From angry Heaven when the keen lightning flies; Th' immortal foul fhares but a part of thee! Ah! what is life? with ills encompass'd round, Think all that treasure thou must leave behind; No more thy blood its straiten'd channels warm. The virtuous foul purfues a nobler aim, And life regards but as a fleeting dream: She longs to wake, and wishes to get free, To launch from earth into Eternity. For while the boundless theme extends our thought, Ten thousand thousand rolling years are nought. GAY. FALSE GREATNESS. MYLO, forbear to call him bleft Let a broad ftream with golden fands He's but a wretch, with all his lands, He fwells amidft his wealthy ftore, He spreads the balance wide to hold And cheats the beam with loads of gold So might the plough-boy climb a tree, Alas! how vain their fancies be, Thus mingled ftill with wealth and state, His true dimenfions and his weight Were I fo tall to reach the pole, Or grafp the ocean with my span, I must be meafur'd by my foul: The mind's the ftandard of the man. WATTS. REPUTATION. AN ALLEGORY. TO travel far as the wide world extends, Virtue fet forth, with two selected friends, As they went on in their intended round, Talent spoke first, "My gentle comrades, say, "Where each of you may probably be found, "Should accident divide us on the way. "If torn (fhe added) from my lov'd allies, "A friendly patronage I hope to find, "Where the fine arts from cultivation rife, "And the fweet Mufe hath harmoniz`d mankind." Says Virtue, "Did Sincerity appear, "Or meek-ey'd Charity among the great; "Could I find courtiers from corruption clear, ""Tis among these I'd feek for my retreat. "Could I find patriots for the public weal "In glitt'ring domes let luxury refide, "I must be found in fome fequefter'd cell, "Far from the paths of avarice or pride, "Where home-bred Happiness delights to dwell.", "Ye may be trac'd, my gentle friends, 'tis true; "But who (fays Reputation) can explore "My flipp'ry steps?-Keep, keep me in your view; "If once I'm loft, you'll never find me more." CUNNINGHAM. Maret. The 12 14 INVITATION TO THE FEATHERED WRITTEN AT CLAVERTON, NEAR BATH, AGAIN the balmy zephyr blows, Frefn verdure decks the grove; Each bird with vernal rapture glows, And tunes his notes to love. Ye gentle warblers, hither fly, Here freely hop from spray to spray, Here rove and fing the live-long day, |