Should no Disease thy torpid veins invade,
Nor Melancholy's phantoms haunt thy shade;
Yet hope not life from grief or danger free,
Nor think the doom of man revers'd for thee:
Deign on the paffing world to turn thine eyes,
And pause awhile from letters, to be wife;
There mark what ills the scholar's life affail,
Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail.
See nations flowly wife, and meanly juft,
To buried merit raise the tardy bust.
If dreams yet flatter, once again attend,
Hear Lydiat's life, and Galileo's end.
Nor deem, when Learning her last prize bestows,
The glitt'ring eminence exempt from woes;
See when the vulgar 'fcape, defpis'd or aw'd,
Rebellion's vengeful talons feize on Laud.
From meaner minds, though smaller fines content
The plunder'd palace or fequefter'd rent;
Mark'd out by dangerous parts he meets the fhock;
And fatal Learning leads him to the block:
Around his tomb let Art and Genius weep,
But hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and fleep.
The 'feftal blazes, the triumphal fhow,
The ravish'd ftandard, and the captive foe,
The fenate's thanks, the gazette's pompous tale,
With force refiftlefs o'er the brave prevail.
Such bribes the rapid Greek o'er Asia whirl'd,
For fuch the steady Romans shook the world;
For fuch in diftant lands the Britons shine,
And ftain with blood the Danube or the Rhine;
This pow'r has praise, that virtue scarce can warm,
'Till fame fupplies the universal charm.
Yet Reason frowns on War's unequal game,
Where wasted nations raise a single name,
And mortgag'd states their grandfires wreaths regret,
From age to age in everlasting debt;
Wreaths which at last the dear-bought right convey To ruft on medals, or on ftones decay.
On what foundation stands the warrior's pride,
How juft his hopes let Swedish Charles decide;
A frame of adamant, a foul of fire,
No dangers fright him, and no labours tire;
O'er love, o'er fear extends his wide domain,
Unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain;
No joys to him pacific fcepters yield,
War founds the trump, he rushes to the field;
Behold furrounding kings their pow'r combine,
And one capitulate, and one refign;
Peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain;
"Think nothing gain'd, he cries, 'till nought remain,
"On Moscow's walls 'till Gothic ftandards fly,
"And all be mine beneath the polar sky."
The march begins in military state,
And nations on his eye fufpended wait;
Stern Famine guards the folitary coast,
And Winter barricades the realm of Frost;
He comes, not want and cold his course delay;-
Hide, blushing Glory, hide Pultowa's day:
The vanquish'd hero leaves his broken bands,
And fhews his miferies in diftant lands;
Condemn'd a needy fupplicant to wait,
While ladies interpofe, and flaves debate.
But did not Chance at length her error mend?
Did no fubverted empire mark his end?
Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound?
Or hostile millions press him to the ground?
His fall was destin'd to a barren strand,
A petty fortress, and a dubious hand;
He left the name, at which the world grew pale,
To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
All' times their scenes of pompous woes afford,
From Perfia's tyrant to Bavaria's lord.
In gay hoftility, and barb'rous pride,
With half mankind embattled at his fide,
Great Xerxes comes to feize the certain prey,
And starves exhausted regions in his way;
Attendant Flatt'ry counts his myriads o'er,
'Till counted myriads footh his pride no more;
Fresh praise is try'd 'till madness fires his mind,
The waves he lafhes, and enchains the wind;
New pow'rs are claim'd, new pow'rs are still beftow'd, "Till rude refiftance lops the spreading god;
The daring Greeks deride the martial fhow,
And heap their vallies with the gaudy foe;
Th' infulted fea with humbler thoughts he gains,
A fingle skiff to speed his flight remains ;
Th' incumber'd oar fcarce leaves the dreaded coaft
Through purple billows and a floating host.
The bold Bavarian, in a lucklefs hour,
Tries the dread fummits of Cesarean pow'r,
With unexpected legion's bursts away,
And fees defenceless realms receive his fway;
Short fway! fair Auftria spreads her mournful charms,
The queen, the beauty, fets the world in arms;
From hill to hill the beacons rousing blaze
Spreads wide the hope of plunder and of praise;
The fierce Croatian, and the wild Huffar,
And all the fons of ravage crowd the war;
The baffled prince in honour's flatt'ring bloom
Of hafty greatness finds the fatal doom,
His foes derifion, and his fubjects blame,
And steals to death from anguish and from shame.
Enlarge my life with multitude of days,
In health, in sickness, thus the fuppliant prays;
Hides from himself his ftate, and shuns to know,
That life protracted is protracted woe.
Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy,
And shuts up all the paffages of joy:
In vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour,
The fruit autumnal, and the vernal flow'r,
With listless eyes the dotard views the store,
He views, and wonders that they please no more;
Now pall the tastelefs meats, and joyless wines,
And Luxury with fighs her flave resigns.
Approach, ye minstrels, try the foothing strain,
And yield the tuneful lenitives of pain:
No founds, alas! would touch th' impervious ear,
Though dancing mountains witness Orpheus near,
Nor lute nor lyre his feeble pow'rs attend,
Nor fweeter mufic of a virtuous friend,
|