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ODE TO

A FRIEND. 1758.

W

I.

HY fo tim❜rous, gentle friend?

Pri'thee, banish care and dread;

Of harmless pleasure, know no end,
Till thou'rt number'd with the dead.

II.

What can keep thee from the grave,
If it please th' Almighty pow'r?
What destroy thee if he'll save,

Or rob thee of the paffing hour?

III.

What should move the pow'r divine,
Thee, good mortal, to destroy?
Then, with me, right-pleasing join,
To gild the wing'd time with joy.

IV.

But not in pleasure's Syren-charms,
I mean to lose the heart:

I know that mirth has fad alarms

Where wisdom has no part.

V. But

V.

But let paffion's eafy gale,

Thy bark with rapture sweep, While powerful reason shall prevail And guide her o'er the deep.

VI.

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Then chearful flow thy tranfient breath,
With courage arm thy heart;
Immortal life begins in death,
And smiles at his grim dart.

EPISTOLARY

EPISTOLARY ODE

TO A FRIEND.

L'

I.

IKE as Lybia's burning fand,
Or the parch'd Arabian plain,
Which gentle Eurus never fann'd,
Wou'd drink th' unfathomable main-
So is the wretch who endless craves,

And restless pines in ev'ry state-
O place him with the worst of flaves,
Whether in high or low estate.
Heap him around with maffy wealth,
High-throne him on the feat of pow'r;
Each gen'rous joy he'll use by stealth,
While want shall prey on ev'ry hour.
Let glitt'ring pomp allure his foul,

Or nobler fame his mind dilate;
Thro' complicated plagues he'll roll,
And dire vexations ftill create.

The first-born mortal upon earth,

When round him fmiling Nature play'd, With discontent was void of mirth,

Tho' he o'er ev'ry creature fway'd.

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II.

He who contented spends his days-
Calm as the clear unruffled ftream,
His life in gentle current strays,
Mild as the maiden's filver dream.
Be he born to till the field,
Or in war the fword to wield;
If he o'er the midnight oil,
Waftes his life in learned toil,
Studious to inftruct mankind
Where true happiness to find;
Or if o'er the lawless main,

He roams in fearch of fordid gain ;
Or forts with nobles in proud ease,
Or humble fwains in cottages;
Be he with content but bleft-

He's the happy man confeft!

III.

Liften, dear Strephon to my fong-
O herd not with ambitious flaves,
Nor join thou with the vulgar throng-
Their joys unftable as the waves.
Strephon, thrice bleft with fruitful plains,
The lover of a fapient theme;
Strephon, whose sweetly-foothing ftrains
Flow gently as thy native ftream-

O leave

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O leave the ruthless scenes of war,

Unfit art thou for rude alarms,

Befide thy gentle * Delaware,

Come, Strephon, seek more pleasing charms. Here, while o'er the fertile vallies

Thou shalt tuneful stray along,

I will make repeated fallies,

To catch the tranfport of thy fong; Then mutual joy shall swell our foul, Attendant to bright wisdom's ftrain, While we fhall quaff the friendly bowl Far from the noify and the vain.

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