Oldham's Ghost. A Dream. To Mr. Ro. Townshend

ALL husht and still, Night's melancholy shade
The dusky Arch of Heaven had overspread;
The very Beasts of Prey their Wandrings ceast;
The little Birds their murm'ring Notes supprest:
No Star appear'd, no Noise, no Wind was heard,
And neither Bough, nor Leaf, nor Blossom stir'd.
When on the sweating ground I silent lay
On Flowery Beds under a fragrant Bay,
Whose sweetness suck'd my emulous breath away.
Now parting with my Reason and my Sence,
Slumbers as soft, as sweet as Innocence,
Had seiz'd my Eyes, and the great God of Rest
Had drawn his drowsie Wand along my Breast.
Methought I saw an Angel by me stand,
With Laurels on his head and Myrtles in his hand.
And all the way the Messenger of God
Had with his hallow'd Feet in Glory trod:
Sprung up Elysian Flowers here and there,
Sweet as their Climate, as their Parent fair.
His heavenly Locks lay curl'd by Nature's Arts:
A Quiver for his Brother Cupid's Darts,
Sweating Ambrosian Dew: His Eyes too bright:
His Roses were too red: his Lillies were too white.
His Smiles kind entertainment did bespeak,
His Smiles spread in a pleasant Lip and blushing Cheek:
Narcissus smiles not half so sweet as they,
Althô he lov'd, and smil'd himself away.
Presumption yet they check'd, I know not how,
With a Majestick Censure on his Brow.
So sweet a Cherub of the Heavenly Quire!
The Gods themselves did their own Works admire.
Thus stood the winged Mercury, array'd
In Purple Robes of State—
Which to his Buskins reach'd, kiss'd them, and with them play'd.
Thus stood the Prophet, pressing me to take
A Vizard, and a Book, for Oldham's sake.
By which I knew I had acceptance found;
And falling down, I kist the Holy Ground.
But he proceeded thus—for I was dumb—
"Hail Thyrsis! little Bud of Fame! I come
"Fraught with an Embassie, sent from above,
"An Embassie of Favour, Grace, and Love.
"Thy Wish is enter'd in the Rolls of Fate:
"Thy Prayers are heard, nor fear thou shalt be great.
"Thy Parts the only Talent Heaven will give,
"(On such a Portion Prodigals might live.)
"Thô Honour is not in the least thy aim,
"Yet Wits a hunting, often light on Fame.
"Friends thou shalt have, but few, faithful, and free,
"As thou desir'st, deserv'st, if that can be.
"Wedded to a young Widow Colledge-life,
"Thy Books thy Children, and thy Muse thy Wife.
"And since thou dost only invoke my Muse,
"Me and my Works for thy sole Pattern chuse:
"By my own self I swear, thou shalt inherit
"A double Portion of Apollo's Spirit.
"Nor my adopted Son! when thus retir'd,
"(The Blessing which thou hast so long desir'd)
"Shalt thou not find a heart to lash the Crimes,
"The bold notorious Strumpets of the Times.
"Nor shalt thou want a Telescope from far:
"Deep Caves alone by day descry a Star.
"Secure from danger on the silent shore,
"The horrour of a Storm others see more,
" Than they, that without hope and help complain,
"And lose their sense in the Abyss of pain:
"By sad experience their own misery find;
"Can't utter the confusion of their mind;
"But swallow'd up, plunge deeper in Despair;
"Carry'd they know not how, they know not where.
"My Works shall both thy Mint and Optick be;
"Here at one prospect thou shalt all things see:
"All things Sarcastical, that justly fall
"Under that common head, compendious All.
"My Works shall be thy Forge to form thy Skill:
"The World finds Matter, and thy self a Will.
"Improve thy Worth, Worth is it self a Name:
"Trace but my Stile, and you secure my Fame.
"Satyr's a plain, Satyr's a pleasant Road,
"Provided that the way be not too broad.
"But in a full career 'tis hard to miss
"Running upon a dangerous Precipice.
"Be neither trivial, nor take too much pains;
"Let Malice never guide your furious Reins.
"When grave, be not elaborate, nor write
"For solid, intricate: for easie, slight:
"These and the rest for your instruction learn,
"And between good and evil to discern.
This said, rapt in an Ecstafie of Love,
Fed with vain hopes, I would my Vision prove.
Of blind Delusions in false Dreams afraid,
Strove to embrace the Evangelick Shade.
When lo! he vanish'd from my dazled Eyes,
And thus my filial Love, and thus my Duty did despise.
Fanning his silver Wings, he cut the Sky,
Which gathering in thick fleecy throngs, did fly
To see the great Embassadour of Heaven pass by.
And where the Clouds parted to give him way,
My Cries did post along as fast as they.
My Father! Father! kept the Chariots track,
Hung on the Wheels, and would have brought him back,
But left so far behind, I start and wake.