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The beafts are charter'd-neither age nor force
Can quell the love of freedom in a horse:
He breaks the cord that held him at the rack,
And, conscious of an unincumber'd back,
Snuffs up the morning air, forgets the rein,
Loofe fly his forelock and his ample mane;
Refponfive to the diftant neigh he neighs,
Nor ftops, till, overleaping all delays,
He finds the pasture where his fellows graze.
Canft thou, and honor'd with a Christian
Buy what is woman-born, and feel no shame?
Trade in the blood of innocence, and plead
Expedience as a warrant for the deed ?
So may the wolf, whom famine has made bold
To quit the foreft and invade the fold;
So may the ruffian, who with ghoftly glide,
Dagger in hand, fteals close to your bed-fide;
Not he, but his emergence forc'd the door,
He found it inconvenient to be poor.

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Has God then giv'n its sweetness to the cane,
Unless its laws be trampled on-in vain ?
Built a brave world, which cannot yet subsist,
Unless his right to rule it be dismiss'd?
Impudent blafphemy! fo folly pleads,
And, av'rice being judge, with cafe fucceeds.
But grant the plea, and let it ftand for juft,
That man make man his prey,
because he must,
Still there is room for pity to abate,

And foothe the forrows of fo fad a ftate.
A Briton knows, or if he knows it not,
The Scripture plac'd within his reach, he ought,
That fouls have no difcriminating hue,
Alike important in their Maker's view;
That none are free from blemish fince the fall,
And love divine has paid one price for all.

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COWPER.

HOW

Lessons of Wisdom.

OW to live happiest; how avoid the pains, The disappointments, and disgufts of those Who would in pleasure all their hours employ; The precepts here of a divine old man

I could recite. Tho' old, he ftill retain'd
His manly fenfe, and energy of mind.
Virtuous and wife he was, but not severe;
He ftill remember'd that he once was young;
His eafy prefence check'd no decent joy,
Him even the diffolute admir'd; for he
A graceful looseness when he pleas'd put on,
And laughing could inftruct. Much had he read,
Much more had feen; he ftudied from the life,
And in th' original perus'd mankind.

Vers'd in the woes and vanities of life,
He pitied man: And much he pitied thofe
Whom falfely-fmiling Fate has curs'd with means
To diffipate their days in queft of joy.
Our aim is Happinefs; 'tis yours, 'tis mine,
He faid, 'tis the pursuit of all that live;
Yet few attain it, if 'twas e'er attain’d.
But they the wideft wander from the mark,
Who through the flow'ry paths of faunt'ring Joy
Seek this coy Goddefs; that from ftage to ftage
Invites us ftill, but fhifts as we pursue.

For, not to name the pains that pleasure brings
To counterpoise itself, relentless Fate

Forbids that we through gay voluptuous wilds
Should ever roam : And were the Fates more kind,
Our narrow luxuries would foon be ftale.
Were these exhaustlefs, Nature would grow fick,
And cloy'd with pleasure, fqueamishly complain
That all was vanity, and life a dream.
Let nature reft: Be bufy even in vain
And for your friend; be bufy for yourself
Rather than teaze her fated appetites.

Who never fafts, no banquet e'er enjoys;
Let nature rest: And when the taste of joy
Grows keen, indulge; but fhun fatiety.
'Tis not for mortals always to be bleft.
But him the leaft the dull or painful hours
Of life opprefs, whom fober Senfe conducts,
And Virtue through this labyrinth we tread.
Virtue and Senfe I mean not to disjoin;
Virtue and Sense are one: And truft me, he
Who has not virtue is not truly wife.
Virtue (for mere good-nature is a fool)
Is fenfe and fpirit, with humanity:

'Tis fometimes angry, and its frown confounds;
'Tis even vindictive, but in vengeance juft.

Knaves fain would laugh at it; fome great ones dare;

But at his heart the most undaunted fon

Of fortune dreads its name and awful charms.

To nobleft ufes this determines wealth:
This is the folid pomp of profperous days;
The peace and fhelter of adverfity.
And if you pant for glory, build your fame
On this foundation, which the secret shock
Defies of Envy and all-fapping Time.
The gaudy glofs of Fortune only strikes
The vulgar eye: The fuffrage of the wife,
The praife that's worth ambition is attain'd
By Senfe alone, and dignity of mind.

Virtue, the ftrength and beauty of the foul,
Is the best gift of heaven: A happinefs
That even above the fmiles and frowns of fate
Exalts great Nature's favourites: A wealth
That ne'er encumbers, nor to baser hands
Can be transferr'd: It is the only good
Man juftly boafts of, or can call his own.
Riches are oft by guilt and bafenefs earn'd;
Or dealt by chance, to fhield a lucky knave,
Or throw a cruel fun-fhine on a fool.
But for one end, one much-neglected ufe,
Are riches worth your care (for Nature's wants

Are few, and without opulence supplied)
This noble end is to produce the Soul:
To fhew the virtues in their fairest light;
To make Humanity the Minifter

Of bounteous Providence; and teach the breaft
That gen'rous luxury the Gods enjoy.

Thus, in his graver vein, the friendly Sage Sometimes declaim'd. Of Right and Wrong he taught Truths as refin'd as ever Athens heard;

And (ftrange to tell!) he practis'd what he preach'd.

ARMSTRONG.

Hymn to Adversity.

AUGHTER of Jove, relentless power,

D'Thou tamer of the human breaft,

Whose iron scourge and tott'ring hour,
The bad affright, afflict the best
Bound in thy adamantine chain,
The proud are taught to tafte of pain,
And purple tyrants vainly groan

With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alone.

When first thy fire to fend to earth
Virtue, his darling child, defign'd,
To thee he gave the heav'nly birth,
And bade to form her infant mind.
Stern rugged nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore:
What forrow was, thou bad'ft her know,

And from her own fhe learn'd to melt at others' woe.

Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly

Self-pleafing Folly's idle brood,

Wild Laughter, Noife, and thoughtless Joy,
And leave us leifure to be good.
Light they difperfe, and with them go
The fummer Friend, the flatt'ring Foe;
By vain Profperity receiv'd,

To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd.

Wifdom in fable garb array'd, Immers'd in rapt'rous thought profound, And Melancholy, filent maid,

With leaden eye, that loves the ground,

Still on thy folemn steps attend :
Warm Charity, the gen'ral friend,
With Juftice, to herself severe,

And Pity, dropping foft the fadly pleasing tear.

Oh, gently on thy fuppliant's head,
Dear Goddess, lay thy chaft'ning hand!
Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Nor circled with the vengeful band,
(As by the impious thou art feen)

With thund'ring voice and threat'ning mien,
With fcreaming Horror's funeral cry,
Defpair and fell Difeafe, and ghastly Poverty.

Thy form benign, oh Goddefs, wear,
Thy milder influence impart,
Thy philofophic train be there
To foften, not to wound my heart.

The gen'rous fpark extinct revive,
Teach me to love and to forgive,
Exact my own defects to fcan,

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What others are, to feel, and know myfelf a man.

GRAY.

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