How heedless then are mortals grown!
How little is their interest known!
In every view they ought to mind me,
For when once lost they never find me."

He spoke. The gods no more contest,
And his superior gift confess'd,
That time (when truly understood)
Is the most precious earthly good.

To a Mother.

CONVERSING with your sprightly boys, Your eyes have spoke the Mother's joys. With what delight I've heard you quote Their sayings, in imperfect note.

I grant, in body and in mind Nature appears profusely kind. Trust not to that. Act you your part; Imprint just morals on their heart; Impartially their talents scan:

Just education forms the man.

Perhaps (their genius yet unknown) Each lot of life's already thrown;

That this shall plead, the next shall fight,
The last assert the church's right.

I censure not the fond intent;
But how precarious is the event!
By talents misapplied and cross'd,
Consider, all your sons are lost.

One day (the tale's by Martial penn'd)
A Father thus address'd his friend:

"To train my boy, and call forth sense,
You know I've stuck at no expense;
I've tried him in the several arts
(The lad, no doubt, hath latent parts);
Yet trying all, he nothing knows,
But, crab-like, rather backward goes.
Teach me what yet remains undone;
your advice shall fix my son."

'Tis

66

Sir," says

the friend, "I've weigh'd the matter;

Excuse me, for I scorn to flatter:

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 sent to school,
Where learning but improves the fool:
The college next must give him parts,
And cram him with the liberal arts.
Whether he blunders at the bar,
Or owes his infamy to war;
Or if by licence or degree

The sexton share the doctor's fee;

Or from the pulpit by the hour
He weekly floods of nonsense pour,
We find (the intent of Nature foil'd)
A tailor or a butcher spoil'd.

Thus ministers have royal boons
Conferr'd on blockheads and buffoons;
In spite of nature, merit, wit,
Their friends for every post were fit.

But now let every Muse confess
That merit finds its due success.
The examples of our days regard;
Where's virtue seen without reward?
Distinguished, and in place, you find
Desert and worth of every kind.
Survey the reverend bench, and see
Religion, learning, piety:

The patron, ere he recommends,
Sees his own image in his friends.
Is honesty disgraced 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,
Where fill'd by brothers, sons, and cousins.
What matter ignorance and pride ?

The man was happily allied.
Provided that his clerk was good,
What though he nothing understood?
In church and state the sorry race
Grew more conspicuous fools in place.

Such heads, as then a treaty made,
Had bungled in the cobbler's trade.

Consider, patrons, that such elves
Expose your folly with themselves.
'Tis yours, as 'tis the parent's care,
To fix each genius in its sphere.
Your partial hand can wealth dispense,
But never give a blockhead sense.
An Owl of magisterial air,

Of solemn voice, of brow austere,
Assumed the pride of human race,
And bore his wisdom in his face;
Not to depreciate learned eyes,
I've seen a pedant look as wise.

Within a barn, from noise retired,
He scorn'd the world, himself admired;
And, like an ancient sage, conceal'd
The follies public life reveal'd.

Philosophers of old he read,

Their country's youth to science bred,
Their manners form'd for every station,
And destined each his occupation.
When Xenophon, by numbers braved,
Retreated, and a people saved,
That laurel was not all his own;
The plant by Socrates was sown.

To Aristotle's greater name,
The Macedonian owed his fame.

The Athenian bird, with pride replete,

Their talents equall'd in conceit;