Scarce deigns to notice him, or if the fee
Deems him a cypher in the works of God, Receives advantage from his noiseless hours Of which she little dreams.
Her funshine and her rain, her blooming spring And plenteous harvest, to the pray'r he makes, When, Ifaac like, the folitary faint
Walks forth to meditate at even-tide,
And think on her, who thinks not for herself. Forgive him then, thou buftler in concerns Of little worth, and idler in the best, If, author of no mifchief and fome good, He feek his proper happiness by means That may advance, but cannot hinder thine. Nor though he tread the secret path of life, Engage no notice, and enjoy much ease, Account him an incumbrance on the state, Receiving benefits, and rend'ring none,
His fphere though humble, if that humble fphère Shine with his fair example, and though small His influence, if that influence all be spent In foothing forrow and in quenching strife, In aiding helpless indigence, in works From which at least a grateful few derive Some taste of comfort in a world of woc,
Then let the fupercilious great confefs
He ferves his country; recompenfes well- The state beneath the shadow of whofe vine He fits fecure, and in the fcale of life Holds no ignoble, though a flighted place. The man whofe virtues are more felt than feen, Muft drop indeed the hope of public praise; But he may boast what few that win it can, That if his country ftand not by his skill, At least his follies have not wrought her fall, Polite refinement offers him in vain.
Her golden tube, through which a fenfual world Draws grofs impurity, and likes it well,
The neat conveyance hiding all th' offence. Not that he peevishly rejects a mode Because that world adopts it. If it bear The ftamp and clear impreffion of good sense, And be not coftly more than of true worth, He puts it on, and for decorum fake Can wear it e'en as gracefully as fhe.
She judges of refinement by the eye, He by the test of confcience, and a heart Not foon deceiv'd; aware that what is bafe No polish can make fterling, and that vice, Though well perfum'd and elegantly drefs'd, Like an unburied carcafe trick'd with flow'rs, Is but a garnish'd nuifance, fitter far
For cleanly riddance than for fair attire." So life glides smoothly and by ftealth away, More golden than that age of fabled gold Renown'd in ancient song; not vex'd with care Or ftrain'd with guilt, beneficent, approv'd
Of God and man, and peaceful in its end. So glide my life away! and fo at last, My share of duties decently fulfill'd, May some disease, not tardy to perform Its deftin'd office, yet with gentle stroke, Difmifs me weary to a safe retreat
Beneath the turf that I have often trod.
It fhall not grieve me, then, that once, when call'd To drefs a Sofa with the flow'rs of verse,
I play'd awhile, obedient to the fair,
With that light task; but soon, to please her more Whom flow'rs alone I knew would little please, Let fall the unfinish'd wreath, and rov'd for fruit ; Roy'd far, and gather'd much fome harfh, 'tis true,
Pick'd from the thorns and briars of reproof, But wholesome, well-digefted; grateful fome To palates that can taste immortal truth, Infipid elfe, and fure to be defpis'd. But all is in his hand whofe praise I seek. In vain the poet fings, and the world hears,
If he regard not, though divine the theme. >Tis not in artful measures, in the chime And idle tinkling of a minstrel's lyre, To charm his ear, whofe eye is on the heart; Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain, Whofe approbation-profper even mine.
EAR JOSEPH-five and twenty years agoAlas! how time escapes-'tis even soWith frequent intercourse, and always sweet, And always friendly, we were wont to cheat A tedious hour-and now we never meet. As fome grave gentleman in Terence says, ('Twas therefore much the fame in ancient days) Good lack, we know not what to-morrow bringsStrange fluctuation of all human things! True. Changes will befall, and friends may part, But distance only cannot change the heart : And, were I call'd to prove th' affertion true, One proof should serve—a reference to you.
Whence comes it then, that in the wane of life, Though nothing have occurr'd to kindle ftrife,
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