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(Whose tap'stry shows, without my aid,
“There was a time (his Grace can tell) I knew the Duke exceeding well; Knew every secret of his heart; In truth, we never were apart: But when the Court became his end, He turn'd his back upon his friend. “One day I call'd upon his Grace, Just as the Duke had got a place: I thought (but thought amiss, ’tis clear) I should be welcome to the peer: Yes; welcome to a man in pow'r? And so I was——for half an hour. “But he grew weary of his guest, And soon discarded me his breast; Upbraided me with want of merit, But most for poverty of spirit. “You relish not the great man's lot?— Come, hasten to my humbler cot. Think me not partial to the great, I'm a sworn foe to pride and state! No monarchs share my kind embrace, There's scarce a monarch knows my face: Content shuns courts, and oft'ner dwells With modest Worth in rural cells; There's no complaint, though brown the bread, Or the rude turf sustain the head; Though hard the couch, and coarse the meat, Still the brown loaf and sleep are sweet.
“Far from the city I reside, And a thatch'd cottage all my pride. True to my heart, I seldom roam, Because I find my joys at home: For foreign visits then begin, When the man feels a void within. “But though from towns and crowds I fly, No humourist, nor cynic, I. Amidst sequester'd shades I prize, The friendships of the good and wise. Bid Virtue and her sons attend; Virtue will tell thee, I'm her friend; Tell thee, I'm faithful, constant, kind, And meek, and lowly, and resign'd; Will say, there's no distinction known Betwixt her household and my own.” Author. “If these the friendships you pursue, Your friends, I fear, are very few. So little company, you say, Yet fond of home from day to day! How do you shun Detraction's rod? I doubt your neighbours think you odd.” Content. “I commune with myself at night, And ask my heart, if all be right. If ‘right' replies my faithful breast, I smile, and close my eyes to rest.” Author. “You seem regardless of the town: Pray, Sir, how stand you with the gown?”
Content. “The Clergy say they love me well,
“With those my friendship most obtain.
Observe the secrets of my art,
“The Passions are a num’rous crowd,
“Regard the world with cautious eye,
“Be still, nor anxious thoughts employ, Distrust embitters present joy: On God for all events depend; You cannot want when God's your friend. Weigh well your part, and do your best; Leave to your Maker all the rest. The hand which form'd thee in the womb, Guides from the cradle to the tomb. . Can the fond mother slight her boy? Can she forget her prattling joy: Say then, shall sov’reign Love desert The humble and the honest heart?