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The thought of death, which reason, too supine, To cull his victims from the fairest fold,
Or misemploy'd, to rarely fastens there. And sheath his shafts in all the pride of life.
Nor reason, nor affection, no, nor both When flooded with abundance, purpled o'er
Combin'd, can break the witchcrafts of the world. With recent honours, bloom'd with ev'ry bliss,
Behold, th’inexorable hour at hand !

Set up in ostentation, made the gaze,
Behold, the inexorable hour forgot !

The gaudy centre of the public eye, And to forget it, the chief end of life,

When fortune thus has toss'd her child in air, Tho' well to ponder it is life's chief end. Snatcht from the covert of an humble state,

How often have I seen him dropt at once, § 113. Reflektion. Young.

Our morning's envy! and our ev'ning's figh!

As if her bounties were the signal giv'n,

SOUL without reflection, like a pile The flow'ry wreath to mark the sacrifice,
Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.

And call Death's arrows on the destin'd prey.

High fortune seems in cruel league with fate. § 114. Inattention to the Voice of Death. Young. Ask you for what? To give his war on man Tell me, some God ' my guardian angel' tell, The deeper dread, and more illustrious spoil ;

What thus infatuates? what enchantment Thus to keep daring mortals more in awe.

And burns Lorenzo still for the sublime
The phantom of an age 'twixt us and death,

Of life? to hang his airy nest on high, Already at the door He knocks; we hear,

On the light timber of the topmost bough, And yet we will not hear. What mail defends Rockt at each breeze, and menacing a fall? Our untouch'd hearts? What miracle turns off Granting grim death at equal distance there ; The pointed thought, which from a thousand Yet peace begins just where ambition ends. Is daily darted, and is daily shunn'd? (quivers What makes man wretched ? Happiness deny'd ? We stand, as in a battle, throngs on throngs

Lorenzo! no: 'Tis happiness disdain’d. Around us falling ; wounded oft ourselves;

She comes too meanly drest to win our smile; 1 Tho' bleeding with our wounds, immortal still! And calls herself Content, a homely name! We see time's furrows on another's brow,

Our flame is transport, and content our scorn. And death entrench'd preparing his assault;

Ambition turns, and thus the door against her, How few themselves, in that just mirror, see !

And weds a toil, a tempeft, in her stead; Or, seeing, draw their inference as strong!

A tempeft to warm transport near of kin. There death is certain ; doubtful here: He must, Unknowing what our mortal state admits, And soon: We may, within an age, expire.

Life's modest joys we ruin, while we raise;

And all our ecstasies are wounds to peace; ** Tho' gray our hcads, our thoughts and aims are green;

Peace, the full portion of mankind below.

(lent; Like damag'd clocks, whose hand and bell dis

And since thy peace is dear, ambitious youth ! Folly sings Six, while Nature points at Twelve. Of fortune fond ! as thoughtless of thy fate!

What folly can be ranker · Like our thadows, As late I drew death's pičture to stir up Our wishes lengthen as our fun declines.

Thy wholesome face; now drawn in contrast, No with should loiter, then, this side the grave; Gay Fortune's, thy vain hopes to reprimand. Our hearts should leave the world before the See high in air the sportive goddess hangs, Calls for our carcafes to mend the foul.

Unlocks her casket, spreads her glittering ware,

[knell Enough to live in tempeft, die in port;

And calls the giddy winds to puff abroad should fly concourse, cover in retreat

Her random bounties o'er the gaping throng. Defects of julgment, and the will subdue ;

All rush rapacious, friends o'er trodden friends; Walk thoughtful on the filent, folemn fhore

Sons o'er their father, subjects o'er their kings, Of that vast ocean it must fail to foon;

Priests o'er their gods, and lovers o'er the fair And put good works on board; and wait the wind (Still more adord) to snatch the golden show'r. That shortly blows us into worlds unknown ;.

Gold glitters most where virtue shines no more, If unconsider'd too, a dreadful scene!

As stars froin absent suns have leave to shine. All thould be prophets to themielves; foresee Unkenneli'd from the prisons and the stews,

what a precious pack of votaries Their future fate; their future fute foretaste : This art would waste the bitterness of death.

Pour in, all open in their idol's praise ; The thought of death alone the fear destroys ;

All, ardent, eye each wafture of her hand, A disaffection to that precious thought

And, wide expanding their voracious jaws, Is more than midnight darkness on the soul,

Moriel on morsel swallow down unchew'd, Which sleeps beneath it, on a precipice,

Untasted, thro' mad appetite for more ;
Puff’d off by the unit blast, and loft for ever.

Gorg'd in the throat, yet lean and rav'nous ftill.
Sagacious all, to trace the smallest game,

And bold to seize the greatest. If (blest chance !) $115. Profperily, Content, and Ambition.

Court-zephyrs sweetly breathe, they launch, YOUNG.

they fly, O HOW portentous is prosperity!

O’er juft, o'er sacred, all-forbidden ground, Hoiv, comet-like, it threatens while it thines! Drunk with the burning scent of place or pow'r, Few years but yieid us proof of death's ambition, Staunch to the foot of lucre, till they die.




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$116. Lyfander and Afpafia. YOUNG, And fouls in ermine fcorn a soul without ?

Can place or lessen us, or aggrandize? LYSANDER, happy past the common lot, Pygmies are pygmies ftill, tho' percht on Alps;

Was warn’d of danger ; but too gay to fear. And pyramids are pyramids in vales.
He woo'd the fair Aspalia : She was kind:

Each man makes his own itature, builds himself:
In youth, form,fortune, fame,they both were blest; Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids :
All who knew, envy'd; yet in envy lov’d;

Her monuments shall last when Egypt's fall. Can fancy form more finish'd happiness ? Fixt was the nuptial hour. Her stately dome Rofe on the founding beach. The glittering spires $ 119. Ambition and Fame. Young. Flout in the wave;, and break againft the thore: AMBITION:s boundless appetite out-speaks. The faithless morning smil'd: he takes his leave, At high presumptions of their own desert, [tire To re-embrace, in ecstasies, at eve.

One age is poor applause; the mighty fhout, The rising storm forbids. The news arrives : The thunder by the living few begun, Untold, she saw it in her servant's eve.

Late time must echo: worlds unborn resound. She felt it fecn (her heart was apt to feel); We with our names eternally to live: (thought, And, drown'd, without the furious ocean's aid, Wild dreain! which ne'er had haunted human In fuffocating sorrows, shares his tomb.

Had not our natures been eternal too.
Now, round the sumptuous bridal monument Instinct points out an int’rest in hereafter :
The guilty billows innocently roar;

But our blind reason fees not where it lies; And the rough sailor passing, drops a tear. Or, seeing, gives the substance for the shade.

1 Fame is the shade of immortality,

And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught, $117. Genius connected with Ignominy. Condemn’d; it shrinks to nothing in the grasp.

YOUNG. Consult th'ambitious, 'tis ambition's cure.

“ And is This all?" cry'd Cæsar at his height, HEART merit wanting, mount we ne'er So Disgusted. This third proof ambition brings

Of immortality. The first in fame,
Our height is but the gibbet of our name.

Observe him ncar, your envy will abate;
A celebrated wretch, when I behold,

Sham’d at the disproportion vast, between
When I behold a genius bright, and base,

The passion and the purchase, he will figh Of tow'ring talents, and terrestrial aims;

At such success, and blush at his renown. Methinks I see, as thrown from her

high 1phere, And why? Because far richer prize invites The glorious fragments of a foul immortal,

His heart; far more illustrious glory calls :
With rubbilh mixt, and glittering in the dust.
Struck at the splendid, melancholy fight,

It calls in whispers, yet the deafcft hear.
At once compassion soft, and envy, rise-
But wherefore envy? Talents angel-bright,

$ 120. Human Praise. YOUNG.
If wanting worth, are shining instruments
In false ambition's hand, to finish faults NOR absolutely vain is human praise,
Illustrious, and give infamy renown.

When human is supported by divine.
I'll introduce Lorenzo to himself;

Pleasure and pride (bad masters!) share ourhcarts, $ 118. Exalted Station. Young.

As love of pleasure is ordain’d to guard

And feed our bodies, and extend our race; -WHAT is ftation high? The love of praise is planted to protect, Tis-a proud mendicant; it boasts, and begs; And propagate the glories of the mind. It begs an alms of homage from the throng, What is it but the love of praise inspires, And of the throng denies its charity.

Matures, refincs, embellishes, exalts, Monarchs and ministers are awful names; Earth's happiness? From that, the delicate, Whoever wear them challenge our devoir. The grand, the marvellous; of civil life, Religion, public order, both exact

Want and convenience, under-workers, lay External homage, and a supple knee,

The basis on which love of glory builds. To beings pompoully fer up to serve

Nor is thy life, O Virtue! lefs in debt The meanest Nave; all more is merit's due, To Praise, thy secret fti nulating friend, Her facred and inviolable right :

Were men not proud, what ierit thould we mniss! Nor ever paid the monarch, but the man. Pride made the virtues of the pagan world. Our hearts ne'er bow but to superior worth; Praite is the salt that seasons right the man, Nor ever fail of their allegiance there.

And whets his appetite for morial good. Fools, indeed, drop the man in their account, Thirst of applauic is virtue's fecond guard; And vote the manile into majesty.

Rcafon, her first; but rcaton wants an aid; Let the small savage boast his filver fur; Our private reason is a flatterer; His royal robe unborrow'd, and unbought, Thirit of applause calls public judgment in His own, descending froin his fires.

To poise our own, to keep an even fcalc, Shall man be proud to wear his livery,

And give endanger'd virtue fairer play:

F 4

$121. Hope. YOUNG.

HOPE, of all paffions, moft befriends us here;
Paffions of prouder name befriend us lefs.
Joy has her tears; and Tranfport has her death:
Hope, like a cordial, innocent, tho' ftrong,
Man's heart at once infpirits, and ferenes;
Nor makes him pay his wildom for his joys;
'Tis all our prefent ftate can safely bear,
Health to the frame! and vigour to the mind!
A joy attemper'd! a chaftis'd delight!
Like the fair fummer ev'ning mild, and sweet!
'Tis man's full cup; his paradife below!

$122. Human Life compared to the Ocean.


But plants new terrors on the victor's brow:
What pain to quit the world, juft made their own!
Their neft fo deeply down'd, and built fo high!
Too low they build, who build beneath the stars.

123. Humility true Greatnefs. YOUNG.
-DOST thou demand a test,

A teft, at once infallible and fhort,
Of real Greatnefs? That man greatly lives,
Whate'er his fate, or fame, who greatly dies;
High-flush'd with hope, where heroes fhall de-
If this a true criterion, many courts, [fpair.
Illustrious, might afford but few grandees.
Th' Almighty, from his throne,on earth furveys
Nought greater than an honeft, humble Heart;
An humble heart His refidence! pronounc'd

OCEAN! Thou dreadful and tumultuous home His fecond feat, and rival to the skies.

Of dangers, at eternal war with man!
Death's capital, where most he domineers,
With all his chofen terrors frowning round,
(Tho' lately feasted high at * Albion's cost)
Wide-op'ning, and loud-roaring still for more!
Too faithful mirror! how doft thou reflect
The melancholy face of human life?
The strong resemblance tempts me farther ftill;
And, haply, Britain may be deeper struck
By moral truth, in fuch a mirror seen,
Which nature holds for ever at her eye.
Self-flatter'd, unexperienc'd, high in hope,
When young, with fanguine cheer, and streamers
We cut our cable, launch into the world, [gay,
And fondly dream each wind and star our friend;
All, in fome darling enterprise einbarkt ;
But where is he can fathom its extent ?
Amid a multitude of artless hands,
Ruin's fure perquifite! her lawful prize!
Some fteer aright; but the black blaft blows hard,
And puffs them wide of hope: With hearts of

Full against wind and tide, fome win their way;
And when ftrong effort has deferv'd the port,
And tugg'd it into view, 'tis won! 'tis loft!
Tho' fting their oar, ftill stronger is their fate;
They ftrike; and while they triumph,they expire.
In firefs of weather, moft; fome fink outright;
O'er them, and o'er their names, the billows clofe;
To-morrow knows not they were ever born.
Others a fhort memorial leave behind,
Like a flag floating, when the bark's ingulph'd;
It floats a moment, and is feen no more:
One Cæfar lives, a thoufand are forgot,
How few, beneath aufpicious planets born
(Darlings of Providence! fond fate's elect!)
With welling fails make good the promis'd port,
With all their wishes freighted! Yet ev's thefe,
Freighted with all their withes, foon complain;
Free from misfortune, not from nature free,
They fill are men; and when is man fecure?
As fatal time, as ftorm! the rush of years [efcapes
Beats down their strength;
Ja ruin end: And, now, their proud fuccefs

their numberlefs

The private path, the fecret acts of men,
If noble, far the noblest of our lives!

§ 124. Pleasure. YOUNG.
PLEASURE's the mistress of etherial powers ;
For her contend the rival gods above;
Pleafure's the mistress of the world below;
And well it was for man that pleasure charms :
How would all ftagnate, but for pleasure's ray!
How would the frozen ftream of action cease!
What is the pulfe of this fo bufy world?
The love of pleasure: That, thro' ev'ry vein,
Throws motion, warmth; and fhuts out death
from life.

Tho' various are the tempers of mankind,
Pleafure's gay family hold all in chaims:
Some most affect the black; and fome the fair;
Some honest pleasure court; and some, obscene.
Pleafures obfcene are various, as the throng
Of paffions, that can err in human hearts;
Miftake their objects, or tranfgrefs their bounds.
Think you there's but one whoredom Whore-
But when our reason licences delight. [dom all,
Doft doubt, Lorenzo? Thou shalt doubt no more,
Thy father chides thy gallantries; yet hugs
An ugly, common harlot in the dark;
A rank adulterer with others gold!
And that hag Vengeance, in a corner, charms.
Hatred her brothel has, as well as love,
Where horrid epicures debauch in blood.
Whate'er the motive, Pleafure is the mark:
For Her, the black affattin draws his fword;
For Her, dark ftatefmen trim their midnight lamp,
To which no single facrifice may fall;
For Her, the faint abftains; the mifer ftarves;
The Stoic proud, for Pleafure, Pleasure fcorn'd;
For Her, Affliction's daughters grief indulge,
And find, or hope, a luxury in tears:
For Her, guilt, fhame, toil, danger, we defy;
And, with an aim voluptuous, rufh on death.
Thus univerfal her defpotic power!

And as her empire wide, her praife is juft.
Patron of pleafure! doater on delight!

Admiral Bal.hen, &c.


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I am thy rival; pleasure I profefs;
Pleasure the purpose of my gloomy song.
Pleasure is nought but virtue's gayer name;
I wrong her still, I rate her worth too low;
Virtue the root, and pleasure is the flow'r;
And honeft Epicurus' foes were fools. [fence!
But this founds harth, and gives the wife of-
If o'er-ftrain'd wisdom still retains the name,
How knits austerity her cloudy brow,
And blames, as bold and hazardous, the praise
Of pleasure to mankind, unprais'd, too dear!
Ye modern ftoics! hear my foft reply;
Their fenfes men will truft: we can't impofe;
Or, if we could, is impofition right?
Own honey sweet; but, owning, add this fting:
"When mixt with poison, it is deadly too."
Truth never was indebted to a lie.


For all their thoughts, like angels, feen of old
In Ifrael's dream, come from, and go to, heav'n;
Hence are they ftudious of fequefter'd fcenes;
While noife and diffipation comfort thee.


$127. Joy. YOUNG,

AIN are all fudden fallies of delight;
Convulfions of a weak, diftemper'd joy.
Joy's a fixt state; a tenure, not a start.
Blifs there is none, but unprecarious blifs:
That is the gem: Sell all, and purchase that.
Why go a begging to contingencies,
Not gain'd with eafe, nor fafely lov'd, if gain'd?
At good fortuitous, draw back, and paufe;
Sufpect it; what thou canst enfure, enjoy;
And nought, but what thou giv’st thyself, is sure.
Reafon perpetuates joy that reafon gives,
And makes it as immortal as herself:
To mortals, nought immortal but their worth.

Is nought but virtue to be prais'd as good?
Why then is health preferr'd before disease?
What nature loves is good, without our leave;
And where no future drawback cries," Beware,"
Pleasure, tho' not from virtue, should prevail.
'Tis balm to life, and gratitude to Heaven;
How cold our thanks for bounties unenjoy'd!
The love of pleasure is man's eldest-born,
Born in his cradle, living to his tomb;
Wisdom her younger fifter, tho' more grave,
Was meant to minifter, and not to mar,
Imperial pleasure, queen of human hearts.

$ 125. Piety. YOUNG.

N Piety humanity is built;
And on humanity much happiness;
And yet still more on piety itself.

A foul in commerce with her God is heaven;
Feels not the tumults and the fhocks of life,
The whirls of paffions, and the strokes of heart.
A Deity believ'd, is joy begun;
A Deity ador'd, is joy advanc'd;
A Deity belov'd, is joy matur'd.
Each branch of piety delight infpires;
Faith builds a bridge from this world to the next,
O'er death's dark gulph, and all its horror hides;
Praise, the sweet exhalation of our joy,
That joy exalts, and makes it sweeter ftill;
Pray'r ardent opens heav'n, lets down a stream
Of glory on the confecrated hour
Of man in audience with the Deity.
Who worships the Great God, that inftant joins
The first in heav'n, and fets his foot on hell.

$126. Earthly Happiness. YOUNG.
No man is happy, till he thinks, on earth
There breathes not a more happythan himfelf:
Then envy dies, and love o'erflows on all;
And love o'erflowing makes an angel here.
Such angels, all, intitled to repofe

On Him who governs fate: Tho' tempeft frowns,
Tho' nature shakes, how foft to lean on Heav'n!
To lean on Him, on whom archangels lean!
With inward eyes, and filent as the grave,
They ftand collecting every beam of thought,
Till their hearts kindle with divine delight;

§ 128. Worth. YOUNG. WORTH, confcious worth! fhould abfolutely


And other joys afk leave for their approach;
Nor, unexamin'd, ever leave obtain.
Thou art all anarchy; a mob of joys
Wage war, and perish in inteftine broils;
Not the leaft promise of eternal peace!
No bofom-comfort! or unborrow'd blifs!
Thy thoughts are vagabonds; all outward-bound,
'Mid fands, and rocks, and storms, to cruize for
If gain'd, dear bought; and better mifs'd than
Much pain muft expiate what much pain procur'd.
Thy cargo bring; and peftilence the prize.
Fancy and fenfe, from an infected shore,
Then, fuch thy thirst (infatiable thirst!
By fond indulgence but inflam'd the more!)
Fancy ftill cruizes when poor sense is tir'd.

pleasure ;

$129. Picture of a good Man. YOUNG. SOME angel guide my pencil, while I draw,

What nothing lefs than angel can exceed;
A man on earth devoted to the skies,
Like fhips at fea, while in, above the world.
Behold him feated on a mount ferene,
With afpect mild, and elevated eye,
Above the fogs of fenfe, and paffion's storm;
All the black cares and tumults of this life,
Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet,
Excite his pity, not impair his peace.
A mingled mob! a wand'ring herd! he fees,
Earth's genuine fons, the fceptred, and the flave,
Bewilder'd in the vale; in all unlike !
His full reverfe in all! What higher praife?
What stronger demonftration of the right?

When public welfare calls, or private want,
The prefent all their care; the future his.
They give to fame; his bounty he conceals.
Their virtues varnish nature; his exalt.
Mankind's efteein they court; and he, his own.
Theirs, the wild chace of falfe felicities;


His, the compos'd poffeffion of the true.
Alike throughout is his confiftent piece,
All of one colour, and an even thread;
While party-colour'd fhreds of happiness,
With hideous gaps between, patch up for them
A madman's robe; each puff of fortune blows
The tatters by, and fhews their nakedness.

He fees with other eyes than theirs :-Where
Behold a fun, he fpies a Deity;
What makes them only fimilc, makes him adore;
Where they fee mountains, he but atoms fees;
An empire in his balance weighs a grain.
They things terreftrial worship, as divine:
His hopes immortal blow them by, as dust
That dims his fight, and shortens his furvey,
Which longs, in Infinite, to lofe all bound.
Titles and honours (if they prove his fate)
He lays afide to find his dignity;
No dignity they find in aught befides.
They triumph in externals (which conceal
Man's real glory) proud of an eclipfe.
Himself too much he prizes to be proud,
And nothing thinks fo great in man, as man.
Too dear he holds his int'reft, to neglect
Another's welfare, or his right invade;
Their int'reft, like a lion, lives on prey.
They kindle at the shadow of a wrong;
Wrong he fuftains with temper, looks on heaven,
Nor ftoops to think his injurer his foe; [peace.
Nought but what wounds his virtue wounds his
A cover'd heart their character defends;
A cover'd heart denies him half his praife.
With nakedness his innocence agrees!
While their broad foilage teftifies their fall!
Their no-joys end where his full feast begins :
His joys create, theirs murder, future blifs.
To triumph in existence, his alone :
And his alone, triumphantly to think
His true exiftence is not yet begun.
His glorious courfe was yesterday complete;
Death, then, as welcome; yet life still is sweet.

§ 130. Night. YOUNG.

O majeftic Night! Nature's great ancestor! day's elder-born! And fated to furvive the transient fun! By mortals and immortals feen with awe ! A ftatry crown thy raven brow adorns, Anazure zone thy waift; clouds, in heav'n's loom Wrought through varieties of shape and shade, In ample folds of drapery divine,

[out, Thy flowing mantle form; and, heav'n throughVoluminously pour thy pompous train.

$131. The Contraft. YOUNG.

But open force was vain; by night she went,
And, while he flept, furpriz'd the darling rent:
Where yawn'd the frieze is now become a doubt;
“And glory, at one entrance, quite shut out*.*
He fcorns Florello, and Florello him;
This hates the filthy creature; that, the prim:
Thus, in each other, both these fools defpife
Their own dear felves, with undifcerning eyes;
Their methods various, but alike their aim;
The floven and the fopling are the fame.

§ 132. Reflection on Death. YOUNG. Where the prime actors of the laft year's scene's Their port fo proud, their buskin, and their


How many fleep who kept the world awake?
With luftre, and with noife! has death proclaim'd'
A truce, and hung his fated lance on high !
'Tis brandish'd ftill; nor fhall the present year
Be more tenacious of her human leaf,
Or fpread of feeble life a thinner fall.

But needlefs monuments to wake the thought;
Life's gayeft fcenes fpeak man's mortality;
Though in a ftyle more florid, full as plain,
As mausoleums, pyramids, and tombs.
What are our nobleft ornaments, but deaths
Turn'd flatterers of life, in paint or marble,
The well-ftain'd canvas, or the featur'd stone?
Our fathers grace, or rather haunt the scene.
Joy peoples her pavilion from the dead.

"Profeft diverfions! cannot these escape?"Far from it: These prefent us with a shroud, And talk of death, like garlands o'er a grave. As fome bold plunderers for bury'd wealth, We ranfack tombs for paftime: from the duft Call up the fleeping hero; bid him tread The scene for our amufement: How like gods We fit; and, wrapt in immortality, Shed gen'rous tears on wretches born to die; Their fate deploring, to forget our own!

What all the pomps and triumphs of our lives But legacies in bloffom Our lean foil Luxuriant grown, and rank in vanities, From friends interr'd beneath; a rich manure! Like other worms, we banquet on the dead; Like other worms fhall we crawl on, nor know Our prefent frailties, or approaching fate!

What is the world itfelf? Thy world-A grave.
Lorenzo, fuch the glories of the world!
Where is the dust that has not been alive?

The fpade, the plough, disturb our ancestors;
From human mould we reap our daily bread.
The globe around earth's hollow furface fhakes,
And is the ceiling of her fleeping fons.
O'er devastation we blind revels keep;

MOROSE is funk with fhame, whene'er fur-Whole bury'd towns fupport the dancer's heel.

In linen clean, or peruke undifguis'd. [priz'd

No fublunary chance his veftments fear;
Valu'd, like leopards, as their spots appear.

$133. Solitude. YOUNG.

A fam'd furtout he wears, which once was blue,O SACRED Solitude! divine retreat!

And his foot fwims in a capacious fhoe:
One day his wife (for who can wives reclaim?)
Levell'd her barb'rous needle at his fame:

Choice of the Prudent! envy of the Great! By thy pure ftream, or in thy waving fhade, We court fair wisdom, that celeftial maid:


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