BY DR. COTTON.
MAN is deceiv'd by outward fhow---
'Tis a plain homespun truth I know!
The fraud prevails at ev'ry age,
So fays the school-boy, and the fage!
Yet ftill we hug the dear deceit,
And ftill exclaim against the cheat,
But whence this inconfiftent part,
Say, moralifts who know the heart?
If you'll this labyrinth pursue,
I'll go before, and find the clue.
I dreamt ('twas on a birth-day night)
A fumptuous palace rose to fight:
The builder had through ev'ry part,
Obferv'd the chafteft rules of art;
Raphael and Titian had display'd
All the full force of light and shade:
Around the livery'd fervants wait ;-
An aged porter kept the gate.
As I was traverfing the hall,
Where Bruffels' looms adorn'd the wall (Whose tap'stry fhews without my aid, A nun is no fuch useless maid),
A graceful person came in view,
(His form, it seems, is known to few)
His drefs was unadorn'd with lace,
But charms! a thousand in his face,
This, Sir, your property? I cry'd-----Mafter and manfion coincide:
Where all, indeed, is truly great,
And proves, that blifs may dwell with state,
Pray, Sir, indulge a stranger's claim,
And grant the favour of your name.
Content, the lovely form reply'd;
But think not, here that I refide;
Here lives a courtier, bafe and fly;
An open, honest, rustic 1;
Our taste and manners difagree,
His levee boafts no charms for me:
For titles, and the fmiles of kings,
To me are cheap unheeded things..
('Tis virtue can alone impart
The patent of a ducal heart:
Unless this herald fpeaks him great,
What shall avail the glare of state?)
Thofe fecret charms are my delight,
Which shine remote from public fight:
Paffions fubdued, defires at rest,-----.
And hence his chaplain shares my breaft.
There was a time (his Grace can tell)
I knew the Duke exceeding well;
Knew ev'ry fecret of his heart;
In truth, we never were apart:
But when the court became his end,.
He turn'd his back upon his friend.
One day I called upon his Grace,
Juft as the Duke had got a place:
I thought (but thought amifs, 'tis clear)
I should be welcome to the peer,
Yes, welcome to a man in pow'r;
And fo I was--------)
---for half an hour.
But he grew weary of his guest,
And foon difcarded me his breast;
Upbraided me with want of merit,
But most for poverty of spirit.
You relish not the great man's lot ?.
Come, haften to my humbler cot.
Think me not partial to the great,
I'm a fworn foe to pride and state!
No Monarchs fhare my kind embrace,
There's scarce a monarch knows my face:
Content fhuns courts, and oft❜ner dwells
With modeft worth in rural cells;
There's no complaint though brown the bread,-
Or the rude turf fuftain the head,
Though hard the couch, and coarse the meat,
Still the brown loaf and fleep are sweet.
Far from the city I refide,
And a thatch'd cottage all my pride.
True to my heart, I seldom roam,
Because I find my joys at home:
For foreign vifits then begin
When the man feels a void within.
But though from towns and crowds I fly, No humourist, nor Cynic, I.
Amidft fequefter'd shades I prize
The friendships of the good and wife,
Bid Virtue and her fons attend,
Virtue will tell thee, I'm her friend;
Tell thee, I'm faithful, conftant, kind,
And meek, and lowly, and refign'd;
Will fay, there's no diftinction known
Betwixt her household and my own.
Author. If thefe the friendships you purfue,
Your friends, I fear, are very few.
So little company, you fay,
Yet fond of home from day to day?
How do you fhun detraction's rod?
I doubt your neighbours think you odd!
Content. I commune with myself at night,
And ask my heart if all be right:
1f, "Right," replies my faithful breast,
I fmile and close my eyes to rest.
Author. You feem regardless of the town: Pray, Sir, how ftand you with the gown? Content. The clergy fay they love me well, Whether they do, they best can tell:
They paint me modeft, friendly, wife,
And always praise me to the skies ;
But if conviction's at the heart,
Why not a correspondent part
For fhall the learned tongue prevail,
If actions preach a diff'rent tale?
Who'll seek my door or grace my walls,
When neither dean nor prelate calls?
With those my friendships most obtain,
Who prize their duty more than gain;
Soft flow the hours whene'er we meet,
And confcious virtue is our treat;
Our harmless breafts no envy know,
And hence we fear no fecret foe;
Our walks ambition ne'er attends,
And hence we ask no pow'rful friends;
We wish the best to church and state,
But leave the fteerage to the great;
Careless, who rifes, or who falls,
And never dream of vacant falls;
Much lefs, by pride or int'reft drawn,
Sigh for the mitre, and the lawn.
Obferve the fecrets of my art,
I'll fundamental truths impart:
And if you'll my advice pursue,
I'll quit my hut, and dwell with you.
The paffions are a num'rous crowd, Imperious, pofitive and loud:
|