Source of their favour all the livelong day.
But fate affents not. Age alone contracts
His meagre palm, to clench the tempting bane
Of all his peace, the glitt'ring feeds of care!

O that the mufe's voice might pierce the ear
Of gen'rous youth! for youth deserves her song.
Youth is fair virtue's season, virtue then

Requires the pruner's hand; the sequent stage,
It barely vegetates; nor long the space
Ere robb'd of warmth its arid trunk display
Fell winter's total reign. O lovely fource
Of gen'rous foibles, youth! when op'ning minds
Are honeft as the light, lucid as air,

As foft'ring breezes kind, as linnets gay,
Tender as buds, and lavish as the fpring!
Yet hapless state of man! his earliest youth
Cozens itself; his age defrauds mankind.

Nor deem it strange that rolling years abrade
The focial biafs. Life's extenfive page
What does it but unfold repeated proofs
Of gold's omnipotence? With patriots, friends,
Sick'ning beneath its ray, enervate some,
And others dead, whofe putrid name exhales
A noisome scent, the bulky volume teems.
With kinfmen, brothers, fons, moist'ning the shroud,
Or honouring the grave, with fpecious grief
Of short duration; foon in fortune's beams
Alert, and wond'ring at the tears they fhed.

But who shall fave by tame profaic strain

That

That glowing breaft, where wit with youth confpires
To sweeten luxury? The fearful mufe

Shall yet proceed, tho' by the fainteft gleam
Of hope infpir'd, to warn the train fhe loves.

PART THE SECON D.

'N fome dark season, when the misty show'r
Obfcures the fun, and faddens all the sky;
When linnets drop the wing, nor grove nor ftream
Invites thee forth, to fport thy drooping mufe;
Seize the dull hour, nor with regret affign
To worldly prudence. She nor nice nor coy
Accepts the tribute of a joyless day;

She fmiles well-pleas'd, when wit and mirth recede,
And not a grace, and not a muse will hear.
Then, from majestic MARO's aweful strain,
Or tow'ring HOMER, let thine eye defcend
To trace, with patient industry, the page..
Of income and expence. And oh ! ́beware,
Thy breaft, felf-flatt'ring, place no courtly fmile,
No golden promife of your faithlefs muse,
Nor latent mine which fortune's hand may fhew,
Amid thy solid store. The firen's fong
Wrecks not the lift'ning failor, half fo fure.
See by what avenues, what devious paths,

The foot of want, detefted, fteals along,
And bars each fatal pafs. Some few short hours

Of punctual care, the refuse of thy year

On frugal schemes employ'd, fhall give the muse

To fing intrepid many a chearful day.

But if too foon before the tepid gales
Thy refolution melt; and ardent vows
In wary hours preferr'd or dye forgot,
Or feem the forc'd effect of hazy skies;
Then, ere furprize, by whofe impetuous rage
The maffy fort, with which thy gentler breast
I not compare, is won, the fong proceeds.
Know too by nature's undiminish'd law,
Throughout her realms obey'd, the various parts
Of deep creation, atoms, fyftems, all!
Attract and are attracted; nor prevails the law
Alone in matter; foul alike with foul
Afpires to join; nor yet in fouls alone,
In each idea it imbibes, is found

The kind propenfity. And when they meet,
And grow familiar, various tho' their tribe,
Their

tempers various, vow perpetual faith: That, fhou'd the world's disjointed frame once more To chaos yield the fway, amid the wreck

Their union fhou'd furvive; with Roman warmth, By facred hofpitable laws endear'd,

Shou'd each idea recollect its friend.

Here then we fix; on this perennial base

Erect thy fafety, and defy the storm.

Let foft profufion's fair idea join

Her hand with poverty; nor here defift,

'Till, o'er the groupe that forms their various train

Thou

Thou fing loud hymenéals. Let the pride
Of outward fhew in lafting leagues combine
With fhame thread-bare; the gay vermilion face
Of rash intemp❜rance, be difcreetly pair'd
With fallow hunger; the licentious joy,

With mean dependence; ev'n the dear delight
Of sculpture, paint, intaglio's, books, and coins,
Thy breaft, fagacious prudence! fhall connect
With filth and beggary; nor disdain to link
With black infolvency. Thy foul alarm'd
Shall fhun the firen's voice; nor boldly dare
To bid the foft enchantress share thy breast,
With fuch a train of horrid fiends conjoin'd.

Nor think, ye fordid race! ye groveling minds!
I frame the fong for you! for you, the muse
Cou❜d other rules impart. The friendly strain
For gentler bofoms plan'd, to yours wou'd prove
The juice of lurid aconite, exceed

Whatever COLCHOS bore; and in your breast
Compaffion, love, and friendship all destroy!
It greatly shall avail, if e'er thy ftores
Increase apace, by periodic days
Of annual payment, or thy patron's boon,
The lean reward of grofs unbounded praise!
It much avails, to feize the present hour,
And, undeliberating, call around

Thy hungry creditors; their horrid rage
When once appeas'd, the small remaining store

Shall rise in weight tenfold, in luftre rise,

As

As gold improv❜d by many a fierce assay.
'Tis thus the frugal husbandman directs
His narrow ftream, if o'er its wonted banks
By fudden rains impell'd, it proudly swell;
His timely hand thro' better tracks conveys
The quick-decreasing tide; ere borne along
Or thro' the wild morafs, or cultur'd field,
Or bladed grass mature, or barren fands,
It flow destructive, or it flow in vain !
But happiest he who fanctifies expence
By prefent pay! who fubjects not his fame
To tradesmen's varlets, nor bequeaths his name,
His honour'd name, to deck the vulgar page
Of base mechanic, fordid, unfincere!
There haply, while thy mufe fublimely foars
Beyond this earthly sphere, in heav'n's abodes,
And dreams of nectar and ambrofial sweets,
Thy growing debt steals unregarded o'er
The punctual record; till nor РHOEBUS felf-
Nor fage MINERVA's art can aught avail
To foothe the ruthlefs dun's detested rage.
Frantic and fell, with many a curfe profane
He loads the gentle mufe; then hurls thee down
To want, remorse, captivity and shame.

Each public place, the glitt'ring haunts of men,
With horror fly. Why loiter near thy bane?-
Why fondly linger on a hoftile fhore
Difarm'd, defenceless? why require to tread
The precipice? or why alas to breathe

A mo