Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
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A55341
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The choice a poem / by a person of quality.
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Pomfret, John, 1667-1702.
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1700
(1700)
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Wing P2795; ESTC R23203
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2,606
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13
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THE CHOICE A POEM By a Person of Quality LONDON Printed and are to be sold by I. Nutt near Stationers-Hall MDCC THE CHOICE A POEM THE CHOYCE IF Heav'n the grateful Liberty wou'd give That I might chuse my Method how to live And all those Hours propitious Fate shou'd lend In blissful Ease and Satisfaction spend Near some fair Town I 'd have a private Seat Built Uniform not little nor too great Better if on a rising Ground it stood Fields on this side on that a Neighb'ring Wood. It shou'd within no other Things contain But what are Useful Necessary Plain Methinks 't is Nauseous and I 'd ne'er endure The needless Pomp of gawdy Furniture A little Garden grateful to the Eye And a cool Rivulet run Murmuring by On whose delicious Banks a stately Row Of shady Lymes or Sycamores shou'd grow At th' end of which a silent Study plac'd Shou'd with the Noblest Authors there be grac'd Horace and Virgil in whose mighty Lines Immortal Wit and solid Learning Shines Sharp Iuvenal and am'rous Ovid too Who all the turns of Loves soft Passion knew He that with Judgment reads his Charming Lines In which strong Art with stronger Nature joyns Must grant his Fancy do's the best Excel His Thoughts so tender and exprest so well With all those Moderns Men of steady Sense Esteem'd for Learning and for Eloquence In some of These as Fancy shou'd advise I 'd always take my Morning Exercise For sure no Minutes bring us more Content Than those in pleasing useful Studies spent I 'd have a Clear and Competent Estate That I might live Genteelly but not Great As much as I cou'd moderately spend A little more sometimes t' oblige a Friend Nor shou'd the Sons of Poverty Repine Too much at Fortune they shou'd taste of Mine And all that Objects of true Pity were Shou'd be reliev'd with what my Wants cou'd spare For what our Maker has too largely giv'n Shou'd be return'd in gratitude to Heav'n A frugal Plenty shou'd my Table spread With healthful not luxurious Dishes fed Enough to satisfy and something more To feed the Stranger and the Neighb'ring Poor Strong Meat indulges Vice and pampering Food Creates Diseases and inflames the Blood But what 's sufficient to make Nature Strong And the bright Lamp of Life continue long I 'd freely take and as I did possess The bounteous Author of my Plenty bless I 'd have a little Cellar Cool and Neat With Humming Ale and Virgin Wine Repleat Wine whets the Wit improves its Native Force And gives a pleasant Flavour to Discourse By making all our Spirits Debonair Throws off the Lees the Sedement of Care But as the greatest Blessing Heaven lends May be debauch'd and serve ignoble Ends So but too oft the Grapes refreshing Juice Does many mischievous Effects produce My House shou'd no such rude Disorders know As from high Drinking consequently flow Nor wou'd I use what was so kindly giv'n To the dishonour of Indulgent Heav'n If any Neighbour came he shou'd be free Us'd with respect and not Uneasy be In my Retreat or to himself or me What Freedom Prudence and Right Reason give All Men may with Impunity receive But the least swerving from their Rules too much For what 's forbidden Us 't is Death to touch That Life might be more comfortable yet And all my Joys refin'd sincere and great I 'd chuse two Friends whose Company wou'd be A great Advance to my Felicity Well born of Humours suited to my own Discreet and Men as well as Books have known Brave Gen'rous Witty and exactly free From loose Behaviour or Formality Airy and Prudent Merry but not Light Quick in discerning and in Judging Right Secret they shou'd be faithful to their Trust In Reasoning Cool Strong Temperate and Just. Obliging Open without huffing Brave Brisk in gay Talking and in sober Grave Close in Dispute but not tenacious try'd By solid Reason and let that decide Not prone to Lust Revenge or envious Hate Nor busy Medlers with Intrigues of State Strangers to Slander and sworn Foes to spight Not Quarrelsom but Stout enough to Fight Loyal and Pious Friends to Caesar true As dying Martyrs to their Maker too In their Society I cou'd not miss A permanent sincere substantial Bliss Wou'd bounteous Heav'n once more indulge I 'd chuse For who wou'd so much Satisfaction lose As Witty Nymphs in Conversation give Near some obliging Modest-Fair to live For there 's that sweetness in a Female Mind Which in a Man 's we cannot find That by a secret but a pow'rful Art Winds up the Spring of Life and do's impart Fresh Vital Heat to the transported Heart I 'd have her Reason and her Passions sway Easy in Company in private Gay Coy to a Fop to the Deserving free Still constant to her self and just to me A Soul she shou'd have for great Actions fit Prudence and Wisdom to direct her Wit Courage to look bold danger in the Face No Fear but only to be proud or base Quick to advise by an Emergence prest To give good Counsel or to take the best I 'd have th' Expressions of her Thoughts be such She might not seem Reserv'd nor talk too much That shows a want of Judgment and of Sense More than enough is but Impertinence Her Conduct Regular her Mirth refin'd Civil to Strangers to her Neighbours kind Averse to Vanity Revenge and Pride In all the Methods of Deceit untry'd So faithful to her Friend and good to all No Censure might upon her Actions fall Then wou'd ev'n Envy be compell'd to say She goes the least of Womankind astray To this fair Creature I 'd sometimes retire Her Conversation wou'd new Joys inspire Give Life an Edge so keen no surly Care Wou'd venture to assault my Soul or dare Near my Retreat to hide one secret Snare But so Divine so Noble a Repast I 'd seldom and with Moderation taste For highest Cordials all their Virtue lose By a too frequent and too bold an use And what would cheer the Spirits in distress Ruins our Health when taken to Excess I 'd be concern'd in no litigious Jarr Belov'd by all not vainly popular Whate'er Assistance I had power to bring T' oblige my Country or to serve my King Whene'er they call'd I 'd readily afford My Tongue my Pen my Counsel or my Sword Law Suits I 'd shun with as much Studious Care As I wou'd Dens where hungry Lyons are And rather put up Injuries than be A Plague to him who 'd be a Plague to me I value Quiet at a Price too great To give for my Revenge so dear a Rate For what do we by all our Bustle gain But counterfeit Delight for real Pain If Heav'n a date of many years wou'd give Thus I 'd in Pleasure Ease and Plenty live And as I near approach'd the Verge of Life Some kind Relation for I 'd have no Wife Shou'd take upon him all my Worldly Care While I did for a better State prepare Then I 'd not be with any trouble vext Nor have the Evening of my Days perplext But by a silent and a peaceful Death Without a Sigh Resign my Aged Breath And when committed to the Dust I 'd have Few Tears but Friendly dropt into my Grave Then wou'd my Exit so propitious be All Men wou'd wish to live and dye like me FINIS