But if a fweeter voice, and one defign'd A bleffing to my country and mankind, Then place it once again between my knees, Shall be my chofen theme, my glory to the last. } HOPE. HOP E. doceas iter et facra oftia pandas. VIRG. EN. 6. A SK what is human life-the fage replies, With disappointment low'ring in his A painful paffage o'er a restless flood, eyes, The poor, inur'd to drudg'ry and diftrefs; Act without aim, think little and feel lefs, As in a dance the pair that take the lead By which Heav'n rules the mixt affairs of man; Bus'nefs is labour, and man's weakness fuch, Pleasure is labour too, and tires as much, The very fense of it foregoes its use, By repetition pall'd, by age obtufe. Youth loft in diffipation, we deplore Through life's fad remnant, what no fighs restore, Our years, a fruitlefs race without a prize, Too many, yet too few to make us wife. Dangling Dangling his cane about, and taking fnuff, Lothario cries, what philofophic stuff. Oh querulous and weak! whofe ufelefs brain Once thought of nothing, and now thinks in vain, For lift thy palfied head, shake off the gloom She spreads the morning over eastern hills, To fling his glories o'er the robe fshe wears; Banks cloath'd with flow'rs, groves fill'd with sprightly founds, The yellow tilth, green meads, rocks, rising grounds, Streams edg'd with ofiers, fatt'ning ev'ry field Ten thousand charms that only fools despise, All speak one language, all with one sweet voice Man feels the spur of paffions and defires, And she gives largely more than he requires ; Not that his hours devoted all to care, Hollow-ey'd abftinence and lean despair, The wretch may pine, while to his fmell, tafte, fight, She hold a paradife of rich delight; But gently to rebuke his aukward fear, Το prove that what the gives, fhe gives fincere, To banish hesitation, and proclaim His happiness, her dear, her only aim. 'Tis grave philofophy's abfurdeft dream, That Heav'n's intentions are not what they feem, That |