Prefcient of future dignities, falute
Sheriff, or mayor, in comfortable furs
Enwrapt,, fecure: nor yet the laureat's crown
In thought exclude him! He perchance thall rife
To nobler heights than forefight can decree.
When, fir'd with wrath, for his intrigues difplay'd In many an idle fong, Saturnian Jove
Vow'd fure deftruction to the tuneful race;
Appeas'd by fuppliant Phoebus, "Bards, he faid,
Henceforth of plenty, wealth, and pomp debarr'd,
But fed by frugal cares, might wear the bay
Secure of thunder."-Low the Delian bow'd,
Nor at th' invidious favour dar'd repine.
THE EFFECTS OF SUPERSTITION.
T length fair
with olive crown'd regains
peace
Her lawful throne, and to the facred haunts
Of wood or fount the frighted Mufe returns.
Happy the Bard, who, from his native hills,
Soft muling on a fummer's eve, furveys
His azure ftream, with penfile woods enclos'd!
Or o'er the glaffy furface, with his friend,
Or faithful fair, through bordering willows green
Wafts his fmall frigate. Fearless he of shouts,
Or taunts, the rhetoric of the watery crew
That ape confusion from the realms they rule!
Fearless of thefe; who fhares the gentler voice
Of peace and mufic; birds of fweetest fong
Attune from native boughs their various lay,
And chear the forest; birds of brighter plume
With bufy pinion fkim the glittering wave,
And tempt the fun; ambitious to display
Their feveral merit, while the vocal flute,
Or number'd verfe, by female voice endear'd,,
Crowns his delight, and mollifies the fcene.
If folitude his wandering steps invite
To fome more deep recefs (for hours there are,
When gay, when focial minds to friendship's voice,
Or beauty's charm, her wild abodes prefer);
How pleas'd he treads her venerable shades,
Her folemn courts! the centre of the grove!
The root-built cave, by far-extended rocks
Around embofom'd, how it foothes the foul!
If fcoop'd at first by fuperftitious hands
The rugged cell receiv'd alone the fhcals
Of bigot minds, religion dwells not here,
Yet virtue pleas'd, at intervals, retires:
Yet here may wisdom, as she walks the maze,
Some ferious truths collect, the rules of life,
And ferious truths of mightier weight than gold!
I afk not wealth; but let me hoard with care,
With frugal cunning, with a niggard's art,
A few fix'd principles; in early life,
Ere indolence impede the fearch, explor'd.
Then, like old Latimer, when age impairs
My judgment's eye, when quibbling schools attack
My grounded hope, or fubtler wits deride,
Will I not blush to fhun the vain debate,
And this mine anfwer; "Thus, 'twas thus I thought; "My mind yet vigorous, and my foul entire; "Thus will I think, averfe to liften more "To intricate difcuffion, prone to ftray. "Perhaps my reafon may but ill defend "My fettled faith; my mind, with age impair'd, "Too fure its own infirmities declare.
"But I am arm'd by caution, ftudious youth, "And early forefight; now the winds may rife, "The tempeft whistle, and the billows roar;
My pinnace rides in port, defpoil'd and worn,
"Shatter'd by time and storms, but while it fhuns
"Th' inequal conflict, and declines the deep,
"Sees the ftrong veffel fluctuate lefs fecure."
Thus while he frays, a thousand rural fcenes
Suggest inftruction, and inftructing please.
And fee betwixt the grove's extended arms
An abbey's rude remains attract thy view,
Gilt by the mid-day fun
Produce thine axe, (for,
with lingering step aiming to destroy
Tree, branch, or shade, for never shall thy breast
Too long deliberate) with timorous hand
Remove th' obstructive bough; nor yet refuse,
Though fighing, to destroy that favourite pine,
Rais'd by thine hand, in its luxuriant prime
Of beauty fair, that fcreens the vast remains.
Aggriev'd but conftant as the Roman fire,
S 3
The rigid Manlius, when his conquering fon
Bled by a parent's voice; the cruel meed
Of virtuous ardour, timelessly display'd;
Nor cease till, through the gloomy road, the pile
Gleam unobstructed; thither oft thine eye
Shall fweetly wander; thence returning, foothe
With penfive fcenes thy philofophic mind.
Thefe were thy haunts, thy opulent abodes,
O fuperftition! hence the dire disease,
(Balanc'd with which the fam'd Athenian pest
Were a short head-ach, were the trivial pain
Of tranfient indigeftion) feiz'd mankind.
Long time the rag'd, and scarce a fouthern gale
Warm'd our chill air, unloaded with the threats
Of tyrant Rome; but futile all, till fhe,
Rome's abler legate, magnify'd their power,
And in a thoufand horrid forms attir'd.
Where then was truth to fanctify the page
Of British-annals? if a foe expir'd,
The perjur'd monk fuborn'd infernal shrieks,
And fiends to fnatch at the departing foul
With hellish emulation. If a friend,
High o'er his roof exultant angels tune
Their golden lyres, and waft him to the skies.
What then were vows, were oaths, were plighted
The fovereign's juft, the fubject's loyal pact,
To cherish mutual good, annull'd and vain,
By Roman magic, grew an idle fcroll
Ere the frail fanétion of the wax was cold.
With thee, Plantagenet from civil broils The land a while refpir'd, and all was peace. Then Becket rofe, and, impotent of mind, From regal courts with lawlefs fury march'd The church's blood-ftain'd convicts, and forgave Bid murderous priests the fovereign frown contemn, And with unhallow'd crofier bruis'd the crown. Yet yielded not fupinely tame a prince Of Henry's virtues; learn'd, courageous, wife, Of fair ambition. Long his regal foul Firm and erect the peevish priest exil'd, And brav'd the fury of revengeful Rome. In vain! let one faint malady diffuse The penfive gloom which fuperftition loves, And fee him, dwindled to a recreant groom, Rein the proud palfrey whilft the priest afcends! Was Coeur-de-lion bleft with whiter days? Here the cowl'd zealots with united cries Urg'd the crufade; and fee, of half his ftores Defpoil'd the wretch, whofe wifer bofom chofe To blefs his friends, his race, his native land. Of ten fair funs that roll'd their annual race, Not one beheld him on his vacant throne; While haughty Longchamp, 'mid his livery'd files Of wanton vaffals, fpoil'd his faithful realm, Battling in foreign fields'; colle&ting wide
A laurel harveft for a pillag'd land.
Bishop of Ely, Lord Chancellor,
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