THE Scene's Changed. A POEM. Dedicated to a FRIEND.  
Quod spiro, & placeo (si placeo) tuum est.  HORACE. 
LONDON, Printed for W. HAWES, at the Rose in Ludgate-Street; and Sold by John Nutt, near Stationers-Hall, 1700.   

THE Scene's Changed, etc.  
SIR,  

BY all that does our Solemn Friendship bind,  
I'll freely tell the Secrets of my Mind;  
I'll tell, what no Man ever yet has known,  
Except the sad Deserters of the Town.  
I'll curse no Fortune, nor I'll blame no Fate;  
Happy I was, tho' wretched now too late.  
I only beg the favour but to read  
The rambling Thoughts of a deceased Head;  
And if you find I've Thought and Writ in vain,  
Impute the Dullness to a fancied Pain.   

You needs must know how often I confess,  
My Life's like Satyrs in a Wilderness,  
Or rather, (Sir, I speak it in a Rage)  
Like doleful Owls, but in a larger Cage.  
You knew the Briskness of my Youthful Days,  
Careless of blushing Shame I was, and Praise:  
I never acted or suspected Ill,  
Bravely I checked th' Impetus of Will.  
One Passion, I must own, I ever had,  
I Loved excessively, and that was bad.  
Not that I blame the Passion; for who can  
Live without gentle Love, and yet be Man?  
'Tis this that keeps the Universe so well,  
And nothing but the want of this makes Hell.  
It is not Love, but furious Lust that kills,  
And has created all the spreading Ills.  
For certain 'tis, that Well-intended Love  
Is entertained by Joyful Saints above:  
And if our Happiness consists in this,  
Here we begin to taste Eternal Bliss.   

Besides all this, you know how I was bred,  
And what an easy state of Life I've led.  
How many Classic Authors have we read,  
And awkard, humdrum Verses made?   

From Playful School to the Dear Muse's Seat,  
You must remember, was my next Retreat:  
Here first I furnished my craving Mind  
With all the crabbed Logic I could find.  
With sturdy Arguments I could Dispute,  
Affirm, Deny, Object, and then Confute.  
Improved by this, I found myself grow bold,  
But soon left off; for Logic, I was told,  
Was fit for nothing but to make Men scold.  
Then I experienced pregnant Nature's Laws,  
And found, there's no Effect without a Cause.  
Matter could not by Matter first be moved,  
And, without Outward Impulse, must have stood;  
That senseless flowing Atoms ne'er could join,  
To form a World so tightly fine.  
What wretched Folly 'tis to think, by Chance  
They could into stupendous Order dance!  
If stupid Matter any Creature made,  
Why does it leave its old Creating trade?  
Why does not still the fertile, moistened Earth  
To Serpents, Cows, and Birds, and Men give birth!  
Some would allow the World Eternity;  
Others, not knowing Secret Causes, fly  
To Depths of Intricate Antipathy.  
Nothing was here, that led beyond the Grave;  
Nothing, that solid Satisfaction gave.   

To sober Ethics next I was inclined,  
Where I might Nature's true Religion find.  
All the Philosophers were here at odds,  
Some were for One, but most for many Gods:  
Good and Evil there were but few could state,  
While some affirmed Irrevocable Fate.  
As for the Active Soul, some would agree  
'Twas a bright Spark of the Divinity.  
But all the wild, licentious Rabble were  
For proving it would vanish into Air,  
To cure the dull Distemper of Despair.  
Stoics had Wisdom, but no common Sense;  
Words, not hard Blows, on them had influence.  
To talk of darling Pleasures 'twas in vain;  
On Racks they were insensible of Pain.  
Virtue and lawless Vice distinguished were  
To keep the Mobb within the bounds of Fear.  
Some did imagine future, pleasing Groves,  
Where they might satisfy their wanton Loves,  
And revel there in undisturbed Delight,  
Free from the blushes of the sinning Night.  
Elizium's Fields were Virtuous men's Reward,  
Who always did strict Innocence regard.  
As for the Wicked, they had no Relief,  
But to their Crimes proportionable Grief;  
In deep Sulphureous Caves the Wretches lie,  
Burnt, for atrocious Ills, eternally.  
Here we may view sad Sisyphus' Stone,  
With endless motion rolling up and down.  
There, in a gentle gliding River, stands  
The Babbler, without use of Mouth or Hands;  
The Charming Apples to his Lips are cast,  
Which always cheat his reaching, eager Taste:  
He suffers by that Organon of Sense  
By which he gave the shamefullest Offence.   

From graver Morals, to Astronomy  
Was the next course of my Philosophy.  
Nothing of these could satisfy my Mind,  
For Orders and a Gown I was designed.  
To Read the Sacred Volumes was my care,  
And know what Sense the nicest Words would bear.  
Some pious System I did next digest,  
'Twas that which Dr. B— t said was best.  
Thus furnished for Preaching and a Gown,  
I left the College, and repaired to Town.   

I'll tell the reason freely, without heat,  
Why I so quickly left the Muses Seat.  
Near famous , in a Corner stands  
A sneaking Coll. which a Great Don Commands,  
Whose Native Parts were always counted good,  
And ever was esteemed true Flesh and Blood:  
Besides all this, you needs must know him well,  
For formerly he bore away the Bell.  
But after all, an Enemy must own  
How oft extensive Learning he has shown,  
And still remains an Honour to the Gown.  
Ill natured Feuds here many Years had reigned,  
And worse Ills its Reputation stained,  
For Calvin's Principles are here maintained.  
Calvin, who in a Chagrin Fit could tell,  
Some were decreed eternally to Hell;  
As if his Pre-existent Soul could see  
The Secret Acts of the Mysterious Three.  
Our private Statutes wholesome Rules contained,  
And All, to Uniformity restrained.  
It was the pious Founder's settled Care,  
T'oblige us all to Sacraments and Prayer.  
These holy Duties long neglected were,  
And not observed by S—ne— once a Year.  
This made the Active Members stir betimes,  
To give a check to aggravated Crimes.  
The delegated Powers heard the Cause,  
And some could see the open breach of Laws;  
But shuffling Favour, and a civil Treat,  
Made them forgive Offences, though so great.  
This was the cause that A— r and Tom H— ne  
Have since incurred the angry Master's Scorn.  
But this I truly wish, they both may live  
To be forgiven, as they both forgive.  
After these Civil Heats began to cool,  
I went to Oxford, from the weary School.  
Then 'twas my willing Freedom did commence,  
And tender Passions hardened into Sense.  
Not that I thought myself above Command,  
As soon as clothed with decent Gown and Band.  
No, constantly the Exercise I kept,  
And seldom, as the Reading Chaplain, slept:  
My Tutor's formal Lectures I observed,  
And from his kind Directions seldom swerved.  
Not that I give him Thanks for all his Care,  
That were enough to make a Calvin swear:  
For he'd have had me read in B— ter's Call,  
With other Works as dull and whimsical.  
Once Hammond did his heavy Censure feel,  
And Pool, he said, excelled him by a deal.  
To keep Slichtingius or Grotius, had been  
Expulsion from his Favour, and a Sin.  
In short, the Books and Company I chose,  
First caused the Feuds that afterwards arose,  
For both alike did Calvin's Rules oppose.  
After Commencement of my first Degree,  
I dreamt of nothing else but Liberty:  
But soon discerned another Act and Scene,  
For I was subject to a surly Dean.  
In truth, I must confess, he could Dispute,  
And only thus distinguished was from Brute.  
His dogged Temper quickly might be read,  
To Fetch and Carry always he was bread.  
What Complaisance, what Manners can we have,  
From one that was, and still remains a Slave?  
I can't forbear to lash him with my Pen;  
And if I hear he frowns, I'll do't again.  
He, with the rest of the inglorious Crowd,  
Like rising Vapours thickened into Cloud,  
With the most opprobrious, hateful Spite,  
Eclipsed from me the MastersMasters pleasing Light.  
I soon perceived the Faction would prevail;  
For Power, Pride and Envy seldom fail.  
In threatening Words their Fury first appeared;  
And since I could not love, they would be feared.  
With smaller Mulcts they punished my Purse,  
Bell, Book and Candle was too kind a Curse.  
When I was Sick, more Sconces you might see,  
Than five times told my skilful Doctor's Fee.  
'Tis Usage met with no where but in Hell,  
Where none but Damned are constrained to dwell.  
Thus among cruel Indians, Authors say,  
'Twas Death to be Disordered but one day.  
No Submission, no Repentance pleased,  
But pay I must, and did, and so was eased.  
A heavy Charge was levelled at my Name,  
Slily designed to blast my former Fame.  
The Embryo Project I too soon perceived,  
And quickly found a way to be relieved.  
No Fellowship I could expect; for Fools  
Were Fellows, Tutors made, and Servile Tools.  
This was the time I pitched on to retreat;  
This was my only fault, but not so great.  
If I made too much haste, let no one blame  
A Man that shuns a sure destroying Flame.  
Does he deserve Rebuke, that thus prefers  
A quiet Evil to intestine Jars?  
Happy's the Man, I envy his Remove,  
That flies from shameful Feuds, and then to Love!  
I saw my Freedom grad'ally impaired,  
And boldly ran into the Ills I feared,  
(If I may call 'em Ills; for no one can  
Well live without what chief makes up Man.)  
Thus shunning Scylla, we Carybdis hit;  
And when we think we're safe, we soon split.   

Now to divert your Mind, and change the Scene,  
I'll tell you where I ever since have been;  
What Life I've led, and how I have been tossed,  
Like Virgil's Spark, from Pillar unto Post.  
When first I came to Town, this was my case,  
I soon procured a drudging Reader's Place.  
This step was much below my soaring Mind,  
But was the first Advancement I could find.  
So feeble Children creep at first, and then  
Use swister Limbs as they grow abler Men.   

The next Adventure of my roving Life,  
Was the wise Choice of a true Virtuous Wife.  
If ever Fortune smiled it must be when  
I loved the Kindred of an Ox— den;  
A Name that Loyal Kent has always known  
True to its Country, and the Sacred Gown.  
Happy a while I did enjoy this State,  
Till I was urged by a severer Fate,  
To leave too soon, what I enjoyed too late.  
Not that I do repent, or ever shall,  
For sure my Happiness is not so small.  
That must the highest pitch of Madness be,  
To care, and wish, for no Felicity.   

Long did my labouring Mind with Hopes contrive  
An easier, and better way to thrive,  
Not that I am so very fond to live.  
Then I resolved, not fearing a Disgrace,  
To change my Reader's, for a Chaplain's Place:  
For this I pay my Thanks to Captain B— g,  
True to his Friend, his Country, and his King;  
Who now, with equal Justice on the Shore  
Obliges, as he did at Sea before.  
The floating Castle, that was now my home,  
Was justly valued, for its spacious Room.  
It's handsome, stately Form, when first surveyed,  
Made English Sailors smile, the French afraid.  
How briskly would she stem the swelling Tide!  
Well poised on Starboard and the Larboard-side.  
The well-rigged Orford seemed as if she'd raise  
The Conquering Jennings to a Russel's Praise.  
Under his Conduct who would sneak from Death?  
Or grudge for such a Man his parting Breath?  
Jennings! who knows the British Seas as well  
As peevish Read the way from North to Deal.  
No Man of War has ever made him strike,  
And few Commanders dare affirm the like:  
Always so civil to an Enemy,  
Who seldom grieved to lose the Victory.  
His friendly Favours I must not forget,  
And for Returns I can't be out of debt.  
So moral Bankrupts willingly Compound,  
And wish that they could pay the utmost Pound.  
My farthest Voyage was the Downs, and there  
I rid the sweetest part of all the Year.  
From the high Deck 'twas easy to command  
A pleasing Prospect of the neighbouring Land.  
On t'other side the Objects of the Eye  
Were only foaming Seas, and azure Sky.  
The Southern View presents the  Shore,  
Where easily they hear our Cannons roar;  
And there the humble French with trembling fear  
Our Guns or Fight Men should come too near.  
Here the wide Harbour fitly can contain  
The largest Fleet that triumphs on the Main.  
Here you may see the crowded Ships, while some  
Are leaving, gladly others sailing home.  
The British Squadron here for Orders waits,  
To carry welcome Peace to foreign States.  
The Ships that come from the most distant Shore  
Respectfully salute the Commodore:  
Who with Unequal Volleys does reply,  
To show who holds the chief Authority.  
Here the wide Rhutupian Shore is seen,  
Where famous Caesar's Arms had conqur'ing been;  
Where first the Warlike Britain's did submit,  
And with their Freedom their old Fierceness quit.  
" Now none of lofty Deal's proud towers are shown,  
" Not one of Caesar's Trophies grace the Town.  
And if some Justice no one did dispense,  
You'd scarce believe the Britain's banished hence.  
Here drunken Seamen swear, and louder roar  
Than all their Guns, or Waves against the Shore.  
The vulgar Herd stand on the Beach, and pray  
Not for a fair, but a tempestuous Day:  
They seem to worship raging Storms begun,  
As the soft Persians once the Rising Sun.  
The same rough Wind that Death to others blows,  
To them new life, new heaps of Treasures shows.  
The darkening Clouds that now eclipse the Light  
(And even Greenland Monsters would affright)  
Raise Day within their Hearts, who gladly stand  
Expecting the rich Spoils of Goodwin's Sand.  
Thus hungry Eagles dying Hosts survey,  
Then eagerly descend to seize the Prey.  
Their nimble Yawls are soon prepared, and then  
Their Nets and Drags catch Shipwrecked Goods and Men.  
Such savage Manners, and so wildly bred,  
They Plunder Sailors living and when Dead.  
At Smuggling so expert, and so complete,  
They first the King, and then his Subjects cheat.  
I've this respect for Deal, I wish to live  
To see its Manners changed, its Tradesmen thrive:  
For this effect there's now an happy Cause,  
A Civil Magistrate, and Sober Laws.  
May his Example famous be, and bright,  
To lead them out of Darkness into Light,  
As their high Fires the Pilots do by Night.  
May Justice there distil like healthful Balm,  
And never be too stormy, nor too calm.  
Their Laws I wish observed, so lately made,  
And Gospel minded too, as well as Trade.   

Now I'll tell you how my Life was spent,  
With useful Pleasure, and with true Content.  
As early as the Sun I left my Bed,  
With pious, sober Thoughts well furnished.  
After my Duty was to Heaven paid,  
Then next the Holy Word of God I read.  
To some improving Author next I turned,  
And then for some few Minutes I adjourned:  
On the large Deck I often used to walk,  
And freely I could read, or think, or talk.  
To choose my Company I freedom had,  
For here, as every where, there's good and bad.  
Some had both Indies seen, and would relate  
The Acts of Providence, which they termed Fate;  
What Dangers they'd escaped, what Hazards run,  
And how they travelled to the Setting Sun;  
What Monstrous Beasts, what Monstrous Men they'd seen,  
In what deserted Islands they had been.  
Some careful Observations they had made,  
And gave a very good Account of Trade.  
The distant Countries they with Skill described,  
What  were worn, and by what Food they lived,  
Under what Manners and what Laws they thrived.  
Others in bloody Wars had lately been,  
And this by honourable Scars was seen:  
These o'er a jolly Bowl would smiling tell,  
Who like Cowards, and who like Hero's fell.  
Heated with pleasant Punch, they'd boldly own  
Th' undaunted Courage they themselves had shown.  
In his stout Arm the piercing Bullet lies,  
And pointed Splinters scared his brawny Thighs.  
This in the Steeridge had a fractured Skull,  
But ne'er of Brains, as now of Spirits, full.  
He'd tell you how they first Engaged, and when  
From Stem to Stern they raked the active Men:  
How, after Tacking, what Broadsides they gave,  
How resolute their Foes were, and how brave;  
The leaky Ship they nimbly strived to save,  
But could not bony it from its Watery Grave:  
The swimming Sailors snatched the loosened Ropes,  
Banish their Fears, and cling by slender Hopes.  
Some rather sink, and stoutly choose to die,  
Than have their Lives, and want their Liberty.   

One Reformade we had who used the Sea,  
Pleasant and easy in our Company;  
Full of good Sense, and Free, and Debonnaire,  
To choose good Friends, good Books, was all his care.  
With great instructive Pleasure I have known  
What he had seen, what heard, and read, and done.   

With my kind Captain I was asked to Dine,  
Where our Repast was plentiful and fine,  
Good Meat, good Music, and true Virgin Wine.  
A modest Freedom here was always used,  
He never forced us, when we had refused;  
Except when the Great Russel's Health went round,  
No Man to Drink at any time was bound,  
And always then the cheerful Glass was crowned.  
Such Food, and such Discourses I might find,  
At once to fill my Belly, and my Mind.   

After all this, I truly must confess,  
There was one reigning, silly Wickedness;  
For very few I found that could forbear  
From horrid Oaths, not fit to speak or hear.  
Some would as rudely Swear, as if they'd been  
Not trafficking for Goods, but Oaths and Sin.  
This was the chiefest Fault, the great Offence,  
And which I often tried to banish thence:  
But sooner might the raging Winds command,  
Or stem the rolling Tide with either Hand;  
Arrest a Bullet in its swiftest pace,  
Or make a lofty Mountain change its place;  
Or pluck the twinkling Stars from their abode,  
Or with a crumbling Wafer make a God.   

Late in the Summer we received our Pay,  
And the whole Crew was soon dispatched away.  
To a new Scene of Life I then removed,  
Which ever since I have enjoyed and loved.   

Not far from great Augusta stands a Vill,  
Whose scattered Houses grace the rising Hill;  
Near the smooth-sliding Thames, and that fair Town  
Where Pious Edgar first received his Crown.  
But more, 'tis not to little, or too great,  
Famous alone for the Great Alston's Seat;  
Alston, a Name I fond love to sing,  
Because so early Loyal to his King;  
Whose prudent Conduct reaches now to raise  
Honours, a better Fortune, and more Praise.  
His forward Travels polished his Mind,  
Where sprightly Wit with Manly Sense is joined;  
The Air of France without the Vanity,  
English Courage, and Dutch Solidity.  
Happy he is, and now I dare confess,  
I cannot wish him greater Happiness.  
The greatest Comforts he enjoys of life,  
An Happy Offspring, and a Charming Wife:  
Not Cupid's Mother half so Fair; so Good,  
You'd think she nothing else but Heaven loved.  
Had she with Juno, Pallas, Venus been,  
Paris would then as soon have judged as seen.  
Not Jove in all his Shapes, though 'twas in Gold,  
To tempt her Virtue would have been so bold.  
To a late Age may both their Lives extend,  
And all their Days in melting Pleasures spend,  
And never want a true and faithful Friend.  
I'll stretch my wish, And may they always Love,  
Till they grow Perfect with the Saints above.  
May the ill Tongues that try to blast her Name,  
Be never whispered by the Mouth of Fame.  
Not that I think they live without all Faults,  
But greatest Virtues meet with great Assaults.   

The Cure of Souls, (that great and weighty Charge,  
And even when the Parish is not large)  
A Reverend good Old Man has long supplied,  
Whose humble, modest Temper has been tried;  
Full Thirty Years, in Sermons and in Prayer,  
His little Flock has known his sweeting Care.  
He always early taught the growing Youth  
The plainest Precepts of unerring Truth.  
The craving Poor not grudgingly he fed  
With prudent Counsel, Money, and with Bread.  
The Rich an hospitable Table find,  
Where he is generous, easy, free, and kind.  
His numerous Kindred all his Bounty own,  
And from that Fountain some have Wealthy grown.  
His spotless Virtues I would lively paint,  
But mortal Colours we confess too faint,  
To give a worthy Beauty to a Saint.  
Never may I ungratefully forget  
To pay my own and long-continued Debt.  
I pray, (and may my urgent Prayers be heard)  
That God, for me, would give him a Reward,  
Since I can pay him nothing but Regard.  
Since long the Fates his happy Web have spun,  
Grant that it may much longer smoothly run.  
Late, very late may the good Man remove  
Unto the peaceful Court of boundless Love.  
There may his Earthly Cares be crowned with Joy,  
Which none can interrupt, or none destroy.  
Must not he then in Heaven shine very bright,  
Who sparkles here with such diffusive Light?  
Each active Virtue, and each noble Grace,  
Deserve the Pleasures of a better Place.  
This he would wish himself, but that his stay  
Is to show many others yet their Way.  
His good Example, and his pious Care,  
Makes Heaven itself a blessed Subject spare.  
Spent with the Altar's Service, not with Grief,  
His sinking Spirits call for short relief:  
Not that the pastoral Charge he'll quite resign,  
But only make the lowest Duty mine.  
With him I live, 'tis him I serve and love,  
From hence I truly wish a late remove.  
'Tis Solitude, to what I once enjoyed;  
But Pleasure turns to Surfeit, when we're cloyed.  
The Noise and hurry of the crowded Town  
Now makes me think my Pleasure's all my own.  
My present Calm, and most delightful Ease,  
Seem like the absence of a stern Disease;  
And after Sickness, Health must always please.  
In this secure and undisturbed Retreat  
I envy not the Wealthy, or the Great.  
This I propose to be my chiefest End,  
To serve my GOD, and love and serve my Friend.   
FINIS.