No More Learning

If there be force in Virtue, or in Song. 385

Of gentle blood (part shed in Honour's cause.
While yet in _Britain_ Honour had applause)
Each parent sprung--A. What fortune, pray? --P. Their own,
And better got, than _Bestia's_ from the throne.
Born to no Pride, inheriting no Strife, 390
Nor marrying Discord in a noble wife,
Stranger to civil and religious rage,
The good man walk'd innoxious thro' his age.
Nor Courts he saw, no suits would ever try,
Nor dar'd an Oath, nor hazarded a Lie. 395
Un-learn'd, he knew no schoolman's subtle art,
No language, but the language of the heart.
By Nature honest, by Experience wise,
Healthy by temp'rance, and by exercise;
His life, tho' long, to sickness past unknown, 400
His death was instant, and without a groan.
O grant me, thus to live, and thus to die!
Who sprung from Kings shall know less joy than I.

O Friend! may each domestic bliss be thine!
Be no unpleasing Melancholy mine: 405
Me, let the tender office long engage,
To rock the cradle of reposing Age,
With lenient arts extend a Mother's breath,
Make Languor smile, and smooth the bed of Death,
Explore the thought, explain the asking eye, 410
And keep a while one parent from the sky!
On cares like these if length of days attend,
May Heav'n, to bless those days, preserve my friend,
Preserve him social, cheerful, and serene,
And just as rich as when he serv'd a QUEEN. 415
A. Whether that blessing be deny'd or giv'n,
Thus far was right, the rest belongs to Heav'n.





* * * * *





ODE ON SOLITUDE



Happy the man whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.

Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, 5
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.

Blest, who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away, 10
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,

Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
Together mixt; sweet recreation;
And Innocence, which most does please 15
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
Thus unlamented let me die,
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie. 20





* * * * *





THE DESCENT OF DULLNESS

[From the 'Dunciad', Book IV]


In vain, in vain--the all-composing Hour
Resistless falls: the Muse obeys the Pow'r.
She comes! she comes! the sable Throne behold
Of _Night_ primaeval and of _Chaos_ old!
Before her, _Fancy's_ gilded clouds decay, 5
And all its varying Rain-bows die away.
_Wit_ shoots in vain its momentary fires,
The meteor drops, and in a flash expires.
As one by one, at dread Medea's strain,
The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain; 10
As Argus' eyes by Hermes' wand opprest,
Clos'd one by one to everlasting rest;
Thus at her felt approach, and secret might,
_Art_ after _Art_ goes out, and all is Night.
See skulking _Truth_ to her old cavern fled, 15
Mountains of Casuistry heap'd o'er her head!
_Philosophy_, that lean'd on Heav'n before,
Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more.