FINIS.

THE CHOICE,
OR,
THE Pleasures of a Country—­LIFE, &c.

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 blisful Ease and Satisfaction spend.

Near some fair Town I’d have a private Seat,
Built Uniform, not little, nor to 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 ’tis Nauseous, and I’d ne’er endure
The needless pomp of gawdy Furniture: 
A little Garden, gratefule to the Eye,
And a cool Rilvulet run Murmuring by: 
On whose delicious Banks a stately Row,
Of shady Limes, or Sicamores, 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 Juvenal, 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 does the best excell: 
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 Genteely, but not Great. 
As much as I cou’d moderately spend,
A little more somtimes 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 th’ 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 Deboniar,
Throws of 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,