And all the folemn farce of graves,
To undertakers and their flaves.

You know that moral writers say,
The world's a stage, and life a play;
That in this drama to fucceed,
Requires much thought and toil indeed!
There ftill remains one labour more,
Perhaps a greater than before.
Indulge the fearch, and you fhall find
The harder task is still behind:
That harder task, to quit the stage
In early youth or riper age;
To leave the company and place
With firmnefs, dignity, and grace.

Come, then, the clofing fcenes furvey;
'Tis the last act which crowns the play.
Do well this grand decifive part,
And gain the plaudit of your heart.
Few greatly live in Wisdom's eye-
But, oh! how few who greatly die!
Who, when their days approach an end,
Can meet the foe as friend meets friend.
Inftructive heroes! tell us whence
Your noble fcorn of flesh and fenfe!
You part from all we prize fo dear,
Nor drop one foft, reluctant tear;
Part from those tender joys of life,
The friend, the parent, child, and wife.
Death's black and stormy gulph you brave,
And ride exulting on the wave;
Deem thrones but trifles all !-no more-
Nor fend one wishful look to shore.

For foreign ports, and lands unknown,
Thus the firm failor leaves his own;
Obedient to the rifing gale,
Unmoors his bark, and fpreads his fail;
Defies the ocean and the wind,
Nor mourns the joys he left behind.

Is Death a pow'rful monarch? True:
Perhaps you dread the tyrant too!
Fear, like a fog, precludes the light,
Or fwells the object to the fight.
Attend my vifionary page,

And I'll difarm the tyrant's rage.
Come, let this ghaftly form appear;
He's not fo terrible when near.
Distance deludes th' unwary eye;
So clouds feem monfters in the fky:
Hold frequent converse with him now,
He'll daily wear a milder brow,
Why is my theme with terror fraught?
Because you fhun the frequent thought.
Say, when the captive pard is nigh,
Whence thy pale cheek and frighted eye?
Say, why dimay'd thy manly breaft,
When the grim lion thakes his creft;
Because these favage fights are new;
No keeper fhudders at the view:
Keepers accuftom'd to the fcene,
Approach the dens with look ferene ?
Fearless their grifiy charge explore,
And fmile to hear the tyrants roar.
Ay- but to die! to bid adieu!
An everlasting farewel too!

3

Farewel to ev'ry joy around!

Oh, the heart fickens at the found!' Stay, ftripling-thou art poorly taught: Joy, didst thou fay? difcard the thought. Joys are a rich celestial fruit, And fcorn a fublunary root: What wears the face of joy below, Is often found but fplendid woe. Joys here, like unsubstantial fame, Are nothings but a pompous name; Or elfe, like comets in the fphere, Shine with destruction in their rear.

Paffions, like clouds, obfcure the fight, Hence mortals feldom judge aright. The world's a harth unfruitful foil, Yet till we hope, and still we toil; Deceive ourfelves with wond'rous art, And difappointment wrings the heart.

Thus, when a mift collects around, And hovers o'er a barren ground, The poor deluded trav'ller fpies Imagin'd trees and structures rife ; But, when the fhrouded fun is clear, The defert and the rocks appear.

Ah-but when youthful blood runs hig Sure 'tis a dreadful thing to die! To die! and what exalts the gloom, I'm told that man furvives the tomb! O! can the learned prelate find What future fcenes await the mind! Where wings the foul, diflodg'd from clay Some courteous angel point the way! That unknown fomewhere in the skies, Say, where that unknown fomewhere lies, And kindly prove, when life is o'er, That pains and forrows are no more: For doubtlefs, dying is a curfe, If prefent ills be chang'd for worse.' Hufh, my young friend, forego the theme And liften to your poet's dream.

Ere while I took an ev'ning walk, Honorio join'd in focial talk. Along the lawns the zephyrs fweep; Each ruder wind was lull'd afleep. The fky, all beauteous to behold, Was ftreak'd with azure, green, and gold; But tho ferenely foft and fair, Fever hung brooding in the air; Then fettled on Honorio's breast, Which thudder'd at the fatal guest. No drugs the kindly with fulfil; Difeafe eludes the doctor's fkill: The poifon, fpread thro' all the frame, Ferments, and kindles into flame. From fide to fide Honorio turns, And now with thirst infatiate burns: His eyes refign their wonted grace, Thofe friendly lamps expire apace! The brain's an ufelefs organ grown; And Reafon tumbled from his throne.

But, while the purple furges glow, The currents thicken as they flow: The blood in ev'ry distant part Stagnates and disappoints the heart;

Defraude

Why this addrefs to peerage all?
Untitled Allen's virtue's call!
If Allen's worth demands a place,
Lords with your leave, 'tis no difgrace.
Though high your ranks in heralds rolls,
Know, Virtue too ennobles fouls.
By her that private man's renown'd
Who pours a thoufand bleffings round.
While Allen takes Affliction's part,
And draws out all his gen'rous heart,
Anxious to feize the fleeting day,
Left unimprov'd it steal away;
While thus he walks with jealous ftrife,
Through goodness, as he walks through life;
Shall not I mark his radiant path?-
Rife, Mufe, and fing the Man of Bath!
Publish abroad, could goodness fave,
Allen would disappoint the grave;
Tranflated to the heavenly fhore,
Like Enoch, when his walk was o'er.

Nor Beauty's pow'rful pleas restrain:
Her pleas are trifling, weak, and vain;
For women pierce with fhrieks the air,
Smite the bare breasts, and rend their hair;
All have a doleful tale to tell,

How friends, fons, daughters, husbands fell!
Alas! is life our fav'rite theme-
*Tis all a vain or painful dream;
A dream which fools or cowards prize,
But flighted by the brave or wife.
Who lives, for others ills muft groan,
Or bleed for forrows of his own;
Muft journey on with weeping eye,
Then pant, fink, agonize, and die.

And fhall a man arraign the fkies,

Because man lives, and mourns, and dies?'
Impatient Reptile! Reafon cried;
Arraign thy paffion and thy pride:
Retire, and commune with thy heart;

Afk whence thou cam'ft, and what thou art;
Explore thy body and thy mind,
Thy ftation too why here affign'd.
The fearch fhall teach thee life to prize,
• And make thee grateful, good, and wife.
Why do you roam to foreign climes,
To study nations, modes, and times;
A science often dearly bought,
And often what avails you nought?
Go, man, and act a wifer part,
Study the fcience of your heart:
This home philofophy, you know,
Was priz'd fome thousand years ago
Then why abroad a frequent gueft?
• Why such a stranger to your breast ?
Why turn fo many volumes o'er,
Till Dodfley can fupply no more?
Not all the volumes ou thy fhelf
Are worth that fingle volume, Self:
For who, this facred book declines,
Howe'er in other arts he fhines,

Tho' fmit with Pindar's noble rage, • Or vers`d in Tully's manly page;

Tho' deeply read in Plato's fchool,
With all his knowledge, is a fool.
• Procłaim the truth-Say, what is man
His body from the duft began;
And when a few short years are o`er,
The crumbling fabric is no more.
'But whence the foul?-From heaven it ca
O prize this intellectual flame!
This nobler felf with rapture fcan;
'Tis mind alone which makes the man.
Truft me, there's not a joy on earth,
But from the foul derives its birth,
Afk the young rake, (he'll answer right)
Who treats by day and drinks by night,
What makes his entertainment shine?
What gives the relish to his wine?
He'll tell thee (if he scorns the bealt)
That focial pleasures form the feast.
The charms of beauty too fhall cloy,
Unless the foul exalts the joy.
The mind muft animate the face,
Or cold and taftelefs ev'ry grace.

What! must the foul her pow'rs difpen To raife and fwell the joys of sense? Know, too, the joys of fenfe controul And clog the motions of the soul; Forbid her pinions to aspire,

Damp and impair her native fire;
And fure as fenfe, that tyrant! reigns,
She holds the emprefs Soul in chains:
Inglorious bondage to the mind,
Heaven born, fublime, and unconfin'd!
She's independant, fair, and great,
And justly claims a large eftate;
She afks no borrow'd aids to shine;
She boafts within a golden mine;
But, like the treafures of Peru,
Her wealth lies deep, and far from view.
Say, fhall the man who knows her worth,
Debafe her dignity and birth?

Or e'er repine at Heaven's decree,
Who kindly gave her leave to be;
Cali'd her from nothing into day,
And built her tenement of clay?
Hear and accept me for your guide
" (Reason shall ne'er defert your fide):
Who liftens to my wifer voice,
Can't but applaud his Maker's choice;
Pleas'd with that first and fov'reign cause,
Pleas'd with unerring Wifdom's laws:
Secure, fince fov'reign goodness reigns;
Secure, fince fov'reign pow'r obtains.

With curious eyes review thy frame; This fcience fhall direct thy claim. Dott thou indulge a double view, A long, long life, and happy too? Perhaps a farther boon you crave→ To lie down eafy in the grave. Know, then, my dictates muit prevail, Or furely each fond with fhall fail. Come, then, is happiness thy aim? Let mental joys be all thy game.

Repe

In fummer's heat, and winter's cold,
He fed his flock, and penn'd the fold;
His hours in cheerful labour flew,
Nor envy nor ambition knew:
His witdom and his honeft fame
Through all the country rais'd his name.
A deep Philofopher (whofe rules
Of moral life were drawn from schools)
The shepherd's homely cottage fought,
And thus explor'd his reach of thought:

Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil
O'er books consum'd the midnight oil ?
Haft thou old Greece and Rome furvey'd,
And the vaft fenfe of Plato weigh'd?
Hath Socrates thy foul refin'd?
And haft thou fathom'd Tully's mind?
Or, like the wife Ulyffes, thrown
By various fates on realms unknown,
Haft thou through many cities stray'd,
Their cuftoms, laws, and manners weigh'd?
The Shepherd modeftly replied:

I ne'er the paths of learning tried:
Nor have I roam'd in foreign parts
To read mankind, their laws, and arts;
For man is practis'd in disguise,
He cheats the most difcerning eyes:
Who by that fearch shall witer
grow,
When we ourselves can never know?
The little knowledge I have gain'd,
Was all from fimple nature drain'd;
Hence my life's maxims took their rise,
Hence grew my fettled hate to vice.
The daily labours of the bee
Awake my foul to induftry.
Who can obferve the careful ant,
And not provide for future want?
My dog (the truftieft of his kind)
With gratitude inflames my mind:
I mark his true, his faithful way,
And in my fervice copy Tray.
In conftancy and nuptial love,
I learn my duty from the dove.
The hen, who from the chilly air
With pious wing protects her care,
And every fowl that flies at large,
Inftructs me in a parent's charge.

From nature too I take my rule,
To fhun contempt and ridicule:
I never, with important air,
In converfation overbear.
Can grave and formal pais for wife,
When men the folemn owl defpife?
My tong within my lips I rein,
For who talks much must talk in vain:
We from the wordy torrent fly;
Who liftens to the chatt'ring pye?
Nor would I, with felonious fight,
By Redth invade my neighbour's right;
Racious animals we hate:

Kites, hawks, and wolves, deserve their fate.
Do not we juft abhorrence find
Again the tead and ferpent kind?

But envy, calumny, and fpite

Bear ftronger venom in their bite.

To his Highness William Duke of Cumberlan 121. FABLE 1. The Lion, the Tiger, and the Traveller.

ACCEPT, young Prince, the moral lay,
And in thefe tales mankind furvey;
With early virtues plant your breast,
The fpecious arts of vice deteft.

Princes, like beauties, from their youth
Are strangers to the voice of truth:'
Learn to contemn all praise betimes;
For flattery 's the nurfe of crimes.
Friendship by fweet reproof is shown
(A virtue never near a throne);
In courts fuch freedom must offend,
There none prefumes to be a friend.
To thofe of your exalted ftation
Each courtier is a dedication.
Muft I too flatter like the rest,
And turn my morals to a jest?
The mufe difdains to steal from those
Who thrive in courts by fulfome profe.
But fhall I hide your real praise,
Or tell you what a nation fays?
They in your infant bofom trace
The virtues of your royal race,
In the fair dawning of your mind
Difcern you gen'rous, mild, and kind.
They see you grieve to hear distress,
And pant already to redrefs.
Go on, the height of good attain,
Nor let a nation hope in vain:
For hence we justly may prefage
The virtues of a riper age.
True courage fhall your bosom fire,
And future actions own your fire.
Cowards are cruel, but the brave
Love mercy, and delight to fave.

A Tiger roaming for his prey, Sprung on a Trav'ller in the way; The proftrate game a Lion fpies, And on the greedy tyrant fiies: With mingled roar refounds the wood, Their teeth, their claws, diftil with blood; Til, vanquifh'd by the Lion's ftrength, The fpotted foe extends his length. The man befought the fhaggy lord, And on his knees for life implor'd; His life the gen'rous hero gave: Together walking to his cave,

T