But though experience will not fail to show,

Howe'er its truth man's weakness may upbraid, That what he mostly values here below,

Owes half its relish to kind Fancy's aid;

Yet should not Prudence her light wing command,

She may too far extend her heedless flight; For Pleasure soon shall quit her fairy-land · If Nature's regions are not held in sight.

From Truth's abode, in search of kind deceit,

Within due limits she may safely roam; If roving does not make her hate retreat,

And with aversion shun her proper home.

But thanks to those, whose fond parental care

To Learning's paths my youthful steps confin’d, I need not fhun a state which lets me share

Each calm delight that soothes the studious mind.

While genius lasts, his fame shall ne'er decay,

Whose artful hand first caus'd its fruits to spread; In lasting volumes stampt the printed lay, .

And taught the Muses to embalm the dead.

To

To him I owe each fair instructive page,

Where Science tells me what her fons have known; Collects their choicest works from every age,

And makes me wise with knowledge not my own.

Books rightly us'd may every state secure:

From fortune's evils may our peace defend; May teach us how to shun, or to endure,

The foe malignant, and the faithless friend.

Should rigid Want withdraw all outward aid,

Kind stores of inward comfort they can bring; Should keen Disease life’s tainted stream invade,

Sweet to the soul from them pure health may spring.

.

Should both at once man's weakly frame infest,

Some letter'd charm may still relief fupply; 'Gainst all events prepare his patient breast,

And make him quite resign’d to live, or die.

For though no words can time or fate restrain;

No sounds suppress the call of Nature's voice; Though neither rhymes, nor spells, can conquer pain, Nor magic's self make wretchedness our choice ;

Yet reason, while it forms the subtile plan,

Some purer source of pleasure to explore, Must deem it vain for that poor pilgrim, man,

To think of resting 'till his journey's o'er ;

"

Must deem each fruitless toil, by heav'n design'd ! To teach him where to look for real bliss ; Else why should heav'n excite the hope to find

What balk'd pursuit must here for ever miss ?

Et*******************************

The GROTTO: An Ode to SILENCE.

By the Same.
nome, musing Silence, nor refuse to shed

Thy sober influence o'er this darkling cell:
The defart waste and lonely plain,
Could ne’er confine thy peaceful reign; ..

Nor doft thou only love to dwell
'Mid the dark mansions of the vaulted dead:

For still at eve's serenest hour, . . .
All Nature owns thy foothing pow'r:
Oft haft thou deign’d with me to rove,
Beneath the calm sequester'd grove;

Oft deign’d my secret steps to lead
Along the dewy pathless mead;

Or up the dusky lawn, to spy
The last faint gleamings of the twilight sky.
Then wilt thou still thy pensive vot’ry meet,
Oft as he calls thee to this gloomy seat: .
For here, with many a solemn mystic rite,

Wert thou invok'd to consecrate the ground, Ere these rude walls were rear'd remote from fight, · Or ere with moss this shaggy roof was crown'd.

Hail ! blessed parent of each purer thought,
That doth at once the heart exalt and mend !

Here wilt thou never fail to find
My vacant solitude inclin'd

Thy serious lessons to attend.
For they I ween shall be with goodness fraught,
• Whether thou bid me meditate
On man, in untaught nature's state ;
How far this life he ought to prize;
How far its transient scenes despise : . .
What heights his reason may attain,
And where its proud attempts are vain :

What toils his virtue ought to brave,
For Hope's rewarding joys beyond the grave :

· H 3

Or if in man redeem'd you bid me trace
Each wondrous proof of heav'n's transcendent grace;
Then breathe some sparks of that celestial fire,

'Which in the raptur'd seraph glows above, Where fainted myriads crowd the joyful choir,

And harp their praises round the throne of love.

The trifling fons of Levity and Pride
Hence shall thy aweful seriousness exclude ;

Nor shall loud Riot's thoughtless train
With frantic mirth this grott profane.

No foe to peace shall here intrude.
For thou wilt kindly bid each found subside,

Save such as soothes the listning sense,
And serves to aid thy influence :
Save where, soft-breathing o'er the plain;
Mild Zephyr waves the rustling grain :
Or where some stream, from rocky fource,
Slow trickles down its ceaselefs course:

Or where the sea's imperfect roar
Comes gently murm’ring from the distant shore.
But most in Philomel, sweet bird of night,
In plaintive Philomel, is thy delight :
For she, or studious to prolong her grief,
: Or oft to vary her exhaustless lay,