HUMAN PRAISE.

NOR abfolutely vain is human praise,

When human is fupported by divine..

I'll introduce LORENZO to himself;

Pleasure and pride (bad masters ;) fhare our hearts.
As love of pleasure is ordain'd to guard

And feed our bodies and extend our race;
The love of praise is planted to protect,
And propagate the glories of the mind.
What is it, but the love of praife, infpires,.
Matures, refines, embellishes, exalts,

Earth's happinefs? From that, the delicate,

The grand, the marvellous; of civil life,

Want and convenience, under-workers, lay
The bafis, on which love of glory builds.
Nor is thy life, O virtue! lefs in debt.
To praise, thy fecret ftimulating friend..

Were men not proud, what merits should we mifs !
Pride made the virtues of the pagan world.
Praise is the falt that feafons right to man,.
And whets his appetite for moral good..
Thirst of applaufe is virtue's fecond guard ;'
Reason, her firft; but reason wants an aid;
Our private reafon is a flatterer;

Thirst of applaufe calls public judgment in,
To poife our own, to keep an even scale,
And give endanger'd virtue fairer play.

EPISTLE

EPISTLE

FROM

ARTHUR GREY the FOOTMAN

After his CONDEMNATION for attempting a RAPE.

EAD, lovely nymph, and tremble not to read,
I have no more to wish, nor you to dread.:
I afk not life, for life to me were vain,
And death a refuge from feverer pain..
My only hope in these last lines I try;
I would be pitied, and I then would die..

Long had I liv'd as fordid as my fate,
Nor curs'd the destiny that made me wait.

*This man was footman to a gentleman, whofe daughter, a married lady, he attempted to ravish. It appears by his trial, that he went into her room about four o'clock in the morning, armed with a piftol in one hand, and a drawn fword in the other; and advancing to the bedfide, threatened to murder her if she made any noife. Upon asking him what he meant by coming into her chamber in fuch a manner, he replied that he intended to ravish her, for that he had entertained a violent love for her a long time, but as there was fo great a difference between their fortunes, he defpaired of enjoying his wifhes by any means but force. After fome refiftance, the lady wrenched the pistol from his hand, (he having laid down the fword) and rung the bell; upon which he ran away. He was indicted and convicted of a burglary, at the Old Bailey, in December 1721, but the fentence was not executed, for he was reprieved and afterwards tranfported.

A fervile

A fervile flave: content with homely food,
The gross instinct of happiness purfu'd :

Youth gave me fleep at night, and warmth of blood.
Ambition yet had never touch'd my breaft;
My lordly mafter knew no founder reft;
With labour healthy, in obedience bleft.
But when I faw-oh! had I never seen
That wounding softness, that engaging mein !
The mift of wretched education flies;
Shame, fear, defire, defpair and love arise,
The new creation of those beauteous eyes.
But yet that love purfu'd no guilty aim,
Deep in my heart I hid the fecret flame.
I never hop'd my fond defire to tell,
And all my wishes were to ferve you well.

}

}

Heav'ns! how I flew, when wing'd by your command,
And kifs'd the letters giv'n me by your hand.
How pleas'd, how proud, how fond was I to wait,
Prefent the sparkling wine, or change the plate!
How, when you fung my foul devour'd the found,
And ev'ry fense was in the rapture drown'd!
Tho' bid to go, I quite forgot to move;
-You knew not that ftupidity was love?
But oh! the torment not to be express'd,
The grief, the rage, the hell that fir'd this breaft,
When my great rivals, in embroid❜ry gay,
Sate by your fide, or led you from the play!
I ftill contriv'd near as I could to ftand,
(The flambeau trembling in my shaking hand)

I faw

I faw, or thought I faw, thofe fingers prefs'd,
For thus their paffion by my own I guefs'd,
And jealous fury all my foul poffefs'd.
Like torrents, love and indignation meet,
And madness would have thrown me at your feet.

Turn, lovely nymph (for fo I would have faid)
Turn from thofe triflers who make love a trade;
This is true paffion in my eyes you fee;

They cannot, no-they cannot love like me.
Frequent debauch has pall'd their fickly tafte,
Faint their defire, and in a moment paft:
They figh not from the heart, but from the brain;
Vapours of vanity, and strong champagne.
Too dull to feel what forms, like yours, infpire,
After long talking of their painted fire,

To fome lewd brothel they at night retire;
There pleas'd with fancy'd quality and charms,
Enjoy your beauties in a ftrumpet's arms.
Such are the joys those toasters have in view,
And fuch the wit and pleafure they pursue :
-And is this love that ought to merit you?
Each opera-night a new addrefs begun,
They fwear to thousands what they fwear to one.
Not thus I figh-but all my fighs are vain-
Die, wretched Arthur, and conceal thy pain :
'Tis impudence to wifh, and madness to complain.

}

}

}

Fix'd on this view, my only hope of ease,
I waited not the aid of flow disease:

The keeneft inftruments of death I fought,
And death alone employ'd my lab'ring thought..
This all the night-when I remember well,
The charming tinkle of your morning bell?
Fir'd by the found, I haften'd with your tea,
With one last look to smooth the darkfome way.-
how dear that fatal look has cost!

But oh
In that fond moment my refolves were loft.
Hence all my guilt, and all your forrows rife
I saw the languid softness of your eyes ;
I faw the dear diforder of your bed;

Your cheeks all glowing with a tempting red';
Your night-cloaths tumbled with refiftlefs grace';:
Your flowing hair play'd careless down your face,
Your night-gown fäften'd with a fingle pin;
-Fancy improv'd the wond'rous charms within !!
I fix'd my eyes upon that heaving breast,
And hardly, hardly I forbore the reft;
Eager to gaze, unfatisfy'd with fight,
My head grew giddy with the near delight!
-Too well you know the fatal following night!
Th' extremeft proof of my defire I give,.
And fince you will not love, I will not live.
Condemn'd by you, I wait the righteous doom;
Carelefs and fearlefs of the woes to come..
But when you see me waver in the wind,.
My guilty flame extinct, my foul refign'd,

}

Sure