« EelmineJätka »
These fellowships are pretty things, We live indeed like petty kings:
But who can bear to waste his whole age
Debar'd the common joys of life,
Of Dean, Vice Præs. of Bursar too;
Come tythes, and house, and fruitful fields!
Too fond of freedom and of ease
A patron's vanity to please,
Long time he watches, and by stealth,
The garden-that must be new plan'd-
The flowery shrub of thousand dyes:
Shall to an arbour at the end,
Continuing this fantastic farce on,
Thus fixt, content he taps his barrel, Exhorts his neighbours not to quarrel; Finds his churchwardens have discerning Both in good liquor, and good learning; With tythes his barns replete he sees; And chuckles o'er his surplice-fees; Studies to find out latent dues, And regulates the state of pews; Rides a sleek mare with purple housing, To share the monthly club's carousing: Of Oxford pranks facetious tells, And-but on Sundays-hears no bells; Sends presents of his choicest fruit, And prunes himself each sapless shoot; Plants cauliflow'rs, and boasts to rear The earliest melons of the year; Thinks alteration charming work is, Keeps bantam cocks, and feeds his turkies; Builds in his copse a favourite bench, And stores the pond with carp and tench.
But ah! too soon his thoughtless breast By cares domestic is opprest;
And a third butcher's bill, and brewing, Threaten inevitable ruin :
For children fresh expences yet,
And Dicky now for school is fit.
Why did I sell my cottage life,'
He cries, for benefice and wife?
Return, ye days, when endless pleasure
Oh! trifling head, and fickle heart!
And sick of pleasures scarce enjoy'd!
Each prize possess'd, thy transport ceases, And in pursuit alone it pleases.
THE Counsels of a friend, Belinda, hear,
Such truths as women seldom learn from men.
Hard is the fortune that your sex attends; Women, like princes, find few real friends: All who approach them their own ends pursue ; Lovers and ministers are seldom true.
Hence oft from Reason heedless Beauty strays, And the most trusted guide the most betrays; Hence by fond dreams of fancied pow'r amused, When most ye tyrannize, you're most abused.
What is your sex's earliest, latest care, Your heart's supreme ambition? To be fair. For this the toilet ev'ry thought employs, Hence all the toils of dress, and all the joys;