Poems on Several Occasions With Anne Boleyn to King Henry VIII. An Epistle. By Mrs. Elizabeth Tollet. The Second Edition |
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An EPISTLE.
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20
An EPISTLE.
'Tis tasteless all! I wish that I was hurl'd
By some kind Tempest to a calmer World!
To those blest Isles, in ancient Song renown'd,
Where with eternal Spring the smiling Year is crown'd.
Where Nature's Bounty and the wealthy Soil,
Enrich the Rustics, and excuse their Toil:
Each grateful Fruit the loaded Trees produce;
The generous Wine bestows a nobler Juice.
No Misers there amass an useless Store,
Curs'd with the Knowledge of a fatal Ore:
All there are equal, all are there content,
And all are free, for all are innocent.
Such Man was made, and had continued still,
Wou'd he have liv'd in Ignorance of Ill:
But he too soon forsook that peaceful Life,
From wicked Knowledge sprung domestick Strife,
The Wife deceives the Man, the Man upbraids the Wife.
Hence endless Feuds and hateful Discords grow;
And still, like Streams, they widen as they flow.
Teach me, who from this odious World would run,
Where most are Wicked, or by such undone,
This Scene of Guilt and Wretchedness to shun.
By some kind Tempest to a calmer World!
To those blest Isles, in ancient Song renown'd,
Where with eternal Spring the smiling Year is crown'd.
Where Nature's Bounty and the wealthy Soil,
Enrich the Rustics, and excuse their Toil:
Each grateful Fruit the loaded Trees produce;
The generous Wine bestows a nobler Juice.
No Misers there amass an useless Store,
Curs'd with the Knowledge of a fatal Ore:
All there are equal, all are there content,
And all are free, for all are innocent.
Such Man was made, and had continued still,
Wou'd he have liv'd in Ignorance of Ill:
But he too soon forsook that peaceful Life,
From wicked Knowledge sprung domestick Strife,
The Wife deceives the Man, the Man upbraids the Wife.
Hence endless Feuds and hateful Discords grow;
And still, like Streams, they widen as they flow.
Teach me, who from this odious World would run,
Where most are Wicked, or by such undone,
This Scene of Guilt and Wretchedness to shun.
21
Teach you! There's no Place free, there's no Retreat
Where Innocence can hope to fix her Seat.
Shou'd you, like Hermits, in a narrow Cell,
Break your short Slumbers by the midnight Bell,
By niggard Measure bound your scanted Food,
Drink the chill Waters of the icey Flood,
And for your chiefest Dainties search the Wood.
Think you that restless Thoughts you can exclude?
That anxious Care will fly your Solitude?
Where Innocence can hope to fix her Seat.
Shou'd you, like Hermits, in a narrow Cell,
Break your short Slumbers by the midnight Bell,
By niggard Measure bound your scanted Food,
Drink the chill Waters of the icey Flood,
And for your chiefest Dainties search the Wood.
Think you that restless Thoughts you can exclude?
That anxious Care will fly your Solitude?
Methinks you tell me this; and 'tis too true:
For who can fly when following Cares pursue?
Our speedy Discontents outstrip the Mind;
What Fugitive can leave himself behind?
But I repeat what you much better know:
What the old Sabine taught so long ago.
His chearful Page consumes the Winter's Day,
And wastes the nightly Taper's paler Ray:
By his instructive Lines my Spleen is eas'd,
And I grow wiser as I grow more pleas'd.
For he alone those Depths of Wit could reach
Which form the Poet to delight and teach.
For who can fly when following Cares pursue?
Our speedy Discontents outstrip the Mind;
What Fugitive can leave himself behind?
But I repeat what you much better know:
What the old Sabine taught so long ago.
His chearful Page consumes the Winter's Day,
And wastes the nightly Taper's paler Ray:
By his instructive Lines my Spleen is eas'd,
And I grow wiser as I grow more pleas'd.
For he alone those Depths of Wit could reach
Which form the Poet to delight and teach.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |