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|Yoetical (Ulorkg of Cowper,


ORTUNE! I thank thee: gentle Goddess, thanks! F Not that my Muse, tho' 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-raking pains of emptiness, Nor noontide feast, nor ev'ning's cool repast, Hopes she from this—presumptuous, tho', perhaps, The cobbler, leather-carving artist I might. Nathless she thanks thee, and accepts thy boon, Whatever; not as erst the fabled cock, Wainglorious fool! unknowing what he found, Spurn'd the rich gem thougav'st him. Wherefore, ah! Why not on me that favour (worthier sure 1) Conferrist thou, Goddess I 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 l—even here, Hints, worthy sage philosophy, are found; Illustrious hints, to moralise 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?), or 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 Headlong he falls; and thro' the rest of life, Drags the dull load of disappointment on.

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AY, ye apostate and profane,
S Wretches who blush not to disdain
Allegiance to your God,
Did e'er your idly-wasted love
Of virtue for her sake remove,
And lift you from the crowd

Would you the race of glory run,
Know, the devout, and they alone,
Are equal to the task:
The labours of the illustrious course
Far other than the unaided force
Of human vigour ask,

To arm against repeated ill
The patient heart, too brave to feel
he tortures of despair;
Nor safer yet high-crested Pride,
When wealth flows in with every tide
To gain admittance there.

To rescue from the tyrant's sword
The oppressed;—unseen and unimplored,
To cheer the face of woe ;
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,
Oh, with what matchless speed they leave
The multitude behind |

Then ask ye, from what cause on earth
Wirtues like these derive their birth
Derived from Heaven alone,
Full on that favoured 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,
Her feebler spirits faint;
She cannot reach, and would not wrong,
That subject for an angel's song,
The hero, and the saint l



ND dwells there in a female heart,
By bounteous Heav'n design'd
The choicest raptures to impart,
To feel the most refined—

Dwells there a wish in such a breast
Its nature to forego,

To smother in ignoble rest
At once both bliss and woe l

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