Lines to a Coasting Captain

So long harassed by winds and seas,
'Tis time, at length, to take your ease,
Change ruffian waves for quiet groves
And war's loud blast for sylvan loves.

In all your rounds, 'tis passing strange
No fair one tempts you to a change--
Madness it is, you must agree,
To lodge alone 'till forty-three.

Old Plato said, no blessing here
Could equal Love--if but sincere;
And writings penn'd by heaven, have shown
That man can ne'er be blest alone.

O'er life's meridian have you pass'd;
The night of death advances fast!
No props you plant for your decline,
No partner soothes these cares of thine.

If Neptune's self, who ruled the main,
Kept sea-nymphs there to ease his pain;
Yourself, who skim that empire o'er,
Might surely keep one nymph on shore.

Myrtilla fair, in yonder grove,
Has so much beauty, so much love,
That, on her lip, the meanest fly
Is happier far than you or I.