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Loud Sorrows howl, invenom'd Paffions bite,
Rav'nous Calamities our Vitals feize,
And threat'ning Fate wide opens to devour.
What then am I, who forrow for myself?
In Age, in Infancy, from others Aid
Is all our Hope; to teach us to be kind.
That, Nature's firft, laft Leffon to Mankind;
The felfish Heart deferves the Pain it feels.
More gen'rous Sorrow, while it finks, exalts;
And confcious Virtue mitigates the Pang.
Nor Virtue, more than Prudence, bids me give
Swoln Thought a fecond Channel; who divide,.
They weaken too, the Torrent of their Grief..
'Take then, Q World! thy much-indebted Tear :
How fad a Sight is human Happiness,

To those whofe Thought can pierce beyond an Hour ?
O thou, whate'er thou art, whose Heart exults!
Wouldst thou I should congratulate thy Fate ?

I know thou wouldst; thy Pride demands it from me.
Let thy Pride pardon, what. thy Nature needs,
The falutary Cenfure of a Friend..

Thou happy Wretch! by Blindness thou art bleft;:

By Dotage dandled to perpetual Smiles..
Know, Smiler! at thy Peril art thou pleas'd;,
Thy Pleasure is the Promife of thy Pain.
Misfortune, like a Creditor fevere,
But rifes in Demand for her Delay;
She makes a Scourge of past Profperity,
To fting thee more, and double thy Distress.
LORENZO, Fortune makes her Court to thee.
Thy fond Heart dances, while the Syren .fings..
Dear is thy Welfare; think me not unkind;,
I would not damp,, but to fecure thy Joys.
Think not that Fear is facred to the Storm..
Stand on thy Guard against the Smiles of Fate..

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Is Heav'n tremendous in its Frowns? Moft fure;
And in its Favours formidable too ::

Its Favours here are Trials, not Rewards ;
A Call to Duty, not Discharge from Care;:
And should alarm us, full as much as Woes;
Awake us to their Caufe, and Confequence;
And make us tremble, weigh'd with our Desert;
Awe Nature's Tumult, and chastise her Joys,
Left while we clafp, we kill them; nay, invert
To worse than fimple Mifery, their Charms.
Revolted Joys, like Foes in civil War,
Like bofom Friendships to Refentment four'd,
With Rage invenom'd rise against our Peace.
Beware what Earth calls Happiness; beware
All Joys, but Joys that never can expire.
Who builds on lefs than an immortal. Bafe,
Fond as he feems, condemns his Joys to Death.

Mine dy'd with thee, PHILANDER! thy laft Sigh Diffolv'd the Charm ; the difinchanted Earth Loft all her Luftre. Where, her glitt'ring Towers ?: Her golden Mountains, where? all darken'd down To naked Wafte; a dreary Vale of Tears The great Magician's dead! Thou poor, pale Piece Of out-caft Earth, in Darkness!. what a Change. From Yesterday! Thy darling Hope so near, (Long-labour'd Prize!) Q how Ambition flush'de Thy glowing Cheek! Ambition, truly great, Of virtuous Praife. Death's fubtle Seed within, (Sly, treach'rous Miner!) working in the Dark, Smil'd at thy well-concerted Scheme, and beckon'd The Worm to riot on that Rose so red, Unfaded ere it fell; one Moment's Prey! Man's Forefight is conditionally wife; LORENZO! Wisdom into Folly turns Oft, the firft Inftant, its Idea fair B.. 6

To

To labouring Thought is born. How dim our Eye!
The present Moment terminates our Sight;

Clouds, thick as thofe on Doomsday, drown the next;
We penetrate, we prophesy in vain.

Time is dealt out by Particles; and each,

Ere mingled with the ftreaming Sands of Life,
By Fate's inviolable Oath is fworn

Deep Silence, "Where Eternity begins."

By Nature's Law, what may be, may be now;
There's no Prerogative in human Hours.
In human Hearts what bolder Thought can rise,
Than Man's Prefumption on To-morrow's Dawn
Where is To-morrow? In another World.
For Numbers this is certain; the Reverse
Is fure to none; and yet on this Perhaps,
This Peradventure, infamous for Lyes,
As on a Rock of Adamant we build

Our Mountain Hopes; fpin our eternal Schemes,
As we the fatal Sifters would out-fpin,
And, big with Life's Futurities, expire.

Not ev❜n PHILANDER had bespoke his Shroud.
Nor had he Caufe; a Warning was deny'd :
How many fall as fudden, not as fafe!
As fudden, tho' for Years admonish'd home.
Of human Ills the laft Extreme beware,
Beware, LORENZO! a flow-fudden Death.
How dreadful that deliberate Surprize!
Be wife To-day; "Tis Madness to defer;
Next Day the fatal Precedent will plead ;.
Thus on,
till Wisdom is push'd out of Life..
Procraftination is the Thief of Time;
Year after Year it steals, till all are fled,.
And to the Mercies of a Moment leaves
The vaft Concerns of an eternal Scene..

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If not fo frequent, would not This be strange?
That 'tis fo frequent, This is ftranger still.

Of Man's miraculous Mistakes, this bears
The Palm, “ That all Men are about to live,”
For ever on the Brink of being born.

All pay themselves the Compliment to think
They one Day fhall not drivel; and their Pride
On this Reversion takes up ready Praise;

At least their own; their future Selves applauds ;
How excellent that Life they ne'er will lead !
Time lodg'd in their own Hands is Folly's Vails;
That iodg'd in Fate's, to Wisdom they confign;
The Thing they can't but purpose, they poftpone
'Tis not in Folly, not to scorn a Fool;
And scarce in human Wisdom to do more.
All Promife is poor dilatory Man,

And that thro' ev'ry Stage: When young, indeed,
In full Content we, fometimes, nobly rest,
Un-anxious for ourselves; and only wish,

As duteous Sons, our Fathers were more wife.
At Thirty Man fufpects himself a Fool;

Knows it at Forty, and reforms his Plan;
At Fifty chides his infamous Delay,
Pushes his prudent Purpose to Refolve;
In all the Magnanimity of Thought
Refolves; and re-refolves; then dies the fame..

And why? Because he thinks himself immortal. All Men think all Men mortal, bat Themselves; Themselves, when fome alarming Shock of Fate Strikes through their wounded Hearts the fudden Dread; But their Hearts wounded, like the wounded Air, Soon close; where past the Shaft, no Trace is found.. As from the Wing no Scar the Sky retains ; The parted Wave no Furrow from the Keel; So dies in human Hearts the 'Thought of Death.

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Ev'n with the tender Tear which Nature sheds
O'er those we love, we drop it in their Grave.
Can I forget PHILANDER? That were strange;
Q my full Heart!But fhould I give it Vent,
The longest Night, tho' longer far, would fail,
And the Lark listen to my Midnight Song.

The fprightly Lark's fhrill Matin wakes the Morn
Grief's fharpeft Thorn hard preffing on my Breast,
I ftrive, with wakeful Melody, to chear.
The fullen Gloom, fweet Philomel! like Thee,
And call the Stars to liften: Ev'ry Star
Is deaf to mine, enamour'd of thy Lay.

Yet be not vain ; there are, who thine excel,
And charm thro' diftant Ages:: Wrapt in Shade,
Pris'ner of Darkness! to the filent Hours,

How often I repeat their Rage divine,

Strain !

To lull my Griefs, and fteal my Heart from Woe!
I roll their Raptures, but not catch their: Fire..
Dark, tho' not blind, like thee, Mæonides!
Or, Milton! thee; ah! could I reach your
Or His, who made Mæonides our Own.
Man too He fung: Immortal Man I.fing ;·
Oft burfts my Song beyond the Bounds of Life;
What, now, but Immortality can please?

had He prefs'd his Theme, purfu'd the Track, Which opens out of Darkness into Day!.

had he mounted on his Wing of Fire,

Soar'd, where I fink, and fung Immortal Man 1:
How had it bleft Mankind, and refcu'd me!

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