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Than he contrives to suffer, well content.

Which is the saintlier worthy of the two? 105 Past all dispute, yon anchorite, say you. Your sentence and mine differ. What s a name I say

the bramin has the fairer claim. If suff'rings, Scripture no where recommends, Devi z’d by self to answer selfish ends,

110 Give saintship, then all Europe must agree Ten starving hermits suffer less than he.

The truth, is, (if the truth may suit your ear
And prejudice have left a passage clear,)
Pride has attain'd its most luxuriant growth,

115
And poison'd ev'ry virtue in them both.
Pride may be pamper'd while the flesh grows lean;
Humility may clothe an English dean;
That grace was Cowper's—his, confess'd by all
Though plac'd in golden Durham's second stall. 120
Not all the plenty of a bishop's board,
His palace, and his lacqueys, and “ My lord,"
More nourish pride, that condescending vice,
Than abstinence, and beggary, and lice;
It thrives in mis’ry, and abundant grows;

125 In mis’ry fools upon themselves impose.

But why before us protestants produce An Indian mystick, or a French recluse ? Their sin is plain ; but what have we to fear, Reform'd and well instructed ?. You shall hear. 130

Yon ancient prude, whose wither'd features show She might be young some forty years ago, Her elbows pinion'd close upon her hips, Her head erect, her fan upon her lips, Her eye-brows arch'd, her eyes both gone astray 135 To watch yon am'rous couple in their play, With bony and unkerchief'd neck defies The rude inclemency of wintry skies, And sails with lappet head and mincing airs, Duly at clink of bell to morning pray'rs.

140 To thrift and parsimony much inclin'd,

She yet allows herself that boy behind;
The shiv'ring urchin, bending as he goes,
With slipshod heels, and dewdrop at his nose ;
His predecessor's coat advanc'd to wear,

115
Which future pages yet are doom'd to share,
Carries her Bible tuck d beneath his arm,
And hides his hands to keep his fingers warm.

She half an angel in her own account, Doubts not hereaster with the saints to mount. 150 Though not a grace appears on strictest search, But that she fasts, and, item, goes to church. Conscious of age she recollects her youth, And tells, not always, with an eye to truth, Who spann'd her waist, and who, where'er he can e, Scrawld upon glass Miss Bridget's lovely name; 156 Who-stole her slipper, fill'd it with tokay, And drank the little bumper ev'ry day. Of tem per as envenom'd as an asp, Censorious, and her ev'ry word a wasp ;

160 In faithful mem'ry she records the crimes, Or real or fictitious of the times; Laughs at the reputations she has torn, And holds them dangling at arm's length in scorn.

Such are the fruits of sanctimonious pride, 165
Of malice fed while flesh is mortified :
Take, Madam, the reward of all your pray’rs,
Where hermits and where bramins meet with theirs ,
Your portion is with them.-Nay, never frown,
But if you please, some fathoms lower down. 170

Artist, attend-your brushes and your paint-
Produce them-take a chair-now draw a saint.
Oh sorrowful and sad! the streaming tears
Channel her cheeks—a Niobe appears !
Is this a saint: Throw tints and all away-

175
True Piety is cheerful as the day,
Will weep indeed and heave a pitying groan
For others' woes, but smiles upon her own.
What purpose has the King of saints in views

Why falls the Gospel like a gracious dew? 180
To call up plenty from the teeming earth,
Or curse the desert with a tenfold dearth?
Is it that Adam's offspring may be sav'd
From servile fear, or be the more enslav'd ?
To loose the links that galld mankind before, 185
Or bind them faster on, and add still more ?
The freeborn Christian has no chains to prove,
Or, if a chain, the golden one of love ;
No fear attends to quench his glowing fires,
What fear he feels his gratitude inspires.

190
Shall he for such deliv'rance freely wrought,
Recompense ill? He trembles at the thought.
His master's interest and his own combin'd,
Prompt ev'ry movement of his heart and mind ;
Thought, word, and deed, his liberty evince, 195
His freedom is the freedom of a prince.

Man's obligations infinite, of course
His life should prove that he perceives their force ;
His utmost he can render is but small-
The principle and motive all in all.

200
You have two servants-Tom, an arch, sly rogue,
From top to toe the Geta now in vogue,
Genteel in figure, easy in address,
Moves without noise, and swift as an express,
Peports a message with a pleasing grace,
Expert in all the duties of his place ;
Say, on what hinge does his obedience move?
Has he a world of gratitude and love ?
No, not a spark-'tis all mere sharper's pray
He likes your house, your housemaid, and your pay;
Reduce his wages, cr get rid of her,

211 Tom quits you, with-Your most obedient, Sir.

The dinner serv'd, Charles takes his usual stand, Watches your eye, anticipates command ; Sighs, if perhaps your appetite should fail ; 215 And, if he but suspects a frown, turns pale ; Consults all day your int’rest ar.d your case,

205

Richly rewarded if he can but please ;
And, proud to make his firm attachment known,
To save your life, would nobly risk his own. 220

Now which stands highest in your.serious thought?
Charles, without doubt, say you-and so he ought ;
One act, that from a thankful heart proceeds,
Excels ten thousand mercenary deeds.
Thus Heav'n approves as honest and sincere,

225 The work of gen'rous love, and filial fear ; But with averted eyes th' omniscient Judge Scorns the base hireling, and the slavish drudge. Where dwell these matchless saints ?-old Curio cries : Ev'n at your side, Sir, and before your eyes,

230 The favour'd fewth' enthusiasts you despise. And pleas'd at heart, because on holy ground Sometimes a canting hypocrite is found, Reproach a people with a single fall, And cast his filthy garment at them all.

235 Attend.-an apt similitude shall show Whence springs the conduct that offends you so.

See where it smokes along the sounding plain,
Blown all aslant, a driving, dashing rain,
Peal upon peal redoubling all around,

240 Shakes it again and faster to the ground : Now flashing wide, now glancing as in play, 'Swift beyond thought the lightnings dart away. Ere yet it came the trav'ller urg'd his steed, And hurried, but with unsuccessful speed;

245 Now drench'd throughout, and hopeless of his case, He drops the rein, and leaves him to his pace. Suppose, unlook'd for in a scene so rude, Long hid by interposing hill or wood, Some mansion, neat and elegantly dressid, 250 By some kind hospitable heart possess'd, Offer him warmth, security, and rest ; Think with what pleasure, safe, and at his ease He hears the tempest howling in the trees; What glowing thanks his lips and heart employ 255

While danger past is turn'd to present joy.
So fares it with the sinner, when he feels
A growing dread of vengeance at his heels ;
His conscience, like.a glassy lake before,
Lash'd into foaming waves begins to roar;

260
The law grown clamorous, though silent long,
Arraigns him,-charges him with ev'ry wrong
Asserts the rights of his offended Lord,
And death or restitution is the word ;
The last impossible--he fears the first,

205 And, having well deserv'd, expects the worst. Then welcome refuge, and a peaceful home ; Oh for a shelter from the wrath to come! Crush rne, ye rocks; ye falling mountains, hide Or bury me in ocean's angry tide

270 The scrutiny of those all-seeing eyes I ďare not-And you need not, God replies : The remedy you want I freely give; The book shall teach you-read, believe, and live. 'Tis done-the raging storm is heard no more,

275 Mercy receives him on her peaceful shore ; And justice, guardian of the dread command, Drops the red vengeance from his willing hand. A soul redeem'd demands a life of praise ; Hence the complexion of his future days,

280 Hence a demeanour holy and unspeck’d, And the world's hatred, as its sure effect.

Some lead a life unblamable and just, 'Their own dear virtue their unshaken trust : They never sin-or if, (as all offend,)

235 Some trivial slips their daily walk attend, The poor are near at hand, the charge is small, A slight gratuity atones for all. For though the pope has lost his int’rest here, And pardons are not sold as once they were,

290 No papist more desirous to compound, Than some grave sinners upon English ground, That plea refuted, other quirks they seek

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