Classic Poem

AMBASSADOR AT THE CONGRESS OF SOISSONS 1728

O Thou! whose friendship is my joy and pride,
Whose virtues warm me and whose precepts guide;
Thou! to whom greatness rightly understood
Is but a larger pow'r of being good;
Say, Poyntz! amidst the toil of anxious state
Does not thy secret soul desire retreat?
Dost thou not wish (the task of glory done)
Thy busy life at length might be thy own,
That to thy lov'd philosophy resign'd
No care might ruffle thy unbended mind?
Just is the wish, for sure the happiest meed
To favour'd man by smiling Heav'n decreed
Is to reslect at ease on glorious pains,
And calmly to enjoy what virtue gains.
Not him I praise who from the world retir'd,
By no enliv'ning gen'rous passion fir'd,
On flow'ry couches slumbers life away,
And gently bids his active pow'rs decay,
Who fears bright Glory's awful face to see,
And shuns renown as much as infamy;
But bless'd is he who exercis'd in cares
To private leisure publick virtue bears,
Who tranquil ends the race he nobly run,
And decks repose with trophies Labour won.
Him Honour follows to the secret shade,
And crowns propitious his declining head;
In his retreats their harps the Muses string,
For him in lays unbought spontaneous sing;
Friendship and Truth on all his moments wait,
Pleas'd with retirement better than with state;
And round the bow'r where humbly great he lies
Fair olives bloom or verdant laurels rise.
So when thy country shall no more demand
The needful aid of thy sustaining hand,
When Peace rester'd shall on her downy wing
Secure repose and careless leisure bring,
Then to the shades of learned ease retir'd,
The world forgetting, by the world admir'd,
Among thy books and friends thou shalt possess
Contemplative and quiet happiness,
Pleas'd to review a life in honour spent,
And painful merit paid with sweet content.
Yet tho' thy hours unclogg'd with sorrow roll,
Tho' Wisdom call and Science feed thy soul,
One dearer bliss remains to be possest
That only can improve and crown the rest. —
Permit thy friend this secret to reveal,
Which thy own heart perhaps would better tell:
The point to which our sweetest passions move
Is to be truly lov'd and fondly love.
This is the charm that smooths the troubled breast,
Friend of our health and author of our rest,
Bids ev'ry gloomy vexing passion fly,
And tunes each jarring string to harmony.
Ev'n while I write the name of Love inspires
More pleasing thoughts and more enliv'ning fires,
Beneath his pow'r my raptur'd fancy glows,
And ev'ry tender verse more sweetly flows.
Dull is the privilege of living free;
Our hearts were never form'd for liberty:
Some beauteous image well imprinted there
Can best defend them from consuming care.
In vain to groves and gardens we retire,
And Nature in her rural works admire;
Tho' grateful these, yet these but faintly charm;
They may delight us but can never warm.
May some fair eyes my Friend! thy bosom fire
With pleasing pangs of ever-gay desire,
And teach thee that soft science which alone
Still to thy searching mind rests slightly known.
Thy soul tho' great is tender and refin'd,
To friendship sensible, to love inclin'd,
And therefore long thou canst not arm thy breast
Against the entrance of so sweet a guest.
Hear what th' inspiring Muses bid me tell,
For Heav'n shall ratify what they reveal:
" A chosen bride shall in thy arms be plac'd,
" With all th' attractive charms of beauty grac'd,
" Whose wit and virtue shall thy own express,
" Distinguish'd only by their softer dress:
" Thy greatness she or thy retreat shall share,
" Sweeten tranquillity or soften care;
" Her smiles the taste of ev'ry joy shall raise,
" And add new pleasure to renown and praise,
" Till charm'd you own the truth my verse would prove,
" That happiness is near ally'd to love. "