 | A Christmas Invitation to the Lord Carteret |  |
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A Christmas Invitation TO the Lord CARTERET.
------ Animæ quales, neque Candidiores
Terra tulit ------
Terra tulit ------
The Muse, tho' late, to Thee, the Muse's Friend,
Apollo warns, these easy Lines to send:
Laurell'd and Gay the God appear'd, at Night,
In sleepy Vision, and He bid me write:
The Theme, methought, I heard his Lyre rehearse;
And Muses, joining, pointed out the Verse.
Apollo warns, these easy Lines to send:
Laurell'd and Gay the God appear'd, at Night,
In sleepy Vision, and He bid me write:
The Theme, methought, I heard his Lyre rehearse;
And Muses, joining, pointed out the Verse.
He bid me rouze, and quit inglorious Ease;
Address The Great, and follow after Praise:
Nor, longer live An Hermit, but bring down
Choice Spirits, to my Villa, from The Town:
—You know my Favourites: Carteret! First be He:
Phœbus He loves, and He's belov'd by me.
Address The Great, and follow after Praise:
Nor, longer live An Hermit, but bring down
Choice Spirits, to my Villa, from The Town:
—You know my Favourites: Carteret! First be He:
Phœbus He loves, and He's belov'd by me.
Court Boulter, much, to Grace thy plain Abode;
That Humble, Honest Head o'th' Sons of GOD.
That Humble, Honest Head o'th' Sons of GOD.
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Tell my lov'd West, He must, a while, withdraw,
Unbend his Mind, and cease to dictate Law;
Tell him, it's my Desire, it's my Command,
He, at your Villa, join that Learned Band,
Join (tho' A Few) yet join the Chiefest Part,
Of those, who skill'd in each politer Art,
Skill'd in the Art, of Numbers and of Rhime,
At Button's, erst, deceiv'd their leisure Time;
There, where Immortal Addison repair'd;
Where Argyle, Stanhope, Steele, were often heard,
In CATO's Praise, their Rhetorick to repeat,
When CATO's Principles were out of Date.
Unbend his Mind, and cease to dictate Law;
Tell him, it's my Desire, it's my Command,
He, at your Villa, join that Learned Band,
Join (tho' A Few) yet join the Chiefest Part,
Of those, who skill'd in each politer Art,
Skill'd in the Art, of Numbers and of Rhime,
At Button's, erst, deceiv'd their leisure Time;
There, where Immortal Addison repair'd;
Where Argyle, Stanhope, Steele, were often heard,
In CATO's Praise, their Rhetorick to repeat,
When CATO's Principles were out of Date.
Philips and Tickell will obey my Call:
Let no less hallow'd Names approach thy Wall.
Only Adopt my Hort: A Friend so true!
To Hort I gave a Genius; Hort has Goust.
Let no less hallow'd Names approach thy Wall.
Only Adopt my Hort: A Friend so true!
To Hort I gave a Genius; Hort has Goust.
Chaste be your Hours; to Wit and Mirth consign'd:
Your Body Healthful, and Tranquil your Mind.
By Day, be Country Games your main Delight;
By Rules more quiet, wear away the Night.
Taper and Tea succeed the setting Sun:
Be Ombre next, or be Picquet begun;
Or, if my Spirit interrupts your Rest,
And All Apollo moves in every Breast;
To Wit and Learning be each Moment due;
Old Lore revive, or strike out somewhat new.
Be it your vacant Chasms of Time, to fill,
With Homer's, or with Maro's Lines your Skill;
Enjoy my lov'd, Laconick Nepos: Let,
If your inclin'd, the long-spun Thread be set
Of Tully's learned Reasonings before ye;
Or Livy's strong (aft Superstitious) Story.
Horace and Balzac read, and read Montaigne;
Read those who wrote the Crisis and Campaigne.
Or, if you turn your Thoughts, on Church and State,
Read Hoadly—But, when Belle serves up the Meat,
Club your own Wit, in open easy Strain,
In uncook'd Dress, like Diet of the Dean;
In manner'd Chat, be the Refreshment past;
Simplicity, to me's, an high Repast.
With Butter new, Cheese old, be crown'd the Meal:
The Cloath remov'd, the Table clean'd, ne'er fail,
To lose an Hour or two in Frank Discourse,
While Lib'ral Thoughts flows unrestrain'd by Force.
Your Body Healthful, and Tranquil your Mind.
By Day, be Country Games your main Delight;
By Rules more quiet, wear away the Night.
Taper and Tea succeed the setting Sun:
Be Ombre next, or be Picquet begun;
Or, if my Spirit interrupts your Rest,
And All Apollo moves in every Breast;
To Wit and Learning be each Moment due;
Old Lore revive, or strike out somewhat new.
Be it your vacant Chasms of Time, to fill,
With Homer's, or with Maro's Lines your Skill;
Enjoy my lov'd, Laconick Nepos: Let,
If your inclin'd, the long-spun Thread be set
Of Tully's learned Reasonings before ye;
Or Livy's strong (aft Superstitious) Story.
Horace and Balzac read, and read Montaigne;
Read those who wrote the Crisis and Campaigne.
Or, if you turn your Thoughts, on Church and State,
Read Hoadly—But, when Belle serves up the Meat,
Club your own Wit, in open easy Strain,
In uncook'd Dress, like Diet of the Dean;
In manner'd Chat, be the Refreshment past;
Simplicity, to me's, an high Repast.
With Butter new, Cheese old, be crown'd the Meal:
The Cloath remov'd, the Table clean'd, ne'er fail,
To lose an Hour or two in Frank Discourse,
While Lib'ral Thoughts flows unrestrain'd by Force.
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At Humane Frailty, or, indulge a Smile;
Or talk of Morals, in a graver Stile.
Tell how the Worth of Nature to improve:
Tell Nature's Author how to praise and love.
Your Country's Love, thro' various Tracts pursue:
Discuss to Justice, what to Honour's due;
Rally on Love; on Art's severe debate,
Talk any thing, but of the, Modern, State,
And of Church-Jargon: These things leave to know,
To the wise Orators round Skinner's Row,
Where slavish Notions, dully, are infus'd,
And Church and Coffee-House, alike, abus'd:
Or talk of Morals, in a graver Stile.
Tell how the Worth of Nature to improve:
Tell Nature's Author how to praise and love.
Your Country's Love, thro' various Tracts pursue:
Discuss to Justice, what to Honour's due;
Rally on Love; on Art's severe debate,
Talk any thing, but of the, Modern, State,
And of Church-Jargon: These things leave to know,
To the wise Orators round Skinner's Row,
Where slavish Notions, dully, are infus'd,
And Church and Coffee-House, alike, abus'd:
Toast to the Sons of Freedom; Toast the Fair:
Toast Nassau, and his long-concerted Heir.
Then to the Church allot a Solemn Glass:
Let the next Round, to Prince, and Issue pass;
And when you've toasted Townshend and his Friends,
—No more—your Beveredge, then, politely ends.
Toast Nassau, and his long-concerted Heir.
Then to the Church allot a Solemn Glass:
Let the next Round, to Prince, and Issue pass;
And when you've toasted Townshend and his Friends,
—No more—your Beveredge, then, politely ends.
And now, my belov'd Votary, beware,
Nor swell, with awkward Pomp, your Bill of Fare;
Your Guests, with Delicacy, eat, at home,
To soil, on unbought Food, to you they come.
Nor swell, with awkward Pomp, your Bill of Fare;
Your Guests, with Delicacy, eat, at home,
To soil, on unbought Food, to you they come.
Let Bella drudge, at plainest Boil'd and Roast;
No Inconnues must S---y's Table boast.
No cheap-bought Eatable, by Art made dear:
None bought, at Cent per Cent, for being Rare.
Guilo consumes a wealthy Hind's Estate,
In the, vile, Service of One little Plate.
Your Garden teems with every wholesome Plant;
Fowl, fatten'd to the Full, you never want.
The wilder Kind, in Flocks, around you fly;
They court your Skill, and seek by Art to die.
The full-grown Oxen, or the steery Kind,
We no where, better palated can find;
And, for the humbler Graziers of the Field,
Not Barnstead-Downs a Racier Juice can yield.
More I forbid—But, if more, can be due yet,
It must, A stout Plumb-Pudding be, with Sewet.
No Inconnues must S---y's Table boast.
No cheap-bought Eatable, by Art made dear:
None bought, at Cent per Cent, for being Rare.
Guilo consumes a wealthy Hind's Estate,
In the, vile, Service of One little Plate.
Your Garden teems with every wholesome Plant;
Fowl, fatten'd to the Full, you never want.
The wilder Kind, in Flocks, around you fly;
They court your Skill, and seek by Art to die.
The full-grown Oxen, or the steery Kind,
We no where, better palated can find;
And, for the humbler Graziers of the Field,
Not Barnstead-Downs a Racier Juice can yield.
More I forbid—But, if more, can be due yet,
It must, A stout Plumb-Pudding be, with Sewet.
This only, with your humble Cottage suits:
Beef, a piece—Aim not at costly Fruits;
At Gallic Birds, or Fish, at Hamburgh bought;
Or Wines from Pharian Shores, thro' Tempests, brought.
Let not the Rhene's or Danube's Vintage flow,
Where scarce, as yet, e'en Irish Apples grow;
Excel, in Nut-brown Ale: Nor want the Aid
Of Liquids, subtile, by the Limbeck, made.
When Appetite, enkeen'd by Rural Air,
Of sturdy Joints, has left the Bones as bare;
As little Noll Long's Oliverian Coat;
Or P---t, the Treasury: Not One single Groat.
Beef, a piece—Aim not at costly Fruits;
At Gallic Birds, or Fish, at Hamburgh bought;
Or Wines from Pharian Shores, thro' Tempests, brought.
Let not the Rhene's or Danube's Vintage flow,
Where scarce, as yet, e'en Irish Apples grow;
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Of Liquids, subtile, by the Limbeck, made.
When Appetite, enkeen'd by Rural Air,
Of sturdy Joints, has left the Bones as bare;
As little Noll Long's Oliverian Coat;
Or P---t, the Treasury: Not One single Groat.
The Cool, refreshing Fluid, I allow,
Which graceful Trees, from every loaded Bough,
Aided, Pomona, by thy Skill and Care,
Along the Wye, affoard, each fruitful Year.
Which graceful Trees, from every loaded Bough,
Aided, Pomona, by thy Skill and Care,
Along the Wye, affoard, each fruitful Year.
Nor, ever, wanting be a cheerful Store
Of Wines, sent hither, from the Gallic Shore:
Store! of each Colour, which are seen to Grace,
The blushing Beauties of Miss La---t's Face.
Full tasted be, and Dry the White: The Red,
Silky, and Full: The Grapes of either, bred;
The former, where the Silver Loire flows;
The latter, round the Castel, near Bourdeaux:
And, if the Tendre of your Guests, you'd touch,
Conclude with Burgundy, Pour faize Bonne Bouche!
Roomy and Neat's your House; your Linnen good;
Then Cheery be your Hearts, and Clean your Food.
Be Grafton carv'd on every Door and Tree;
Grafton's my Care, for He took Care of Thee.
Of Wines, sent hither, from the Gallic Shore:
Store! of each Colour, which are seen to Grace,
The blushing Beauties of Miss La---t's Face.
Full tasted be, and Dry the White: The Red,
Silky, and Full: The Grapes of either, bred;
The former, where the Silver Loire flows;
The latter, round the Castel, near Bourdeaux:
And, if the Tendre of your Guests, you'd touch,
Conclude with Burgundy, Pour faize Bonne Bouche!
Roomy and Neat's your House; your Linnen good;
Then Cheery be your Hearts, and Clean your Food.
Be Grafton carv'd on every Door and Tree;
Grafton's my Care, for He took Care of Thee.
| A Christmas Invitation to the Lord Carteret | |