'Ah! why should man pursue the charms of Fame, For ever luring, yet for ever coy? Light as the gaudy rainbow's pillar'd gleam, That melts illusive from the wondering boy! 'What though her throne irradiate many a clime, If hung loose-tottering o'er th' unfathom'd tomb? What though her mighty clarion, rear'd sublime, Display the imperial wreath, and glittering plume? 'Can glittering plume, or can th' imperial wreath Redeem from unrelenting fate the brave? What note of triumph can her clarion breathe, T' alarm th' eternal midnight of the grave? That night draws on: nor will the vacant hour Of expectation linger as it flies: Nor Fate one moment unenjoy'd restore: Each moment's flight how precious to the wise! 'O shun th' annoyance of the bustling throng, That haunt with zealous turbulence the great; There coward Office boasts th' unpunished wrong, And sneaks secure in insolence of state. 'O'er fancied injury Suspicion pines, And in grim silence gnaws the festering wound; Deceit the rage-embitter'd smile refines, And Censure spreads the viperous hiss around. Hope not, fond prince, though Wisdom guard thy throne, Though Truth and Bounty prompt cach generous aim, Though thine the palm of peace, the victor's crown, The Muse's rapture, and the patriot's flame : Hope not, though all that captivates the wise, Envy, stern tyrant of the flinty heart, Can aught of Virtue, Truth, or Beauty charın ? Can soft. Compassion thrill with pleasing smart, Repentance meit, or Gratitude disarm? Ah no. Where Winter Scythia's waste enchains, And monstrous shapes roar to the ruthless storm, Not Phœbus' smile can cheer the dreadful plains, Or soil accursed with balmy life inform. Then, Envy, then is thy triumphant hour, When mourns Benevolence his baffled scheme: When Insult mocks the clemency of Power, And loud Dissension's livid firebrands gleam : 'When squint-eyed Slander plies th' unhallow'd tongue, From poison'd naw when Treason weaves his line, And muse apostate (infamy to song!) Grovels, low-muttering, at Sedition's shrine. 'Let not my prince forego the peaceful shade, The whispering grove, the fountain and the plain: Power, with th' oppressive weight of pomp array'd, Pants for simplicity and ease in vain. The yell of frantic Mirth may stun his ear, But frantic Mirth soon leaves the heart forlorn: Her influence oft the festive hamlet proves, Where the high carol cheers th' exulting ring: And oft she roams the maze of wildering groves, Listening th' unnumber'd melodies of Spring. 'Or to the long and lonely shore retires; What time, loose-glimmering to the lunar beam, Faint heaves the slumberous wave, and starry fires Gild the blue deep with many a lengthening gleam. Then to the balmy bower of Rapture borne, While strings self-warbling breathe elysian rest, Melts in delicious vision, till the morn Spangle with twinkling dew the flowery waste. The frolic Moments, purple-pinion'd, dance Around, and scatter roses as they play : And the blithe Graces, hand in hand, advance, Where, with her loved compeers, she deigns to stray. Mild Solitude, in veil of rustic die, Her sylvan spear with moss-grown ivy bound: And Indolence, with sweetly-languid eye, And zoneless robe that trails along the ground. 'But chiefly Love-0 thou, whose gentle mind Each soft indulgence Nature framed to share, Pomp, wealth, renown, dominion, all resign'd, O haste to Pleasure's bower, for Love is there. 'Love, the desire of gods! the feast of Heaven ! 'Nor I from Virtue's call decoy thine ear; "Far from thy haunt be Envy's baneful sway, And Hate, that works the harass'd soul to storm : But woo Content to breathe her soothing lay, And charm from Fancy's view each angry form 'No savage joy th' harmonious hours profane! 'Free let the feathery race indulge the song, Inhale the liberal beam, and melt in love: Well suits, O man, thy pleasurable sphere; From thankless spite no bounty can secure; To check th' impetuous all involving tide The bower of bliss, the smile of love be thine, .S Warm'd as she spoke, all panting with delight, And Flora pour'd from all her stores perfume. Thine be the prize,' exclaim'd th' enraptured youth, Queen of unrivall❜d charms, and matchless joy.”— O blind to fate, felicity, and truth !— But such are they, whom Pleasure's snares decoy. The sun was sunk; the vision was no more; And sanguine meteors glare athwart the plain; THE WOLF AND SHEPHERDS. A FABLE. (Written in 1757, and first published in 1766.) Your simile perhaps may please one |