Is now to be no more: the mufes' foes
Would fink their Maker's praifes into profe.
Were they content to prune the lavish vine
Of ftraggling branches, and improve the wine,
Who, but a madman, would his thoughts defend?
All would fubmit; for all but fools will mend.
But when to common sense they give the lye,
And turn distorted words to blafphemy.
They give the scandal; and the wise discern,
Their gloffes teach an age, too apt to learn.
What I have loosely, or prophanely, writ,
Let them to fires, their due defert, commit:
Nor, when accus'd by me, let them complain':
Their faults, and not their function, I arraign.
Rebellion, worse than witchcraft, they purfu'd;
The pulpit preach'd the crime, the people ru'd.
The stage was filenc'd; for the faints would fee
In fields perform'd their plotted tragedy.
But let us first reform, and then fo live,
That we may teach our teachers to forgive :
Our desk be plac'd below their lofty chairs ;
Ours be the practice, as the precept theirs.
The moral part, at least, we may divide,

Humility reward, and punish pride;

Ambition, int'reft, avarice, accufe:
These are the province of a tragic muse.
These haft thou chofen; and the public voice
Has equall'd thy performance with thy choice.
Time, action, place, are so preferv'd by thee,
That e'en Corneille might with envy fee
Th' alliance of his Tripled Unity.

Thy incidents, perhaps, too thick are fown;
But too much plenty is thy fault alone.

At least but two can that good crime commit,
Thou in defign, and Wycherly in wit.

Let thy own Gauls condemn thee, if they dare;
Contented to be thinly regular :

Born there, but not for them, our fruitful foil With more increase rewards thy happy toil. Their tongue, enfeebled, is refin'd too much; And, like pure gold, it bends at ev'ry touch: Our sturdy Teuton yet will art obey,

More fit for manly thought, and ftrengthen'd with allay.

But whence art thou infpir'd, and thou alone,
To flourish in an idiom not thy own?

It moves our wonder, that a foreign guest
Should over-match the most, and match the

best.

4

1

In under-praifing thy deferts, I wrong;

Here find the first deficience of our tongue: Words, once my ftock, are wanting, to commend So great a poet, and fo good a friend..

CHESTERTON, in the County of HUNTINGDON, Efq;

OW blefs'd is he, who leads a country life,

HOW

Unvex'd with anxious cares, and void of
ftrife!

Who ftudying peace, and fhunning civil rage,
Enjoy'd his youth, and now enjoys his age;
All who deferve his love, he makes his own;

And, to be lov'd himfelf, needs only to be known.
Juft, good and wife, contending neighbors

come,

From your award to wait their final doom;

And, foes before, return in friendship home.

Without their coft, you terminate the cause ;
And fave th' expence of long litigious laws:
Where suits are travers'd; and fo little won,
That he who conquers, is but laft undone :
Such are not your decrees; but so design'd,
The fanction leaves a lasting peace behind;
Like your own foul, ferene; a pattern of your mind.
Promoting concord, and compofing strife,
Lord of yourself, uncumber'd with a wife;
Where, for a year, a month, perhaps a night,
Long penitence fucceeds a short delight :
Minds are so hardly match'd, that ev'n the first,
Tho pair'd by heaven, in Paradise were curs'd,
For man and woman, tho in one they grow,
Yet, firft or laft, return again to two.

He to God's image, fhe to his was made;

}

So, farther from the fount the ftream at random ftray'd.

How could he ftand, when, put to double pain, He must a weaker than himself sustain! Each might have ftood perhaps; but each alone; Two wrestlers help to pull each other down.

Not that my verse would blemish all the fair; But yet if some be bad, 'tis wisdom to beware; And better shun the bait, than struggle in the fnare.

Thus have you shunn'd, and fhun the marry'd state, Trusting as little as you can to fate.

No porter guards the paffage of your door, T'admit the wealthy, and exclude the poor; For God, who gave the riches, gave the heart, To fanctify the whole, by giving part;

Heaven, who forefaw the will, the means has wrought,

And to the second fon a bleffing brought;
The first-begotten had his father's thare:

But you, like Jacob, are Rebecca's heir.

So may your ftores, and fruitful fields increase; And ever be you blefs'd, who live to blefs. As Ceres fow'd, where-e'er her chariot flew; As heaven in deserts rain'd the bread of dew So free to many, to relations most,

You feed with manna your own Ifrael hoft.

With crowds attended of your ancient race, You seek the champion sports, or sylvan chace: With well-breath'd beagles you furround the wood, Ev'n then, induftrious of the common good: And often have you brought the wily fox To fuffer for the firftlings of the flocks; Chas'd even amid the folds; and made to bleed,

Like felons, where they did the murd❜rous deed.