blest

There all men may be cured, whene'er they please,

Would ye be blest? despise low joys, low gains; }

Disdain whatever Cornbury disdains; }

Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest!

Blest in thy genius, in thy love, too, blest!

One grateful woman to thy fame supplies

As show'd vice had his hate and pity too.

Blest courtier! who could king and country please,

Yet sacred keep his friendships, and his ease.

May truly say, Here lies an honest man:

A poet, blest beyond the poet's fate,

Whom Heaven kept sacred from the proud and great:

Here rests a woman, good without pretence,

Blest with plain reason, and with sober sense:

No conquests she, but o'er herself, desired,

Blest, who can unconcern'dly find

Hours, days, and years slide soft away, 10

Which winds and lightning both at once assail.

We were too blest with these enchanting lays,

Which must be heavenly when an angel plays:

In every place is sought, but sought in vain:

With such a prize no mortal must be blest,

So Heaven decrees! with Heaven who can contest?