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These fellowships are pretty things, We live indeed like petty kings:

But who can bear to waste his whole age
Amid the dulness of a college,

Debar'd the common joys of life,
And that prime bliss-a loving wife!
O! what's a table richly spread,
Without a woman at its head!
Would some snug benefice but fall,
Ye feasts, ye dinners! farewell all!
To offices I'd bid adieu,

Of Dean, Vice Præs. of Bursar too;
Come joys, that rural quiet yields,

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,
Each frail incumbent's doubtful health:
At length, and in his fortieth year,
A living drops-two hundred clear!
With breast elate beyond expression,
He hurries down to take possession,
With rapture views the sweet retreat-
What a convenient house! how neat!
For fuel here's sufficient wood:
Pray God the cellars may be good!

The garden-that must be new plan'd-
Shall these old fashion'd yew trees stand?
O'er yonder vacant plot shall rise

The flowery shrub of thousand dyes:
Yon wall that feels the southern ray,
Shall blush with ruddy fruitage gay:
While thick beneath its aspect warm,
O'er well-ranged hives the bees shall swarm,
From which, ere long, of golden gleam
Metheglin's luscious juice shall stream:
This awkward hut, o'er-grown with ivy,
We'll alter to a modern privy:
Up yon green slope of hazels trim,
An avenue so cool and dim

Shall to an arbour at the end,
In spite of gout, entice a friend.
My predecessor lov'd devotion-
But of a garden had no notion."

Continuing this fantastic farce on,
He now commences country parson.
To make his character entire,
He weds-a cousin of the 'Squire ;
Not over-weighty in the purse,
But many doctors have done worse:
And though she boasts no charms divine,
Yet she can carve, and make birch wine,

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.

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Why did I sell my cottage life,'

He cries, for benefice and wife?

Return, ye days, when endless pleasure
I found in reading, or in leisure!
When calm around the common room
I puff'd my daily pipe's perfume!
Rode for a stomach, and inspected,
At annual bottlings, corks selected:
And dined untax'd, untroubled, under
The portrait of our pious Founder!
When impositions were supplied
To light my pipe-or sooth my pride-
No cares were then for forward peas,
A yearly-longing wife to please;
My thoughts no christ'ning dinners crost,
No children cried for butter'd toast;
And every night I went to bed,
Without a modus in my head!'

Oh! trifling head, and fickle heart!
Chagrin'd at whatsoe'er thou art;
A dupe to follies yet untried,

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,
Too roughly kind to please a lady's ear,
Unlike the flatt'ries of a lover's pen,

Such truths as women seldom learn from men.
Nor think I praise you ill, when thus I shew
What female vanity might fear to know:
Some merit's mine, to dare to be sincere,
But greater your's, sincerity to bear.

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;

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