Strephon's Complaint on quitting his Retirement.

I.

BUsiness! — Oh stay till I recover Breath,
Th'astonishing Word puts my maz'd Spirits to Flight;
Business to me sounds terrible as Death,
As Death to Lovers on their Bridal Night.
Free as Air, but more Serene,
The Series of my Life has been;
But I uncustom'd to the yoak, must now
In stubborn Harness toil at the dull Plow.

II.

Then farewell Happiness, Repose farewell!
You come not where poor Strephon must Reside '
For you like Halcyons on calm Waters dwell,
But Business is a rough and troubled Tide.
Few Suns have ris'n since I was Blest,
Of God like Liberty possest;
But Slave t'Employment now without Repose
I'm (Ghost-like) hurry'd where my Daemon goes.

III.

But Business to Preferment will direct,
And 'tis ev'n necessary to be Great.
Ah have I then no more than this t'expect?
My stinted Hopes will starve on such thin meat.
Impertinents! Content I crave,
And wildly you of Grandieur Rave!
If Life's at best a tedious rugged Road,
What must it be with Grandieur's cumbring Load?

IV.

Condemn'd to th' Town-Noise and Impertinence,
Where Mode and Ceremony I must view!
Yet were the sight all Strephon cou'd dispense,
But He must there be Ceremonious too.
I fear my rural Soul's too plain
To Learn the Towns dissembling strein;
For whilst I practize the slie Courtiers Art,
I shall forget my self, and speak my Heart. 

V.

When first th' unwelcome Tidings I receiv'd,
Summon'd to bid my peaceful shades Adieu;
Scarce was I by my Fellow-Swains believ'd,
'Till streaming Tears prov'd my sad story True.
Then pensive they my Doom resent,
As 'twere to Death or Banishment;
But oh my Panalthaea's passionate moan
Surpast her Sexes kindness, and her own. 

VI.

Thus spake She with a forc't frown on her Brow,
Will you be gone? false Strephon, will you go?
Then go thy way; go, for I Hate thee now!
But tell me, are you serious Swain, or no?
This is some new-found wile to prove
(Ridiculous Jealousie!) my Love:
But whilst of mine this feign'd suspect is shown,
You wou'd suggest that you've renounc'd your Own. 

VII.

Thy Love chast Nymph deep in my Breast I laid,
When first the precious Pledge I did receive,
Nor have I thence the sacred store convey'd,
Here, force the Cabinet ope and you'l believe!
You'l see with what a bleeding Heart,
From these dear Shades and thee I part;
But rig'rous Fate — then on her Virgin Breast
I lean'd my drooping Head, and wept the Rest. 

VIII.

Oh Floods and Groves, beneath whose sacred shade
I've sat as Happy as first Mortals were;
For when Distractions did my breast invade,
Some rapt'rous Shepheard's Song redrest my Care.
But 'bove the Flights of other Swains
I priz'd my Astragon's soft streins;
For (Turtle-like) my pensive Astragon
Is sweetly Sad and charming in his Moan.