When nine full tedious winters paft, That utmost wifh is crown'd at laft: But the rich prize no sooner got, Again he quarrels with his lot: "These fellowships are pretty things, "We live indeed like petty kings: "Debarr'd the common joys of life, "And that prime blifs — a a loving wife! "O! what's a table richly spread "Without a woman at its head! "Would some fnug benefice but fall, "Ye feafts, ye dinners! farewel all! "To offices I'd bid adieu, "Of dean, vice præs. - of burfar too ; "Come joys, that rural quiet yields, "Come, tythes, and house, and fruitful fields!" Too fond of liberty and ease A patron's vanity to please, Long time he watches, and by stealth, Each frail incumbent's doubtful health; 1 At length and in his fortieth year, "The garden that must be new plann'd "Shall these old-fashion'd yew-trees ftand? Metheglin's luscious juice shall stream: "This aukward hut o'er-grown with ivy, "We'll alter to a modern privy: ઃઃ Up yon' green flope, of hazels trim, "An avenue fo cool and dim, "Shall to an arbour, at the end, "In spite of gout, intice a friend. ." My My predeceffor lov'd devotion"But of a garden had no notion." Continuing this fantastic farce on, Thus fixt, content he taps his barrel, And regulates the state of pews; Rides a fleek mare with purple housing, And- but on Sundays-hears no bells; Sends prefents of his choiceft fruit, And prunes himself each fapless shoot, Plants colliflow'rs, and boafts to rear And stores the pond with carp and tench. — And a third butcher's bill, and brewing, For children fresh expences yet, And Dicky now for school is fit. Why did I fell my college life (He cries) for benefice and wife ? "Return, ye days! when endlefs pleasure "I found in reading, or in leifure! "When calm around the common room "I puff'd my daily pipe's perfume! "To light my pipe- or footh my pride " No "No cares were then for forward peas, "My thoughts no christ'ning dinner croft, Oh! trifling head, and fickle heart! And fick of pleasures, scarce enjoy'd! The FIRE-SIDE. By Dr. COTTON. I. EAR Chloe, while the bufy crowd, The vain, the wealthy, and the proud, Though fingularity and pride Be call'd our choice, we'll step afide, Nor join the giddy dance. |