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Poured forth by beauty splendid and polite,
In language foft as adoration breathes ?
Ah spare your idol! think him human ftill.
Charms he may have, but he has frailties too!
Dote not too much, nor spoil what ye


All truth is from the sempiternal source Of light divine. But Egypt, Greece, and Rome, Drew from the stream below. More favoured we Drink, when we choose it, at the fountain head. To them it flowed much mingled and defiled With hurtful error, prejudice, and dreams Illusive of philosophy, so called, But falsely. Sages after fages ftrove In vain to filter off a crystal draught Pure from the lees, which often more enhanced The thirst than slaked it, and not seldom bred Intoxication and delirium wild. In vain they pushed inquiry to the birth And spring-time of the world! asked, Whence is

man ? Why formed at all? and wherefore as he is ? Where must he find his Maker ? with what rites Adore him? Will he hear, accept, and bless ?

Or i singuri

wci, vi nis works? Has muil within him an immortal seed? Or does the tomb take all? If he survive His ashes, where? and in what weal or woe? Knots worthy of solution, which alone A Deily could solve. Their answers, vague And all at random, fabulous and dark, Left them as dark themselves. Their rules of life Defective and insanaioned, proved too weak To bind the roving appetite, and lead Blind nature to a God not yet revealed. 'Tis revelation satisfies all doubts, Explains all mysteries, except her own, And so illuminates the path of life, That fools discover it, and stray no more. Now tell me, dignified and fapient fir, My man of morals, nurtured in the shades Of Academus-is this false or true ? Is Christ the abler teacher, or the schools ? If Christ, then why resort at every turn To Athens or to Rome, for wisdom short Of man's occasions, when in him refide Grace, knowledge, comfort-an unfathomed liore! How oft, when Paul has served us with a text,

Has Epictetus, Plato, Tully, preached!
Men that, if now alire, would fit content
And humble learners of a Saviour's worth,
Preach it who might. Such was their love of truth,
Their thirst of knowledge, and their candour too!

And thus it is.—The paftor, either vain
By nature, or by flattery made fo, taught
To.gaze at his own splendour, and to exalt
Absurdly, not his office, but himself;
Or unenlightened, and too proud to learn;
Or vicious, and not therefore apt to teach;
Perverting often, by the stress of lewd
And loose example, whom he should inftru&t;
Exposes, and holds up to broad disgrace,
The nobleft function, and discredits much
The brightest truths, that man has ever seen.
For ghostly counsel ; if it either fall
Below the exigence, or be not backed
With show of love, at least with hopeful proof
Of some fincerity on the giver's part;
Or be dishonoured in the exterior form
And mode of its conveyance by such tricks,
As move derision, or by foppish airs

And histrionic mummery, that let down
The pulpit to the level of the stage;
Drops from the lips a disregarded thing.
The weak perhaps are moved, but are not taught,
While prejudice in men of stronger minds
Takes deeper root, confirmed by what they fee.
A relaxation of religion's hold
Upon the roving and uptutored heart
Soon follows, and, the curb of conscience snapt,
The laity run wild.—But do they now?
Note their extravagance, and be convinced.

As nations, ignorant of God, contrive A wooden one; so we, no longer taught By monitors, that mother church supplies, Now make our own. Posterity will ask (If e'er pofterity fee verse of mine) Some fifty or an hundred lustrums hence, What was a monitor in George's days? My very gentle reader, yet unborn, Of whom I needs must augur better things, Since heaven would sure grow weary of a world Productive only of a race like our's, A monitor is wood-plank shaven thin.

We wear it at our backs. There, closely braced
And neatly fitted, it compreffes hard
The prominent and most unsightly bones,
And binds the shoulders flat. We prove its use
Sovereign and most effectual to secure
A form, not now gymnastic as of yore,
From rickets and distortion, elle our lot.
But thus admonifhed, we can walk erect-
One proof at least of manhood! while the friend
Sticks close, a Mentor worthy of his charge.
Our habits, costlier than Lucullus wore,
And by caprice as multiplied as his,
Juft please us while the fashion is at full,
But change with every moon. The sycophant,
Who waits to dress us, arbitrates their date;
Surveys his fair reversion with keen eye;
Finds one ill made, another obsolete,
This fits not nicely, that is ill conceived ;
And, making prize of all that he condemns,
With our expenditure defrays his own.
Variety's the very spice of life,
That gives it all its flavour. We have run
Through every change, that fancy at the loom
Exhausted has had genius to supply ;


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