But though experience will not fail to fhow,
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 fhould not Prudence her light wing command,
She may too far extend her heedlefs flight;
For Pleasure foon fhall 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 fhe may fafely roam;
If roving does not make her hate retreat,
And with averfion fhun 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 fhare
Each calm delight that foothes the studious mind.
While genius lafts, his fame fhall ne'er decay,
Whofe artful hand first caus'd its fruits to spread ;
In lafting volumes ftampt the printed lay,
And taught the Muses to embalm the dead.
To him I owe each fair inftructive page,
Where Science tells me what her fons have known; Collects their choiceft works from every age, And makes me wife 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 fhun, or to endure,
The foe malignant, and the faithless friend.
Should rigid Want withdraw all outward aid,
Kind ftores of inward comfort they can bring;
Should keen Disease life's tainted stream invade,
Sweet to the foul from them pure health may spring.
Should both at once man's weakly frame infeft, Some letter'd charm may still relief fupply; 'Gainst all events prepare his patient breast,
And make him quite refign'd to live, or die.
For though no words can time or fate restrain;
No founds fupprefs the call of Nature's voice;
Though neither rhymes, nor fpells, can conquer pain,
Nor magic's felf make wretchedness our choice;
Yet reafon, while it forms the subtile plan,
Some purer fource of pleasure to explore,
Muft deem it vain for that poor pilgrim, man,
To think of refting 'till his journey's o'er;
Muft deem each fruitless toil, by heav'n design'd
To teach him where to look for real bliss ;
Elfe why should heav'n excite the hope to find
What balk'd pursuit must here for ever mifs?
The GROTTO: An ODE to SILENCE.
COME, mufing Silence, nor refuse to shed
Thy fober 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 manfions of the vaulted dead:
For ftill at eve's ferenest hour,
All Nature owns thy foothing pow'r :
Oft haft thou deign'd with me to rove,
Beneath the calm fequefter'd grove;
Oft deign'd my secret steps to lead
Along the dewy pathless mead;
Or up the dusky lawn, to spy
The laft faint gleamings of the twilight sky.
Then wilt thou ftill thy penfive vot'ry meet,
Oft as he calls thee to this gloomy feat:
For here, with many a folemn myftic rite,
Wert thou invok'd to confecrate the ground,
Ere these rude walls were rear'd remote from fight,
Or ere with mofs this fhaggy roof was crown'd.
Hail! bleffed parent of each purer thought,
That doth at once the heart exalt and mend!
Here wilt thou never fail to find
My vacant folitude inclin'd
Thy serious leffons to attend.
For they I ween fhall be with goodness fraught,
Whether thou bid me meditate
On man, in untaught nature's ftate;
How far this life he ought to prize;
How far its tranfient scenes defpife :
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:
Or if in man redeem'd you bid me trace
Each wond'rous proof of heav'n's tranfcendent grace;
Then breathe some sparks of that celeftial fire,
Which in the raptur'd feraph 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 fhall 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 fubfide,
Save such as soothes the lift'ning sense,
And ferves to aid thy influence:
Save where, foft-breathing o'er the plain,
Mild Zephyr waves the rustling grain :
Or where some stream, from rocky fource,
Slow trickles down its ceaseless course:
Or where the fea's imperfect roar
Comes gently murm'ring from the distant shore.
But moft in Philomel, fweet bird of night,
In plaintive Philomel, is thy delight:
For fhe, or ftudious to prolong her grief,
Or oft to vary her exhaustless lay,
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