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WELL then; I now do plainly see
Does of all meats the soonest cloy;
And they, methinks, deserve my pity,
Of this great hive, the city.
Ah, yet, ere I descend to th' grave,
Both wise, and both delightful too!
Only beloved, and loving me!
O, fountains ! when in you shall I Myself, eased of unpeaceful thoughts, espy? O fields ! O woods! when, when shall I be made
The happy tenant of your shade?
Here's the spring-head of Pleasure's flood; Where all the riches lie, that she
Has coin'd and stamp'd for good.
Pride and ambition here Only in far-fetch'd metaphors appear; Here nought but winds can hurtful murmurs scatter,
And nought but Echo flatter.
The gods, when they descended, hither From Heaven did always choose their way; And therefore we may boldly say
That 'tis the way too thither.
How happy here should I,
In deserts solitude.
I should have then this only fearLest men, when they my pleasures see, Should hither throng to live like me, And so make a city here.
THE ANGLER'S WISH.
I in these flowery meads would be ;
Sit here, and see the turtle-dove
Or on that bank feel the west wind
Here, hear my Kenna sing a song;
Or, a laverock build her nest :
Thus, free from lawsuits and the noise
Of princes' courts, I would rejoice.
And angle on: and beg to have
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.
Alexander Pope. LXXXIV.
PHILLIS UNWILLING. A CHOIR of bright beauties in spring did appear, To choose a May-lady to govern the year; All the nymphs were in white, and the shepherds in green, The garland was given, and Phillis was queen: But Phillis refused it, and sighing did say, I'll not wear a garland while Pan is away. While Pan and fair Syrinx are fled from our shore, The Graces are banish'd, and love is no more : The soft god of pleasure, that warm'd our desires, Has broken his bow, and extinguish'd his fires; And vows that himself and his mother will mourn Till Pan and fair Syrinx in triumph return.
Forbear your addresses, and court us no more,
Tell me no more I am deceived,
That Chloe's false and common;
She was a very woman:
She could do more for no man.
And that you think a hard thing!
And what care I one farthing?
Does man her slave oppress,
Is seldom pleased to bless :
Promotes, degrades, delights in strife,
And makes a lottery of life.
And shakes her wings and will not stay,
I puff the prostitute away:
Content with poverty, my soul I arm;
Fair Amoret is gone astray,
Pursue, and seek her, every lover ;
The wandering shepherdess discover.
Both studied, tho’ both seem neglected;
Affecting to seem unaffected.
Yet change so soon you'd ne'er suspect them;
Though certain aim and art direct them.
For that which in herself she prizes ;
FABLE, RELATED BY A BEAU TO ÆSOP.
A BAND, a Bob-wig, and a Feather,
Of vigorous youth,
Old solemn truth,
How happy she would be.