And all the incenfe bounteous Jove requires,
Has fweets for him who feeds the facred fires.-

Sloth views the tow'rs of fame with envious eyes; Defirous ftill, ftill impotent to rise.

Oft, when refolv'd to gain those blissful tow'rs,
The penfive queen the dire ascent explores,
Comes onward, wafted by the balmy trees,
Some filvan mufic, or some scented breeze:
She turns her head, her own gay realm she spies,
And all the short-liv'd resolution dies.

Thus fome fond infect's fault'ring pinions wave,
Clafp'd in its fav'rite sweets, a lasting slave:
And thus in vain these charming visions please
The wretch of glory, and the flave of ease:
Doom'd ever in ignoble state to pine,
Boast her own scenes, and languish after mine.

But fhun her fnares: nor let the world exclaim,
Thy birth, which was thy glory, prov'd thy fhame.
With early hope thine infant actions fir'd;
Let manhood crown what infancy infpir'd.
Let gen'rous toils reward with health thy days,
Prolong thy prime, and eternize thy praise.
The bold exploit that charms th' attesting age,
To latest times fhall gen'rous hearts engage;
And with that myrtle shall thy shrine be crown'd,
With which, alive, thy graceful brows were bound ¿
Till time fhall bid thy virtues freely bloom,

And raise a temple where it found a tomb.

Then in their feafts thy name fhall GRECIANS join; Shall pour the sparkling juice to Jove's and thine. Thine, us'd in war, fhall raife their native fire; Thine, us'd in peace, their mutual faith inspire. Dullness perhaps thro' want of fight, may blame, And fpleen, with odious induftry, defame; And that, the honours giv'n, with wonder view, And this, in fecret sadness, own them due : Contempt and envy were by fate defign'd The rival tyrants which divide mankind; Contempt, which none, but who deferve, can bear; While envy's wounds the fmiles of fame repair. For know, the gen'rous thine exploits fhall fire, Thine ev'ry friend it fuits thee to require, Lov'd by the gods, and, till their feats I fhew, Lov'd by the good their images below."

Ceafe, lovely maid, fair daughter of the skies!
My guide! my queen! th' extatic youth replies.
In thee I trace a form defign'd for fway;
Which chiefs may court, and kings with pride obey.
And, by thy bright immortal friends I fwear,
Thy fair idea fhall no toils impair.

Lead me! O lead me where whole hofts of foes,
Thy form depreciate, and thy friends oppose !
Welcome all toils th' inequal fates decree,
While toils endear thy faithful charge to thee.
Such be my cares, to bind th' oppressive hand,
And crush the fetters of an injur'd land:

To

To fee the monfter's noxious life refign'd,
And tyrants quell'd, the monsters of mankind!
Nature shall smile to view the vanquish'd brood,
And none, but envy, riot unfubdu'd.

In cloister'd state let selfish fages dwell,

Proud that their heart is narrow as their cell;
And boast their mazy labyrinth of rules, ·
Far lefs the friends of virtue, than the fools:
Yet fuch in vain thy fav'ring fmiles pretend;
For HE is thine, who proves his country's friend.
Thus when my life well-spent the good enjoy,
And the mean envious labour to destroy;
When, ftrongly lur'd by fame's contiguous fhrine,
yet devote my
choicer vows to thine;

I

If all my toils thy promis'd favour claim,

O lead thy fav'rite thro' the gates of fame!
He ceas'd his vows, and, with disdainful air,
He turn'd to blast the late exulting fair.
But vanish'd, fled to fome more friendly fhore,
The conscious phantom's beauty pleas'd no more:
Convinc'd, her fpurious charms of drefs and face
Claim'd a quick conqueft, or a fure difgrace.
Fantastic pow'r! whofe tranfient charms allur'd,
While error's mift the reas'ning mind obfcur'd:
Not fuch the victress, virtue's conftant queen
Endur'd the test of truth, and dar'd be seen.
Her bright'ning form and features seem'd to own,
'Twas all her wish, her int'reft to be known;

And, when his longing view the fair declin'd,
Left a full image of her charms behind.

Thus reigns the moon, with furtive splendor crown'd,
While glooms opprefs us, and thick fhades furround.
But let the fource of light its beams difplay,
Languid and faint the mimic flames decay,
And all the fick❜ning fplendor fades away.

The PROGRESS of TASTE:

O R,

The FATE of DELICACY.

A POEM on the Temper and Studies of the AUTHOR; and how great a Misfortune it is, for a Man of fmall Eftate to have much TASTE.

P

PART the FIRST.

Erhaps fome cloud eclips'd the day,
When thus I tun'd my penfive lay.
"The fhip is launch'd-we catch the gale-
On life's extended ocean fail:

For

For happiness our courfe we bend,
Our ardent cry, our general end!
Yet ah! the scenes which tempt our care
Are like the forms difpers'd in air,
Still dancing near disorder'd eyes;
And weakest his, who beft defcries!

Yet let me not my birth-right barter,
(For wishing is the poet's charter;
All bards have leave to wifh what's wanted,
Tho' few e'er found their wishes granted;
Extenfive field! where poets pride them
In finging all that is deny'd them.)

For humble ease, ye pow'rs! I pray;
That plain warm fuit for ev'ry day!
And pleasure, and brocade, beftow;
To flaunt it once a month, or so.
The first for conftant wear we want;
The first, ye pow'rs! for ever grant!
But conftant wear the laft befpatters,
And turns the tiffue into tatters.

Where'er my vagrant course I bend,
Let me fecure one faithful friend.
Let me, in public fcenes, request
A friend of wit and tafte, well-drefs'd:
And, if I must not hope fuch favour,
A friend of wit and tafte, however.

Alas! that wisdom ever fhuns
To congregate her scatter'd fons;