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What is fame? an empty. bubble;
Gold? a tranfient, lining trouble.
Let them for their country bleed,
What was SIDNEY's, RALEIGH's meed:
Man's not worth a moment's pain,
Base, ungrateful, fickle, vain.
Then let me, fequefter’d fair,
To your sibyl grot repair ;
On yon hanging cliif it stands,
Scoop’d by nature’s falvage hands,
Bosom’d in the gloomy shade
Of cypress not with age decay'd.
Where the owl ftill hooting fits,
Where the bat incessant flits,
There in loftier strains I'll fing,
Whence the changing feafons fpring,
Tell how storms deform the skies,
Whence the wave fubside and rise,
Trace the comet’s blazing tail,
Weigh the plånets in a scale;
Bend, great God, before thy fhrine,
The bournlefs macocrofm's thine.
Save me! what's yon Throuded lhade?
That wanders in the dark-brown glade.
It beckons me!- vain fears adieu,
Mysterious ghott, I follow you.
Ah me! too well that gait I know,
My youth's first friend, my manhood's woe!
Its breast it bares' what! 'ftain’d with blood ?
Quick let me stanch the vital flood.
Oh spirit, whither art thou flown?
Why left me comfortless alone?
O SOLITUDE, on me bestow
The heart-felt harmony of woe,
Such-fuch, as on th’ Ausonian fhore,
Sweet Dorian Moschus trill’d of

yore:
No time 1hould cancel thy desert,
More-more, than Bion was, thou wert.

O goddess of the tearful eye,
The never-ceasing stream supply.
Let us with retirement go
To charnels, and the house of woe,
O’er friendship’s hearse low-drooping mourn,
Where the sickly tapers burn,
Where death and nun-clad forrow dwell,
And nightly ring the folemn knell.
The gloom dispels, the charnel smiles,
Light flashes through the vaulted ailles;
Blow silky soft, thou western gale,
O goddess of the desert, hail !
She bursts from yon cliff-riven cave,
Insulted by the wint’ry wave;
Her brow an ivy-garland binds,
Her tresses wanton in the winds,
A lion's spoils, without a zone,
Around her limbs are careless thrown;
Her right hand wields a knotted mace,
Her eyes roll wild, a stride her pace;
Her left a magic mirror holds,
In which she oft herself beholds.
O goddess of the desert, hail !
And softer blow, thou weftern gale!

Since in each scheme of life I've fail'd,
And disappointment seems entail'd;
Since all on earth I valued most,
My guide, my stay, my friend is loft;
You, only you, can make me bleft,
And hush the tempeft in my breaft.
Then gently deign to guide my feet,
To your hermit-trodden feat,
Where I may live at last my own,
Where I at last may die unknown.
I spoke, me turn’d her magic ray,
And thus the faid, or seemd to fay:

Youth, you're mistaken, if you think to find In shades a med'cine for a troubled mind; Wan grief will haunt you wherefoe’er you go, Sigh in the breeze, and in the streamlet flow,

There pale IN ACTION pines his life away,
And, fatiate, curses the return of day :
There naked FRENZY, laughing wild with pain,
Or bares the blade, or plunges in the main:
There SUPERSTITION broods o'er all her fears,
And yells of" demons in the zephyr hears.
But if a hermit you're resolv’d to dwell,
And bid to social life a last farewell;
'Tis impious.
God never made an independent 'man,
"Twould jarr the concord of his general plan:
See every part of that ftupendous whole,
" Whofe body nature is, and God the foul;"
To one great end, the general good confpire,
From matter, brute, to man, to seraph, fire.
Should man, through nature folitary roam,
His will his sovereign, everywhere his home,
What force wou'd guard him from the lion's jaw!
What swiftness wing him from the panther’s paw?
Or should fate lead him to some faler Thore,
Where panthers never prowl, nor lions roar;
Where liberal nature, all her charms bestows,
Suns shine, birds sing, flowers bloom and water flows,
Fool, doft thou think he'd revel on the store,
Abfolve the care of heaven, nor ask for more?
Though waters flow'd, flow’rs bloom'd, and Phæbus

Thone,
He'd figh, he'd murmur, that he was alone.
For know, the Maker on the human breast,
A fenfe of kindred, country, man, imprest;
And social life to better, aid, adorn,
With proper faculties each mortal's born,

Though nature's works the ruling mind declare,
And well deserve inquiry's serious care,
The God (whate’er misanthropy may say)
Shines, beams in man with most unclouded

ray. What boots it thee to fly from pole to pole? Hang o'er the fun, and with the planets roll? What boots, through space's furthelt bourns to roam? If thou, O man, a stranger art at home?

Then know thyself, the human mind survey,
The use, the pleasure will the toil repay.
Hence inspiration plans his manner'd lays,
Hence Homer's crown, and Shakspeare hence thy

bays.
Hence he, the pride of Athens and the shame,
The best and wiseft of mankind became.
Nor study only, practise what you know,
Your life, your knowledge, to mankind you owe.
With Plato's olive-wreath the bays entwine:
Those who in study, shou'd in practice shine.
When freedom gasp'd beneath a Cæsar's feet,
Then public virtue might to shades retreat;
But where she breathes, the least may useful be,
And freedom, Britain, still belong to thee.
On each condition difappointments wait,
Enter the hut, and force the guarded gate.
Nor dare repine, though early friendship bleed,
From love, the world, and all its cares he's freed.
But know, adversity's the child of God;
Whom heaven approves of moft must feel her rod.
When smooth old ocean and each storm's alleep,
Then ignorance may plough the watery deep;
But when the demons of the tempest rave,
Skill must conduct the vessel through the wave.
SIDNEY, what good man envies not thy blow?
Who would not with ANYTUs for a foe?
Intrepid virtue triumphs over fate,
The good can never be unfortunate.
And be this maxim graven in thy mind-
The height of virtue is to ferve mankind.

But when old age has filver'd o'er thy head, When memory fails, and all thy vigour's fled, Then may'st thou seek the stillness of retreat, Then hear aloof the human tempest beat, Then will I greet thee to my woodland cave, Allay the pangs of age, and smooth thy grave,

ADVERSITY. DAUGHTER of Jove, relentless power,

Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge, and torturing hour,

The bad affright, amidst the best !
Bound in thy adamantine chain
The proud are taught to taste of pain,
And purple tyrants vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied, and alone.
When first thy fire to send on earth

VIRTUE, his darling child, design’d,
To thee he gave the heavenly birth,

And bade to form her infant mind.
Stern rugged nurse; thy rigid lore
With patience many a year the bare :
What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know,
And from her own she learn'd to melt at others woe.
Scar'd at thy frown terrific, fly

Self-pleasing folly's idle brood,
Wild laughter, noile, and thoughtless joy,

And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer friend, the flattering foe;
By vain prosperity receiv'd,
To her they vow their truth, and are again believ'd.
WISDOM, in fable garb array'd,

Immers'd in rapturous thought profound, And MELANCHOLY, filent maid,

With leaden eye, that loves the ground, Still on thy folemn steps attend : Warm chaRITY, the general friend, With JUSTICE, to herself fevere, And Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear, Oh, gently on thy suppliant's head,

Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand ! Not in thy gorgon terrors clad,

Nor circled with the vengeful band

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