10 For still in form he placed his chief delight,

Nor lightly broke his old accustomed rule, And much uncourteous would he hold the wight That e'er displaced a table, chair, or stool; And oft in meet array their rauks he placed,

And oft with careful eye their ranks reviewed; For novel forms, though much those forms had graced,

Himself and maiden-minister eschewed: One path he trod, nor ever would decline A hair's unmeasured breadth from off the even line.

11 A Club select there was, where various talk

On various chapters passed the lingering hour,
And thither oft he bent his evening walk,
And warmed to mirth by wine's enlivening power
And oft on politics the preachments ran,

If a pipe lent its thought-begetting fume:
And oft important matters would they scan,

And deep in council fix a nation's doom:
And oft they chuckled loud at jest or jeer,
Or bawdy tale the most, thilk much they loved to hear

12 For men like him they were of like consort,

Thilk much the honest muse must needs condemn,
Who made of women's wiles their wanton sport,
And blessed their stars that kept the curse from
them!

No honest love they knew, no melting smile
That shoots the transports to the throbbing heart!
Thilk knew they not but in a harlot's guile

Lascivious smiling through the mask of art: And so of women deemed they as they knew, And from a Demon's traits an Angel's picture drew.

13 But most abhorr'd they hymeneal rites,

And boasted oft the freedom of their fate:
Nor 'vailed, as they opined, its best delights
Those ills to balance that on wedlock wait;
And often would they tell of henpecked fool

Snubbed by the hard behest of sour-eyed dame.
And vowed no tongue-armed woman's freakish rule
Their mirth should quail, or damp their generous
flame:

Then pledged their hands, and tossed their bumpers o'er,

And Io! Bacchus! sung, and owned no other power.

14 If e'er a doubt of softer kind arose

Within some breast of less obdurate frame,
Lo! where its hideous form a phantom shows
Full in his view, and Cuckold is its name.
Him Scorn attended with a glance askew,
And Scorpion Shame for delicts not his own,
Her painted bubbles while Suspicion blew,

And vexed the region round the Cupid's throne: 'Far be from us,' they cried, the treacherous bane, Far be the dimply guile, and far the flowery chain!'

CARELESS CONTENT.

1 I am content, I do not care,

Wag as it will the world for me;
When fuss and fret was all my fare,
It got no ground as I could see:
So when away my caring went,
I counted cost, and was content.

2 With more of thanks and less of thought,
I strive to make my matters meet;

To seek what ancient sages sought,
Physic and food in sour and sweet:
To take what passes in good part,
And keep the hiccups from the heart.

3 With good and gentle-humoured hearts,
I choose to chat where'er I come,
Whate'er the subject be that starts;
But if I get among the glum,
I hold my tongue to tell the truth,
And keep my breath to cool my broth.

4 For chance or change of peace or pain, For Fortune's favour or her frown, For lack or glut, for loss or gain,

I never dodge, nor up nor down:

But swing what way the ship shall swim,
Or tack about with equal trim.

5 I suit not where I shall not speed, Nor trace the turn of every tide; If simple sense will not succeed,

I make no bustling, but abide: For shining wealth, or scaring woe, I force no friend, I fear no foe.

6 Of

ups

and downs, of ins and outs, Of they're i' the wrong, and we're i' the right, I shun the rancours and the routs;

And wishing well to every wight,
Whatever turn the matter takes,
I deem it all but ducks and drakes.

7 With whom I feast I do not fawn,
Nor if the folks should flout me, faint
If wonted welcome be withdrawn,
I cook no kind of a complaint:
With none disposed to disagree,
But like them best who best like me.

8 Not that I rate myself the rule

How all my betters should behave
But fame shall find me no man's fool,
Nor to a set of men a slave:

I love a friendship free and frank,
And hate to hang upon a hank.

9 Fond of a true and trusty tie,

I never loose where'er I link;
Though if a business budges by,
I talk thereon just as I think;
My word, my work, my heart, my hand,
Still on a side together stand.

10 If names or notions make a noise, Whatever hap the question hath, The point impartially I poise,

And read or write, but without wrath; For should I burn, or break my brains, Pray, who will pay me for my pains?

11 I love my neighbour as myself,

Myself like him too, by his leave;
Nor to his pleasure, power, or pelf,

Came I to crouch, as I conceive:
Dame Nature doubtless has designed
A man the monarch of his mind.

12 Now taste and try this temper, sirs,
Mood it and brood it in your breast;
Or if ye ween, for worldly stirs,

That man does right to mar his rest,
Let me be deft, and debonair,
I am content, I do not care.

A PASTORAL.

1 My time, O ye Muses, was happily spent,
When Phoebe went with me wherever I went;
Ten thousand sweet pleasures I felt in my breast:
Sure never fond shepherd like Colin was blest!
But now she is gone, and has left me behind,
What a marvellous change on a sudden I find!
When things were as fine as could possibly be,
I thought 'twas the Spring; but alas! it was she.

2 With such a companion to tend a few sheep,
To rise up and play, or to lie down and sleep:
I was so good-humoured, so cheerful and gay,
My heart was as light as a feather all day;
But now I so cross and so peevish am grown,
So strangely uneasy, as never was known.

My fair one is gone, and my joys are all drowned,
And my heart-I am sure it weighs more than a pound.

3 The fountain that wont to run sweetly along,
And dance to soft murmurs the pebbles among;
Thou know'st, little Cupid, if Phœbe was there,
'Twas pleasure to look at, 'twas music to hear:
But now she is absent, I walk by its side,
And still, as it murmurs, do nothing but chide;
Must you be so cheerful, while I go in pain?
Peace there with your bubbling, and hear me complain.