Augmented pay procured him decent wealth,
But years advancing undermined his health;
Then oft-times in delightful dream he flew
To England's shore, and scenes his childhood
knew:

He saw his parents, saw his fav'rite maid,
No feature wrinkled, not a charm decay'd;
And thus excited, in his bosom rose
A wish so strong, it baffled his repose;
Anxious he felt on English earth to lie;
To view his native soil, and there to die.
He then described the gloom, the dread he
found,

When first he landed on the chosen ground,
Where undefined was all he hoped and fear'd,
And how confused and troubled all appear'd;
His thoughts in past and present scenes
employ'd,

All views in future blighted and destroy'd: His were a medley of bewild'ring themes, Sad as realities, and wild as dreams.

Here his relation closes, but his mind
Flies back again some resting-place to find;
Thus silent, musing through the day, he sees
His children sporting by those lofty trees,
Their mother singing in the shady scene,
Where the fresh springs burst o'er the lively
green ;-

So strong his eager fancy, he affrights
The faithful widow by its powerful flights;
For what disturbs him he aloud will tell,
And cry-'Tis she, my wife! my Isabel!
Where are my children ? '-Judith grieves to
hear

How the soul works in sorrows so severe ;

Assiduous all his wishes to attend,
Deprived of much, he yet may boast a friend;
Watch'd by her care, in sleep, his spirit takes
Its flight, and watchful finds her when he
wakes.

'Tis now her office; her attention see! While her friend sleeps beneath that shading tree,

Careful she guards him from the glowing heat, And pensive muses at her Allen's feet.

And where is he? Ah! doubtless in those

scenes

Of his best days, amid the vivid greens, Fresh with unnumber'd rills, where ev'ry gale Breathes the rich fragrance of the neighb'ring vale;

Smiles not his wife, and listens as there comes The night bird's music from the thick'ning glooms ?

And as he sits with all these treasures nigh,
Blaze not with fairy light the phosphor-fly,
When like a sparkling gem it wheels illumined
by?

This is the joy that now so plainly speaks
In the warm transient flushing of his cheeks;
For he is list'ning to the fancied noise
Of his own children, eager in their joys:
All this he feels, a dream's delusive bliss
Gives the expression, and the glow like this.
And now his Judith lays her knitting by,
These strong emotions in her friend to spy;
For she can fully of their nature deem-
But see! he breaks the long-protracted theme,
And wakes and cries-' My God! 'twas but
a dream.'

Pause there,..

And weigh thy value with an even hand; If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, Thou dost deserve enough.

Merchant of Venice, Act ii, Scene 7. Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, I will do myself the right to trust none; and the fine is (for the which I may go the finer), I will live a bachelor.

Much Ado about Nothing, Acti, Scene 1. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it. Macbeth, Act v, Scene 3.

His promises were, as he then was, mighty; But his performance, as he is now, nothing. Henry VIII, Act iv, Scene 2.

GWYN was a farmer, whom the farmers all, Who dwelt around, the Gentleman would call;

Whether in pure humility or pride,
They only knew, and they would not decide.
Far diff'rent he from that dull plodding

tribe,
Whom it was his amusement to describe;

Creatures no more enliven'd than a clod,
But treading still as their dull fathers trod;
Who lived in times when not a man had seen
Corn sown by drill, or thresh'd by a machine:
He was of those whose skill assigns the prize
For creatures fed in pens, and stalls, and sties;
And who, in places where improvers meet,
To fill the land with fatness, had a seat;
Who in large mansions live like petty kings,
And speak of farms but as amusing things;
Who plans encourage, and who journals keep,
And talk with lords about a breed of sheep.
Two are the species in this genus known;
One, who is rich in his profession grown,
Who yearly finds his ample stores increase,
From fortune's favours and a favouring lease;
Who rides his hunter, who his house adorns;
Who drinks his wine, and his disbursements

To all around their visits he repaid,
And thus his mansion and himself display'd,
His rooms were stately, rather fine than neat.
And guests politely call'd his house a seat;
At much expense was each apartment graced,
His taste was gorgeous, but it still was taste;
In full festoons the crimson curtains fell,
The sofas rose in bold elastic swell;
Mirrors in gilded frames display'd the tints
Of glowing carpets and of colour'd prints;
The weary eye saw every object shine,
And all was costly, fanciful, and fine.

As with his friends he pass'd the social

hours,

His generous spirit scorn'd to hide its powers;
Powers unexpected, for his eye and air
Gave no sure signs that eloquence was there;
Oft he began with sudden fire and force,
As loth to lose occasion for discourse;
Some, 'tis observed, who feel a wish to speak,
Will a due place for introduction seek;
On to their purpose step by step they steal,
And all their way, by certain signals, feel;
Others plunge in at once, and never heed
Whose turn they take, whose purpose they
impede ;

Resolved to shine, they hasten to begin,
Of ending thoughtless-and of these was
Gwyn.
And thus he spake-

It grieves me to the soul
To see how man submits to man's control;
How overpower'd and shackled minds are led
In vulgar tracks, and to submission bred;
The coward never on himself relies,
But to an equal for assistance flies;
Man yields to custom as he bows to fate,
In all things ruled-mind, body, and estate;
In pain, in sickness, we for cure apply
To them we know not, and we know not why;
But that the creature has some jargon read,
And got some Scotchman's system in his head;
Some grave impostor, who will health insure,
Long as your patience or your wealth endure;
But mark them well, the pale and sickly crew,
They have not health, and can they give it
you?

These solemn cheats their various methods choose;

A system fires them, as a bard his muse: Hence wordy wars arise; the learn'd divide, And groaning patients curse each erring guide.

Next, our affairs are govern'd, buy or sell, Upon the deed the law must fix its spell; Whether we hire or let, we must have still The dubious aid of an attorney's skill; They take a part in every man's affairs, And in all business some concern is theirs ; Because mankind in ways prescribed are found,

Like flocks that follow on a beaten ground, Each abject nature in the way proceeds, That now to shearing, now to slaughter leads. 'Should you offend, though meaning no offence,

You have no safety in your innocence;
The statute broken then is placed in view,
And men must pay for crimes they never
knew:

Who would by law regain his plunder'd store,
Would pick up fallen merc'ry from the floor;
If he pursue it, here and there it slides;
He would collect it, but it more divides;
This part and this he stops, but still in vain,
It slips aside, and breaks in parts again;
Till, after time and pains, and care and cost,
He finds his labour and his object lost.

'But most it grieves me, (friends alone are round),

To see a man in priestly fetters bound; Guides to the soul, these friends of Heaven contrive,

Long as man lives, to keep his fears alive; Soon as an infant breathes, their rites begin; Who knows not sinning, must be freed from

sin;

Who needs no bond, must yet engage in vows; Who has no judgment, must a creed espouse: Advanced in life, our boys are bound by rules, Are catechised in churches, cloisters, schools, And train'd in thraldom to be fit for tools: The youth grown up, he now a partner needs, And lo! a priest, as soon as he succeeds. What man of sense can marriage-rites approve?

What man of spirit can be bound to love? Forced to be kind! compell'd to be sincere! Do chains and fetters make companions dear? Pris'ners indeed we bind; but though the bond

May keep them safe, it does not make them fond:

The ring, the vow, the witness, licence,

Such forms men suffer, and from these they date

A deed of love begun with all they hate : Absurd! that none the beaten road should shun,

But love to do what other dupes have done. 'Well, now your priest has made you one of

twain,

Look you for rest? Alas! you look in vain.
If sick, he comes; you cannot die in peace,
Till he attends to witness your release;
To vex your soul, and urge you to confess
The sins you feel, remember, or can guess :
Nay, when departed, to your grave he goes,
But there indeed he hurts not your repose.

'Such are our burthens; part we must

sustain,

But need not link new grievance to the chain; Yet men like idiots will their frames surround With these vile shackles, nor confess they're

bound:

In all that most confines them they confide, Their slavery boast, and make their bonds their pride;

E'en as the pressure galls them, they declare, (Good souls!) how happy and how free they are !

As madmen, pointing round their wretched cells,

Cry,

"Lo! the palace where our honour dwells."

'Such is our state; but I resolve to live By rules my reason and my feelings give; No legal guards shall keep enthrall'd my mind, No slaves command me, and no teachers blind.

'Tempted by sins, let me their strength defy, But have no second in a surplice by ; No bottle-holder, with officious aid, To comfort conscience, weaken'd and afraid : Then if I yield, my frailty is not known; And, if I stand, the glory is my own.

'When Truth and Reason are our friends,

we seem

Alive! awake!-the superstitious dream.
'Oh! then, fair Truth, for thee alone I seek,
Friend to the wise, supporter of the weak;
From thee we learn whate'er is right and just;
Forms to despise, professions to distrust;
Creeds to reject, pretensions to deride,
And, following thee, to follow none beside.'

Such was the speech; it struck upon the ear Like sudden thunder, none expect to hear.

He saw men's wonder with a manly pride, And gravely smiled at guest electrified;

A farmer this!' they said, 'Oh! let him seek

That place where he may for his country speak; On some great question to harangue for hours, While speakers hearing, envy nobler powers!'

Wisdom like this, as all things rich and rare, Must be acquired with pains, and kept with care;

In books he sought it, which his friends might view,

Watching his eye, and waiting on his will; Simple yet smart her dress, her manners meek, Her smiles spoke for her, she would seldom speak :

But watch'd each look, each meaning to detect,

And (pleased with notice) felt for all neglect. With her lived Gwyn a sweet harmonious

life,

Who, forms excepted, was a charming wife. The wives indeed, so made by vulgar law, Affected scorn, and censured what they saw ;

drew.

There were historic works for graver hours,
And lighter verse, to spur the languid powers;
There metaphysics, logic there had place;
But of devotion not a single trace-
Save what is taught in Gibbon's florid page,
And other guides of this inquiring age;
There Hume appear'd, and near, a splendid
book

Composed by Gay's good Lord of Bolingbroke: With these were mix'd the light, the free, the vain,

And from a corner peep'd the sage Tom Paine: Here four neat volumes Chesterfield were named,

For manners much and easy morals famed; With chaste Memoirs of Females, to be read When deeper studies had confused the head. Such his resources, treasures where he sought

For daily knowledge till his mind was fraught: Then when his friends were present, for their

use

He would the riches he had stored produce;
He found his lamp burn clearer, when each day
He drew for all he purposed to display:
For these occasions, forth his knowledge

sprung,

As mustard quickens on a bed of dung; All was prepared, and guests allow'd the praise,

For what they saw he could so quickly raise. Such this new friend; and when the year came round,

The same impressive, reasoning sage was found:

Then, too, was seen the pleasant mansion graced

With a fair damsel-his no vulgar taste;
The neat Rebecca-sly, observant, still;

sin,

And took no notice of the wife of Gwyn: But he despised their rudeness, and would prove

Theirs was compulsion and distrust, not love; Fools as they were! could they conceive that rings

And

parsons' blessings were substantial things?'

They answer'd Yes;' while he contemptuous spoke

Of the low notions held by simple folk;
Yet, strange that anger in a man so wise
Should from the notions of these fools arise;
Can they so vex us, whom we so despise ?

Brave as he was, our hero felt a dread Lest those who saw him kind should think him led;

If to his bosom fear a visit paid,
It was, lest he should be supposed afraid :
Hence sprang his orders; not that he desired
The things when done: obedience he re-
quired;

And thus, to prove his absolute command, Ruled every heart, and moved each subject hand,

Assent he ask'd for every word and whim, To prove that he alone was king of him.

The still Rebecca, who her station knew, With ease resign'd the honours not her due ; Well pleased, she saw that men her board would grace,

And wish'd not there to see a female face; When by her lover she his spouse was styled, Polite she thought it, and demurely smiled ; But when he wanted wives and maidens round So to regard her, she grew grave, and frown'd; And sometimes whisper'd' Why should you respect

These people's notions, yet their forms reject ? '

Call'd them of sin's destructive power the foes,

And not such blockheads as he might suppose.' Gwyn to his friends would smile, and sometimes say,

"Tis a kind fool, why vex her in her way?' Her way she took, and still had more in view, For she contrived that he should take it too. The daring freedom of his soul, 'twas plain, In part was lost in a divided reign;

A king and queen, who yet in prudence sway'd
Their peaceful state, and were in turn obey'd.
Yet such our fate, that when we plan the
best,

Something arises to disturb our rest:
For though in spirits high, in body strong,
Gwyn something felt he knew not what
was wrong;

He wish'd to know, for he believed the thing,
If unremoved, would other evil bring:
'She must perceive of late he could not eat,
And when he walk'd, he trembled on his

feet:

He had forebodings, and he seem'd as one Stopp'd on the road, or threaten'd by a dun; He could not live, and yet, should he apply To those physicians-he must sooner die.'

The mild Rebecca heard with some disdain, And some distress, her friend and lord complain :

His death she fear'd not, but had painful doubt What his distemper'd nerves might bring about;

With power like hers she dreaded an ally,
And yet there was a person in her eye ;-
She thought, debated, fix'd-Alas!' she
said,

a friend And doctor one, your fears would have an end: My cousin Mollet-Scotland holds him nowIs above all men skilful, all allow ; Of late a doctor, and within a while He means to settle in this favour'd isle; Should he attend you, with his skill profound, You must be safe, and shortly would be sound.' When men in health against physicians rail, They should consider that their nerves may fail;

Who calls a lawyer rogue, may find, too late, On one of these depends his whole estate: Nay, when the world can nothing more produce,

The priest, th' insulted priest, may have his

use;

Ease, health, and comfort, lift a man so high, These powers are dwarfs that he can scarcely spy;

Pain, sickness, languor keep a man so low, That these neglected dwarfs to giants grow. Happy is he who through the medium sees Of clear good sense-but Gwyn was not of these.

He heard and he rejoiced: Ah! let him

come,

And till he fixes, make my house his home.' Home came the doctor he was much

admired;

He told the patient what his case required; His hours for sleep, his time to eat and drink; When he should ride, read, rest, compose, or

think.

Thus join'd peculiar skill and art profound, To make the fancy-sick no more than fancysound.

With such attention, who could long be ill? Returning health proclaim'd the doctor's skill. Presents and praises from a grateful heart Were freely offer'd on the patient's part; In high repute the doctor seem'd to stand, But still had got no footing in the land; And, as he saw the seat was rich and fair, He felt disposed to fix his station there: To gain his purpose he perform'd the part Of a good actor, and prepared to start; Not like a traveller in a day serene, When the sun shone and when the roads

were clean;