For Europe's freedom, and Britannia's fame :
That fir'd with gen'rous envy, they may dare
To emulate thy deeds. -So fhall thy name,
Dear to thy country, ftill infpire her fons
With martial virtue; and to high attempts,
Excite their arms, till other battles won,
And nations fav'd, new Monuments require,
And other BLENHEIMS fhall adorn the land.

TO THE

Reverend Dr. AYS COUGH at Oxford.

Written from Paris in the Year 1728.

[By the Same.]

SAY, dearest friend, how roll thy hours away?

What pleafing ftudy cheats the tedious day? Doft thou the facred volumes oft explore

Of wife antiquity's immortal lore,

Where virtue by the charms of wit refin'd,

At once exalts and polishes the mind ?

4

How

How diff'rent from our modern guilty art,
Which Pleafes only to Corrupt the heart;
Whofe curs'd refinements odious Vice adorn,
And teach to Honour what we ought to Scorn!
Doft thou in fage Hiftorians joy to fee
How Roman Greatnefs rofe with Liberty;
How the fame hands that tyrants durft controul,
Their empire ftretch'd from Atlas to the Pole;
Till wealth and conqueft into flaves refin'd
The proud luxurious masters of mankind ?
Doft thou in letter'd Greece each charm admire,
Each grace, each virtue Freedom could inspire ;
Yet in her troubled states see all the woes,
And all the crimes that giddy Faction knows;
Till rent by parties, by corruption fold,
Or weakly careless, or too rafhly bold,
She funk beneath a mitigated doom,
The Slave and Tut'refs of protecting Rome?
Does calm Philosophy her aid impart,
To guide the paffions, and to mend the heart?
Taught by her precepts, haft thou learnt the end
To which alone the wife their ftudies bend ;

For which alone by nature were defign'd
The pow'rs of thought

To benefit mankind?

Not like a cloyster'd drone, to read and doze,

In undeferving, undeferv'd repofe ;

But reafon's influence to diffufe; to clear

Th' enlighten'd world of ev'ry gloomy fear;

Difpel the mifts of error, and unbind

1

Those pedant chans that clog the freeborn mind.
Happy who thus his leifure can employ !
He knows the pureft hours of tranquil joy;
Nor vex'd with pangs that bufier bofoms tear,
Nor loft to focial virtue's pleafing care;.
Safe in the port, yet lab'ring to sustain
Those who still float on the tempeftuous main.
So Locke the days of ftudious Quiet spent ;
So Boyle in Wisdom found divine Content;
So Cambray, worthy of a happier doom,
The virtuous flave of Louis and of Rome.

Good a Wor'fter thus fupports his drooping age,
Far from court flatt'ry, far from party-rage;

He, who in youth a tyrant's frown defy'd,
Firm and intrepid on his country's fide,

Her boldeft champion then, and now her mildeft guide.
O gen'rous warmth! O fanctity divine!

To emulate his worth, my friend, be thine:
Learn from his life the duties of the Gown ;
Learn not to flatter, nor infult the Crown;
Nor bafely fervile court the guilty Great,
Nor raise the Church a Rival to the State :
To Error mild, to Vice alone fevere,

Seek not to spread the law of Love by Fear.

The priest, who plagues the world, can never mend :

No foe to Man was e'er to God a friend:

Let Reafon and let Virtue Faith maintain,
All Force but theirs is impious, weak, and vain.
Me other cares in other climes engage,
Cares that become my birth, and suit my age;
In various knowledge to improve my youth,
And conquer Prejudice, worft foe to Truth;
By foreign arts domestick faults to mend,
Enlarge my notions, and my views extend ;
The ufeful science of the world to know,
Which books can never teach, or pedants fhew.
A nation here I pity, and admire,

Whom nobleft fentiments of glory fire,

Yet taught by cuftom's force, and bigot fear,
To ferve with pride, and boaft the yoke they bear:
Whofe Nobles born to Cringe, and to Command,
In courts a mean, in camps a gen'rous band;
From each low Tool of pow'r content receive
Thofe laws, their dreaded arms to Europe give.
Whofe People vain in Want, in Bondage bleft,
Tho' plunder'd, gay; induftrious, though opprefs'd;
With happy follies rife above their fate,

The Jeft and Envy of each wifer state.

Yet here the Muses deign'd a while to fport
In the short fun-fhine of a fav'ring court:
Here Boileau ftrong in fenfe, and fharp in wit,
Who from the Ancients, like the Ancients writ;
Permiffion gain'd inferior vice to blame,

By flatt'ring incenfe to his Master's fame.

Here

Here Moliere, firft of comick wits, excell'd
Whate'er Athenian theatres beheld;
By keen, yet decent fatire skill'd to please,
With Morals Mirth uniting, Strength with Eafe.
Now charm'd, I hear the bold Corneille inspire
Heroick thoughts with Shakespear's force and fire;
Now fweet Racine with milder influence move
The foften'd heart to Pity and to Love.

With mingled pain and pleasure I survey
The pompous works of arbitrary sway;
Proud Palaces, that drain'd the subjects flore,
Rais'd on the ruins of th' opprefs'd and poor;
Where ev'n mute walls are taught to flatter state,
And painted triumphs ftile Ambition GREAT.
With more delight thofe pleafing fhades I view,
Where Condé from an envious court withdrew ;
Where, fick of glory, faction, pow'r and pride,
(Sure judge how empty all, who all had try'd)
Beneath his palms the weary Chief repos'd,
And life's great feene in quiet Virtue clos'd.
With fhame that other fam'd Retreat I fee
Adorn'd by Art, difgrac'd by Luxury d;
Where Orleans wafted ev'ry vacant hour,
In the wild riot of unbounded pow'r.
Where feverish Debauch and impious Love
Stain'd the mad table and the guilty grove.

The victories of Louis XIV. painted in the galleries
d St. Cloud,

of Versailles.

C

Chantilly.

With