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Secure his little kingdom. Nor can those
Whom fortune heaps, without these virtues, reach
That truce with pain, that animated case,
That self-enjoyment springing from within;
That Independence, active, or retir’d,
Which make the soundest bliss of man below:
But, lost beneath the rubbish of their means,
And drain’d by wants to nature all unknown,
A wandering, tasteless, gaily wretched train,
Though rich, are beggars, and though noble, slaves.
“ Lo! damn'd to wealth, at what a gross ex-
pense
They purchase disappointment, pain, and shame,
Instead of hearty hospitable cheer.
See how the hall with brutal riot flows;
While in the foaming flood, fermenting, steep'd,
The country maddens into party-rage.
Mark those disgraceful piles of wood and stone;
Those parks and gardens, where, his haunts be-
trimm’d,
And Nature by presumptuous art oppress'd,
The woodland genius mourns. See the full board
That streams disgust, and bowls that give no joy:
No truth invited there, to feed the mind;
Nor wit, the wine rejoicing reason quaffs.
Hark! how the dome with insolence resounds,
With those retain'd by vanity to scare
Repose and friends. To tyrant fashion mark
The costly worship paid, to the broad gaze
Of fools. From still delusive day to day,
Led an eternal round of lying hope,
See self-abandon'd, how they roam adrift,
Dash'd o'er the town, a miserable wreck'
Then to adorn some warbling eunuch turn'd,
With Midas' ears they crowd; or to the buzz
Of masquerade unblushing ; or, to show
Their scorn of Nature, at the tragic scene
They mirthful sit, or prove the comic true.
But, chief, behold ! around the rattling board,
The civil robbers rang'd; and ev'n the fair,
The tender fair, each sweetness laid aside,
As fierce for plunder as all-licens'd troops
In some sack'd city. Thus dissolv'd their wealth,
Without one generous luxury dissolv’d,
Or quarter'd on it many a needless want,
At the throng'd levee bends the venal tribe:
With fair but faithless smiles each varnish'd o'er,
Each smooth as those that mutually deceive,
And for their falsehood each despising each;
Till shook their patron by the wintery winds,
Wide flies the wither'd shower, and leaves him bare.
O, far superior Afric's sable sons,
By merchant pilfer'd, to these willing slaves |
And, rich, as unsqueez’d favourite, to them,
Is he who can his virtue boast alonel
“ Britons ! be firm —nor let corruption sly
Twine round your heart indissoluble chains :
The steel of Brutus burst the grosser bonds
By Caesar cast o'er Rome; but still remain'd
The soft enchanting fetters of the mind,
And other Caesars rose. Determin'd, hold
Your independence : for, that once destroy'd,
Unfounded, freedom is a morning dream,
That flits aerial from the spreading eye.
“Forbid it, Heaven! that ever I need urge
Integrity in office on my sons!
Inculcate common honour — not to rob —
And whom? — The gracious, the confiding hand,
That lavishly rewards; the toiling poor,
Whose cup with many a bitter drop is mixt;

The gunrdian public; every face they see,
And every friend; nay, in effect, themselves.
As in familiar life, the villain's fate
Admits no cure; so, when a desperate age
At this arrives, I the devoted race
Indignant spurn, and hopeless soar away.
“But, ah, too little known to modern times!
Be not the noblest passion past unsung ;
That ray peculiar from unbounded love
Effus'd, which kindles the heroic soul :
Devotion to the public. Glorious flame!
Celestial ardour ! in what unknown worlds,
Profusely scatter'd through the blue immense,
Hast thou been blessing myriads, since in Rome,
Old virtuous Rome, so many deathless names
From thee their lustre drew 2 since, taught by thee,
Their poverty put splendour to the blush,
Pain grew luxurious, and ev'n death delight?
O, wilt thou ne'er, in thy long period, look,
With blaze direct, on this my last retreat?
“'Tis not enough, from self right understood
Reflected, that thy rays inflame the heart:
Though Virtue not disdains appeals to self,
Dreads not the trial : all her joys are true,
Nor is there any real joy save hers.
Far less the tepid, the declaiming race,
Foes to corruption, to its wages friends,
Or those whom private passions for awhile,
Beneath my standard list, can they suffice
To raise and fix the glory of my reign 2
“An active flood of universal love
Must swell the breast. First, in effusion wide,
The restless spirit roves creation round,
And seizes every being : stronger then
It tends to life, whate'er the kindred search
Of bliss allies: then, more collected still,
It urges human-kind : a passion grown,
At last, the central parent-public calls
Its utmost effort forth, awakes each sense,
The comely, grand, and tender. Without this,
This aweful pant, shook from sublimer powers
Than those of self, this heaven-infus’d delight,
This moral gravitation, rushing prone
To press the public good, my system soon,
Traverse, to several selfish centres drawn,
Will reel to ruin : while for ever shut
Stand the bright portals of desponding Fame.
“From sordid self shoot up no shining deeds,
None of those ancient lights, that gladden Earth,
Give grace to being, and arouse the brave
To just ambition, virtue's quickening fire!
Life tedious grows, an idly-bustling round,
Fill'd up with actions animal and mean,
A dull gazette Th’ impatient reader scorns
The poor historic page; till kindly comes
Oblivion, and redeems a people's shame.
Not so the times, when emulation-stung,
Greece shone in genius, science, and in arts,
And Rome in virtues dreadful to be told
To live was glory then and charm'd mankind
Through the deep periods of devolving time,
Those, raptur'd, copy these, astonish'd, read.
“True, a corrupted state, with every vice
And every meanness foul, this passion damps-
Who can, unshock'd, behold the cruel eye?
The pale inveigling smile? the ruffian front?
The wretch abandon'd to relentless self,
Equally vile if miser or profuse?
Powers not of God, assiduous to corrupt?
The fell deputed tyrant, who devours

The poor and weak, at distance from redress 2" Delirious faction bellowing loud my name? The false fair-seeming patriot's hollow boast? A race resolv'd on bondage, fierce for chains, My sacred rights a merchandise alone Esteeming, and to work their feeder's will By deeds, a horrour to mankind, prepar’d, As were the dregs of Romulus of old 2 Who these indeed can undetesting see 1 — But who unpitying? To the generous eye Distress is virtue! and, though self-betray'd, A people struggling with their fate must rouse The hero's throb. Nor can a land, at once, Be lost to virtue quite. How glorious then Fit luxury for gods ! to save the good, Protect the feeble, dash bold vice aside, Depress the wicked, and restore the frail. Posterity, besides, the young are pure, And sons may tinge their father's cheek with shame. “Should then the times arrive (which Heaven avert!) That Britons bend unnerv'd, not by the force Of arms, more generous, and more manly, quell'd, But by corruption's soul-dejecting arts, Arts impudents and gross! by their own gold, In part bestow'd, to bribe them to give all. With party raging, or immers'd in sloth, Should they Britannia's well-fought laurels yield To slily-conquering Gaul; ev'n from her brow Lether own naval oak be basely torn, By such as tremble at the stiffening gale, And nerveless sink while others sing rejoic’d. 9 (darker prospect scarce one gleam behind Podosing) should the broad corruptive plague Breathe from the city to the farthest hut, That sits serene within the forest shade; The fever'd people fire, inflame their wants, And their luxurious thirst, so gathering rage, That were a buyer found, they stand prepar'd To sell their birthright for a cooling draught. sould shameless pens for plain corruption plead; The hird assassins of the commonweal! *m'd the declaiming rant of Greece and Rome, $ould public virtue grow the public scoff, Till private, failing, staggers through the land: | round the city loose mechanic want, Dre-prowling nightly, makes the cheerful haunts of men more hideous than Numidian wilds, Not from its fury sleeps the vale in peace; And murders, horrours, perjuries abound: Nay, till to lowest deeds the highest stoop; *ich, like starving wretches, thirst for gold; * those, on whom the vernal showers of Heaven *bounteous fall, and that prime lot bestow, * Power to live to Nature and themselves, In sick attendance wear their anxious days, o fortune, joyless, and with honours, mean. Meantime, perhaps, profusion flows around, pe waste of war, without the works of peace; * mark of millions, in the gulph absorpt ouncreating vice, none but the rage "rous’d corruption still demanding more. * very portion, which (by faithful skill

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Employ'd) might make the smiling public rear
Her ornamented head, drill'd through the hands
Of mercenary tools, serves but to nurse
A locust band within, and in the bud
Leaves starv'd each work of dignity and use.
“I paint the worst. But should these times
arrive,
If any nobler passion yet remain,
Let all my sons all parties fling aside,
Despise their nonsense, and together join ;
Let worth and virtue, scorning low despair,
Exerted full, from every quiver shine,
Commix’d in heighten’d blaze. Light flash'd to
light,
Moral, or intellectual, more intense
By giving glows. As on pure Winter's eve,
Gradual, the stars effulge; fainter, at first,
They, straggling, rise; but when the radiant host,
In thick profusion pour'd, shine out immense,
Each casting vivid influence on each,
From pole to pole a glittering deluge plays,
And worlds above rejoice, and men below.
“But why to Britons this superfluous strain 2–
Good-nature, honest truth ev'n somewhat blunt,
Of crooked baseness an indignant scorm,
A zeal unyielding in their country's cause,
And ready bounty, wont to dwell with them –
Nor only wont – Wide o'er the land diffus'd,
In many a blest retirement still they dwell.
“To softer prospect turn we now the view,
To laurel'd science, arts, and public works,
That lend my finish’d fabric comely pride,
Grandeur, and grace. Of sullen genius he
Curs'd by the Muses! by the Graces loath'd
Who deems beneath the public's high regard
These last enlivening touches of my reign.
However puff d with power, and gorg'd with wealth,
A nation be ; let trade enormous rise,
Let East and South their mingled treasure pour,
Till, swell'd impetuous, the corrupting flood
Burst o'er the city, and devour the land:
Yet these neglected, these recording arts,
Wealth rots, a nuisance; and, oblivious sunk,
That nation must another Carthage lie.
If not by them, on monumental brass,
On sculptur'd marble, on the deathless page,
Imprest, renown had left no trace behind:
In vain, to future times, the sage had thought,
The legislator plann'd, the hero found
A beauteous death, the patriot toil'd in vain.
Th' awarders they of Fame's immortal wreath,
They rouse ambition, they the mind exalt,
Give great ideas, lovely forms infuse,
Delight the general eye, and, drest by them,
The moral Venus glows with double charms,
“Science, my close associate, still attends
Where’er I go. Sometimes, in simple guise,
She walks the furrow with the consul swain,
Whispering unletter'd wisdom to the heart,
Direct; or, sometimes, in the pompous robe
Of fancy drest, she charms Athenian wits,
And a whole sapient city round her burns.
Then o'er her brow Minerva's terrours nod;
With Xenophon, sometimes, in dire extremes
She breathes deliberate soul, and makes retreatf
Unequall'd glory; with the Theban sage,
Epaminondas, first and best of men

+ The famous retreat of the Ten Thousand was chiefly conducted by Xenophon.

The flood-compelling arch; the long canal", Through mountains piercing, and uniting seas; The dome resounding sweet with infant joy +, From famine sav'd, or cruel-handed shame, And that where valour counts his noble scars; The land where social pleasure loves to dwell, | Of the fierce demon, Gothic duel, freed; | The robber from his farthest forest chas'd; o The turbid city clear'd, and, by degrees, Into sure peace the best police refin'd, Magnificence, and grace, and decent joy. Let Gallic bards record, how honour'd arts, And science, by despotic bounty bless'd, At distance flourish'd from my parent-eye, Restoring ancient taste, how Boileau rose, | How the big Roman soul shook, in Corneille, | The trembling stage. In elegant Racine, How the more powerful, though more humble voice Of nature-painting Greece, resistless, breath'd The whole awaken'd heart. How Moliere's scene

Sometimes she bids the deep-embattled host,
Above the vulgar reach, resistless form'd,
March to sure conquest — never gain'd before 1*
Nor on the treacherous seas of giddy state
Unskilful she when the triumphant tide
Of high-swoln empire wears one boundless smile,
And the gale tempts to new pursuits of fame,
Sometimes, with Scipio, she collects her sail,
And seeks the blissful shore of rural ease,
Where, but th' Aonian maids, no syrens sing ;
Or should the deep-brew'd tempest muttering rise,
While rocks and shoals perfidious lurk around,
|

With Tully she her wide reviving light
To senates holds, a Catiline confounds,
And saves awhile from Caesar sinking Rome.
Such the kind power, whose piercing eye dissolves
Each mental fetter, and sets reason free ;
For me inspiring an enlighten’d zeal,
The more tenacious as the more convinc'd

How happy freemen, and how wretched slaves.
To Britons not unknown, to Britons full
The goddess spreads her stores, the secret soul
That quickens trade, the breath unseen that wafts
To them the treasures of a balanc'd world.
But finer arts (save what the Muse has sung
In daring flight, above all modern wing)
Neglected droop the head; and public works,
Broke by corruption into private gain,
Not ornament, disgrace; not serve, destroy.
“Shall Britons, by their own joint wisdom rul’d
Beneath one royal head, whose vital power
Connects, enlivens, and exerts the whole;
In finer arts, and public works, shall they
To Gallia yield 2 yield to a land that bends,
I)eprest, and broke, beneath the will of one 2
Of one who, should th' unkingly thirst of gold,
Of tyrant passions, or ambition, prompt,
Calls locust armies o'er the blasted land:
Drains from its thirsty bounds the springs of wealth,
His own insatiate reservoir to fill :
To the lone desert patriot merit frowns,
Or into dungeons arts, when they, their chains,
Indignant, bursting, for their nobler works
All other licence scorn but Truth's and mine.
Oh, shame to think shall Britons, in the field
Unconquer'd still, the better laurel lose ?
Ev’n in that monarch's t reign, who vainly dreamt,
By giddy power, betray'd, and flatter'd pride,
To grasp unbounded sway; while, swarming round,
His armies dar'd all Europe to the field;
To hostile hands while treasure flow'd profuse,
And, that great source of treasure, subjects' blood,
Inhuman squander'd, sicken'd every land;
From Britain, chief, while my superior sons,
In vengeance rushing, dash'd his idle hopes,
And bade his agonizing heart be low :
Ev’n then, as in the golden calm of peace!
What public works at home ! what arts arose !
What various science shone what genius glow'd
“'Tis not for me to paint, diffusive shot
O'er fair extents of land, the shining road;

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Chastis'd and regular, with well-judg’d wit,
Not scatter'd wild, and native humour, grac'd,
Was life itself. To public honours rais'd,
How learning in warm seminaries spread #;
And, more for glory than the small reward,
How emulation strove. How their pure tongue
Almost obtain'd what was deny'd their arms.
From Rome, awhile, how Painting, courted long,
With Poussin came : ancient design, that lifts
A fairer front, and looks another soul.
How the kind art S, that, of unvalued price,
The fam'd and only picture, easy, gives,
Refin'd her touch, and, through the shadow’d piece,
All the live spirit of the painter pour'd.
Coyest of arts, how Sculpture northward deign'd
A look, and bade her Girardon arise.
How lavish grandeur blaz'd; the barren waste,
Astonish'd, saw the sudden palace swell,
And fountains spout amid its arid shades.
For leagues, bright vistas opening to the view,
How forests in majestic gardens smil’d.
How menial arts, by their gay sisters taught,
Wove the deep flow'r, the blooming foliage train'd
In joyous figures o'er the silky lawn,
The palace cheer'd, illum'd the story'd wall,
And with the pencil vy'd the glowing loom.
“These laurels, Louis, by the droppings rais'd
Of thy profusion, its dishonour'd shade, [brow;
And, green through future times, shall bind thy
While the vain honours of perfidious war
Wither abhorr'd, or in oblivion lost.
With what prevailing vigour had they shot,
And stole a deeper root, by the full tide
Of war-sunk millions fed? Superior still,
How had they branch'd luxuriant to the skies,
In Britain planted, by the potent juice
Of freedom swell'd? Forc'd is the bloom of arts,
A false uncertain spring, when bounty gives,
Weak without me, a transitory gleam.
Fair shine the slippery days, enticing skies
Of favour smile, and courtly breezes blow ;
Till arts, betray'd, trust to the flattering air
Their tender blossom ; then malignant rise

* The canal of Languedoc,

+ The hospitals for foundlings and invalids.

: The academies of Science, of the Belles Letires. and of Painting.

§ Engraving.

| The tapestry of the Gobelins.

The blights of envy, of those insect-clouds, That, blasting merit, often cover courts: Nay, should, perchance, some kind Maecenas aid The doubtful beamings of his prince's soul, His wavering ardour fix, and unconfin'd Diffuse his warm beneficence around; Yet death, at last, and wintery tyrants come, Each sprig of genius killing at the root. But when with me imperial bounty joins, Wide o'er the public blows eternal Spring: While mingled Autumn every harvest pours Of every land; whate'er invention, art, Creating toil and Nature can produce.” Here ceas'd the goddess; and her ardent wings, Dipt in the colours of the heavenly bow, Stood waving radiance round, for sudden flight Prepar'd, when thus, impatient, burst my prayer. “Oh, forming light of life! O, better Sun! Sun of mankind' by whom the cloudy north, Sublim’d, not envies Languedocian skies, That, unstain'd ether all, diffusive smile : When shall we call these ancient laurels ours? And when thy work complete?” Straight with her hand, Celestial red, she touch'd my darken'd eyes. As at the touch of day the shades dissolve, So quick, methought, the misty circle clear'd, That dims the dawn of being here below: The future shone disclos'd, and, in long view, Bright rising eras instant rush'd to light. [hold ! “They come! great Goddess! I the times beThe times our fathers, in the bloody field, Have earn'd so dear, and, not with less renown, In the warm struggles of the Senate fight. The times I see! whose glory to supply, For toiling ages, commerce round the world Has wing’d unnumber'd sails, and from each land Materials heap'd, that, well-employ'd, with Rome Might vie our grandeur, and with Greece our art. “Lo! princes I behold ! contriving still, And still conducting firm some brave design; Kings! that the narrow joyless circle scorn, Burst the blockade of false designing men, Of treacherous smiles, of adulation fell, And of the blinding clouds around them thrown: Their court rejoicing millions; worth alone, And virtue dear to them; their best delight, In just proportion, to give general joy: Their jealous care thy kingdom to maintain; The public glory theirs; unsparing love Their endless treasure; and their deeds their praise. With thee they work. Nought can resist your force: Life feels it quickening in her dark retreats; Strong spread the blooms of genius, science, art; His bashful bounds disclosing merit breaks; And, big with fruits of glory, virtue blows Expansive o'er the land. Another race Of generous youth, of patriot-sires, I see : Not those vain insects fluttering in the blaze Of court, and ball, and play; those venal souls, Corruption's veteran unrelenting bands, That, to their vices slaves, can ne'er be free. * I see the fountain's purg'd; whence life derives A clear or turbid flow; see the young mind Not fed impure by chance, by flattery fool'd. Or by scholastic jargon bloated proud, But fill'd and nourish’d by the light of truth. Then, beam'd through fancy the refining ray, And pouring on the heart, the passions feel At once informing light and moving flame;

Till moral, public, graceful action crowns The whole. Behold ! the fair contention glows, In all that mind or body can adorn, And form to life. Instead of barren heads, Barbarian pedants, wrangling sons of pride, And truth-perplexing metaphysic wits, Men, patriots, chiefs, and citizens are form'd. “Lo! Justice, like the liberal light of Heaven, Unpurchas'd shines on all, and from her beam, Appalling guilt, retire the savage crew, That prowl amid the darkness they themselves Have thrown around the laws. Oppression grieves: See how her legal furies bite the lip, While Yorks and Talbots their deep snares detect, And seize swift justice through the clouds they raise. “See! social Labour lifts his guarded head, And men not yield to government in vain. From the sure land is rooted ruffian force, And, the lewd nurse of villains, idle waste; [bowl, Lo! raz'd their haunts, down dash'd their maddening A nation's poison beauteous order reigns! Manly submission, unimposing toil, Trade without guile, civility that marks From the foul herd of brutal slaves thy sons, And fearless peace. Or should affironting war To slow but dreadful vengeance rouse the just, Unfailing fields of freemen I behold! That know, with their own proper arm, to guard Their own blest isle against a leaguing world. Despairing Gaul her boiling youth restrains, Dissolv'd her dream of universal sway: The winds and seas are Britain's wide domain; And not a sail, but by permission, spreads. “Lo! swarming southward on rejoicing sons, Gay colonies extend; the calm retreat Of undeserv'd distress, the better home Of those whom bigots chase from foreign lands, Not built on rapine, servitude, and woe, And in their turn some petty tyrant's prey; But, bound by social freedom, firm they rise; Such as, of late, an Oglethorpe has form'd, And, crowding round, the charm'd Savannah sees. “Horrid with want and misery, no more Our streets the tender passenger afflict. Nor shivering age, nor sickness without friend, Or home, or bed to bear his burning load, Nor agonizing infant, that ne'er earn'd Its guiltless pangs, I see . The stores, profuse, Which British bounty has to these assign'd, No more the sacrilegious riot swell Of cannibal devourers! Right apply'd, No starving wretch the land of freedom stains: If poor, employment finds; if old, demands; If sick, if maim'd, his miserable due; And will, if young, repay the fondest care. Sweet sets the sun of stormy life, and sweet The morning shines, in mercy's dews array'd. Lo! how they rise ! these families of Heaven! That!" chief, (but why—ye bigots!—why so late?) Where blooms and warbles glad a rising age: What smiles of praise ! and while their song ascends, The listening seraph lays his lute aside. “Hark! the gay Muses raise a nobler strain, With active nature, warm impassion'd truth, Engaging fable, lucid order, notes Of various string, and heart-felt image fill’d. Behold I see the dread delightful school Of temper'd passions, and of polish'd life,

• An hospital for foundlings. K k

Restor'd : behold ! the well-dissembled scene
Calls from embellish'd eyes the lovely tear,
Or lights up mirth in modest cheeks again.
Lo! vanish'd monster-land... Lo! driven away
Those that Apollo's sacred walls profane:
Their wild creation scatter'd, where a world
Unknown to Nature, chaos more confus'd,
O'er the brute scene its ouran-outangs • pours;
Detested forms! that, on the mind imprest,
Corrupt, confound, and barbarize an age.
“Behold all thine again the sister-arts,
Thy graces they, knit in harmonious dance.
Nurs'd by the treasure from a nation drain'd
Their works to purchase, they to nobler rouse
Their untam'd genius, their unfetter'd thought;
Of pompous tyrants, and of dreaming monks,
The gaudy tools, and prisoners, no more.
“Lo numerous domes a Burlington confess:
For kings and senates fit, the palace see!
The temple breathing a religious awe;
Ev’n fram'd with elegance the plain retreat,
The private dwelling. Certain in his aim,
Taste, never idly working, saves expence.
“See! Sylvan scenes, where Art, alone, pretends
To dress her mistress, and disclose her charms:
Such as a Pope in miniature has shown;
A Bathurst o'er the widening forestfspreads;
And such as form a Richmond, Chiswick, Stowe.
“August, around, what public works I see!
Lo! stately streets, lo! squares that court the
breeze,
In spite of those to whom pertains the care,
Ingulphing more than founded Roman ways.
Lo! ray'd from cities o'er the brighten’d land,
Connecting sea to sea, the solid road.
Lo! the proud arch (no vile exactor's stand)
With easy sweep bestrides the chafing flood.
See long canals, and deepen'd rivers, join
Each part with each, and with the circling main
The whole enliven'd isle. Lo! ports expand,
Free as the winds and waves, their sheltering arms.
Lo! streaming comfort o'er the troubled deep,
On every pointed coast the light-house towers;
And, by the broad imperious mole repell'd,
Hark! how the baffled storm indignant roars.”
As thick to view these varied wonders rose,
Shook all my soul with transport, unassur’d,
The vision broke; and, on my waking eye,
Rush'd the still ruins of dejected Rome.

ODE.

Tell me, thou soul of her I love,
Ah! tell me, whither art thou fled;

To what delightful world above,
Appointed for the happy dead?

Ordost thou, free, at pleasure, roam, And sometimes share thy lover's woe;

Where, void of thee, his cheerless home Can now, alas! no comfort know?

* A creature which, of all brutes, most resembles man. — See Dr. Tyson's treatise on this animal.

* Okely woods, near Cirencester.

Oh! if thou hover'st round my walk,
While under every well-known tree,

I to thy fancy'd shadow talk,
And every tear is full of thee;

Should then the weary eye of grief,
Beside some sympathetic stream,

In slumber find a short relief,
O visit thou my soothing dream :

THE HAPPY MAN.

Hz's not the Happy Man, to whom is given
A plenteous fortune by indulgent Heaven;
Whose gilded roofs on shining columns rise,
And painted walls enchant the gazer's eyes;
Whose table flows with hospitable cheer,
And all the various bounty of the year; [Spring,
Whose valleys smile, whose gardens breathe the
Whose carved mountains bleat, and forests sing;
For whom the cooling shade in Summer twines,
While his full cellars give their generous wines;
From whose wide fields unbounded Autumn pours
A golden tide into his swelling stores:
Whose Winter laughs; for whom the liberal gales
Stretch the big sheet, and toiling commerce sails;
When yielding crowds attend, and pleasure serves;
While youth, and health, and vigour string his
nerves.
Ev’n not all these, in one rich lot combin'd,
Can make the Happy Man, without the mind;
Where Judgment sits clear-sighted, and surveys
The chain of Reason with unerring gaze;
Where Fancy lives, and to the brightening eyes,
His fairer scenes, and bolder figures rise;
Where social Love exerts her soft command,
And plays the passions with a tender hand,
Whence every virtue flows, in rival strife,
And all the moral harmony of life.

SONG.

HARn is the fate of him who loves,
Yet dares not tell his trembling pain,

But to the sympathetic groves,
But to the lonely listening plain.

Oh! when she blesses next your shade,
Oh! when her footsteps next are seen

In flowery tracts along the mead,
In fresher mazes o'er the green,

Ye gentle spirits of the vale,
To whom the tears of love are dear,

From dying lillies waft a gale,
And sigh my sorrows in her ear.

O, tell her what she cannot blame,
Though fear my tongue must ever bind;

O, tell her that my virtuous flame
Is as her spotless soul refin'd.

Nother own guardian angel eyes
With chaster tenderness his care,

Not purer her own wishes rise,
Notholier her own sighs in prayer.

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