Parent of virtue, nurse of thought!
By thee were saints and patriarchs taught ;
Wisdom from thee her treasures drew,
And in thy lap fair science grew.
Whate'er exalts, refines, and charms,
Invites to thought, to virtue warms;
Whate'er is perfect, fair, and good,
We owe to thee, sweet solitude!
In these blest shades, O still maintain
Thy peaceful, unmolested reign!
Let no disorder'd thoughts intrude
On thy repose, sweet solitude!
With thee the charm of life shall last,
Although its rosy bloom be past;
Shall still endure when time shall spread
His silver blossoms o'er my head.
No more with this vain world perplex'd,
Thou shalt prepare me for the next;
The springs of life shall gently cease,
And angels point the way to peace.
Ur. Ye tender objects of maternal love,
Ye dearest joys my widow'd heart can prove,
Come, taste the glories of the new-born day,
And grateful homage to its author pay!
Oh! ever may this animating sight
Convey instruction while it sheds delight!
Does not that sun, whose cheering beams impart
Joy's glad emotions to the pure in heart;
Does not that vivid power teach ev'ry mind
To be as warm, benevolent, and kind;
To burn with unremitted ardour still,
Like him to execute their Maker's will?
Then let us, Power Supreme! thy will adore,
Invoke thy mercies, and proclaim thy power.
Shalt thou these benefits in vain bestow?
Shall we forget the Fountain whence they flow?
Teach us through these to lift our hearts to Thee,
And in the gift the bounteous Giver see.
To view thee as thou art, all good and wise,
Nor let thy blessings hide Thee from our eyes.
From all obstructions clear our mental sight;
Pour on our souls thy beatific light!
Teach us thy wondrous goodness to revere,
With love to worship, and with rev'rence fear!
In the mild works of thy benignant hand,
As in the thunder of thy dread command.
In common objects we neglect thy power,
While wonders shine in every plant and flower.
Tell me, my first, my last, my darling care,
If you this morn have rais'd your hearts in prayer?
Say, did you
rise from the sweet bed of rest,
Your God unprais'd, his holy name unblest?
Syl. Our hearts with gratitude and rev'rence fraught,
By those pure precepts you have ever taught;
By your example more than precept strong,
Of prayer and praise have tuned their matin song.
El. With ever new delight we now attend
The counsels of our fond maternal friend.
Enter FLORELLA, with EUPHELIA, CLEORA,
PASTORELLA, LAURINDA.
Flo. (aside to the ladies.) See how the goodly dame, with pious art,
Makes each event a lesson to the heart!
Observe the duteous list'ners how they stand!
Improvement and delight go hand in hand.
Ur. But where's Florella?
Here's the happy she,
Whom Heaven most favour'd when it gave her thee
Ur. But who are these, in whose attractive mien,
So sweetly blended, every grace is seen?
Speak, my Florella! say the cause why here
These beauteous damsels on our plains appear?
Flo. Invited hither by Urania's fame,
To seek her friendship, to these shades they came
Straying alone at morning's earliest dawn,
I met them wand'ring on the distant lawn.
Their courteous manners soon engaged my love:
I've brought them here your sage advice to prove.
Ur. Tell me, ye gentle nymphs, the reason tell, Which brings such guests to grace my lowly cell? My power of serving, though indeed but small, Such as it is, you may command it all.
Cle. Your counsel, your advice, is all we ask
And for Urania that's no irksome task.
'Tis happiness we seek: O deign to tell
Where the coy fugitive delights to dwell!
Ur. Ah, rather say where you have sought this guest,
This lovely inmate of the virtuous breast?
Declare the various methods you've essay'd
To court and win the bright celestial maid.
But first, though harsh the task, each beauteous fair
Her ruling passion must with truth declare.
From evil habits own'd, from faults confess'd,
Alone we trace the secrets of the breast.
Eu. Bred in the regal splendours of a court,
Where pleasures, dress'd in every shape, resort,
I tried the power of pomp and costly glare,
Nor e'er found room for thought, or time for prayer:
In diff'rent follies every hour I spent ;
I shunn'd reflection, yet I sought content.
My hours were shared betwixt the park and play,
And music serv'd to waste the tedious day;
Yet softest airs no more with joy I heard,
If any sweeter warbler was preferr'd;
The dance succeeded, and, succeeding, tired,
If some more graceful dancer were admired.
No sounds but flatt'ry ever sooth'd my ear:
Ungentle truths I knew not how to bear.
The anxious day induced the sleepless night,
And my vex'd spirit never knew delight.
Coy pleasure mock'd me with delusive charms;
Still the thin shadow fled my clasping arms:
Or if some actual joy I seem'd to taste,
Another's pleasures laid my blessings waste:
One truth I proved, that lurking envy hides
In every heart where vanity presides.
A fairer face would rob my soul of rest,
And fix a scorpion in my wounded breast.
Or, if my elegance of form prevail'd,
And haply her inferior graces fail'd;
Yet still some cause of wretchedness I found,
Some barbed shaft my shatter'd
Perhaps her gay attire exceeded mine
When she was finer, how could I be fine?
Syl. Pardon my interruption, beauteous maid! Can truth have prompted what you just have said? What! can the poor pre-eminence of dress Ease the pain'd heart, or give it happiness? Or can you
think your robes, though rich and fine, Possess intrinsic value more than mine? Ur. So close our nature is to vice allied, Our very comforts are the source of pride; And dress, so much corruption reigns within, Is both the consequence and cause of sin.
Cle. Of happiness unfound I too complain, Sought in a diff'rent path, but sought in vain! I sigh'd for fame, I languish'd for renown, I would be flatter'd, prais'd, admir'd, and known.
On daring wing my mounting spirit soar'd,
And science through her boundless fields explor'd :
I scorn'd the salique laws of pedant schools,
Which chain our genius down by tasteless rules:
I long'd to burst these female bonds, which held
My sex in awe, by vanity impell'd:
To boast each various faculty of mind,
Thy graces, Pope! with Johnson's learning join'd:
Like Swift, with strongly pointed ridicule,
To brand the villain, and abash the fool:
To judge with taste, with spirit to compose,
Now mount in epic, now descend to prose;
To join, like Burke, the beauteous and sublime,
Or build, with Milton's art," the lofty rhyme;"
Through fancy's fields I ranged; I strove to hit
Melmoth's chaste style, and Prior's easy
wit:
Thy classic graces, Mason, to display,
And court the muse of elegy with Gray:
I raved of Shakspeare's flame and Dryden's rage,
And every charm of Otway's melting page.
I talk'd by rote the jargon of the schools,
Of critic laws, and Aristotle's rules ;
Of passion, sentiment, and style, and grace,
And unities of action, time, and place.
The daily duties of my life forgot,
To study fiction, incident, and plot :
Howe'er the conduct of my life might err,
Still my dramatic plans were regular.
Ur. Who aims at every science soon will find The field how vast, how limited the mind!
Cle. Abstruser studies soon my fancy caught, The poet in th' astronomer forgot:
The schoolmen's systems now my mind employ'd
Their crystal spheres, their atoms and their void;
Newton and Halley all my soul inspir'd,
And numbers less than calculations fired;
Descartes and Euclid shar'd my varying breast,
And plans and problems all my soul possess'd.
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