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Then, gladly turning, fought his ancient place, Then grieve the moments thou haft idly fpe And pafs'd a life of piety and peace.

$105. The Golden Verfes of Pythagoras. Fitzgerald.

FIRST, the Supreme doth highest rev'rence
claim;

Ufe with religious awe his facred name:
Affur'd he views thy ways, let nought controul
The oath thou once haft bound upon thy foul.
Next to the heroes bear a grateful mind,
Whofe glorious cares and toils have bleft man-
Let juft refpect and decent rites be paid [kind.
To the immortal manes of the dead.
Honour thy parents, and thy next of kind;
And virtuous men wherever thou canft find,
In the fame bond of love let them be join'd.

Useful and steady let thy life proceed,
Mild ev'ry word, good-natur'd ev'ry deed;
Oh, never with the man thou lov'ft contend!
But bear a thoufand frailties from thy friend.
Rafhly inflam'd, vain fpleen, and flight furmife,
To real feuds, and endless difcords rife.

O'er luft, o'er anger, keep the ftrictest rein,
Subdue thy floth, thy appetite reftrain.
With no vile action venture to comply,
Not tho' unfeen by ev'ry mortal eye.
Above all witneffes thy confcience fear,
And more than all mankind thyfelf revere.
One way let all thy words and actions tend,
Reafon their conftant guide, and truth their end.
And ever mindful of thy mortal state,

How quick, how various are the turns of fate;
How here, how there, the tides of fortune roll:
How foon impending death concludes the whole,
Compofe thy mind, and free from anxious ftrife
Endure thy portion of the ills of life:
Tho' ftill the good man ftands fecure from harms,
Nor can misfortune wound, whom virtue arms.
Difcourfe in common converfe, thou wilt find
Some to improve, and fome to taint the mind;
Grateful to that a due obfervance pay:
Beware, left this entice thy thoughts aftray;
And bold untruths which thou artforc'd to hear,
Receive difcreetly with a patient ear.

Woult thou be justly rank'd among the wife,
Think ere thou doft, ere thou refolvit advife.
Still let thy aims with fage experience square,
And plan thy conduct with fagacious care;
So fhalt thou all thy courfe with pleasure run,
Nor with an action of thy life undone.

Among the various ends of thy defires,
'Tis no inferior place thy health requires.
Firmly for this from all excefs refrain,
Thy cups be mod'raate, and thy diet plain,
Nor yet unelegant thy board fupply,
But thun the naufeous pomp of luxury.
Let fpleen, by cheerful converfe be withstood,
And honeft labours purify the blood.

Each night, ere needful flumber feals thy eyes,
Home to thy foul let thefe reflections rife :
How has this day my duty feen exprefs'd?
What have I done, omitted, or tranfgrefs'd?

The reft will yield thee comfort and conte

Be thefe good rules thy ftudy and delight
Practife by day, and ponder them by night
Thus all thythoughts to virtue's height fhall
And truth fhall ftand unveil'd before thy ey
Of beings the whole fyftem thou shalt fee,
Rang'd as they are in beauteous harmony,
Whilft all depend from one fuperior caufe,
And Nature works obedient to her laws.
Hence, as thou labour'st with judicious car
To run the course allotted to thy share,
Wisdom refulgent with a heavenly ray
Shall clear thy profpect, and direct thy way

Then all around compaffionately view,
The wretched ends which vain mankind pur
Tofs'd to and fro by each impeteous guft,
The rage of paffion, or the fire of luft,
No certain ftay, no fafe retreat they know,
But blindly wander through a maze of woe
Meanwhile congenial vilenefs works within,
And cuftom quite fubdues the foul to fin.
Save us from this diftrefs, Almighty Lord,
Our minds illumine, and thy aid afford!

But O! fecure from all thy life is led,
Whofe feet the happy paths of virtue tread.
Thou ftand'ft united to the race divine,
And the perfection of the skies is thine.
Imperial reafon, free from all controul,
Maintains her just dominion in thy foul:
Till purg'd at length from every finful stain,
When friendly death fhall break the cumbro
chain,

Loos'd from the body thou shalt take thy flig
And range immortal in the fields of light.

$106. On Cheerfulness. Fitzgerald.
FAIR as the dawning light! aufpicious gue
Source of all comfort to the human breast;
Depriv'd of thee, in fad despair we moan,
And tedious roll the heavy moments on.
Though beauteous objects all around us rise,
To charm the fancy and delight the eyes;
Though art's fair works and nature's gifts co
spire

To pleafe each fenfe, and fatiate each defire,
'Tis joylefs all-till thy enliv'ning ray
Scatters the melancholy gloom away.
Then opens to the foul a beavenly scene,
Gladness and peace, all sprightly, all ferene.

Where doft thou reign, fay, in what ble
retreat,

To choose thy manfion, and to fix thy feat?
Thy facred prefence how thall we explore?
Can av'rice gain thee with her golden store?
Can vain ambition with her boafted charms
Tempt thee within her wide-extended arms?
No, with Content alone canft thou abide,
Thy filter, ever fmiling by thy fide.

When boon companions void of ev'ry care
Crown the full bowl,and therich banquetshare,
And give a loofe to pleafure-art thou there
Or when th' affembled great and fair advance
To celebrate the mask, the play, the dance,

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White beauty spreads its sweetest charms around,

Autis ectatic fwell their tuneful found,
Anthea within the pompous circle found?
Does not thy influence more fedately thine?
Cach tumultuous joys as thefe be thine?
Sayre mild, more conftant in their courfe,
Try plaires iffue from a nobler fource;
For tweet difcretion ruling in the breast,
Fr pans temper'd, and from lufts repreft;
Froghts unconfcious of a guilty fmart,
cm tranfports of an honeft heart.
74, O ever faithful, ever kind!
Ti, thro' death, attends the virtuous
mand;

Of angry fate, wards from us ev'ry blow,
(rev'ry ill, and foftens ev'ry woe.
Watever good our mortal state defires,
Wandom finds, or innocence infpires;

7 nature's bounteous hand whatever flows,
ercer Maker's providence bestows,
Be mankind enjoys; by thee repays
A gaten tabate of perpetual praife.

4:05. On Industry. Fitzgerald. GREET A - virtues! for whate'er we call Gue and great, 'tis thou obtain'st it all. Not be annous for thy strong eflay, ature own thy potent fway. Lotter to each fuperior aim, Wena ardour thro' the paths of fame, to the Larel top, and leave behind

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was crowd, the herd of human kind; tour round us pours her heavenly ray, Asperence guides our steady way.

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router, to furious lufts controul The me bona vigour of the foul. Lezion gracefully we fill, Art bend and shape our fortune to our will. Ilera down thro' ev'ry age renown'd, re and glorious titles crown'd, gun'd his honourable fpoils, alty fime atchiev'd by mighty toils. it learning studious he purfues, tborn fciences fubdues; wide fields expatiates unconfin 'd, or ever his capacious mind. Max the lower ranks thy aid in vain; Tew mechanic and the lab'ring fwain:

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sece and fweet content to the fe it brings, As prizes than the wealth of kings. Warming round us death's fad terrors

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§ 108. A Thought upon Death. Fitzgerald, 'Tis vain, my foul, 'tis impious all,

The human lot to mourn,
That life fo foon must fleet away,
And duft to duft return.
Alas! from death the terrors fly,
When once 'tis understood;
'Tis Nature's call, 'tis God's decree,
And is, and must be good.
Wearied his limbs with honeft toil,

And void of cares his breast,
See how the lab'ring hind finks down
Each night to wholesome rest.
No naufeous fumes perplex his fleep,
No guilty starts surprise;
The vitions that his fancy forms,
All free and cheerful rife.
So thou, nor led by lufts aftray,

Nor gall'd with anxious ftrife,
With virtuous industry fulfil
The plain intent of life.
Pafs calmly thy appointed day,
And ufefully employ,

And then thou 'art fure whate'er fucceed
Is reft, and peace, and joy.

$109. The Fire-Side. Cotton.
DEAR Chloe, while the bufy crowd,
The vain, the wealthy, and the proud,
In Folly's maze advance;
Tho' fingularity and pride
Be call'd our choice, we 'll ftep aside,
Nor join the giddy dance.
From the gay world we 'll oft retire
To our own family and fire,

Where love our hours employs;
No noify neighbour enters here,
No intermeddling stranger near,

To fpoil our heart-felt joys. If folid happiness we prize, within our breaft this jewel lies;

The world has nothing to bestow;
And they are fools who roam:
From our own felves our joys must flow,
And that dear hut, our home.
Of reft was Noah's dove bereft,
When with impatient wing the left

That fafe retreat, the ark;
Giving her vain excurfion o'er,
The difappointed bird once more
Explor'd the facred bark.
Tho' fools fpurn Hymen's gentle pow'rs,
We, who improve his golden hours,
By fweet experience know,
That marriage, rightly understood,
Gives to the tender and the good
A paradife below.
Our babes fhall richest comforts bring;
If tutor'd right, they 'll prove a spring
Whence pleasures ever rife:
G

We'l

We ll form their minds, with ftudious care, To all that 's manly, good and fair,

And train them for the skies.

While they our wifeft hours engage,
They'll joy our youth, fupport our age,
And crown our hoary hairs:
They'll grow in virtue ev'ry day,
And thus our fondeft loves repay,

And recompence our cares.

No borrow'd joys, they 're all our own,
While to the worid we live unknown,

Or by the world forgot:
Monarchs! we envy not your ftate;
We look with pity on the great,
And blefs our humble lot.
Our portion is not large, indeed;
But then how little do we need!
For nature's calls are few:
In this the art of living lies,
To want no more than may fuffice,
And make that little do.

We'll therefore relish, with content,
Whate'er kind Providence has fent,

Nor aim beyond our pow'r;
For, if our stock be very small,
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all,

Nor lofe the present hour. To be refign'd when ills betide, Patient when favours are denied,

And pleas'd with favours given; Dear Chloe, this is wifdom's part; This is that incenfe of the heart

Whofe fragrance fmells to heaven.
We'll afk no long protracted treat,
Since winter life is feldom fweet;

But, when our feast is o'er,
Grateful from table we 'll arife,
Nor grudge our fons with envious eyes
The relics of our store.

Thus, hand in hand, thro' life we 'll go;
Its chequer'd paths of joy and woe

With cautious steps we 'll tread;
Quit its vain fcenes without a tear,
Without a trouble or a fear,

And mingle with the dead.

While confcience, like a faithful friend,
Shall thro' the gloomy vale attend,

And cheer our dying breath;

Shall, when all other comforts cease,
Like a kind angel whifper peace,

And fmooth the bed of death.

Forego the fearch, my curious friend,
And husband time to better end.
All my ambition is, I own,

To profit and to pleate unknown;
Like ftreams supplied from fprings below,
Which fcatter bleflings as they flow.

Were you difeas'd, or preis'd with pain,
Straight you 'd apply to Warwick Lane.
The thoughtful Doctor feels your pulie
(No matter whether Mead or Hulfe),
Writes-Arabic to you and me-
Then figns his hand, and takes his fee.
Now, fhould the lage omit his name,
Would not the cure remain the fame?
Not but physicians fign their bill,
Or when they cure, or when they kill.
'Tis often known, the mental race
Their fond ambitious fires difgrace.
Dar'd I avow a parent's claim,

Critics might incer, and friends might blame
This dang'rous fecret let me hide,
I'll tell you ev'ry thing befide:
Not that it boots the world a tittle,
Whether the author's big or little;
Or whether fair, or black, or brown:
No writer's hue concerns the town.

I pafs the filent rural hour,
No flave to wealth, no tool to pow'r:
My manfion's warm, and very neat;
You'd fay, 'A pretty fnug retreat!"
My rooms no coftly paintings grace,
The humbler print fupplies their place.
Behind the house my garden lies,
And opens to the fouthern fkies:
The distant hills gay profpects yield,
And plenty fmiles in ev'ry field.

The faithful mattiff is my guard :
The feather'd tribes adorn my yard;
Alive my joy, my treat when dead,
And their foft plumes improve my bed
My cow rewards me all the can
(Brutes leave ingratitude to man);
She daily thankful to her lord,
Crowns with nectareous fweets my board:
Am I difeas'd? the cure is known,
Her fweeter juices mend my own.

I love my house, and feldom roam;
Few vifits please me more than home:
I pity that unhappy elt

Who loves all company but felf;
By idle pailions borne away

To opera, masquerade, or play;

Fond of thofe hives where Folly reigns,
And Britain's peers receive her chains;

$110. VISIONS for the Entertainment and In- Where the pert virgin flights a name,

fruction of younger Minds.

Cotton.

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And fcorns to redden into shame.
But know, my fair, to whom belong
The poet and his artless fong,
When female cheeks refufe to glow,
Farewell to virtue here below!
Our fex is loft to ev'ry rule;
Our fole diftinction, knave or fool

Though Dr Cotton is well known to have been the author of thefe Vifions, they have generally been published without prefixing his name.

Taton innocence we run;
Suraswatir, or we 're undone;
Managar modesty and station,
till preferve the nation.

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is faid, in days of old,
their girls more choice than gold;
daughter's worth they knew,
eber cheap by public view:
their diamonds' value weigh,
diamonds ev'ry day.

Plume drew near, and fmil'd,
e trembled for her child:
Tevance alarm'd her breast;
And any pictur'd all the reft.
Btw so mother fears a foe;
She thudders at a beau.

is all the reigning theme;
day thought, our midnight dream.
scance our youths engage,

es crowds of tott'ring age.
e, the Lace, th' intemp'rate bowl,
charms engrofs the foul.
health, the terms of vice?
shall pay the price.
pot they run,

hard to be undone. Dmy want of taste, where joys are plac'd. Irer who think me blind; And I can a foic's mind.

R

evo are my tenfations quite; ve to feel aright.

reams, glide gently by; r channel, never dry; Ka, fruitful wave, hb'ring meads they lave. My I'll mention all, Andrea dare tell) is finall; Yevy find partakes my store, And wat goes failing from my door. Wings warm the breast worth or industry diftreftso I cheerfully impart,

e pleasures to my heart;

sa may make, by means like thefe, ests ten, whene'er you please. my little purfe grows light; I deep fo fweet at night! dipecific will prevail the doctor's opiates fail. party I purfue;

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u mean, Whofe fool are you?'

The as of party I deteft;
Every at belt:
I've each grace to play the knave,
Auch pride to turn a flave.
They country from my foul,
Alive when knaves or fools controul:

aid when vice and folly smart, the get or the cart:

Aways pity where I can ;

at the guilt, but mourn the man.

Now the religion of your poet-
Does not this little preface fhow it!
My Visions if you fcan with care,
'Tis ten to one you 'll find it there.
And if my actions fuit my fong,

You can 't in confcience think me wrong.

$111. Vifon I. Slander. Infcribed to Mifs ****,
My lovely girl, I write for you,
And pray believe my Vifions true;
They'll form your mind to ev'ry grace;
They 'll add new beauties to your face;
And when old age impairs your prime,
You'll triumph o'er the spoils of time.
Childhood and youth engage my pen;
Tis labour loft to talk to men:
Youth may perhaps reform when wrong;
Age will not liften to my fong.
He who at fifty is a fool,

Is far too ftubborn grown for school.
What is that vice which ftill prevails,
When almost ev'ry paffion fails;
Which with our very dawn begun,
Nor ends but with our fetting fun;
Which, like a noxious weed, can spoil
The fairest flow'rs, and choke the foil!
Tis Slander-and, with fhame I own,
The vice of human kind alone.

Be Slander, then, my leading dream,
Tho' you 're a ftranger to the theme;
Thy fofter breast, and honeft heart,
Scorn the defamatory art;

Thy foul afferts her native skies,
Nor afks detraction's wings to rife;
In foreign fpoils let others fhine,
Intrinfic excellence is thine.
The bird in peacock's plumes who shone
Could plead no merit of her own;
The filly theft betray'd her pride,
And spoke her poverty befide.

Th' infidious fland'ring thief is worfe
Than the poor rogue who steals your purse.
Say, he purloins your glitt'ring store;
Who takes your gold, takes traih-no more;
Perhaps he pilfers-to be fed-

Ah! guiltless wretch who fteals for bread!
But the dark villain who fhall aim
To blaft, my fair, thy fpotlefs name,
He'd fteal a precious gem away,
Steal what both Indies can 't repay!
Here the strong pleas of want are vain,
Or the more pious pleas of gain.
No finking family to fave!

No gold to glut th' infatiate knave !

Improve the hint of Shakspeare's tongue;
'Twas thus immortal Shakspeare fung *:
And trust the bard's unerring rule,
For nature was that poet's fchool.
As I was nodding in my chair,
I faw a rueful wild appear;
No verdure met my aching fight,
But hemlock and cold aconite;
• Othello.

Two very pois'nous plants, 'tis true,
But not fo bad as vice to you.

The dreary profpect spread around;
Deep fnow had whiten'd all the ground:
A bleak and barren mountain nigh,
Expos'd to ev'ry friendlefs fky!
Here foul-mouth'd Slander lay reclin'd,
Her inaky treffes hifs'd behind;

A bloated toad-stool rais'd her head, The plumes of ravens were her bed *;' She fed upon the viper's brood, And flak'd her impious thirft with blood. The rifing fun, and western ray, Were witness to her diftant fway. The tyrant claim'd a mightier hoft Than the proud Persian e'er could boast. No conqueft grac'd Darius' fon †, By his own numbers half undone: Succefs attended Slander's pow'r; She reap'd fresh laurels ev'ry hour. Her troops a deeper scarlet wore Than ever armies knew before.

No plea diverts the fury's rage, The fury fpares nor fex nor age. E'en Merit, with destructive charms, Provokes the vengeance of her arms.

Whene'er the tyrant founds to war,
Her canker'd trump is heard afar.
Pride, with a heart unknown to yield,
Commands in chief, and guides the field;
He talks with vaft gigantic ftride,
And scatters fear and ruin wide:
So the impetuous torrents fweep
At once whole nations to the deep.
Revenge, that bafe Hefperian †, known
A chief fupport of Slander's throne,
Amidst the bloody crowd is feen,
And treach'ry brooding in his mien;
The monster often chang'd his gait,
But march'd refolv'd and fix'd as fate.
Thus the fell kite, whom hunger ftings,
Now flowly moves his out-ftretch'd wings;
Now fwift as lightning bears away,
And darts upon his trembling prey.

Envy commands a facred band,
With fword and poifon in her hand.
Around her haggard eye-balls roll;
A thousand fiends poffefs her foul.
The artful unfufpected sprite
With fatal aim attacks by night.
Her troops advance with filent tread,
And ftab the hero in his bed;
Or fhoot the wing'd malignant lie,
And female honours pine and die.

So prowling wolves, when darknefs reigns,
Intent on murder, fcour the plains;
Approach the folds where lambs repose,
Whofe guileless breasts suspect no foes;

Garth's Difpenfatory.

The favage gluts his fierce defires,
And bleating innocence expires.

Slander fmil'd horribly, to view
How wide her conquefts daily grew:
Around the crowded levees wait,
Like oriental flaves of state;
Of either fex whole armies preft,
But chiefly of the fair and best.

Is it a breach of friendship's law,
To fay what female friends I saw?
Slander aflumes the idol's part,
And claims the tribute of the heart;
The beft in fome unguarded hour,
Have bow'd the knee, and own'd her pow'r.
Then let the poet not reveal
What candour wishes to conceal.

If I beheld fome faulty fair,
Much worfe delinquents crowded there:
Prelates in facred lawn I faw,
Grave phyfic, and loquacious law;
Courtiers, like fummer flies, abound;
And hungry poets fwarm around.
But now my partial story ends,
And makes my females full amends.

If Albion's ifle fuch dreams fulfils,
'Tis Albion's ifle which cures the ills:
Fertile of ev'ry worth and grace.
Which warm the heart and flufh the face.
Fancy difclos'd a smiling train

Of British nymphs that tripp'd the plain.
Good-nature firit, a fylvan queen,
Attir'd in robes of cheerful green;
A fair and fmiling virgin the!
With ev'ry charm that fhines in thee.
Prudence affum'd the chief command,
And bore a mirror in her hand;
Grey was the matron's head by age,
Her mind by long experience fage;
Of ev'ry diftant ill afraid,

And anxious for the fimp'ring maid.
The Graces danc'd before the fair;
And white-rob'd Innocence was there.
The trees with golden fruits were crown'd,
And rifing flow'rs adorn'd the ground;
The fun difplay'd each brighter ray,
And fhone in all the pride of day:

When Slander ficken'd at the fight,
And fculk'd away to fhun the light.

§ 112. Vilion II. Pleasure. HEAR, ye fair mothers of our ifle, Nor fcorn your Poct's homely ftyle. What tho' my thoughts be quaint or new, I'll warrant that my doctrine 's true: Or, if my fentiments be old, Remember truth is fterling gold.

You judge it of important weight, To keep your rifung offspring ftraight;

Xerxes, king of Perfia, and fon of Darius. He invaded Greece with an army confifting of more than a million of men (fom fay more than two millions); who, together with their cattle, perished in a great meature through the inability of the countries to fupply fuch a vaft hoft with provifion. Hefperia includes Italy as well as Spain; and the inhabitants of both are remarkable for their revengeful difpoЯtions.

For

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