Classic Poem

TO R ICHARD T HORNHILL , Esq ;

T HORNHILL , whom doubly to my Heart commend
The Critic's Art, and Candor of a Friend,
Say what thou dost in thy Retirement find,
Worthy the Labors of thy active Mind;
Whether the tragic Muse inspires thy Thought,
To emulate what moving O TWAY wrote;
Or whether to the CoverTof some Grove
Thou and thy Thoughts do from the World remove,
Where to thyself thou all those Rules dost show,
That good Men ought to practise, or wise know.
For sure thy Mass of Men is no dull Clay,
But well inform'd with the celestial Ray.
The bounteous Gods, to thee compleatly kind,
In a fair Frame inclos'd thy fairer Mind;
And tho' they did profusely Wealth bestow,
They gave thee the true Use of Wealth to know.
Could ev'n the Nurse wish for her darling Boy
A Happiness which thou dost not enjoy:
What can her fond Ambition ask beyond
A Soul by Wisdom's noblest Precepts crown'd?
To this fair Speech, and happy Utt'rance join'd,
T' unlock the secret Treasures of the Mind,
And make the Blessing common to Mankind,
On these let Health and Reputation wait,
The favor of the Virtuous and the Great:
A Table chearfully and cleanly spread,
Stranger alike to Riot and to Need:
Such an Estate as no Extremes may know,
A free and just Disdain for all things else below.
Amidst uncertain Hopes, and anxious Cares,
Tumult'ous Strife, and miserable Fears,
Prepare for all Events thy constant Breast,
And let each Day be to thee as thy last.
That Morning's Dawn will with new Pleasure rise,
Whose Light shall unexpected bless thy Eyes.
Me, when to Town in Winter you repair,
Batt'ning in Ease you'll find, sleek, fresh, and fair;
Me, who have learn'd from E PICURUS ' Lore,
To snatch the Blessings of the flying Hour,
Whom ev'ry Friday at the Vine you'll find
His true Disciple, and your faithful Friend.