Lord Chesterfield

R. N. Esq. [Robert Nugent?], "Epistle to the Earl of Chesterfield from the Hills of Howth in Ireland, where the Author was drinking Goat's-Whey" Publick Register (3 January 1741) 5-6.

STANHOPE! wouldst thou condescend
Here to see thy humble Friend,
Far from Doctors, Potions, Pills,
Drinking Health on Hawthorn Hills:
Thou the precious Draught shalt share,
Lucy shall the Bowl prepare.
From the brousing Goat it flows,
From each balmy Shrub that grows.
Hence the Kidling's wanton Fire,
Hence the Nerves that brace his Sire.

What, tho' far from Silver Thames,
Stately Piles, and courtly Dames?
Here we boast a purer Flood,
Joys that stream from sprightly Blood;
Here is simple Beauty seen,
Fair, and cloath'd like Beauty's Queen;
Nature's Hands the Garb compose,
From the Lilly and the Rose;
Or, if charm'd with richer Dies,
Fancy ev'ry Robe supplies.
Dames with India's Treasure fraught,
Rise by magick Pow'r of Thought;
While remote from real Pelf,
Here thou shalt enjoy Thyself.

Come, and with Thee bring along
Jocund Tale, and witty Song,
Sense to teach, and Words to move,
Arts that please, adorn, improve;
And, to gild the glorious Scene,
Conscience spotless and serene.

Wretched with a W—'s store,
Wretched, tho' possess'd of more,
Lives the Man, who doom'd to roam,
Never can be bless'd at Home;
Nor retire within his Mind,
From th' Ungrateful and Unkind.
Happy they, whom Crowds befriend,
Curs'd who on those Crowds depend;
On the Great-one's peevish Fit,
On the Coxcomb's spurious Wit;
Ever sentenc'd to bemoan
Ev'ry Failing but their own.

If, like Them, rejecting Ease,
Hills and Health no longer please;
Quick descend: Thou may'st resort
To the Viceroy's splendid Court;
Like a Monarch's is his State,
O! were Monarchs just so great!
There, indignant, shalt thou see
Cringing Slaves, who might be free,
Brib'd with Titles, Hope, or Gain,
Tie their Country's shameful Chain;
Or, inspir'd by Heaven's good Cause,
Waste the Land with holy Laws;
While the Gleanings of their Pow'r,
Lawyers, Lordlings, Priests devour.

Now, methinks, I hear Thee say,
"Drink alone thy Mountain-Whey;
Wherefore tempt the Irish Shoals?
Sights like These are nearer Pauls."