And thou a wretch, whom, foll'wing her old plan,
The World accounts an honourable man,

Because forsooth thy courage has been tried 739
And stood the test, perhaps on the wrong side;
Though thou hadst never grace enough to prove,
That any thing but vice could win thy love;-
Or hast thou a polite, card-playing wife,
Chain'd to the routs that she frequents for life;
Who, just when industry begins to snore,

Flies, wing'd with joy, to some coach crowded door;
And thrice in ev'ry winter throngs thine own
With half the chariots and sedans in town,

Thyself meanwhile e'en shifting as thou mayst;
Not very sober though, nor very chaste;-
Or is thine house, though less superb thy rank,
If not a scene of pleasure, a mere blank,
And thou at best, and in thy sob'rest mood,
A trifler vain, and empty of all good;

Though mercy for thyself thou canst have none,
Hear Nature plead, show mercy to thy son.

750

Sav'd from his home, where ev'ry day brings forth

Some mischief fatal to his future worth,

Find him a better in a distant spot,

Within some pious pastor's humble cot,
Where vile example (yours I chiefly mean,
The most seducing, and the oft'nest seen)
May never more be stamp'd upon his breast,
Not yet perhaps incurably impress'd.

Where early rest makes early rising sure,

Disease or comes not, or finds easy cure,

Prevented much by diet neat and plain;
Or, if it enter, soon starv'd out again:

Where all th' attention of his faithful host,

Discreetly limited to two at most,

May raise such fruits, as shall reward his care,

And not at last evaporate in air:

Where, stillness aiding study, and his mind

Serene, and to his duties much inclin'd,

Not occupied in day-dreams, as at home,
Of pleasures past, or follies yet to come,

760

770

His virtuous toil may terminate at last

In settled habit and decided taste.

But whom do I advise? the fashion-led,
Th' incorrigibly wrong, the deaf, the dead,
Whom care and cool deliberation suit

780

Not better much than spectacles a brute;
Who, if their sons some slight tuition share,
Deem it of no great moment whose, or where;
Too proud t' adopt the thoughts of one unknown,
And much too gay t' have any of their own.

But courage, man! methought the muse replied,
Mankind are various, and the World is wide:

The ostrich, silliest of the feather'd kind,

And form'd of God without a parent's mind, 790
Commits her eggs, incautious, to the dust,
Forgetful that the foot may crush the trust;
And, while on public nurs'ries they rely,
Not knowing, and too oft not caring, why,
Irrational in what they thus prefer,

No few, that would seem wise, resemble her.

But all are not alike. Thy warning voice

May here and there prevent erroneous choice;
And some perhaps, who, busy as they are,
Yet make their progeny their dearest care,
(Whose hearts will ache, once told what ills may

reach

Their offspring, left upon so wild a beach)

Will need no stress of argument t' enforce
Th' expedience of a less advent'rous course:
The rest will slight thy counsel, or condemn;
But they have human feelings-turn to them.

To you then, tenants of life's middle state, Securely plac'd between the small and great, Whose character, yet undebauch'd, retains Two thirds of all the virtue that remains,

800

810

Who, wise yourselves, desire your son should learn

Your wisdom and your ways-to you I turn.
Look round you on a World perversely blind;

See what contempt is fall'n on humankind;

See wealth abus'd, and dignities misplac'd,
Great titles, offices, and trusts disgrac'd,

Long lines of ancestry, renown'd of old,

Their noble qualities all quench'd and cold;
See Bedlam's closetted and hand-cuff'd charge
Surpass'd in frenzy by the mad at large;

See great commanders making war a trade,
Great lawyers, lawyers without study made;
Churchmen, in whose esteem their best em-
ploy

Is odious, and their wages all their joy,

Who, far enough from furnishing their shelves

With Gospel lore, turn infidels themselves;
See womanhood despis'd, and manhood sham'd
With infamy too nauseous to be nam'd,
Fops at all corners, ladylike in mien,

820

Civetted fellows, smelt ere they are seen,

Else coarse and rude in manners, and their

tongue

On fire with curses, and with nonsense hung,

830