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Enthusiast, go, try every sense,
Thou yet hast learn'd to scan;
That man was made for man.''
THE MAN OF SORROW.
BY MR. GREVILLE.
Ah! what avails the lengthening mead, By Nature's kindest bounty spread
Along the vale of flowers ! Ah! what avails the darkening grove, Or Philomel's melodious love,
That glads the midnight hours !
For me (alas !) the god of day
Nor night her comfort brings:
Nor Philomela sings.
See how the sturdy peasants stride,
In cheerful ignorance blest!
By gay Contentment drest,
Content, fair daughter of the skies,
Her choice divinely free:
Of Avarice and me.
But see-or is it Fancy's dream?
Shot sudden thro' the groves ;
More mild than Paphian doves !
Welcome, O! welcome, Pleasure's queen! And see, along the velvet green,
The jocund train advance : With scatter'd flowers they fill the air, The wood-nymph's dew-bespangled hair
Plays in the sportive dance.
Ah! baneful grant of angry Heaven
A soul alive to joy!
To cares, that Peace destroy.
And see, with visionary haste,
Reality remains !
And slackens still the reins.
Ten thousand beauties round me throng:
To the distemper'd soul?
With groans the waters roll,
Ye gilded roofs, Palladian domes,
Ye were for misery made-
Along th' unhallow'd shade.
THE MAN OF PLEASURE.
By the Same.
Yes, to the Sages be it told,
Fair Pleasure's my pursuit ;
And cull the flowers and fruit.
Sweep, sweep the lute's enchanting string And all thy sweets, lov'd Luxury, bring!
“ To enjoy is to obey;" The heavenly mandate still prevail, And let each unwise wretch bewail
The dire neglected day.
Ahl graceless wretch1 to disobey,
And slight the gods decree !
Indeed my heart is free.