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Alas! that art so seldom can deceive
The practiced eye; that credence is denied,
Where fond credulity would fain receive
The kind deception, eager to believe!
To me there was no acting there, no stage
Of paltry wood and canvass, in my view;
But Babylon's proud towers, Roxana's rage,
Hephestion, Clytus, all the poet drew,
Prince, courtier, lover, manhood, youth and age,
No quaint disguise, but real all and true.

II.

What seek ye here? Joy's evenescent bloom!

SMITH.

Such faith has pliant youth: I since have seen
Pierre, Jaffier, Belvidera's tender part,
The love of Juliet, Shylock's vengeful heart,
Pizarro, Zanga, Richard's sneering mein,

Hal, Falstaff, Quickly, Hotspur's fiery spleen,
Jaques, Hamlet, Macbeth, swart Othello's hue,
And Lear amid the storm: paid honor due

To Cook, to Keen, to Matthews' matchless art Of mimic nature; actors not a few,

Nor worthless seen; have felt the warm tear start,

In tragic passion; joined in laughter too,

Not less sincere: yet none could e'er impart

Feelings that equalled, in intense delight,
The wonders of that first undoubting night.

INDOLENCE.

I.

Here naught but candour reigns, indulgent ease,
Good natured lounging, sauntering up and down.

THOMPSON.

How soon, alas! impediments arise

In virtue's paths: the stripling that could dare Each adverse height, how sinks he in despair, At toils unseen, at labours that surprise, In mid career, his inexperienced eyes.

The stated tasks grow irksome; daily care, And nightly study health and hope impair, Till courage droops, and young ambition dies. Yet sink not so, fond youth! e'en now the chain Of sloth is round thee: siren Pleasure wins

Thy heart, yet virtuous, but to venal sins,

Mere freaks of youthful folly; but her reign, Though oft in harmless sport the course begins, Brings Vice full soon, with misery in her train.

II.

Nay, dally not with time, the wise man's treasure,
Though fools are lavish on't: the fatal Fisher
Hooks souls, while we waste moments.

SCOTT.

"Oh! call not Pleasure Vice; nor seek to balk
The flow of youthful feelings unabused :
The song, the dance, the bowl, infrequent used,
At friendly meetings, mid enlivening talk,

Thou need'st not sure condemn; nor evening walk,
Nor healthful morning ride, can be refused."
But is thy Homer studied, Horace scanned,
And Euclid demonstrated? Livy's page,
Plato, Demosthenes, do these engage
Thy earnest thought? Or hast thou nothing planned
But pleasure's idle pageant? Is the strife
For fame forgotten; and thy worthless life.
To end inglorious? Oh! in time withstand
The baneful fiend, ere yet by sloth unmanned.

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The world, perchance, my idleness might deem
A vice. It was not such, dear Bliss! with thee,
While unconstrained, in social pleasure free,
Our prime of joy was plunging in the stream,
At morn, or eve; or wandering o'er the lea,
Arm linked in arm. "Twas thus each loved retreat
We won delighted, with unwearied feet,

Each vale exploring, and each secret nook;
Fished on Fresh Pond, our light sail gaily spread;
Or roamed Mount Auburn, city of the dead,
Then wild, untenanted. While nature's book,
Spread wide before us, all its secrets told,
How idly busy life's bright currents rolled,

In streams of thought, that murmured like a brook.

II.

And we were canopied by the blue sky,
So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful,
That God alone was to be seen in heaven.

BYRON.

Deem not such hours mispent, though not confined
To formal study: Farrar's brow may frown,
And thoughtful Nichols note our absence down;
Yet haply, at such hour, the busy mind

Is working for itself the problem out

Of some deep truth, or solving subtle doubt. In these broad diagrams, by nature lined On hill and plain, the studious thought may find Solution that puts servile fear to rout.

On yonder bank, while basking in the sun,

How deeply hath the varied prospect wrought On our wrapt souls! how purified each thought, From low desire, from selfish feelings won, To virtue's lore, by liberal nature taught.

AMBITION.

His frame of mind was serious and severe,
Beyond his years: his dreams were of great objects.

WALLENSTEIN.

Yet loved I better, Bird! at times, with thee,

To watch, with kindling eye, the world of men, And frame high schemes of action; idle then, And haply ill advised; yet generous, free,

In pride of youth, that scorned servility,

And mocked at baseness. Oft, entranced, we dwelt On glowing annals of the olden time,

The Greek, or Roman, till our bosoms felt Congenial ardour; oft in thought sublime, Statesmen ourselves, or warriors! dealt the blow, In fancied combat with our country's foe, When tyrants menaced: nor less eager bent, In halls of state, on public cares intent, To rise supreme, and rule the crowd below!

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How different, yet not adverse, was the strain

Of tranquil hope, what time, day's labours o'er, I wandered oft, well pleased, along the plain, Stevens! with thee; indulging thoughts that soar, Humble, yet high, above ambition's aim.

The setting sun, and fading twilight wrought, Oft in our minds, oblivion of low thought, And selfish cares; till, kindling as it came,

Our hearts grew holy in devotion's flame.

Not cowled, nor cloistered, nor with venom fraught

Of fierce contentious zeal, or bigot pride,

Came mild Religion there; but robed in might

Of meek humility, and reason's light,

Our sorrow's comforter, and virtue's guide.

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