Near some fair Town, I'd have a private Seat.
Built Uniform, not little, nor too great:
Better if on a rising Ground it stood;
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'er endure
The needless Pomp of Gaudy Furniture.
A little Garden, grateful to the Eye,
And a Cool Rivulet run murm'ring by:
On whose delicious Banks a stately Row
Of Shady Limes, or Sycamores should grow.
At th' End of which a silent Study plac'd,
Shou'd be with all the Noblest Authors Grac'd.
, and , in whose mighty Lines
Immortal Wit, and Solid Learning shines.
Sharp , and Am'rous  too,
Who all the Turns of Love's soft Passion 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 Exprest 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.