea is ours, and that defends the Land. | |
| Be, then, the Naval Stores the Nations Care, | |
| New Ships to build, and batter’d to repair. | |
| Observe the War in ev’ry Annual Course; | 150 |
| What has been done, was done with British Force. | |
| Namur Subdu’d, is England’s Palm alone; | |
| The Rest Besieged; but we Constrain’d the Town: | |
| We saw th’ Event that follow’d our Success; | |
| France, though pretending Arms, pursu’d the Peace: | 155 |
| Oblig’d, by one sole Treaty, to restore | |
| What Twenty Years of War had won before. | |
| Enough for Europe has our Albion fought: | |
| Let us enjoy the Peace our Blood has bought. | |
| When once the Persian King was put to Flight, | 160 |
| The weary Macedons refus’d to fight: | |
| Themselves their own Mortality confess’d; | |
| And left the son of Jove, to quarrel for the rest. | |
| Ev’n Victors are by Victories undone; | |
| Thus Hannibal, with Foreign Laurels won, | 165 |
| To Carthage was recall’d, too late to keep his own. | |
| While sore of Battel, while our Wounds are green, | |
| Why shou’d we tempt the doubtful Dye agen? | |
| In Wars renew’d, uncertain of success, | |
| Sure of a Share, as Umpires of the Peace. | 170 |
| A Patriot, both the King and Country serves; | |
| Prerogative, and Privilege preserves: | |
| Of Each, our Laws the certain Limit show; | |
| One must not ebb, not t’ other overflow: | |
| Betwixt the Prince and Parliament we stand; | 175 |
| The Barriers of the State on either Hand: | |
| May neither overflow, for then they drown the Land. | |
| When both are full, they feed our bless’d Abode; | |
| Like those, that water’d once, the Paradise of God. | |
| Some Overpoise of Sway, by Turns they share; | 180 |
| In Peace the People, and the Prince in War: | |
| Consuls of mod’rate Pow’r in Calms were made; | |
| When the Gauls came, one sole Dictator sway’d. | |
| Patriots, in Peace, assert the Peoples Right, | |
| With noble Stubbornness resisting Might: | 185 |
| No Lawless Mandates from the Court receive, | |
| Nor lend by Force; but in a Body give. | |
| Such was your gen’rous Grandsire; free to grant | |
| In Parliaments, that weigh’d their Prince’s Want: | |
| But so tenacious of the Common Cause, | 190 |
| As not to lend the King against his Laws. | |
| And, in a lothsom Dungeon doom’d to lie, | |
| In Bonds retain’d his Birthright Liberty, | |
| And shamed Oppression, till it set him free. | |
| O true Descendent of a Patriot Line, | 195 |
| Who, while thou shar’st their Lustre, lend’st ’em thine, | |
| Vouchsafe this Picture of thy Soul to see; | |
| Tis so far Good as it resembles thee: | |
| The Beauties to th’ Original I owe; | |
| Which, when I miss, my own Defects I show, | 200 |
| Nor think the Kindred-Muses thy Disgrace; | |
| A poet is not born in ev’ry Race. | |
| Two of a House, few Ages can afford; | |
| One of perform, another to record. | |
| Praise-worthy Actions are by thee embrac’d; | 205 |
| And ’tis my Praise, to make thy Praises last. | |
| For ev’n when Death dissolves our Humane Frame, | |
| The Soul returns to Heav’n, from whence it came; | |
| Earth keeps the Body, Verse preserves the Fame. | |
