TO THE Hon. WILMOT VAUGHAN, Esq; in WALES. Francis Coventry Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T131163 K104099.004 Dodsley, Robert, 1703-1764. A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands. Vol. IV. London printed by J. Hughs, for R. and J. Dodsley 1763 [1st ed. 1758] pp. 61-63. 6v.: music; 8⁰.

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TO THE Hon. WILMOT VAUGHAN , Esq ; in WALES . By the Same . YE distant realms that hold my friend Beneath a cold ungenial sky , Where lab'ring groves with weight of vapours bend , Or raving winds o'er barren mountains fly ; Restore him quick to London's social clime , Restore him quick to friendship , love and joy ; Be swift , ye lazy steeds of Time , Ye moments , all your speed employ . Behold November's glooms arise , Pale suns with fainter glory shine , Dark gathering tempests blacken in the skies , And shiv'ring woods their sickly leaves resign . Is this a time on Cambrian hills to roam , To court disease in Winter's baleful reign , To listen to th' Atlantic foam , While rocks repel the roaring main , While horror fills the region vast , Rheumatic tortures Eurus brings , Pregnant with agues flies the northern blast , And clouds drop quartans from their flagging wings . Dost thou explore Sabrina's sountful source , Where huge Plinlimmon's hoary height ascends : Then downward mark her vagrant course , Till mix'd with clouds the landscape ends ? Dost thou revere the hallow'd soil Where Druids old sepulchred lie ; Or up cold Snowden's craggy summits toil , And muse on ancient savage liberty ? Ill suit such walks with bleak autumnal air , Say , can November yield the joys of May ? When Jove deforms the blasted year , Can Wallia boast a chearful day ? The town expects thee . — Hark , around , Thro' every street of gay resort , New chariots rattle with awak'ning sound , And crowd the levees , and besiege the court . The patriot , kindling as his wars ensue , Now fires his soul with liberty and fame , Marshals his threat'ning tropes anew , And gives his hoarded thunders aim . Now seats their absent lords deplore , Neglected villas empty stand , Capacious Gro'venor gathers all its store , And mighty London swallows up the land . See sportive Vanity her flights begin , See new-blown Folly's plenteous harvest rise , She mimick beauties dye their skin , And harlots roll their venal eyes . Fashions are set , and fops return , And young coquettes in arms appear ; Dreaming of conquest , how their bosoms burn , Trick'd in the new fantastry of the year . Fly then away , nor scorn to bear a part In this gay scene of folly amply spread : Follies well us'd refine the heart , And pleasures clear the studious head ; By grateful interchange of mirth The toils of study sweeter grow , As varying seasons recommend the earth , Nor does Apollo always bend his bow .