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The thought of death, which reason, too supine, To call his victims from the faireft fold,
Or misemploy'd, so rarely fastens there. And sheath his shafts in all the pride of life.
Nor reason, nor affection, no, nor both When flooded with abundance, purpled o'er
Combin’d, can break the witchcrafts of the world. With recent honours, bloom'd with ev'ry bliss,
Behold, th'inexorable hour at hand!

Set up in ostentation, made the gaze,
Behold, the inexorable hour forgot!

The gaudy centre of the public eye, And to forget it, the chief end of life,

When fortune thus has toss’d her child in air, Tho' well to ponder it is life's chief end. Snatcht from the covert of an huinble state,

How often have I seen him dropt at once, § 113. Refletion. Young.

Our morning's envy! and our ev'ning's sigh!

As if her bounties were the signal giv'n,

SOUL without reflection, like a pile The Aow'ry wreath to mark the sacrifice,
Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.

And call Death's arrows on the destin’d prey.

High fortune seems in cruel league with fate, $ 114. Inattention to the Voice of Death. Young. Ask you for what? To give his war on man TELL me, fome God' my guardian angel' tell, The deeper dread, and more illuftrious spoil; What thus infatuates? what enchantment Thus to keep daring mortals more in awe. plants

And burns Lorenzo ftill for the sublime The phantom of an age 'twixt us and death,

Of life? to hang his airy nest on high, Already at the door He knocks; we hear,

On the flight timber of the topmost bough, And yet we will not hear. What mail defends Rockt at each breeze, and menacing a fall? Our untouch'd hearts? What miracle turns off

Granting grim death at equal distance there ; The pointed thought, which from a thousand Yet peace begins just where ambition ends. Is daily darted, and is daily shunn'd?, [quivers Lorenzo ! no: 'Tis happiness disdain’d.

What makes man wretched ? Happiness deny'd ? We stand, as in a battle, throngs on throngs Around us falling; wounded oft ourselves;

She comes too meanly drest to win our smile; Tho' bleeding with our wounds, immortal'till! And calls herself Content, a homely name! We see time's furrows on another's brow,

Our flame is transport, and content our scorn. And death entrench'd preparing his assault;

Ambition turns, and shuts the door against her, How few themselves, in that just mirror, see !

And weds a toil, a tempeft, in her stead; Or, feeing, draw their inference as strong!

A tempest to warm transport near of kin. There death is certain ; doubtful here: He must, Unknowing what our mortal state admits, And soon: We may, within an age, expire.

Life's modest joys we ruin, while we raise ;

And all our ecstasies are wounds to peace; Tho' gray our heads, our thoughts and aims are green;

Peace, the full portion of mankind below.

(lent; Like damag'd clocks, whose hand and bell dis

And since thy peace is dear, ambitious youth ! Folly sings Six, while Nature points at Twelve. Of fortune fond ! as thoughtless of thy fate!

What folly can be ranker > Like our fhadows, As late I drew death’s pičture to stir up [fee Our wishes lengthen as our fun declines.

Thy wholesome face; now drawn in contrast, No with should loitcr, then, this side the

Gay Fortune's, thy vain hopes to reprimand.

grave; Our hearts should leave the world before the See high in air the sportive goddess hangs, Calls for our carcases to mend the foil.

Unlocks her casket, spreads her glittering ware,

[knell Enough to live in tempeft, die in port;

And calls the giddy winds to puff abroad should fly concourse, cover in retreat

Her random bounties o'er the gaping throng. Defects of juilgment, and the will subdue;

All rush rapacious, friends o'er trodden friends; Walk thoughtful oa the filent, folemn thore

Sons o'er their father, fubjects o'er their kings, Of that vast ocean it must fail to foon;

Priests o'er their gods, and lovers o'er the fair And put good works on board; and wait the wind (Still more adord) to Inatch the golden show'r. That Thortly blows us into worlds unknown;

Gold glitters most where virtue shines no more, If unconsider'd too, a dreadful scene!

As stars froin absent luns have leavé to shine. All ihould be prophets to themielves; foresee what a precious pack of votaries Their future fate; their future fute foretaste :

Unkennell’d from the prisons and the stews, This art would waste clie bitterness of death.

Pour in, all open in their idol's praise ; The thought of death alone the fear destroys;

All, ardent, eye each wafture of her hand, A disaffection to that precious thought

And, wide expanding their voracious jaws, Is more than midnight darkness on the soul,

Mortel on morsel swallow down unchew'd, Which neeps beneath it, on a prccipice,

Untasted, thro' mad appetite for more;
Puff'd off by the lirit blast, and lot for ever.

Gorg'd in the throat, yet lean and rav'nous ftill.
Sagacious all, to trace the smallest game,

And bold to seize the greatest. If (blest chance!) § 115. Profperily, Content, and Ambition.

Court-zephyrs sweetly breathe, they launch, YOUNG.

they fly, O HOW portentous is prosperity!

O’er juft, o’er sacred, all-forbidden ground, How, coinet-like, it threatens while it shines! Drunk with the burning scent of place or pow'r, Few years but yield us proof of death's ambition, Staunch to the foot of lucre, till they die.


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$ 117.

$ 116. Lyfander and Afpafia. YOUNG, And fouls in ermine fcorn a foul without ?

Can place or lessen us, or aggrandize? LYSANDER, happy past the common lot, Pygmies are pygmies still, tho' percht on Alps;

Was warn’d of danger; but too gay to fear. And pyramids are pyramids in vales.
He woo'd the fair Aspalia : She was kind : Each man makes his own stature, builds himself:
In youth, form,fortune,fame,they both were bleft; Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids :
All who knew, envy'd; yet


Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall.
Can fancy form more finith'd happiness?
Fixt was the nuptial hour. Her stately dome
Rofe on the founding beach. The glittering spires $ 119. Ambition and Fame. YOUNG.
Float in the wave, and break against the shore :
So break those glittring thadows, human joys.


The verdict of its shame. When fouls take The faithless morning Imild: he takes his leave, At high prelumptions of their own desert, (fire To re-embrace, in ecstasies, at eve.

One age is poor applause; the mighty thout, The rising storm forbids. The news arrives :

The thunder by the living few begun, Untold, she saw it in her servant's eye.

Late time must echo: worlds unborn resound. She felt it seen (her heart was apt to feel); Wc with our names eternally to live: (thought, And, drown'd, without the furious ocean's aid, Wild dreain! which nc'er had haunted human In fuffocating sorrows, shares his tomb.

Had not our natures been eternal too.
Now, round the sumptuous bridal monument Instinct points out an intrest in hereafter :
The guilty billows innocently roar;

But our blind reason sees not where it lies; And the rough sailor passing, drops a tear. Or, secing, gives the substance for the shade.

1 Fame is the shade of iminortality,

And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught, Genius connected with Ignominy. Condemn’d; it shrinks to nothing in the grasp.

YOUNG. Consult th'ambitious, 'tis ambition's cure.

“ And is This all?" cry'd Cæsar at his height, HEART merit wanting, mount we ne'er fo Disgusted. This third proof ambition brings high,

Of immortality. The first in faine, Our height is but the gibbet of our name.

Observe him near, your envy will abate; A celebrated wretch, when I behold,

Sham'd at the disproportion vast, between When I behold a genius bright, and base,

The pallion and the purchasc, he will figh Of tow'ring talents, and terrestrial aims;

At such success, and blush at his renown. Methinks I see, as thrown from her high (phere, And why? Because far richer prize invites The glorious fragments of a soul immortal,

His heart; far more illustrious glory calls:
With rubbith mixt, and glittering in the dust.
Struck at the splendid, melancholy fight,

It calls in whispers, yet the deafest hear.
At once compaffion soft, and envy, rise-
But wherefore envy? Talents angel-bright,

$ 120. Human Praise. YOUNG.
If wanting worth, are shining instruments
In falli ainbition's hand, to finish faults NOR absolutely vain is human praise,
Illustrious, and give infamy renown.

When human is supported by divine.
I'll introduce Lorenzo to himself;

Pleasure and pride (bad masters!) share our hearts, $ 118. Exalted Station. YOUNG.

As love of pleasure is ordain'd to guard

And feed our bodies, and extend our race; -WHAT is station high? The love of praise is planted to protect, 'Tis a proud mendicant; it boasts, and begs; And propagate the glories of the mind. It begs an alms of homage from the throng, What is it but the love of praise inspires, And oft the throng denies its charity.

Matures, refincs, embellishes, exalts, Monarchs and ministers are awful names; Earth's happiness? From that, the delicate, Whocver wear them challenge our devoir. The grand, the marvellous; of civil life, Religion, public order, both exact

Want and convenience, under-workers, lay External homage, and a supple knee,

The basis on which love of glory builds. To beings pompously set up to serve

Nor is thy life, O Virtue! less in debt The mcanest save; all more is merit's due, To Praise, thy secret sti: nulating friend. Her facred and inviolable right:

Were men not proud, what ierit should ivc iniss! Nor ever paid the monarch, but the man. Pride made thc virtues of the pagan world. Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior worth; Praile is the salt that seasons right the man, Nor ever fail of their allegiance there.

And whets his appetite for morial good. Fools, indeed, drop the man in their account, Thirst of applaule is virtue's fecond guard; And vote the manile into majesty.

Rcafon, her first; but rcaton wants an aid; Let the small farage boast his silver fur; Our private reason is a flatterer; His royal robe unborrow'd, and unbought, Thirit of applause calls public judgment in His own, descending from his fires.

To poise our own, to keep an even fcalc, Shall man be proud to wear his livery,

And give endanger'd virtue fairer play.

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§ 121. Hope. Young.

But plants new terrors on the victor's brow: HOPE, of all pasfions, most befriends us here; What pain to quit the world, just made their own! Pallions of prouder name befriend us less.

Their neft so deeply down’d, and built so high! Joy has her tears; and Transport has her death : Too low they build, who build beneath the itars. Hope, like a cordial, innocent, tho' strong, Man's heart at once intpirits, and serenes ; $ 123. Humility true Greatness. YOUNG. Nor makes him pay his wildom for his joys; 'Tis all our prelint state can safely bear,

-DOST thou demand a test, Health to the frame ! and vigour to the mind !

A test, at once infallible and short, A joy attemper'd! a chastis'd delight !

Of real Greatness? That man greatly lives, Like the fair luminer ev’ning mild, and sweet !

Whate'er his fate, or fame, who greatly dies; "Tis man's full eup; his paradise below!

High-Huih'd with hope, where heroes shall de-
If this a true criterion, many courts, [spair.

Illustrious, might afford but few grandees. $ 122. Human Life compared to the Ocean. Th’Almighty, from histhrone,on earth surveys


Nought greater than an honest, humble Heart;

An humble heart His residence! pronounc'd OCEAN! Thou dreadful and tumultuous home His second feat, and rival to the skies.

Of dangers, at eternal war with man ! The private path, the secret acts of men,
Death's capital, where most he domineers, If noble, far the noblest of our lives!
With all his chosen terrors frowning round,
(Tho' lately feasted high at * Albion's cost)
Wide-op'ning, and loud-roaring still for more!

§ 124. Pleasure. Young. Too faithful mirror ! how dost thou reflect PLEASURE's the mistress of etherial powers ; The melancholy face of human life?

For her contend the rival gods above; The strong resemblance tempts me farther still; Pleasure's the mistress of the world below; And, haply, Britain may be deeper struck And well it was for man that pleasure charms : By moral truth, in such a mirror seen,

How would all stagnate, but for pleasure's ray ! Which nature holds for ever at her eye.

How would the frozen stream of action ceasc ! Self-flatter'd, unexperienc'd, high in hope, What is the pulse of this so busy world? When young, with fanguine cheer, and streamers The love of pleasure : That, thro' ev'ry vein, We cut our cablc, launch into the world, [gay, Throws motion, warmth ; and shuts out death And fondly dream each wind and itar our friend; from life. All, in some darling enterprise einbarkt :

Tho'various are the tempers of mankind, But where is he can fathom its extent?

Pleasure's gay family hold all in chaims : Ainid a multitude of artless hands,

Some most affect the black; and some the fair; Ruin's sure perquisite! her lawful prize! Some honest pleasure court; and some, obscene, Some steer aright; but the black blaft blows hard, Plealures obscene are various, as the throng And putls them wide of hope : With hearts of Of pafsions, that can err in human hearts; proof,

Mistake their objects, or transgress their bounds, Full againft wind and tide, some win their way; Think you there's but one whoredom? WhoreAnd when strong effort has deserv'd the port, But when our reason licences delight. [dom all, And tugg'd it into view, 'tis won ! 'ris loft! Doft doubt, Lorenzo ? Thou shalt doubt no more, Thu' ftring their oar, still stronger is their fate ; Thy father chides thy gallantries; yet bugs Thev strike; and while they triumph,they expire. An ugly, common harlot in the dark; Ja stieis of weather, most; some sink outright; A rank'adulterer with others gold! C'erthem, and o'er their names, the billows clole; And that hag Vengeance, in a corner, charms. Tomorrow knows not they were ever born. Hatred her brothel has, as well as love, Orhers a short memorial leave behind,

Where horrid epicures debauch in blood. Like a flag floating, when the bark's ingulph’d; Whate'er the motive, Pleasure is the mark: Ir foats a inoment, and is feen no more : For Her, the black assaitin draws his sword; Onc Cxsar lives, a thousand are forgot, For Her, dark statesmen trim their midnight lamp, How feit, beneath aufpicious planets born To which no single sacrifice may fall; (Darlings of Providence! fond fate's elect!) For Her, the faint abftains; the miser starves; ilien sivelling tails make good the promis'd port, The Stoic proud, for Pleasure, Pleasure scorn'd; Müb all iheir villes ficighted! Yet ev'm theic, For Her, Amiction's daughters grief indulge, Freighies evith all their withes, foon complain; And find, or hope, a luxury in tears : Free fro! misfortune, not

ee, For Her, guilt, Thame, toil, danger, we defy; They fill arc men; and when is man focure? And, with an aim voluptuous, rush on death. As fataltime, as fiorin! the rush of ycars (escapes Thus universal her despotic power! Beats down their strength; - their numberless And as her empire wide, her praise is just. In ruia und : And, now, their proud success Patron of pleasure ! duater on delight!


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I am thy rival; pleasure I profess;

For all their thoughts, like angels, seen of old Pleasure the purpose of my gloomy song. In Israel's dream, come from, and go to, heav'n; Pleasure is nought but virtue's gayer name; Hence are they studious of sequefter'd scenes ; I wrong her still, I rate her worth too low; While noise and dislipation comfort thec. Virtue the root, and pleasure is the flow'r; And honeft Epicurus’ foes were fools. [fence ! But this sounds harsh, and gives the wise of

§ 127. Joy. YOUNG, If o'er-strain'd wisdom ftill retains the name, VAIN are all sudden fallies of delight; How knits austerity her cloudy brow,

Convulsions of a weak, distemper'd joy. And blames, as bold and hazardous, the praisc Joy's a fixt state; a tenure, not a start. Of pleasure to inankind, unprais’d, too dear! Bliss there is none, but unprecarious bliss : Ye modern stoics ! hear my soft reply; That is the gem : Sell all, and purchase thar. Their senses men will trult: we can't impose; Why go a begging to contingencies, Or, if we could, is imposition right?

Nor gaind with ease, nor safely lov'd, if gain'd? Own honey sweet ; but, owning, add this sting : At good fortuitous, draw back, and paufe; “ When mixt with poison, it is deadly too." Suspect it ; what thou canst ensure, enjoy; Truth never was indebted to a lie.

And nought, but what thou giv'st thyself, is sure. Is nought but virtue to be prais’d as good ? Reason perpetuates joy that reason gives, Why then is health preferr'd before disease ? And makes it as immortal as herself: What nature loves is good, without our leave; To mortals, nought immortal but their worth. And where no future drawback cries,“ Bewarc," Plea!ure, tho' not from virtue, should prevail.

$ 128. Worth. YOUNG. 'Tis balm to life, and gratitude to Heaven; How cold our thanks for bounties unenjoy'd ! WORTH, conscious worth! should absolutely The love of pleasure is man's eldest-born,

reign; Born in his cradle, living to his tomb;

And other joys ask leave for their approach ; Wisdom her younger sister, tho' more grave,

Nor, unexamin'd, ever leave obtain. Was meant to minister, and not to mar,

Thou art all anarchy; a mob of joys Imperial pleasure, queen of human hearts. Wage war, and perilh in intestine broils;

Not the least promise of eternal peace!

No bosom-comfort ! or unborrow'd bliss ! § 125. Piety. Young.

Thy thoughts are vagabonds; alloutward-bound, ON Picty humanity is built ;

Mid sands, and rocks, and storms, to cruize for And on humanity much happiness;


[gain'd. And yet still more on piety itself.

If gain'd, dear bought ; and better mils?d than A soul in commerce with her God is heaven; Much pain muftexpiate what much pain procur'd. Feels not the tumults and the shocks of life, Fancy and sense, from an infected fhore, The whirls of paffions, and the strokes of heart. Thy cargo bring; and pestilence the prize. A Deity believ'd, is joy begun;

Then, such thy thirft (insatiable thirst! A Deity ador’d, is joy advanc'd;

By fond indulgence but infiam'd the more !) A Deity belov'd, is joy matur’d.

Fancy fill cruizes when poor sense :s tir'd. Each branch of piety delight inspires; Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next,

Pieture of a good Man. YOUNG. O'er death's dark gulph, and all its horror hides; Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy, SOME angel guide

my pencil, while I draw, That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter ftill; What nothing less than angel can exceed; Pray'r ardent opens heav’n, lets down a stream A man on earth devoted to the skies, Of glory on the consecrated hour

Like Thips at fea, while in, above the world. Of man in audience with the Deity.

With aspect mild, and elevated eye, Who worships the Great God, that instant joins Behold him feated on a mount ferenc, The first in heav'n, and sets his foot on hell. Above the fogs of sense, and pallion's storm;

All the black cares and tumults of this life, $ 126. Earthly Happiness. YOUNG.

Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet,

Excite his pity, not impair his peace. No man is happy, till he thinks, on carth Earth's genuine fons, the sceptred, and the slave,

There breathes not a more happythan himself: A mingled mob! a wand'ring herd! hc fces, Then envy dies, and love o'erflows on all; Bewilder'd in the vale ; in all unlike! And love o'erflowing makes an angel here. His full reverse in all! What higher praise? Such angels, all, intitled to repose

What stronger demonftration of the right? On Hiin who governs fate : Tho' tempest frowns, The prefent all their care; the future his. Tho' nature thakes, how soft to lean on Heav'n! When public welfare calls, or private want, To lean on Him, on whom archangels lean ! They give to fame ; his bounty he conceals, With inward eyes, and filent as the grave, Their virtues varnith nature ; his exalt. They stand collecting every beam of thought, Mankind's eftecin they court; and he, his own. Till thcir hearts kindlu with divine delight; Theirs, the wild chace of false felicities;

$ 129.

His, the compos'd poffeffion of the true. But open force was vain; by night she went, Alike throughout is his consistent piece, And, while he flept, furpriz'd the darling rent : All of one colour, and an even thread ;

Where yawn'd the frieze is now become a doubt; While party-colour'd Ihreds of happiness, “And glory, at one entrance, quite shut out*.** With hideous gaps between, patch up for them He scorns Florello, and Florello him; A madınan's robe ; each puff of fortune blows This hates the filthy creature; that, the prim: The tatters by, and 'Theis their nakednels. Thus, in each other, both these fools despise

He fees with other eyes than theirs :- Where Their own dear felves, with undiscerning eyes; Behold a sun, he spies a Deity; [thcy Their methods various, but alike their aim; What makes them only smile, makes him adore; The lloven and the fopling are the same. Where they see mountains, he but atoms fees; An empire in his balance weighs a grain. They things terrestrial worship, as divine :

§ 132. Refle&tion on Death. YouxG. His hopes inmortal blow them by, as dust

WH That dims his right, and Mortens his survey,

Here the prime actors of the last year's scene;

Their port so proud, their buskin, and their Which longs, in Infinite, to lose all bound.

plume? Tirles and honours (if they prove his fate) How many Neep who kept the world awake ? Hic lays alide to find his dignity;

With lustre, and with noise ! has death proclaim'd No dignity they find in aught besides.

A truce, and hung his fated lance on high ! They triumph in externals (which conceal 'Tis brandish'd still; nor shall the present year Man's real glory) proud of an eclipse.

Be more tenacious of her human leaf, Himself too much he prizes to be proud, Or spread of feeble life a thinner fall. And nothing thinks so great in man, as man. But needlefs monuincnts to wake the thought; Too dear he holds his int'reft, to neglect Life's gayest scenes speak man's mortality; Another's welfare, or his right invade ;

Though in a style more forid, full as plain, Their int'rest, like a lion, lives on prey. As mausoleums, pyramids, and tombs. They kindle at the shadow of a wrong; What are our noblest ornaments, but deaths Wrong he fuftains with temper, looks on heaven, Turn'd flatterers of life, in paint or marble, Nor stoops to think his injurer his foe; (peace. The well-stain'd canvas, or the featur'd stone ? Nought but what wounds his virtue wounds his Our fathers grace, or rather haunt the scene. A cover'd heart their character defends ; Joy peoples her pavilion from the dead. A.cover'd heart denies him half his praise. « Profest diversions ! cannot these escape?". With nakednels his innocence agrees !

Far from it : These present us with a shroud, While their broad foilage testifies their fall! And talk of death, like garlands o'er a grave. Their no-joys end where his full feast begins : As some bold plunderers for bury'd wealth, His joys create, theirs murder, future blits. We ransack tombs for pastime: from the dust To triumph in exiftence, his alone :

Call up the neeping hero ; bid him tread And his alone, triumphantly to think

The scene for our amusement: How like gods His true existence is not yet begun.

We sit; and, wrapt in immortality, His glorious course was yesterday complete ; Shed gen'rous tears on wretches born to die ; Death, then, -as welcome; yet life still is sweet. Their fate deploring, to forget our own!

What all the pomps and triumphs of our lives $ 130. Night. Young.

Bur legacies in blossom? Our Ican foil

Luxuriant grown, and rank in vanities,
O majestic Night!

From friends interr'd beneath; a rich manure ! Nature's great ancestor! day's elder-born!

Like other worms, we banquet on the dead; And fated to furvive the transient sun!

Like other worms Thall we crawl on, nor know By mortals and immortals feen with awe!

Our present frailties, or approaching fate ! A starry crown thy raven brow adorns, Anazure zonethy waist; clouds, in heav'n's loom What is the world itself? Thy world-A grave.

Lorenzo, such the glories of the world! Wrought through varieties of shape and fhade, Where is the dust that has not been alive? In ample folds of drapery divine, Thy flowing mantle form; and, heav’n through From human mould we reap our daily bread.

(out, The spade, the plough, disturb our ancestors ; Voluminously pour thy pompous train. The globe around earth's hollow surface shakes,

And is the ceiling of her sleeping fons. $ 131. The Contrast. Young.

O'er devastation we blind revels keep; MOROSE is funk with shame, whene'er fur: Whole bury'd towns support the dancer's hcel.

In linen clean, or peruke undisguis'd. (priz'd
No sublunary chance his vestments fear;
Valu’d, like leopards, as their spots appear.

$ 133. Solitude. YOUNG. A fam'd furtout he wears, which once was blue,

SACRED Solitude ! divine retreat ! And his foot fwims in a capacious thoe :

Choice of the Prudent! envy of the Great! One day his wife (for whu can wives reclaim :) By thy pure stream, or in thy waving fhade, Levell'd her barb'rous needle at his fame : We court fair wisdom, that celcitial maid :

The Milton.

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