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From fix till ten! Unless I fleep,
One cannot spend the hours fo cheap.
The comedy's no fooner done,
But fome affembly is begun.
Loit'ring, from room to room I stray,
Converfe, but nothing hear or fay;
Quite tir'd, from fair to fair I roam,
So foon! I dread the thoughts of home.
From thence to quicken flow-pac'd night,
Again my tavern friends invite;

Here too our early mornings pafs,
'Till drowsy fleep retards the glafs.

Thus they their wretched life bemoan,
And make each other's cafe their own.
Confider, friends, no hour rolls on,
But fomething 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 faft;
You'd then regret the minute paft.
Time's fugitive and light as wind;
'Tis indolence that clogs your mind:
That load from off your fpirits fhake,
You'll own, and grieve for your mistake.
A while your thoughtlefs fpleen fufpend,
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 ftar'd upon the ftranger's face,
'Till recollection fet 'em right;

For each knew t'other but by fight.
After fome complimental talk,

Time met them, bow'd, and join'd their walk.

Their chat on various fubjects ran,

But most, what each had done for man.
Plutus affumes a haughty air,

Just like our purfe-proud fellows here.

A

Let

Let kings, fays he, let coblers tell, Whofe gifts among mankind excel. Confider courts: What draws their train? Think you, 'tis loyalty or gain? That ftatefman hath the ftrongest hold, Whofe tool of politics is Gold: By that, in former reigns, 'tis faid, The knave in power hath fenates led: By that alone he fway'd debates, Enrich'd himself, and beggar'd states. Forego your boaft. You must conclude, That's most esteem'd that's most pursu'd. Think too, in what a woeful plight That wretch must live whose pocket's light: Are not his hours by want depreft? Penurious care corrodes his breast: Without refpect, or love, or friends, His folitary day defcends.

You might, fays Cupid, doubt my parts, My knowledge too in human hearts, Should I the power of Gold difpute, Which great examples might confute. I know, when nothing elfe prevails, Perfuafive money feldom fails; That beauty too (like other wares) Its price, as well as confcience, bears. Then marriage, as of late profest, Is but a money job at best: Confent, compliance may be fold; But Love's beyond the price of Gold. Smugglers there are, who, by retail, Expofe what they call Love to fale: Such bargains are an arrant cheat; You purchase flatt'ry and deceit. Thofe who true Love have ever try'd, (Thofe common cares of life fupply'd) No wants endure, no wishes make, But every real joy partake;

All comfort on themfelves depends,

They want nor pow'r, nor wealth, nor friends:
Love then hath ev'ry blifs in ftore;

'Tis friendship, and 'tis fomething more:
Each other ev'ry wifh they give,
Not to know Love, is not to live.
Or Love, or Money, Time reply'd,
Were men the question to decide,
Would bear the prize; on both intent,
My boons neglected or misfpent.
'Tis I who meafure vital space,
And deal out years to human race:
Though little priz'd and feldom fought,
Without Me, Love and Gold are nought.
How does the mifer Time employ?
Did I e'er fee him life enjoy;
By me forfook, the hoards he won
Are fcatter'd by his lavish fon,
By me all useful arts he gain'd,
Wealth, learning, wifdom are attain'd.
Who then would think, fince fuch my pow'r,
That e'er I knew an idle hour?

So fubtile and fo fwift I fly,

Love's not more fugitive than I.

Who hath not heard coquettes complain
Of days, months, years misfpent in vain?
For Time mifus'd they pine and waste,
And Love's fweet pleafures never taste.
Those who direct their Time aright,
If Love or Wealth their hopes excite,
In each purfuit fit hours employ'd,
And both by Time have been enjoy'd.
How heedlets then are mortals grown!
How little is their int'reft known?
In ev'ry view they ought to mind me,
For when once loft they never find me.
He spoke. The Gods no more contest,
And his fuperior gift confeft:

That

That Time (when truly understood)
Is the most precious earthly good.

LXIV. The OWL, the SWAN, the COCK, the SPIDER, the Ass, and the FARMER.

CON

To a MOTHER.

YONVERSING with your fprightly boys,
Your eyes have spoke the Mother's joys:
With what delight I've heard you quote
Their fayings in imperfect note!

I grant in body and in mind,
Nature appears profufely kind :
Truft not to that. Act you your part;
Imprint juft morals on their heart;
Impartially their talents fcan:

Juft education forms the man.

Perhaps (their genius yet unknown)
Each lot of life's already thrown;
That this fhall plead, the next fhall fight,
The laft affert the church's right.

I cenfure not the fond intent;
But how precarious is th' event!
By talents mifapply'd and croft,
Confider all your fons are loft.

One day, (the tale's by Martial penn'd)
A father thus addrefs'd his friend.
To train my boy and call forth fenfe,
You know I've ftuck at no expence;
I've try'd him in the fev'ral arts,
(The lad no doubt hath latent parts)
Yet trying all he nothing knows,
But crab-like rather backwards goes.
Teach me what yet remains undone;
'Tis your advice fhall fix my fon.
Sir, fays the friend, I've weigh'd the matter;
Excufe me, for I fcorn to flatter:

Make

Make him (nor think his genius check'd)
A herald or an architect.

Perhaps (as commonly 'tis known)
He heard the advice and took his own.
The boy wants wit; he's fent to school,
Where learning but improves the fool:
The college next muft give him parts,
And cram him with the lib'ral arts.
Whether he blunders at the bar,
Or owes his infamy to war;
Or if by licence or degree,
The fexton fhare the doctor's fee;
Or from the pulpit by the hour,
He weekly floods of nonfenfe pour;
We find (th' intent of nature foil'd)
A taylor or a butcher spoil'd.

Thus minifters have royal boons
Conferr'd on blockheads and buffoons:
In fpite of nature, merit, wit,
Their friends for ev'ry poft were fit.
But now let ev'ry Mufe confess,
That merit finds its due fuccefs:
Th' examples of our days regard,
Where's virtue feen without reward?
Diftinguifh'd and in place you find
Defert and worth of ev'ry kind.
Survey the rev'rend bench, and fee
Religion, learning, piety:

The patron, 'ere he recommends,
Sees his own image in his friend's.
Is honefty difgrac'd and poor?
What is't to us what was before?

We all of times corrupt have heard,
When paltry minions were preferr'd;
When all great offices by dozens,

Were fill'd by brothers fons, and coufins,
What matter ignorance and pride?
The man was happily ally'd."

U

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