I lead where ftags through tangled thickets tread,
And shake the saplings with their branching head;
I make the faulcons wing their airy way,
And foar to seize, or stooping strike their prey;
To fnare the fish, I fix the luring bait ;
To wound the fowl, I load the gun with fate.
'Tis thus through change of exercise I range,
And strength and pleasure rise from every change.
Here, beauteous Health, for all the year remain ;
When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus again.
Oh come, thou Goddess of my rural fong,
And bring thy daughter, calm Content, along,
Dame of the ruddy cheek and laughing eye,
From whose bright presence clouds of forrow fly:
For her I mow my walks, I plat my bowers,
Clip my low hedges, and fupport my flowers;
To welcome her, this fummer-feat I dreft,
And here I court her when she comes to reft;
When the from exercise to learned ease
Shall change again, and teach the change to please.
Now friends converfing my foft hours refine,
And Tully's Tufculum revives in mine:
Now to grave books I bid the mind retreat,
And fuch as make me rather good than great.
Or o'er the works of easy fancy rove,
Where flutes and innocence amufe the grove:
The native Bard, that on Sicilian plains
Firft fung the lowly manners of the swains;
Or Maro's Mufe, that in the fairest light
Paints rural profpects and the charms of fight;
These soft amusements bring Content along,
And fancy, void of forrow, turns to song.
Here, beauteous Health, for all the year remain ; When the next comes, I'll charm thee thus again.
THE FLIES. AN ECLOGUE.
7HEN in the river cows for coolness stand,
And sheep for breezes feek the lofty land,
A youth, whom Æsop taught that every tree,
Each bird and infect, fpoke as well as he;
Walk'd calmly mufing in a fhady way,
Where flowering hawthorns broke the funny ray,
And thus inftructs his moral pen to draw
A scene that obvious in the field he faw.
Near a low ditch, where fhallow waters meet,
Which never learn'd to glide with liquid feet;
Whofe Naiads never prattle as they play,
But fcreen'd with hedges flumber out the day,
There ftands a flender fern's aspiring shade,
Whose answering branches regularly laid
Put forth their answering boughs, and proudly rise
Three ftories upward, in the nether skies.
For fhelter here, to fhun the noon-day heat,
An airy nation of the Flies retreat;
Some in foft airs their filken pinions ply,
And fome from bough to bough delighted fly,
Some rife, and circling light to perch again;
A pleafing murmur hums along the plain.
So, when a ftage invites to pageant shows,
(If great and small are like) appear the beaux;
In boxes fome with spruce pretenfion fit,
Some change from feat to feat within the pit,
Some roam the fcenes, or turning cease to roam;
Preluding mufic fills the lofty dome.
When thus a Fly (if what a Fly can fay Deferves attention) rais'd the rural lay.
Where late Amintor made a nymph a bride, Joyful I flew by young Favonia's fide, Who, mindlefs of the feafting, went to fip The balmy pleasure of the fhepherd's lip, I faw the Wanton, where I ftoop'd to fup, And half refolv'd to drown me in a cup; Till, brush'd by careless hands, fhe foar'd above: Ceafe, Beauty, cease to vex a tender love.
Thus ends the youth, the buzzing meadow rung, And thus the rival of his music fung.
When funs by thousands fhone on orbs of dew, I wafted foft with Zephyretta flew ;
Saw the clean pail, and fought the milky chear,
While little Daphne seiz'd my roving Dear.
Wretch that I was! I might have warn'd the dame,
Yet fate indulging as the danger came.
But the kind huntress left her free to foar :
Ah! guard, ye lovers, guard a mistress more.
Thus from the fern, whofe high projecting arms
The fleeting nation bent with dufky fwarms,
The fwains their love in eafy mufic breathe,
When tongues and tumult ftun the field beneath :
Black ants in teams come darkening all the road,
Some call to march, and some to lift the load;
They ftrain, they labour with inceffant pains,
Prefs'd by the cumbrous weight of fingle grains.
The Flies ftruck filent gaze with wonder down:
The bufy burghers reach their earthy town;
Where lay the burthens of a wintery store,
And thence unwearied part in search of more.
Yet one grave fage a moment's space attends,
And the small city's loftiest point ascends,
Wipes the falt dew that trickles down his face,
And thus harangues them with the gravest grace.
Ye foolish nurflings of the fummer air,
These gentle tunes and whining fongs forbear;
Your trees and whispering breeze, your grove and love,
Your Cupid's quiver, and his mother's dove;
Let Bards to bufinefs bend their vigorous wing,
And fing but feldom, if they love to fing:
Elfe, when the flowerets of the season fail,
And this your ferny fhade forfakes the vale,
Though one would fave you, not one grain of wheat,
Should pay fuch fongfters idling at my gate.
He ceas'd: the Flies, incorrigibly vain,
Heard the Mayor's speech, and fell to fing again.
AN ELEGY, TO AN OLD BEAUTY.
IN vain, poor nymph, to please our youthful fight
You sleep in cream and frontlets all the night,
Your face with patches foil, with paint repair,
Dress with gay gowns, and fhade with foreign hair.
If truth, in fpite of manners, must be told,
Why really fifty-five is fomething old.
Once you were young; or one,
She might have borne my mother, tells me wrong.
And once, fince Envy's dead before you
The women own, you play'd a sparkling eye,
Taught the light foot a modifh little trip,
And pouted with the prettieft purple lip.
To fome new charmer are the roses fled,
Which blew, to damask all thy cheek with red;
Youth calls the Graces there to fix their reign,
And airs by thousands fill their easy train.
So parting Summer bids her flowery prime
Attend the Sun to dress fome foreign clime,
While withering feafons in fucceffion, here,
Strip the gay gardens, and deform the year.
But thou, fince nature bids, the world resign,
'Tis now thy daughter's daughter's time to fhine.
With more addrefs, or such as pleases more,
She runs her female exercises o'er,
Unfurls or closes, raps or turns the fan,
And smiles, or blushes at the creature man.
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