The lufty Swathes of Hay the Scyth cuts down,
And plenteous Crops do all his Wifhes crown;
Whilft Lambs do eccho to their bleating Ewes,
His Fields and Orchards he with Pleafure Views;
Where, to his Hand, the Fruit bends down its Boughs,
As if it faid, Take all my Stock allows;
His lovely Cottage and his chearful Wife,
And pratling Boys, augment his Joys of Life,
When round their little Fire with home-brew'd Ale,
They pass the pleasant Eve with merry Tale;
No Plots, no Treafons, nor the Cares of State
Disturb their Reft, or keep their Sense awake;
Could the Ambitious Man but truly know
What fweet Delights in Solitude do grow,
He'd straigth retire, and with one Loving She,
Defpife the pompous Courts, and fmooth-tongu'd Flat-
On the Receipt of a
Prefent of Cyder.
OUR noble Prefent of right Red-Streak, Which ftrong enough to make a CAT to fpeak,
Came Yesterday by trufty James, Sir,
With Porter laden from the Thames, Sir,
Five dozen Bottles! What d'ye mean, Sir?
Why, 'tis a Present for the Queen, Sir;
Why, you're th' most gen'rous Man alive,
A Lawyer too! you'll never thrive;
To fend a Poet fuch a Gift as this,
Is like a Suit in Forma Pauperis.
All we can pay is empty worthless Rhymes,
And they are like false Mettle in these Times;
Tho' Time has been, when Rhymes were precious
Poets in Rome were Company for KINGS;
But Rome and Britain differ in Applause,
We've no Mecenas here to plead our Caufe 3r
Here MERIT farves, and WIT neglected lies,
Our Fav'rites all, except themselves, defpife;
Here, each to fill the mighty. Coffer aims,
To build his House much finer than his Dame's;.
All he will take, but not a Penny give,
Nor value how the Poor and Tradesmen live.
Then, why to Courtiers wilt thou be fo free,
Since, should't thou want, they'll never Succour thee?
But far from me are those High Courtiers Rules,
Let fordid Souls admire th' Ambitious Fools.
I love the Mufes Friends, thofe Gen'rous few,
Which keep the Ancient Virtuous Paths in View,
None has a jufter Claim to thofe than You.
We tap'd the CYDER, and we drank your Health,
And wish it heartily with ftore of Wealth.
My Heart and Soul with grateful Ardour burn,
But Thanks is all the Poet can return.
CYDER's to NECTAR turn'd Or fo I think it,
Then pray make hafte to Town, and help to drink it.
all to THE yurak AY
Careless Gallant.
ET us Sing and be Merry, Dance, Joke, and
With Claret and Hautboy, Theorbo and
The changeable World to our Joy is unjuft, to 15%
All Treafure's uncertain, then down with your Duft,
In Frolicks difpofe your Pounds, Shillings and Pences.
For we shall be nothing an Hundred Years hence.
det som vagy nye prosand) of 7
We'll Sport and be free with Frank; Betty, and Dolly
Have Lobsters and Oyfters to cure Melancholly;
Fish Dinners will make a Man skip like a Flea,
Dame Venus her self was born of the Sea,
With her and with Bacchus we'll tickle our Senfe,
For we shall be past it an Hundred Years hence.
The beautiful Lafs that has all Eyes upon her,
Whofe Honefty fells for an Haut-guft of Honour,
Whofe Lightness and Brightness do caft fuch a Splendor,
That none are thought fit, but the Stars to attend her,
Tho' now the is grateful and fweet to the Senfe,
Will be damnable Mouldy an Hundred Years hence.
The Uferer that in the Hundred takes Twenty
Who wants in his Wealth, and pines in his Plenty,
Lays up for a Time that he never shall s
fee, I
The Year of One Thousand Eight Hundred and Three,
Shall haya chang'd all his Bags,, his Houfes and Rents,
To a Worm-eaten Coffin an Hundred Years hence,
The Chancery Lawyer who by Conscience thrives,
By fpinning a Suit to the length of three Lives:
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