by reminding the perfon that he does not in reali ty poffefs what is attributed to him.

Good nature is fo effential to politeness, that every other advantage will not compenfate for the want of it. The man of a morofe difpofition may employ his utmost endeavours to assume a gracefulness of behaviour:-he will still be aukward, ftiff, and affected; for that eafe which is the principal evidence of true gentility, arifes from a complacency of temper, readily accommodating itself to the convenience of others, and not from an affectation of kindness, which implies vanity and conceit, and bears no relation to the defire of rendering fervice, or communicating fatisfaction.

Politeness is faid to be the art of rendering one's felf agreeable; but it is an art in which a proficiency cannot be attained, unless the natural difpofition correfpond with an inclination; for politeness more materially depends on a beneficence of heart, than an attention to common civilities: the firft will give the qualification in reality, and the other an affectation of it. It is, however, to be understood, that the introduction of art is juftifiable, as far as it tends to the improvement of nature.

Mr.

Mr. CONGREVE

то

LORD COBHAM,

ON IMPROVING THE PRESENT TIME.

SIN

INCEREST Critic of my Profe or Rhyme,
Tell how the pleafing Stowe employs thy

Time.

Say, Cobham, what amuses thy Retreat?
Or Stratagems of War, or Schemes of Fate?
Doft thou recal to Mind, with Joy or Grief,
Great Marlbro's Actions, that immortal Chief,
Whofe flightest Trophy, rais'd in each Campaign,
More than fuffic'd to fignalize a Reign?
Does thy Remembrance rifing warm thy Heart,
With Glory paft, where thou thyfelf hadft Part?
Or doft thou grieve indignant now to fee
The fruitless End of all thy Victory?

To fee th' audacious Foe fo late fubdu'd.
Difpute those Terms for which fo long they fu'd:
As if Britannia now were funk fo low,

To beg that peace, fhe wonted to bestow.
Be far that Guilt! be never known that Shame!
That England fhould retract her rightful Claim!
Or, ceafing to be dreaded or ador'd,

Stain, with her pen, the luftre of her fword.
Or doft thou give the Winds afar to blow
Each vexing Thought and Heart-devouring Woe,

And

And fix thy mind alone on rural scenes,
To turn the levell'd lawns to liquid plains;
To raise the creeping rills from humble beds,
And force the latent fprings to lift their heads;
On wat❜ry columns, capitals to rear,

That mix their flowing curls with upper
air?
Or doft thou, weary grown, these works neglect,
No temples, ftatues, obelisks erect;

But catch the morning breeze from fragrant meads,

Or fhun the noon-tide ray in wholesome fhades;
Or lowly walk along the mazy wood,

To meditate on all that's wife and good?
For nature, bountiful in thee, has join'd
A perfon pleafing with a worthy mind.
Not given the form alone, but means and art,
To draw the eye, or to allure the heart.
Poor were the praise in fortune to excel,
Yet want the way to use that fortune well;
While thus adorn'd, while thus with virtue
crown'd.

At home in peace, abroad in arms renown'd.
Graceful in form, and winning in addrefs,
While thus you think, what aptly you express;
With health, with honour, with a fair estate,
A table free, and elegantly neat.

What can be added more to mortal blifs?

What can he want that ftands poffefs'd of this?.

What can the fondest wishing mother more
Of heav'n, attentive, for her fon implore?
And yet a happiness remains unknown,
Or to philofophy reveal'd alone;

A Precept which unpractis'd renders vain
Thy flowing hopes, and pleasures turn to pain.
Should hope and fear thy heart alternate tear,
Or love, or hate, or rage, or anxious care,
Whatever paffions may thy mind infeft,

Where is that mind which paffions ne'er moleft?)
Amidft the pangs of fuch inteftine ftrife,
Still think the prefent day the laft of life;
Defer not till to morrow to be wise,
To-morrow's Sun to thee may never rise;
Or fhould to-morrow chance to chear thy fight,
With her enlivening and unlook'd for light.
How grateful will appear her dawning rays!
As favours unexpected doubly please.

Who thus can think, & who fuch thoughts purfues;
Content may keep his life, or calmly lose;
All proofs of this thou may'st thyself receive,
When leisure from affairs will give thee leave.
Come, fee thy friend, retir'd without regret,
Forgetting care, or ftriving to forget;

In eafy contemplation, foothing time

With morals much, and now and then with rhyme; Not fo robuft in body, as in mind,

And always undejected, tho' declin'd;

Not

Not won'dring at the world's new wicked ways,
Compar'd with thofe of our Fore-father's days:
For virtue now, is neither more or less,
And vice is only vary'd in the dress:
Believe it, men have ever been the fame,
And Ovid's golden age is but a dream.

WILLIAM CONGREVE.

DANCING and LOGIC

COMPARED.

AS logic is termed the art of thinking, so dan

Α

cing may be called the art of gefture. Logic teaches us fo to order and arrange our thoughts, as to give them perfpicuity and propriety of connection, and by dancing we are taught to direct our motions in fuch a manner as to give them gracefulness, harmony, and cafe. But the art of dancing is even more neceffary to gesticulation, than the art of logic is to thinking. To think elegantly and fublimely is the effect of genius alone, and the art of thinking clearly and justly may be attained by habit and obfervation; but it is queftionable whether an elegant and graceful carriage was ever obtained without the aid of dancing. Mechanical,

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