Blindly he wanders in pursuit of vice,
And hates confinement, though in paradife;
Doom'd, when enlarg'd, inftead of Eden's bowers,
To rove in wilds, and gather thorns for flowers;
Between th' extremes, direct he fees the way,
Yet wilful fwerves, perverfely fond to stray !
Whilft niggard fouls indulge their craving thirst,
Rich without bounty, with abundance curst;
The Prodigal pursues expensive vice,
And buys dishonour at a mighty price;
On beds of state the fplendid glutton fleeps,
While starving merit unregarded weeps :
His ill-plac❜d bounty, while scorn'd virtue grieves,
A dog, a fawning fycophant, receives;
And cringing knaves, or haughty ftrumpets, share What would make forrow fmile, and chear defpair.
Then would'st thou steer where fortune spreads th fails?
Go, flatter vice! for feldom flattery fails :
Scft through the ear the pleafing bane diftills :
Delicious poifon! in perfumes it kills!
Be all, but virtuous: O! unwife to live
Unfashionably good, and hope to thrive ! *
Trees that aloft with proudest honours rife,
Root hell-ward, and thence flourish to the skies.
O happier thou, my friend, with ease content,
Bleft with the confcience of a life well spent !
Nor would't be great; but guide thy gather'd fails,
Safe by the fhore, nor tempt the rougher gales;
For fure, of all that feel the wounds of fate,
None are compleatly wretched but the great ;
Superior woes, fuperior ftations bring,
A peasant sleeps, while cares awake a king:
Who reigns, mult fuffer! crowns with gems inlaid
At once adorn and load the royal head :
Change but the scene, and kings in duft decay,
Swept from the earth the pageants of a day;
There no diftinctions on the dead await,
But pompous graves, and rottennefs in state;
Such now are all that fhone on earth before,
Cæfar and mighty Marlborough are no more!
Unhallow'd feet o'er awful Tully tread,
And Hyde and Plato join the vulgar dead;
And all the glorious aims that can employ
The foul of mortals, must with Hanmer die :
O Compton, when this breath we once refign,
My duft fhall be as eloquent as thine.
Till that last hour which calls me hence away that great arrear which all must pay; may I tread the paths which faints have trod, Who knew they walk'd before th' all-feeing God! Studious from ways of wicked men to keep, Who mock at vice, while grieving angels weep. Come, tafte, my friend the joys retirement brings, Look down on royal flaves, and pity kings.
More happy! laid where trees with trees entwin'd
In bowery arches tremble to the wind,
With innocence and fhade like Adam blest,
While a new Eden opens in the breast !
Such were the fcenes defcending angels trod
In guiltless days, when man convers'd with God.
Then shall my lyre to loftier founds be ftrung,
Inspir'd by * Homer, or what thou haft fung:
My Mufe from thine shall catch a warmer ray;
As clouds are brighten'd by the God of day.
So trees unapt to bear, by art refin'd,
With shoots ennobled of a generous kind,
High o'er the ground with fruits adopted rife,
And lift their spreading honours to the skies.
A DIALOGUE between a LADY and her LOOKING-GLASS, while she had the Green-Sickness.
THE gay Ophelia view'd her face
In the clear crystal of her glass;
The lightning from her eye was filed,
Her cheek was pale, the rofes dead.
Then thus Ophelia, with a frown :—
Art thou, falfe thing, perfidious grown!
I never could have thought, I fwear,
To find fo great a flanderer there!
• Dr. Broome tranflated eight books of the Odyffey.
Falfe thing thy malice I defy !
Beaux vow I'm fair-who never lye;
More brittle far than brittle thou,
Would every grace of woman grow,
If charms fo great so soon decay,
The bright poffeffion of a day!
But this I know, and this declare,
That thou art falfe, and I am fair.
The glass was vex'd to be bely'd,
And thus with angry tone reply'd:
No more to me of falfehood talk,
But leave your oatmeal and your chalk!
'Tis true, you 're meagre, pale, and wan,
The reafon is, you 're fick for man.-
While yet it spoke, Ophelia frown'd,
And dafh'd th' offender to the ground;
With fury from her arm it fled,
And round a glittering ruin spread;
When lo the parts pale looks disclose,
Pale looks in every fragment rofe;
Around the room instead of one,
An hundred pale Ophelia's fhone;
Away the frighted virgin flew,
And humbled, from herself withdrew.
Ye beaux, who tempt the fair and young,
With fnuff, and nonfenfe, dance, and song;
Ye men of compliment and lace !
Behold this image in the glass:
The wondrous force of flattery prove,
To cheat fond virgins into love :
Though pale the cheek, yet fwear it glows
With the vermilion of the rofe :
Praise them-for praise is always true,
Though with both eyes the cheat they view;
From hateful truths the virgin flies;
But the false sex is caught with lyes.
A Poem on the Seat of War in FLANDERS, chiefly with relation to the Sieges :
With the Praife of Peace and Retirement.
«Seceffus mei non defidiæ nomen, fed tranquillitatis
APPY, thou Flandria, on whofe fertile plains, In wanton pride luxurious plenty reigns; Happy! had heaven bestow'd one blessing more, And plac'd thee diftant from the Gallic power! But now in vain thy lawns attract the view, They but invite the victor to fubdue :
War, horrid war, the fylvan fcene invades,
And angry trumpets pierce the woodland fhades ; Here fhatter'd towers, proud works of many an age, Lie dreadful monuments of human rage;
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