COUNTESS OP WINCHILSEA ���173 ���Whilst every Torture, gloomy Poets paint, �Was there prepar'd for the reputed Saint. �Amaz'd at this, the sleeping Turk enquires, �Why He that liv'd above, in soft Attires, �Now roll'd in Bliss, while t'other roll'd in Fires ? �We're taught the Suff' rings of this Future State, 30 �Th' Excess of Courts is likeliest to create; �Whilst solitary Cells, o'ergrown with Shade, �The readiest way to Paradise is made. �True, quoth the Phantom (which he dream'd reply'd) �The lonely Path is still the surest Guide, �Nor is it by these Instances deny'd. �For, know my Friend, whatever Fame report, �The Vizier to Retirements wou'd Resort, �Th' ambitious Dervis wou'd frequent the Court. ���THE SHEPHERD PIPING TO THE FISHES �A Shepherd seeking with his Lass �To shun the Heat of Day ; Was seated on the shadow' d Grass, Near which a flowing Stream did pass, �And Fish within it play. �To Phillis he an Angle gave, �And bid her toss the Line ; For sure, quoth he, each Fish must have, Who do's not seek to be thy Slave, �A harder Heart than mine. �Assemble here you watry Race, �Transportedly he cries; And if, when you behold her Face, You e'er desire to quit the Place, �You see not with my Eyes. ��� �
