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And with weak lights presumptuous scan
The springs which move predestin’d man.
And some there are, (accurs'd their art!)
Though all the Nine their charms impart,
Who in false forms of great and just,
Clothe av'rice, treachery, rage and lust:
As if superior beings suit

Those attributes which sink the brute.
But vainly chime the partial lays,
Chaste Fame rejects all spurious praise.
She, fairest offspring of the skies,
The goddess of the brave and wise,
Whose sacred impulse prompts the best
To succour and preserve the rest,
Is deaf to every private call,
And wakes but at the voice of all.

From heaps of ill-collected gain,
From hecatombs by heroes slain,
From courts, where guilty greatness dwells,
She flies to penury and cells;
With Erskine, pious exile, goes,
To sooth a drooping father's woes ;
Or mingling with the orphan-train,
She sings the bounties of Germain.
Nor pow'r, nor policy of state,
Can ever give intrinsic weight:
And should fallacious art display
O'er titled dross a golden ray,

Still baser through detecting years,
The speckled counterfeit appears.

But when from proof, fair issuing forth, The ore asserts its native worth; Then, sov'reign Bard, 'tis justly thine To stamp the well-attested coin; And consecrated with thy name, To treasure in the stores of Fame.



By the Same.

CLARINDA, dearly lov'd, attend
The counsels of a faithful friend;
Who with the warmest wishes fraught,
Feels all, at least, that friendship ought.
But since by ruling Heav'n's design,
Another's fate shall influence thine;
O! may these lines for him prepare
A bliss, which I would die to share!

Man may for wealth or glory roam, But woman must be blest at home; To this should all her studies tend, This her great object and her end. Distaste unmingled pleasures bring, And use can blunt affliction's sting; Hence perfect bliss no mortals know, And few are plung'd in utter woe; While nature arm'd against despair, Gives pow'r to mend, or strength to bear;

And half the thought content may gain, Which spleen employs to purchase pain.

Trace not the fair domestic plan,
From what you would, but what you can!
Nor, peevish, spurn the scanty store,
Because you think you merit more!
Bliss ever differs in degree,

Thy share alone is meant for thee;
And thou should'st think, however small,
That share enough, for 'tis thy all:
Vain scorn will aggravate distress,
And only make that little less.

Admit whatever trifles come, Units compose the largest sum: O! tell them o'er, and say how vain Are those which form ambition's train: Which swell the monarch's gorgeous state, And bribe to ill the guilty Great! But thou more blest, more wise than these, Shalt build up happiness on ease,

Hail sweet Content! where joy serene Gilds the mild soul's unruffled scene; And with blith fancy's pencil wrought, Spreads the white web of flowing thought; Shines lovely in the cheerful face,

And clothes each charm with native grace;

Effusion pure of bliss sincere,
A vestment for a god to wear.

Far other ornaments compose The garb that shrouds dissembled woes, Piec'd out with motley dies and sorts, Freaks, whimsies, festivals, and sports; The troubled mind's fantastic dress, Which madness titles happiness; While the gay wretch to revel bears The pale remains of sighs and tears: And seeks in crowds, like her undone, What only can be found in one,

But, chief, my gentle friend! remove
Far from thy couch seducing love!
O! shun the false magician's art,
Nor trust thy yet unguarded heart!
Charm'd by his spells fair honor flies,
And thousand treach'rous phantoms rise,
Where guilt in beauty's ray beguiles,
And ruin lurks in friendship's smiles.
Lol where th' enchanted captive dreams
Of warbling groves and purling streams;
Of painted meads, of flowers that shed
Their odors round her fragrant bed.
Quick shifts the scene, the charm is lost,
She wakes upon a desert coast!

No friendly hand to lend its aid,
No guardian bow'r to spread its shade;

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