Thus all the Night in vain I sought repose, And early with the Sun next day, I rose; Still more impatient grew my new desires, To see again the Author of my Fires, _Love_ leads me forth, to little [A]CARES we pass, Where _Love_ instructed me _Aminta_ was; Far from _Inquietude_ this Village stands, And for its Beauty all the rest commands; In all the _Isle of Love_, not one appears, So ravishingly Gay as _Little Cares_. Little CARES, _or Little Arts to please_. I. _Thither all the Amorous Youth repair,_ _To see the Objects of their Vows;_ _No Jealousies approach ‘em there;_ _They Banish Dulness and Despair;_ _And only Gayety and Mirth allow._ _The Houses cover’d o’re with flow’rs appear,_ _Like fragrant Arbours all the year,_ _Where all the dear, the live-long day,_ _In Musick, Songs, and Balls is past away:_ _All things are form’d for pleasure and delight,_ _Which finish not but with the Light;_ _But when the Sun returns again,_ _They hold with that bright God an equal Reign._ II. _There no Reproaches dwell; that Vice_ _Is banisht with the Coy and Nice._ _The Froward there learn Complyance;_ _There the Dull Wise his Gravity forsakes,_ _The Old dispose themselves to Dance,_ _And Melancholy wakens from his Trance,_ _And against Nature sprightly Humour takes._ _The formal States-man does his Int’rest quit,_ _And learns to talk of Love and Wit;_ _There the Philosopher speaks Sense,_ _Such as his Mistress Eyes inspire;_ _Forgets his learned Eloquence,_ _Nor now compares his Flame to his own Chimick fire._ III. _The Miser there opens his Golden heaps,_ _And at_ Love’s _Altar offers the rich Prize;_ _His needless fears of want does now despise,_ _And as a lavish Heir, he Treats and Reaps_ _The Blessings that attend his grateful Sacrifice._ _Even the Fluttering Coxcomb there_ _Does less ridiculous appear:_ _For in the Crowd some one unlucky Face,_ _With some particular Grimmas,_ _Has the ill fate his Heart to gain,_ } _Which gives him just the Sense to know his pain;_ } _Whence he becomes less talkative and vain._ } _There ‘tis the Muses dwell! that sacred Nine,_ _Who teach the inlarged Soul to prove,_ _No Arts or Sciences Divine,_ _But those inspired by Them and_ Love! _Gay Conversation, Feast, and Masquerades,_ _Agreeable Cabals, and Serinades;_ _Eternal Musick, Gladness, Smiles and Sport,_ _Make all the bus’ness of this Little Court._