But know, Adverfity's the child of God;

• Whom Heaven approves of most, most feel her rod.
• When fmooth old Ocean and each storm's asleep,
Then Ignorance may plough the wat❜ry deep;
• But when the dæmons of the tempest rave,

• Skill must conduct the veffel thro' the wave.

Sidney, what good man envies not thy blow?
• Who would not with Anytus for a foe*?
Intrepid Virtue triumphs over Fate;
The good can never be unfortunate.
And be this maxim graven in thy mind;
The height of virtue is to serve mankind.

But when old age has filver'd o'er thy head,
When memory fails, and all thy vigour's fled;
• Then may'st thou feek the ftillness of retreat,
• Then hear aloof the human tempeft beat;

Then will I greet thee to my woodland cave,

Allay the pangs of age, and fmooth thy grave."

J

THE TEMPLE OF FAME.

BY MR. POPE.

N that soft season, when defcending show'rs

Call forth the greens, and wake the rifing flow'rs; When op'ning buds falute the welcome day,

And earth relenting feels the genial ray;

As balmy fleep had charm'd my cares to reft,
And love itself was banifh'd from my breast,
(What time the morn mysterious vifions brings,
While purer flumbers fpread their golden wings)

Plate XVIII.

Published as the Act directs by Harrifon & Co May 1,1782.

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