At eve

God made the country, and man made the town. What wonder then, that health and virtue, gifts That can alone make sweet the bitter draught That life holds out to all, fhould most abound, And leaft be threaten'd in the fields and groves? Poffefs ye therefore, ye who, borne about In chariots and fedans, know no fatigue But that of idlenefs, and tafte no scenes But fuch as art contrives, poffefs ye ftill Your element; there only ye can fhine; There only minds like yours can do harm. Our groves were planted to confole at noon The penfive wand'rer in their shades. The noon-beam, fliding foftly in between The fleeping leaves, is all the light they wish, Birds warbling all the mufic. We can spare The splendor of your lamps, they but eclipse Our fofter fatellite. Your fongs confound Our more harmonious notes. The thrush departs Scar'd, and th'offended nightingale is mute: There is a public mifchief in your mirth, It plagues your country. Folly fuch as yours, Grac'd with a 1word, and worthier of a fan, Has made, which enemies could ne'er have done, Our arch of empire, ftedfast but for you, A mutilated structure foon to fall.

§ 147. The Want of Difcipline in the English Univerfities. CoWPER.

IN colleges and halls in ancient days,

When learning, virtue, picty, and truth, * Were precious and inculcated with care, There dwelt a fage call'd Difcipline His head Not yet by Time completely filver'd o'er, Bespoke him paft the bounds of freakish youth, But itrong for fervice ftill, and unimpair'd. His eye was meek and gentle, and a fimile Play'd on his lips, and in his fpeech was heard Paternal fweetnefs, dignity, and love. The occupation deareft to his heart Was to encourage goodness. He would stroke The head of modeft and ingenuous worth That bluth'd at its own praife, and prefs the youth [grew, Clofe to his fide that pleas'd him. Learning Beneath his care a thriving vigorous plant; The mind was well inform'd, the pations held Subordinate, and diligence was choice. If e'er it chanc'd, as fometimes chance it muft, That one among fo many overleap'd The limits of controul, his gentle cye Grew ftern, and darted a fevere rebuke; His frown was full of terror, and his voice Shook the delinquent with fuch fits of awe, As left him not, till penitence had won Lost favour back again, and clos'd the breach. But Difcipline, a faithful fervant long, Declin'd at length into the vale of years: A palfy ftruck his arm, his sparkling eye Was quench'd in rheums of age, his voice un

Their good old friend; and Discipline at length,
O'erlook'd and unemploy'd, fell fick and died.
Then Study languifh'd, Emulation flept,
And Virtue fled. The fchools became a scene
Of folemn farce, where ignorance in filts,
His cap well lin'd with logic not his own,
With parrot-tongue perform'd the Scholar's part,
Proceeding foon a graduated Dunce.
Then Compromife had place, and Scrutiny
Became ftone-blind, Precedence went in truck,
And he was competent whofe purse was so.
A diffolution of all bonds enfu'd;

The curbs invented for the muleifh mouth
Of headstrong youth were broken; bars and bolts
Grew rufty by difufe, and maffy gates
Forgot their office, op'ning with a touch;
Till gowns at length are found mere inasquerade;
The taffel'd cap and the fpruce band a jeft,
A mock'ry of the world. What need of these
For gamesters, jockies, brothellers impure,
Spendthrifts, and booted sportsmen, oft'ner feen
With belted waift and pointers at their heels,
Than in the bounds of duty? What was learn'd,
If aught was learn'd in childhood is forgot;
And fuch expence as pinches patents blue,
And mortifies the lib'ral hand of love,
Is fquander'd in purfuit of idle fports
And vicious pleafures; buys the boy a name
That fits a ftigma on his father's houfe,
And cleaves through life infeparably clofe
To him that wears it. What can after-games
Of riper joys, and commerce with the world,
The lewd vain world that must receive him foon,
Add to fuch erudition thus acquir'd,
Where fcience and where virtue are profess'd?
They may confirm his habits, rivet fast
His folly; but to spoil him is a task
That bids defiance to th'united pow'rs
Of fashion, diffipation, taverns, ftews,
Now, blame we most the nurflings or the nurse?
The children crook'd, and twisted, and deform'd
Through want of care, or her whole winking eye
And flumb'riag ofcitancy mars the brood?
The nurfe no doubt. Regardless of her charge,
She needs hertelf correction; needs to learn
That it is dang'rous fporting with the world,
With things fo facred as a nation's truft,
The nurture of her youth, her dearest pledge.

For fuch immeafurable woe appears;
Thefe Flora banishes, and gives the fair [own.
Sweet fimiles and bloom, leis tranfient than her
It is the conftant revolution, ftale
And taftelefs of the fame repeated joys,
That palls and fatiates, and makes languid life
A pedlar's pack, that bows the bearer down.
Health fuffers, and the fpirits ebb; the heart
Recoils from its own choice-at the full feaft
Is famifh'd-finds no mufic in the fong,
No fmartnefs in the jeft, and wonders why.
Yet thousands ftill defire to journey on,
Though halt and weary of the path they tread.
The paralytic, who can hold her cards,
But cannot play them, borrows a friend's hand
To deal and shuffle, to divide and fort
Her mingled fuits and fequences, and fits
Spectatrefs both and fpectacle, a fad
And filent cypher, while her proxy plays.
Others are dragg'd into the crowded room
Between fupporters; and once feated, fit,
Through downright inability to rife,
Till the ftout bearers lift the corpfe again.
Thefe fpeak a loud inemento. Yet even thefe
Themselves love life, and cling to it, as he
That overhangs a torrent to a twig.
They love it, and yet loath it; fear to die,
Yet icorn the purposes for which they live.
Then wherefore not renounce them? No-the
dread,

The flavish dread of folitude that breeds
Reflection and remorfe, the fear of fhame,
And their invet'rate habits all forbid.

Whom call we gay? That honor has been long
The boast of mere pretenders to the name.
The innocent are gay-the lark is gay
That dries his feathers, faturate with dew,
Beneath the rofy cloud, while yet the beams
Of day-fpring overfhoot his humble neft.
The peatant too, a witnefs of his fong,
Himfelf a fongfter, is as gay as he.
But fave me from the gaiety of those
Whofe head-achs nail them to a noon-day bed;
And fave me too from theirs whofe haggard eyes
Flath defperation, and betray their pangs
For property ftripp'd off by cruel chance;
From gaiety that fills the bones with pain,
The mouth with blafphemy, the heart with woe.

COWPER.

And let that pafs-'twas but a trick of state. -
A brave man knows no malice, but at once
Forgets, in peace, the injuries of war,
And gives his direft foe a friend's embrace.
And, tham'd as we have been, to the very beard
Brav'd and defy'd, and in our own fea prov'd
Too weak for thofe decifive blows, that once
Infur'd us maft'ry there, we yet retain
Some finall pre-eminence; we justly boast
At leaft fuperior jockeyfhip, and claim
The honors of the turf as all our own.
Go then, well worthy of the praife ye feek,
And fhew the fhame ye might conceal at home,
In foreign eyes!-be grooms, and win the plate,
Where once your nobler fathers won a crown!

§ 153. The Pulpit the Engine of Reformation. COWPER.

THE pulpit therefore (and I name it, fill'd

With folemn awe, that bids me well beware With what intent I touch the holy thing) The pulpit (when the fatʼrift has at laft, Strutting and vap'ring in an empty school, Spent all his force and made no profelyte) I fay the pulpit (in the fober use Of its legitimate peculiar pow'rs) Muft ftand acknowledg'd, while the world thali The most important and effectual guard, Support, and ornament, of virtue's caufe. There ftands the meffenger of truth; there stands The legate of the fkies: his theme divine, His office facred, his credentials clear.

By him the violated law speaks out

[ftand,

Its thunders; and by him, in strains as sweet
As angels ufe, the golpel whifpers peace.
He ftablishes the ftrong, reftores the weak,
Reclaims the wand'rer, binds the broken heart,
And, arm'd himfelf in panoply complete
Of heav'nly temper, furnishes with arms
Bright as his own, and trains by ev'ry rule
The facramental hoft of God's elect.
Of holy difcipline, to glorious war,

I

$154. The Petit-Maitre Clergyman. COWPER. VENERATE the man, whofe heart is warm, Whofe hands are pure, whofe doctrine and Coincident, exhibit lucid proof [whofe life

NOW hoift the fail, and let the ftreamers float
Upon the wanton breezes; ftrew the deck
With lavender, and fprinkle liquid tweets,
That no rude favour maritime invade
The nofe of nice nobility. Breathe foft
Ye clarionets, and softer still ye flutes,
That winds and waters, lull'd by magic founds,
May bear us fmoothly to the Gallic thore.
True, we have loft an empire-let it pafs.
True, we may thank the perfidy of France,
That pick'd the jewel out of England's crown,
With all the cunning of an envious threw.

In converfation frivolous, in dress
Extreme, at once rapacious and profufe;
Frequent in park, with lady at his fide,
Ambling and prattling scandal as he goes;
But rare at home, and never at his books
Or with his pen, fave when he fcrawls a card;
Conftant at routs, familiar with a round
Of ladyships, a stranger to the poor;
Ambitious of preferment for its gold,
And well prepar'd by ignorance and floth,
By infidelity and love o' th'world,

Το

To make God's work a finecure: a slave
To his own pleafures and his patron's pride-
From fuch Apoftles, oh, ye mitred heads,
Preferve the church! and lay not careless hands
On fculls that cannot teach, and will not learn.

$155. Verfes written upon a Pedestal beneath a Row of Elms in a Meadow near Richmond Ferry, belonging to Richard Owen Cambridge, Efq. September, 1760.

By the Author of Love Elegies.
YE green-hair'd nymphs whom Pan allows
To guard from harm these favour'd boughs;
Ye blue-cy'd Naiads of the stream,
That foothe the warm poetic dream;
Ye elves and fprights, that thronging round,
When midnight darkens all the ground,
In antic measures uncontroul'd,
Your fairy fports and revels hold,
And up and down, where'er ye pafs,
With many a ringlet print the grafs;
If e'er the bard hath hail'd your pow'r
At morn's grey dawn, or evening hour;
If e'er by moon-light on the plain
Your ears have caught th'enraptur'd strain ;
From every flow'ret's velvet head,
From reverend Thames's oozy bed,
From thefe mofs'd elms, where, prifon'd deep,
Conceal'd from human eyes, ye fleep,
If these your haunts be worth your care,
Awake, arife, and hear my prayer!

O banish from this peaceful plain
The perjur'd nymph, the faithlefs fwain,
The ftubborn heart, that fcorns to bow,
And harsh rejects the honeft vow :
The fop, who wounds the virgin's car,
With aught that fenfe would blush to hear,
Or, falfe to honor, mean and vain,
Defames the worth he cannot stain :
The light coquct, with various art,
Who cafts her net for ev'ry heart,
And fmiling flatters to the chace
Alike the worthy and the bafe:
The dame, who, proud of virtue's praise,
Is happy if a fifter ftrays,

And, confcious of unclouded fame,
Delighted, fpreads the tale of shame:
But far, O! banifh'd far be they,

Who hear unmov'd the orphan's cry,
Who fec, nor wifh to wipe away

The tear that fwells the widow's eye;
Th'unloving man, whofe narrow mind
Dildains to feel for human-kind,

At others blifs whofe cheek ne'er glows,
Whole breaft ne'er throbs with others wocs,
Whofe hoarded fum of private joys
His private care alone deftroys;
Ye fairies, caft your fpells around,
And guard from fuch this hallow'd ground!

But welcome all, who figh with truth,
Each conftant maid and faithful youth,
Whom mutual love alone hath join'd,
Sweet union of the willing mind!

Hearts pair'd in Heaven, not meanly fold,
Law-licenc'd prostitutes for gold:
And welcome thrice, and thrice again
The chofen few, the worthy train,
Whofe fteady feet, untaught to stray,
Still tread where virtue marks the way;
Whole fouls no thought, whofe hands have
No deed which honour might not own; [known
Who, torn with pain, or ftung with care,

In others blifs can claim a part,
And, in life's brightest hour, can share

Each pang that wrings another heart!
Ye guardian fpirits, when fuch ye fee,
Sweet peace be theirs, and welcome free!
Clear be the sky from clouds or fhowers
Green be the turf, and fresh the flowers!

And that the youth, whofe pious care
Lays on your shrine this honest prayer,
May, with the reft, admittance gain,
And vifit oft this pleasant scene,
Let all who love the Mufe attend:
Who loves the Mufe is Virtue's friend!

Such then alone may venture here,
Who, free from guilt, are free from fear;
Whole wide affections can embrace
The whole extent of human race;
Whom Virtue and her friends approve;
Whom Cambridge and the Mufes love.

$156. The Recantation. An Ode. By the fame. BY Love too long depriv'd of reft

(Fell tyrant of the human breast!)
His vaffal long, and worn with pain,
Indignant late I fpurn'd the chain;
In verfe, in profe, I fung and fwore,
No charms fhould e'er enflave me more,
Nor neck, nor air, nor lip, nor cyc,
Again fhould force one tender figh.

As, taught by Heaven's informing power,
From ev'ry fruit and ev'ry flower,
That nature opens to the view,
The bee extracts the nectar-dew;
A vagrant thus, and free to change,
From fair to fair I vow'd to range,
And part from each without regret
As pleas'd and happy as I met.

Then freedom's praife infpir'd my tongue,
With freedom's praife the vallies rung,
And every night, and every day

My heart thus pour'd th'enraptur'd lay: My cares are gone, my forrows ceafe, "My breaft regains its wonted peace, "And joy and hope returning prove, "That Reason is too ftrong for Love."

Such was my boaft-but ah! how vain! How fhort was Reason's vaunted reign! The firm refolve I form'd ere-while, How weak, oppos'd to Clara's fmile! Chang'd is the ftrain-The vallies round With Freedom's praise no more refound; But ev'ry night and ev'ry day My full heart pour'd the alter'd lay.

Offended