AN EPISTLE.

WRITTEN IN 1764.

BY F. N. C. MUNDAY, ESQ.

Quid Rome faciam ?-JUVENAL.

Nec vixit male qui natus moriensque fefellit-HORAT.

MIX with the world, the polish'd world, you cry,
Nor waste thy prime in dull obscurity;
Go, join assemblies of the great and gay,
Thy worth, thy wit, thy genius there display;
In towns, in courts, the road to greatness find,
Improve thy manners, and enlarge thy mind,
A place, a pension, or high-portion'd dame
Thy fortune shall repair and sinking name.
-Hold, hold my friend! and first consult with care
What suits my genius, what my strength will bear;
To education we our manners owe;

And as you bend the twig the tree will grow.
The mind once-form'd, distort it how you will,
Plain simple nature will be nature still.
'Twere strange to see a horse with human head;
As strange that I, a rustic born and bred,
My life half spent shou'd now embrace the town,
A mongrel beau engrafted on a clown:
They who in wondering at the beast concurr'd,
Would hiss at me, a mixture more absurd.
Shall I, an enemy to noise and strife,
Who cannot relish turtle for my life,

Who sleep at midnight and by daylight dine,
Who hate French manners, and abhor French wine,

To routs, to Ranelagh, and cards, a foe,
Who on my dress but little care bestow,
Fond of few words, and those of plainest kind,
Shall I with wits and men of taste be join'd?
Shall I with Fashion through her follies range,
Ape all her forms, and as she changes, change?
Forbid it, Prudence, Common Sense forbid !
My rustic manners never can be hid.
Once, and but once, by vanity betray'd,
In full-dress'd fashionable suit array'd,
Like David in Saul's armor, I a beau
Among the courtly crowd essay'd to go.
O had you seen me with distressful stare,
As greatly conscious of no business there,
On the wrought cieling, or the paintings pore,
With many a wishful look turn'd towards the door,
Amidst surrounding multitudes, alone,

Of every soul unknowing and unknown,
Formal and grave, without one single word,
With frequent stumbles o'er my dangling sword,
Yourself had pitied the bewilder'd 'squire,
Yourself had whisper'd-" My good friend, retire.".
Escap'd at length, for haste I bilk'd my chair,
Ran to my lodgings, and in safety there
Sigh'd for my plain blue plush and rural air.
At Court-but peace to ministers and kings→→
I wash my hands of all such dangerous things:
And peace to such, and happiness be theirs,
(So I no more ascend St. James's stairs)
Who cringe for pensions, and for titles bow,
And may they still stand foremost in the row;
And as the royal whisper hackneys round,
Still on each face may ready smiles be found;
For smiles at court approve the heart sincere ;
But looks like mine can never prosper there;

Like Cassius, I, a spare long-visag'd guest,
Might raise suspicion in great Cæsar's breast;
And servitude how high so e'er it be,
(A Briton speaks it) is too low for me.
-You laugh at fables, and at proverbs too;
I'll tell a tale, a recent tale, and true.,

In yon old mansion, wash'd by Derwent's flood,
'Squire Toper liv'd, th' Acteon of the wood;
In sportive green he always rode array'd;
A hunter's cap his turn of mind betray'd;
A healthy hue bespoke a length of years,
His short brown wig cou'd scarce conceal his ears;
A velvet collar did his neck surround;

His belt was stamp'd with many a tinsel hound;
Of buck his breeches, which himself he slew;
And his trim boots close to his ancles grew:
Spearlike his spurs; while many an echoing crack
Lurk'd in his lash, obedient to the smack;
Horses and hounds were his supreme delight,
Of those he thought by day, and dream'd by night.
With strong-brew'd beer his spacious vaults were stor'd,
And beef and pudding smoak'd upon his board.
His rural neighbours there a welcome found;
And Church and King, and Liberty went round.
'Midst an inglorious but a guiltless life,

He lov'd his friend, old England, and his wife.
At length (the Devil ordain'd it) Toper went
The Country's choice to Town and Parliament.
Alas, with grief the sequel I pursue!
What cannot fashion, life, and London do?
Plain Toper say'st thou?-not for half the world!
"Tis sweet Sir Topaz, and his hair is curl'd.
Behold him now of Ladies' favour vain,
Affecting manners he can ne'er attain,

Hear him unfold the mysteries of state,
Or tell you what was told him by the great,
With jumble strange of town and country words
Let him discourse of Levees, and of Lords,
Or mark his wisdom when with nicest care
He criticises on the bill of fare,

Displays the merits of a poignant dish,
And recommends his way of stewing fish ;
Reflect from what this man of taste began;
And now restrain your laughter if you can.
Himself he deems a wight of high renown,
While the world counts him but a motley clown.
Such patchwork manners must all palates loath,
Half beau, half rustic, and despis'd by both.
-Distinction, hail! for thee we dress, we fight,
Drink, game, and change the course of day and night.
Thus Nero, dead to virtue and to shame,
Fir'd the fair city to preserve his name.

-In vain I plead; you cry, "Get into life:

"Gain wealth and power, or in one word-a wife."
There ends my search, whatever ills betide,
All, all are cancell'd by a wealthy bride :
Ill-natur'd, ugly, old, it matters not,
The money'd dame is ever free from blot.
Indifference comes, disgust and downright hate,
Mere trifles pois'd against the purse's weight.
And am I thus made easy in the world,
From heavy debts to heavier evils hurl'd?
Shall I pronounce a vow I never meant,
And give my hand without my heart's consent?
Forbid it virtue, honesty, and love!

Far from my mind the hated thought remove.
Awhile the golden prospect caught my view,
As Vanity the flatter'd picture drew;
But soon I loathing turn'd, and heav'd a sigh,
As Laura's image cross'd reflection's eye.

My dear lov'd Laura! from my youth began
The tender flame, and ripen'd in the man.
My dear lov'd Laura! till my latest age
No future passion shall my vows engage.
Tho' adverse fortune keep our hands apart,
Thine are my thoughts, my wishes, and my heart.
For you, my friend, who labour to remove
My partial fancy from the life I love,

Vain is your reasoning, vain your subtle skill,
My choice was early, I approve it still.
These school-boy rhimes may testify the truth,
Writ in the plain simplicity of youth.

"Let others vainly boast their glittering store,
"And rove to foreign climes in search of more ;
"Let them for splendid care and guilty gain

Explore new worlds, and tempt the deathful main; "Be his the prize, and his the dear-bought praise, "Whom toils distinguish, and whom dangers raise; "Whilst humbler I, and thankfully content "With what the hand of Providence hath sent, "No dupe to fortune, and no slave to fame, "Without one pride, except an honest name, "Move in the narrow sphere assign'd by fate, "Nor meanly wish to be ignobly great.

"The gay, the fair, the wanton, and the proud, "May throng to cities, and in courts may crowd, "The brave, the great, the learned, and the wise, "May rank with princes, and with kings advise; "While these attain their wish of wealth and power, "And those in pleasures waste the sated hour, "Whilst the rich robe that cloaths the proudest breast "Hides not the latent care, its restless guest, "Let me unvex'd with all the storms of life, "From busy faction far, and party strife,