prime of life. Wisdom points out to you the "road to pleasure: Nature too beckens to you to "follow her in that smooth and flowry path. Will

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you shut your ears to their commanding voice? "Will you harden your heart to their foft allure"ments? Oh, deluded mortals, thus to lofe your youth; thus to throw away fo invaluable a pre"fent, to trifle with fo perishing a bleffing. Con

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template well your recompence. Confider that glory, which fo allures your proud hearts, and "feduces you with your own praises. 'Tis an "eccho, a dream, nay the fhadow of a dream, which is diffipated by every wind, and loft by

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every contrary breath of the ignorant and illjudging multitude. You fear not, that even. "death itself shall ravifh it from you. But behold! "while you are yet alive, calumny bereaves you "of it; ignorance neglects it; nature enjoys it "not; fancy alone, renouncing every pleafure, "receives this airy recompence, empty and unstable as herself."

THUS the hours pafs unperceiv'd along, and lead in their wanton train all the pleasures of sense, and all the joys of harmony and friendship. Smiling innocence clofes the proceffion; and while fhe presents herself to our ravish'd eyes, fhe embellishes the whole scene, and renders the view of these pleasures as tranfporting, after they have past us, as when, with laughing countenances, they were yet advancing towards us.

BUT

BUT the fun has funk below the horizon; and darknefs ftealing filently upon us, has now bury'd all nature in an universal shade. "Rejoice, my friends;

continue your repaft, or change it for foft repofe. "Tho' abfent, your joy or your tranquillity fhall "ftill be mine." But whither do you go? Or what new fleajures call you from our fociety? Is there aught agreeable without your friends? And can aught please, in which ave partake not?" Yes, my friends; the “joy, which I now feek, admits not of your parti"cipation. Here alone I wish your abfence: And here alone can I find a fufficient compenfation for "the lofs of your fociety."

BUT I have not advanc'd far thro' the fhades of the thick wood, which spreads a double night around me, e're, methinks, I perceive thro' the gloom, the charming Calia, the mistress of my wishes, who wanders impatient thro' the grove, and preventing the appointed hour, filently chides my tardy steps. But the joy, which the receives from my prefence, beft pleads my excufe; and diffipating every anxious and every angry thought, leaves room for nought but mutual joy and rapture. With what words, my fair one, fhall I exprefs my tendernefs, or defcribe the emotions which now warm my transported bosom! Words are too faint to describe my love; and if, alas! you feel not the fame flame within you, in vain shall I endeavour to convey to you a juft conception of it. But your every word and every motion fuffice to remove this doubt; and while they exprefs your paf

fion, ferve alfo to enflame mine. How amiable this folitude, this filence, this darkness! no objects now importune the ravish'd foul. The thought, the sense, all full of nothing but our mutual happiness, wholly poffefs the mind, and convey a pleasure, which deluded mortals vainly seek for in every other enjoyment.

BUT why does your bofom heave with these fighs, while tears bathe your glowing cheeks? Why diftra&t your heart with fuch vain anxieties? Why fo often ask me, How long my love shall yet endure? Alas, my Calia, Can I refolve this question? Do I know how long my life fhall yet endure? But does this alfo disturb your tender breast? And is the image of our frail mortality for ever prefent with you, to throw a damp on your gayeft hours, and poison even thofe joys which love infpires. Confider rather, that if life be frail, if youth be tranfitory, we should well employ the prefent moment, and lose no part of fo perishable an existence. Yet a little moment, and

thefe fhall be no more. We shall be, as if we had never been. Not a memory of us be left upon earth; and even the fabulous shades below will not afford us a habitation. Our fruitless anxieties, our vain projects, our uncertain speculations fhall all be swallow'd up and loft. Our prefent doubts, concerning the original caufe of all things, must never, alas! be refolv'd. This alone we may be certain of, that if any governing mind prefide over the univerfe, he must be pleas'd to fee us fulfil the ends of our being,

and

and enjoy that pleasure, for which alone we werc created. Let this reflection give ease to your anxious thoughts; but render not your joys too ferious, by dwelling for ever upon it. 'Tis sufficient, once, to be acquainted with this philofophy, in order to give an unbounded loose to love and jollity, and remove all the fcruples of a vain fuperftition: But while youth and paffion, my fair-one, prompt our eager defires, we muft find gayer fubjects of difcourfe, to intermix with these amorous careffes.

ESSAY

ESSAY

XIX.

The STOIC *.

THERE is this obvious and material difference

in the conduct of nature, with regard to man and other animals, that having endow'd the former with a fublime celeftial fpirit, and having given him an affinity with fuperior beings, fhe allows not fuch nable faculties to lye lethargic or idle; but urges him, by neceffity, to employ, on every emergence, his utmost art and induftry. Brute creatures have many of their neceffities fupply'd by nature, being cloath'd and arm'd by this beneficent parent of all things: And where their own indufry is requifite on any occafion, nature, by implanting instincts, still supplies them with the art, and guides them to their good, by her unerring precepts. But man, expos'd naked and indigent to the rude elements, rifes flowly from that helpless state, by the care and vigilance of his parents; and having attain'd his utmoft growth and perfection, reaches only a capacity of fubfifting, by his own care and vigilance. Every thing is fold to fkill and labour; and where nature furnishes the

* Qr the man of action and virtue.

materials,