ERE Saturn's sons were yet disgrac'd,
Whilst heathen gods were all the taste,
Full oft (we read) 'twas Jove's high will
To take the air on Ida's hill.
It chanc'd, as once with serious ken
He view'd from thence the ways of men,
He saw (and pity touch'd his breast)
The world by three foul fiends possest:
Pale Discord there, and Folly vain,
With haggard Vice, upheld their reign.
Then forth he sent his summons high,
And call'd a senate of the sky.
Round as the winged orders prest,
Jove thus his sacred mind exprest:
"Say, which of all the shining train
Will Virtue's conflict hard sustain?
For see! she drooping takes her flight,
While not a god supports her right."
He paus'd—when, from amid the sky,
Wit, Innocence, and Harmony,
With one united zeal arose,
The triple tyrants to oppose.
That instant from the realms of day
With gen'rous speed they take their way;
To Britain's isle direct their car,
And enter'd with the ev'ning star.
Beside the road a mansion stood, Defended by a circling wood; Hither, disguis'd, their steps they bend, In hopes, perchance, to find a friend ; Nor vain their hope; for records say, Worth ne'er from thence was turn'd away; They urge the traveller's common chance, And ev'ry piteous plea advance: The artful tale that Wit had feign'd, Admittance easy soon obtain'd.
The dame who own'd, adorn'd the place;
Three blooming daughters added grace.
The first, with gentlest manners blest,
And temper sweet, each heart possest;
Who view'd her, catch'd the tender flame;
And soft Amasia was her name.
In sprightly sense and polish'd air,
What maid with Mira might compare?
While Lucia's eyes, and Lucia's lyre,
Did unresisted love inspire.
Imagine now the table clear,
And mirth in ev'ry face appear:
The song, the tale, the jest went round,
The riddle dark, the trick profound.
Thus each admiring, and admir'd,
The hosts and guests at length retir'd;
When Wit thus spoke her sister train:
"My friends, our errand is but vain-
Quick let us measure back the sky;
These nymphs alone may well supply
Wit, Innocence, and Harmony.”
DEAR Chloe, while the busy crowd,
The vain, the wealthy, and the proud,
In folly's maze advance;
Though singularity and pride
Be call'd our choice, we'll step aside,
Nor join the giddy dance.
From the gay world we'll oft retire
To our own family and fire,
Where love our hours employs;
No noisy neighbours enter here,
No intermeddling stranger near
To spoil our heart-felt joys.
If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies;
And they are fools who roam :
The world has nothing to bestow;
From our own selves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut, our home.
Of rest was Noah's dove bereft,
When with impatient wing she left
That safe retreat, the ark,
Giving her vain excursion o'er,
The disappointed bird once more
Explor'd the sacred bark.
Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle pow'rs, We, who improve his golden hours,
By sweet experience know,
That marriage, rightly understood,
Gives to the tender and the good
A paradise below.
Our babes shall richest comforts bring;
If tutor❜d right, they'll prove a spring
Whence pleasures ever rise;
We'll form their minds, with studious care, To all that's manly, good, and fair,
And train them for the skies.
While they our wisest hours engage,
They'll joy our youth, support our age,
And crown our hoary hairs:
They'll grow in virtue ev'ry day,
And thus our fondest loves repay,
And recompence our cares.
No borrow'd joys! they're all our own,
While to the world we live unknown,
Or by the world forgot:
Monarchs! we envy not your state,
We look with pity on the great,
And bless our humble lot.
Our portion is not large indeed,
But, then, how little do we need!
For nature's calls are few!
In this the art of living lies,
To want no more than may suffice,
And make that little do.
We'll therefore relish with content
Whate'er kind Providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
For if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudent to enjoy it all,
Nor lose the present hour.
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