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Hither, as to their per place, arise
There various neås I heard of love and strife,
peace and war, health, sickness, death, and life,
Above, below, without, within, around,
Thus flying east and west, and north and south,
When thus ripe lies are to perfection sprung,
Fame fits aloft, and points them out their course, Their date determines, and prescribes their force : Some to remain, and some to perish soon, Or wane and wax alternate like the moon. Around a thousand winged wonders fly, Borne by the trumpet's blast, and scatter'd thro' the
There, at one passage, oft you might furvey [lky. A lie and truth contending for the way;
490 And long 'twas doubtful, both fo clofely pent, Which first should issue thro' the narrow vent : At last agreed, together out they fly, Inseparable now the truth and lie; The strict companions are for ever joind, 495 And this or that unmix'd no mortal e'er shall find,
While thus I tood, intent to see and hear, One came, methought, and whisper'd in my ear, What could thus high thy rash ambition raise? Art thou, fond youth, a candidate for praile? 500
'Tis true, said I, not void of hopes I came, For who fo fond as youthful bards of fame? But few, alas! the casual blessing boast, So hard to gain, so easy to be loft. How vain that second life in others' breath, 505 Theftate which wits inherit after death! Ease, health, and life, for this they must resign, (Unsure the tenure, but how vast the fine !) The great man's curfe, without the gains, endure, Be envy'd, wretched, and be flatter'd, poor; SIO All luckless wits their enemies profest, And all successful, jealous friends at best.
Nor Fame I night, nor for her favours call;
520 Then teach me, Heav'n! to scorn the guilty bays, Drive from my breast that wretched luit of praise ; Unblemith'd let me live, or die unknown : Oh! grant an honest Famę, or grant me none !
THE MERCHANT'S TALE.
THERE liv?d in Lombardy, as authors write,
In days of old, a wife and worthy knight; Of gentle manners, as of gen'rous race, Blett with much tense, more riches, and some grace; Yet, led aftray by Venus' soft delights,
5 He scarce could rule some idle appetites : For long ago, let prieits say what they cou'd, Weak fintul laymen were but flesh and blood.
But in due time, when fixty years were o’er,
These thoughts he fortify'd with reasons still,
But vainly boast the joys they never try'd,
35 And find divulg'd the secrets they would hide. The marry'd man may bear his yoke with ease, Secure at once himself and Heav'n to please ; And pass his inoffensive hours away, In bliss all night, and innocence all day : Tho' fortune change, his constant spouse remains, Augments his joys, or mitigates his pains.
But what fo pure which envious tongues will spare ? Some wicked wits have libel'd all the fair. With matchless impudence they ftyle a wife, 45 The dear-bought curfe and lawful plague of life; A bosom serpent, a domestic evil, A night-invasion, and a mid-day devil. Let not the wife these fland'rous words regard, But corse the bones of ev'ry lying bard. All other goods by Fortune's hand are giv’n, A wife is the peculiar gift of Heav'n. Vain Fortune's favours, never at a stay, Like empty thadows, pass and glide away ; One solid comfort, our eternal wife
Our grandfire Adam, ere of Eve pofseft,
A wife! ah gentle deities ! can he