See far below fuch grov'ling fcenes of fhame,
As lull to reft IGNAVIA's flumb'ring dame.
Her friends, from all the toils of fame fecure,"
Alas! inglorious, greater toils endure.
Doom'd all to mourn, who in her caufe engage,
A youth enervate, and a painful age

A fickly fapless mafs, if reafon flies;
And, if the linger, impotently wife!

A thoughtless train, who pamper'd, fleek, and gay,
Invite old age, and revel youth away;

From life's fresh vigour move the load of care,
And idly place it where they leaft can bear.
When to the mind, difeas'd, for aid they fly,
What kind reflection fhall the mind fupply?
When, with loft health, what fhou'd the lofs allay,
Peace, peace is loft: a comfortless decay!
But to my friends, when youth, when pleafure flies,
And earth's dim beauties fade before their eyes,
Thro' death's dark vifta flowery tracts are feen,
Elyfian plains, and groves for ever green.
If o'er their lives a refluent glance they caft,
Their's is the prefent who can praise the past.
Life has its blifs for thefe, when paft its bloom,
As wither'd rofes yield a late perfume.

Serene, and fafe from paffion's ftormy rage,
How calm they glide into the port of age!
Of the rude voyage less depriv'd than eas'd;
More tir'd than pain'd, and weaken'd than difeas'd.
For health on age, 'tis temp'rance must bestow;
And peace from piety alone can flow;

W

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
Defirous ftill, ftill impotent to rife.
Oft, when refolv'd to gain those blissful tow'rs,
The penfive queen the dire afcent explores,
Comes onward, wafted by the balmy trees,
Some filvan mufic, or fome fcented breeze

:

eyes;

917 5.A

baA

She turns her head, her own gay realm she spies, )

And all the fhort-liv'd resolution dies,

Thus fome fond infect's fault'ring pinions wave,
Clafp'd in its fav'rite sweets, a lafting flave:
And thus in vain these charming vifions please
The wretch of glory, and the flave of ease:
Doom'd ever in ignoble ftate to pine,

Boaft her own scenes, and languifh after mine.

But fhun her fnares: nor let the world exclaim, l 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 praife.
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. A

Thine, us'd in war, fhall raise their native fire;
Thine, us'd in peace, their mutual faith infpire.
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 fadnefs, own them due:
Contempt and envy were by fate defign'd
The rival tyrants which divide mankind;
Contempt, which none, but who deserve, 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."

Cease, 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 shall 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 décrée,
While toils endear thy faithful charge to thee.
Such be my cares, to bind th' oppreffive hand,
And crush the fetters of an injur❜d land:
To fee the monster's noxious life refign'd,
And tyrants quell'd, the monfters of mankind!
Nature fhall fmile to view the vanquish'd brood,
And none, but envy, riot unfubdu'd.

In cloifter'd state let felfish 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 smiles pretend;
For HE is thine, who proves his country's friend.
Thus when my life well-fpent the good enjoy,
And the mean envious labour to destroy;
When, ftrongly lur'd by fame's contiguous fhrine
devote my choicer vows to thine;

I yet

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 blaft the late exulting fair.
But vanifh'd, fled to fome more friendly fhore,
The confcious phantom's beauty pleas'd no more s
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 mit the reas'ning mind obfcur'd:
Not fuch the viêtrefs, virtue's conftant queen
Endur'd the test of truth, and dar'd be feen.
Her bright'ning form and features feem'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 fplendor 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

The PROGRESS of TASTE:

OR,

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.

1

PART the FIRST.

Pra

Erhaps fome cloud eclips'd the day,
When thus I tun'd my penfive lay..

The ship is launch'd--we catch the gale

On life's extended ocean fail :

For happiness our course 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 diforder'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 wish 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 cafe, ye pow'rs! I pray;
That plain warm fuit for ev'ry day!.
And pleasure, and brocade, bestow;
To flaunt it
once a month, or fo.

The