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The yard's with lines of linen crofs'd,
The hall-door's lock'd, the key is loft:
Thefe difficulties all o'ercome,

We reach at length the drawing-room,
Then there's fuch trampling over-head,
Madam you'd fwear was brought to bed;
Mifs in a hurry bursts the lock,
To get clean fleeves to hide her fmock;
The fervants run, the pewter clatters,

My lady dreffes, calls, and chatters;
The cook-maid raves for want of butter,

J

Pigs fqueak, fowls fcream, and green geefe flutter.
Now after three hours tedious waiting,
On all our neighbours faults debating,
And having nine times view'd the garden,
In which there's nothing worth a farthing,
In comes my lady, and the pudden :
You will excufe, fir,-on a fudden-
Then, that we may have four and four,
The bacon, fowls, and colly-flow'r
Their ancient unity divide,
The top one graces, one each fide;
And by and by the fecond courfe
Comes lagging like a distanc'd horfe:
A falver then to church and king,
The butler fweats, the glaffes ring';
The cloth remov'd, the toafts go round,
Bawdy and politicks abound;

And

And as the knight more tipfy waxes,
We damn all minifters and taxes.
At laft the ruddy fun quite funk,
The coachman tolerably drunk,...
Whirling o'er hillocks, ruts, and ftones,
Enough to dislocate one's bones,

We home return, a wond'rous token

Of heaven's kind care, with limbs unbroken.
Afflict us not, ye Gods, tho' finners,
With many days like this, or dinners!

But if civilities thus teaze me,
Nor business, nor diverfions please me,
You'll afk, my Lord, how time I spend ?
I answer, with a book, or friend :
The circulating hours dividing
"Twixt reading, walking, eating, riding:
But books are ftill my highest joy,
These earliest please, and latest cloy.
Sometimes o'er diftant climes I ftray,
By guides experienc'd taught the way;
The wonders of each region view,
From frozen LAPLAND to PERU;

Bound o'er rough feas, and mountains bare,
Yet ne'er forfake my elbow chair.
Sometimes fome fam'd historian's pen
Recals paft ages back agen,

Where all I fee, through every page,
Is but how men with fenfeless rage
I 2

Each

Each other rob, destroy, and burn,
To ferve a priest's, or statesman's turn
Tho' loaded with a diff'rent aim,
Yet always affes much the fame.
Sometimes I view with much delight,
Divines their holy game-cocks fight;
Here faith and works at variance fet,
Strive hard who fhall the victory get;
Prefbytery and epifcopacy

There fight fo long, it would amaze ye:
Here free-will holds a fierce difpute
With reprobation abfolute;

There fenfe kicks tranfubftantiation,
And reafon pecks at revelation.
With learned NEWTON now I fly

O'er all the rolling orbs on high,
Vifit new worlds, and for a minute
This old one fcorn, and all that's in it:
And now with labouring BOYLE I trace
Nature thro' ev'ry winding maze,
The latent qualities admire
Of vapours, water, air, and fire:
With pleafing admiration fee
Matter's furprizing fubtlety;
As how the smallest lamp difplays,
For miles around, its scatter'd rays;
Or how (the cafe ftill more t' explain)
A fart that weighs not half a grain,

a See Boyle's Experiments.

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The atmosphere will oft perfume
Of a whole fpacious drawing-room.

Sometimes I pafs a whole long day
In happy indolence away,
In fondly meditating o'er

Past pleasures, and in hoping more :
Or wander thro' the fields and woods,
And gardens bath'd in circling floods,
There blooming flow'rs with rapture view,
And sparkling gems of morning dew,
Whence in my mind ideas rife

Of CALIA's cheeks, and CHLOE's eyes.

'Tis thus, my Lord, I, free from strife,
Spend an inglorious country life;
Thefe are the joys I ftill purfue,

When abfent from the town and you :
Thus pafs long fummer funs away,
Bufily idle, calmly gay ;

Nor great, nor mean, nor rich, nor poor,

Not having much, or withing more;
Except that you, when weary grown
Of all the follies of the town,
And seeing, in all publick places,
The fame vain fops and painted faces,
Wou'd fometimes kindly condefcend
To vifit a dull country friend: **
Here you'll be ever fure to meet
A hearty welcome, tho' no treat,

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One who has nothing else to do,
But to divert himself and you:
A house, where quiet guards the door,
No rural wits fmoak, drink and roar ;
Choice books, fafe horfes, wholfome liquor
Clean girls, backgammon, and the vicar.

To a LADY in Town, foon after her leaving the Country.

W

By the Same.

Hilft you, dear maid, o'er thousands born to reign,
For the gay town exchange the rural plain,

The cooling breeze and ev'ning walk forfake

For ftifling crowds, which your own beauties make;
Thro' circling joys while you inceffant ftray,
Charm in the Mall, and fparkle at the play;
Think (if fucceffive vanities can spare
One thought to love) what cruel pangs I bear,
Left in these plains all wretched, and alone,
To weep with fountains, and with echoes groan,
And mourn inceffantly that fatal day,
That all my blifs with CHLOE fnatch'd away.
Say, by what arts I can relieve my pain,
Mufick, verfe, all I try, but try in vain ;
In vain the breathing flute my hand employs,
Late the companion of my CHLOE's voice.

Nor

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