AN ELEGY UPON STEPHEN DUCK. 

In murmuring Strains, I lately heard it Said,
 The Muse's Darling, Reverend Duck is dead. 
Impartial Death by one untimely blow
 Has snatch'd away from Mortals here below,
 That wond'rous Man, in whom alone did join
 A Thresher, Poet, Courtier, and Divine. 
And while a Labourer of mean degree,
 The Ornament, and Grace of Poverty
 Upon that State in high and lofty Rhime,
 Bravely attempts Parnassus's Hill to Clime;
 And quickly after by Fame's loud Report,
 Remov'd from his lowly Cot and call'd to Court. 
A Gracious Queen being charm'd with the Lyre,
 While Noble Peers his Nat'ral parts Admire;
 Advanc'd, caress'd, and favour'd more and more,
 Nor ceased till the Rev'rend Gown he wore. 
Immortal Duck how happy hadst thou been
 Belov'd by Lords Respected by a Queen? 
How doubly Blest couldst thou have kept with thee,
 The sweet companion of thy Poverty? 
That true content and inward peace of mind,
 Which in thy humble Cottage thou didst find. 
Which oft doth to the poor and mean retreat
 But seldom dwells among the Rich, or Great. 
The want of wit thy pleasure turnd to pain,
 Thy Life a Burthen, and thy Death a Stain:
 So have I Seen in a fair Summers Morn,
 Bright Phoebus's Beams the Hills and Dales adorn,
 With Flow'rs and Shrubs their fragrant Sweets display,
 And Warbling Birds foretell a Chearfull Day:
 When on a Sudden some dark Clouds arise,
 Obscures the Sun and overspreads the Skies;
 The Birds are Silent, plants contract their bloom,
 The Glorious Day ends in a dismal gloom.