ave a private seat,
Built uniform; not little, nor too great:
Better if on a rising ground it flood
On this side fields, on that a neighb'ring wood.
It should within no other things contain,
But what were useful, necessary, plain:
Methinks 'tis nauseous, and I'd ne'r endure
The needless pomp of gawdy furniture.
A little garden, grateful to the eye,
And a cool rivulet run murm'ring by:
On whose delicious banks a slately row
Of shady Lymes or Sycamores should grow.
At th' end of which a silent study plac'd,
Should be with all the noblest authors 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 love's soft passion knew:
He that with judgment reads his charming lines,
In which strong art with stronger nature joins,
Must grant his fancy, does the best excel;
His thoughts so tender, and express'd so well.
With all those moderns, men of steady sense,
Esteem'd for learning, and for eloquence.
In some of these, as fancy should 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 could moderately spend,
A little more, sometimes t' oblige a friend.
Nor should the sons of poverty repine
Too much at fortune, they should taste of mine;
And all that objects of true pity were
Should be reliev'd with what my wants could spare:
For that, our Maker has too largely giv'n,
Should be return'd, in gratitude to Heav'n,
A frugal plenty mould my table spread;
With healthy, not luxurious, dimes fed:
Enough to satisfy, and something more
To feed the stranger, and the neighb'ring poor:
Strong meat indulges vice, and pamp'ring 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 vault, but always stor'd
With the best wines each vintage could afford.
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 sediment of care,
But as the greatest blessing Heav'n lends,
May be deba