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What is fame? an empty bubble;
Gold: a transient, Mining trouble.
Let them for their country bleed,
What was SIDNEY's, RALEIGH’s meed?
Man's not worth a moment's pain,
Base, ungrateful, fickle, vain.
Then let me, fequefter'd fair,
your sibyl grot repair ;
On yon hanging clift it ftands,
Scoop’d by nature's salvage hands,
Bofom'd in the gloomy shade
Of cypress not with age decay’d.
Where the owl still hooting lits,
Where the bat incessant flits,
There in loftier strains I'll fing
Whence the changing seasons fpring,
Tell how fiorms deform the skies,
Whence the wave subside and rise,
Trace the comet's blazing tail,
Weigh the plånets in a fcale;
Bend, great God, before thy shrine,
The bournless macocrosm's thine.
Save me! what's yon throuded shade?
That wanders in the dark-brown glade.
It beckons me!- vain fears adieu,
Mysterious gholt, I follow you.
Ah me! too well that gait I know,
My youth's firti friend, my manhood's woe!
Its breast it bares! what! stain’d with blood ?
Quick let me stanch the vital food.
Oh spirit, whither art thou flown?
Why left me comfortless alone?
O SOLITUDE, on me bestow
The heart-felt harmony of woe,
Such--fuch, as on th’ Ausonian shore,
Sweet Dorian Moschus trill'd of yore:
No time 1hould cancel thy defert,
More-more, than Bion was, thou wert.
O goddess of the tearful eye,
The never-ceasing stream fupply.
Let us with retirement go
To charnels, and the house of woe,
O'er friendship's hearfe low-drooping mourn,
Where the fickly tapers burn,
Where death and nun-clad forrow dwell,
And nightly ring the solemn knell.
The gloom difpels, the charnel (miles,
Light flashes through the vaulted ailles;
Blow lilky soft, thou western gale,
O goddess of the desert, hail!
She bursts from yon cliff-riven cave,
Insulted by the wint'ry wave;
Her brow an ivy-garland binds,
Her tresses wanton in the winds,
A lion's spoils, without a zone,
Around her limbs are careless thrown;
Her right hand wields a knotted mace,
Her eyes roll wild, a stride her pace;
Her left a magic mirror holds,
In which the oft herself beholds.
O goddess of the desert, hail !
And softer blow, thou weftern gale!
Since in each scheme of life I've fail'd,
And disappointment seems entail'd;
Since all on earth I valued most,
My guide, my stay, my friend is lost;
You, only you, can make me blest,
And hush the tempeft in my breaft.
Then gently deign to guide my feet,
To your hermit-trodden feat,
Where I may live at last my own,
Where I at last may die unknown.
I spoke, she turn'd her magic ray,
And thus she faid, or seem'd to lay:
Youth, you're mistaken, if you think to find In shades a med'cine for a troubled mind; Wan grief will haunt you wherefoe'er you go, Sigh in the breeze, and in the streamlei flow,
There pale INACTION pines his life away,
And, fatiate, curses the return of day :
There naked FRENZY, laughing wild with pain,
Or bares the blade, or plunges in the main :
There SUPERSTITION broods o'er all her fears,
And yells of demons in the zephyr hears.
But if a hermit you're resolv'd to dwell,
And bid to social life a laft farewell;
God never made an independent man,
"Twould jarr the concord of his general plan:
See every part of that fiupendous whole,
" Whofe body nature is, and God the soul;"
To one great end, the general good conspire,
From matter, brute, to man, to seraph, fire.
Should man, through nature folitary roam,
His will his sovereign, everywhere his home,
What force wou'd guard him from the lion's jaw!
What swiftness wing him from the panther's paw
Or should fate lead him to some faler Ahore,
Where panthers never prowl, nor lions roar;
Where liberal nature all her charms bestows,
Suns shine, birds fing, flowers bloom and water flows,
Fool, dolt thou think he'd revel on the store,
Absolve the care of heaven, nor alk for more?
Though waters flow'd, flow’rs bloom'd, and Phæbus
He'd figh, he'd murmur, that he was alone.
For know, the Maker on the human breast,
A fenfe of kindred, country, man, imprelt;
And social life to better, aid, adorn,
With proper faculties each mortal's born.
Though nature's works the ruling mind declare,
And well deserve inquiry's serious care,
The God (whate'er misanthropy may say)
Shines, beams in man with moft unclouded ray.
What boots it thee to fly from pole to pole?
Hang o'er the fun, and with the planets roll?
What boots, through space's furtheti bourns to roam?
If thou, O man, a stranger art at home?
Then know thyself, the human mind survey,
The use, the pleasure will the toil repay.
Hence inspiration plans his manner'd lays,
Hence Homer's crown, and Shakspeare hence thy
Hence he, the pride of Athens and the same,
The best and wisest of mankind became.
Nor study only, practise what you know,
Your life, your knowledge, to mankind you owe.
With Plato's olive-wreath the bays entwine:
Those who in ftudy, shou'd in practice shine.
When freedom galp'd beneath a Cæfar's feet,
Then public virtue might to shades retreat;
But where she breathes, the least may useful be,
And freedom, Britain, still belong to thee.
On each condition disappointments wait,
Enter the hut, and force the guarded gate.
Nor dare repine, though early friendship bleed,
From love, the world, and all its cares he's freed.
But know, adversity's the child of God;
Whom heaven approves of most must feel her rod.
When smooth old ocean and each storm's alleep,
Then ignorance may plough the watery deep;
But when the demons of the tempest rave,
Skill must conduct the vessel through the wave.
SIDNEY, what good man envies not thy blow?
Who would not wish ANYTUs for a foe
Intrepid virtue triumphs over fate,
The good can never be unfortunate.
And be this maxim graven in thy mind-
The height of virtue is to serve mankind.
But when old age has filver'd o'er thy head, When memory fails, and all thy vigour's fled, Then may'st thou seek the stillness of retreat, Then hear aloof the human tempeft beat, Then will I greet thee to my woodland cave, Allay the pangs of age, and smooth thy grave,
ADVERSITY. DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge, and torturing hour,
The bad affright, amidst the best !
Bound in thy adamantine chain
The proud are taught to taste of pain,
And purple tyrants vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied, and alone.
When first thy fire to send on earth
Virtue, his darling child, design'd,
To thee he gave the heavenly birth,
And bade to form her infant mind.
Stern rugged nurse; thy rigid lore
With patience many a year the bare:
What forrow was, thou bad’st her know,
And from her own she learn’d to melt at others woe.
Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleasing folly's idle brood,
Wild laughter, noile, and thoughtless joy,
And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer friend, the flattering foe;
By vain prosperity receiv’d,
To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd.
Wisdom, in fable garb array'd,
Immers’d in rapturous thought profound, And MELANCHOLY, filent maid,
With leaden eye, that loves the ground, Still on thy folemn steps attend : Warm CHARITY, the general friend, With JUSTICE, to hertelf severe, And Pity, dropping soft the fadly-pleasing tear, Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head,
Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand ! Not in thy gorgon terrors clad,
Nor circled with the vengeful band