He fcorns Florello, and Florello him; This hates the filthy creature; that, the prim: Thus, in each other, both thefe fools deipife Their own dear felves, with undifcerning eyes: Their methods various, but alike their aim; The floven and the fopling are the fame.

W

$236. Reflection on Death. YoUNG.
Here the prime actors of the laft year's fcene,
Their port fo proud, their buskin, and their
plume?

How many fleep who kept the world awake
With luftre, and with noite! Has death proclaim'd
A truce, and hung his fated lance on high?
'Tis brandish'd still; nor fhall the prefent year
Be more tenacious of her human leaf,
Or fpread of feeble life a thinner fall.

But needlefs monuments to wake the thought;
Life's gayeft fcenes fpeak man's mortality;
Though in a ftyle more florid, full as plain
As maufoleums, pyramids, and tombs.
What are our noblest ornaments, but deaths
Turn'd flatterers of life, in paint or marble,
The well-ftain'd canvas, or the featur'd stone?
Our fathers grace, or rather haunt, the scene.
Joy peoples her pavilion from the dead.

"Profeft diverfions! cannot thefe efcape?" Far from it: these prefent us with a throud, And talk of death, like garlands o'er a grave. As fome bold plunderers, for buried wealth, We ranfack tombs for paftime; from the duft Call up the fleeping hero; bid him tread The fcene for our amufeinent: how like gods We fit; and, wrapt in immortality, Shed gen'rous tears on wretches born to die; Their fate deploring, to forget our own! What all the pomps and triumphs of our lives But legacies in bloffom? Our lean foil, Luxuriant grown, and rank in vanities, From friends interr'd beneath; a rich manure! Like other worms, we banquet on the dead; Like other worms, fhall we crawl on, nor know Our prefent frailties, or approaching fate?

Lorenzo, fuch the glories of the world! What is the world itfelf? Thy world--a grave. Where is the duft that has not been alive? The fpade, the plough, difturb our ancestors; From human mould we reap our daily bread. The globe around earth's hollow furface thakes, And is the ceiling of her fleeping fons. O'er devaftation we blind revels keep; Whole buried towns fupport the dancer's heel.

$237. Solitude. YOUNG,

SACRED folitude! divine retreat! O Choice of the Prudent! envy of the Great! By thy pure ftream, or in thy waving fhade, We court fair wifdom, that celeftial maid: The genuine offspring of her lov'd embrace (Strangers on earth!) are innocence and peace: There, from the ways of inen laid fafe afhore, We fimile to hear the diftant tempeft roar;

There, bleft with health, with bus nefs unperThis life we relish, and enfure the next. [plex'd, There too the Mufes fport; thefe numbers free, Pierian Eaftbury! I owe to thee.

$238. The Day of Judgment. YOUNG. LO! the wide theatre, whofe ample space

Muft entertain the whole of human race,

At Heaven's all-pow'rful edict is prepar'd,
And fenc'd around with an immortal guard.
Tribes, provinces, dominions, worlds, o'erflow
The mighty plain, and deluge all below:
And ev'ry age and nation pours along;
Nimrod and Bourbon mingle in the throng:
Adam falutes his youngest fon; no fign
Of all those ages which their births disjoin.

How empty learning, and how vain is art,
What volumes have been fwell'd, what time been
But as it mends the life, and guides the heart!
To fix a hero's birth-day or defcent? [spent,
What joy muft it now yield, what rapture raise,
To fee the glorious race of ancient days?
To greet those worthies who perhaps have stood
Illuftrious on record before the flood?
Alas! a nearer care your foul demands:
Cæfar un-noted in your presence stands.

How vaft the concourfe! not in number more The waves that break on the refounding thore. The leaves that tremble in the fhady grove, The lamps that gild the fpangled vaults above; Thofe overwhelming armics, whofe command Said to one empire, Fall; another, Stand: [dawn Whofe rear lay wrapt in night, while breaking Rous'd the broad front, and call'd the battle on; Great Xerxes' world in arms, proud Canna's field, Where Carthage taught victorious Rome to yield, (Another blow had broke the Fates decree, And earth had wanted her fourth monarchy) Immortal Blenheim, fam'd Ramillia's hoft, They all are here, and here they all are loft: Their millions fwell to be difcern'd in vain, Loft as a billow in th' unbounded main.

This echoing voice now rends the yielding air: "For judgment, judgment, fons of men, prepare!" Earth thakes anew; I hear her groans profound, And hell thro' all her trembling realms refound. Whoe'er thou art, thou greateft pow'r of earth, Bleft with most equal planets at thy birth, Whole valour drew the most fuccefsful fword, Moft realms united in one common lord; Who on the day of triumph, faidft, Be thine The fkies, Jehovah, all this world is mine; Dare not to lift thine eye-Alas, my mufe! How art thou loft! what numbers canft thou chufe? A fudden blush inflames the waving sky, And now the crimfon curtains open fly; Lo! far within, and far above all height, Where heaven's great Sov'reign reigns in worlds of light,

Whence nature He inforins, and with one ray Shot from his eye, does all her works survey, Creates,fupports, confounds! where time and place, Matter, and form, and fortune, life, and

grace,

1

Wait humbly at the footstool of their God,
And move obedient at his awful nod;
Whence he beholds us vagrant emmets crawl
At random on this air-fufpended ball
(Speck of creation!): if he pour one breath,
The bubble breaks, and 'tis eternal death.

Thence iffuing I behold (but mortal fight
Suftains not fuch a rushing fea of light!)
I fee, on an empyreal flying throne
Sublimely rais'd, Heaven's everlafting Son;
Crown'd with that majefty which form'd the
world,

And the grand rebel flaming downward hurl'd.
Virtue, dominion, praife, omnipotence,
Support the train of their triumphant Prince.
A zone, beyond the thought of angels bright,
Around him, like the zodiac, winds its light.
Night fhades the folemn arches of his brows,
And in his cheek the purple morning glows.
Where'er ferene he turns propitious eyes,
Or we expect, or find, a paradife :

But if refentment reddens their mild beams,
The Eden kindles, and the world's in flames.
On one hand, knowledge fhines in pureft light;
On one, the fword of juftice, fiercely bright.
Now bend the knee in fport, prefent the reed;
Now tell the fcourg'd Impoftor he fhall bleed!
Thus glorious, thro' the courts of heaven, the
Of life and death eternal bends his courfe; [fource
Loudthunders round him roll, and lightnings play;
Th' angelic hoft is rang'd in bright array:
Some touch the ftring, fome ftrike thefoundingfhell,
And mingling voices in rich concert fwell;
Voices feraphic! bleft with such a strain,
Could Satan hear, he were a god again.
Triumphant King of Glory! Soul of bliss!
What a ftupendous turn of fate is this!
O! whither art thou rais'd above the fcorn
And indigence of him in Bethlem born;
A needlefs, helplefs, unaccounted guest,
And but a fecond to the fodder'd beast!

These an immeafurable arch fupport,
The grand tribunal of this awful court.
Sheets of bright azure form the pureft sky,
Stream from the crystal arch, and round the co-
lumns fly.

Death, wrapt in chains, low at the bafis lies,
And on the point of his own arrow dies.

Here high enthron'd th' eternal Judge is plac'd,
With all the grandeur of his Godhead grac'd;
Stars on his robes in beauteous order meet,
And the fun burns beneath his awful feet.

Now an archangel eminently bright, From off his filver ftaff, of wondrous height, Unfurls the Christian flag, which waving flies, And fhuts and opens more than half the fkies: The Crofs fo ftrong a red, it sheds a stain Where'er it floats, on earth, and air, and main; Flushes the hill, and fets on fire the wood, And turns the deep-dyed occan into blood. Oh formidable Glory! dreadful bright! Refulgent torture to the guilty fight! Ah turn, unwary mufe, nor dare reveal What horrid thoughts with the polluted dwell. Say not (to make the Sun fhrink in his beam) Dare not affirm, they with it all a dream; With or their fouls may with their limbs decay, Or God be spoil'd of his eternal fway. But rather, if thou know'ft the means, unfold How they with transport might the scene behold.

Ah how but by Repentance-by a mind Quick and fevere its own offence to find? By tears, and groans, and never-ccafing care, And all the pious violence of pray'r? Thus then, with fervency till now unknown, I caft my heart before th' eternal throne, In this great temple, which the fkies furround, For homage to its Lord a narrow bound: [weigh, "O Thou! whofe balance does the mountains "Whofe will the wild tumultuous feas obey, "Whofe breath can turn those wat'ry worlds to "flame,

That flame to tempeft, and that tempeft tame; "Earth's meancit fon, all trembling, proftrate "fails,

And on the bounties of thy goodness calls.

G give the winds all paft offence to sweep, "To fcatter wide, or bury in the deep: "Thy pow'r, my weakness, may I ever fee, "And wholly dedicate my foul to thee!

Reign o'er my will; my paffions ebb and flow At thy command, nor human motive know! "If anger boil, let anger be my praife,

And fin the graceful indignation raite.
My love be warm to fuccour the diftrefs'd,
And lift the burden from the foul opprefs'd.
O may my understanding ever read
This glorious volume, which thy wifdom made!
Who decks the maiden Spring with flow'ry
"pride?

"Who calls forth Summer like a fparkling bride?
Who joys the mother Autumn's bed to crown?
And bids old Winter lay her honours down?
Not the great Ottoman, or greater Czar,
'Not Europe's arbitrefs of peace and war.

May

Scandal had found him out in turn,
And buzz'd abroad that crows love corn..
The Owl arofe with folemn face,
And thus harangued upon the cafe :
That magpis piate, it may be true;
A kite may be voracious too;
Crows fometimes deal in new-fown pease ;
He is not, who ftrikes at thefe :

The Mander's here-" But there are birds,
"Whole wisdom lies in looks, not words;
Blund'rers, who level in the dark,
Always fhoot befide the mark."
He names not me; but thefe are hints,
Which manifeft at whom he fquints;
I were indeed that blund'ring fowl,
To queftion if he meant an owl.

Ye wretches, hence! the Eagle cries,
'Tis contience, confcience that applies;
The virtuous mind takes no alarm,
Send by innocence from harm;
While guilt, and his affociate fear,
Are Eartled at the paffing air.

Good-natur'd mirth, an open heart,
And looks unfkill'd in any art;
Humility enough to own

The frailties which a friend makes known,
And decent pride enough to know
The worth that virtue can bestow.

Thefe are the charms which ne'er decay,
Though youth and beauty fade away;
And time, which all things elfe removes,
Still heightens virtue, and improves.

You'll frown, and afk, To what intent This blunt addrefs to you is fent? I'll fpare the queftion, and confefs I'd praife you, if I lov'd you lefs. But rail, be angry, or complain, I will be rude while you are vain. Beneath a lion's peaceful reign, When beafts met friendly on the plain; A Panther of majestic port (The vaineft female of the court) With fpotted fkin, and eyes of fire, Fill'd every bofom with defire.

Where'er the mov'd, a fervile crowd

other Beafts.

THE man who fucks to win the fair
(So cuftom favs) muft truth forbear;
Muft fawn and flatter, cringe and lye,
And raife the goddess to the fky.
For truth is hateful to her car;

A rudeness which the cannot bear.
A rudenefs! Yes. I fpeak my thoughts;
For truth upbraids her with her faults.

How wretched, Chloe, then am I,
Who love you, and yet cannot Ive!
And fil, to make you lefs my friend,
I ftrive "cur errors to amend!
Bet fhall the fenfelets for impart
The fofteft paffion to your heart;
While he, who tells you honeft truth,
And points to happiness your youth,
Determines, by his care, his lot,
And lives neglected and forgot?

Truft me, iny dear, with greater cafe
Your rafte for flatt'ry I could pleafe;
And fimiles in each dull line,

ke glow-worms in the dark, fhould shine.
What if I fay your lips difclofe
The freshnels of the op'ning rofe?
Or that your checks are beds of flow'rs,
Enripen'd by refreshing show'rs?

Yet certain as thefe flow'rs fhall fade,
Time ev'ry beauty will invade.
The butterfly of various hue,
More than the flow'r, refembles you;
Fair, fluttering, fickle, busy thing,
To pleafure ever on the wing,
Gaily coquetting for an hour,

To die and ne'er be thought of more.

Would you the bloom of youth fhould last? Tis virtue that must bind it faft; An eafy carriage, wholly free

From four referve, or levity;

Affemblies ev'ry week fhe held

(Like modern belles) with coxcombs fill'd; Where noife, and nonfenfe, and grimace, And yes, and fcandal, fill'd the place. Behold the gay fantastic thing Encircled by the fpacious ring! Low-bowing, with important look, As firft in rank, the Monkey fpoke: "Gad take me, madam! but I fwear, "No angel ever look'd fo fair:

Forgive my rudeness, but I vow "You were not quite divine till now; "Thofe limbs! that fhape! and then thofe eyes? "O clofe them, or the gazer dies!"

Nay, gentle pug, for goodnefs hufh,
I vow and fwear you make me blush;
I fhall be angry at this rate;
'Tis fo like Hatt'ry, which I hate.

The Fox, in deeper cunning vers'd,
The beautics of her mind rehears'd,
And talk'd of knowledge, tafte, and fenfe,
To which the fair have vaft pretence !
Yet well he knew them always vain
Of what they ftrive not to attain ;
And play'd fo cunningly his part,
That pug was rivall'd in his art.
The avow'd his am'rous flame,
goat
And burnt-for what he durft not name;
Yet hop'd a mecting in the wood
Might make his meaning understood.
Half

angry at the bold addrefs,
She frown'd; but yet the muft confefs
Such beautics might inflame his blood,
But ftill his phrafe was fomewhat rude.

The Hog her neatnefs much admir'd;
The formal Afs her fwiftnefs fir'd:
While all to feed her folly ftrove,
And by their praifes fhar'd her love.

The Horfe, whofe gen'rous heart difdain'd
Applaufe by fervile flatt'ry gain'd,

K 3

With

With graceful courage filence broke,
And thus with indignation spoke :

When flatt'ring monkeys fawn and prate,
They justly raife contempt or hate;
For merit's turn'd to ridicule,
Applauded by the grinning fool.
The artful fox your wit commends,
To lure you to his selfish ends;
From the vile flatt'rer turn away,
For knaves make friendships to betray.
Difmifs the train of fops and fools,
And learn to live by wifdom's rules;
Such beauties might the lion warm,
Did not your folly break the charm;
For who would court that lovely shape,
To be the rival of an ape?

He faid, and fnorting in difdain,
Spurn'd at the crowd, and fought the plain.

§ 241. Fable III. The Nightingale and Glow

worm.

THE prudent nymph, whofe cheeks disclose
The lily and the blushing rofe,
From public view her Charms will screen,
And rarely in the crowd be feen;
This fimple truth fhall keep her wife—
"The fairest fruits attract the flies."

One night a Glow-worm, proud and vain,
Contemplating her glitt'ring train,
Cried, Sure there never was in nature
So elegant, fo fine a creature.
All other infects that I fec,
The frugal a, industrious bee,
Or filk-worm with contempt I view;
With all that low, mechanic crew,
Who fervilely their lives employ
In bus'nefs, enemy to joy.
Mean, vulgar herd! ye are my fcorn;
For grandeur only I was born,
Or fure am fprung from race divine,
And plac'd on earth to live and thine.
Thofe lights that sparkle fo on high,
Are but the glow-worms of the fky;
And kings on earth their gems admire,
Because they imitate my fire.

She fpoke. Attentive on a fpray, A Nightingale forbore his lay; He faw the thining morfel near, And flew, directed by the glare; Awhile he gaz'd with fober look, And thus the trembling prey befpoke : Deluded fool, with pride elate! Know, 'tis thy beauty brings thy fate: Lefs dazzling, long thou might have lain Unheeded on the velvet plain : Pride, foon or late, degraded mourns, And beauty wrecks whom the adorns.

§ 242. Fable IV. Hymen and Death. SIXTEEN, d'ye fay? Nay then 'tis time; Another year deftroys your prime. But ftav-the fettlement?"That's made." Why then's my fimple girl afraid ?

Yet hold a moment, if you can,

And heedfully the fable scan.

The fhades were fled, the morning blush'd,
The winds were in their caverns hush'd,
When Hymen, penfive and fedate,
Held o'er the fields his mufing gait.
Behind him, thro' the green-wood fhade,
Death's meagre form the god furvey'd ;
Who quickly, with gigantic ftride,
Cutwent his pace, and join'd his fide.
The chat on various fubjects ran,
Till angry Hymen thus began:

Relentless Death! whofe iron fway
Mortals reluctant must obey,
Still of thy pow'r fhall I complain,
And thy too partial hand arraign?
When Cupid brings a pair of hearts,
All over ftuck with equal darts,
Thy cruel fhafts my hopes deride,
And cut the knot that Hymen tied.

Shall not the bloody and the bold,
The mifer, hoarding up his gold,
The harlot reeking from the ftew,
Alone thy fell revenge purfue?
But must the gentle and the kind
Thy fury, undiftinguish'd, find?

The monarch calmly thus replied:
Weigh well the caufe, and then decide.
That friend of yours you lately nam'd,
Cupid alone, is to be blam'd;
Then let the charge be juftly laid:
That idle boy neglects his trade,
And hardly once in twenty years
A couple to your temple bears,
The wretches, whom your office blends,
Silenus now, or Plutus fends;
Hence care, and bitterness, and strife,
Are common to the nuptial life.

Believe me; more than all mankind
Your vot'ries my compaffion find.
Yet cruel am I call'd, and base,
Who feck the wretched to releafe;
The captive from his bonds to free,
Indiffoluble but for me,

'Tis I entice him to the yoke;
By me your crowded altars fmoke:
For mortals boldly dare the noofe,
Secure that Death will fet them loose.

243.

Fable V. The Poet and bis Patron.

WHY, Calia, is your fpreading wafte
So loofe, fo negligently lac'd?
Why muft the wrapping bed-gown hide
Your fnowy bofom's fwelling pride?
How ill that drefs adorns your head,
Diftain'd, and rumpled from the bed!
Thofe clouds that thade your blooming face
A little water might difplace,
As Nature ev'ry morn beftows
The cryftal dew to cleanfe the rofe.
Thofe treffes, as the raven black,
That way'd in ringlets down your back,
Uncomb'd, and injur'd by neglect,
Deftroy the face which once they deck'd.
Whene