is not properly understood or practifed at the other end of the town; though it is faid that fome particular perfons there had tried it with a proper effect.
Notwithstanding all I have advanced of this impertinent visitor, I cannot help owning that fome have attempted to infinuate a better opinion of him. A certain old gentleman, for recommending his acquaintance, got the title of a wife man; a name at prefent but of fmall confideration; and I am told that there never were but seven who were allowed that title. There are indeed fome few perfons of high rank of both fexes, that do vouchfafe to commune with him; but they are fuch fort of folks, as are hardly fit to converfe with any but one another; and very happily, one is feldom peftered with them at places of polite affociation; scarce a man among them knowing how to make a bet, to drink his third bottle, or that has fpirit to afpire at the reputation of a bonne fortune. The ladies of this clafs are alfo fo unfit for the converfation of the world, that not one in ten of them knows how to play a rubber at Whift, or dares to fit down to a party at Bragg.
I have now, Sir, laid my complaints before you, and beg your advice how to get clear of my perplexity. My troublesome companion is, no doubt, too well known to you to require the infertion of his name; but as fome of your readers (particularly females) may be fubject to the frailty of forgetting their most intimate acquaintance, I will inform them, that this ghaftly phantom that intrudes fo impertinently upon all forts of people, this creature that we fo feldom know what to do with, and wish so heartily to get rid of, is no other than ONE'S SELF.
The SHEPHERD and the PHILOSOPHER.
EMOTE from cities liv'd a Swain,
Unvex'd with all the cares of gain;
His head was filver'd o'er with age,
And long experience made him fage;
In fummer's heat and winter's cold
He fed his flock and penn'd the fold;
His hours in chearful labour flew,
Nor envy nor ambition knew;
His wifdom and his honest fame
wildom
Through all the country rais'd his name.
A deep Philofopher (whofe rules
Of moral life were drawn from schools)
The Shepherd's homely cottage fought,
And thus explor'd his reach of thought.
Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil
O'er books confum'd the mid-night oil?
Haft thou old Greece and Rome furvey'd,`
And the vaft fenfe of Plato weigh'd?
Hath Socrates thy foul refin'd,
And haft thou fathom'd Tully's mind ?
Or, like the wife Ulyffes thrown
By various fates on realms unknown,
Haft thou through many cities ftray'd,
Their customs, laws, and manners weigh'd?
The Shepherd modeftly reply'd,
I ne'er the paths of learning try'd;
Nor have I roam'd in foreign parts
To read mankind, their laws and arts;
For man is practis'd in difguife,
He cheats the most difcerning eyes:
Who by that fearch fhall wifer grow,
When we ourfelves can never know?
The little knowledge I have gain'd,
Was all from fimple nature drain'd;
Hence my life's maxims took their rife,
Hence
grew my fettled hate to vice.
The daily labours of the bee
Awake my foul to industry.
Who can obferve the careful ant,
And not provide for future want?
My dog (the truftieft of his kind)
With gratitude inflames my mind:
I mark his true, his faithful way,
And in my service copy Tray.
In conftancy and nuptial love,
I learn my duty from the dove.
The hen, who from the chilly air,
With pious wings protects her care;
And every fowl that flies at large,
Inftructs me in a parent's charge.
From nature too I take my rule,
To fhun contempt and ridicule.
I never with important air
In converfation over-bear.
Can grave and formal pass for wife,
When men the folemn owl defpise?
My tongue within my lips I rein;
For who talks much muft talk in vain.
We from the wordy torrent fly:
Who liftens to the chatt'ring pye?
Nor would I, with felonious flight,
By ftealth invade my neighbour's right.
Rapacious animals we hate:
Kites, hawks, and wolves deferve their fate.
Do not we just abhorrence find
Against the toad and ferpent kind ?
But envy, calumny, and fpite,
Bear ftronger venom in their bite.
Thus every object of creation
Can furnish hints to contemplation;
. And from the most minute and mean
A virtuous mind can morals glean.
Thy fame is juft, the fage replies;
Thy virtue proves thee truly wife.
Pride often guides the author's pen,
Books as affected are as men:
But he who ftudies nature's laws,
From certain truth his maxims draws;
And thofe without our schools, fuffice
To make men moral, good, and wife.
The COUNTRYMAN and JUPITER.
AVE you a friend (look round and spy)
So fond, fo prepoffefs'd as I?
Your faults, fo obvious to mankind,
My partial eyes could never find.
When, by the breath of fortune blown,
Your airy caftles were o'erthrown;
Have I been over prone to blame,
Or mortify'd your hours with fhame?
Was I e'er known to damp your spirit,
Or twit you with the want of merit?
'Tis not fo ftrange that fortune's frown.
Still perfeveres to keep you down.
Look round, and fee what others do ;
Would you be rich and honeft too?
Have you (like thofe fhe rais'd to place)
Been opportunely mean and base?
Have you (as times requir'd) refign'd
Truth, honour, virtue, peace of mind!
If thefe are fcruples, give her o'er ;
Write, practife morals, and be poor.
The gifts of fortune truly rate,
Then tell me what would mend your state.
If happiness on wealth were built,
Rich rogues might comfort find in guilt,
As grows the mifer's hoarded ftore,
His fears, his wants increase the more.
Think, Gay, (what ne'er may be the cafe)
Should fortune take you into grace,
Would that your happiness augment?
What can fhe give beyond content?
Suppofe yourself a wealthy heir,
With a vast annual income clear;
In all the affluence you poffefs,
You might not feel one care the lefs.
Might you not then (like others find)
With change of fortune, change of mind
Perhaps, profufe beyond all rule,
You might start out a glaring fool;
Your luxury might break all bounds:
Plate, table, horfes, ftewards, hounds,
Might fwell your debts: then luft of play
No regal income can defray.
Sunk is all credit, writs affail,
And doom your future life to jail.
Or were you dignify'd with pow'r,
Would that avert one penfive hour ?
You might give avarice its fwing,
Defraud a nation, blind a king:
Then from the hirelings in your caufe,
Though daily fed with falfe applaufe,
Could it a real joy impart?
Great guilt knew never joy at heart.
Is happiness your point in view
(I mean th' intrinfic and the true)
She nor in camps or courts refides,
Nor in the humble cottage hides;
Yet found alike in ev'ry fphere;
Who finds content, will find her there.
.O'erfpent with toil beneath the shade,
A peasant refted on his fpade.
Good gods! he cries, 'tis hard to bear
This load of life from year to year.
Soon as the morning ftreaks the skies,
Induftrious labour bids me rife ;
With fweat I earn my homely fare,
And every day renews my care.
Jove heard the difcontented ftrain,
And thus rebuk'd the murm'ring fwain.
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