Remorfe begets reform. His mafter-luft

Falls firft before his refolute rebuke,

And seems dethron'd and vanquifh'd. Peace enfues,
But spurious and fhort-liv'd; the puny child

Of felf-congratulating pride, begot

On fancied innocence. Again he falls,
And fights again; but finds his best effay
A prefage ominous, portending still
Its own dishonour by a worse relapfe.
Till Nature, unavailing Nature, foil'd
So oft, and wearied in the vain attempt,
Scoffs at her own performance. Reason now
Takes part with appetite, and pleads the cause,
Perversely, which of late fhe fo condemn'd;
With fhallow fhifts and old devices, worn
And tatter'd in the fervice of debauch,
Cov'ring his fhame from his offended fight.

"Hath God indeed giv'n appetites to man, "And ftor'd the earth so plenteously with means

L

"To gratify the hunger of his wifh;

"And doth he reprobate, and will he damn, "The use of his own bounty? making first "So frail a kind, and then enacting laws

"So ftrict, that lefs than perfect must despair?
"Falfehood! which whofo but fufpects of truth
"Difhonours God, and makes a flave of man.
"Do they themselves, who undertake for hire
"The teacher's office, and dispense at large
"Their weekly dole of edifying ftrains,
"Attend to their own mufic? have they faith
"In what with fuch folemnity of tone

"And gesture they propound to our belief?
"Nay-conduct hath the loudeft tongue. The voice
"Is but an inftrument, on which the priest

May play what tune he pleases. In the deed,

"The unequivocal authentic deed,

"We find found argument, we read the heart."

Such reas'nings (if that name must needs belong T'excufes in which reafon has no part)

Serve to compose a spirit well inclin'd

To live on terms of amity with vice,

And fin without difturbance.

(As often as libidinous discourse

Often urg'd,

Exhaufted, he reforts to folemn themes

Of theological and grave import)

They gain at last his unreferv'd affent;

Till, harden'd his heart's temper in the forge

Of luft, and on the anvil of defpair,

He flights the ftrokes of confcience. Nothing moves,

Or nothing much, his conftancy in ill;

Vain tamp'ring has but fofter'd his disease ;

'Tis defp'rate, and he sleeps the fleep of death!
Hafte now, philofopher, and fet him free.

Charm the deaf ferpent wifely. Make him hear
Of rectitude and fitness, moral truth

How lovely, and the moral sense how sure,
Confulted and obey'd, to guide his steps

Directly to the FIRST AND ONLY FAIR,

Spare not in fuch a caufe. Spend all the pow'rs

Of rant and rhapfody in virtue's praise:

Be most fublimely good, verbofely grand,
And with poetic trappings grace thy profe,
Till it out-mantle all the pride of verse.--
Ah, tinkling cymbal, and high founding brass,
Smitten in vain! fuch mufic cannot charm

Th' eclipfe that intercepts truth's heav'nly beam,
And chills and darkens a wide-wand'ring foul.
The STILL SMALL VOICE is wanted. He muft fpeak,
Whofe word leaps forth at once to its effect;
Who calls for things that are not, and they come.

Grace makes the flave a freeman. 'Tis a change That turns to ridicule the turgid fpeech And ftately tone of moralifts, who boast, As if, like him of fabulous renown, They had indeed ability to smooth The fhag of favage nature, and were each An Orpheus, and omnipotent in fong; But transformation of apoftate man

From fool to wife, from earthly to divine,

Is work for Him that made him. He alone,
And he by means in philofophic eyes
Trivial and worthy of difdain, achieves
The wonder; humanizing what is brute
In the lost kind, extracting from the lips
Of afps their venom, overpow'ring ftrength
By weakness, and hoftility by love.

Patriots have toil'd, and in their country's caufe Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve, Receive proud recompenfe. We give in charge Their names to the fweet lyre. Th' hiftoric muse, Proud of the treasure, marches with it down To latest times; and fculpture, in her turn, Gives bond in ftone and ever-during brafs To guard them, and t' immortalize her truft: But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid, To those who, posted at the shrine of truth, Have fall'n in her defence. A patriot's blood,