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To my Lord of Abingdon.

I.

As when of old some Labou'ring Swain
Was favour'd with a large Encrease of Grain,
Strait to the Gods he sent his Prayer
Thro' the obsequious Air,
More swift than the wing'd Race themselves cou'd flee,
For nothing is so swift as Piety:
With no less Zeal, my Lord, to YOU
My Praises I acknowledge due
For all the Bounties you dispence,
Almost with Universal Influence;
An Influ'ence so diffus'd and free,
(O Greatness without Pride!) it ev'n extends to me!
Disdain not then that Praise, my Offering, to receive,
'Tis all, alas! the Muse can give;
But then the World shall see
I'll never cease to pay You that, till I shall cease to Be.
393

II.

Were I in Ricot's happy Shade,
Where neither Strife or Envy come,
Or meagre Care does e'er presume
One Moment's soft Repose t'invade;
But ev'ry Morning does fresh Plenty bring,
And Plenty flows with an unbounded Spring:
Where Horses Neighing, and the cheerful Sound
Of Huntsman, Horn and Hound,
Echo's a Grateful Harmony to all the Country round.
Or when your Sportful Lavington we Name,
The ever-smiling Scene is much the same:
There only 'tis where Nature is with Art at Strife;
Both are Ambitious to Excel,
And both have done so well,
That 'twou'd be hard to tell
Which of 'em's most adorn'd with Beauty and with Life!
Such Haunts as these might possibly inspire
My Breast with a Poetick Fire,
And set those Thoughts on Wing,
Which now but faintly fly, and hoarsly sing.

III.

Long we might here upon the Mansions live,
But something Nobler comes in view;
The Hospitality within
Does a new Flight begin,
And claims at once our Praise and Wonder too.
O Libe'ral Hand! and Libe'ral Heart!
Not Heav'n can hardly freelier give,
Nor he more willingly receive,
Than he's dispos'd his Bounties to impart.
394

Never was yet his Gener'ous Door,
Or Coffers that contain'd his Store,
Shut to his Friend, his Tenant, or the Poor,
Ah! fix, my Muse, thy Labours here,
Nor let Ignobler Trifles be thy Care:
Upon this Theme thou may'st for ever dwell,
And ev'ry Day have something new to tell:
A Theme which had Great Pindar's Greater Son
Been but so happy to have known;
Thro' ev'ry Village 'twou'd have rung,
The sole Delight of ev'ry Tongue;
Thro' ev'ry Meadow, ev'ry Grove,
Where Shepherds seal their Vows of Love;
Nay, to the Clouds it Echoing wou'd have flown,
And made (just to his Wish) all Future Time his own!
No vulgar, nor no vain Esteem
Cou'd wait a Blessing so extreme,
Of such a Song! and such a Theme!

IV.

Nor had his Praise, nor had his Mind
Been only to your Name confin'd:
The God-like Lyndsey's Worth he wou'd have sung,
That lasting Charm to ev'ry Loyal Tongue!
He wou'd (inspir'd with the Heroick Thought)
Have told how well he liv'd, and well he fought;
How like a Bulwork by his Prince he stood,
When 'twas found Treason to be Great, or Good:
And spite of Death and Time's devouring Jaws,
Have crown'd his Memory with deserv'd Applause;
So Great the Warriour! and so just the Cause!
Nor yet wou'd he ev'n there have staid,
But further on Triumphant fled,
And in Prophetick Verse display'd
The Happy Issue of Your Bed:
395

Never did yet in Spring appear
A view of such a Plente'ous Year
As Nature seems to Promise there!
A diffe'rent way the diffe'rent Off-spring warms;
And as the safest Guard from Human Harms,
Those take the Father's Piety, and these the Mother's Charms:
These when they come to Riper Years,
The Warbling Lyre with Love will string;
In those all we can Hope appears
That may oblige, or serve their King.
Where is there one of the Illustrious Blood
Not born and fashion'd for his Country's Good.

V.

Nor had your Wisdom and your Piety
Been pass'd neglected by;
And least of all your steadfast Loyalty;
Which stood the Pow'rful Factions late Impetu'ous Shock,
Unshaken as a Rock.
Upon smooth Seas we may with Safety steer,
For there the Pleasure does surmount the Fear;
But hard and dange'rous 'tis to gain the Port
When Winds and Waves with equal Fury roar,
And make those stately Barks their Cruel Sport
They seem'd to Court before.
Such is the Sea; nor was our Storm at Land,
By yours and other Loyal Hands represt
(But Yours more strenu'ous than the rest)
Less danger'ous to withstand.
All this and more we then had heard,
In Numbers worthy of the Bard!
And I! ev'n I! how pleas'd had I appear'd!
If for the short Liv'd Praise I render here,
I'd met it in Immortal Numbers there!
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