IV.

* And fhould the shaft of treacherous fpleen Glance venom'd through this peaceful fcene, Unheeded may it fly.

Provok'd, not tempted to repay,

Tho' truth feverer prompt the lay,
A mean profaick lie.

V.

Here with the pheasant and the hare,
Unfearful of the human fnare,

Have ftatefmen pafs'd a day.
While far from yon forbidden gate,
Pale care and lank remorfe await

Their flow-returning prey.

VI.

O! blind to all the joys of life,

Who seek them in the ftorm of strife,

Deftroying, or destroy'd.

Lefs wretched they, and yet unblefs'd,

Who batten in lethargic reft,

But come, my friend, the fun invites,

For thee the town hath no delights,

Distasted and aggriev'd;

While fools believe, while villains cheat,

Too honeft to approve deceit,

Too wife to be deceiv'd.

a Alluding to a certain fcandalous libel.

VIII. Or

VIII.

Or doft thou fear left dire disease
Again thy tortur'd frame may feize?
And haft thou therefore stay'd?

O! rather hafte, where thou shalt find
A ready hand, a gentle mind,

To comfort and to aid.

IX.

And while by fore afflictions try'd,
You bear without the Stoic's pride,

O!

What Stoic never bore;

may

I learn like thee to bear,

And what shall be my deftin'd share,
To fuffer, not explore.

GENTLE, idle, trifling boy,

Sing of pleafures, fing of joy!

Well you paint the crystal spring,
Well the flow'ry meadow fing.

But beware with bolder flight,
Tempt not heaven's unequal height;

But beware! with impious ftrain,
Mock not virtue's hallow'd train!
Sacred, here, O! ever be

Heaven, and heaven-born liberty!
Let the flaves of lawless sway,
Let the ftupid flock obey!

Pent within a narrow fold,

Ty'd, and ftript, and flain, and fold.
Happier ftars the brave befriend,

Britons know a nobler end.
Theirs it is to temper laws,
Theirs to watch in freedom's cause,
Theirs one common good to share,
Theirs to feel one common care;
In the glorious task combin'd,
From the monarch to the hind.

Yet O! ceafe not gentle boy!
Sing of pleasures, fing of joy!
Like thy brothers of the wing,
Idly hop, and chirp, and fing.
Heaven can nothing vain produce,
Ev'ry creature has its use.

Thine it is to footh our toil,
Thine to make e'en wifdom fmile.
Much they err who fuch despise,
Trifles please the truly wife.

An

N Stow, the Muse's happy theme, Let fancy's eye enamour'd gaze; Where thro' one nobly simple scheme, Ten thousand varying beauties please. There patriot-virtue rears her fhrine, Nor love! art thou depriv'd of thine.

II.

Mark where from POPE's exhaustless vein,
Pure flows the ftream of copious thought,
While nature pours the genial ftrain,
With fairest springs of learning fraught;
The treasures of each clime and age,
Grace and enrich his facred page.

III.

So while thro' Britain's fields her Thames
Prolifick rolls his filver tide;

The tribute of a thousand ftreams

Swells the majestick river's pride; And where his gen'rous current ftrays, The wealth of either world conveys.

IV. Far

IV.

Far other, is that wretch's fong,
Whofe fcanty rill devoid of force,
With idle tinklings creeps along,

A narrow, crooked, dubious course;
Or foul with congregated floods,

Spreads a wide wafle o'er plains, and woods.

V.

In action thus the mind express'd

High foars in Pope the true fublime ;
A Stow unfolds a Cobham's breaft,
A Bavius crawls in doggrel rhyme.
Thro' all their various works we trace
The greatly virtuous, and the base.

An O D E.

By the Same.

I.

OO anxious for the publick weal,
Awhile fufpend the toilsome strife!

O think if Britain claims thy zeal,
Thy friends and Britain claim thy life!

II. Thy