Not different have I feen in dreary vault Difplay'd, a coffin; on each fable fide The texture unmolested feems entire. Fraudful, when touch'd it glides to duft away! And leaves the wondering swain to gape, or stare, And with expreffive fhrug, and piteous figh, Declare the fatal force of rolling years,
Or dire extent of frail mortality.
This aged vefture, fcorn of gazing beaux, And formal.cits, (themselves too haply fcorn'd) Both on its fleeve and on its skirt, retains Full many a pin wide-fparkling: for, if e'er Their well-known creft met his delighted eye, Though wrapt in thought, commercing with the sky, He, gently stooping, fcorn'd not to upraise, And on each fleeve, as confcious of their use, Indenting fix them; nor, when arm'd with these, The cure of rents and separations dire,
And chasms enormous, did he view dismay'd Hedge, bramble, thicket, bush, portending fate To breeches, coat and hose! had any wight Of vulgar skill, the tender texture own'd; But gave his mind to form a fonnet quaint Of Silvia's fhoe-ftring, or of Cloe's fan, Or fweetly-fashion'd tip of Celia's ear. Alas! by frequent use decays the force Of mortal art! the refractory robe Eludes the taylor's art, eludes his own; How potent once, in union quaint conjoin'd!
See near his bed (his bed too falfely call'd The place of reft, while it a Bard sustains; Pale, meagre, Mufe-rid wight! who reads in vain Narcotic volumes o'er) his candlestick,
Radiant machine, when from the plastic hand Of Mulciber, the mayor of Birmingham,
The engine iffued; now alas difguis'd
By many an unctuous tide, that wandering down Its fides congeal; what he, perhaps, essays With humour forc'd, and ill-diffembled fmile, Idly to liken to the poplar's trunk
When o'er its bark the lucid amber, wound In many a pleafing fold, incrufts the tree. Or fuits him more the winter's candy'd thorn, When from each branch, anneal'd, the works of frol Pervafive, radiant ificles depend?
How fhall I fing the various ill that waits The careful fonneteer? or who can paint The shifts enormous, that in vain he forms To patch his panelefs window; to cement His batter'd tea-pot, ill-retentive vase? To war with ruin? anxious to conceal Want's fell appearance, of the real ill Nor foe, nor fearful. Ruin unforeseen Invades his chattels; ruin will invade ; Will claim his whole invention to repair, Nor, of the gift, for tuneful ends defign'd, Allow one part to decorate his fong. While ridicule, with ever-pointing hand Confcious of every shift, of every shift
Indicative, his inmoft plot betrays,
Points to the nook, which he his study calls Pompous and vain! for thus he might esteem His cheft, a wardrobe; purfe, a treasury; And fhews, to crown her full difplay, himself. One whom the powers above, in place of health, And wonted vigour; of paternal cot,
Or little farm; of bag, or fcrip, or staff, Cup, difh, fpoon, plate, or worldly utenfil, A poet fram'd; yet fram'd not to repine, And wish the cobler's loftieft fite his own; Nor, partial as they feem, upbraid the fates, Who to the humbler mechanism, join'd
Goods fo fuperior, fuch exalted bliss!
See with what feeming ease, what labour'd peace, He, hapless hypocrite! refines his nail,
His chief amufement! then how feign'd, how forc'd, That care-defying fonnet, which implies
His debts difcharg'd, and he of half a crown In full poffeffion, uncontested right
And property! Yet ah! whoe'er this wight Admiring view, if fuch there be, distrust The vain pretence; the smiles that harbour grief As lurks the ferpent deep in flowers enwreath'd. Forewarn'd, be frugal; or with prudent rage Thy pen demolish; chufe the truftier flail, And bless those labours which the choice inspir'd. But if thou view'ft a vulgar mind, a wight Of common fenfe, who feeks no brighter name, Him envy, him admire, him, from thy breaft,
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 shall 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 peace with olive crown'd regains Her lawful throne, and to the facred haunts Of wood or fount the frighted Muse returns. Happy the Bard, who, from his native hills, : Soft musing on a fummer's eve, surveys 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 fhouts, Or taunts, the rhetoric of the watery crew That ape confufion from the realms they rule! S 2
Fearless of thefe; who fhares the gentler voice Of peace and mufic; birds of fweeteft fong Attune from native boughs their various lay, And chear the foreft; 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 verse, by female voice endear'd, Crowns his delight, and mollifies the scene. If folitude his wandering fteps 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 scoop'd at firft by superstitious hands The rugged cell receiv'd alone the shoals 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
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