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And, while the wings of Fancy still are free, And I can view this mimic show of thee, Time has but half succeeded in his thestThyself remov'd, thy pow'r to soothe me left.
But will sincerity suslice?
And must be made ihe basis;
All shining in their places.
A fretful temper will divide
By ceaseless sharp corrosion ; A temper passionate and fierce May suddenly your joys disperse
At one immense explosion.
What virtue, or what mental grace, But men unqualified and base
Will boast it their possession? Profusion apes the noble part Of liberalily of heart,
And dullness, of discretion. If every polish'd gem we find Illuminating heart or mind,
Provoke to imitation;
Or rather constellation.
A real and a sound one;
And dream that he had found one.
In vain the talkative unite
The secret just committed,
And by themselves outwitted.
How bright soe'er the prospect seems,
If envy chance to creep in;
But not a friend worth keeping.
As envy pines at good possess’d,
On good, that seems approaching; And, if success his steps attend, Discerns a rival in a friend,
And hates him for encroaching.
Hence authors of illustrious name, Unless belied by common fame,
Are sadly prone to quarrel, To deem the wit a friend displays A tax upon their own just praise,
And pluck each other's laurel.
A man renown'd for repartee
With friendship's finest feeling; Will thrust a dagger at your breast, And say he wounded you in jest,
By way of balm for healing.
Candid, and generous, and just,
An error soon corrected
Is most to be suspected ?
And taken trash for treasure,
A mere Utopian pleasure.
Nor is it wise complaining,
We sought without attaining.
Or mean self-love erected; Nor such as may awhile subsist, Between the sot and sensualist,
For vicious ends connected. Who seek a friend should come dispos'd, T exhibit in full bloom disclos'd
The graces and the beauties,
And constantly supported :
Our own as much distorted.
Whoever keeps an open ear
The trumpet of contention; Aspersion is the babbler's trade, To listen is to lend him aid,
And rush into dissension.
A friendship, that in frequent fits
The sparks of disputation,
The thought of conflagration.
Some fickle creatures boast a soul
Their humor yet so various
Their love is so precarious
The great and small but rarely meet
Plebeians must surrender,
Obscurity with splendor.
As similarity of mind,
First fixes our attention ;
Must save it from declension.
Some are so placid and serene,
They sleep secure from waking; And are indeed a bog, that bears Your unparticipated cares,
Unmov'd and without quaking.
Courtier and patriot cannot mix
Without an effervescence,
A friendly coalescence.
Religion should extinguish strife,
But friends that chance to differ
No combatants are stiffer.
Some act upon this prudent plan,
Safe policy, but hateful-
Unpleasant and ungrateful.
No subterfuge or pleading
A spy on my proceeding.
Of evils yet untention'
To be at least expedient,
A principal ingredient.
Though some have turn'd and turn'd i
Have not, it seems, discern'd it.
To mortify and grieve me,
Or may my friend deceive me.
To prove at last my main intent
No cutting and contriving
Sometimes the fault is all our own, Some blemish in due time made known,
By trespass or omission; Sometimes occasion brings to light Our friend's defect long hid from sight,
And even from suspicion.
C'hen judge yourself and prove your man As circumspectly as you can,
And, having made election, Beware no negligence of yours, Such as a friend but ill endures,
Enfeeble his affection.
Chat secrets are a sacred trust,
That constancy befits them,
And all the world admits them.
........... studiis florens ignobilis oti.
Virg. Georg p.iv.
But 'tis not timber, lead, and stone, An architect requires alone,
To finish a fine buildingThe palace were but half complete, If he could possibly forget
The carving and the gilding.
HACKNEY'D in business, wearied at that oar
The man that hails you Tom or Jack,
How he esteems your merit,
To pardon or lo bear it.
Thus Conscience pleads her cause within the breast, At such a sight to catch the poet's flame,
* These are thy glorious works, thoa source of good For Heaven's high purposes, and not his own, How dimly seen, how faintly understood! Calls him away from selfish ends and aims,
Thine, and upheld by thy paternal care, From what debilitates, and what inflames,
This universal frame, thus wondrous fair; From cities humming with a restless crowd, Thy pow'r divine, and bounty beyond thought, Sordid as active, ignorant as loud,
Ador'd and prais'd in all that thou hast wrought Whose highest praise is that they live in vain, Absorb'd in that immensity I see, The dopes of pleasure, or the slaves of gain, I shrink abas'd, and yet aspire to thee; Where works of man are closter'd close around, Instruct me, guide me to that heav'nly day, And works of God are hardly to be found, Thy words, more clearly than thy works, display, To regions where, in spite of sin and woe,
That, while thy truths my grosser thoughts refine. Traces of Eden are still seen below,
I may resemble thee, and call thee mine."
The recompense that arts or arms can yield,
The bar, the senate, or the tented field, True wisdom will attend his feeble call,
Compard with this sublimest life below, And grace his action ere the curtain fall.
Ye kings and rulers, what have courts to show! Souls, that have long despis'd their hearinly birth, This studied, us'd and consecrated thus. Their wishes all impregnated with Earth,
On Earth what is, seems form'd indeed for us. For threescore years employ'd with ceaseless care Not as the plaything of a froward child, In catching spoke and feeding upon air,
Fretful unless diverted and beguild, Conversant only with the ways of man,
Much less to feed and fan the fatal fires Rarely redeem the short remaining ten.
of pride, ambition, or impure desires, Invet' rate habits choke th' unfruitful heart, But as a scale, by which the soul ascends Their fibres penetrate its tend'rest part,
From mighty means to more important ends, And, draining its natritious pow'rs to feed
Securely, though by steps but rarely trod, Their noxious growth, starve ev'ry better seed. Mounts from inferior beings up to God,
Happy, if full of days—but happier far, And sees, by no fallacious light or dim, If, ere we yet discern life's ev'ning-star,
Earth made for man, and man himself for him. Sick of the service of a world, that feeds
Not that I mean t' approve, or would enforce Its patient drudges with dry chaff and weeds, A superstitious and monastic course: We can escape from Custom's idiot sway,
Truth is not local, God alike pervades To serve the Sov'reign we were born t' obey. And fills the world of traffie and the shades, Then sweet to muse upon his skill display'd And may be fear'd amidst the busiest scenes, (Infinite skill) in all that he has made!
Or scorn'd where business never intervenes.
But 'tis not easy, with a mind like ours,
And in a world, where, other ills apart,
| The roving eye misleads the careless heart, The shapely limb and lubricated joint,
To limit thought, by nature prone to stray Within the small dimensions of a point,
Wherever freakish fancy points the way; Muscle and nerve miraculously spun,
To bid the pleadings of Self-love be still, His mighty work, who speaks and it is done, Resign our own, and seek our Maker's will; Th' invisible in things scarce seen reveald, To spread the page of Scripture, and compare To whom an atom is an ample field;
Our conduct with the laws engraven there ;
To measure all that passes in the breast,
Ourselves, and our recov'ry from our sall.
The point of int'rest, or the post of pow'r, Then with a glance of fancy to survey,
A soul serene, and equally retir'd Far as the faculty can stretch away,
From objects too much dreaded or desir'd, Ten thousand rivers pour'd at his command Safe from the clamors of perverse dispute, From urns, that never fail, through ev'ry land; At least are friendly to the great pursuit. These like a deluge with impetuous force,
Opining the map of God's extensive plan, Those winding modestly a silent course;
We find a little isle this life of man; The cloud-surmounting Alps, the fruitful vales; Eternity's unknown expanse appears Seas, on which ev'ry nation spreads her sails ; Circling around and limiting his years. The Sun, a world whence other worlds drink light, The busy race examine and explore The crescent Moon, the diadem of night; Each creek and cavern of the dang rous shore, Stars countless, each in his appointed place, With care collect what in their eyes excels, Fast anchor'd in the deep abyss of space
Some shining pebbles, and some weeds and shell
Thus laden, dream that they are rich and great,
Nor these alone prefer a life recluse,
The lover, too, shuns business and alarms,
In sighs he worships his supremely fair,
Virtuous and faithful Heberden, whose skill
Both fail beneath a fever's secret sway,
Ye groves, (the statesman at his desk exclaims And like a summer-brook are past away.
Sick of a thogsand disappointed aims.) This is a sight for Pity to peruse,
My patrimonial treasure and my pride, Till she resemble faintly what she views,
Beneath your shades your grey possessor hide, Till Sympathy contract a kindred pain,
Receive me langnishing for that repose,
Ye saw me once (ah those regretted days,
To studies then familiar, since forgot,
But vers'd in arts, that, while they seem to stay Or pangs enforc'd with God's severest stroke. LA falling empire, basten its decay. But with a soul, that ever felt the sting
To the fair haven of my native home, Of sorrow, sorrow is a sacred thing:
The wreck of what I was, fatigued I come; Not to inolest, or irritate, or raise
For once I can approve the patriot's voice, A laugh at his expense, is slender praise ;
And make the course he recommends my choice He, that has not usurp'd the name of man,
We meet at last in one sincere desire, Does all, and deems too little all, he can,
His wish and mine both prompt me to retire. T'assuage the throbbings of a fester'd part,
"Tis done-he steps into the welcome chaise, And stanch the bleedings of a broken heart. Lolls at his ease behind four handsome bays, 'Tis not, as heads that never ache suppose,
That whirl away from business and Jebate Forg'ry of fancy, and a dream of woes ;
The disencumberà Atlas of the state. Man is a harp, whose chords elude the sight, Ask not the boy, who, when the breeze of morn Each yielding harmony dispos'd aright;
First shakes the glitt'ring drops from ev'ry thorn,
Sits linking cherry-stones, or platting rush,
To draw th' incautious minnow from the brook, Nor soft declivities with tufted hills,
Are life's prime pleasures in his simple view, Nor view of waters turning busy mills,
His flock the chief concern he ever knew; Parks in which Art preceptress Nature weds, She shines but little in his heedless eyes, Nor gardens interspers'd with flow'ry beds,
The good we never miss we rarely prize : Nor gales, that catch the scent of blooming groves, But ask the noble drudge in state affairs, And waft it to the mourner as he royes,
Escap'd from office and its constant cares, Can call up life into his faded eye,
What charms he sees in Freedom's smile expressid, That passes all he sees upheeded by ;
In Freedom lost so long, now repossessid ; No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels, The tongue, whose strains were cogent as com No cure for such, till God who makes them heals.
mands, And thou, sad suffører under nameless ill,
Rever'd at home, and felt in foreign lands, That yields not to the touch of human skill, Shall own. itself a stamm'rer in that cause, Improve the kind occasion, understand
Or plead its silence as its best applause. A Father's frown, and kiss his chast'ning hand. He knows indeed that whether dressid or rude, To thee the day-spring, and the blaze of noon, Wild without art, or artfully subdued, The purple ev'ning, and resplendent Moon, Nature in ev'ry form inspires delight, The stars, that, sprinkled o'er the vault of night, But never mark'd her with so just a sight. Seem drops descending in a show'r of light, Her hedge-row shrubs, a variegated store, Shine not, or undesir'd and hated shine,
With woodbine and wild roses mantled o'er, Seen through the medium of a cloud like thine: Green balks and furrow'd lands, the stream tha Yet seek him, in his favor life is found,
spreads All bliss beside a shadow or a sound:
Its cooling vapor o'er the dewy meads,
That melt and fade into the distant sky,
Beauties he lately slighted as he pass'd, Borrowing a beauty from the works of grace, Seem all created since he travel'd last. Shall be despis’d and overlook'd no more, Master of all th' enjoyments he design d, Shall fill thee with delights unfelt before,
No rough annoyance rankling in his mind, Impart to things inanimate a voice,
What early philosophic hours he keeps, And bid her mountains and her hills rejoice; How regular bis meals, how sound he sleeps! The sound shall run along the winding vales, No sounder he, that on the mainmast-head, And thou enjoy an Eden ere it fails.
While morning kindles with a windy red,