Retirement, hail! though ridicul'd by Pride,
Sublime th' affociates in thy bower abide.
Sublime thy joys, however difavow'd
By Instinct's herd, the profligate and proud.

Though round thy bower no pompous buildings ftare,
Nor Tate's capricious vanities be there;
Within the sweet recefs Truth loves to dwell;
And meek Simplicity adorns the cell:
Learning the volume of the world displays,
Blaz'ning the wonders of the SIRE OF DAYS:
Genius, with eye undazzled by the fun,
Traces each footstep where Old Time has run
Science the exhauftlefs univerfe explores,
Dives to the bottom, to the fummit foars:
There Contemplation by fage Wifdom led,
"Holds her high converfe with the mighty dead."
While fair Content and Peace, congenial powers,
Crown with delight the confecrated hours.

Retirement, hail! beneath thy fostering care
The Mufe first gives her callow wing to air;
To thee the liberal Arts their luftre owe,
Plants, that reward the foil wherein they grow.

From thee the POET- whofe illumin'd
page
Glows, like the Sun, above the wrecks of age:
From thee the SAGE-whofe meditative mind
Prescribes the Laws that civilize mankind :
From thee th' HISTORIAN-whofe fagacious pen
To man inculcates his first study, MEN:
From thee the keen PHILOSOPHER-whofe eye
Darts through the glooms that fhroud futurity.
From thee, Retirement! ALL their glories claim ;
Thine the firft triumphs in the fields of fame.

BLEST is his lot, from Vice, from Felly free,
Whofe tranquil paffions are arrang'd by thee!
To him, though Faction's difcontented rout
Pronounce deftruction-while themselves are out;
Though counties, with endemic frenzy curs'd,
Contend and war which cypher shall be first,
To him the clamour but one forrow brings,
That men should madden for fuch idle things.-

When, darting radiance o'er the brightening fky,
The fun renews his race: or while, on high
The dewy clouds involve the morning ray,
As loth to yield their ftation to the day,
How fweet the opening morn!-the genial hour
RETIREMENT! calls thy votary from thy bower,

Το

To meet fair health upon the mountain's fide :
There, while blue mifts the lower vallies hide,
Health and her rofe-lipt zephyrs meet, to pay
Their balmy fragrance to the new-born day.

When Evening hovers, in her noiseless car,
Upon the fhadowy bofom of the air,

What time the star, that bids the dews arife,
Drinks the last radiance of the western skies,
And Nature breathes refrefli'd-quick let my feet,
Retirement! haften to thy lov'd retreat:

There, while each paffion calm'd, and with refin'd,
Expand the heart, and elevate the mind;
Let Fancy bear me to th' immortal clime,
Where POESY, above the moon fublime,
With Infpiration dwells-Or, let me hold
Converfe with fages of the years of old;
And gleaning ev'ry truth and moral art,
Treafure the living harveft in my heart.

A

STANZAS on FUTURE FAME.

[From FORDYCE'S POEMS.]

H me! what countless myriads lie entomb'd,
To deep forgetfulness for ever doom'd,
Who once adorn'd life's active stage,
Who fhone the wonders of their age,
And hop'd pofterity to charm,
By their atchievements to difarm
Time's ruthless ali-oppofing force,

And give their fame an endless course!

No more, alas! are heard the high acclaims

That promis'd to tranfmit the glory of their names.

Thofe very names have long on earth been loft:
In folemn filence funk their loudest boast!

Soon were their gaudy enfigns torn ;

Soon were their gilded fcutcheons worn;
Their marble monuments no more
Are feen to tell they liv'd before:
All, all is vanifh'd like a dream.

Yet pride ftill hopes to be the theme

Of praife unwearied to the wond'ring world;

Nor fears to be forgot, when from its confines hurl'd!

While you are acting your allotted part,

Well-tim'd applaufe, no doubt, will chear the heart,
Your languid powers demand fuch aid;

Without it virtue soon would fade.

Virtue,

Virtue, alas! is weak at best,
And flight her hold upon the breast.
Self-love could ne'er content the mind:
She feeks the fanction of her kind.

But when Heav'n's awful verdict once is past,
What can avail to her Fame's fondest, loudest blast ?

Or grant its notes could pierce the ear of Death;
They could not yet reftore the vital breath,
Or call forth pleasure in the tomb,
Or change or fix your final doom.
The world's joint plaudit ftill were vain:
Each foul would in the place remain,
Affign'd her by the Judge fupreme,
Whofe approbation, or whofe blame,
Muft ftamp the colour of her fate,

In that untry'd, unfeen, and dread eternal state.

VIRTUE and ORNAMENT: an ODE to the LADIES.

[From the fame Publication.]

HE diamond's and the ruby's rays

Tshine with a milder, finer flame,

And more attract our love and praise
Than beauty's felf, if loft to fame.

But the sweet tear in pity's eye

Tranfcends the diamond's brightest beams;
And the foft blush of Modesty

More precious than the ruby feems.

The glowing gem, the fparkling ftone,
May ftrike the fight with quick furprise;

But Truth and Innocence alone

Can ftill engage the good and wife.

No glitt❜ring ornament or show
Will aught avail in grief or pain:
Only from inward worth can flow
Delight that ever shall remain.

Behold ye fair, your lovely queen!
'Tis not her jewels, but her reind;
A meeker, purer, ne'er was feen;
It is her virtue charms mankind!

PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE to the HEIRESS. By the Right Hon. RICHARD FITZPATRICK.

A

S sprightly fun-beams gild the face of day,
When low'ring tempelts calmly glide away,
So when the poet's dark horizon clears,
Array'd in fmiles, the Epilogue appears.
She of that house the lively emblem still,
Whose brilliant fpeakers ftart what themes they will;
Still varying topics for her fportive rhymes,
From all the follies of thefe fruitful times;
Uncheck'd by forms, with flippant hand may cull,
Prologues, like Peers, by privilege are dull.
In folemn ftrain addrefs th' affembled pit,
The legal judges of dramatic wit,
Confining fill, with dignify'd decorum,
Their obfervations-to the play before 'em.
Now when each bachelor a helpmate lacks,
(That sweet exemption from a double tax)
When laws are fram'd with a benignant plan
Of lightning burdens on the married man,
And Hymen adds one folid comfort more,
To all thofe comforts he conferr'd before;
To smooth the rough laborious road to fame,
Our bard has chofen-an alluring name.
As wealth in wedlock oft is known to hide
The imperfections of a homely bride,
This tempting title, he perhaps expects,
May heighten beauties and conceal defects:

Thus Sixty's wrinkles view'd through Fortune's glass,
The rofy dimples of Sixteen furpafs:

The modern Suitor grafps his fair one's hand,
O'erlooks her perfon, and adores-her land;
Leers on her houses with an ogling eye,
O'er her rich aeres heaves an amrous tigh,

His heart-felt pangs through groves of-timber vents,
And runs distracted for-her three per cents.

Will thus the poet's mimic Heiress find,
The bridegroom critic to her failings blind,
Who claims, alas! his nicer taste to hit,
The lady's portion paid in ferling wit?
On your decrees, to fix her future fate,
Depends cur Heirefs for her whole estate:
Rich in your fmiles, the charms th' admiring town;
A very bankrupt, fhould you chance to frown:
O may a verdict given in your applaufe,
Pronounce the profp'rous iffue of her caufe,
Confirm the name an ancient parent gave her,
And prove her HEIRESS of the Public favour.

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE to the HEIRESS.

HE Comic Mufe, who here erects her shrine,
To court your offerings, and accepts of mine,
Sends me to state an anxious author's plea,

And wait with humble hope this court's decree.
By no prerogative will the decide,

She vows an English jury is her pride.

Then for our HEIRESS-forc'd from finer air,
That lately fann'd her plumes in Berkeley-fquare;
Will he be helpless in her new refort,

And find no friends about the Inns of Court?
Sages, be candid, though you hate a knave,
Sure, for example, you'll a Rightly fave.
Be kind for once, ye clerks-ye sportive Sirs,
Who haunt our theatres in boots and fpurs,
So may you fafely prefs your nightly hobby,
Run the whole ring-and end it in the lobby.
Lovers of truth, be kind, and own that here,
That love is ftrain'd as far as it will bear.
Poets may write-Philofophers may dream-
But would the world bear truth in the extreme ?
What, not one Blandif left behind! not one!
Poets are mute, and painters all undone :
Where are thofe charms that nature's term furvive,
The maiden bloom that glows at forty-five?
Truth takes the pencil-wrinkle-freckles-fquint,
The whole's transform'd-the devil's in't,
Dimples turn fcars, the fmile becomes a fcowl!
The hair the ivy-bufh, the face the owl.

But fhall an author mock the flatterer's pow'r?
Oh, might you all be Blandishes this hour!
Then would the candid jurors of the pir,
Grant their mild paffport to the realms of wit;
Then would I mount the car where oft I ride,
And place the favour'd culprit by my fide.
To aid our flight-one fafhionable hint-
See my authority-a Morning Print-

"We learn"- obferve it ladies-" France's Queen,
"Loves, like our own, a heart-directed scene;

"And while each thought the weighs, each beauty fcans, "Breaks, in one night's app'aufe, a fcore of fans!"

Beating her fan against her hand.

Adopt the mode, ye belles-fo end my prattle,
And fhew how you'll out-do a Bourbon rattle.

An