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And let them virtue with a look impart;
But chief a while, O ! lend us from the tomb;
Those long-lost friends for whom in love we smart,
And fill with pious awe and joy-mixt woe the heart


Or are you sportive ?—bid the morn of youth
Rise to new light, and beam afresh the days.-
Of innocence, simplicity, and truth,
To cares estrang’d, and manhood's thorny ways,
What transport, to retrace our boyish plays,
Our easy bliss, when each thing joy supply’d,
The woods, the mountains, and the warbling maze
Of the wild brooks !-But, fondly wandering wide,
My Muse! resume the task that yet doth thee abide. .


One great

amusement of our household was,. In a huge cryftal magic globe to spy, Still as you turn’d it, all things that do pafs. Upon this ant-hill earth ; 'where constantly Of idly-busy men the restless fry Run bustling to and fro with foolish haftė, In search of pleasures vain that from the fly, Or which obtain'd the caitiffs dare not taste : When nothing is enjoy'd, can there be greater waste :



Of Vanity the Mirtour this was callid,
Here you a muckworm of the town might see,
At his duti desk, amid his legers fallid,
Ate up with carking care and penurie.
Moft like to carcafe parch'd on gallow-tree.
6. A penny faved is a penny got ;'
Firm to this scoundrel maxim keepeth he,
Ne of its rigour will he bate a jot,
Till it has quench'd his fire and banished his pot.

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Strait from the filth' of this low grub, behold !
Comes fluttering forth a gaudy spendthrift heir,
All glofly gay, enamell’d all with gold,
The filly tenant of the summer-air,
In folly lost, of nothing takes he care ;
Pimps, lawyers, ftewards, harlots, flatterers vile,
And thieving tradesmen, him among them share :
His father's ghoft from Limbo-lake, the while,
Sees this, which more damnation doth


him pile.


This globe pourtray'd the race of learned men
Still at their books, and turning o'er the page
Backwards and forwards: oft they snatch'd the pen,
As if inspir’d, and in a Thespian rage,
Then write, and blot, as w



Why, Authors ! all this scrawl and scribbling lore?
To lose the present, gain the future age,
Praised to be when you can hear no more.
And much enrich'd'with fame when useless worldly store?


Then would a splendid city rise to view.
With carts, and cars, and coaches, roaring all':
Wide pour'd abroad behold the giddy crew,
See how they dash along from wall to wall!
At every door, hark how they thundering call !
Good Lord ! what can this giddy rout excite ?
Why, on each other with fell tooth to fall,
A neighbour's fortune, famé, or peace, to blight,
And make new tiresome parties for the coming night.


The puzzling sons of Party next appear’d.
In dark cabals and nightly juntos mei,
And now they whisper'd close, now shrugging rear'd
Th' important shoulder : then, as if to get
New light, their twinkling eyes were inward set.
No sooner Lucifer recalls affairs,
Than forth they various rush in mighty fret ;
When, lo! push'd up to power, and crown'd their cares,
In comes another seit, and kicketh them down stairs.



But what most fhcw'd the vanity of life,
Was to behold the nations all on fire,
In cruel broils engag'd, and deadly strife,
Molt Christian kings, inflam’d by black desire,
With honourable ruffians in their hire,
Cause war to rage, and blood around to pour :
Of this fad work when cach begins to, tire,
They fit them down just where they were before.
Till for new scenes of woe peace shall their force restore,


To number


the thousands dwelling here,
An useless were, and eke an endless talk ;
From kings, and those who at the helm appear,
To gipfies brown in summer-glades who bask.
Yea many a man, perdie, I could unmask,
Whose desk and table make a solemn show,
With tape-ty'd trath, and fuits of fools that alk
For place or pension laid in decent row:
But these I passen by, with nameless numbers moe.


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Of all the gentle tenants of the place,
There was a man of special grave remark :
A certain tender gloom o'erspread his face un
Pensive, not fad, in thought involv’d, not dark ;
As foot this man could fing as morning lark,


And teach the noblest morals of the heart;
But these his talents were, y buried stark;
Of the fine flores he nothing would impart,
Which or boon Nature gave, or natyre-painted Art.

To noonude shades incontinent he ran,
Where purls the brook with sleep-inviting found,
Or when Dan Sol to flope his wheels began,
Amid the broom he bask'd him on the ground,
Where the wild thyme and camomoil are found;
There would he linger, till the latest ray
Of light fate trembling on the welkin's bound,
Then homeward thro' the twilight fhadows ftray.
Sauntering and flow: fo had he passed many a day.

LIX. in

Yet not in thoughtlefs flumber were they past;
For oft' the heavenly fire, that lay conceal'd
Beneath the sleeping embers, mounted fast,
And all its native light anew reveald:
Oft' as he travers'd the cerulean field,
And markt the clouds that drove before the wind,
Ten thousand glorious systems would he build,
Ten thousand great ideas filld his mind;
But with the clouds they fled, and left no trace behind,

With him was sometimes join'd, in silent walk,
(Profoundly 'Glent, for they never spoke)


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