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O fay, my Hill, in what propitious sphere,
Oft when you saw my youth wild error know, Reproof, soft- hinted, taught the blush to glow. Young and unform’d, you first my genius rais’d, Just smild when faulty, and when moderate prais'd. Me Mun'd, me ruin'd, lich a mother's rage ! You sung, till pity wept o’er every page. You call'd my lays and wrongs to early fame; Yet, yet, th' obudrate mother felt no shame. Pierc'd as I was ! your counsel soften’d care, To ease turn’d anguilh, and to hope despair. The man who never wound afflictive feels, He never felt the halmy worth that heals. Welcome the wound, when blest with such relief! For deep is felt the friend, when felt in grief.
shall never, but with life, remove Aspiring genius, condescending love. When some, with cold, superior looks, redress,
33 Relief seems insult, and confirms distress; You, when you view the man with wrongs befieg'd, While warm you act th'obliger, seem th' oblig'd.
All-winning inild to each of lowly state; To equals free, unservile to the great ; Greatness you honour, when by worth acquir’d; Worth is by worth in every rank admir'd. Greatness you scorn, when titles insult speak; Proud to vain pride, to honour'd meekness meek. That worthless bliss, which others court, you fly ; 45 That worthy woe, they shun, attracts your eye.
But Mall the Muse resound alone your praise? No--let the public friend exalt her lays ! O trace that friend with me!-he's yours !-he's
mine! The world's beneficent behold him shine!
Is knowledge his ? Benevolently great,
Is power his orb? He then, like power divine, 65 On all, though with a varied ray, will shine.
Ere power was his, the mar, he once carefsid,
80 Glory in hers, is in his eye disgrace; The friend of truth; the friend of human race.
Thus to no one, no fect, no clime confin'd, His boundless love embraces all mankind; And all their virtues in his life are known ;
85 And all their joys and forrows are his own.
These are the lights, where itands that friend con.
This, this the fpirit, which informs thy breaft. Through fortune's cloud thy genuine worth can thine; What would'st thou not, were wealth and greatness thine ?
OW various birds in melting concert fing,
And hail the beauty of the opening spring :
Oh could my soul through repths of knowledge see,
Think not light poetry my life's chief caie !
Oft have I said we falsely those accuse,
Mean + See Dyer's Piens,
Mean let me shrink, or spread sweet Made o'er all,
Though verse can never give my soul her aim; 25 Though act
only claims substantial fame; Though fate denies what my proud wanis require, Yet grant me, heaven, by knowledge to aspire : Thus to enquiry let me prompt the mind; Thus clear dimm'd truth, and bid her bless mankind; 30 From the pierc'd orphan thus draw shafts of grief, Arm want with patience, and teach wealth relief! To serve lov'd liberty inspire my breath ! Or, if my life be useless, grant me death ; For he, who useless is in life survey'd,
3 Burthens that world, his duty bids him aid.
Say, what have honours to allure the mind, Which he gains most, who least has serv'd mankind?" Titles, when worn by fools, I dare despise ; Yet they claim homage, when they crown the wise. * When high distinction marks deserving heirs, Desert ftill dignifies the mark it wears. But, who to birth alone would honours owe ? Honours, if true, from seeds of merit grow. Those trees, with sweetest charms, invite our eyes, ki; Which, from our own engrafiment, fruitful rife. Still we love best what we with labour gain, As the child's dearer for the mother's pain.
The Great I would not envy nor deride ; Nor stoop to swell a vain Superior's pride ;