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Peace to each drowsy metaphysic sage! Is there an evil worse than Fcar itself?
And ever may all heavy systems reft!

And what avails it that indulgent Heav'n
Yct some there are, ev'n of elastic parts, From mortal cyes has wrapt the woes to come,
Whom strong and obstinate ambition leads If we, ingenious to torment ourselves,
Thro' all the rugged roads of barren lore, Grow palc at hideous fi&tions of our own?
And gives to relish what their gen'rous taste Enjoy the present; nor with needless cares
Would else refule. But may nor thirst of farie, of what may spring from blind Misfortune's
Nor love of knowledge, urge you to fatigue Appal the surest hour that life bestows. (vocib,
With constant drudgery the líb'ral soul! Serene, and master of yourself, prepare
Toy with your books: and as the various fits For what may come, and leave the rest to
of humour seize you, from Philosophy

Heav'ni To Fable shift; from ferious Antonine

Oft from the body, by long ails miftund, To Rabelais' ravings, and from profc to song. These evils (prung, the most important health,

While reading plcases, but no longer, read; That of the mind, destroy; and when the mind And read aloud, resounding Homer's strain, They first invade, the conscious body foon And wield the thunder of Demofthenes. la fyin pathetic languishment declines. The cheft so exercis'd improves its strength; These chronic Pallions, while from real woes And quick vibrations thro' the bowels drive They rise, and yet without the body's fault The reftlets blood, which in inactive days Infeít the soul, admit one only cure; Would loiter else thro' unelaftic tubes.

Divertion, hurry, and a reftless life. Dcem it not trifling while I recommend

Vain are the consolations of the vile; [pain, What posture suits: To stand and fit by turns, In vain your friends would rcafon down your As nature prompts, is bett. But o'er your leaves Oye, whose fouls relentless love has tam’d Tolcan for ever, cramps the vital parts, To soft distress, or friends untiinely Nain! And robs the fine machinery of its play. Court not the luxury of tender thought !

Tis the great art of life to manage well Nor deem it impious to forget those pains The restless mind. For ever on pursuit That hurt the living, nought avail the dead. Of knowledge bene, it starves the grosser pow'rs: Go, soft enthusiast! quit the cypress groves, Quite unemplov'd, against its own repose Nor to the riv'let's loncly moanings tune It turns its fatal edge; and sharper pangs Your fad complaint. Go, seek the cheerful haunts Than what the body knows embitter life. Of men, and mingle with the bustling crowd; Chiefly where Solitude, lad nurse of Care, Lay schemes for wealth, or pow'r, or fame, the To fickly musing gives the pensive mind,

with There Madness enters; and the dim-ey'd Fiend, Of nobler minds, and push them night and day, Sour Melancholy, night and day provokes Or join the caravan in quest of scenes Her own eternal wound. The fun grows pale; New to your eyes, and shifting ev'ry hour, A mournful visionary light o'erspreads Beyond the Alps, beyond the Apennines. The cheerful face of nature; earth becomes Or, more advent'rous, ruth into the field A dreary desart, and heav'n frowns above. Where war grows hot; and, raging thro’the ky, Then various shapes of cursd illusion rile: The lofty trumpet swells the madd’ning foui; Whatc'er the wreiched fears, creating Fear And in the hardy camp and toilsome march Forns out of nothing: and with monsters teems Forget all softer and less manly cares. Unknown in hell. Thc prostrate soul bencath But most too passive, when the blood runs low. A load of huge imagination heaves;

Too weakly indolent to strive with pain, And all the horrors that the murd'rer feels, And bravely by relifting conquer Fate, With anxious utt'rings wake the guiltless breast. Try Circe's arts; and in the tempting bowl

Such phantoms Pride, in folitary scenes, Of poison'd Nectar sweet oblivion drink. Or Fear, on delicate Self-love creates.

Struck hy ihe pow'rful charm, the gloom difFrom other cares abfolu'd, the busy mind In empty air : Elysium opens round. [folves Finds in yourself a theme to pore upon; A p!caling phrenzy buoys the lightend soul, It finds you miserable, or makes you fo. And fanguine hopes dispel your feeting care; For while yourself you anxiously explore, And what was difficult, and what was dire, Timorous Self-love, with fick’ning Fancy's aid, Yields to your prowess and superior llars: Presents the danger that you dread the most, The happiest you of all that e'or were mad, And ever galls you in your tender part.

Or are, or fall be, could this folly last. Hence fome for love, and some for jealousy, But foon your heav'n is gone; a heavier gloons For grin religion fome, and fomne for pride, Shuts o'er your head; and, as the thund'ring Have lost their reason: soinc, for fear of want, stream, Want all thcir lives; and others, ev'ry day, Swoln o'er its banks with sudden mountain rain, For fear of dying, fuffer worle than death. Sinks from its cumult to a silent brook, Ah! from your bosoms banish, if you can, So, when the frantic raptures in your breast Those fatal guests; and first the demon Fcar, Subside, you languish into mortal man: That trembles at impollible events,

You scep, and waking find your elf undone. Left aged Atlas should resign his load,

For, prodigal of life, in onc rath night (days. And hcav'n's cternal battlcncnts ruih dowa! You lavind more than might Tupport three

A beavy

A heavy morning comes; your cares return Should ever roam: and were the fatcs more kind,
With tenfold rage. An anxious ftoinach well Our narrow luxuries would soon be ftale.
May be endur’d; so may the throbbing heart; Were there exhaustless, Nature would grow fick,
But such a dim delirium, such a dream

And, cloy'd with pleasure, squeamishly coinplajit
Invoives you; such a daftardly despair That all was vanity, and life a dream.
Unmans your loul, as madd’ning Pentheus felt Let nature reft : be busy for yourself
When, baited round Cichuron's cruel fides, And for your friend; be busy ev'n in vain,
He saw two suns, and double Thebes ascend. Rather than teaze her fated appetites.
You curse the nuggish Port; you curse the Who never fasts, no banquets e’er enjoys ;
wretch,

Who never toils or watches, never sleeps. The felon, with unnatural mixture first Let nature reft ; and when the taste of joy Who dar'd to violate the virgin wine :

Grows keen, indulge; but hun satiety. Or on the fugitive Champain you pour

'Tis not for mortals always to be blest:
A thousand curses; for to heav'n it rapt But him the least the dull or painful hours
Your soul, to plunge you deeper in despair. Of life opprefs, whom fober Sense conducts,
Perhaps you rue ev’n that divinest gift, And Virtue, thro' this labyrinth we tread.

The gay, ferene, good-natur'd Burgundy, Virtue and Sense I mean not to disjoin ;
Or the fresh fragrant vintage of the Rhine ; Virtue and Sense are one: and, trust me, still
And wish that Heav'n from mortals had withheld A faithless heart betrays the head unfound.
The grape, and all intoxicating bowls.

Virtue (for mere Good-nature is a fool)
Belides, it wounds you fore to recollect Is Sense and Spirit with Huinanity:
What follies in your loose unguarded hour 'Tis fometimes angry, and its frown confounds;
Escap'd. For one irrevocable word,

'Tis ev'n vindiêtive; but in vengeance just. Perhaps that meant no harın, you lose a friend; Knaves fain would laugh at it; Tome great ones Or in the rage of wine your hafty hand

dare; Performs a deed to haunt you to your grave.

But at his heart the most undaunted fon Add, that your means, your health, your parts of fortune dreads its name and awfu! charins. decay;

To nobleft uses this determines wealth; Your friends avoid you; brutishly transform’d, This is the solid pomp of prosperous days; They hardly know you; or if one remains The peace and thelter of adversity. To with you well, he wishes you in heav'n. And if you pant for glory, build your fame Despis’d, unwept you fall, who might have left on this foundation, which the secret shock A sacred, cherish'd, fadly-pleasing name; Defies of Envy, and all-fapping Time. A name still to be utter'd with a ligh,

The gawdy gloss of fortune only strikes Your last ungrateful scene has quite effac'd The vulgar eye; the suff'rage of the wife, All sense and mem'ry of your former worth. The praise that's worth ambition, is attain’d

How to live happiest ; how avoid the pains, By fenic alone, and dignity of mind. The disappointments, and disgusts of those Virtue, the strength and beauty of the soul, Who would in pleasure all their hours employ; Is the best gift of Heav'n: a happiness The precepts here of a divine old man

That ev'n above the smiles and frowns of Fate I could recite. Tho'old, he still retain'd Exalts great Nature's favourites : a wealth His manly sense and energy of mind.

That ne'er encumbers, nor to baser hands Virtuous and wife he was, but not severe ; Can be transferr'd: it is the only good He still remember'd that he once was young; Man justly boasts of, or can call his own. His easy presence check'd no decent joy. Riches are oft by guilt and basenets earn'd ; Him ev'n the dissolute admir'd; for he

Or dealt by chance, to shield a lucky knave,
A graceful looseness, when he plcas'd, put on, Or throw a cruel fun-fhine on a fool.
And laughing could instruct. Much had he read, But for one end, one much-neglected use,
Much more had seen; he study'd from the life, Are riches worth your care (for Nature's wants
And in th’original perus'd mankind.

Are few, and without opulence fupply'd):
Vers'd in the woes and vanities of life, This noble end is, to produce the Soul;
He pity'd Man: and much he pily'd those To Thew the virtues in the fairelt light;
Whom falsely-smiling Fate has curs'd with means To inake Humanity the ininifter
To dissipate their days in queft of joy.

Of bounteous Providence; and teach the breast
Our aim is happiness; 'tis yours, 'uis mine, That gen'rous luxury the Gods enjoy.
He said, 'ris the pursuit of all that live;

Thus, in his graver vein, the friendly fage Yet few attain it, if 'twas e'er attain'd.

Sometimes declain'd. Of right and wrong he But they the widest wander from the mark,

taught Who thro' the flow'ry paths of faunt'ring joy Truths as refin'd as ever Athens heard; Seck this coy Goddess; that from stage to Rage And (strange to tell !) he practis'd what he Invites us still, but shifts as we pursue.

preach'd. For, not to name the pains that pleasure brings Skill'd in the Passions, how to check their fivay To counterpoife itfelf, relentless Fate

He knew, as far as reason can controul Forbids that we thro'gay voluptuous wilds The lawless pow'rs. But other cares are mine:

Form'd

Form' in the school of Pæon, I relate

The cares of love amongst an hundred brides. What Passions hurt the body, what improve: Th'event is doubtful : for there are who find Avoid thein, or invite them, as you may. A care in this; there are who find it not.

Know then, whatever cheerful and serene 'Tis no relief, alas! it rather galls Supports the mind, supports the body too. The wound to those who are sincerely sick. Hence the most vital movement mortals feel For while fronti fev’rifh and tumultuous joys Is Hope; the balm and life-blood of the foul. The nerves grow languid, and the foul subsides, It pleases, and it lasts. Indulgent Heav'n The tender fancy smarts with ev'ry sting, Sent down the kind delusion thro' the paths And what was love before is madness now, Of rugged life, to lead us patient on,

Is health your care, or luxury your aim ? And make our happiest state no tedious thing. le temp'rate still. When Nature bids, obey; Our greatest gool, and what we least can spare, ller wild impatient fallies bear no curb: Is Hope; the last of all our evils, Fcar.

But when the prurient habit of delight, But there are Pallions grateful to the breast, Or loote imagination, spurs you on And yet no friends to life: perhaps they please To deuds above your strength, impute it nde Or to excess, and dissipate the soul; (clown, To Nature: Nature all compulsion hates. Or while they please, torment. The stubborn Ah! let nor luxury nor vain renown The ill-tam'd ruilian, and pale usurer

Urge you to fcats you well inight sleep without; (If love's omnipotence fuch hearts can mould) To make what should be rapture a fatigue, Mav fafely mellow into love, and grow A tedious talk; nor in thc wanton arms Refin’d, humane, and gen'rous, if they can. Of evining Laïs inclt your manhood down ; Love in such boloins never to a fault

For from the colliquation of soft joys (was !
Or pains or pleales. But, ye finer fouls, How chang'd you rise! the ghost of what you
Form'd to foft luxury, and prompt to thrill Languid, and melancholy, and gaunt, and wan;
With all the tumults, all the joys and pains, Your veins exhausted, and your nerves unftrung.
That beauty gives, with caution and reserve Spoil'd of its balm and sprightly zest, the blood
Indulge the fiveet dettroyer of repose, [Cares. Grows vapid phiegm; along the tender nerves
Nor court too much the Queen of charming (To each slight impulle tremblingly awake)
For, while the cherish'd poifon in your breast A fubtle Fiend that mimics all the plagues
Ferments and inaddens; fick with jealousy, Rapid and restleis, springs from part to part.
Absence, diftruit, or even with anxious joy, The blooming honours of your youth are fallen;
The wholefome appetites and pow'rs of life Your vigour pines; your vital pow'rs decay;
Diffolve in languor. The coy stomach loaths Diseases haunt you; and untimely age
The genial board: your cheerful days are gone; Creeps on, unfócial, impotent, and lewd.

The gen'rous lioom that flush'd your cheeks is Infatuate, inpious epicure! to waste
To fighs devoted, and to tender pains, [fled. The stores of pleasure, cheerfulness, and health
I'enfive you sit, or folitary ftray,

Infatuate all who make delight thcir trade,
And waste your youth in muling. Musing first And coy perdition ev'ry hour pursue.
Toy'ů into care your unfutjecting heart:

Who pines with love, or in lascivious flames It found a liking there, a sportful fire,

Consumes, is with his own consent undone: And that fomented into serious love;

He chufes to be wretched, to be mad; Which musing daily strengthens and improves And warn’d, procceds, and wilful, to his fate, Thro’all the heights of fondness and romance : But there's a pallion, whose tempestuous sway And you're undone, the fatal shaft has sped, Tears up each virtue planted in the breast, If once ye doubt whether you love or no: And shakes to ruin proud Philosophy. The body wastes away; th’infected mind, For pale and trembling Anger rushes in, Diffolv'd in female tenderness, forgets

With fault'ring speech, and eyes that wildly Each manly virtue, and grows dend to fame.

Itarc; Sweet Heav'n froin such intoxicating charms Fierce as the tiger, madder than the feas, Defend all worth y breasts! Not that I deem Defperate, and arm'd with more than human Love always dangerous, always to be hunn'd.

ftrength. Love well repaid, and not too weakly funk How foon the calın, humane, and polith'd man In wanton and unmaniy tenderness,

Forget, compunction, and starts up a fiend ! Adds bloom to healih; o'er ev'ry virtuc sheds W'ho pines in love, or wastes with filent cares, A gry, humane, and amiable grace,

Envy, or ignominy, or tender grief, And brightens all the ornaments of man. Slowly descends, and ling'ring, to the fades : But fruitlcis, hopeless, disappointeil, rack'd But he whom anger stings, drops, if he dies, With jealousy, fatigu'd with hope and fear, At once, and rushes apoplećtic down; Too fcrious, or too languishingly fond,

Or a fierce fever hurries him to hell. Unnerves the body, and unmans the foul. For, as the body thro' unnumber'd strings And tome have du'd for love, and some run mad! Reverbcrates cach vibration of the soul; And some with dctp'rate hand themselves have As is the paflion, such is fill the pain

Some to extinguish, oliers to prevent, [flain. The body feels; or chronic, or acute. A mad devotion to one cang'rous Fair,

And oft á fulden tiorm at once o'erposv'rs Court all they mect; in hopes to dilipate The life, or gives your reason to the winds.

Such

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Such fates attend the raih alarm of fear, Who, with haid rage, or folemn pomp of sounds, And sudden grief, and rage, and sudden joy. Inflaines, exalts, and ravishes the foul;

There are, meantime, to whom the boist'rous Now tender, plaintive, liveet alınost to pain, Is health, and only fills the tails of life; (fit In love diffolves voll; now in sprightly strains For where the mind a torpid winter leads, Breathes a gay rapture thro'yo:ir thrilling breast; Wrapt in a boily corpulent and cold,

Or mells the heart with airs divinely fad; And each clogg'd function lazily moves on, Or wakes to horror the tremendous itings. A generous fally spurns th’incumbent load,

Such was the bard, whose heav'nly strains of old Unlocks the breatt, and gives a cordial glow. Appeas’d the fiend of melancholy Saul. But if your wrathful blood is apt to boil,

Such was,

if old and heathen fame say true, Or are your nerves too irritably strung,

The man who bade the Theban domes afcend, Wave all dispute; be cautious if you joke, And tam'd the fava ye nations with his fony; Keep Lent for ever, and fortivear the bowl;

And such the Thracian, whore harmonious lyre, For one ralh moment fonds you to the shades, Tun’d to soft woe, made all the mountains Or thatters ev'ry hopeful scheme of life,

weep;
And gives to horror all your days to come. Sooth'd even the inexorable pow'rs of Hell,
Fate, arm'd with thunder, fire, and ev'ry plague And half redeem'd his loft Eurydice.
That ruins, tortures, or distracts mankind, Music exalts cach joy, allays each grief,
And makes the happy wretched, in an hour Expels diseases, foftens ev'ry pain,
O'erwhelms you not with woes so horrible Subdues the rage of poison, and the plague;
As your own wrath, nor gives more sudden And hence the wife of ancient days adorid
blows.

One pow'r of phyfic, inclody, and long.
While choler works, good friend, you may

be wrong;
Distrust yourlelt, and seep before you fight.
'Tis not too late to-morrow to be brave;

§ 73. Ode on the Spring. GRAY, If honour bids, to-morrow kill or die.

LO! where the rofy-bofou'd hours,
But calm advice against a raging fit

Fair Venus' train, appear,
Avails too little; and it braves the pow'r Disclose the long-expecting flow'rs,
Of all that ever taught in profe or fong, And wake the purple year !
To tame the fiend that sleeps a gentle lamb, The Attic warbler pours her throat,
And wakes a lion. Unprovok'd and calm, Rciponsive to the cuckow's note,
You reason well, see as you ought to fee, The untaught harmony of spring;
And wonder at the madnels of mankind :

While, whisp’ring pleasure as they fly,
Seiz'd with the common rage, you foon forget Cool Zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky
The speculation of your wiser hours.

Their gather'd fragrance fling.
Beset with furies of all deadly Mapes,
Fierce and insidious, violent and flow,

Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch
With all that urge or lure us on to fate,

A broader browncr fhade;
What refuge fhall we seek, what arms prepare! Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech
Where realon proves too weak, or void of wiles, O'crcanopies the glade ;
To cope with subtle or impetuous pow'rs,

Beside foine water's rushy brink
I would invoke new pallions to your aid :

With me the Mufe shall fit, and think
With indignation would extinguish fear, (At ease reclin’d in ruity state)
With fear or gen'rous pity vanquish rage,

How vain the ardour of the crowd,
And love with pride; and force to force oppose. How low, how little are the proud,

There is a charm, a power that fways the" How indigent the great!
Bids every passion revel or be still; [brcali;

Still is the toiling hand of Care;
Inspires with rage, or all your cares diffolves;

The panting herds repose : Can footh distration, and almost despair.

Yet hark, how thro' the peopl'd air
That pow'r is Music: Far beyond the stretch

The busv murmur glows !
Of those unmeaning warblers on our stage; The infect youth are on the wing,
Those clumsy heroes, those fat-headed gods,

Eager to taste the honey'd spring,
Who move no paliion justly but contempt: And Aoat ainid the liquid noon:
Who, like our dancers (light indeed and strong!) Some lightly o’er the current skim,
Do wond'rous fcats, but never heard of grace.

Some Thew their gaily-gilded trim
The fault is ours; we bear those monitrous arts ;
Good Heav'n! Ive praise them : we, with loud: Quick-glancing to the fun.
est peals,

To Contemplation's fober eye
Applaud the fool that highest lifts his heels;

Such is the race of man; And, with infipid Thew of rapture, die

And they that creep, and they that fly, Of idiot notes impertinently long.

Shall end where they began.
But he the Muse's laurel justly Mares,

Alike the buty and the gay
A poet he, and touch'd with Heay’n’s own fire, But futter thro' life's little day,

YE

In fortuhe's varying colours dreft:

$ 75. Ode on a diftant Profpeat of Eton College. Brush'd by the hand of rough mischance,

GRAY. Or chilled by age, their airy dance They leave in duft to reft.

E diftant spires, ye antique tow'rs,

That crown the wat'ry glade, Methinks I hear, in accent low,

Where grateful Science still adores The sportive kind reply,

Her Henry's holy fhade ; Poor moralift! and what art thou?

And ye that from the stately brow A solitary Ay!

Of Windsor's heights th’expanse below Thy jovs no glitt'ring female meets,

Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey, No hive haft thou of hoarded sweets,

Whose turf, whose fhade, whose flow'rs ainong No painted plumage to ditplay:

Wanders the hoary Thames along
On hafty wings thy youth is flown;

His silver-winding way:
Thy fun is set, thy 1pring is gone.
Wé frolic while 'tis May.

Ah happy hills ! ah pleasing Thade!
Ah fields belov'd in vain !
Where once my

careless childhood stray'd, § 74. Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat, A Itranger yet to pain!

I feel the gales that from ye blow, drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes.

A momentárv blits bcftoiv;

GRAY. As waving fresh their glad fome wing, 'TWAS on a lofty vale's fide,

My weary soul they seem to footh,
Where China's gayett art liad dy'd

And, redolent of joy and youth,
The azure for’rs that blow!

To breathe a second spring. Demureti of the tabby kind,

Say, father Thames (for thou hast seen The pensive Selima reclinid,

Full many a sprightly race, Gaz'd on the lake below,

Disporting on thy margent green, Her conscious tail her jov declar'd;

The paths of pleasure trace) The fair round face, the snowy beard,

Who foremost now delight to cleave, The velvet of her paws!

With plant arms, thy glatly wave? Her coat that with the tortoise vies,

The captive linnet which enthral : Her ears of jet, and ein’rald eves,

What idle progeny fucceed
She faw, and purr'd applause.

To chace the rolling circle's 1peed,
Or

urge the flying ball?
Still had she gaz'd; but 'midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,

While fome, on earnest business bent, The Genji of the stream:

Their murm’ring labours ply, Their scaly arınour's Tyrian hue,

Gainst graver lours that bring constraint Throʻrichest purple to the view

To sweeten liberty ; betray'd a golden gleain.

Soine bold adventurers disdain

The limits of their little reign,
The hapless nymph with wonder faw:
A whisker first, and then a claw,

And unknown regions dare descry.
With many an ardent wish,

Still as they run they look behind, She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize.

They hear a voice in ev'ry wind, What female heart can gold despise !

And snatch a fearful joy. What cat's averse to fish ?

Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed, Presumptuous maid! with looks intent

Less pleasing when possest; Again the stretch'd, again the bent,

The tear forgot as soon as shed,

The sunshinc of the breast : Nor knew the gulph between

Theis huxom health, of rosy hue, (Malignant Fate lat by and fmild);

Wild wit, invention ever new,
The ilipp’ry' verge her feet beguild,
She tun blid headlong in.

And lively cheer, of vigour born;

The thoughtlcis day, the easy night, Eight times emerging from the flood

The spirits pure, the Numbers light,
She mew'd to ev'rs wat’ry god,

That Ay th'approach of morn.
Some speedy aid to send.
No dolphin came, no Nereid ftirr'd,

Alas! regardless of their doom,

The little victims play!
Nor cruel Tom, nor Sufan heard :
A fav’rite has no friend!

No fense have they of ills to come,

Nor care beyond to-day : Froin hence, ye beauties, undeceiv'd,

Yet Ice, how all around can wait Know, onc false step is ne'er retriev'd!

The ministers of human fate, And be with caution bold.

And black Misfortune's baleful train I Not all that tempus your wand'ring eyes

Ah, thew then where in ambush ftand, And heedlefs hearts, is lawful prize;

To seize their prey, the murd'rous band ! Nur all that gliiiens guld.

Ah, tell them they are men!

7

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