Epistles 1.10 (Creech): Urbis Amatorem

ALL Health I lover of the Country send,
To Fuscus the gay City's greatest Friend;
Brothers in all things else, what one approves,
Or flies, the other likewise hates or loves,
We Nod together like old acquainted Doves.
And now we disagree in this alone,
Our humors differ here; you love the Town,
And I the pleasant Plains, and purling Flood,
The Groves, and mossy Banks, and shady Wood.
In short, I Live, I Reign, since I'me retir'd,
From that which you as much as Heaven admir'd.
"Like one at last from the Priests service fled,
"Loathing the hony'd Cakes, I long for Bread:
Do You a Life to Natures Rules design,
And seek some fit Foundation to begin,
Some Basis where this happy Frame to raise?
The quiet Countrey is the fittest place.
Where is the Winter's Cold more mild than here?
And when the Sun ascends, and burns the year,
Where does a more delightful Wind asswage
The furious Dog-stars, or the Lions rage?
Or where do envious Cares break fewer dreams?
Do Flowers shine less, or smell less sweet than Gems?
Are Streams more pure that Leaden Pipes convey,
Than those fair Springs that with their wanton play,
And gentle murmurs eat their easie Way?
E'en midst our Palaces we plant a Grove,
And Gardens dress; our Care shows what we love:
That House is most esteem'd, He wisely builds
That hath a Prospect to the open fields.
Strive to expel strong Nature, 'tis in vain,
With doubled force she will return again,
And conquering rise above the proud disdain.
Not those that drive a Trade in Tyrian dyes,
Yet know not Counterfeits, nor how to prize;
More vexing and more certain Cheats pursue,
Than Those that can't distinguish false from True.
Those whom the smiles of Fate too much delight,
Their sudden Frowns more shake and more affright.
What you admire, You will be loath to lose;
Greatness and Fortune's guilded snares refuse:
"An humble Roof, plain Bed, and humble Board,
"More clear and more untainted sweets afford,
"Than all the Tumult of vain greatness brings,
"To Kings, or the swoln Favourites of Kings:

Both fed together, till with injur'ous force,
The stoutest Deer expell'd the weaker Horse:
He beaten, flyes to Man to right his Cause,
Begs help, and takes the Bridle in his Jaws.
Yet tho He Conquer'd, tho He rul'd the Plain,
He bore the Rider still, and felt the Rein.
Thus the mean Wretch, that fearing to be poor,
Doth sell his Liberty for meaner Ore:
Must bear a Lord, He must be still a Slave,
That cannot use the little Nature gave.
Him whom his Wealth doth not exactly fit,
Whose stores too closely, or too loosely sit,
Like Shoes ill made and faulty, if too great
They overturn, and pinch him if too strait.
Content Aristus with thy present store,
Thou wilt live wisely and not wish for more;
And let me prithee feel thy sharp reproof,
If I shall strive for more than just enough.
Money must rule, or must obey the Mind,
More fit for Service than for Rule design'd:
Behind Vacuna's Fane these lines I drew;
Well pleas'd with every thing, but wanting you.