The
Retreat
.
Adieu
to
all
the
splendid
Gallantry
,
Complaisant
Pleasures
,
modish
Gaiety
;
Airy
Delights
,
imaginary
Joys
,
Fashions
,
Entertainments
,
Wit
and
Noise
;
To
all
the
Follies
of
my
former
State
,
All
that's
Genteel
,
or
Popular
,
or
Great
.
I'll
move
no
longer
in
this
gaudy
Sphear
,
I've
been
gaz'd
at
enough
,
'tis
time
to
disappear
.
Without
Concern
,
I'll
leave
the
glittering
Seat
;
No
,
not
the
softest
Sigh
shall
sound
retreat
,
Lest
Fate
should
over-hear
,
mistrust
my
Flight
,
Pursue
me
now
,
and
so
undo
me
quite
.
In
these
soft
Shades
,
I
no
Misfortune
fear
,
For
she
will
never
think
to
find
me
here
;
My
Joys
,
shall
be
by
her
no
more
betray'd
,
I'll
cheat
her
now
,
in
this
kind
Masquerade
;
While
she
in
Noise
and
Crowds
doth
search
for
me
I'll
lie
serene
in
safe
Obscurity
.
A
silent
Village
doth
more
Pleasures
yield
,
Or
harmless
Sports
of
the
delightful
Field
;
Then
all
the
pageant
Glories
of
a
Throne
,
Luxurious
Pleasures
of
the
wanton
Town
.
Here
is
the
Copy
of
lost
Paradice
,
The
pure
and
spotless
Quintessence
of
Bliss
:
All
the
safe
Pastimes
Mankind
can
enjoy
,
Which
Innocence
delight
,
but
not
destroy
:
Here
I
am
blest
in
these
secure
Abodes
,
As
once
in
Shades
were
the
retiring
Gods
:
These
silvan
Joys
know
no
surprizing
Strife
,
This
is
to
live
,
whilst
others
spend
a
Life
:
Here
is
the
Summum
Bonum
of
the
Earth
,
Here
the
renowned
Poets
had
their
Birth
;
Or
hither
,
from
the
noisy
World
retir'd
,
Here
their
great
Souls
,
with
noble
Raptures
fir'd
.
Philosophers
of
old
,
in
Solitude
,
Their
own
resisting
Passions
first
subdu'd
;
Then
with
good
Precepts
civiliz'd
the
Rude
:
They
knew
a
Court
or
City
would
molest
The
calm
Conceptions
of
a
studious
Breast
.
Here
the
Mautuan
Swain
gain'd
all
his
Bays
To
Solitude
his
unmatch'd
Pen
doth
raise
,
Disserved
Trophies
of
immortal
Praise
.
How
many
Monarchs
weary
of
their
State
,
Have
quit
their
Glories
for
a
mean
retreat
;
Thought
silent
Shades
far
happier
than
Thrones
,
That
Garlands
sat
much
easier
than
Crowns
.
Then
why's
the
wond'ring
World
amaz'd
at
me
,
For
leaving
Fraud
and
Infidelity
?
The
poor
mistaken
World
who
places
Joys
In
splendid
Popularity
and
Noise
,
When
after
all
it's
Search
it
must
conclude
,
'Tis
in
a
Friend
,
and
well-chose
Solitude
.