To look upon his menial Crew,
That fit around his chearful Hearth,
And Bodies fpent in Toil renew
With wholesome Food and Country Mirth.
This Morecraft faid within himself;
Refolv'd to leave this wicked Town,
And live retir'd upon his own,
He call'd his Mony in:
But the prevailing Love of Pelf,
Soon split him on the former Shelf,
And put it out again.
E PODE II.
By Mr. COWLEY.
Printed in his Poems, Page 720.
Beatus ille qui procul, &c.
the Man whom bounteous Gods allowe
Appy
With his own Hand Paternal Grounds to plow ! Like the first golden Mortals, happy he, From Bufinefs and the Cares of Mony free! No human Storms break off at Land his Sleep, No loud Alarms of Nature on the Deep ;. From all the Cheats of Law he lives fecure, Nor does th Affronts of Palaces endure. Sometimes the beauteous, marriageable Wine He to the lufty Bridegroom- Elm does join; Sometimes he lops the barren Trees around, And grafts new Life into the fruitful Wound. Sometimes be fheers his Flock, and fometimes be Stores up the Golden Treasures of the Bee. He fees his lowing Herds walk o'er the Plain, Whilft neighb'ring Hills low back to them again:
And when the Season, rich as well as gay,
All her Autumnal Bounty does difplay,
How is he pleas'd th' encreasing Ufe to fee
Of his well-trufted Labours bend the Tree!
Of which large Shares, on the glad Sacred Days,
He gives to Friends, and to the Gods repays.
With how much Foy does he beneath fome Shade,
By aged Trees rev'rend Embraces made,
His careless Head on the fresh Green recline,
His Head uncharged with Fear or with Design.
By him a River conftantly complains,
The Birds above rejoice with various Strains,
And in the folemn Scene their Orgies keep,
Like Dreams mix'd with the Gravity of Sleep;
Sleep, which does always there for Entrance wait,
And nought within against it shuts the Gate.
Nor does the rougheft Seafon of the Sky,
Or fullen Jove, all Sports to him deny.
He runs the Mazes of the nimble Hare,
His well-mouth'd Dogs glad Concert rends the Air:
Or with Game bolder, and rewarded more,
He drives into a Toil the foaming Boar;
Here flies the Hawk t'assault, and there the Net
To intercept the travelling Fowl is fet.
And all his Malice all his Craft is shown
In innocent Wars, on Beafts and Birds alone.
This is the Life from all Misfortunes free,
From thee the great One, Tyrant Love, from thee
And if a chafte and clean, tho' homely Wife,
Be added to the Bleffings of this Life,
Such as the ancient Sun-burnt Sabins were,
Such as Apulia, frugal fill does bear,
Who makes the Children and the House her Care,
And joyfully the Work of Life does share,
Nor thinks herself too noble, or too fine,
To pin the Sheep-fold, or to milch the Kine;
Who waits at Door against her Husband come,
From Rural Duties, late, and weary'd home:
Where she receives him with a kind Embrace,
A chearful Fire, and a more chearful Face;
And fills the Bowl up to a homely Lord,
And with Domeftick Plenty loads the Board.
Not all the luftful Shell fish of the Sea,
Dress'd by the wanton Hand of Luxury,
Nor Ortalans, nor Godwits, nor the rest
Of coftly Names, that glorifie a Feast,
Are at the Princely Tables better Cheer,
Than Lamb and Kid, Lettuce and Olives here.
To his Perjur'd Miftrefs.
Nox erat, & Coelo fulgebat Luna Sereno, &c.
T was one Evening, when the rifing Moon
Amidft her Train of Stars diftin&tly fhone:
Serene and calm was the inviting Night,
And Heav'n appear'd in all its Luftre bright;
When you, Neara, you, my Perjur'd Fair,
Did to abuse the Gods and me prepare;
'Twas then you fwore- Remember, faithlefs Maid,
With what endearing Arts you then betray'd;
Remember all the tender things that past,
When round my Neck your willing Arms were caft; The circling Ivies, when with Oaks they join,
Seem loofe, and coy, to thofe fond Arms of thine.
Believe, you cry'd, this folemn Vow, believe
The nobleft Pledge that Love and I can give:
Or if there's ought more facred here below,
Let that confirm my Oath to Heav'n and you.
If e'er my Breast a Guilty Flame receives,
Or covets Foys but what thy Prefence gives;
May ev'ry injur`d Power affert thy Caufe,
And Love avenge his Violated Laws :
While cruel Beafts of Prey infeft the Plain,
And Tempefts rage upon the faithlefs Main:
While Sighs and Tears fall lift'ning Virgins move,
So long, ye Pow'rs, will fond Neæra love.
Ah faithlefs Charmer, lovely perjur'd Maid!
Are thus my Vows and gen'rous Flame repaid?
Repeated Slights I have too tamely bore,
Still doated on, and fill been wrong'd the more.
Why do I liften to that Syren's Voice,
Love ev'n thy Crimes, and fly to guilty Joys!
Thy fatal Eyes my beft Refolves betray,
My Fury melts in foft Defires away:
Each Look, each Glance, for all thy Crimes attone, Elude my Rage, and I'm again undone.
But if my injur'd Soul dares yet be brave, Unless I'm fond of Shame, confirm'd a Slave, I will be deaf to that enchanting Tongue, Nor on thy Beauties gaze away my Wrong.
At length I'll loath each prostituted Grace,
Nor court the Leavings of a cloy'd Embrace;
But fhew with Manly Rage, my Soul's above
The cold Returns of thy exhaufted Love.
Then thou shalt juftly mourn at my Difdain,
Find all thy Arts, and all thy Charms are vain:
Shalt mourn, whilst I, with nobler Flames purfue
Some Nymph as fair, tho' not unjust as you;
Whose Wit and Beauty fhall like thine excel,
But far furpafs in Truth, and Loving well.
But wretched thou, whoe'er my Rival art,
That fondly boafts an Empire o'er her Heart;
Thou that enjoy'ft the fair inconftant Prize,
And vainly triumph'st with my Victories;
Unenvy'd now o'er all her Beauties rove,
Enjoy thy Ruin and Neara's Love:
Tho' Wealth and Honour grace thy nobler Birth,
To bribe her Love, and fix a wand'ring Faith:
Tho' ev'ry Grace, and ev'ry Virtue join,
Tenrich thy Mind, and make thy Form Divine:
Yet bleft with endlefs Charms, too foon you'll prove
The Treacheries of falfe Neara's Love.
Loft, and abandon'd by th'ungrateful Fair,
Like me you'll love, be injur'd, and despair;
When left th' unhappy Object of her Scorn,
Then fhall I fmile to fee the Victor mourn,
Laugh at thy Fate, and triumph in my Turn.
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