Poems on several occasions

Since still my tributary verse attends
The close or open wedlock of my friends,
With moral lesson schooling in their turn
The' adviser Juson and the lingerer Bourne;
Whilst in the dark my arrows aim'd have been,
Not without meaning, though the mark unseen;
You too my song—not quite exhausted—claim:
The man is different, but the thing the same;
For the fair end which virtuous loves pursue
Will ever be the same and ever new,
If wisely guarded by religious rules,
Not built on chance, the deity of fools.

When sprightly youth its bloom no more shall hold,
When the joints tremble and the veins are cold,
When wrinkled age furrows the smoothest face,
When the speech falters and the sight decays,
Love, even then, time's insults may repel,
And taste the rapture which it cannot tell.

'Tis a sure rule, and never yet was cross'd,—
That who expect the least, enjoy the most.
Yet idiots dream that flitting life can stay,
That no December will succeed to May;
Crosses and pains and griefs amazed to find,
And failures, not of sex, but human-kind;
Then lay the fault on husbands or on wives;
And curse their loves, when they should blame their lives.

507

For seldom 'cause of wedlock discord springs;
If, safe from great, we mind not little, things.
But fools will cherish seeds of rising jar,
And wage for every trifle household-war;
List friends on either side, and idly vent
Their griefs to male or female confidant,
Till long-repeated feud proceeds to hate;
And then mistake their folly for their fate.

Calm may your days in even tenor glide,
Remote alike from avarice and pride:
Low-thoughted avarice, that strains to find
Reasons for all the roguery of mankind;
And pride, that, by herself too highly prized,
As all despising, is of all despised.

Methinks, our daily drudgery affords
A cure for pride more forcible than words;
Which, duly constant as returning day,
In paltry bondage wears our lives away;
Toil without thanks, and labour without end,
That makes five enemies for every friend.
Be letters taught, be sense or wit display'd;
Yet Ben grows richer, and is better paid.
Ourselves inglorious, shall we vainly claim
Reflected dignity from public fame?

508

As well might galley-slaves, oppress'd with chains,
Because their ship is gilt, forget their pains;
Exult to view the colours wave on high,
Or the loose streamers float along the sky;
Laugh, when the billows dance against the shore;
And when the bubbles shine, enjoy the oar!

509

Long may your loves with mutual transport flow,
Sincere as Heaven admits of here below.
The husband's power let sweetest softness join;
Power, not from merit sprung, but right divine:
While she, expert your thoughts to understand,
Obeys unbidden, and prevents command;
Though still improving, never boasting sense;
Careful with ease, and gay with diligence.
Around your knees may lisping prattlers stand,
And daily faster tie the true-love's band.
Plain, humble sense may all the daughters share;
Wise, if not wits; and healthy, if not fair;
Unstain'd with spots of affectation foul,
That odious, nauseous leprosy of soul.
May all the sons their father's rule obey,
Nor Whig rebellion break paternal sway.
From either parent let them heir the good:
No matter for your means or for your blood.
For names are idle; pedigrees are vain,
Could you with certain steps deduce the train
From Caradoc the old, or later Charlemagne.
And as for wealth, let them by toil ascend:
Would you desire them greater than a Freind?

510

Well may their virtues pay your tears and pains,
And warm the chilness of your ebbing veins!
May filial gratitude with cheerful ray
Gild the calm evening of your well-spent day;
And tenderest duty to a mother shown
Reward the love you yielded to your own!

University of Virginia Library

TO MR. LLOYD, ON HIS MARRIAGE, 1732.