At length thro' maze perplex'd with maze,
Through tracts confus'd, and private ways,
With finking hearts and weary feet,
They gain their fav'rite's dark retreat ;
There, watchful at the gate, they find
SUSPICION, with her eyes behind;
And wild ALARM, awaking, blows
The trump that shakes the world's repofe.
The guests well known, falute the guard,
The hundred gates are soon unbarr'd;
Through half the gloomy cave they prefs,
And reach the wily queen's recess;
The wily queen difturb'd, they view,
With schemes to fly, though none pursue;

And, in perpetual care to hide,

What none will ever feek, employ'd.

Great queen (they pray'd) our feuds compofe, "And let us never more be foes."

"This hour (the cries) your discord ends,
"Henceforth, be SLOTH and Av'RICE friends;
"Henceforth, with equal pride, prepare
"To rule at once the captive fair.”
Th' attentive pow'rs in filence heard,
Nor utter'd what they hop'd or fear'd,
But fearch in vain the dark decree,
For CUNNING loves obfcurity;
Nor wou'd fhe foon her laws explain,
For CUNNING ever joys to pain.

She

She then before their wond'ring eyes, Bid piles of painted paper rife;

"Search now these heaps, (fhe cries) here find

"Fit emblem of your pow'r combin'd.".

The heap to AV'RICE first she

gave,

Who foon defcry'd her darling Knave:
And SLOTH, ere Envy long cou'd fting,
With joyful eyes beheld a King,

"These gifts (faid CUNNING) bear away,
"Sure engines of defpotick fway;
"These charms dispense o'er all the ball,
"Secure to rule where'er they fall.

"The love of cards let SLOTH infuse,
"The love of money foon enfues;
"The ftrong defire fhall ne'er decay,
"Who plays to win, fhall win to play;

"The breaft, where love has plann'd his reign,
"Shall burn, unquench'd, with luft of gain;
"And all the charms that wit can boast,

"In dreams of better luck be loft."

Thus neither innocent, nor gay,

The useless hours fhall fleet away,
While TIME o'erlooks the trivial strife,
And, fcoffing, shakes the fands of life;
Till the wan maid, whofe early bloom
The vigils of quadrille confume
Exhaufted, by the pangs of play,
TO SLOTH and AV'RICE falls a prey.

To

In Imitation of HORACE, Ode 4. Book 2.

T

Septimi, Gades aditure mecum.

HOU deareft youth, who taught me firft to know

What pleasures from a real friendship flow,

Where neither intereft nor defign have part,
But all the warmth is native of the heart;
Thou know'ft to comfort, footh, or entertain,
Joy of my health, and cordial of my pain.
When life feem'd failing on her latest stage,
And fell difeafe anticipated age,

When wafting fickness and afflicted pain,
By Efculapius' fons oppos'd in vain ;
Forc'd me reluctant, defperate, to explore
A warmer fun, and seek a milder fhore;
Thy fteady love with unexampled truth,
Forfook each gay companion of thy youth,
Whate'er the profp'rous or the great employs,
Bus'nefs and int'reft, and love's fofter joys,

The

The weary steps of mis'ry to attend,

To share diftrefs, and make a wretch thy friend,
If o'er the mountain's fnowy height we stray,
Where Carthage firft explor'd the vent❜rous way;
Or thro' the tainted air of Rome's parch'd plains,
Where Want refides, and Superftition reigns;
Chearful and unrepining, ftill you bear
Each dangerous rigour of the various year;
And kindly anxious for thy friend alone,
Lament his fuff'rings and forget thy own.

Oh! would kind Heav'n, these tedious fuff'rings paft,
Permit me Ickworth, reft, and health at laft,
In that lov'd fhade, my youth's delightful feat,
My early pleasure, and my late retreat,
Where lavish Nature's favourite bleffings flow,
And all the feasons all their sweets bestow;
There might I trifle carelefly away

The milder evening of life's clouded day,
From bus'nefs and the world's intrusion free,
With books, with love, with beauty, and with thee;

No farther want, no wish yet unpoffefs'd

Could e'er difturb this unambitious breast.
Let those who Fortune's fhining gifts implore,
Who fue for glory, fplendor, wealth, or power,
View this unactive state, with scornful eyes,
And pleasures they can never tafte, despise;
Let them ftill court that goddess' falser joys,

Who, while she grants their pray'r, their peace destroys.

I envy not the foremost of the great,
Not Walpole's felf, directing Europe's fate;
Still let him load Ambition's thorny shrine,
Fame be his portion, and contentment mine.
But if the gods, finifter ftill, deny

To live in Ickworth, let me there but die;
Thy hand to close my eyes in death's long night,
Thy image to attract their lateft fight:

Then to the grave attend thy poet's herse,

And love his mem❜ry as you lov'd his verse.

To the Same. From Hampton-Court, 1731.

By the Same.

Bono loco humanæ funt, quod nemo, nifi vitio fuo, mifer eft.

SENECA in EPIST.

HILST in the fortunes of the gay and great,

WH

The glare of courts, and luxury of state;

All that the meaner covet and deplore,

The pomp of wealth, and infolence of power:
Whilft in thefe various scenes of gilded life,
Of fraud, ambition, policy, and ftrife;
Where every word is dictated by art,
And ev'ry face the mask of ev'ry heart;