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From fix till ten! Unless I seep, i
One cannot spend the hours fo cheap.
The comedy's no sooner done,
But some afsembly is begun.
Loit’ring, from room to room I stray,
Converse, but nothing hear or say;
Quite tir'd, from fair to fair I roam,
So soon! I dread the thoughts of home.
From thence to quicken flow-pac'd night,
Again my tavern friends invite ;
Here too our early mornings pass,
"Till drowsy sleep retards the glass.
Thus they their wretched life bemoan,
And make each other's case their own.
Consider, friends, no hour rolls on,
But something of our grief is gone.
Were you to schemes of bus'nefs bred,
Did you the paths of learning tread,
Your hours, your days would fly too fast;
You'd then regret the minute past.
Time's fugitive and light as wind;
'Tis indolence that clogs your inind:
That load from off your spirits shake,
You'll own, and grieve for your mistake.
A while your thoughtless spleen suspend,
Then read; and, if you can, attend.
As Plutus, to divert his care, .
Walk'd forth one morn to take the air,
Cupid o’ertook his ftrutting pace :
Each star'd upon the stranger's face,
'Till recollection fet 'em right;
For each knew t'other but by fight.
After some complimental talk,
Time met them, bow'd, and join'd their walk.
Their chat on various subjects ran,
But most, what each had done for man.
Plutus assumes a haughty air,
Just like our purse-proud fellows here.
He treated industry with slight,
Unless he found his profit by't:
Rights, laws, and liberties gave way,
To bring his selfish fchemes in play:
The swarm forgot the common toil,
To share the gleanings of his spoil.
While vulgar fouls, of narrow parts,
Waste life in low mechanic arts,
Let us, says he, to genius born,
The drudg'ry of our fathers. fcorn..
The Wasp and Drone, you must agree,
Live with more elegance than we;
Like gentlemen they fport and play,
No bus'ness interrupts the day; .
Their hours to luxury they give,
And nobly on their neighbours live.
A stubborn Bee among the swarm,
With honest indignation warm,
Thus from his cell with zeal reply'd :
I slight thy frowns, and hate thy pride,
The laws our native rights protect;
Offending thee, I those respect...
Shall luxury corrupt the hive,
And none against the torrent Itrive?
Exert the honour of your race;
He builds his rise on your disgrace.
'Tis industry your state maintains :
'Twas honest toils and honest gains
That rais'd our fires to pow'r and fame.
Bo virtuous ; fave yourselves from shame :
Know, that in felfish ends pursuing,
You scramble for the public ruin.
He spoke; and from his cell disiniss'd,
Was infolently scoff'd and hiss’d.
With him a friend or two resign'd, .
Disdaining the dëgen'rate kind.
Those drones, says he, these insects vile, (I treat them in their proper stile) .
May for a time oppress the state,
They own our virtue by their hate;
By that our merits they reveal,
And recommend our public zeal ;
Disgrac'd by this corrupted crew,
We're honour'd by the virtuous few.
LXI. The PACK-Horse and the CARRIER.
To a Young Nobleman.
PEGIN, my Lord, in early youth,
D To suffer, nay, encourage truth ;
And blame me not for disrespect,
If I the flatt'rers stile reject;
With that, by menial tongues- fupply'd,
You're daily cocker'd up in pride.
The tree's distinguish'd by the fruit :
Be virtue then your first pursuit ;
Set your great ancestors in view,
Like them deserve the title too :.
Like them ignoble actions scorn,
Let virtue prove you greatly born.
Tho' with less plate their fideboards flone,
Their conscience always was their own;
They ne'er at levees meanly fawn'd,
Nor was their honour yearly pawn'd;
Their hands, by no corruption stain'd,
The ministerial' bribe disdain'd;
They serv'd the crown with loyal zeal,
Yet jealous of the public weal;
They stood the bulwark of our laws,
And wore at heart their country's caufe ;
By neither place or pension bought,
They spoke and voted as they thought.
Thus did your fires adorn their feat;
And fuch alone are truly great.
If you the paths of learning flight,
You're but a dunce in stronger light :
In foremost rank the coward plac'd,
Is more conspicuously disgrac'd. '
If you, to serve a paltry end, .
To knavish jobs can condescend,
We pay you the contempt that's due ;
In that you have precedence too.
Whence had you this illustrious name?
From virtue and unblemish'd fame.
By birth alone the name defcends;
Your honour on yourself depends.
Think not your coronet can hide
Afsuming ignorance and pride : '
Learning by ftudy must be won,
"Twas ne'er entails from son to son.
Superior worth your rank requires,
For that mankind reveres your fires :
If you degen'rate from your race,
Their merits heighten your disgrace.
A Carrier every night and morn,
Would see his horses eat their corn :
This sunk the hoftler's vails, 'tis true,
But then his horses had their due.
Were we so cautious in all cases,
Small gain would rise from greater places.
The manger now had all its measure,
He heard the grinding teeth with pleasure ;
When all at once confusion rung,
They snorted, joftled, bit, and fung.
A Pack-horse turn'd his head aside,
Foaming, his eyeballs swell’d with pride.
Good Gods ! says he, how hard's my lot!
Is then my high descent forgot ?.
Reduc'd to drudg’ry and disgrace,
(A life unworthy of my race)
Must I too bear the vile attacks
Of ragged scrubs and vulgar hacks?
See scurvy Roan, that brute ill-bred,
Dares from the manger thrust my head!
Shall I, who boast a noble line,
On offalls of these creatures dine ?
Kick'd by old Ball ! so mean a foe!
My honour suffers by the blow;
Newmarket speaks my grandfire's fame,
All jockies still revere his name:
There yearly are his triumphs told,
There all his maffy plates enroll'd :
Whene'er led forth upon the plain,
You saw him with a liv'ry train ;
Returning too, with laurels crown'd,
You heard the drums and trumpets found.
Let it then, Sir, be understood,
Respect's my due, for I have blood.
Vain-glorious fool, the Carrier cry'd,
Respect was never paid to pride.
Know, 'twas thy giddy, wilful heart,
Reduc'd thee to this slavilh part.
Did not thy headstrong youth disdain -
To learn the conduct of the rein ?
Thus coxcombs, blind to real merit,
In vicious frolics fancy spirit.
What is't to me by whom begot ?
Thou restive, pert, conceited fot.
Your fires I rev’rence, 'tis their due ;
But, worthless fool, what's that to you?
Ask all the carriers on the road,
They'll say thy keeping's ill. bestow'd.
Then vaunt no more thy noble race,
That neither mends thy strength nor pace.,
What profits me thy boast of blood ?
An ass hath more intrinsic good.
By outward show let's not be cheated ;
An ass should like an ass be treated.