The goddess offers gifts from either hand;
• Th' aufpicious bonnet, with the PRÆTOR's wand
The privilege of that would'st thou not miss,
Bend, and fubmit beneath the stroke of this.
See Furiofo on his keeper frown,

Depriv'd the precious privilege to drown;
Greatly he claims a right to his undoing;
The chains that hold him, hold him from his ruin.
Kindly proceed; ftrict discipline dispense;

'Till water-gruel low'rs him down to fenfe.

66

Why this to me? am I the froward boy, "Or knave to wrong, or madman to destroy?" Will thy denial prove that thou art none ! 'Tis Newgate's logic: thou art all in one.

Blind to their good, to be instructed loth,

Men are but children of a larger growth;
If no fuperior force the will controul,

Self-love's a villain, and corrupts the foul;
Wild and deftructive projects fire our brains;
We all are madmen, and demand our chains.
Know your own fphere, content to be a man;
Well pleas'd, to be as happy as you can:

In this manner they reprefent LIBERTY on their medals. a Dryden in All for Love.

Lofe not all good, by fhunning ills in vain;
'Tis wifer to enjoy than to complain.

Some evils must attend imperfect states ;
But difcontent new worlds of ills creates.

Hush thy complaints, nor quarrel with thy God:
If just the stroke, approve and kiss the rod.
By man if injur'd, turn thy eyes within;
Thou'lt find recorded fome unpunish'd fin;
Then heav'n acquit: and with regard to man,
Coolly th' amount of good and evil fcan;
If greater evils wait the wifh'd redress,

Grieve not that thou art free to choose the less.
Unknown to courts, ambition's thirst subdu'd,
My leffon is to be obfcurely good:

In life's still fhade, which no man's envy draws,
To reap the fruit of government and laws.
In fortune's round, as on the globe, I know
No top, no bottom, no where high or low;
Where-ever station'd, heav'n in profpect ftill,
That points to me, the zenith of her wheel.
"What! double tax'd, unpenfion'd, unprefer'd,
"In fuch bad times be easy! most absurd !”

e

Legum idcirco fervi fumus, ut liberi effe poffimus.

CIC.

Yet

Yet heav'n vouchfafes the daily bread intreated;
And these bad times have left me free to eat it:
My taxes, gladly paid, their nature shift;
If juft, cheap purchase; if unjust, a gift:
Nor knows ambition any rank fo great;
My fervants kings and minifters of state!
They watch my couch, my humble roof defend;
Their toil the means, my happiness the end.

My freedom to compleat, convinc'd I fee
Thy fervice, Heav'n, is perfect LIBERTY.
The will, conform'd to thy celestial voice,
Knows no restraint! for duty is her choice:
What ills thou fendeft, thankful I approve,
As kind corrections, pledges of thy love :
In every change, whatever ftage I run,
My daily wish fucceeds; THY WILL be done.

PLUT. de Audit.

* Τῷ λογῷ τὰς ἑπομένες ἄξιον ἔτι μόνος ἐλευθέρας να μίζειν. 8 Μόνοι γὰρ ὁ δὲ βέλεθαι μαθόντες ὡς βέλονται ζωσια

Ibid.

FRO

And barren lands, and dreary plains below;

To you, dear fir, my best regards I fend,
The weakest reafoner, as the truest friend.
Your arguments, that vainly strive to please,
Your arts, your country, and your palaces;
What figns of Roman grandeur still remain -
Much you have faid; and much have faid in vain,
Fine pageants thefe for flaves, to please the eye;
And put the neatest drefs on mifery!

Bred up to flav'ry and diffembled pain,
Unhappy man! you trifle with your chain:

But should your friend with your defires comply,
And fell himself to Rome and flav'ry;

Ho

He could not wear his trammels with that art,
Or hide the noble anguish of his heart:
You'd foon repent the livery that you gave;
For, trust me, I fhould make an aukward flave.
Falfely you blame our barren rocks and plains,
Happy in freedom and laborious swains:
Our peasants chearful to the field repair,

And can enjoy the labours of the year;

Whilft yours, beneath fome tree, with mournful eyes,
Sees for his haughty lord his harvests rife :
Then filent fighs; but ftops his flavish breath:
He filent fighs; for fhould he fpeak, 'tis death.
Hence from our field the lazy grain we call,
Too much for want, for luxury too small;
Whilft all Campania's rich inviting foil

Scarce knows the ploughfhare, or the reaper's toil.

In arms we breed our youth. To dart from far,
And aim aright the thunder of the war;

To whirl the faulchion, and direct the blow;
To ward the stroke, or bear upon the foe.
Early in hardships through the woods they fly,
Nor feel the piercing froft, or wintry fky;
Some prowling wolf or foamy boar to meet,
And stretch the panting favage at their feet: