The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and Ireland (1753) Volume III Part 19

3. Several Epistles to his Friends under affliction.

4. Upon the Divine Attributes.

5. A Prospect of Death.

5. Upon the General Conflagration, and the ensuing Judgment. There were two pieces of our author's, published after his death by his friend Philalethes; the first of these ent.i.tled Reason, was wrote by him in the year 1700, when the debates concerning the doctrine of the Trinity were carried on with so much heat by the Clergy one against another, that the royal authority was interposed in order to put an end to a controversy, which could never be settled, and which was pernicious in its consequences. This is a severe satire, upon one of the parties engaged in that dispute, but his not inserting it amongst his other poems when he collected them into a volume, was, on account of his having received very particular favours, from some of the persons therein mentioned. The other is ent.i.tled Dies Novissima, or the Last Epiphany, a Pindaric Ode on Christ's second Appearance to judge the World. In this piece the poet expresses much heart-felt piety: It is animated, if not with a poetical, at least with so devout a warmth, that as the Guardian has observed of Divine Poetry, 'We shall find a kind of refuge in our pleasure, and our diversion will become our safety.'

This is all the account we are favoured with of the life and writings of Mr. Pomfret: A man not dest.i.tute either of erudition or genius, of unexceptionable morals, though exposed to the malice of antagonists. As he was a prudent man, and educated to a profession, he was not subject to the usual necessities of the poets, but his sphere being somewhat obscure, and his life unactive, there are few incidents recorded concerning him. If he had not fortune sufficient to render him conspicuous, he had enough to keep his life innocent, which he seems to have spent in ease and tranquillity, a situation much more to be envied than the highest blaze of fame, attended with racking cares, and innumerable sollicitudes.

The CHOICE.

If Heav'n the grateful liberty would give, That I might chuse my method how to live.

And all those hours propitious fate should lend, In blissful ease and satisfaction spend,

Near some fair town I'd have a private seat, Built uniform; not little, nor too great: Better if on a rising ground it flood On this side fields, on that a neighb'ring wood.

It should within no other things contain, But what were useful, necessary, plain: Methinks 'tis nauseous, and I'd ne'r endure The needless pomp of gawdy furniture.

A little garden, grateful to the eye, And a cool rivulet run murm'ring by: On whose delicious banks a slately row Of shady Lymes or Sycamores should grow.

At th' end of which a silent study plac'd, Should be with all the n.o.blest authors grac'd.

Horace and Virgil, in whose mighty lines Immortal wit and solid learning shines.

Sharp Juvenal, and am'rous Ovid too, Who all the turns of love's soft pa.s.sion knew: He that with judgment reads his charming lines, In which strong art with stronger nature joins, Must grant his fancy, does the best excel; His thoughts so tender, and express'd so well.

With all those moderns, men of steady sense, Esteem'd for learning, and for eloquence.

In some of these, as fancy should advise.

I'd always take my morning exercise: For sure no minutes bring us more content, Than those in pleasing, useful studies spent.

I'd have a clear, and competent estate, That I might live genteely, but not great: As much as I could moderately spend, A little more, sometimes t' oblige a friend.

Nor should the sons of poverty repine Too much at fortune, they should taste of mine; And all that objects of true pity were Should be reliev'd with what my wants could spare: For that, our Maker has too largely giv'n, Should be return'd, in grat.i.tude to Heav'n, A frugal plenty mould my table spread; With healthy, not luxurious, dimes fed: Enough to satisfy, and something more To feed the stranger, and the neighb'ring poor: Strong meat indulges vice, and pamp'ring food Creates diseases, and inflames the blood.

But what's sufficient to make nature strong, And the bright lamp of life continue long, I'd freely take, and, as I did possess, The bounteous author of my plenty bless.

I'd have a little vault, but always stor'd With the best wines each vintage could afford.

Wine whets the wit, improves its native force, And gives a pleasant flavour to discourse: By making all our spirits debonair, Throws off the lees, the sediment of care, But as the greatest blessing Heav'n lends, May be debauch'd and serve ign.o.ble ends: So, but too oft, the Grape's refreshing juice Does many mischievous effects produce.

My house should no such rude disorders know, As from high drinking consequently flow: Nor would I use what was so kindly giv'n To the dishonour of indulgent Heav'n.

If any neighbour came, he should be free, Us'd with respect, and not uneasy be, In my retreat, or to himself or me.

What freedom, prudence, and right reason give, All men may with impunity receive: But the least swerving from their rule's too much; For what's forbidden us, 'tis death to touch.

That life might be more comfortable yet, And all my joys resin'd, sincere, and great; I'd chuse two friends, whose company would be A great advance to my felicity.

Well born, of humour suited to my own; Discreet, and men, as well as books, have known.

Brave, gen'rous, witty, and exactly free From loose behaviour, or formality.

Airy, and prudent, merry, but not light; Quick in discerning, and in judging right.

Secret they should be, faithful to their trust; In reas'ning cool, strong, temperate, and just.

Obliging, open, without huffing, brave, Brisk in gay talking, and in sober, grave.

Close in dispute, but not tenacious; try'd By solid reason, and let that decide.

Not p.r.o.ne to l.u.s.t, revenge, or envious hate; Nor busy medlers with intrigues of state.

Strangers to slander, and sworn foes to spight: Not quarrelsome, but stout enough to fight.

Loyal, and pious, friends to Caesar, true As dying martyrs, to their Maker too.

In their society I could not miss A permanent, sincere, substantial bliss.

Would bounteous Heav'n once more indulge; I'd chuse (For who would so much satisfaction, lose, As witty nymphs in conversation, give) Near some obliging, modest fair to live; For there's that sweetness in a female mind, Which in a man's we cannot hope to find: That by a secret, but a pow'rful art, Winds up the springs of life, and does impart Fresh vital heat, to the transported heart.

I'd have her reason all her pa.s.sions sway; Easy in company, in private gay: Coy to a fop, to the deserving free, Still constant to herself, and just to me.

A soul she should have, for great actions fit; Prudence and wisdom to direct her wit: Courage to look bold danger in the face, No fear, but only to be proud, or base: Quick to advise, by an emergence prest, To give good counsel, or to take the best.

I'd have th' expression of her thoughts be such She might not seem reserv'd, nor talk too much.

That shew a want of judgment and of sense: More than enough is but impertinence.

Her conduct regular, her mirth resin'd, Civil to strangers to her neighbours kind, Averte to vanity, revenge, and pride, In all the methods of deceit untry'd.

So faithful to her friend, and good to all, No censure might upon her actions fall: Then would e'en envy be compell'd to say, She goes the least of woman kind astray.

To this fair creature I'd sometimes retire, Her conversation would new joys inspire; Give life an edge so keen, no surly care Would venture to a.s.sault my soul, or dare Near my retreat to hide one secret snare.

But so divine, so n.o.ble a repast I'd seldom, and with moderation taste, For highest cordials all their virtue lose By a too frequent, and too bold an use: And what would cheer the spirit in distress; Ruins our health, when taken to excess.

I'd be concern'd in no litigious jar, Belov'd by all, not vainly popular.

Whate'er a.s.sistance I had pow'r to bring T' oblige my country, or to serve my King, Whene'er they call'd, I'd readily afford My tongue, my pen, my counsel, or my sword.

Law suits I'd shun, with as much studious care, As I would dens where hungry lions are: And rather put up injuries, than be A plague to him, who'd be a plague to me.

I value quiet at a price too great, To give for my revenge so dear a rate: For what do we by all our bustle gain, But counterfeit delight, for real pain;

If Heav'n a date of many years would give, Thus I'd in pleasure, ease, and plenty live.

And as I near approach'd the verge of life, Some kind relation (for I'd have no wife) Should take upon him all my worldly care, While I did for a better state prepare.

Then I'd not be with any trouble vex'd; Nor have the evening of my days perplex'd.

But by a silent, and a peaceful death, Without a sigh, resign my aged breath: And when committed to the dust, I'd have Few tears, but friendly, dropt into my grave.

Then would my exit so propitious be, All men would wish to live and die, like me.

The LIFE of

Dr. WILLIAM KING.

This ingenious gentleman, was son of Ezekiel King, of London. He received the rudiments of his education in Westminster-school, under Dr. Busby, and was removed from thence to Christ's-Church in Oxford, in Michaelmas term, 1681, when at the age of eighteen. He studied the civil law, and practiced it at Doctor's Commons, with very great reputation; but the natural gaiety of his temper, and the love of company, betrayed him into those pleasures, which were incompatible with his profession.

Our author, by the reputation of his abilities obtained a patron in the earl of Pembroke, who upon his being appointed lord Lieutenant of Ireland, press'd him to go over to that kingdom.

Upon Dr. King's arrival in Ireland, his excellency appointed him judge advocate, sole commissioner of the prizes, and record keeper. There, he was well received, and countenanced by persons of the most distinguished rank, and could he have changed his disposition with the climate, had then an opportunity of making his fortune; but so far was he from improving this occasion to the purposes of his interest, that he returned back to England, with no other treasure, than a few merry Poems, and humorous Essays. He was naturally of a courteous behaviour, and very obliging: His conversation was chearful, and his wit pleasant and entertaining. But at length he chiefly subsisted on his fellowship in Christ-Church College: Before this time, he had published his most ingenious Poem, called the Art of Cookery, in imitation of Horace's Art of Poetry, with some Letters to Dr. Lister and others; occasioned princ.i.p.ally by the t.i.tle of a book, published by the Dr. being the works of Apicius Coelius, concerning the soups and sauces of the ancients, with an extract of the greatest curiosities contained in that book.

Amongst his Letters, is one upon the Denti Scalps, or Tooth-picks of the Antients: Another contains an imitation of Horace: Epist. 5. Book I.

being his invitation of Torquatus to supper. And a third, contains remarks on lord Grimston's play, called the Lawyer's Fortune; or Love in a Hollow-Tree.

At his leisure hours he wrote likewise, The Art of Love, an imitation of Ovid, De Arte Amandi. To which he prefixed an account of Ovid. In the latter part of his life, about the year 1711, he published an Historical Account of the Heathen G.o.ds, and Heroes, for the use of Westminster, and other schools; for the better and more easy understanding of the Cla.s.sics. Besides these performances, we likewise find three numbers of a project, ent.i.tled, the Transactioner, or, Useful Transactions: Containing a great number of small pieces, which it would be tedious here to enumerate.[1]

We have already observed, that our author while in Ireland, neglected the best opportunity of encreasing his fortune; and the circ.u.mstance which occasioned it we find to be this: He had contracted an intimacy which soon grew into friendship, with judge Upton, a man of the same temper with himself, who delighted in retirement and poetical amus.e.m.e.nt.

He had a country villa called Mountown, near Dublin, where he and Dr.

King used to retire, and spend most of their time without any regard to their public offices; and by these means neglecting to pay court to the lord lieutenant, they fell under his displeasure. These two poetical companions, indulged no other thoughts but those of living and dying in their rural retreat. Upon this occasion, Dr. King wrote a Pastoral Poem, called Mully of Mountown: Mully was the name of a Red-Cow which gave him milk, whom he made the chief subject of his Poem; which at that time the critics would have imposed upon the word as a political allegory, tho' this was a manner of writing, with which the Dr. was totally unacquainted.

When Dr. King, after his return from Ireland, had retired to live upon his fellowship at Oxford, he was sollicited by the earl of Anglesey to come to town, and undertake a cause of his, then before the House of Lords, (in relation to some cruelties he was accused of using to his lady) back'd by the violent prosecution of his mother-in-law, the countess of Dorchester. Upon this occasion the Doctor shook off the indolence of his nature, and so strenuously engaged in the cause of his patron, that he gained the reputation of an able lawyer as well as a poet. He naturally hated business, especially that of an advocate; but when appointed as a delegate, made a very discerning and able judge, yet never could bear the fatigue of wrangling. His chief pleasure consisted in trifles, and he was never happier, than when hid from the world. Few people pleased him in conversation, and it was a proof of his liking them, if his behaviour was tolerably agreeable. He was a great dissembler of his natural temper, which was fallen, morose, and peevish, where he durst shew it; but he was of a timorous disposition and the least slight or neglect offered to him, would throw him into a melancholy despondency. He was apt to say a great many ill-natur'd things, but was never known to do one: He was made up of tenderness, pity, and compa.s.sion; and of so feminine a disposition, that tears would fall from his eyes upon the smallest occasion.

As his education had been strict, so he was always of a religious disposition, and would not enter upon the business of the day, till he had performed his devotion, and read several portions of scripture out of the Psalms, the Prophets, and the New-Testament.

It appears from his loose papers, which he calls Adversaria, that he had been such an arduous student, that before he was eight-years in the university, he had read over and made reflections on twenty-two thousand books and ma.n.u.scripts; a few of which, we shall give as specimen, in order to let the reader into the humour and taste of our author.

'Diogenes Laertius, Book I.----Thales, being asked how a man might most easily brook misfortunes? answered, if he saw his enemies in a worse condition. It is not agreed, concerning the wis.e.m.e.n; or whether indeed they were seven.'

'There is a very good letter of Pisistratus to Solon, and of the same stile and character with those of Phalaris.'