Loudly convinces, and feverely pains.
Dark Dæmons I discharge, and Hydra-ftings: 2 The keen Vibrations of bright Truth-is Hell. Juft Definition! tho' by Schools untaught. Ye Deaf to Truth! perufe this parfon'd Page, And truft, for once, a Prophet, and a Priest, "Men may live Fools, but Fools they cannot die."
Catalogue of Books printed for, or fold by,
Peter Wilfon at Gay's-head Dame-street.
He Modern Gazetteer, by Mr. Salmon, 12mo.
The New Whole Duty of Man, 12mo.
A Tour through Ireland, 8vo.
Pharmacopoeia Coll. Reg. Medicorum Londinenfis,
The Universal History, 20 Vols. 8vo.
A New General English Dictionary, 8vo. by Thomas
A Guide to the English Tongue, 12mo. Dyche.
Joe Miller's Jefts, 12mo.
The Travels of Charles Thompson, Efq; 4Vols 12mo.
Diftreft Mother
Drummer
Double Dealer
OEdipus
Æfop
Earl of Effex
Funeral
Fair Penitent
Henry IVth
Hamlet
King John
Julius Cæfar
Love for Love
Love's laft Shift
Lying Valet
Mourning Bride
Sir Courtly Nice
Sir Harry Wildair
Siege of Damascus
Spanish Fryar
She Gallants
State of Innocence
Sophonisba
Tamerlane
Timon of Athens
Tempest
Twin Rivals
Venice Preserved
Virtue Betray'd
Way of the World
ORENZO! to recriminate is Juft.
Fondefs for Fame is Avarice of Air.
I grant the Man is vain, who writes for
Praise.
Praise no Man ere deferv'd, who fought no more.
As just thy Second Charge. I grant the Mufe
Has often blush'd at her degen'rate Sons,
Retain'd by Senfe to plead her filthy Cause;
To raise the Low, to magnify the Mean,
And fubtilize the Grofs into Refin'd:
As if to magick Numbers pow'rful Charm
E
'Twas giv'n, to make a Civet of their Song
Obfcene, and fweeten Ordure to Perfume.
Wit, a true Pagan, deifies the Brute,
And lifts our Swine-enjoyments from the Mire.
The Fact notorious, nor obfcure the Caufe.
We wear the Chains of Pleasure, and of Pride;
These share the Man; and these distract him too ;
Draw diff'rent Ways, and clash in their Commands.
Pride, like an Eagle, builds among the Stars;
But Pleasure, Lark-like, nefts upon the Ground.
Joys, fhar'd by Brute-Creation, Pride resents;
Pleasure embraces: Man would both enjoy,
And both at once: A Point how hard to gain!
But what can't Wit, when ftung by ftrong Defire?
Wit dares attempt this arduous Enterprize.
Since Joys of Senfe can't rife to Reafon's Tafte;
In fubtle Sophiftry's laborious Forge,
Wit hammers out a Reason new, that stoops
To fordid Scenes, and greets them with Applause.
Wit calls the Graces the chaft Zone to loofe;
Nor less than a plump God to fill the Bowl.
A thousand Phantoms, and a thousand Spells,
A thousand Opiates scatters to delude,
To fascinate, inebriate, lay asleep,
And the fool'd Mind delightfully confound.
Thus that, which fhock'd the Judgment, fhocks no
That, which gave Pride Offence, no more offends.
Pleafure and Pride, by Nature mortal Foes,
At War eternal which in Man fhall reign,
By Wit's Address, patch up a fatal Peace,
And hand in hand lead on the rank Debauch,
From rank refin'd to delicate and gay.
Art, cursed Art! wipes off th' indebted Blush
From Nature's Cheek, and bronzes ev'ry Shame.
Man fmiles in Ruin, glories in his Guilt,
And Infamy stands Candidate for Praise.
All writ by Man in favour of the Soul,
These fenfual Ethicks far, in Bulk, transcend.
The Flow'rs of Eloquence profufely pour'd
O'er spotted Vice, fill half the letter'd World.
Can Pow'rs of Genius exorcife their Page,
And confecrate Enormities with Song?
But let not these inexpiable Strains
Condemn the Mae that knows her Dignity,
Nor meanly ftops at Time, but holds the World
As 'tis, in Nature's ample Field, a Point,
A Point in her Efteem; from whence to start,
And run the Round of universal Space,
To vifit Being universal there,
And Being's Source, that utmost Flight of Mind!
Yet fpite of this so vast Circumference,
Well knows, but what is Moral, nought is Great.
Sing Sirens only?' Do not Angels fing?
There is in Porfy a decent Pride,
Which well becomes her when she speaks to Profe,
Her younger Sifter, haply, not more wise.
Think'ft thou, Lorenzo! to find Pastimes here?
No guilty Paffion blown into a Flame,
No Foible flatter'd, Dignity difgrac'd,
No fairy Field of Fiction all, on Flow'r,
No Rainbow Colours, here, or filken Tale;
But folemn Counsels, Images of awe,
Truths, which Eternity lets fall on Man
With double Weight, through these revolving Spheres,
This Death-deep Silence, and incumbent Shade,
Thoughts, fuch as fhall revifit your last Hour;
Vifit uncall'd, and live when Life expires;
And thy dark Pencil, Midnight! darker ftill
In Melancholy dipt, embrowns the whole.
Yet this, ev'n this, my Laughter-loving Friends!
Lorenzo! and thy Brothers of the Smile!
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