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Fatigue and weaken ev'ry foe
By long attack—secure, though slow.
Plague represents his rapid pow'r,
Who thinn'd a natien in an hour.
All spoke their claim, and hop'd the wand.
Now expectation hush'd the band,
When thus the monarch from the throne :
Merit was ever modest known.
What, no Physician speaks his right?
None here ! but fees their toils requite.
Let then Intemp'rance take the wand,
Who fills with gold their zealous hand.
You Fever, Gout, and all the rest,
Whom wary men as foes detest.
Forego your claim ; no more pretend;
intemp'rance is esteem'd a friend ;
He shares their mirth, their social joys,
And as a courted guest destroys.
The charge on him inust *i; fall,
Who finds employment for you all.
$138. FAAir xlvi.11. The Gardener and the Hog.
A GARD'NER of peculiar taste
On a young Hog his favor plac'd,
Who fed not with the common herd;
His tray was to the hall preferr'd,
He wallow'd underneath the board,
Or in his unaster's chamber snord ; ;
Who fondly strok'd him ev’ry day,
And taught him all the puppy's play.
Where'er he went, the granting friend
Ne'er fail'd his pleasure to attend.
As on a time the loving pair
Walk'd forth to tend the garden's care,
The Master thus address'd the Swine :
My house, my garden, all is thine ;
On turnips feast whene'er you please,
And riot in my beans and pease ;
If the potatoe's taste delights,
Or the red carrot's sweet invites,
Indulge thy morn and ev'ning hours,
Butlet due care regard my flow'rs.
My tulips are my garden's pride,
What vist expence those beds supplied!
The Hog, by chance, one morning roam'd
Where with new ale the vessels soam'd :
He munches now the streaming grains;
Now with full swill the liquor drains.
Intoxicating fumes arise;
He reels, he rolls his winking eyes;
Then, staggring, through the garden scours,
And treads down painted ranks of flow'rs.
With delving snout he turns the soil,
And cools his palate with the spoil.
The Master came, the ruin spied;
Villain, suspend thy rage he cricd:
Hast thou, thou most ungrateful sot!
My charge, Iny only charge forgot?
What, all my flow'rs! No more he said,
*#. and sigh'd, and hung his head.
The Hog with stutt'ring speech returns,
Fxplain, Sir, why your anger burns,
See there, untouch'd, your tulips strewn,
For I devour'd the roots alone, .
Or crawls beside the coral grove,
And hears the occan roll i.
Nature is too profuse, says he,
Who gave all these to pleasure me!
When bord'ring pinks and roses bloom,
And ev'ry garden breathes perfume;
Like Laura's cheek when blushes rise; When with huge figs the branches bend, When clusters from the vine depend; The snail looks round on flow'r and tree, And cries, All these were made for ale! What dignity's in human nature
Says Man, the most conceited creature, |As from a clift he cast his eyes,
And view'd the sea and arched skies:
The sun was sunk beneath the main;
The moon and all the starry train,
Hung the vast vault of heaven. The Mau
His contemplation thus began :
When I behold this glorious show,
And this wide wat'ry world below,
The scaly Jeople of the main,
The beasts that range the wood or plain,
The wing'd inhabitants of air,
The day, the night, the various year,
|And know all these by Heaven design'd
As gifts to pleasure human kind;
I cannot raise my worth too high:
Of what vast consequence an f
Not of th’ inportance you suppose,
Replies a Flea upon his nose :
Be humble, learn thyself to sean :
Know, pride was never inade for Man,
'Tis vanity that swells thy mind,
What heaven and earth for thee design'd :
For thee made only for our need,
That more important Fleas might feed.
140. FARLE L. The Hare and many Friends. 'Ritxdship, like love, is but a name, Unless to one you stint the flame. The child, whom many fathers share, Hath seldon known a father's care.
Tis thus in friendship; who depend
On many, rarely find a friend.
A Hare, who in a civil wa
Complied with ev'ry thing, like GAY,
Was known by all the bestial train
Who haunt the wood, or graze the plain,
Her care was, never to offend; .
And ev'ry creature was her friend.
As forth she went, at early dawn,
To taste the dew, besprinkled lawn,
Behind she hears the *. cries,
And from the deep-mouth'd thunder flies:
She starts, she stops, she pants for breath;
She hears the near advance of death ;
She doubles to mislead the hound,
And measures back her mazy round;
Till, fainting in the public way,
Half dead with fear o: gasping lay.
What transport in her bosom grew,
When first the Horse appear'd in view!
Let me, says she, your back ascend,
And owe my safety to a friend.
You know my feet betray my flight:
To friendship ev'ry burthen’s light.
The Horse replied, Poor honest Puss |
It grieves my heart to see thee thus:
Be comforted, relief is near;
For all your friends are in the rear,
She next the sately Bull implor’d,
And thus replied the mighty lord:
Since every beast alive can tell
That I sincerely wish you well,
I may, without offence, pretend
To take the freedom of a friend. *
Love calls me hence ; a fav'rite cow
Expects me near you barley-now ;
And when a lady's in the case,
Tou know all other things give place.
To leave you thus might seem unkind;
But see, the Goat is just behind.
The Goat remark'd her pulse was high,
Her languid head, her heavy eye;
My back, says he, may do you harm;
*. Sheep's at hand, and wool is warm.
The Sheep was feeble, and complain'd
His sides a load of wool sustain'd:
Said he was slow, confess'd his fears;
For hounds eat Sheep as well as Hares.
She now the trotting Calf address'd,
To save from death a friend distress'd.
Shall I, says he, of tender age,
In this important care engage?
Older and abler pass'd you by:
How strong are those show weak am I?
8hould I presume to bear you hence,
Those friends of mine may take offence.
Excuse me, then. You know my heart,
But dearest friends, alas ! must part.
How shall we all lament 1 Adieu !
- &r, see, the hounds are just in view.
Y O U NG's NIGHT-Thoughts. § 141. NIGHT 1. Sleep. TIR'd Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep! He, like the world, his ready visit pays.
Where Fortune smiles; the wretched he for-
Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe,
And lights on lids unsullied with a tear.
From short (as usual) and disturb’d repose
I wake : How happy they who wake no more!
Yet that were vain, if dreams infest the grave.
I wake, emerging from a sea of dreams
Tumultuous; where my wreck'd, desponding
From wave to wave of fancy'd misery
At random drove, her helm of reason lost :
Tho' now restor'd, 'tis only change of pain,
A bitter change; severer for severe :
The day too short for my distress and night
Ev’n in the zenith of her dark domain,
Is sunshine, to the color of my fate.
Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne,
In rayless majesty, now stretches forth -
Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumb|ring world:
Silence, how dead! and darkness, how profound!
Norleye, nor list'ningear an object finds;
Creation sleeps, "Tis as the general pulse
Of life stood still, and nature made a pause;
An awful pause, prophetic of her end.
And let her prophecy be soon fulfill'd :
Fate! drop A. curtain: I can lose no more.
§ 143. Invocation to Silence and Darkness. S1 Lence and Darkness! solemn sisters! twins From antient Night, who nurse the tender
thought To reason, and on reason build resolve, (That column of true majesty in man) Assist me: I will thank you in the grave; The grave, your kingdom: There this frame shall fall
A victim sacred to your dreary shrine:
But what are ye? Thou who didst put to flight
Primeval Silence, when the morning stars
Exulting, shouted o'er the rising ball;
OThou! whose word from .#darkness struck
That spark, the sun; strikewisdom from my soul.
My soul which fliestothee, her trust, her treasure,
As misers to their gold, while others rest.
Thro' this opaque of nature, and of soul,
This double night, transmit one pitying ray,
To lighten and to cheer: O lead my mind,
(A mind that fain would wander from its woe)
Lead it thro' various scenes of Life and Death,
And from each scene, the noblest truths inspire
Nor less inspire my conduct than my song;
Nor let the vial of thy vengeance, pour'd
On this devoted head, be pour'd in vain.
The bell strikes one: We take no note of time,
But from its loss. To give it then a tongue,
Is wise in man. As if an āfigel spoke,
I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright,
It is the knell of my departed hours;
Wherearethey? with theyears beyond the Flood?
It is the signal that demands dispatch;
How much is to be done! my hopes and fears
Start up alarm’d, and of life sparrow verge
Look down—on what?, a fathomless abyss;
A dread etermity! how stirely mine ! . . .
And can eternity belong to ine, . . .
Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?
... S. 145. Man.’ How poor how rich; how alject how august : " . . . -
How complicate! how wonderful is Man!
How passing wonder HE who made him such
Who centred in our make such strange extremes!
From different natures marvellously mixt,
Connexion exquisite of distant worlds !
Distinguish'd link in being's endless chaius
Midway from nothing to the Deity 1.
A beam ethereal sullied, and so ! . . ...,
Tho' sullied, and dishonor'd, still divine !
Dim miniature of greatness absolute!
An heir of glory!, a frail child of dust! .
Helpless inauaortal! insect infinite!
A worm a god! I tremble at myself;
And in myself am lost! at home a stranger,
Thought wanders up and down, surprisdiaghast,
And wond'ring at her own: how reason reels!
O what a miracle to man is man :
Triumphantly distress'd, what joy, what dread
Alternately transported and alarm'd :
What can preserve my life, or what destroy
angel's arm can't snatch ine from the grave; Legions of angels can't confine me there.
Unkindled, unconceiv'd ; and from an oye
Of tenderness, let heavenly pity fall
On me, more justly number'd with the dead :
This is the desert, this the solitude:
How populous! how vital, is the grave!
This is creation's melancholy vault,
The vale funereal, the sad cypress gloom;
The land of apparitions, empty shades;
All, all on earth is shadow, all beyond
Is substance; the reverse is folly's creed ;
How solid all, where change shall be no more 1
§ 148. Life and Eternity.
This is the bud of being, the dim dawn;
Life's theatre as yet is shut, and death,
Strong death alone can heave the massy bar,
This gross impediment of clay remoye,
And make us embryos of existence free.
From real life, but little more remote
ls he, not yet a candidate for light,
|The future embryo, slumbering in his sire. |Embryos
must be, till we burst the shell. Yon ambient azure shell, and spring to life, The life of gods—O transport! and of man. Yetman, foolman! hereburiesall his thoughts; Inters celestial hopes without one sigh: Prisoner of earth, and pent beneath the moon, Here pinions all his wishes : wing'd by heaven To fly at infinite, and reach it there, Where seraphs gather immortality, , On life's fair tree, fast by the throne of God. What golden joys ambrosial clust'ring glow In his ji beam, and ripen for the Just, Where momentary ages are no more Where time, and pain, and chance, and death expire And is it in the flight of threescore years, To push eternity from human thought, Allsmother souls immortal in the dust 1 A soul immortal, spending all her fires, Wasting her st h in strenuous idleness, Thrown into tumult, raptur'd, or alarm'd, At aught this scene can threaten or indulge, Resembles ocean into tempest wrought, To waft a feather or to drown a fly. Where falls this censure? Ito'erwhelms myself. How was my heart encrusted by the world! O bow self-fetter'd was my groveling soul! How, like a worm, was I wrapt round and round In silken thought, which reptile Fancy spun, Till darken'd Reason lay quite clouded o'er With soft conceit of endless comfort here, Nor yet put forth her wings to reach the skies! Our waking dreams are fatal : how I dreamt Of things impossible ! (could sleep do more?) Of joys perpetual in perpetual changes Of stable pleasures on the tossing wavel Eternal sunshine in the storms of life How richly were my noon-tide trances hung With gorgeous tapestries of pictur'd joys Joy behind joy, in endless perspective! Till at Death's toll, whose . iron tongue Calls daily for his millions at a meal,
Starting, I woke, and found myself undone.'
O ye blest scenes of permanent delight!
Full above measure : lasting beyond bound !
Could you, so rich in rapture, feat an end,
That ghastly thought would drink up all your
And quite unparadise the realms of light. -
Safe are you lodg’d above these rolling spheres,
'The ball ful influence of whose giddy dance
Sheds sad vicissitudes on all beneath.
Here teems with revolutions every hour;
And rarely for the better; or the best,
More mortal than the common births of fate :
}ach moment has its sickle, cinulous
Of Time's enormous scythe, whose ample sweep
Strikes empires from the root; each moment
31is little weapon in the narrower sphere
Of sweet domestic confort, and cuts down
The fairest bloom of sublunary bliss.
Bliss' sublunary bliss! proud worlds, and vain :
Implicit treason to divine decree!
A bold invasion of the rights of heavcn.'
I clasp'd the phantoms, and H found them air,
() had I *... it ere my fond embrace
What darts of agony had miss'd my heart!
l)eath ! great proprictor of all ! "Tis thine
To tread out empire, and to quench the stars:
The sun himself by thy permission shines;
And, one day, thou shalt pluck him from his
Amid such mighty plunder, why exhaust
Thy partial quiver on a mark so incan
Why thy peculiar rancour wreck'd on me?
Insatiate archer! could not one suslice
Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was
slain; - horn.
And thrice, ere thrice won moon had fill'd her
O Cynthia; why so pale dost thou lament
Thy wretched neighbour grieve, to see thy
Of ceaseless change outwhirl’d in human life?
In ev'ry varied posture, place, and hour,
How widow’d every thought of every joy!
Thought, busy thought! too busy for my
Thro' the . bostern of time long elaps'
J.ed softly, by A. stillness of the night,
Suays, wretched rover! o'er the pleasing past,
In quest of wretchedress, perversely stroys;
And finds all desert now ; and meets the ghosts
Of my departed joys, a numerous train!
T rue the riches of my former fate; -
Sweet comfort's blasted clusters make me sigh:
I tremble at the blessings once so dear;
And ev'ry pleasure pains me to the heart.
Yet why complain: or why complain for one?
I mourn for millions: 'Tis the coulmon lot;
In this shape, or in that, has fate entail'd
The mother's throes on all of woman born,
Not more the children, than sure heirs of pain.
§ 150. Oppression, Joant, and Disease. War, famine, pest, volcano, storm, and fire, Intestine broils, oppression with her heart Wrapt up in triple brass, besiege mankind: God's image, disinherited of day, Here plung'd in mines, forgets a sun was made; There beings, deathless as their haughty lord, Are hammer'd to the galling oar for life; And plough the winter's wave, and reap despair: Some, for hard masters, broken under arms, In battle lopt away, with half their limbs, Beg bitter bread thro' realins their valor sav'd, If so the tyrant, or his minion doom; Want and incurable Disease (fell pair!) On hopeless multitudes remorseless seise At once; and make a refuge of the grave: How groaning hospitals eject their dead! What numbers groan for sad admission there! What numbers, once in Fortune's lap high fed, Solicit the cold hand of charity To shock us more, solicit it in vain :
Not Prudence can defend, or Virtue save; Disease invades the chastest temperance; And punishment the guiltless; and alarm Thro' thickest shades pursues the fond of peace: Man's caution often into danger turns, And, his guard falling, crushes him to death. Not IIappiness itself makes good her name; Our very wishes gives us not our wish ; How distant oft the thing we dote on most, From that for which we dote, felicity:
The smoothest course of nature has its pains, And truest friends, thro’ error, wound our rest; Without misfortune, what calamities' And what hostilities without a foe! Nor are foes wanting to the best on earth : But endless is the list of human ills, And sighs might sooner fail, than cause to sigh.
The selfish heart deserves the pain it feels;
More generous sorrow, while it sinks, exalts,
And onscious virtue mitigates the pang.
Nor Virtue, more than Prudence, bids me give
Śwoln thought a second channes; who dioide,
They weaken too, the torrent of their grief.
Take then, O world! thy much indebted tear:
How sad a sight is human happiness [hour !
To those whose thought can pierce beyond an
9 hou! whate'er thou art, whose heart exults:
Wouldst thou I should congratulate thy fate;
I knew thou wouldst; thy pride demands it from
Potthy prideparden, what thy nature *so
salutary censure of a friend : [blest;
Thou happy wretch by blindness art thou
By dotage dandled to perpetual smiles:
Know, siniler! at thy peril art thou pleas'd ;
ly pleasure is the promise of thy pain.
Misfortune, like a creditor severe,
But rises in demand for her delay;
She makes a scourge of past pros
To sting thee more, an i. t
$153. The Instability and Insufficiency of
Lorenzo! Fortune makes her court to thee,
fond heart dances, while the Syren sings.
I would not damp, but to secure thy joys:
Think not that fear is sacred to the storm :
Stand on thy guard against the smiles of fate.
Is heaven tremendous in its frown! most sure:
And in its favors formidable too;
Its favors here are trials, not rewards:
A call to duty, not discharge from care;
And should alarm us, full as much as woes;
O'er our scann'd conduct give a jealous eye;
Awe Nature's tumult, and chastise her joys,
Lest, while we clasp we kill them; nay invert,
To worse than simple misery, their charms:
Revolted joys, like foes in civil war,
Like bosom friendships to resentment sour’d,
With rage envenom'd rise against our peace.
Beware what earth calls happiness; beware
Alljoys, but joys that never can expire:
Who builds on less than an immortal base,
Fund as he seems, condemns his joys to death.
Mine died with thee, Philander! thy last sigh
Dissolv'd the charm; the disenchanted earth
Lostall her lustre; where, her glittering towers?
Her golden mountains, where? all darken'd
To naked waste; a dreary vale of tears! ...[down
The great magician's dead! thou poor pale piece
. earth, in darkness! what a change
rom yesterday! thy darling hope so near, "[in
5.3, death's . seed wi.
Sly, treach'rous miner!) working in the dark,
Smild at thy well-concerted scheme, and beck-
The worm to riot on that rose so red, [on'd
Unfaded ere it fell; one moment's prey !
§ 154. Man short-sighted. The present moment terminates our sight; Clouds thick as those on doomsday, drown the next; '.
We penetrate, we prophesy in vain.
Tine is dealt out by particles: and each,
Ere mingled with the streaming sands of life,
By fate's inviolable oath is sworn
Deep silence, “Where eternity begins."
§ 155. Presumption of depending on To-morrow.
By Nature's law, what may be, may be now;
There's no prerogative in human hours:
In human hearts what bolder thought can rise,
Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn?
Where is to-morrow In another world.
For numbers this is certain; the reverse
Is sure to none; and yet on this perhaps,
This peradventure, infamous for fies,
As on a rock of adamant we build
Qurmountain hopes; spin out eternal schemes,
And, big with life's futurities, expire.
§ 156. Sudden Death.
Not ev'n Philander had bespoke his shroud;
Nor had he cause, a warning was deny'd.
How many fall as sudden, not as safe!
As sudden, tho' for years admonish'd home.
Of human ills the last extreme beware,
Beware, Lorenzo a slow-sudden death.
How dreadful that deliberate surprise!
Be wise to-day, 'tis madness to defer;
Next day the fatal precedent will plead Î
Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life;
Procrastination is the thief of time,
Year after year it steals, till all are fled,
And to the mercies of a moment leaves
he vast concerns of an eternal scene! If not so frequent, would not this be strange 2 That 'tis so frequent, this is stranger still.
§ 157. Man's Proneness topospone Improvement.
Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears
The palm, “ that all men are about to live."
For ever on the brink of being born: , .
All pay themselves the compliment to think -
They, one day, shall not drivel; and their pride
On this reversion takes up ready praise;
At least their own; their future selves applauds;
How excellent that life they ne'er will lead.
Time lodg'd in their own hands is folly's vails;
That lodg'd in fate's, to wisdom they consign.
All promise is poor dilatory man, [deed,
And that thro’ every stage: when young, in-
In full content, we sometimes nobly rest,
Unanxious for ourselves; and only wish, .
As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise :
At thirty man suspects himself a fool;
Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan;
At fifty chides his infamous delay,
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve;
In all the magnanimity of thought
Resolves, and re-resolves: then dies the same.
§ 158. - Man insensible of his own Mortality.
AND why! because he thinks himself immortal. All men think all men mortal, but themselves; I 2 Themselves,