ON FINDING THE HEEL OF A SHOE,
FORTUNE! I thank thee: gentle Goddess! thanks!
Not that my Muse, though bashful, shall deny,
She would have thank'd thee rather, hadst thou cast
A treasure in her way; for neither meed
Of early breakfast, to dispel the fumes,
And bowel-racking pains of emptiness,
Nor noontide feast, nor ev'ning's cool repast,
Hopes she from this—presumptuous, tho', perhaps,
The cobbler, leather-carving artist! might.
Nathless she thanks thee, and accepts thy boon,
Whatever; not as erst the fabled cock,
Vain glorious fool! unknowing what he found,
Spurn'd the rich gem thou gav'st him. Wherefore, ah!
Why not on me that favour, (worthier sure!)
Conferr'd'st thou, Goddess! thou art blind, thou say'st;
Enough!-thy blindness shall excuse the deed.
Nor does my Muse no benefit exhale
From this thy scant indulgence!-even here,
Hints worthy sage philosophy are found;
Illustrious hints, to moralize my song!
This pond'rous heel of perforated hide
Compact, with pegs indented, many a row,
Haply (for such its massy form bespeaks,)
The weighty tread of some rude peasant clown
Upbore: on this supported oft, he stretch'd,
With uncouth strides, along the furrow'd glebe,
Flatt'ning the stubborn clod, till cruel time,
(What will not cruel time,) on a wry step,
Sever'd the strict cohesion; when, alas!
He, who could erst, with even, equal pace,
Pursue his destin'd way with symmetry,
And some proportion form'd, now, on one side,
Curtail'd and maim'd, the sport of vagrant boys,
Cursing his frail supporter, treacherous prop!
With toilsome steps, and difficult, moves on:
Thus fares it oft with other than the feet
Of humble villager-the statesman thus,
Up the steep road, where proud ambition leads,
Aspiring, first uninterrupted winds
His prosp'rous way; nor fears miscarriage foul,
While policy prevails, and friends prove true :
But that support soon failing, by him left,
On whom he most depended, basely left,
Betray'd, deserted; from his airy height
Head-long he falls; and through the rest of life,
Drags the dull load of disappointment on.
SELECTED FROM AN OCCASIONAL ODE ON THE FIRST PUBLICATION OF SIR CHARLES GRANDISON,
To rescue from the tyrant's sword
Th' oppress'd ;-unseen and unimplor'd,
To cheer the face of wo;
From lawless insult to defend
An orphan's right-a fallen friend,
And a forgiven foe;
These, these distinguish from the crowd,.
And these alone, the great and good,
The guardians of mankind;
Whose bosoms with these virtues heave,
O, with what matchless speed, they leave
The multitude behind!
Then ask ye, from what cause on earth.
Virtues like these derive their birth,
Deriv'd from Heaven alone,
Full on that favour'd breast they shine,
Where faith and resignation join
To call the blessing down,
Such is that heart-but while the Muse
Thy theme, O RICHARDSON, pursues,
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