What is fame? an empty bubble;
Gold? a tranfient, fhining trouble.
Let them for their country bleed,
What was SIDNEY'S, RALEIGH's meed?
Man's not worth a moment's pain,
Base, ungrateful, fickle, vain.
Then let me, fequefter'd fair,
To your fibyl grot repair;
On yon hanging cliff it ftands,
Scoop'd by nature's falvage hands,
Bofom'd in the gloomy fhade
Of cyprefs not with age decay'd.
Where the owl ftill hooting fits,
Where the bat inceffant flits,
There in loftier ftrains I'll fing
Whence the changing feafons fpring,
Tell how ftorms deform the fkies,
Whence the wave fubfide and rife,
Trace the comet's blazing tail,
Weigh the planets in a fcale;
Bend, great God, before thy fhrine,
The bournlefs macocrofm's thine.
Save me! what's yon shrouded shade?
That wanders in the dark-brown glade.
It beckons me!-vain fears adieu,
Myfterious ghoft, I follow you.
Ah me! too well that gait I know,
My youth's first friend, my manhood's woe!
Its breaft it bares' what! ftain'd with blood?
Quick let me ftanch the vital flood.
Oh fpirit, whither art thou flown?
Why left me comfortless alone?
O SOLITUDE, on me bestow
The heart-felt harmony of woe,
Such-fuch, as on th' Aufonian fhore,
Sweet Dorian Mofchus trill'd of yore:
No time fhould cancel thy defert,
More-more, than Bion was, thou wert.
O goddess of the tearful eye,
The never-ceafing stream supply.
Let us with retirement go
To charnels, and the houfe of woe,
O'er friendship's hearfe low-drooping mourn,
Where the fickly tapers burn,
Where death and nun-clad forrow dwell,
And nightly ring the folemn knell.
The gloom difpels, the charnel fmiles,
Light flashes through the vaulted aisles;
Blow filky foft, thou western gale,
O goddefs of the defert, hail!
She burfts from yon cliff-riven cave,
Infulted by the wint'ry wave;
Her brow an ivy-garland binds,
Her treffes wanton in the winds,
A lion's fpoils, without a zone,
Around her limbs are careless thrown;
Her right hand wields a knotted mace,
Her eyes roll wild, a ftride her pace;
Her left a magic mirror holds,
In which the oft herfelf beholds.
O goddess of the defert, hail!
And fofter blow, thou weftern gale!
Since in each scheme of life I've fail'd,
And disappointment seems entail'd;
Since all on earth I valued most,
My guide, my stay, my friend is loft;
You, only you, can make me bleft,
And hufh the tempeft in my breaft.
Then gently deign to guide my feet,
To your hermit-trodden feat,
Where I may live at last my own,
Where I at last may die unknown.
I fpoke, the turn'd her magic ray,
And thus fhe faid, or feem'd to fay:
Youth, you're mistaken, if you think to find In fhades a med'cine for a troubled mind; Wan grief will haunt you wherefoe'er you go, Sigh in the breeze, and in the ftreamlet flow,
There pale IN ACTION pines his life away,
And, fatiate, curfes the return of day:
There naked FRENZY, laughing wild with pain,
Or bares the blade, or plunges in the main:
There SUPERSTITION broods o'er all her fears,
And yells of demons in the zephyr hears.
But if a hermit you're refolv'd to dwell,
And bid to focial life a laft farewell;
Tis impious.-
God never made an independent man,
Twould jarr the concord of his general plan:
See every part of that flupendous whole,
"Whose body nature is, and God the foul;"
To one great end, the general good confpire,
From matter, brute, to inan, to feraph, fire.
Should man, through nature folitary roam,
His will his fovereign, everywhere his home,
What force wou'd guard him from the lion's jaw!
What fwiftnefs wing him from the panther's paw?
Or fhould fate lead him to fome fafer fhore,
Where panthers never prowl, nor lions roar;
Where liberal nature all her charms beftows,
Suns fhine, birds fing, flowers bloom and water flows,
Fool, doft thou think he'd revel on the ftore,
Abfolve the care of heaven, nor ask for more?
Though waters flow'd, flow'rs bloom'd, and Phobus
fhone,
He'd figh, he'd murmur, that he was alone.
For know, the Maker on the human breast,
A fenfe of kindred, country, man, impreft;
And focial life to better, aid, adorn,
With proper faculties each mortal's born.
Though nature's works the ruling mind declare,
And well deferve inquiry's serious care,
The God (whate'er mifanthropy may fay)
Shines, beams in man with most unclouded
What boots it thee to fly from pole to pole?
Hang o'er the fun, and with the planets roll?
What boots, through space's furtheft bourns to roam ?
If thou, O man, a ftranger art at home?
Then know thyfelf, the human mind survey,
The ufe, the pleasure will the toil repay.
Hence infpiration plans his manner'd lays,
Hence Homer's crown, and Shakspeare hence thy
bays.
Hence he, the pride of Athens and the shame,
The beft and wifeft of mankind became.
Nor ftudy only, practise what you know,
Your life, your knowledge, to mankind you owe.
With Plato's olive-wreath the bays entwine:
Thofe who in ftudy, fhou'd in practice shine.
When freedom gafp'd beneath a Cæfar's feet,
Then public virtue might to fhades retreat;
But where the breathes, the least may useful be,
And freedom, Britain, ftill belong to thee.
On each condition disappointments wait,
Enter the hut, and force the guarded gate.
Nor dare repine, though early friendship bleed,
From love, the world, and all its cares he's freed.
But know, adverfity's the child of God;
Whom heaven approves of most must feel her rod.
When fmooth old ocean and each storm's afleep,
Then ignorance may plough the watery deep;
But when the demons of the tempeft rave,
Skill muft conduct the veffel through the wave.
SIDNEY, what good man envies not thy blow?
Who would not with ANYTUS for a foe?
Intrepid virtue triumphs over fate,
The good can never be unfortunate.
And be this maxim graven in thy mind-
The height of virtue is to ferve mankind.
But when old age has filver'd o'er thy head,
When memory fails, and all thy vigour's fled,
Then may'ft thou feek the ftillnefs of retreat,
Then hear aloof the human tempeft beat,
Then will I greet thee to my woodland cave,
Allay the pangs of age, and fmooth thy grave.
DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whofe iron fcourge, and torturing hour,
The bad affright, amidst the best!
Bound in thy adamantine chain
The proud are taught to tafte of pain,
And purple tyrants vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied, and alone.
When firft thy fire to fend on earth
VIRTUE, his darling child, defign'd,
To thee he gave the heavenly birth,
And bade to form her infant mind.
Stern rugged nurfe; thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore:
What forrow was, thou bad'ft her know,
And from her own fhe learn'd to melt at others woe.
Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly
Self-pleafing folly's idle brood,
Wild laughter, noife, and thoughtless joy,
And leave us leifure to be good.
Light they difperfe, and with them go
The fummer friend, the flattering foe;
By vain profperity receiv'd,
To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd.
WISDOM, in fable garb array'd,
Immers'd in rapturous thought profound,
And MELANCHOLY, filent maid,
With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
Still on thy folemn steps attend :
Warm CHARITY, the general friend,
With JUSTICE, to herself fevere,
And PITY, dropping foft the fadly-pleafing tear.
Oh, gently on thy fuppliant's head,
Dread goddefs, lay thy chaftening hand!
Not in thy gorgon terrors clad,
Nor circled with the vengeful band
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