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And, fince thy choice is always free,
I blefs thee for thy fmiles on me.

When forrows fwell the tempeft high;
Thou, a kind port, art always nigh;
For aching hearts a fov'reign cure,
Not foft nepenthe half fo fure!
And, when returning comforts rife,
Thou the bright fun that gilds our fkies.
While thefe ideas warm'd my breast,
Wy weary eyelids stole to rest;
When fancy re-affum'd the theme,
And furnish'd this inftructive dream:
1 fail'd upon a formy fea
(Thousands embark'd alike with me);
My fkiff was fmall, and weak befide,
Not built, methought, to stem the tide.
The winds along the furges fweep,
The wrecks lie fcatter'd through the deep;
Aloud the foaming billows roar;
Unfriendly rocks forbid the fhore.

While all our various courfe pursue,
A fpacious ifle falutes our view:
Two queens with tempers diff'ring wide,
This new-difcover'd world divide:
A river parts their proper claim,
And Truth its celebrated name.

One fide a beauteous tract of ground
Prefents, with living verdure crown'd:
The feafons temp'rate, foft, and mild,
And a kind fun that always fmil'd:
Few ftorms moleft the natives here:
Cold is the only ill they fear.
This happy cline and grateful foil,
With plenty crowns the labourer's toil.

Here Friendship's happy kingdom grew:
Her realms were finall, her fubje&is few :
A thousand charins the palace grace;
A rock of adamant its base.

Tho' thunders roll, and lightnings fly.
This ftructure braves th' inclement sky:
E'en time which other piles devours,
And mocks the pride of human pow'rs,
Partial to Friendship's pile alone,
Cements the joints, and binds the stone:
Ripens the beauties of the place,
And calls to life each latent grace.

Around the throne in order ftand,
Four Amazons, a trufty band!
Friends ever faithful to advife,
Or to defend when dangers rife.
Here Fortitude, in coat of mail t
There Juice Kits her golden fcale:
Two hardy chiefs, who perfevere,
With form erect, and brow fevere:
Who fmile at perils, pains, and death,
And triumph with their lateft breath,
Temp'rance, that comely matron's near,
Guardian of all the virtue's here:
Adorn'd with ev'ry blooming grace.
Without one wrinkle in her face.

But Prudence most attracts the fight,
And fhines pre-eminently bright.
To view her various thoughts that rife,
She holds a mirror to her eyes;
The mirror, faithful to its charge,
Reflects the virgin's foul in large.

A Virtue with a fofter air

Was handmaid to the regal fair.
This nymph, indulgent, conftant, kind,
Derives from Heaven her fpotlefs mind;
When actions wear a dubious face,
Puts the beft meaning on the cafe ;
She fpreads her arms, and bares her breast,
Takes in the naked and diftrefs'd;
Prefers the hungry orphan's crics,
And from her queen obtains fupplies.
The maid, who acts this lovely part,
Grafp'd in her hand a bleeding heart.
Fair Charity, be thou my gncit,
And be thy conftant couch my breaft!
But virtues of inferior name
Crowd round the throne with equal claim;
In Loyalty by none furpafs'd,

They hold allegiance to the la.
Not ancient records e'er can show
That one deferted to the foe.

The river's other fide display'd
Alternate plots of flow'rs and thade,
Where poppies fhone with vadious hue,
Where yielding willows plenteous grew:
And humble plants †, by trav'ilers thought
With flow but certain polon fraught.
Beyond thefe fcenes the eye defcried
A pow'rful realm exten led wide;
Whole bound'ries from north-east begun,
And ftretch'd to meet the fouth-welt fun.
Here Flatt'ry boasts defpotic sway,
And bafks in all the warmth of day.

Long practis'd in Deception's school, The tyrant knew the arts to rule; Elated with th' imperial robe, She plans the conqueft of the globe; And, aided by her fervile trains, Leads kings, and fons of kings, in chains. Her darling minifter is Pride (Who ne'er was known to change his fide), A friend to all her int'refts juft, And active to difcharge his trust; Carefs'd alike by high and low, The idol of the belle and beau: In ev'ry fhape he fhews his fkill, And forms her fubjects to his will; Enters their houfes and their hearts, And gains his point before he parts, Sure never minifter was known So zealous for his fov'reign's throne! Three fifters, fimilar in mien, Were maid of honour to the queen; Who farther favours fhar'd befide, As daughters of her flitefman, Pride.

Nepenthe is an herb which, being infufed in wine, difpels grief. It is unknown to the mode I fome bekeve it a kind of opium, and others take it for a fpecies of buglofs, Plin. xvi. 21. f. & X\\ The Lumble plant bends down before the touch, as the fenfitive plant fhrin... from the tou Cat by fome to be the flow poifon of the Indians.

The Conceit, with tow'ring creft,
What with fcorn upon the rest;
mark, nor lefs, I deem,
it in her own efteem.
Afectation, fair and young,

old accents on her tongue; thapes, and various face, dey aative grace.

The Verity, a wanton maid,

aru iels and brocade;

"Pa clome, and wild, Petakets of a child. The oval to the queen,

tament in their mien; That they homage paid, met le who moit obey'd; who fought their own applause, at their lov'reign's caufe. wee fraught with guile;

Pinners diffopote and vile; - br, like Pagans, run e the rising fun.

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ne Cam'rous founds arife,
ag vilion nies.
sclos'd my eyes to fleep,
maginary deep;
the helm,

back to Friendship's realm.
#ia horror I relate

Pontons of her frate;

ct could hardly more

*wn deplore.

w thofe fairer plains
55, where Friendthip reigns:
er neighbour's faine,
gain the fame,
And int'reat fir'd,
oziom fie afpir'd.
aag open foe,
tome mighty blow;
Tes on the green,
Date the queen

tre hofts withilood,
Adable flood:

a d deep, and clear;
fudud, no ferries near,
tors approach'd the waves,
theuland graves;
*aith Lutte extreme,
- at the dang`rous Itream.
the call explores;

ge, and joins the fhores,
tor and prevails,
prowats fails:

**y pallage find,

ws clote behind.

ath ardour charg`d her foes,

cht promiicuous grows;

rew a bullon'd dart,

e empacts to the heart. mound were teen

As about the queen.

AP no Brilo.

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The tyrant ftripp'd the mangled fair;
She wore her fpoils, affum'd her air;
And, mounting next the fufferer's throne,
Claim'd the queen's titles as her own,

Ah, injur'd maid!' aloud I cried;
Ah, injur'd maid!' the rocks replied.
But judge my griefs, and fhare them too,
For the fad tale pertains to you:
Judge, reader, how fevere the wound,
When Friendship's foes were mine, I found;
When the fad fcene of pride and guile
Was Britain's poor degen'rate isle!

The Amazons, who propp'd the state,
Haply furvey'd the gen'ral fate.
Juftice to Powis Houfe is fied,
And Yorke fuftains her radiant head,
The virtue, Fortitude, appears
In open day at Ligonier's;
Illuftrious heroine of the iky,
Who leads to vanquish or to die!
'Twas the our vet rans breafts infpir'd,
When Belgia's faithleis fons retir'd:
For Tournay's treacherous tow'rs can tell
Britannia's children greatly fell.

No partial Virtue of the plain!

She rous'd the lions of the main :
Hence Vernon's little fleet fucceeds *,
And hence the gen'rous Cornwall bleeds +.
Hence Grenville glorious !-for the fmil'd
On the young hero from a child.

Tho' in high life fuch virtues dwell,
The Il fuit plebeian breafts as well.
Say, that the mighty and the great
Blaze, like meridian funs of state;
Effulgent excellence difplay,
Like Hallifax, in floods of day;
Our leffer orbs may pour their light,
Like the mild crefcent of the night.
Tho' pale our beams, and fmall our sphere,
Still we may thine ferene and clear.

Give to the judge the scarlet gown;
To martial fouls the civic crown:
What then? Is merit their's alone?
Have we no worth to call our own?
Shall we not vindicate our part
In the firm breaft and upright heart?
Reader, thefe virtues may be thine,
Tho' in fuperior life they fhine.

I can't difcharge great Hardwicke's truft;
True-but my foul may still be just;
And tho' I can't the ftate defend,
I'll draw the fword to ferve my friend,
Two golden virtues are behind,
Of equal import to the mind;
Prudence, to point out Wisdom's way,
Or to reclaim us when we ftray;
Temp'rance, to guard the youthful heart,
When Vice and Folly throw the dart;
Each virtue, let the world agree,
Daily refides with you and me,
And when our fouls in friendship join,
We'll deem the focial bond divine;

Died in a late engagement with the French fleet.

the combined fleets of France and Spain.

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Thro' ev'ry scene maintain our truk, Nor e'er be timid or unjuft.

For when the fun deferts the skies,
And the dull winter evenings rise,
throne,Then for a husband's focial pow'r
To form the calm, converfive hour;
The treasures of thy breaft explore,
From that rich mine to draw the ore:
Fondly each gen'rous thought refine,
And give thy native gold to fhine;
Shew thee, as really thou art,
Tho' fair, yet fairer still at heart.

That breast, where Honour builds his
That breaft, which Virtue calls her own,
Nor Int'reit warps, nor Fear appals,
When Danger frowns, or Lucre calls.
No! the true friend collected ftands,
Fearless his heart, and pure his hands:
Let Int'reft plead, let storms arife,
He dares be honeft, tho' he dies!

Say, when life's purple bloffoms fade, As foon they muft, thou charming maid!

§ 117. Vision VII. Marriage. Infcribed to When in thy cheek the rofes die,

Mifs **

FAIREST, this Vition is thy due;
I form'd th' inftructive plan for you.
Slight not the rules of thoughful age;
Your welfare actuates every page;
But ponder well my facred theme,
And tremble while you read my dream.
Thefe awful words, till death do part,'
May well alarm the youthful heart :
No after-thought when once a wife,
The die is caft, and caft for life;
Yet thousands venture ev'ry day.
As fome bafe paffion leads the way.
Pert Sylvia talks of wedlock fcenes,
Tho' hardly enter'd on her teens;
Smiles on her whining fpark, and hears
The fugar'd fpeech with raptur'd ears;
Impatient of a parent's rule,

She leaves her fire, and weds a fool.
Want enters at the guardless door,
And Love is fled, to come no more.

Some few they are of fordid mould,
Who barter youth and bloom for gold,
Careless with what or whom they mate;
Their ruling passion 's all for ftate,
But Hymen, gen'rous, juft, and kind,
Abhors the mercenary mind;
Such rebels groan beneath his rod;
For Hymen's a vindictive god:

Be joyless ev'ry night,' he faid;
And barren be their nuptial bed!'
Attend, my fair, to widom's voice;
A better fate fhall crown thy choice.
A married life, to speak the best,
Is all a lottery confest:

Yet, if my fair one will be wife,
I will infure my girl a prize.
Tho' not a prize to match thy worth:
Perhaps thy equal 's not on earth!

'Tis an important point, to know
There's no perfection here below.
Man 's an odd compound, after all;
And ever has been fince the fall.
Say, that he loves you from his foul,
Still man is proud, nor brooks controul;
And tho' a flave in love's soft school,
In wedlock claims his right to rule.
The beft, in fhort has faults about him;
If few thofe faults, you must not flout him.
With fome, indeed, you can't difpenfe,
As want of temper and of fente:

And fickness clouds that brilliant eye;
Say, when or age or pains invade,
And those dear limbs shall call for aid;
If thou art fetter'd to a fool,

Shall not his tranfient paffior cool?
And, when thy health and beauty end,
Shall thy weak mate persist a friend?
But to a man of fenfe, my dear,
E'en then thou lovely fhalt appear;
He 'll fhare the griefs that wound thy hea
And, weeping, claim the larger part:
Tho' age impairs that beauteous face,
He 'll prize the pearl beyond its cafe.
In wedlock when the fexes meet,
Friendship is only then complete.
Blefs'd itate! where fouls each other dr
Where love is liberty and law!'
The choiceft bleffing found below,
That man can with, or Heaven bestow!
Trust me, these raptures are divine,
For lovely Chloe once was mine!
Nor fear the varnish of my style;
Tho' poet, I'm eftrang'd to guile.
Ah me! my faithful lips impart
The genuine language of my heart!

When bards extol their patrons high,
Perhaps 'tis gold extorts the lie;
Perhaps the poor reward of bread-
But who burns incenfe to the dead?
He, whom a fond affection draws,
Careless of cenfure or applaufe;
Whose foul is upright and fincere,
With nought to with and nought to fear.
Now to my vifionary scheme
Attend, and profit by my dream.
Amidit the flumbers of the night,
A ftately temple rose to fight;
And ancient as the human race,
If Nature's purposes you trace:
This fane, by all the wife rever'd,
To wedlock's pow'rful god was rear'd.
Hard by I faw a graceful fage,
His locks were frofted o'er by age;
His garb was plain, his mind ferene,
And wifdom dignified his mien.
With curious fearch his name I fought,
And found 'twas Hymen's fav'rite, Thoug
Apace the giddy crowds advance,
And a lewd fatyr led the dance.

I griev'd to fee whole thousands run, For oh! what thoufands were undone!

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in thefe mad troops he spied,
join their fide:
arted pairs began

at him to a man; were trangers to his name, whence the dotard came. Lx the fequel—for this truth tems impetuous youth. Money moon could wane, u'd on ev'ry twain;

, and all day long, ed her icorpion thong: there with frowning mien, wwward cid of ipleen.

nach'd his awful fane,
anum rous train.
ich foft and nameless grace,
nour and in place:
agd, with folemn gait,
****rd was big with fate;
tring taner bore,

moi, fam'd of yore.
d with every charm,
gal's incumbent arm;
d the glowing scene
es of eighteen.
y fmiling fair;
wav'd in air;

hunks, walk'd hobbling nigh,

da and eagle-eye,

. years had ieen, or more
44 had feen a score):
etch, tho' clad in rags,
pon his bags.
r arts difplay'd;
at the maid:

tho' great thy fame),
All to draw the fame;
pow'r is more
was before.

A. Virs Emma brown;
$ the changing flow'r,
d ev'ry hour.

is cygnet's down,

-you know the fair, wa, and fets your hair. mounts his throne of state, ter of fate : **ant glories dreft, 4 un Virtue's breast. tation on the right: with golden light: 4 the fecond place, gui'd grace; ceremonial joy,

1 to the boy;

point his dirt, Juge to the heart; d's inferior hond Otsin'd their stand. w'd rites proceed, and heat-trings bleed. trembling bride, n'd her fide;

Averse the turn'd her weeping face,
And fhudder'd at the cold embrace.

But various baits their force impart;
Thus titles lie at Celia's heart.
A paffion much too foul to name,
Cofts fupercilious prudes their fame:
Prudes wed to publicans and finners;
The hungry poet weds for dinners,
The god with frown indignant view'd
The rabble covetous or lewd;
By ev'ry vice his altar ftain'd,
By ev'ry fool his rites profan'd:
When Love complain'd of Wealth aloud,
Affirming Wealth debauch'd the crowd;
Drew up in form his heavy charge,
Defiring to be heard at large.

The god confents, the throng divide, The young efpous'd the plaintiff's fide; The old declar'd for the defendant, For age is money's fworn attendant.

Love faid, that wedlock was defign'd
By gracious Heaven to match the mind;
To pair the tender and the juft,
And his the delegated truft:
That Wealth had play'd a knavish part,
And taught the tongue to wrong the heart.
But what avails the faithlefs voice?

The injur'd heart difdains the choice.

Wealth ftraight replied, that Love was blind,
And talk'd at random of the mind:
That killing eyes, and bleeding hearts,
And all th' artillery of darts,
Were long ago exploded fancies,
And laugh'd at even in romances.
Poets indeed ftyle love a treat,
Perhaps for want of better meat:
And love might be delicious fare,
Could we, like poets, live on air.
But grant that angels feaft on love
(Thofe purer effences above),
Yet Albion's fons, he understood,
Preferr'd a more fubßantial food.
Thus while with gibes he drefs'd his caufe,
His grey admirers hemm'd applause.
With feeming conqueft pert and proud,
Wealth thook his fides, and chuckled loud;
When Fortune, to reftrain his pride,
And fond to favour Love befide,
Op'ning the mifer's tape-tied velt,

Difclos'd the cares which itung his breaft:
Wealth food abafh'd at his difgrace,
And a deep crimson flush'd his face.
Love fweetly fimper'd at the fight;
gay adherents laugh'd outright.
The god, tho' grave his temper, fmil'd;
For Hymen dearly priz'd the child.
But he who triumphs o'er his brother,
In turn is laugh'd at by another.
Such cruel fcores we often find
Repaid the criminal in kind:
For Poverty, that famih'd fiend!
Ambitions of a wealthy friend,
Advanc'd into the miler's place,
And ftar'd the ftripling in the face;


Whofe lips grew pale, and cold as clay:
I thought the chit would fwoon away.
The god was ftudious to employ
His cares to aid the vanquith'd boy:
And therefore iffued his decree,
That the two parties ftraight agree:
When both obey'd the god's commands,
And Love and Riches join'd their hands.
What wond'rous change in each was wrought,
Believe me, fair, furpafles thought.

If Love had many charms before,
He now had charms ten thousand more:
If Wealth had ferpents in his breast,
They now were dead, or lull'd to rest.
Beauty, that vain, affected thing,
Who join'd the hymeneal ring,
Approach'd, with round unthinking face;
And thus the trifler ftates her cafe:

She faid that Love's complaints, 'twas known,
Exactly tallied with her own:

That Wealth had learn'd the felon's arts,
And robb'd her of a thoufand hearts;
Defiring judgment against Wealth,
For falfehood, perjury, and ftealth:
All which the could on oath depofe;
And hop'd the court would flit his nofe.
But Hymen, when he heard her name,
Call'd her an interloping dame;
Look'd through the crowd with angry state,
And blam'd the porter at the gate
For giving entrance to the fair,
When the was no effential there.
To fink.this haughty tyrant's pride,
He order'd Fancy to prefide.
Hence, when debates on beauty rife,
And each bright fair difputes the prize,
To Fancy's court we ftraight apply,
And wait the fentence of her eye;
In beauty's realms the holds the feals,
And her awards preclude appeals.

§ 118. Vifion VIII. Life.
LET not the young my precepts fhua;
Who flight good counfels are undone.
Your poet fung of love's delights,
Of halcyon days and joyous nights;
To the gay fancy lovely themes;

And fain I'd hope they 're more than dreams.
But, if you pleafe, before we part,
I'd fpeak a language to your heart.
We 'll talk of Life, tho' much I fear
Th' ungrateful tale will wound your ear.
You raife your fanguine thoughts too high,
And hardly know the reafon why:
But fay, Life's tree bears golden fruit,
Some canker fhall corrode the root;
Some unexpected storm fhall rife,
Or fcorching funs, or chilling skies;
And (if experienc'd truths avail)
All your autumnal hopes thall fail.

But, poet, whence fuch wide extremes?
Well may you ftyle your labours dreams.
A fon of forrow thou, I ween,
Whofe Vifions are the brats of Spleen.

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Is blifs vague, unmeaning name?
Speak then the paffions' ufe or aim;
Why rage defires without controul,
And roufe fuch whirlwinds in the foul?
Why Hope erects her tow'ring creft,
And laughs and riots in the breaft?
Think not my weaker brain turns round
Think not I tread on fairy ground;
Think not your pulfe alone beats true-
Mine makes as healthful mufic too.
Our joys, when Life's foft fpring we tract
Put forth their early buds apace.

See the bloom loads the tender fhoot;
The bloom conceals the future fruit.
'Yes, manhood's warm meridian fun
Shall ripen what in fpring begun.
Thus infant rofes, ere they blow,
In germinating clusters grow;
And only wait the fummer's ray,
To burft, and bloffom to the day.'
What faid the gay unthinking boy?
Methought Hilario talk'd of joy!
Tell, if thou canft, whence joys arife,
Or what thofe mighty joys you prize.
You 'll find (and truit fuperior years)
The vale of life a vale of tears.
Could wifdom teach where joys abound,
Or riches purchafe them when found,
Would fceptred Solomon complain
That all was fleeting, falfe, and vain?
Yet fceptred Solomon could fay,
Returning clouds obicur'd his day.
Thofe maxims, which the preachier drew,
The royal fage experienc'd true.
He knew the various ills that wait
Our infant and meridian ftate;
That toys our earliest thoughts engage,
And diff'rent toys maturer age;
That grief at ev'ry ftage appears,
But diff'rent griefs at diff'rent years;
That vanity is feen, in part,
Infcrib'd on ev'ry human heart;
In the child's breaft the fpark began,
Grows with his growth, and glares in ma
But when in life we journey late,
If follies die, do griefs abate?
Ah! what is life at fourfcore years? [and t
One dark, rough road, of fighs, groans,
Perhaps you'll think I act the fa ne
As a fly fharper plays his game:
You triumph ev'ry deal that 's past,
He 's fure to triumph at the laft!
Who often wins fome thoufands more
Than twice the fums you won before.
But I'm a lofer with the reft;
For life is all a deal at beft,

Where not the prize of wealth or fame
Repays the trouble of the game-
(A truth no winner e'er denied.
An hour before that winner died).
Not that with me thefe prizes fhine;
For neither fame nor wealth is mine.
My cards, a weak plebeian band,
With fcarce an honour in my hand!

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