To my Lord — In the Year 1730. From Worcestershire. George Lyttelton, 1st Baron Lyttelton Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T131163 K104099.002 Dodsley, Robert, 1703-1764. A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands. Vol. II. London printed by J. Hughs, for R. and J. Dodsley 1763 [1st ed. 1758] pp. 38-41. 6v.: music; 8⁰.

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To my Lord — "HERVEY" (1782) In the Year 1730. From Worcestershire . By the Same . Strenua nos exercet Inertia : Navibus atque Quadrigis petimus bene Vivere : quod petis hic est ; Est Ulubris , Animus si te non deficit aequus . Horace . Horace, Epistles 1.11, ll. 28-30. FAV'RITE of Venus and the tuneful Nine , Pollio , by nature form'd in courts to shine , Wilt thou once more a kind attention lend To thy long absent and forgotten friend ; Who after seas and mountains wander'd o'er , Return'd at length to his own native shore , From all that's gay retir'd , and all that's great , Beneath the shades of his paternal seat Has found that Happiness he sought in vain On the fam'd banks of Tiber and of Scine ? 'Tis not to view the well-proportion'd pile , The charms of Titian's and of Raphael's stile ; At soft Italian sounds to melt away ; Or in the fragrant groves of myrtle stray ; That lulls the tumults of the soul to rest , Or makes the fond possessor truly blest . In our own breasts the source of Pleasure lies Still open , and still flowing to the wise ; Not forc'd by toilsome art and wild desire Beyond the bounds of nature to aspire , But in its proper channels gliding fair ; A common benefit , which all may share , Yet half mankind this easy Good disdain , Nor relish happiness unbought by pain ; False is their taste of bliss , and thence their search is vain . So idle , yet so restless are our minds , We climb the Alps , and brave the raging winds , Through various toils to seek Content we roam , Which but with thinking right were our's at home . For not the ceaseless change of shifted place Can from the heart a settled grief erase ; Nor can the purer balm of foreign air Heal the distemper'd mind of aching care . The wretch by wild impatience driv'n to rove , Vex'd with the pangs of ill-requited love , From pole to pole the fatal arrow bears , Whose rooted point his bleeding bosom tears , With equal pain each diff'rent clime he tries , And is himself that torment which he flies . For how shou'd ills , that from our passions flow , Be chang'd by Afric's heat , or Russia's snow ? Or how can aught but pow'rful Reason cure , What from unthinking Folly we endure ? Happy is He , and He alone , who knows His heart's uneasy discord to compose ; In gen'rous love of others' good to find The sweetest pleasures of the social mind ; To bound his wishes in their proper sphere ; To nourish pleasing hope , and conquer anxious fear , This was the wisdom ancient Sages taught , This was the sov'reign good they justly sought ; This to no place or climate is confin'd , But the free native produce of the mind . Nor think , my Lord , that Courts to you deny The useful practice of Philosophy : Horace , the wisest of the tuneful choir , Not always chose from Greatness to retire , But in the palace of Augustus knew The same unnerring maxims to pursue , Which in the Sabine or the Velian shade His study and his happiness he made . May you , my friend , by his example taught , View all the giddy scene with sober thought ; Undazzled every glittering folly see , And in the midst of slavish forms be free ; In its own center keep your steddy mind ; Let Prudence guide you , but let Honour bind ; In show , in manners , act the Courtier's part , But be a Country-gentleman at heart .