66

TO MR. GAY,

CONGRATULATING HIM ON FINISHING HIS HOUSE
AND GARDENS.

AH, friend! 'tis true-this truth you lovers

know

In vain my ftructures rife, my gardens grow,
In vain fair Thames reflects the double scenes
Of hanging mountains, and of floping greens:
Joy lives not here, to happier feats it flies,
And only dwells where WORTLEY cafts her

eyes.

What are the gay parterre, the chequer'd shade,
The morning bower, the ev'ning colonnade,
But foft receffes of uneafy minds,

To figh unheard in, to the paffing winds?
So the ftruck deer in fome fequefter'd part
Lies down to die, the arrow at his heart,
He, ftretch'd unseen in coverts hid from day,
Bleeds drop by drop, and pants his life away.”

5

10

THESE very beautiful lines I have introduced in this place, as the most proper, after Pope's Infeription on his Grotto. In Pope's works the eight laft lines only have been published as a fragment, the others were fuppreffed in confequence of his fubfequent quarrel with the Lady whofe name appears in them. They appear evidently written from the heart.

VOL. II.

BB

Lady

Lady Mary's account of them puts their authenticity out of doubt:

"I fee fometimes Mr. Congreve, and very feldom Mr. Pope, who continues to embellish his house at Twickenham. He has made a fubterranean grotto, which he has furnished with lookingglaffes, and they tell me it has a good effect. I fend you fome verfes, addreffed to Mr. Gay, who wrote him a congratulatory Letter on his finishing his house. I ftifled these here, and I beg they may die the same death at Paris, and never go farther than your closet."

Dallaway's edition of Lady M. W. Montagu's Works, vol. iii. p. 198,

TO MRS. M. B.*

ON HER BIRTH-DAY.

H be thou bleft with all that Heav'n can fend, OH Long Health, long Youth, long Pleasure, and a Friend:

Not with those Toys the female world admire,
Riches that vex, and Vanities that tire.
With added years if Life bring nothing new,
But like a Sieve let ev'ry bleffing through,
Some joy still loft, as each vain year runs o'er,
And all we gain, fome fad Reflection more;
Is that a Birth-day? 'tis alas! too clear,
'Tis but the Fun'ral of the former year.

Let Joy or Eafe, let Affluence or Content, And the gay Confcience of a life well spent,

NOTES.

5

10

Calm

*Martha Blount.

VER. 10. 'Tis but the Fun'ral] Immediately after this line were thefe four following, in the original:

"If there's no hope, with kind, tho' fainter ray,

To gild the evening of our future day;

If every page of life's long volume tell

The fame dull ftory, Mordaunt, thou didst well!" Colonel Mordaunt, who deftroyed himself, though not under the preffure of any ill or misfortune. WARTON.

Calm ev'ry thought, inspirit ev'ry grace,
Glow in thy heart, and fmile upon thy face.
Let day improve on day, and year on year,
Without a Pain, a Trouble, or a Fear;
Till Death unfelt that tender frame destroy,
In some soft Dream, or Extafy of Joy,
Peaceful fleep out the Sabbath of the Tomb,
And wake to Raptures in a Life to come.

VARIATIONS.

VER. 15. Originally thus in the MS.

And oh fince Death must that fair frame destroy,
Die, by fome fudden extafy of Joy;

In fome foft dream may thy mild foul remove,
And be thy latest gafp a figh of Love.