University of Virginia Library

Oppress'd with Griefs, with Poverty, and Scorn,
Of all forsaken, and of all forlorn,
What shall I do? or whither shall I flie?
Or what kind Ear will hear the Muse's Cry?
With restless Heart from Place to Place I roam,
A wretched Vagrant destitute of Home;
Driv'n from fair Granta's Shade by Fortune's frown,
I came to court the Flatt'rer in the Town.
Three tedious Days detain'd me on the Road,
Whilst the Winds whistled, and the Torrents flow'd,
On my devoted Head the Gusty Breeze,
Shook the collected Tempest, from the Trees;
For shelter to the Shades, I ran in vain,
The Shades deceitful Delug'd me with Rain;
Thus when Fate frowns upon our happier Days,
Our Friend, perhaps, our Bosom Friend betrays:
But as Vicissitudes controul our Fate,
And Griefs and Joys maintain a doubtful State,
So now the Sun's emerging Orb appears,
And with the spungy Clouds dispels my Fears,
In Tears the transient Tempest flits away,
And all the blue Expansion flames with Day.
My gazing Eyes o'er pleasing Prospects roll,
And look away the Sorrows of my Soul,
Pleas'd at each View, some rueful Thought to draw,
And moralize on every Scene I saw;
Here, with inviting Pride blue Mountains rise,
Like Joys more pleasant to our distant Eyes;
In golden Waves, there Tides of Harvest flow,
Whilst idle Poppies intermingling grow,
How like their Brother Fops an empty show!
In every Bush the warbling Birds advance,
Sing to the Sun, and on the Branches dance;
No Grief, no Cares perplex their Souls with Strife,
Like Bards they live, a poor, but merry Life;
In every place alike, their Fortunes lie,
Both live in want, and unregarded die.
With like Concern they meet approaching Death,
In Prison, or in Fields, resign their Breath;
Musing, I saw, the Fate I could not shun,
Shook my grave Head, and pensive travell'd on:
But as Augusta's wish'd-for Domes arise,
Peep o'er the Clouds, and Dance before my Eyes.
What Thoughts, what Tumults fill'd my lab'ring Breast,
To be conceiv'd alone, but not express'd;
What intermingled Multitudes arose,
Lords, Parsons, Lawyers, Baronets, and Beaus,
Fops, Coxcombs, Cits, and Knaves of ev'ry Class,
While some the better Half, some wholly Ass,
On either side bewailing Suppliants stand,
Speak with their Looks, and stretch their wither'd Hand.
In feeble Accents supplicate Relief,
And by their Sorrows multiply my Grief,
Mov'd by their Wants, my Fortune I deplore,
And deal a Tribute from my slender Store.
With Joy, the Favour they receive, and pray,
That God, the bounteous Blessing, may repay;
Thus providently wise, the lab'ring Swain
O'er the plough'd Furrows strews the fertile Grain:
The grateful Plain o'er-pays his bounteous Care,
With ten-fold Blessings, and a golden Year.

Now lost in Thought, I wander up and down
Of all unknowing, and to all unknown;
Try in each place, and ransack ev'ry News,
To find some Friend, some Patron of the Muse:
But where? or whom? alas! I search in vain,
The fruitless Labour only gives me Pain;
But soon each pleasing Prospect fades away,
And with my Money all my Hopes decay.

But now the Sun diffus'd a fainter Ray,
And falling Dews bewail'd the falling Day,
When to St. James's Park my Way I took,
Solemn in Pace, and sadden'd in my Look:
On the first Bench my wearied Bones I laid,
For gnawing Hunger on my Vitals prey'd;
There faint in melancholly Mood I sate,
And meditated on my future Fate.
Nights sable Vapours now the Trees invade,
And gloomy Darkness deepen'd ev'ry Shade;
And now, ah! whither shall the helpless fly,
From the nocturnal Horrors of the Sky;
With empty Rage my cruel Fate I curse,
While falling Tears bedew my meagre Purse;
What shall I do? or whither shall I run?
How scape the threat'ning Fate I cannot shun;
There, trembling Cold, and motionless I lay,
Till sleep beguil'd the Tumults of the Day.
“Yet tho' this mortal Body was resign'd,
“Tormenting Objects terrified my Mind,
“Despairing Forms too dreadful for the Light,
“Danc'd on my Eyes, and play'd before my Sight;
“Here worn with Sorrow, Poverty appear'd,
“In ev'ry gastly Form by Mortals fear'd:
“And now to make my Wants the more deplor'd,
“Prepar'd a plenteous Table richly stor'd.
“My Hand I stretch'd impatient of Delay,
“When lo! the fictious Treat dissolv'd away,
“Despair arose, and shook a deadly Dart,
“Then aim'd the thirsty Arrow at my Heart;
“Inly I quiver'd, trembled for my Life,
“Lost in tumultuous Agony and Grief.

“But now a kind, tho' visionary Shade
“Gleam'd thro' the Gloom, and Brighten'd all the Glade,
“On its fair Head a branching Laurel grew,
“And tho' before unseen, the Form I knew;
“While thus it spoke—poor Youth thy Fate I mourn,
“And weeping make thy Miseries my own:
“But patiently resign—I bring Relief,
“For as I caus'd, 'tis just, I cure thy Grief.
“Then hear—when Morning's beamy Rays arise,
“And shoot refulgent Glories thro' the Skies;
“To Chiswick's pleasurable Bowers repair,
“To guide your wand'ring Path be Thames's Care;
“In those fair hospitable Shades you'll find,
“Great Burlington, the Muse's surest Friend:
“Fam'd Burlington, as humble as He's great,
“Pride of the Court, and Bulwark of the State;
“To him this visionary Tale disclose,
“His Soul will melt in Pity at your Woes.
“To him return your long neglected Lyre,
“And let his Virtues every Line inspire;
“Farewel it said—when as the Morn appear'd,
To the warm Rays my dewy Head I rear'd,
Amaz'd, half drowzy, waken'd in a fright,
I ponder'd on the Vision of the Night;
When thoughtless in my Pocket I reveal'd,
A latent Six-pence happily conceal'd,
Surpriz'd with Transport stood my bristled Hair,
On Wings I seem'd to flie, and tread in Air:
To the first House I took my speedy Flight,
There wrote this recent Vision of the Night;
The wond'rous Tale in snowy Foldings bound,
Then seal'd the Pasport with a waxen Wound.
When prompted by my Genius, swift as Thought,
To Chiswick's-Bowers my rueful Story brought;
Where now with doubtful Hopes, and Fears, I wait
Your bounteous Lordship's Pleasure at your Gate.