Such bargains are an arrant cheat: You purchase flattery and deceit. Those who true love have ever try'd (The 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 power, nor wealth, nor friends. Love, then, hath every blifs in ftore;
'Tis friendship, and 'tis fomething more. Each other every wish 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 boon's neglected or mif-fpent. "Tis I who measure vital space, And deal out years to human race.
Who then would think (fince fuch my power)
That e'er I knew an idle hour?
So fubtle and fo fwift I fly,
Love's not more fugitive than I.
Who hath not heard coquettes complain Of days, months, years, mis-spent in vain? For time mifus'd they pine and waste,
And love's fweet pleasures 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 heedlefs then are mortals grown! How little is their interest known! In every 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 confest,
That Time (when truly understood)
Is the most precious earthly good.
THE OWL, THE SWAN, THE COCK, THE SPIDER,
CONVERSING with your sprightly 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. A&t you your part; Imprint just morals on their heart; Impartially their talents scan: 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 stuck at no expence ; I've try'd him in the feveral 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;
'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 him (nor think his genius checkt)
A herald or an architect."
Perhaps (as commonly 'tis known)
He heard th' advice, and took his own.
The boy wants wit; he's fent to fchool,
Where learning but improves the fool.
The college next muft 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 fexton share 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 every poft were fit.
But now let every Mufe confefs
That merit finds its due fuccefs. Th' examples of our days regard; Where 's virtue feen without reward? Diftinguish'd and in place you find Defert and worth of every kind. Survey the reverend bench, and fee Religion, learning, piety: The patron, ere he recommends, Sees his own image in his friend's. Is honesty 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. Provided that his clerk was good, What though he nothing understood? In church and state the forry race
Grew more confpicuous fools in place. Such heads, as then a treaty made, Had bungled in the cobbler's trade.
Confider, Patrons, that fuch 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 folemn voice, of brow auftere, Affum'd the pride of human race, And bore his wisdom in his face; Not to depreciate learned eyes,
I've seen a pedant look as wife.
Within a barn, from noife retir'd,
He fcorn'd the world, himfelf admir'd; And, like an ancient fage, conceal'd The follies public life reveal'd.
Philofophers of old, he read,
Their country's youth to fcience bred, Their manners form'd for every And deftin'd each his occupation. When Xenophon, by numbers brav'd, Retreated, and a people fav'd,
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