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The thought of death, which reason, too supine, To cull his victims from the fairest fold,
Set up in ostentation, made the gaze,
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,
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
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 ;
Gorg'd in the throat, yet lean and rav'nous ftill.
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.
$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.
Each man makes his own itature, builds himself:
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.
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,
Observe him ncar, your envy will abate;
Sham’d at the disproportion vast, between
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 :
It calls in whispers, yet the deafcft hear.
$ 120. Human Praise. YOUNG.
When human is supported by divine.
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:
$121. Hope. YOUNG.
HOPE, of all paffions, moft befriends us here;
$122. Human Life compared to the Ocean.
But plants new terrors on the victor's brow:
123. Humility true Greatnefs. YOUNG.
A teft, at once infallible and fhort,
OCEAN! Thou dreadful and tumultuous home His fecond feat, and rival to the skies.
Of dangers, at eternal war with man!
Full against wind and tide, fome win their way;
The private path, the fecret acts of men,
§ 124. Pleasure. YOUNG.
Tho' various are the tempers of mankind,
And as her empire wide, her praife is juft.
Admiral Bal.hen, &c.
I am thy rival; pleasure I profefs;
For all their thoughts, like angels, feen of old
$127. Joy. YOUNG,
AIN are all fudden fallies of delight;
Is nought but virtue to be prais'd as good?
$ 125. Piety. YOUNG.
N Piety humanity is built;
A foul in commerce with her God is heaven;
$126. Earthly Happiness. YOUNG.
On Him who governs fate: Tho' tempeft frowns,
§ 128. Worth. YOUNG. WORTH, confcious worth! fhould abfolutely
And other joys afk leave for their approach;
$129. Picture of a good Man. YOUNG. SOME angel guide my pencil, while I draw,
What nothing lefs than angel can exceed;
When public welfare calls, or private want,
His, the compos'd poffeffion of the true.
He fees with other eyes than theirs :-Where
§ 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,
§ 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?
But needlefs monuments to wake the thought;
"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.
The fpade, the plough, disturb our ancestors;
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;
$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:
Choice of the Prudent! envy of the Great! By thy pure ftream, or in thy waving fhade, We court fair wisdom, that celeftial maid: